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[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.]

[ Sore, bruised, marked -- and it's all. His. Fault. ]

[ He feels her tense as she crests -- a beautiful shuddering ululation. The cry wings through his head, delicious and tortured, taking him to the turning point and past it. A growl catches sharply in throat, and he shudders all the way down his spine. Both hands splayed wide across her hips now, fingers digging in a constellation of darkening bruises as he jerks up under her. ]

[ His body sings, sparks, erupts, then melts -- a boneless sexed-out sprawl against the couch. Wet skin on wet skin, and Hei lets his head loll back, the arch of neck exposed, dragging in air through his parted lips. His hands, no longer gripping, trace Korra's sweat-slick spine down to the curve of backside, up and down. Writing idle lyrics on skin. ]

[ He lets his eyes close, his sensorium narrowing to become nothing but the slowing thub of heartbeats, and the half-smile flitting across his lips. ]

[Worth it. That better be smug pride and not some weird kind of guilt. Pretty much everything she really likes to do involves getting sore and bruised. This is just something new to add to the list.

She doesn't have the energy to roll off. She puddles against him, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.]

Mmmm.

[She sighs happily, little contented purrs as he strokes her back. Nothing like that first time. She's not afraid of him going cold and pushing her away. Whatever fluke had caused it doesn't seem to be coming back. (If only she knew. But there's no way for her to know unless he tells her, and that's not happening any time soon, is it?)

The sweat quickly cools on her skin, making it pebble and tremble. Her damp hair sticks to her in clumps; some of it gets stuck in her mouth, and she's faced with a dilemma: move her arm to take it out, or keep eating sweaty hair? She goes for a third option, wiggling her jaw and trying to spit it out. Yeah, real sexy, Korra. But the thought just makes her smile against his skin.]

I'm disgusting. [said matter of factly, and with no attempt to do anything about it. She's a pretty do-it-herself person, but right now the only way she's moving is if somebody carries her.]

[ It's a bittersweet pride. What's that joke again? Sweetie, if I can still walk to the kitchen after sex, you don't deserve a fucking sandwich. Sexist, but the punchline's in the right place. For a moment, like Joe Normal, he drowses. Korra's hair, damp and sweet-smelling, tickles his cheek. He shifts to burrow his nose into it. Women knock him out that way, redolent of fruit bowls and Chinese herb shops. Amber had always smelled of countless different things, but most strongly of cordite, apples and mint. A small part of him still thinks of her like that. Cordite. Apples. Mint. ]

[ Unexpectedly, a wash of green hair and a witchy smile surfaces through the waves of his subconscious. Hei inhales, shaking off the tide of both memory and sleep. ]

[ He's dead-tired. But still alert. Thoughts and tension are like caffeine -- he has enough to write a dissertation on. Against him, Korra feels like a gluey second skin. The weight is unwelcome -- his left leg is cramping and pins and needles jolt up the right. He should slide her off. Doesn't want to go soft and lose the condom inside her. But when she starts working her jaw and spitting, he can't help a half-smile. Never a dull moment with her, is there? Dryly, he says, ] Yeah. Absolutely vile. [ Lazily, he lifts a hand to smooth the hair from her face. Tips her head up for a kiss. She's sticky with him, skin, hair. But she still looks good, all tawny and tossed-about. There's a temptation to carry her to the bathroom, share a hot shower. ]

[ But playtime is over. Her roommates will miss her if she hangs around longer. ]

[ Lips feathering hers, he whispers, ] Korra [ and his free hand meets her backside in a swat ] don't fall asleep on me.

[Oh, Hei. You were doing so well. She had been all languid and content and enjoying the kiss.

And then he just had to swat her backside. She yelps in surprise and abruptly straightens.]

Hey! [She scowls and swats his shoulder.] Don't. Do that.

[It gets the desired effect, though -- she rolls off of him and to her feet. (Wouldn't recommend trying it again, though, unless the goal is to turn her off.) She stretches, sighs, and picks her panties off the floor.

................................................ew.]

You're not hiding one of those laundry box things anywhere, are you? [Because she is not walking home in come-and-spit crusted panties. No. Not happening. Argh, and her shirt probably needs washing too. She doesn't mind getting dirty, but she doesn't want to go home in clothes that shout "Hey I just had sex!" That's not something other people need to know. Particularly Chief Bei Fong.]

[ He's not exactly sorry. It was either that, or the risk of spillage-and-slippage. That'd replace the cute-fun-pissy look on her face with real horror, he's sure. He takes her swat in good part, letting her climb off. Stretches to work the kinks from his legs. With the same absent coordination that slipped the condom on, he discards it in the adjacent wastebin. Slips back into his pants with a relaxed shift of weight. On his feet, life always has a way of crashing back on him, with the cold slap of a wave breaking. But he's willing to let that bleakness coexist with this agreeably elastic buzz. ]

[ There's a quiet thrill in watching Korra, backside appled up, scavenge for her clothes. A moment later, he puts all pleasant distractions aside, his expression butter-wouldn't-melt. Laundry Box Things? Oh. Right. ] I'll handle it. Take your shower. [ The washer/dryer is in the kitchen. But given her rocky romance with technology, he's not letting her near it. Hair mussed, barefoot in wrinkled trousers, he pads across the floor to scoop up her breadcrumb trail of clothes. Congratulations. You got him to feed you and do your laundry. He's not sure whether to feel like a whipped pathetico or a glorified babysitter. ]

[(Back in South America, Maxley used to sneer that Hei was both. But that was before he'd developed a reputation for perfect cruelty and ruthlessness. All for Pai's sake.) ]

Thanks. [She quirks a smile at him before heading to the shower.

You don't have to be a whipped pathetico or a glorified babysitter, Hei. You could just be a (sometimes) nice guy. Or sensible. Considering Korra's relationship with technology.

She doesn't dawdle in the shower, but she doesn't rush either. The hot water feels blissful on her sore muscles, after the chilly air, and the soap smells like him. Simple little pleasures, the kind she likes best. The events of the past week feel like a distant nightmare. Things will be okay. Things are already okay.

Fifteen minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom, hair dripping, wrapped in a towel. She pokes her head into the kitchen.]

Shower's free, if you want.

[She shivers a little -- the air feels so cold after the warmth of the shower -- and wraps the towel more tightly around her. The smile she shoots him is a little bashful. It's a strangely exotic feeling: standing in his kitchen in only a towel, waiting for her clothes.]

[ A Nice Guy. That's 'Li's role. Not Hei's. But the very thing that makes Li so convincing is that he has a kernel -- a fraction -- of truth. It solidifies his persona. Gives it a backbone. Some mornings, right before Hei opens his eyes and shakes off sleep, he feels like Li. Not the timidity or stupidity; all that is windowdressing. But the core sense of decency -- of being a cohesive human being, blessed in his wholesome ignorance. ]

[ (Then reality creeps in, and, as with all extra fluff, that is enough to make him vanish. ) ]

[ There's a glance at Korra, calm and appreciative, at the sight of her in just his towel. Again, he feels that strange sense of intimacy in this Livin La Vida Domestica -- just as when he was feeding her. Then he realizes the strangeness is familiarity. It's why his memory keeps resurrecting Amber. The essentials in this hook-up are different -- he's willing to give, where with his one-offs, he'd only taken. Fucking these few years, had been only about his satisfaction, temporary obliteration of tension, temporary access to feeling, the rougher the better. The girls were just the means to that end. ]

[ The realization confuses him. Makes him a little uncomfortable. ]

[ He doesn't take as long as her in the shower. A hot soak first, then turn the water off, then meticulously apply the lather, then turn the water on again to rinse the soap and shampoo off. Five minutes in total. He's all about efficiency and saving resources, the freak. Returning, hair toweled dry, he extends a thick bundle at her. ] I think this is yours. [ Her coat. The one she'd left in the shed. He'd revisited two days ago (a criminal returning to a crime-scene?) to scope the area for a safe-house. The coat was still there, sullen and browned and gathering leaves. He isn't sure what prompted him to pick the filthy thing up and wash it. But he offers it to her now like an old book left in his safekeeping. ]

[Korra can be a little decadent. Hei also has less hair to wash, though.

While he's in the shower, she takes a seat at the kitchen table. She fingers her hair pieces, but doesn't try to put them back in yet. Her hair's too wet, and she likes having her hair down.

She looks up when he comes back into the kitchen, and her eyes widen in surprise.]

My coat.

[She hesitates before taking it, not knowing what to feel. How did he get it? How long has he had it? Why is he giving it back to her now? Touching it brings up a dizzying rush of memories, most of them painful. She can still taste the fear, the hurt, the shame. She still doesn't understand what happened, and she's already tried asking.

At the same time, that jacket is more to her than just that night. It's a piece of home; it's a piece of who she is. She cradles it to her chest.]

Thank you.

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