[ His face buried in her neck, Hei doesn't answer her right away. Reality resurfaces bit by bit. He feels like he's resurfaced from drowning; drenched and gasping. He doesn't trust his body during these moments -- the easy languor that's otherwise impossible, the brief peek into a psyche that's usually rigged in steel bars. But he's learnt long ago to recover fast. ]
[ With a small sound, he rolls off her. Scoots to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, disposing of the condom in the wastebin. Slumping back into the pillows, he catches sight of the red numbers floating near him, the clock on the nightstand. It's not as late as it feels -- he's only been with Korra a couple of hours. But it already seems like a lifetime ago. His reply, when it comes, is terse, ]
Why? Because I went off like a poptart?
[ Immediately he works to soften his tone. This is the always-dreaded moment, when his mind defaults to its usual security setting -- an attempt to detach from unexpected vulnerability. For a second he pictures the way she'd held him, kissed him. It already feels secondhand. An unpleasant mix of resentment and longing bubbles in him, melded to a heavy dose of regret. And in a flash of insight, he realizes what he'd been unable to articulate all this time. The unease. It's this. ]
[ The Moment After -- when he comes face to face with knowing it will end badly, if not now then soon. ]
[ Stop it. It's not the time to jump to the next step in a chessgame, to strategize and analyse. He wants to be good to her for the time being she's here. Reassure her, after everything she's been through. And reassurance requires patience. Exhaling, he slides closer to her. Not cuddling, but draping a gentle hand across her shoulder, the arch of her foot against his ankle. A warm anchor. ]
Everything's fine. [ The expression on his face is strange, like an apology. His thumb makes a soft circling on her shoulder. ] You?
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ With a small sound, he rolls off her. Scoots to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, disposing of the condom in the wastebin. Slumping back into the pillows, he catches sight of the red numbers floating near him, the clock on the nightstand. It's not as late as it feels -- he's only been with Korra a couple of hours. But it already seems like a lifetime ago. His reply, when it comes, is terse, ]
Why? Because I went off like a poptart?
[ Immediately he works to soften his tone. This is the always-dreaded moment, when his mind defaults to its usual security setting -- an attempt to detach from unexpected vulnerability. For a second he pictures the way she'd held him, kissed him. It already feels secondhand. An unpleasant mix of resentment and longing bubbles in him, melded to a heavy dose of regret. And in a flash of insight, he realizes what he'd been unable to articulate all this time. The unease. It's this. ]
[ The Moment After -- when he comes face to face with knowing it will end badly, if not now then soon. ]
[ Stop it. It's not the time to jump to the next step in a chessgame, to strategize and analyse. He wants to be good to her for the time being she's here. Reassure her, after everything she's been through. And reassurance requires patience. Exhaling, he slides closer to her. Not cuddling, but draping a gentle hand across her shoulder, the arch of her foot against his ankle. A warm anchor. ]
Everything's fine. [ The expression on his face is strange, like an apology. His thumb makes a soft circling on her shoulder. ] You?