[ Hei doesn't usually ask twice. He doesn't usually ask. ]
[ She says, Not yet. And the frustration of it overwhelms him in the most visceral way. But instead of pinning her beneath him to take what he wants, he gorges on her mouth. Kisses. So many of them. Slow, sweet, almost trembling at first, as if he's uncertain and caught between intensity and sweetness, all of it coming through in the way in way he nuzzles at her lower lip. Somewhere, within the burning, clumsy eagerness, this closeness has become infectious. It feels almost easy. It can't be late yet, Hei thinks, but he doesn't know what time it could be; it feels like an unreal late evening hour, blue and black and full of shapes and sounds but nothing intelligible to anyone except him and Korra, and even then, only sometimes. It can't be later than eight. ]
[ Hilarious, to imagine how his usual, meticulous self might categorize this, strange to think that this was what Hei usually prefers to shelve away in terse, cold phrases of rational terminology -- but instead of thinking about that, he stretches against her like a greedy cat. Pulls away from Korra's mouth and then drags her hand away from his erection, to kiss breathlessly at her palm, to scrape his teeth at the heel of her hand like he's trying to gnaw his way into her. A silent signal that her attention has become too much. Meanwhile, his own fingers, pressed between Korra's thighs, become insistent and fluid, fucking into her, telling her how much wants her. ]
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[ She says, Not yet. And the frustration of it overwhelms him in the most visceral way. But instead of pinning her beneath him to take what he wants, he gorges on her mouth. Kisses. So many of them. Slow, sweet, almost trembling at first, as if he's uncertain and caught between intensity and sweetness, all of it coming through in the way in way he nuzzles at her lower lip. Somewhere, within the burning, clumsy eagerness, this closeness has become infectious. It feels almost easy. It can't be late yet, Hei thinks, but he doesn't know what time it could be; it feels like an unreal late evening hour, blue and black and full of shapes and sounds but nothing intelligible to anyone except him and Korra, and even then, only sometimes. It can't be later than eight. ]
[ Hilarious, to imagine how his usual, meticulous self might categorize this, strange to think that this was what Hei usually prefers to shelve away in terse, cold phrases of rational terminology -- but instead of thinking about that, he stretches against her like a greedy cat. Pulls away from Korra's mouth and then drags her hand away from his erection, to kiss breathlessly at her palm, to scrape his teeth at the heel of her hand like he's trying to gnaw his way into her. A silent signal that her attention has become too much. Meanwhile, his own fingers, pressed between Korra's thighs, become insistent and fluid, fucking into her, telling her how much wants her. ]