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[mortemscintilla]

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[anatural]

[Faster, maybe, but not very comfortable for her. She rolls her eyes and shoves that in the box with all the other petty grievances she has with him. It's not worth lingering over, particularly when he's kissing her and the soft touches fill her with a fizzy warmth.]

Okay.

[She hasn't noticed or cared about how separate he keeps his stuff. She senses, sometimes, his discomfort here, but she figures it will pass. Things always do.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It'll pass -- or pile up, layer after layer, until something ignites it into an blistering explosion. His dissatisfaction with the City; Korra's gathering grievances with him. Sometimes he finds himself daring quick glances at her, afraid to see the hatred, the anger she might one day unload on him. Everything he's done, everything he expects every minute. All those accusations, pure justice. (Sometimes he has terrible nightmares: he finds himself inside Korra's head, shrunk to microscopic size on the teeming surface of a brain eaten away to the size of a chimpanzee's by parasites -- eight-legged tick-looking creatures with needlish mouths -- and Hei powerless to stop them. This is better, of course, than the dream in which he himself is a parasite feasting on the jelly of her brain.) ]

[ He tries not to think about it. Instead he draws her in until he can feel all of her skin, supple and warm. Sucks her lower-lip gently between his teeth, a parting sting, before he lets her go. Slipping on a pair of baggy shorts, he hefts the laundry basket and exits the room. ]

[ Time for a shower and pancakes. Lots of pancakes. ]