mortemscintilla | IC Contact

Hey! [She takes the towel off her head and thwacks him with it (all in good fun, of course).] No. I am not a pet. [JERK.]

I just don't get the point of having a pet you don't like.

[ Hei ducks, so the wet whippish end of the towel slaps the couch instead. Snatching it out of her hands, he balls it up almost thoughtfully, before saying, ] There's a lot of things you have to do. Even if you don't like them. [ An essentiality of growing up, as anyone less self-aware than Hei would be quick to point out. Except even his childhood, such as it was, revolved around a stream of Do Not Wants and Must Be Dones, like he was a small piece of flotsam in an ocean too vast and dark to control. ]

[Well DUH. She rolls her eyes at him, hard. She's no stranger to doing crap you don't like to do. See: meditation. See: working at the bar and then the Welcome Center. ]

Yeah. But taking care of a pet you don't even like isn't something you have to do. Wouldn't it be just as easy to get a pet you actually like?

[ Hei conceals his amusement as Korra's little face settles into what she probably can't tell is a pout. Reaching out with one hand, he lets his fingers skate the shell of her ear, before tucking a stray strand of hair away. He's done this before, for other people -- always targets or soon-to-be-targets. Never honest, never warm, but there's a quality particular to this moment that makes it both. The room is dark, all flickering shadows and lights from the muted TV, but his smile is all-too-apparent. ]

I don't like animals. [ Cats. Dogs. Birds. Fish. The whole shebang. ] I only picked the lizard because it was the most convenient.

[She's still making that face, though she's not upset. She likes that little gesture -- simple and sweet even though he's anything but.]

Guess that explains why you never come to the Beach House. [They practically run their own zoo there. Dogs, cats, sheep...]

[ Gradually, Hei feels that wire-tense weight in his chest loosening. Something about the dimly-lit apartment, the bright-eyed girl, the quiet ambience, all conspire to make him feel almost-easy. He traces the underside of Korra's jaw with the rough edge of his finger, tipping her chin to regard her. She's not wan and bleary like in the hospital; her cheeks are round and glossy again, and she smells faintly of a sugary drink. ]

[ For the moment his default security awareness is eclipsed by a physical tug of want. (On the one hand -- it's liberating, even life-affirming, to know his ennui hasn't sunk its claws in that deep. To know he's capable of semi-spontaneous contact. On the other hand, it's worrisome.) Firmly, he brushes it off. Leaning in, the slow creaking of the couch presaging the movement, he kisses her again, buttery-soft. Murmurs, lips playing with hers, ] I don't like crowds either. [ Another kiss -- sharp as a bite. ] Or heartsick ex-boyfriends. [ It's an offhand jibe, not meant to be cruel. The gooey puddle of Korra's love-life is of no interest to him. Even so, it's smarter to keep his distance, lest the backwash splatter him. ]

[Ugh did you have to mention Mako?!?! The entire situation sucks. Korra feels bad for him, knowing how confusing it is for him to arrive here and she's a totally different person with a totally different life. At the same time, his resentment is off-putting. The two of them have always had a rocky relationship, but there's no longer the buffer of unrequited love to soften it for her.]

Don't even talk about him. [One of these days she'll figure out how to make things right between her and Mako again, but right now she just wants to pretend that particular problem doesn't exist for awhile.

She grips the front of his shirt and tugs him closer. Kisses -- definitely something she's missed.]

[ Maybe he was talking about Bolin? (Spoilers: he wasn't.) ]

[ She cringes. And part of Hei waits to suffocate as a green-eyed monster wraps its scaly tail around him and squeezes. But of course, that doesn't happen. Jealousy, insecurity, possessiveness -- he'd be insane to say he's immune to them. But in truth, he's long since been schooled to view them as liabilities, and learnt not to experience them after years of self-denial. Mako is a non-issue. His presence doesn't register as a threat. And fond as Hei is of Korra, she isn't Amber. Firework fights, ever-cropping mindgames -- that was the kind of coercive drama he and Amber lobbed back and forth, jealousy waxing and waning, keeping their passion engaged across the battlefield. But he knows that isn't going to brighten Korra's love-light any. Nor is it something Hei cares to get entangled in. Order and peace of mind aren't preoccupations of men his age. But he craves them the way his peers crave sluts, drugs and sportscars. ]

[ Order and peace of mind? the Iceman sneers. Like you'll ever have that with her. You should just kill the bitch and get on with it. Maybe some other girl would come along, who'd take Amber's place in his heart and his bed and his life. A girl who wasn't such a surreal Pai-echo. ]

[ Hei shuts his eyes. Kill the bitch, yeah. Same one who, having told him not to talk about Mako, is now yanking him in, all soft and curvy and deliciously warm, kissing him as if she's read his mind. Humming, he circles her closer. Sinking away from his destructive ideas, sinking into the kiss. Her mouth is so receptive now, her lips so responsive. He doesn't delude himself that it's pure passion; it's also the instinctive seeking of sanctuary. Greedily, he flicks his tongue along Korra's teeth in between teasing bites to her lower lip. Strokes his knuckles down her spine, before tracing his fingertips up under the hem of her shirt. ]

[ He's in no mood for slowness or tenderness. But tonight, more than ever, it's necessary. The touch of fingers on bare skin isn't a demand for more. It's a question. Yes? No? ]

[Bolin is a boy and a friend, but he's never been a boyfriend. And jealousy would be a particularly silly reaction considering you're the one she's kissing.

She twists on the couch to get a better angle and presses closer against him. Her hands drift down to grip his waist (no hips to speak of, and for a moment she misses that). The light touch of his knuckles on her spine makes her hum quietly. The answer to his unspoken question is very much Yes.

Of course, it's not as easy as it used to be, and she doesn't have the luxury of heated kisses right up to the moment she pulls the shirt over her head. With one last kiss, she pulls back, giving herself room for the quick but still arduous process of taking off her shirt: sliding out first her good arm, then her head, then her bad arm, hissing as her shoulder flares with pain. (Her bra at least will be easier...no straps and front-clasp. Not as supportive as she'd like, but easier to put on.)]

[ Three infallible truths Hei's learnt in his career:

1) Nothing is what it seems.
2) Sex and emotions seldom (if ever) go hand-in-hand.
3) Bodies can deceive with the same calculated ease as words. ]

[ Ironically, none of the rules apply to Korra. She isn't a liar or a killer. She has always, every time he's seen her, been nothing and nobody but herself. Painfully, messily, blatantly so. This her, this person she shows him more of, morsel by morsel, is the truth. There is no measured facade concealing her from his eyes. ]

[ When she breaks the kiss, he rocks back on a slow inhale, watching her make short work of the shirt. His whole body thrums at her proximity -- all hard edges of hunger and self-interest. Yet -- hearing her hiss -- he's filled with a sudden tenderness that catches his throat. In the black room, a steady glow pouring from the TV, he just takes her in for a moment -- a study of light and dark contrasts. Gauges her face for any brick walls of disconnect: pain, hesitation, even fear. Spanning his arms around her, he gathers her in almost-carefully, his palms exploring the soft bare expanse of her back. Bends his head and kisses the shadowy dip between her breasts, laving his tongue along the warm skin. Gives each of her nipples a wet biting kiss through the thin fabric -- before undoing the front clasp with both hands. ]

[ He's not as aggressive as their prior encounters. If anything, he stops just short of pushy. It's true that Hei prefers roughness. He enjoys the crash-and-burn and the rapid unraveling to the slow hypnotic bullshit. But that doesn't mean he wants Korra to be uncomfortable. ]

[Yeah, okay, the pain did take her out of it a little bit. It lingers and throbs, trying to draw her attention to it and only it. Her leg decides to get in on the action too, and her torso complains at how she has to twist herself in order to keep her thigh happy.]

This isn't gonna work. [groaning as her nipples ache in protest. Seriously it's been a month WHY DO BODIES TAKE SO LONG TO HEAL?!]

[ Korra's bra is already forgotten on the cushion next to them when she speaks. Hei pauses, brow knitted. But he doesn't seem frustrated or irritated -- just thoughtful. There's a roar of blood in his ears, like an engine revved up and ready to go, fueled by hot impatience but -- He puts his foot down on that right away. Leave it. He doesn't draw away from Korra. Instead he lets his hands resettle on her hips, callused fingers on smooth skin, neither a demand nor a seduction. Just a tactile reassurance. ]

We can stop. [ Neither sulky nor indifferent. It's clear he wants this, but also clear he's not going to push. With one hand, he smoothes the hair from her face, searching it for a moment before leaning in to press a kiss -- light, if not chaste. ]

[She leans into him, trying to use his lips to drown out everything else. It doesn't work. She moans softly, half-desire, half-frustration.]

Maybe we can move this somewhere else?

[ Hei kisses her again, harder. This time, when he draws back, lips shiny in the semi-dark, he trails his way down Korra's throat, bites at the ticcing pulsepoint there before mouthing at the dent of her collarbones. He won't ignore her semi-nudity, the press of her breasts against his chest or the heat seeping through his thin cotton shirt. But he doesn't grope her or devour her with his eyes, either. Instead, very slowly and thoroughly, he looks her over. Taking stock of fresh scars or unexpected changes. Measuring his own levels of roughness or gentleness accordingly. One hand rubs idle circles against the jut of her hipbone with his thumb. The other pulls at the corner of Korra’s mouth, thumb a slow drag on the edge of her teeth. ]

My room, then.

[ Hopefully she'll be more comfortable buffered by a heap of pillows. Behind them, the room shifts to red as one movie ends and another rolls in. Hei is too preoccupied to notice two naked bodies engaged in an obviously carnal act, making what look like ridiculous faces. Otherwise he'd have the presence of mind to change the channel. ]

[ Why yes. He did unlock the pornography block last weekend. ]

[She smiles against his lips and wriggles her toes happily (the girlish gesture fortunately hidden by her boots).]

Okay. [She shifts to move before he can pick her up, and catches sight of the tv screen for the first time all night. She coughs laughing.]

This is what you watch when you're alone?

Hm?

[ Hei shifts his attention to the TV screen. When he sees what it's broadcasting, his face cycles through a number of subtle expressions -- confusion, annoyance, disdain, mischief -- before settling on a bastard child between amusement and mild boredom. ] Not as good as your 'live performance,' true. [ It's a tease, not a condescension. As far as porn goes, the movie's pretty tame: soft lighting, muted decor, and the woman is actually smiling as she and the man roll like playful puppies across the mattress. ]

[ Reaching past Korra's head, he fumbles to find the remote. Unless she's interested in a session of porn-watching, he's ready to switch the TV off and haul her off to the bedroom. ]

[Korra peers around him, watching the screen curiously. She's not a tv/movie person, but this has a peculiar novelty to it. She's never actually seen sex, except as a participant.]\

She never realized how ridiculous it looks.]

Do I look that stupid when we do it?

[ Remote in-hand, Hei pauses at her question. The room's still dark, but when his finger trips across the volume button, the unrealistic pants and moans are audible in the background. His brow spasms in irritation and he lowers it a couple bars. To Korra: ] Of course not. [ The woman onscreen looks nothing like Korra, for one. She's shorn of all body-hair from head-to-toe. For another, she's working the too-skinny-too-blond thing too much for Hei's preference. And her breasts are so large and firm nature may not have had anything to do with it. ]

[ He snorts as, in one shot, the man holds her, clinch-style, and fucks her aggressively from behind, while she looks up into his face with an expression of such absorbed delight that it's obvious the whole thing is a total sham. ]

[ Glancing at Korra, Hei adds, for the sake of explanation, ] This -- like most things on TV -- isn't completely realistic.

Good. [Because seriously. That looks both stupid and.....deeply uncomfortable. Especially when the guy pulls out and sprays come all over her face.

EWWWW.

She glances over at him, uncertain.]

Do you... like this stuff?

[ This right here is the reason why men don't watch porn with their girlfriends. Not-girlfriends. Whatever. ]

[ Hei doesn't tense, but there's a distinct uncertainty in the glance he flicks at her, like he's trying to decode her tone, to decide if it's a loaded question or genuine curiosity. Eventually he shrugs one shoulder, eyes resettling on the screen just in time for the grand finale, the come shot. (With an uncomfortable twinge, he's sucked back into South America, to the 'camp followers' who were desperate or foolish enough to loiter near the soldiers' barracks. There's a visceral reflux: the acrid smell of smoke and sweat, the blurred scenery, a disheveled young woman on her knees in front of him. He hears the male voices around him chanting: Skeet motherfucker, skeet while the dull-eyed girl under him becomes a coughing protein-glazed face -- anonymous, debauched, disposable.) ]

[ With an effort, Hei shakes the memory off. Swallowing, he selects, from a jumble of contending replies in his head, the perfect sentence that'll make it clear he wouldn't want Korra to feel pressured into doing anything she's not comfortable with. ]

Sometimes. [ Yes, as a matter of fact. A stiff prick has no conscience -- isn't that the self-serving rationalization? Similarly it has little discernment for artistry and good acting vs. tackiness and free tits. Anyway, what he likes is a far cry from the vanilla bullshit that's onscreen right now. ]

[She can't help making a little disgusted face, remembering the way his come had stuck to her face and hair the first time she'd blown him. It was gross.

She leans over and takes the remote from him. She only fumbles for a moment before managing to turn off the tv, and then gives him a smile.]

What else do you like?

[Genuine curiosity. They've talked a little before about different things people do, but she doesn't know much about what he likes other than what they've done. She's not even certain what she likes outside of what they've done.]

[ Hei isn't sure if it's her expression, the question, or just her -- but for a full five seconds he's struck motionless as every blood cell in his body rushes to one central location. ]

[ With the TV off, there's only the dim glow of the corner lamp to illuminate the room. In the ambience, Korra's eyes gleam, like her hair-pieces. Honestly, he finds it surreal that she can hang around filth like him, live a life as difficult and disjointed as in the City -- yet still retain such a wholesome innocence. She'd be a non-entity in Hei's profession: there's no such thing as a girl who can succumb to a muck of odure and rise up lily-fresh, her eyes bright as a puppy's, her smile like white absolution. ]

[ Are you for real? he wants to ask, not in wonder but disbelief. Wisely, he keeps that to himself. Instead, he passes an arm around her. Touches her breast, curling his hand around it. Her nipple feels warm and springy, standing up against his palm. He rubs it with a thumb, murmuring, ] Nothing you'd be up for. Not in this condition, anyway. [ Spoken with the hint of a smile but beneath it a hum of a warning, despite the good humour in his voice. ]

[She's not sure what to make of that, the mix of warning and humor. Is it a threat? A "let's talk about this later"?]

You really don't like sharing anything, do you? [She frowns at him, a little irritated. Sex is like fighting -- it's hard to learn & get better if you can't ask questions or get feedback. She'd thought it was pretty clear that he's the only teacher she has (or is currently interested in having).

Better distract her quick.]

[ Sex isn't exactly like fighting in Hei's estimation. But it is like a sport. Like Ericsson's Ten Thousand Hour Rule. A rule that states to become the elite in any field, you don't repeat what you know, but you engage in deliberate practice, you constantly test yourself, push your limits. The same goes for sex. Except you don't get good at fucking by fucking the same person all the time. A team becomes good by playing against many teams. A player gets good by challenging other players. ]

[ Except Hei has never believed there's any such thing as a Good Lover. There's only good couples and good moments -- an indefinable mix of chemicals, timing and mutual preferences that align satisfactorily together. ]

[ When she scowls, Hei exhales an exasperated huff of air. Drawing back a little to regard her, he asks, ] Why so curious? You think I'm bored with you? Or is there something new you want me to try?

[ Operation: Distract Korra? Epic fail. ]

[Her scowl deepens. No, she doesn't think he's bored with her...or she hadn't, except now that he's brought it up, she can't help remembering that she did tell him he could sleep with other people, and he seemed awfully content to not do anything with her for a month. Which, fine, whatever, she was too busy for it anyway. But now she can't help imagining all the different women he must've done stuff with instead (You're not my usual type he'd told her) and what they must be able to do.

It bothers her, but she doesn't know how to say that because it's not really about him. She's not really afraid there's someone else he likes having sex with more (or, to be more honest, only a little afraid). It's more than these women (in her mind) remind her how new she is at this, how little she knows, and how far she is from being the best. She hates not being the best.]

I don't know, because you don't talk.

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