[ Her hum seethes through Hei, below his rational intellect. He can tell by her slow breathing, by her flickering eyelids, that her dreams are too heavy for his touch to drag her past the surface of sleep. He draws back, his nose just brushing hers, his hair stirring the sides of her face. Maybe it's his imagination, but Korra's features contain the shadow of what she's endured; a little grey under the eyes, the line of the cheekbone and brow starker than they usually are. Hei resists the urge to touch his mouth to each place. He wants to let her rest. But he's already leaning in again, kissing her a touch harder -- hungrier -- mouthing softly at the corner of her lips, then parting them so his tongue finds secret places inside her mouth. ]
[ Lifting the sheet up to see more of her releases a waft of her lovely warm scent. With careful hands, he rolls her onto her back. Kisses her again. Slow and soft, at first, then in little bites, worrying her lower-lip between his teeth. Gingerly, he strokes the line of her hip, not as sharp and statuesque as Amber's, but that doesn't matter. What looks striking on one woman can look worryingly gaunt on another. He strokes her skin through the fabric of her shirt -- innocuous places; waist, ribs, belly, flank. Lets the heat of her skin bleed into him, as something slithers loose at the back of his mind. ]
[ The smart thing is to let Korra sleep. Or wake her up. But Korra, face in childlike repose and clothes creased, suddenly seems terribly -- terribly beautiful. He doesn't want to wake her. But he can't stop touching her either. ]
[ His hands slip beneath her, under her shirt, splayed out over the warm smoothness of her back. Settling his weight against her, he kisses her again -- breathless and burning and greedy all at once. ]
no subject
[ Lifting the sheet up to see more of her releases a waft of her lovely warm scent. With careful hands, he rolls her onto her back. Kisses her again. Slow and soft, at first, then in little bites, worrying her lower-lip between his teeth. Gingerly, he strokes the line of her hip, not as sharp and statuesque as Amber's, but that doesn't matter. What looks striking on one woman can look worryingly gaunt on another. He strokes her skin through the fabric of her shirt -- innocuous places; waist, ribs, belly, flank. Lets the heat of her skin bleed into him, as something slithers loose at the back of his mind. ]
[ The smart thing is to let Korra sleep. Or wake her up. But Korra, face in childlike repose and clothes creased, suddenly seems terribly -- terribly beautiful. He doesn't want to wake her. But he can't stop touching her either. ]
[ His hands slip beneath her, under her shirt, splayed out over the warm smoothness of her back. Settling his weight against her, he kisses her again -- breathless and burning and greedy all at once. ]