mortemscintilla | IC Contact

[THANKS A LOT, LITTLE SISTER. Korra had been just about to catch her breath with Pai dumped that bombshell and walked out the door. When she could finally breathe again, she glared at Hei.]

You told her?!?!?

[ Hei watches Pai flit away with a kiss, that acetate-sweet, insincere smile on her face. When Pai's door clicks shut upstairs, however, he sets his plate aside, gaze dulling into hardness behind its previously pleasant, absorbed expression. She's being a harpy, but it isn't her fault, really. She's practically clouded with an intense dislike of Korra -- with memories of Amber, and the bleak knowledge of her own loneliness in the City. Besides, she doesn't have all the facts about Korra. He's never told her the truth about who Korra once reminded him of. She knows little of the good, and thinks the bad exponentially worse than it is. Holds grudges because she fancies Korra is a replacement of the woman who once meant so much to her and Hei. ]

[ He will have to talk to her. Ask her, too, how she knows about the broken armrest incident. (Has she been reading his expense reports?) But later. Later. ]

[ At Korra's accusation, he gives her a vaguely blistering look. Rises and gathers up the dirty crockery, carrying them to the sink. ] She's curious by nature. What I don't tell her, she finds out herself. [ Rinsing the glasses, then the dishes, he stacks them in the washer. Shuts it with a tight, jerky motion, wiping his hands on a small towel. After a beat, he adds, ] Try not to be so reactive around her. Otherwise she'll try harder to get a rise out of you.

[Korra's heart clenches when his gaze dulls, and she wishes she hadn't said anything. Wishes she hadn't come. Nothing good happens when his eyes go flat.

She stands up, feeling too vulnerable seated.]

Maybe I should just go. [Kind of hard to feel sexy when he's gone cold and there's a teenager who hates her in another room.]

[ The light from the window filters through, a mellow collision of orange and pink. Hei fixes his eyes on the glow, ignoring Korra. It's not that he's not listening; he's simply thoughtful. A quiet concern for Pai pulses through him like a drug released into his bloodstream. But after a moment, he shakes himself out of it. Blinks at Korra, and for one expressionless moment it seems as if he's going to say, Yeah, you should. Instead he reaches out wordlessly, fingers looping around her wrist -- and swings her in. It's not a gentle embrace -- it's rough and tight and a little forceful. But it's sincere. ]

[ Threading his arms around her, he drops his head so their foreheads touch. Quietly, he asks, ]

Don't want to be left alone with me?

[ The moment he rolls into himself, she gets jittery. He's noticed it over and over. He can't blame her; but he wishes he could explain, that it's easier to turn yourself off as a human being, than to engage in a universe full of tangled emotions and ideas, each one coiling around you, chokingly-tight. ]

[Korra doesn't resist when he pulls her in, although it takes her a moment to actually relax. She winds her arms around his waist and leans against him.]

It's not you I mean being alone with. [It's the person he becomes when he goes away in his mind.]

[ You're still alone, either way. ]

[ He doesn't say that. It's not her fault she doesn't know his secret edges or how they'll never fit with hers. Not her fault she keeps crashing herself into one of the corners of his personality -- or painting herself into one, more like. There is an intimacy to sex, it's true -- tinged cold with the knowledge that it's also easy. And stupid. And pretty futile, really. It just leaves you all drippy and limp and has no power to change anything. If you're a fucked-up saddo going in, if you only have bare fragments of humanity left and your life is ruined, you'll still be sad and fucked-up and ruined coming out. And he's a fool if he thinks it'll mean anything. ]

[ He is a fool. But he's in need of stress relief. Shutting his mind off. Maybe he should just drop Korra, go find the relief by sparring. Or hitting up a bar, finding a girl, someone, anyone Pai won't be so upset with, to use as a receptacle It's what he used to do before. He's not a real Contractor. But he's not a perfect human, either. Never was. He shouldn't be here with a -- a child who can't even comprehend the word ruined, let alone fix it. But ... ]

[ I want. I want. I want. It clamors through his mind, overpowering, as he gathers Korra in tighter. Her forehead feels hot and dry against his. ]

Come upstairs.

[ Flatly calm, but the air vibrates around the words like it's a question more than a demand. ]

[She leans up to press her lips against his.]

You're going to be here, right? [She looks into his eyes, making sure he's back and present.]

[ Hei isn't sure what to say to her. (Why, he wonders, do they call it 'post' traumatic stress? There is no 'post.' It's an ongoing barrage of ugliness, some of it wrenching you so far out of yourself you'll never reach solid ground again; other bits sucking you so deep into the recesses of memory that it's like you'll never resurface. He can only describe it as a history of all the shit that's happened to him, a snapshot by satellite, like the aerial view of a cyclone on the weather channel. That bluish-red striation there -- that was the time I was attacked in a trench as a twelve-year-old. Those pink highlights? Those are all the times someone I trusted pulled a knife on me.) ]

[ To deflect the swirling images, he seeks Korra's mouth, engages her in kisses to postpone the moment when his hands go into her clothes, when her clothes come off. It's all predictable, and meant to happen; after their reconciliation earlier, barring mishaps, it's a foregone conclusion. But that doesn't explain why everything in his head goes up in fire the colour of tangerines. Korra's mouth always tastes of something citrus and sweet, something that can never fill you up yet leaves you hungry for more. He snatches at that elusive taste, the sensation, to ground himself. ]

[ When their mouths break, he murmurs, ]

Stop me -- if I try to go.

[Easy to say. Not so easy to do. But Korra has never backed down from a challenge before. She nips his bottom lip and grins just a little.]

Okay.

[Her arms are already wrapped around him, so it doesn't take much effort to lift him up and spin him around. He won't let her carry him long, of course, but from time to time she likes to remind him that she can. She's not a delicate little girl.]

Hey.

[ It's not irritated so much as amused. All of Hei's knowledge relies on his own center of gravity, so it doesn't take him more than a moment to extricate himself from her grip -- a heartbeat's maneuvering, a gymnast's contortions, a slide of his pitched weight. Untangling himself at the center of the narrow spiral staircase, the wood creaking beneath his feet, he lets a smile tip crookedly in place. He's not exactly in the mood for acrobatics, but that's what he likes about Korra's impulsive rough-housing. It makes him stay, unable to go anywhere mentally or physically, and it's just what he needs. ]

Hey yourself. [She makes a face at him.] You do it to me often enough.

Maybe it's for the joy of hearing you squawk.

[ The smile had lost its battle with his lips, but it was obvious in his voice. Keeping his eyes on her, he takes a backward step up the staircase. Extends a hand almost playfully, the fingers starfishing in empty air as if asking her to come closer, even as he drifts further away. He doesn't wait for her to follow, though. A couple of beats, and he's already turning to head to his room -- the one with the white door at the far end of the landing. ]

Jerk. [But it's said with affection. She takes his hand and follows him up the stairs, sparing a glance at the door that Xing had gone through.]

[ Twining his fingers with Korra's, Hei follows her gaze to Pai's room. In the hall, he pauses to listen. The door is shut, all is quiet. As if the person inside is quiet and still, too. There's a thin pencil of light from the gap where the door doesn't quite meet the jamb. When they were children, decades ago, Hei used to read to her in bed at night without a lamp on, the room completely dark except for the outline of the drawn shades, an atmosphere of sleepy childish contentment spinning between them. There's none of that now. Pai's corner of the hall feels dark, despite the lamp in the corner which mainly serves to produce shadows. It radiates, as it always does, an aura of transience and isolation and either very little or too much sleep. She always locks her door. ]

[ Resisting the urge to knock, check on her, Hei tugs Korra in the direction of his own door. The room is in an indigo darkness, the patterned glass scattering almost watery shadows where it can, giving the impression of a little bedroom being at the bottom of the sea. It's surprisingly small. There's a narrow bed; a wardrobe; a dresser; books; a desk. Yet the furniture manages not to fill the space in the slightest. For all of BK201's sharp urbanity on-duty, there's something strangely unsophisticated about the slightly mismatched furniture and the sense of hard study which seems to be built into the very floorboards. ]

[Korra likes that about Hei's spaces -- their stark simplicity. They're simple, functional, and so much more familiar than any other place in the City. She doesn't notice how the furniture doesn't match, but she knows she likes it.

Closing the door behind them offers a sharp sense of relief; even though little sister had her own door closed, Korra likes having the additional barrier between them. The watery pattern of shadows is not-so-strangely soothing to someone of the water element. This may be the most relaxed she's felt all evening. She tugs Hei down onto the bed, offering kisses and touches to ease them (or at least her) back into the mood that Xing had shattered.]

[ Arched over Korra in his bed, Hei still feels the mess of metal and fuses and tiny pieces of explosive memory rattling around in his brain. He doesn't want to think about Pai, whose sulky silence resonates even in his closed room. Doesn't want to think about Amber, whose smooth white skin would look almost luminous in these shadows. Doesn't want to think of all the mistakes he's made with Korra, using her as surface for the battering-ram of his temper and hang-ups and selfishness. Doesn't want to think about how culpable he is in the disaster that is this relationship. There are so many ways, it's like a reflection in a four-faceted mirror. ]

[ Blotting out each anger-knit thought, he kisses Korra over and over, hard and hungry. Absorbing the way she tastes, the way her kisses aren't like anyone's but hers, and aren't for anyone but him. Despite her relative inexperience, she really is a sweet kisser, and holds him like he belongs to her, touching him with no shyness. He's glad for that. Breaking from her mouth, at last, his hands cup her face, the thumbs gliding across her lashes, so she has to open and look at him. ]

What would you like?

[ Not polite, but matter-of-fact. It's not a question he ever asks. But he doesn't want to risk misinterpreting her signals. His head is in a strange place, and his instinct is for something violent and fast, in positions where he doesn't have to meet her eyes. ]

[What would you like? She opens her eyes slowly, and studies him. She can feel the disconnect, even through the hunger, and her heart flutters in ways that aren't wholly pleasant. But he'd told her not to let him go into his head.

She reaches down and tugs up his shirt.]

Fewer clothes would be a good start.

[She arches encouragingly and kisses him.]

[ Hei's mouth bites at Korra's, and he explores the inner curve of her upper lip with his lower. Something ruptures in his chest as she arches against him, and his breath staggers out of his mouth in a desperate rush before he presses his lips more firmly to hers -- a parting kiss. His weight shifts back to his knees, the dip in the bed making his hips slot neatly against hers as he sits up. The windows make a drizzle-splash pattern of shadows across the room; a sliver of pale light is visible between the plain curtains. Shrugging off his hoodie, he makes short work of his white buttondown shirt, his hair dancing in a crackle of static around his face when he's free of it. He drops both items on the floor, having long given up on his usual precise tidiness where Korra's concerned. ]

[ His spine curves as he leans in, tugging Korra's own shirt off in his pursuit for skin on skin. Dimly, irrelevantly, he thinks that he was supposed to switch the sound system on -- fill the room with white-noise from the radio or some random Top 10 pop-song. But right now, he could care less. ]

[Korra wriggles out of her shirt and sits up, pressing him back and winding her arms around his neck.]

Pants too. [She smirks against his lips. Not exactly an easy to demand to fulfill with her arms around him, but she doesn't want to sacrifice their closeness until she absolutely has to.]

[ Hei hears Korra's demand almost at a muffled distance; more vibration than sound. Then again, that might be because his face is pushed to the side of Korra's throat, his hard breath stirring her hair, his hands stealing up her sides and ribs. He holds her tight for a moment, not affectionate or romantic so much as possessive, feeling her soft bra cups squashed against his chest, her belly against his. He kisses her throat and shoulder and again her throat, sucking a mottling of marks onto her skin, breaking blood vessels with his mouth. Her breasts, cupped in the fabric of her brassiere, are heavy in his hands, and he kneads them through the material and underwire with a scientific slowness. ]

[ Pants? Oh. Right. Breaking away, he slips off his shoes, then the constriction of jeans, in a tight kicking-squirming motion, until he's on his knees at the foot of the bed. Closing a hand around each of Korra's ankles, he drags her until she's sitting at the edge, her legs hanging down on either side of him. There's a moment to get her boots off, before he drags off her jeans and underwear. Biting the rounds of her bare knees, he mouths the inside of one thigh, dragging his teeth across the smooth skin to the final stretch between her legs. ]

Pushy pushy pushy. [Korra mutters as she squirms out of her jeans. She feels like she's talking more than she usually does when they fuck -- their encounters, while far from quiet, are generally short on actual words -- but she still feels like he's detached somehow. His body is operating on animal instinct while his thoughts are somewhere else.

Their encounters almost always fall into the same pattern: he eats her out, she gets him off, then they have sex. Before that night with the ropes and the chocolate, she couldn't even have imagined another way of doing it. Now... now she doesn't want ropes, and she doesn't want chocolate, but she wants something other than the routine that at this point they could both do in their sleep.

She grabs his hair before he can reach his intended destination.]

Stop.

[She tugs, just hard enough to encourage him to straighten.] Get back in bed with me. [If he does, she'll gently guide him down until they're lying face to face, his hand between her thighs, her hand around his erection. A wild and crazy change? No, but hopefully different enough to keep him on his toes. Keep him here, in this moment with her.]

[ It's a routine Hei's slipped into out of ingrained expectation. It's in his nature to stake his claim first. But he's also been trained to keep to patterns that measure up to mainstream sexual propaganda, the unspoken chorale of This Is What You're Supposed To Do. Maybe it's boring Korra. Maybe she isn't in the mood for oral sex. Maybe she wants something different. He doesn't know. His thoughts feel thick, slow, rolling in and out like waves. Her physical cues and his, always so seamlessly clicking, are awash, suddenly, in a hot, muddled confusion. ]

[ Climbing onto the bed, up her body, he surges close, his mouth catching Korra's a little too roughly, kisses wet and hard as if he's desperately trying to press himself as close as he can possibly be, here in this narrow stifling room in this narrow stifling City that Hei -- hates. Hates. It's given him Pai, yes. But with her, it's also given him all the anxieties and ugliness that he'd once shoved behind safety-glass in his mind. The sight of Pai, the tones of her voice, her gaze, stir them out of the shadows like ghosts. He could never resent Pai for that. It's not her fault. But he does resent his own weakness at not being able to shove the specters aside. ]

[ He wants to tell Korra, I can't do this right now. But when he wrenches his mouth away from hers and drops his head to her shoulder, he pants. ] I'm glad you're here, [ instead. Truth, lie, it doesn't matter. Right now, she evokes reminders of no one he knows -- and he's grateful for that. ]

[She's stroking him slowly, with that twist he loves. His kisses hurt, but it's not like this is would be the first time. She's actually getting into it when he pulls away.

I'm glad you're here. The words should make her heart flutter, and truth be told, there's a queer little jump. But mostly, she's just concerned. He almost never makes emotional statements like that. On top of everything else that's going on tonight...it doesn't feel right.]

Okay, what's wrong?

[ Hei's hips rock in a restless, yet absent sort of way. His free hand is wrapped tight around Korra's so she doesn't withdraw her hand from his erection. The other hand slides a rough palm flat over her hip, brushing the ticklish tuft of hair between her thighs, then slipping between them. His fingers dip low into slick heat, pressing, stroking, circling. But it's clear, from the pressure, much like the way he kisses her again, that there's a calculated agenda behind this. Not affectionate – more strategic. A ceasefire. She asks, What's wrong?, but he doesn't want to answer. Doesn't know how to. He's glad she's here, he's told her so, but he doesn't quite know what he meant by it, or why he said it, only that he feels it, wants it. It's easier to focus on Korra, sprawled beside him on the bedspread that gives off a smell of chemical cleanliness. Easier to will himself not to think. The thing to do is to rush this along, to get to the part that he's both itching for yet irrationally dreading -- the actual fucking -- and then once that's done, he can slow it all down again, and enjoy Korra. ]

[ Not meeting her eyes, he says, ] It's nothing. [ Kisses her again, with a pushier edge, as an unstated I don't want to talk about it. ]

You always say that, and it never is. [It's hard to get the words out with the way he's kissing her, but she doesn't want to let this slide, regardless of his pushiness and that unspoken message. She clenches her legs tight to trap his fingers, and while she keeps stroking him, the touch is more soothing than sexy.]

Remember how you said we should talk more?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject