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[She'd been trying so hard to control herself, focusing on her breathing, letting every sensation pass through her without holding onto it, like Tenzin's meditation lessons. And for once, it actually works. (Her mind, detached from physical sensation, sees herself as others would see her: sprawled naked on a couch in the apartment of a guy she knows is dangerous, his head between her legs. There's a brief urge to cover herself from invisible eyes.)

She cries out as the wet heat of his mouth pulls her back into her body, drowning thought in sensation. She grabs onto his hair and pulls hard. If he even thinks about pulling his mouth away, he's going to have a fight on his hands.]

[ Hei's hands rest on her knees. Dimly, he notes the quality of Korra's breathing, the energy vibrating beneath her taut limbs and smooth skin. Miles away, yet so focused, and he can't help but think she's still so vulnerable and small -- the whole span of his palm covers the round of each knee. Easy to bruise. Easier to break. That train-of-thought derails when she cries out. (Oh, he definitely wants to hear that noise again.) ]

[ He holds his tongue against for a motionless moment, pressing her knees open with firm insistence. Hums at that sharp hair-pull; it stings but he's hardly bothered by it. Frantic manhandling is often a good sign -- the best. His lips are crooked into a bit of a smile when he starts back up on her, long slow licks upward, then a soft nibbling descent, sucking and teasing. But he doesn't build a rhythm, doesn't give her anything familiar to catch onto, to stop his gathering momentum. ]

[ It's cruel. But he wants to know how far she can go. Wants to test her patience and demarcations, before she falls apart. ]

[There's a lot about Korra that's easy to break. Her temper. Her concentration. Her patience. He's broken those plenty of times -- is breaking them right now with teeth and tongue. (Other parts of her are not as vulnerable or easy to break, but they are harder to see, often getting lost in the noise and pathos of being 18.)

Her eyes water, more a physiological reaction than tears (though a few of those may be sneaking out as well, blending in with the gamut of emotion and sensation already overwhelming her. She locks her legs around him, her heels digging into his back, demanding.]

Uuggggh you suck! [She's too far gone to notice the inadvertent terrible pun.]

[ Hei doesn't laugh at the poor word choice (No, that was you, not ten minutes ago). But there's a low rumble of amusement against her skin, making everything thrum. He lets her sharp little heels pummel his back, easy to ignore in favor of what's slicked and pulsing under his mouth -- right before he grasps her knees and pushes them back, opening her wide. ]

[ He holds her so she can't buck him off. Presses closer, his wet mouth tight against her, licking words on the point of her clit, alphabet by alphabet. Dipping lower, chasing into her with his tongue, a hum vibrating in his throat as he presses in and out rhythmically despite any ache in his jaw. Slow, maddening, inexorable. Still not giving her what she wants. Still keeping her trapped, at the edge, of an unwavering precipice. ]

[ If she wants to come, he's not going to let her take the easy route. ]

[Oh fuck this and fuck him ~~soon~~. She's had more than her fill of being teased and toyed with and waiting. She hates waiting.

She lets go of his hair and anchors her arms on the couch. She might not be able to buck him off, but she's not planning on doing that anyway. She's not in a great position, but with her arms as leverage, she's hoping to twist her hips hard and flip him over, putting herself on top.]

[ Hei feels her thighs close tight around his head; feels her surge and twist as if to upend him. A girl -- a Contractor -- once clapped her thighs together and attempted to strangle him that way. But that was hand-to-hand combat, not sex. He's not fighting for his life here. ]

[ That doesn't mean he's giving up without a fight, either. ]

[ He grabs her knees, pushing her legs back further, a slight bite of his nails against her skin. Keeps her pinned at this new angle, almost doubled up, before pushing two fingers of one hand into her, slicked and fast, crooking them in a hard counterpoint to his tongue. It's more direct pressure than would be friendly, but he isn't scared of hurting her. ]

[ He wants her to come -- and come hard -- wants to hear her get loud. His mouth stays on her, open and merciless, while his fingers push in and out, the spare arm hooking around her thigh now to keep her from going anywhere. ]

[She growls when her ploy doesn't work, struggles hard against the press of his arm, but as strong as she is, she doesn't have any leverage in this position.

Still, there's victory in defeat. He slides his fingers inside of her and the pressure is almost hard enough to hurt but it feels amazing. She wants to fight him, to buck up against him, to dig her nails into his skin and touch him all over. Adrenalin floods through her, pushing her over the edge. She almost screams as her body shudders.

When her voice dies down and her body stills, you'll finally be able to hear an angry pounding on the floor. Korra may be happy with you, Hei, but the neighbors sure as hell aren't.]

[ Her half-scream fills the narrow flat and climbs up his spine with a hot thrill. He's still there, tracing her so slowly now as she winds down from the peak, before he lifts his head to regard her face, between the tips of her breasts, across the expanse of her belly. His smile is soft, but with a smug edge. Mission accomplished. ]

[ The angry thudding ("Keep it down. People trying to fuckin' sleep here.") makes the floor vibrate and door-frames rattle faintly. Makes him chuckle; he knows she'll both hear and feel that, because his head is resting on her thigh, and his fingers are still inside her. Instead of dignifying the killjoy with a response (neither 'Li's sheepish S-Sorry about that! or his knee-jerk Fuck off. I'm busy) he slowly draws his fingers free, leaving a smear of residual wet and want. ]

[ Leaning up, he presses a kiss to her with his slicked mouth, slow and lazy, letting her sink back down. ]

Edited (y u post before I wanted to 8( ?) 2013-01-17 05:48 (UTC)

[Korra falls back against the couch, panting and boneless and content. Her mind is shrouded in a happy fog; at first she doesn't even register the angry pounding, only the vibration of his laugh against her leg.

But eventually, she does.

She yelps and sits up abruptly, convinced there's someone at the door. Oh no oh no oh no... The panic recedes when she finally realizes it's the neighbors, to be replaced by embarrassment. She clasps her hands against her mouth and groans. How many people heard her?

She resists slightly when he draws her hands away and kisses her. But the warmth of his lips, with their strange tart taste, works to distract her from self-consciousness.]

[ The corners of Hei's mouth twitch. He can't help it. She's all nervous energy and whirlwind panic, as if she's a schoolgirl who's snuck out after curfew. Who, exactly, was she expecting at the door? One of her friends? The eagle-eyed Miss Bei-Fong? It's a distant reminder that the simple things he takes for granted -- inviting a girl to his place, treating the neighbors an obnoxious noisefest -- are still a big deal for her. ]

[ At length, the thudding fades. The neighbor has given up in favor of precious sleep. Slowly, Hei breaks from Korra's lips, a hand lifting to cover her heart. Amused, he murmurs, ]

Sounds like rush-hour in there.

[ Too bad. He's planning to wring a few more cries from her tonight, if he can help it. Still on his knees, he edges in closer, all crooked half-smiles and dark eyes and fairy-light bites down her throat. His unfastened jeans are slung just low enough to be a semi-restraint; his erection, renewed and aching unattended, curves up against his belly, brushing the warm inside of one of her thighs. Catching her head in both hands, he pulls her in, fingers in the tangle of her hair, for another probing, possessive kiss. ]

[ Clearly telegraphing his agenda. ]

[One of her friends? No, none of them know she's here, or that she has any kind of association with him beyond casual acquaintances. But. Come on. When your panties are around your ankle, your pants on the floor, and your t-shirt in the kitchen, the idea of anyone being at the door is nerve-wracking.

Okay, maybe not for him. But she really doesn't fancy the idea of someone standing in the doorway while she's completely naked (not even a blanket to cover herself with!).]

Huh?

[She has no idea what rush hour is (there aren't enough satomobiles in Republic City for that to be a thing), but she doesn't really care, not with him pressing close, trailing kisses down her throat. His erection brushes against her thigh and she grins, wrapping her hand around it as he pulls her in for another kiss.]

[ Hei's from a world where the circumference of privacy shrinks every day. If Big Brother isn't watching you, the Syndicate most assuredly is. Between the two, a string of spycams, bugs, wires and Doll networks practically ensures that third parties know your routine down to the brand of tea you drink and the color of your underwear. Anyway, the soldiers' barracks in Heaven's War, cramped and in-your-face, left him with a different concept of the word private. ]

[ (That said, it's no secret, not to the people that know Hei, that he prefers his business -- and recreation -- to stay out-of-radar.) ]

[ There's a low purl, pitched deep and greedy, as she wraps a hand around him. He keeps the kiss going for a long moment, sparking and teasing with tongue and teeth -- before he breaks away on a light inhale. Slowly, he unfolds himself to his feet. Draws a thin leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, before sloughing the denim off his hips in a quick two-step. He folds them at the edge of the coffee table, beside the wallet (snapped open to retrieve the essential foil square). But instead of urging her to maneuver so she's on her back, instead of climbing up over her, he settles on the couch. Draws her to perch on his lap, face to face, her knees splayed on either side of him, his erection pressed tight and hard against the seam of her body. ]

[ He's a little sweaty, a little sloe-eyed, and his hair's sticking up in wild angles -- but his smile is a wry one. Indulgent. He'd conceded earlier, You have the floor. That mood is lenient enough to extend here. Here's your chance to finally run things, Korra. ]

[She leans back, dizzy and breathless, and watches him strip off his pants, biting her lips in eager anticipation. Her eyes trace the lines of his body, the interplay of muscles and scars -- signs of a rough life. She's never been good at restraint -- it's only recently occurred to her to even try -- but she likes that she doesn't have to hold herself back with him.

She straightens when he pulls out the condom, curious.]

What's the trick for getting that on?

[She watches him put it on, making notes for the next time (she can't already be thinking about next time). She's surprised when he pulls her onto his lap. Control she doesn't have to fight for? What is she supposed to do with that?

She spends a moment just looking at him. The wry smile, the dark eyes. She reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. He might not appreciate the gentleness, but she's still a little nervous and gunshy. She traces his cheekbones with her thumb before leaning in to kiss him, soft and warm, a tactile thank you.

And then she reaches down between their bodies, positions him at her entrance, then slowly lowers herself onto him, inch by inch.]

[ There's a momentary pause at her question, as if it's something serious to consider. He's never thought of this simple routine as a trick -- but it's a reminder that what he takes for granted is still new and strange to her, disparate worlds and enchanted City or no. After a moment, he rolls one shoulder in the equivalent of a shrug. ]

A brain and a working pair of hands.

[ That's the secret to getting most tasks done, isn't it? His eyes flutter half-shut as she smoothes his hair down -- such a simple thing, but it's a softness he rarely allows. His mind is still wired to expect a killswitch sheathed in any tenderness. Purring, he pulls her lower lip into his mouth and scrapes the sensitive inside with his teeth. His fingers are fanned across her hips as she inches down on him, all slippery heat and pulse -- they tighten in a half-bruising clench at the slow, tortuous sink. His hips rock under her, more reflex than not, pushing up so he's all the way in. ]

[ Yes. It's nearly a groan against her lips. ]

[So helpful, Hei.

She lets out a soft cry when he thrusts all the way in -- no pain this time, only surprised pleasure. She stays down on him, rocking her hips instead of pulling out. She leans over and bites his ear.]

Easy now.

[You gave her the floor, after all. She scrapes her nails across his shoulders, a hot sting to whet his appetite.]

[ The most helpful. (She'll have better luck with a hands-on demonstration, more than likely). ]

[ He's perfectly still for an interminable moment as she settles around him. Belly taut, the long muscles of his thighs straining. He'd barely slept the last few nights -- or the few before that, or the few before that -- yet there's so much energy inside him, percolating, like he's had twenty cups of coffee. Yet hand-in-hand with that is a languor, a willingness to let her do as she likes. ]

[ A gasp escapes him as she rocks, a short gasp of gratitude. But her rhythm isn't his; he's in no danger of coming like this, can stay hard for as long as she needs him. The hot cat-scratches draw a hiss; his fingers dig deeper into her hips (the nails are short, but there will be marks) in retaliation. Her words make his smile widen a fraction, his gaze darken a shade. His head lolls back against the couch, a looseness -- almost a relaxation -- in the line of his shoulders. Not unglued, but definitely tipsy. ]

You're in charge.

[ For now, anyway. Make use of it. Let him watch. ]

Yeah. I am. [There's a surprised, goofy pleasure in her voice, puppy dog excitement.

She raises herself up off him, misjudging the distance, so he pops out of her. Oops. She fumbles to put him back inside. When she continues, she's more careful not to raise herself too high. She begins a steady rhythm, slow, getting used to this position.

Her back is a little sore from being hunched over and contorting, so she sits up straight. It gives her an opportunity to watch him as she moves, and drag her nails across his chest.]

[ Hei's expression is pleased and lazy as he regards her. Gaze dipping from her face down the length of her body to where their hips meet. He tries not to think of how often in the past he'd done this exact thing with Amber. (Well, the arrangement wasn't exactly spontaneous -- this position is an old favorite of his). He doesn't want to think of Amber right now. The associations aren't unpleasant -- far from it -- but they don't belong here. ]

[ He watches her find the right rhythm, the right angle -- focused as a tightrope walker, jittery as a kid learning to drive a car. Humming under the scrape of her nails, all susurrus, no displeasure, he lets his hands roam as much of her body as he can reach. Fintertips skimming up her hips and sides, counting her ribs in their upward climb. He cups her breasts in his hands, warming them. Leans in to trace the shape of an X on each nipple with his tongue, biting and then sucking with the same rhythm she's using. ]

Edited (never edit on your phone NEVER NEVER) 2013-01-18 05:41 (UTC)

[Yes, please don't think about your ex-girlfriend while Korra is naked and on you, Hei. This may not be love, may be just a way to ignore pain for a few short hours, but she still wants to be the only person you're thinking about (if you're thinking at all). Casual sex isn't that casual for her.

Fortunately, she has no idea where his mind is trying not to go. She only knows that he looks happy and she really likes the way he cups her breasts. She whimpers softly when he takes them into his mouth, each movement sending spikes of pleasure through her. Her hands comb through his hair, alternately soft and sharp, and she looks down at where their skin meets. She's so dark compared to him. She kind of likes the striking contrast.]

[ It's not something that can be helped, not for a mind that functions on the blueprint of stock-taking and clarity. Everything is stored in little padlocked boxes, intact and valuable, to be examined at another time. But certain scents, sights, sensations have a way of springing those locks open, triggering a vibrant Rolodex of memory, so he's there yet not. Except he knows it's unfair; this isn't Amber but Korra, and this is now, and it will never be exactly like this again. ]

[ He scrapes his teeth along the puckered surface of each nipple, pulling her breast away from her body, matched by his grunts as she tugs his hair. Eventually, one hand shifts from her breasts, mapping a curving path along her side to splay across her lower-back -- a warm anchor. The other hand drops between their bodies. His fingers tease the damp hair between her thighs before his thumb rubs against her clit, slow circles and tantalizing pressure. ]

[ Just as she can't track the highways his mind is on, he can't chase after hers. But right now, in this moment, he can make sure there's one thing between them that stays entirely mutual, equal. ]

[Someday that'll be something that Korra understands. Once she's stepped on that landmine and had it pounded into her head. She's a fast learner, but only by experience.

There's a gasp and a choked moan when he reaches between her legs, and she curls onto him, her forearms resting on his shoulders, giving her the extra support she needs to pick up the pace of her hips.]

[ Her moan dangles in Hei's ears -- stuttered and sweet -- dictating the rise of his heartbeat. As she intensifies the pace, he breaks from feeding on her breasts with a little hitched gasp of his own that leaves icy cold where his mouth was. The hand between her thighs continues its work, urging her higher with slick fingers. His skin is warming fast against hers, a temperature that feels just ten degrees above hell -- sheened in sweat, flushed in the cheekbones and dip of throat. His eyes -- blown pupils and thread-fine irises -- fix on her with a stoned intensity. ]

[ When Korra leans in, he tips his head at an angle. Mouths nudging, then connecting -- sneaking hot little kisses between hungry hums. Meanwhile his palm against her spine exerts a hard pressure. Presses her tighter against him, torso to torso, sweat gluing their bodies together. Every movement makes her breasts catch against his skin, creates an electric friction where her nipples brush his chest. He responds by rocking underneath her, tight hot jabs, letting the rhythm build, a sweet repetition. ]

[Cold! She hisses, a shiver running down her entire body. Every other part of her feels like it's burning. Her kisses are breathless and distracted, and her hips push faster, harder. She doesn't care about control anymore, or competition, or anything except reaching that peak.]

[ Hei breaks from her lips to regard her, exhaling in staccato breaths and gasping words -- then slipping from slurred curses to low, repeating hums. They've changed the rhythm somehow, short hard stabs, again and again; he isn't sure if it's her or him, only that she seems on the verge of exploding, and each motion works to bring him to where she is, angles that make him shudder and tense in kind. ]

[ The shadows cast by lamplight cut her in half: he can see one arm, one shoulder, one breast, one eye. Her hair spills down around her face so the light doesn't catch her eyes; the effect makes her look exotic and a little wild. So fucking sexy -- he may have said that out loud. Except he's teetering close to the edge now, outside himself with pleasure. Working her harder, harder, fingers whispering slickly between her legs and face buried in the curve of her neck as peripheral vision blurs into red-noise. ]

[She catches the words -- slurred as they are -- and buries her head against his as though to hide a blush. That thrill again of being desired. It reaches inside her, soothing aches she forgot she had, putting bandages on wounds she didn't realize hadn't healed. It doesn't fix anything, but that doesn't mean it doesn't help.

The pressure inside her increases, almost painful. (She's going to be so sore in the morning. So sore. Walking is going to be pretty interesting...) It pushes her higher and higher --

-- until finally she's tumbling, shuddering and crying out.]

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