[ Hei's from a world where the circumference of privacy shrinks every day. If Big Brother isn't watching you, the Syndicate most assuredly is. Between the two, a string of spycams, bugs, wires and Doll networks practically ensures that third parties know your routine down to the brand of tea you drink and the color of your underwear. Anyway, the soldiers' barracks in Heaven's War, cramped and in-your-face, left him with a different concept of the word private. ]
[ (That said, it's no secret, not to the people that know Hei, that he prefers his business -- and recreation -- to stay out-of-radar.) ]
[ There's a low purl, pitched deep and greedy, as she wraps a hand around him. He keeps the kiss going for a long moment, sparking and teasing with tongue and teeth -- before he breaks away on a light inhale. Slowly, he unfolds himself to his feet. Draws a thin leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, before sloughing the denim off his hips in a quick two-step. He folds them at the edge of the coffee table, beside the wallet (snapped open to retrieve the essential foil square). But instead of urging her to maneuver so she's on her back, instead of climbing up over her, he settles on the couch. Draws her to perch on his lap, face to face, her knees splayed on either side of him, his erection pressed tight and hard against the seam of her body. ]
[ He's a little sweaty, a little sloe-eyed, and his hair's sticking up in wild angles -- but his smile is a wry one. Indulgent. He'd conceded earlier, You have the floor. That mood is lenient enough to extend here. Here's your chance to finally run things, Korra. ]
⊕ action
[ (That said, it's no secret, not to the people that know Hei, that he prefers his business -- and recreation -- to stay out-of-radar.) ]
[ There's a low purl, pitched deep and greedy, as she wraps a hand around him. He keeps the kiss going for a long moment, sparking and teasing with tongue and teeth -- before he breaks away on a light inhale. Slowly, he unfolds himself to his feet. Draws a thin leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, before sloughing the denim off his hips in a quick two-step. He folds them at the edge of the coffee table, beside the wallet (snapped open to retrieve the essential foil square). But instead of urging her to maneuver so she's on her back, instead of climbing up over her, he settles on the couch. Draws her to perch on his lap, face to face, her knees splayed on either side of him, his erection pressed tight and hard against the seam of her body. ]
[ He's a little sweaty, a little sloe-eyed, and his hair's sticking up in wild angles -- but his smile is a wry one. Indulgent. He'd conceded earlier, You have the floor. That mood is lenient enough to extend here. Here's your chance to finally run things, Korra. ]