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[She's trying to think of the least sexy things possible. Sealblubber. Raw fish. Chekov's face. Anything to keep herself under control and make him break first. Problem is, she can't think. Her mind is blank of rational thought, filled with nothing but pleasure and vicious determination. She gnaws on his shoulder, claws at his back, one hand going up to pull his hair. Desperately trying to push him over before she falls again.]

[ It's not Chekov's face Hei's thinking of. His mind always functions on a multiplicity of levels. Even now, as the sensations swell like a song's chorus, everything in the room blurring to white-noise, part of him is flicking through all the ways he knows how to say This Blade Is Rusty in half a dozen different languages. His breath hitches, the rhythm of his hips stuttering for a second because he -- He's not coming, but it's only a matter of time. She's so fucking tight and wet around him, and he can't help the sharp groan that vibrates up his throat, lips hot at her neck. Almost every breath is shorter, deeper. More frantic. With each successive burst of pleasurepain -- Korra's teeth biting his shoulder, her nails tearing hot lines across his back, red spots blooming behind his eyes as she yanks his hair -- it's like she's scything away another steely layer of his self-control. ]

[ But he doesn't stop. Doesn't crumble. Growling, he snatches her hand. Kisses her, and kisses her, harsh and biting and greedy, rolling his hips against that good spot inside her, his hand gripping her wrist, pinning it above her head, while his other hand stays between her legs. No longer stroking her clit; instead it's a sudden sharp pinching, the kind that makes anyone spasm, scream, shake. ]

[She's going to get you for that.]

[ Score. ]

[ As the first reverberations of her climax hit, Hei exhales a jittery noise and jams himself into her, locked there, his body rigid and paralyzed. He's probably nicked her cervix -- he doesn't mean to make it hurt except that, in the moment, maybe he does. Maybe he just wants to leave something. A mark, a notch, a scar. His own crest comes in long shudders, tearing a groan from him that's more suggestive of pain and its release than of pleasure. It fades slowly, leaving Hei's throat full, his whole body shaking, feeling wrecked. He makes an involuntary sound as he drops his hand from Korra's wrist. ]

[ No afterglow, no sweet wind-down. He goes soft in her, on her, still sprawled close, heartbeat thudding and quieting in the cage of his ribs, his temples, and leaving him bonelessly twitching like some half-dead sea creature. ]

[Korra doesn't even notice the nick -- not yet, at least. She's riding the post-coital bliss for all its worth. When he drops her wrist, she takes the opportunity to wrap her arms around him and rest her head against his chest. (Maybe a part of her does notice the contrition, and takes advantage of it to steal something she doesn't get enough of.) She strokes his back, trying to soothe the scratches, checking to see if she drew blood.]

[ Even as she settles in, Hei's disposing of the condom before he forgets how his hands work, all loose-limbed and spent as he is. It's a combination of both uncanny familiarity with the bedroom's layout, and his precise aim, which means it gets tied off and thrown into the wastebasket with neat accuracy. He rolls onto his back, stretching an arm out behind Korra, so she's nestled securely with her head on his chest. He feels pleasantly empty, drowsy, enjoying her damp hair spread out everywhere, and the feverish warmth of her skin. Korra's stroking hands won't encounter more than a few contusions, sticky but already closing, across the scar-pitted surface of his skin. ]

Hope your back's okay, [ he says, though he doesn't really sound apologetic -- there's an idle half-smile on his face that's more satisfied that rueful. ]

You'd be able to tell better than me. [She presses a kiss to his chest and then buries her head against him, surrounding herself with warmth and a soothing darkness. She feels sore but pleasantly sleepy.]

[ If he's at all surprised by the affection, Hei doesn't let on. Instead his palm shifts, fingers skating up and down the bow of her spine, taking his time until their breathing falls together. Part of him badly wants a shower, a snack, some solitude. It's ordinary people -- civilians -- who hang around in bed like this. Civilians who want to cuddle. Civilians who share pillow-talk. Civilians who ... probably have some semblance of a heart. And right now Hei needs to be with somebody who has a heart. Even if that means that in the end, matters become too emotional. But he's long since stopped thinking of Korra in those terms. She's not just an asset or fuck-toy or an emotional liability or anything that can be described by a generic noun -- she's Korra. ]

[ Maybe -- eventually -- that name will stop sounding like a dead end or a mayday call in his mind. Maybe, with a couple thousand more swallows, those solid, prickly lumps of disquiet in his throat will stop forming. ]

[ Saying Go to sleep or Good night or even Take a breather, for some reason, seems both too intimate and too frivolous. And so Hei doesn't do it. He just lets his eyes slip shut, circles his arm around her, and lets her curl closer. ]

[She hums a little, surprised that he's not pushing her off, and pleased too. She lets the soft touch on her back lull her into a contented doze.]

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