[ A seething sound escapes Hei as he sinks in deep, with a side-to-side wriggle that sends his nerves skirling. He gathers her in tight. Gathers his restraint by combing his fingers through her hair. His breath is hot against her face, and his mouth on her skin, here, here, here, is a warm wet flower. He's so fucking hungry for her, a hunger that blooms from every point of contact, like that thing the French say, about appetite coming from the eating. Nothing seems to take the edge off of it. He wants to touch and kiss her everywhere, but impatience is stronger -- he wants something more savory than the fast frantic ways he's had her before. He can still count the number of times he's fucked Korra like a human being on the fingers of one hand. ]
[ Somewhere, in that subterranean cave where things brush against the earth and liquid seeps through the layers of rock and skin, his mind screams to move. But he doesn't; just feels each of Korra's flutters echo back to him through her body. And still he doesn't fuck; he doesn't thrust. ]
[ Instead, he whispers, ]
Squeeze me.
[ It would sound hideously romantic -- Hold me or Hug me. But that's not what he means, and his rasping tone makes that clear. He wants her to clamp down around him with her inner muscles. To see if she can bring him off, bring herself off, with just a minimum of movement. ]
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[ Somewhere, in that subterranean cave where things brush against the earth and liquid seeps through the layers of rock and skin, his mind screams to move. But he doesn't; just feels each of Korra's flutters echo back to him through her body. And still he doesn't fuck; he doesn't thrust. ]
[ Instead, he whispers, ]
Squeeze me.
[ It would sound hideously romantic -- Hold me or Hug me. But that's not what he means, and his rasping tone makes that clear. He wants her to clamp down around him with her inner muscles. To see if she can bring him off, bring herself off, with just a minimum of movement. ]