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[ 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.

[ Great. Now she's sulking like a schoolgirl. Drawing away on a slow exhale, Hei lifts a hand and rubs his eyes. ] Korra. [ The pitch lies parallel with Quit being that way. He can chart the fissures of insecurity spreading across her face, as accurately as under a microscope. Having to appease her both irritates and wearies him. He'd told her right up-front that monogamy wasn't his purview. But while their month of separation wasn't the debauched bacchanalia she's imagining -- (sex has never been, and never will be, his top priority) -- he didn't spend those weeks with just Mrs. Palm and her Five Daughters for company, either. ]

[ Still (in his opinion) it's not an issue. Is Korra truly so clueless she doesn't realize he's with her because he cares about her? It isn't only a sex thing. Sex is part of it -- fine, a huge part. But it's her. He'd love to take a scalpel and dissect his emotions, try to understand what about her draws him in beyond the reminders of Pai, but there's no one thing he's fixated on. It's just the things that add up to her being her. ]

[ Smoothing his hand through his hair, Hei tries to summon a proper response. ] Listen. [ Tired-eyed but determined. It's not reserved exclusively for Korra, that kind of look, but the level of honesty in it is. ] I won't say you're the best I'll ever have. But that's because the concept of 'best' evolves, depending on what's happening in my life. [ Gentler, ] I enjoy being with you. I enjoy you, and what we do. I don't want you feeling like you have to do something uncomfortable, or change who you are, just to make me happy.

[She looks down to hide a little blush. She does feel better hearing that, although of course he's completely missing the real issue.

How's he supposed to know if you don't tell him? Hard to remember sometimes that, his uncanny insight notwithstanding, he's not a mindreader.]

It's not about making you happy. [Wait, shit, that came out wrong.] I mean, yeah, I want you to be happy, but I also just want to get better, for me. [She huffs with irritation, feeling clear as mud and not entirely certain how to fix that.]

I don't have tvs where I'm from. [She gestures at the set.] I've never seen people have sex, and I don't have anyone I could talk to about it. [The White Lotus being convinced that sex would distract her from her Avatar studies.] Pretty much the only things I know about it are what I've done with you. I don't know what'd make me uncomfortable, or what I wouldn't like, or what I'd like other than that. And I want to.

[ Early on, Hei's learnt one lesson: Talking about sex is just as easy as having it. What they're discussing isn't -- exactly the same thing, which is perhaps why he runs a tongue over his teeth, a flicker of something shading his eyes. Disquiet, maybe. He's already pieced together the whole story of Korra's upbringing, and the damper it might've put on her sexuality. It's not a hard blank to fill, really, but it's one Hei treads carefully around because ... ]

[ Fuck. She's so young. And while Hei's resume reads like a bloodier remake of Cruel Intentions, in his off-hours, he's never cared for the persona of 'The Corruptor.' If anything, his habit of distancing himself around Korra, the way he constantly holds back -- It's obvious he's wary of innocence. Obvious he doesn't want it. A hundred nice boys in the City. And she wound up with me. It's too disconcerting to be ironic. ]

[ Picking at his words with a strange care, he says, ] I don't know everything about sex, either. I doubt anybody does. People like it a certain way, so they do it a certain way. But it's different for everybody. [ Reaching out, he skims his knuckles along her blushing face. ] You don't have to get 'better.' You already have a knack for the basics. The rest is tricks and polish. You'll pick those up as you go. [ With other men, or women. Your first lover is seldom your be-all and end-all. ]

[Stupid freaking pathologically secretive -- that's what she's trying to do! Is she supposed to learn everything by trial and error?]

Not with your help I won't.

[Talk about a turnoff.]

[ Hei feels an ugly coil of impatience in his stomach. Ordinarily, he'd tell her to shut up, and that'd be the end of it. Instead he tries to will some of the tension away. Tries to remind himself that if she really wants to try something new, it doesn't ultimately have to spell terror and tears. Maybe it can be an exercise for the both of them -- of variety, of trust. ]

[ Maybe. But he doubts it. Hei knows how bodies work. But more importantly: he's learnt to intuit what people need, rather than what they want. Korra doesn't need the sorts of things he does -- control, acquisition, a framework of rules for the singular purpose of restraint and release. She likes pushing. She likes roughness. But that's not the same thing. ]

[ There's a pause, before his eyes lift to hers. Allowing her to see -- if she has the intelligence to look -- the tar-pit of nothingness in his. ] What're you fishing for? [ Not warm or cool. He doesn't want to shock her into seriousness. It's just a reminder that some kinks may never align. ] You want to be tied up? Choked and hit? Called filthy names? Maybe you'd like me to lay marks on you. I'd do it where it wouldn't show. Blades. Sparks. Fire. Singletails. Like drawing on your skin.

[ He waits until the implications of the words settle in. Then, quieter, ] Trust is a luxury. But you'd need a lot of faith in me, for all that. I don't think it's time yet. But feel free to correct me. [ He doubts she will. ]

[Korra's skin pebbles as she's hit with a cold wave of fear, and her hand reaches out instinctively to grab her shirt. She'd feel safer covered up, but the few moments it would take to slip it on would leave her too vulnerable. She's already painfully aware how little hope she'd have of fighting back in her current condition.

He's not going to hurt you. Easy to think, harder to believe. It's not the list of kinks that bothers her (although she is definitively not interested in any of them), but the nothingness in his eyes. It calls up too many ugly memories. The shed. The dance. The Bad Night.

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't know what to say, or how to react. You overplayed your hand, Hei.]

[ It's not about overplaying his hand. Or about shutting her out of a world where she supposedly doesn't belong -- through sensationalism or intimidation. But there is a tangible gulf between him and Korra. It's not one that needs to be bridged, no matter what anyone says. When she prods him like this, when she looks at him with such guileless curiosity -- ignorance -- in her eyes, she reminds him of a child nettling a snake. I, her whole manner seems to scream, dare you. ]

[ She doesn't know better. ]

[ The silence in the room is a sudden pressure -- dark and smothering. But Hei senses it's not from his words but that aura about him. It's not a Jekyll-to-Hyde switch. More that he's let a shard of the Iceman slither in beside him and share his skin. (But it's cruel, isn't it, that he should unsettle her like this?) By degrees, he lets his expression soften. Lets that faux-warmth creep back into his eyes. Another mask, another illusion. But everyone clings to some scrap of them. ]

[ He can't banish her fear. But he can, at least, offer her a palliative. ] I won't do anything you wouldn't agree to, Korra. [ Not referring to the games he's laid out. ]

[Korra relaxes just enough to cover her chest with her shirt. She misses that giddy happiness she felt earlier, the warm tingle of desire. Now she just feels cold.]

Yeah. [They're just words, and she knows how well he lies.]

[ Just words, yes. And what've they ever meant in BK201's mouth? Nothing more than spit to lubricate compliance. Her fear isn't gone, he knows. It hovers in the atmosphere, in her bloodstream, ready to coalesce again if something triggers it. But when she clutches her shirt to her chest -- a chill, or self-protectiveness, he won't try and guess which -- Hei can't repress that earlier pang. Like tenderness, but somehow darker, more misshapen. ]

[ Leaning in, he folds her -- very carefully, giving her an exit up till the last moment -- into his arms. In the twilit room his expression isn't easy to discern. But there's something almost rueful in the way he kisses her, his lips cool and dry against her own. Very low and tired, he murmurs, ]

Don't ask questions you won't like the answers to, Korra. You don't know what it's like being me. You might think you do, but you don't. There's a lot about me that's just no good, really. I try to keep that away from you, but -- [ Breaking on a huff -- half wry, half self-disgusted, he rests his chin on her hair. ] It doesn't matter at this point. [ In a different tone, ] You want to put your shirt back on?

[She doesn't respond to the press of his lips against hers, but she lets him wrap his arms around her. Their warmth is more comforting than his words. She buries her head in the crook of his neck.]

You are deeply messed up. [murmured against his skin, quiet and tired. She doesn't move to put her shirt back on, though she's not exactly feeling sexy. Her shoulder hurts and she wants to be held.]

[ There's a blunt accuracy in her words that Hei doesn't bother to refute. But inside he can't help wonder what's wrong with her. How can she acknowledge this yet stand to be around him? She's free from the crippling weight of past baggage; he's trapped under it. She's open-hearted; he's full of secrets. Every breath is about schemes and plots, nothing interests him beyond self-benefit, every word he speaks has to be looked over twice before it leaves his mouth. There's nothing true about him. ]

[ Even this embrace is false. He chooses to offer it largely to make himself feel better. ]

[ That's enough, an inner voice warns. You are what you are. What you can't feel ... It's lost, it's gone, and that's all there is to it. Quietly, he focuses on the in-out of Korra's breathing. Rubs coaxing circles across her back, her hair tickling under his chin. He broke up the mood -- maybe they both did? -- and that's a pity. But Korra's emotional signature -- transmitted in near-ultrasonic bursts into the air -- reads as fragile, like a child who's suffered a bad fall. ]

[ He refuses to push her further. ]

[Slowly, she wraps her arms around his waist, pulling herself closer. The circles he's rubbing on her back feel nice and, bit by bit, she releases her tension into the air.

You're an idiot, she tells herself, but it doesn't get her to let go. She doesn't have the energy to walk home yet anyway, and she really has missed being touched. (She doesn't get a lot of hugs with Jinora now gone.)]

[ Bit by bit Hei feels Korra's tension dissipate. Her arms, threaded around his waist, are warm but curiously weightless. He can feel the thud of her heartbeat, steady, no longer stuttered. Still, he doesn't draw away; his hands don't stop coasting. One continues its slow circles along her back, while the other lifts to thread into her hair. It's only a moment before he's tugged the hair-pieces off, one after the next, and set them aside. Gathering her hair into a thick coil in one fist -- not rough, but strangely trancelike -- he draws it up and out of the way. Dips his head to brush his lips to hers -- a flutter of air -- before sprinkling patient kisses across her neck and shoulders. It's a singleminded attention, as if his intent isn't to seduce but to soothe. He does want her -- selfishly, greedily -- and he'd like nothing more than to goad her further. ]

[ But, feeling the way she clings, he senses that sort of blind-dash isn't what she needs. It'll have to wait. ]

Korra.

[ A quiet word inflected as a question. An act of permission, a reassurance, a request -- it could be any number of things. ]

[She hums, her eyes fluttering shut as he takes down her hair and trails kisses down her neck. That nice, tingling heat is back. Her shirt slips off her breasts, and the way the fabric rubs against her nipples makes her squirm in her seat.]

We still can't do this here. [a heated murmur in response to his question]

I know.

[ Purring against the warmth of her, Hei nips carefully at her earlobe before bestowing a long, almost lazy lick along the curve of her jaw. With one hand he rubs her hip, while the other slips to her right breast, covering it with the palm. The sensation of her so close, her bare skin against his clothes, the body-heat bleeding into him, is delicious. Like being bathed in warm honey -- which, fine, has never happened to him, but he imagines this would feel exactly like it. ]

[ Lifting her breast with his hand, enjoying the soft weight of it, Hei strokes his thumb across her nipple. Licks it teasingly, then pinches it between his fingers while he tongues around the other nipple. He blows on it -- a hot-cold susurrus of air -- before taking it gently between his teeth, scraping them along the pebbly surface. His other hand focuses on undoing the fastening of her jeans. The click-zzzt of buttons and zipper, and his fingers push between denim and the warm plane of her belly, his palm cupping between her legs. ]

[ We still can't do this here, she said. And he doesn't intend to. But that's not stopping him from taking liberties. ]

[She chokes and whimpers and presses against his hand.]

Hei! [She dig her nails into his sides -- what did she just say?! But that doesn't stop her legs from tightening around his hand, and she rests her head on top of his.]

[ Okay. The jury's out on that one. But he's fairly certain she said his name. It feels gluey yet prehensile in pitch, sticking to the edges of his thoughts like jellyfish, sparking an odd deja vu. Amber had occasionally comes close to saying his name this way. Sometimes Yin does it, but there's something removed in both cases, a restraint borne half out of necessity, half out of a Doll's programming. ]

[ Korra isn't like that, of course. She has no defenses. Everything she feels flares right up to the surface. ]

[ His knuckles scrape the back of her zipper as he pushes his hand down deeper, between her clenched thighs. Her nails are a delightful sting; he can feel the skin throb with a fresh set of pretty contusions. Teasing the thatch of hair between her legs, he lets the heel of his palm grind against her pubic bone, a warm pressure on her clit, as he traces her moist seam with the pads of his fingers. He teases her, letting his fingertip slip just inside her and then fall out, pushing to open her wider and wider, rimming her sex in circles, not sliding his fingers deeper in. His right hand remains occupied with kneading her breast, squeezing the nipple with a slow and subtle pressure. ]

[ He keeps this up -- left hand and right -- into he's worked her into a froth between her thighs. Only then does he withdraw his fingers. Catching her face in his hand, he smears her lower-lip with her own slick before leaning in to suck it off in a biting kiss. ]

Take your pants off.

[ Not an order, but there's an urgency serrating the edges of his voice. In normal circumstances, he'd do it himself. But he doesn't trust himself not too yank too hard and jostle any of her injuries. ]

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