mortemscintilla | IC Contact

[She takes a shuddering breath and buries her head against his neck.]

Perfect. [She squeezes her muscles around him, rippling them to show her appreciation.]

[ She ripples around him, and Hei's breath hitches on an audible groan. He circles an arm tight around her, supporting her in the solid bulwark of his arms and chest, his long thighs wedged beneath her ass. The other hand coasts slow and caressing up her leg, along her flank. His palm is sweaty; he rubs it across one nipple, then the other, rolling and pinching. Gently cups the weight of each breast in his hands, kneading with light, warm fingers. Flush against each other, the heat of their bodies is a furnace between them, wet skin against wet skin, his cock a deep, prodding pressure inside her. ]

[ Mouthing the edge of her jaw, he rolls his head, lips seeking then catching hers. The kisses are like banter. No pattern; just a dizzying newness of phrases, his whole body alight with each sensation. The hard-soft pressure of teeth and lips seems to rise from somewhere deep inside him, juddering through his hips and fingertips and soft palate and curling tongue. The sharp nip and suck of her lower-lip says, This is good, but the waxing and waning of softness, the dreamy slide of lips, says, This is all for you. ]

[She's not quite sure how to react to that unspoken message. Later, the sensible part of her will wonder if she should believe it, knowing the way that he lies. Even now it strikes her as a little strange, for reasons she can't pin down. (Not being treated as a musical instrument? Or a child to be indulged? A pet to be played with?) But it makes her happy, too. She can feel herself hovering close to the edge, and fights to hold her climax back, not wanting this odd and precious moment to end yet.]

[ He's not sure if he can trust the emotion bubbling in him, either. He's always been a liar. That's all he knows. Like a cracked Russian doll: faces inside faces inside faces. Each one tailored to a specific situation -- so painstakingly crafted and detailed that it almost feels real, if only for a moment. But this ... This is something different. Ominous, even though there is no lightning strike to it. There is a dull and grim amazement, but no eureka scream. It isn't like the Reaper and his cold logic, his brutal calculations and moment of blank-eyed intensity before he makes the kill. No. This is like listening to an air raid with choking breath, as the bombs came crashing above and beyond you -- lighting up the sky and searing the air. Your heart throbs at each brilliant, shuddering boom. ]

[ Each time, you think, this will be the last. Each time, you are wrong. ]

[ He can feel the tension building inside Korra's body: all the little parts gathering momentum, energy coursing through her skin. It is like a giant muscle contracting before it flexes into action. Gathering her in crushingly close, his hips surge to bury himself as deep as he can manage. Jerking under her in hard short stabs now, the sounds of wet suction and sliding skin undercut by the ragged saw of his breathing, the blood pulsing thick and hot in his veins, in his skull, in flowering bursts of color behind his eyes, as he climbs and climbs. ]

[Korra feels something wet building around her eyes, and hopes it's sweat, not tears. It would be stupid and worse than pathetic to start crying because...what? He's fucking her like she's a person? She feels cared about and maybe possibly dares to hope that being in love with him isn't the worst possible decision she never even realized she'd made? Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid. The word becomes a chant, falling into rhythm with his thrusts, turning into meaningless syllables in her mind as her climax builds, and then shatters as her body falls apart.]

[ Hei feels Korra's muscles rippling under his hands like a hot river. It almost feels like he can taste the South American jungle again, the steam and wild animal cries. Smell the water and blossoming heat. His heart is like a crazy starling flapping inside his chest. He wants to cry out but the sound is locked up somewhere under his lungs. ]

[ The sunlight slants in dusty beams, like rays falling through the stained-glass windows of an old cathedral. And in the glow, Korra is sweat-filmed and quaking, licks of dark toffee hair smudged across her eyes, such impossibly blue eyes -- her lashes gummed together into wet spikes, making him wonder if she's crying. She's been a cynosure ever since he's known her. Fighting or dancing, poised in solitary melancholy or surrounded by the people who care for her, she is brilliance, she is power. And then one day in a hormonal, booze-addled lapse, she'd let a blackened creature like him sink inside, past the surface shimmer, the blinding energy she wore like a breastplate. ]

[ Now, as then, Korra letting go is one of the most hypnotic things he's ever seen. ]

[ When he comes, it's with a convulsive gasp, his shoulders locking up like granite under her hands. For an infinite moment he shudders against her, eyes squeezed shut. Spending in short, sharp, jerky thrusts, and then, fiber by fiber, relaxing, sinking into the slick, sticky warmth of their tangled bodies, sweat and fading soap and the salty-sweet musk of sex. ]

[She melts against him, panting, her muscles trembling and weak. She kisses his shoulder and embraces the cozy fog of post-coital bliss. She loves these few short moments just after sex, when the endorphins are still running high and it's easy to believe that everything will be okay.]

[ Slumping back on the futon, Hei takes her with him so she's sprawled on his chest. His eyelids droop, a little smile on his lips. Sunlight streams through the skylight grid picking up the dust above their bodies. He lets the seconds tick by, enjoying how still everything is. Nothing but their own slowing breaths and the floating dust. For once, he's in no mood to spring up as soon as his breathing settles. Nestling her into his arms, he buries his head in her warm, sweet smelling hair. Presses gentle kisses to the clock of her face. His lips play with hers. One hand slips between her legs, sealing her tight with his palm as he cradles her -- a gesture that isn't tender so much as possessive. ]

[ It's a long moment before he nudges his forehead against hers. Almost catlike, except it's not playful. He's just checking her temperature. ]

You okay?

[She squirms a little at the touch between her legs and smiles at him.] Yeah. [Better than okay right now. Between the sex, the little gestures of affection, and the cuddling right, she feels... She feels happy. Really, truly happy.

She steals a quick kiss from his lips.] You?

Hmm.

[ It's an absent sound, more than denial or assent. Slowly, he licks his lips, tasting the salt and Korra-ness that clings there. He feels like he's swallowed tiny illicit pastilles of chemical happiness -- knowing, with time, the effects will fade. Reality and logic will encroach, as always. There is no instruction manual about how to go about life with a divided mind, a divided heart. How to be a proper companion to an Avatar, but to fulfill your own responsibilities back home. All those years in the frontline have only taught him how to lie, kill, betray, grieve, outrun, while negotiating the whims of fate like an imperious mistress who was off her rocker two-thirds of the time. ]

[ Swallowing, Hei shuts his eyes. His bones ache. Suddenly he wants to be alone, to think. ]

[ Gently, he extricates himself from Korra's moist delicious tangle of limbs. Slips off and knots up the condom, dumping it in the trash. When he twists to kiss her, it's long, slow, melting -- both an apology and a leave-taking. Drawing back, he nuzzles his nose lightly against hers. ]

Get some sleep, all right? I have -- [ Too much on my mind. ] Something to take care of.

[And just like that, something in him changes. Korra's heart sinks into her stomach. It's not like the times when his humanity shuts off, at least; there's nothing overtly threatening in his manner. He's still gentle, even attentive. But his mind has gone somewhere else, and it never goes anywhere good.]

Okay. [She runs her hand up and down his arm and presses one last kiss to his lips; whether to reassure him or herself, she doesn't know.]

[ It's like watching a shroud of dark clouds cover the sun. Her expression shades, the glow in her eyes diffusing. He wants to say something to reassure her, but what? Everything sounds so insipid. Artificial. Instead he resumes his clothes amidst a tinge of both sadness and relief. Another thing he isn't used to is offering simple kindness to Korra. A Contractor's version of kindness, sure; the I'll Kill Your Enemies type. But there is also the ordinary kindness, that two people who care about each other are supposed to show; give and take, share and share alike. It brings up a shame that crackles beneath the surface of his skin. He doesn't know how to do that -- not unless it's for a purpose. ]

[ Dryly, he swallows. Sinks into the kiss she offers, and he's not sure if he's trying to seek absolution or to distract her from her disappointment. ]

[ Keeping his gaze averted from hers, he slips into his shoes and coat. Forces himself not to glance back at Korra -- all rumpled and warm and beautiful, never anything less than beautiful -- as he steals out of the safehouse, and into the chilled sunlit streets. ]

[ He has a great deal of thinking to do. ]

IC Contact

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject