[ He begins to move harder, still not rough, but with deep, calculated thrusts. Each downstroke sends a shock through him, like a stray electric spark, like the shudder of a slow-encroaching crest. He hums in satisfaction, burying himself in deeper. The way he's angled over Korra, her body bent double and legs wrapped like tense bows around his arms, it's easy to grind his hips against her mons, adding pressure on her clit in tandem with Korra's stroking fingers. A pulse of impatience spreads over his pelvis and up his spine. Yet his ministrations remain languid, his head tipping to press his mouth to Korra's face, making a slow circuit of her hairline, brow, eyes and cheeks and nose, and finally the lips, going deeper and deeper, in time with his every stroke. ]
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[ Until she's done, he's not planning to stop. ]