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mortemscintilla) wrote2012-07-13 12:13 am
mortemscintilla) wrote2012-07-13 12:13 am
Entry tags:
IC Contact
ψ messages | ϑ text | ⊕ action
ψ messages | ϑ text | ⊕ action
ψ messages | ϑ text | ⊕ action
ψ messages | ϑ text | ⊕ action
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (He still remembers feeling lost and broken after Heaven's War, but picking himself up anyway in the aftermath of it.) ]
[ There's a muted gasp and a sputter when the water goes from hot to scalding. Unexpected, but Korra probably doesn't realize that's a temperature Hei prefers. He jerks back, spitting slightly, swiping the water off his eyes. The upward glance he flicks at her is undeniably wry. ] All right. So pressured schedules aren't your thing.
[ The mild amusement fades at her expression, at those frantic apologies. Shit. He gives her a a quick kiss below her navel, right above the hairline. Rises to turn the water off, before gathering her in. The steam is so thick it feels like he’s inhaling and exhaling through a wet blanket. There's a hum of want still in his muscles, like a live wire pooling low in his groin, and it's -- it's so fucking frustrating. But being with Korra is about patience and carving out space where there is none. ]
[ He steps closer, tracing out her spine with his fingertips. It's a language of almost-tenderness Hei uses when he wants something; it's almost never sincere. Except now. Taking her face in both hands, he gently kisses her temples, each eyelid, the tip of her nose. Presses another kiss to her mouth, tasting water and salt on the tip of his tongue. (Strange, that it's a taste he's beginning to associate with her) He doesn't ask if she's okay. Instead: ]
Let's get you dried off. All right?
⊕ march 15th, late evening
She hasn't cried like this since she first arrived, sobbing into Bolin's arms. Thinking about him makes her cry even harder. She tries to hold it in and breathe, but the effort just makes her choke. When he suggests drying off, she nods, coughing too hard to speak.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ Once again, he marvels at the surrealism of time. Somewhere along the line, she's forgotten to be shy with him. ]
[ Wrapping her in the towel, he starts drying her off. Towels her hair into a damp fluffy nest, before scrubbing himself off briskly. Her eyes are still moist with tears; she reminds him of that little girl again, stunned by a sudden fall. Without a word, he swings her up, and carries her out. In his bedroom he turns on that clacking radiator in the corner, and tugs down the bedspread, before depositing her on the mattress, half sprawled on her, still cradling her against him with one arm. ]
[ His eyes are dark and half-lidded; he feels as if all his weight is centered in his erection, trapped between their bellies. Yet somehow the intense throbbing is easy to ignore in favor of the soft openmouthed kisses he presses to her mouth. ]
Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening
She wishes he had just left her on the roof, frozen and numb and tearless. She feels like she's never going to stop crying. It makes it impossible to do anything -- she can feel his erection pulsing between them, wants to touch it, bring this situation back to something familiar, but she's paralyzed with uncertainty.
Even her kisses are distracted, half-hearted. They seem to say I'm sorry.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ Each one on the fringes of a crackle-&-burn that he hopes spells out You've done nothing wrong. ]
[ He can taste her tears sliding between their fused mouths. His whole body is overheating for her, but he keeps it going, keeps her pinned. Each kiss slow, languid. Excruciatingly intense. He wants to impart that message into her with total concentration, lick a wordless assurance into her mouth. Not stopping until he feels the tension go out of his own body, ratcheting to a simmer, not a boil. Not until, a few minutes later, he's almost calm, the barest touch of his lips on hers, sharing inhales and exhales, as his hands make soothing sweeps along her body. ]
[ When he draws back to look at her, finally, he is dark-eyed, lip-swollen. His hand moves up to cup her jaw, thumb ghosting across her cheekbone like a kiss. ]
....Korra?
[ There's a question, quiet and heated, in his tone. We can stop and We can keep going. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
She hears the offer in her name, and finds that hard to trust as well. Despite what others may think, she does know Li, and that he rarely does anything that doesn't benefit him in some way. When she's gone to him for comfort before, he's gotten something out of it.
She doesn't want to be left alone if she says she wants to stop.]
I need some water.
[So instead she says "pause." She pushes herself up slowly, intending to slide out of bed and get something to drink. Either that will give her the time to feel ready for sex again, or she'll have pulled herself together enough to handle being alone.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ Ignoring, all the while, how his arousal has descended to a harsh miserable ache. ]
[ Still, it's only a moment before he's gathered his thoughts. He can read people with unnerving accuracy, and Korra exists within a clear divide of transparency. She doesn't just want water. She wants to pull herself together, and he can respect that. But at the same time, she's shying away. Suspicious of him and his intentions. He can't blame her. Despite his sympathy, his willingness to play nice, he's operating on that single-minded determination that spikes when he wants something. On top of it, he's always been volatile, especially with her, and Korra often doesn't know what face of his he'll show. ]
[ Of course she's formed a habit of wariness around him. ]
[ Hei absorbs these facts with a sense of acceptance, if not eagerness. But he doesn't draw away. He slides behind her carefully, and gathers her hair back. Traces his lips along her spine, feeling the way the vertebrae fit together. Murmurs, into the crook of her shoulder, ] Whatever you need. [ Not entirely sincere. But not a blatant lie, either. Hei isn't used to thinking in terms beyond me and mine. But that doesn't mean he's incapable of allowances. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
Her hands tremble as she takes a glass and fills it with water from the sink; it stops after she's gulped the whole thing down. She fills the glass again and drinks more slowly, knowing she'll get sick if she drinks too much too quickly.
Another half glass and she's calmer. Not calm, not numb, not free of pain -- just enough to return to the bedroom and hesitate for only a moment before climbing on top of him. It's probably a bad idea, but she finds herself unable to care.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ The absolute lack of anything between them tonight is strange. He's so used to getting things done fast; even during zipless fucks with other girls, on nights when he'd stay with them for hours, he was always all about quantity: fast, efficient, straightforward. At the end of the day, sex is never about intimacy for him. It's about the brute physicality of it, the promise of the finish line. But that's not what's happening here. ]
[ He can't stay indifferent to her grief. Can't find, in himself, that lusty violence that only blossoms in the indifferent turns of the flesh. This isn't going to be another serving of the usual, with a bit of sugar on top. He wants to take this at a leisurely pace -- and Hei doesn't do that for everyone. ]
[ He should put a stop to this. Right now. He'll regret the vulnerability later. Worse, so will she. ]
[ When Korra returns, he's half-propped up in the middle of the bed. The lamp is on, throwing a dark umbra across the room. He meets her gaze straight-on, his face impassive, like a duelist trying to reach an impasse. Starts to say You can go to sleep if you want. But then she climbs onto him, and suddenly he's all out of reasoning. ]
[ This close, he can smell her -- the scent of soap, her skin, an aftertang of tears. Nothing about her is what he's used to -- enthusiasm and solar-flares, but it's still her, still stirring. Without a word, Hei arches up, a nip of teeth against her bottom lip as his body presses flush against hers. Welcome back. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (Then again, five years ago, that was how he felt about teammates too). ]
[ Humming, he rocks up against her, full length, skin to skin. Lets her feel his erection prodding her cool belly, as his fingers splay over her ribcage, drumming out a xylophonist's cadence, before roaming up to her breasts. He cups them, rubbing the pebbly nipples. Traces her lips with his, dipping a tongue into her mouth. Light kisses between hints of teeth, like blades in whipped cream. Her hair -- still a little damp from the shower -- falls down around them, tickling the sides of his face, bare slivers of the room visible through it. ]
[ He wants so badly to move from contiguous to connected. It's as if he hasn't been touched in weeks, or months -- the patient languid kisses stir him up, sending his mind racing ahead, past the sex, to the climax, the one-minute afterglow he might be willing to permit, straight on to the next cruel thing he'll inevitably say that'll erase this sweetness. ]
[ Don't let it happen. ]
[ Eventually, he abandons her breasts to put her hair back from her face, caress her cheeks. With one hand, he strokes the soft skin of her neck, the jut of her shoulderblades and the arch of her spine, all the way down to the dimples flanking her lower-back. The other rubs a thumb back and forth along the crease of her right thigh, just below her buttocks. He curls it forward, fingers stroking over her moist seam from the back forward, before slipping inside. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
She gasps as his fingers slide into her, breaking away to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder. In the same breath, she pushes back against him, sinking his fingers deeper inside her. Her nails dig into his waist and she whimpers softly.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ Hei inhales sharply as she breaks the kiss, half to breathe, half at the sting of her nails. His erection feels taut and stretched under her -- reactive to the sound of her voice alone. He wraps an arm around her waist as his fingers tease her from behind, so she can't wiggle away. Inches his palm forward a bit more, carefully penetrating that damp tangle of hair. Loving how that slickness feels, gathering along his fingers as he crooks them. ]
[ He doesn't build a rhythm straight off. Just lets the digits travel where they want, stirring inside her, the ghosts of circles and the barest hints of pressure. His lips trace through her hair to nibble on her ear; his sighs aren't shaky but they're a near thing, sucking on the earlobe as his breath ghosts the shell. ]
[ The pace he finally sets is tortuous. Two fingers slipping into her, then three, the pads circling rough. Searching through heat and slick for the spot that will collapse her. Moving faster to coax more sounds from her, offering others in reply -- wet noises as he presses his hand as far forward as it'll go, until the web of his thumb wedges tightly against her clit. He wants to push beyond her passive surface, to those easy peaks that come sharp and quick. ]
[ Get her on the other side of wet and ready before he finally slides into her. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (Certainly, she's no Chinese finger-trap like Amber. Knowing what got her off was a constant mystery -- a trick that worked one night could be a failure the next.) ]
[ He watches her with dark eyes and a quiet focus. He's rubbing the remembered spots inside her, but it's clearly not enough. He wants to ask her what she needs -- Less fingers? More stimulation? Faster? Slower? She's full of a pooling warmth -- fuck he can practically feel it -- but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Which isn't too far off from how Hei feels. ]
[ Before she ends up slipping deeper from fever to frustration, he changes tactics. Slipping his wet fingers free, he rolls her onto her back, making himself heavy between her thighs. Slides his hands under her torso until his fingers are curled around her shoulders and her breasts are crushed against his chest, the sudden ferocity of his kisses to her mouth almost frightening. His erection rides against her wet curly mons, and for a dizzying moment he nearly loses himself inside her. ]
[ Instead he breaks on a sharp inhale, barely shaking. Rubs his erection against the wet seam of her; pressing with his hips so that the thick vein and spreading head stroke along her clit, tight against the root. He'll always face any challenge head on: he doesn't know how else to survive. And right now there's nothing to deflect his focus: no time constraints, no adrenaline crash from a narrow escape, no paranoia that his location will be compromised, no fresh wounds. ]
[ He can allow Korra -- and himself -- the novelty of patience. ] How do you want this? [ What do you want? ]
Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening
His question is met with a blank look. She's too tired, too aroused (and too inexperienced) to understand what he means.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ Maybe another time he wouldn't care about what she wants. Maybe he'd just take what he wants, as he's accustomed to doing. It'd be different if this was an assignment; if Korra was a mark. It's easy for him to detach then. In those moments, he can appear to be in the zone, then go from a heated exchange to scratching his hair and casually answering his cellphone, all in one breath. Lust becomes a phantom. Self-control is effortless. ]
[ It takes a lot to put him in an uncivilized zone -- but this feels like an inexorable fall toward it. (And oh, how unnerving that is). ]
[ He reads Korra's blank look for what it is. There's something indulgent in the pitch of his half-smile. ] How. Do you. Want this? Do you want to fuck [ pronouncing it so the F is soft as bloodroot, the K quiet like a click of a trigger ] Or [ he kisses her again, a kiss that only lasts a moment, but there's such a crackle in it, a slow slip of tongue, that it can never pass as innocent ] do you want my mouth for something better than talking?
⊕ march 15th, late evening
She leans up to kiss him again, because kissing is easy, and grinds her hips against him. He can read whatever answer in that he wants.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (At the same time, he knows that's not her fault. But a tiny corner of his psyche admits he misses that brashness, that life, he's come to associate with her). ]
[ She kisses him, and there's a hot shiver, running down his spine and making his back dip and his hips cant. The way she rocks underneath him brings out a half-groan, breaking the kiss so he can breathe it out, quiet and strained. Suddenly he's too needy to be held off anymore. One-handed, he fumbles through the mess in his drawer -- I should clean it out -- and finds a condom. His fingers are a little shaky and it takes two tries to tear the plastic open. Finally he unrolls the cold thing and smoothes it over himself. It heats up remarkably fast. ]
[ He leans forward, supporting himself on one hand, and, guides himself into her with the other. Even with the condom, the slick tightness of her pulls his skin taut. Heat. Sweet, sweet heat. All of a sudden there is no air in the room. He hisses under his breath, searching inside for control, for some trick of breathing that will help him take it slow. Rocks again, grazes the edges, and sinks in deeper. Comes almost halfway out, and slides in completely. ]
[ God. God, fuck. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
It doesn't work. It's not a magic wand that can magically banish all her problems (physical, mental, emotional) and make everything better. But it still feels good, stretching her, massaging her. And she really likes the noises he makes as he rocks against her. There's a faint sense of satisfaction at his pleasure. That's because of me.
(Not that she's doing much except hanging on. Maybe he'd feel this way regardless of who he's with. But right now she'll take every scrap of good feeling she can get her hands on.)]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (Although as with anything, substitutions and surrogates are always there for the asking.) ]
[ The low noise that escapes Hei, between a groan and a sigh, encompasses every kind of blissed-out tension. Slotting his hips against hers, he slips his arms under her shoulders, trapping her head in both hands. Covers her lips in a kiss like a freefall -- his tongue chasing every corner of her mouth as if to find the key for perfect control. He's so turned on, he can finish in a few minutes of hard fast fucking. But he wants to draw this out, take his time with her. ]
[ Eventually his hands slide down to fit across her hips, then lower. Splaying over the curve of her backside and squeezing it greedily, before pressing her closer to him. His breathing comes heavy, all sharp exhales and low strips of noise as he rocks against her, slow and teasing, filling her up. A languid rhythm, that stops sometimes all together, letting her experience the weight of him, the pressure of his pelvic bone against her clit, all the while trying to cool the recurrent greed fizzling up and down his spine. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
It's soothing. Not a word she's ever associated with sex, or one that she would have thought desirable, but it's exactly what she needs right now. She can feel the heat building up where his pelvis teases hers, cresting towards completion. Not as high as she usually climbs; it won't be as powerful as she usually falls. Still, she has no complaints.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ (Another time, this is where he would've fought -- narrowed out that scintilla of feeling under his skin and extinguished it like a virus, worn the scars as reminders of something deadly and unsafe that was caught before it could spread.) ]
[ Instead he covers her, flows like water with her, his damp hair swaying across their faces in time to the rolling movements of his body. Her nails prickle goosebumps across his skin; there's a catch in his rough groan, a restraint. Even now he keeps a measure of control. Threading the fingers of one hand in her hair, he tips her head to seek her mouth. The kisses he gives her are slow and trancey, yet somehow as satisfying as the languid atmosphere between their bodies, almost nothing at all, but with undercurrents of promise. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
[ The electric radiator makes the room hotter and hotter. Her hair gives off a heady scent of downpour that's half moisture, half shampoo, and half Korra. He breathes her in, deep inhales and exhales and the occasional skip in that pattern, a groan or a hum or a hitched sigh, like an overplayed 45. Eventually, one hand still around her lower-back to keep her close and leveraged, he slips the other between them. Pads of fingers slipping in circles, slickly massaging her clit. Lips butterflying in kisses -- urging her to that slow hot climb. ]
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening
⊕ march 15th, late evening