pushing it

[anatural]

WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Korra’s getting restless.

[Korra sits on the ground of Hei's toolshed and tells herself that she should seriously work on that patience thing.

She's alone in the house. Her health has been improving enough that she doesn't need a constant babysitter, so when Asami called to say that she had a last minute meeting at Future Industries, Korra told her it was fine and not to worry about it. She can stand up to reach food in the cabinet. She can walk the distance from the bathroom door to the toilet. She can even (as she knows from testing earlier today) walk around the entire house.

The distance from the house to Hei's toolshed? Not so much. It had seemed like such a great idea, practicing walking while getting the tools to fix the wheelchair ramp. She's been itching for something to do, something physical, something that matters even just a little. But by the time she reached the toolshed, her strength was exhausted, and she had to use the last of it for a controlled fall.

So she sits and meditates on the virtues of patience. After some rest, she tries to earthbend herself back onto her feet. When that results in nothing more than a bruised bum and sore ribs, she tries meditating on the virtues of patience some more.

And really hopes Hei gets home soon. She really doesn't want to have Naga carry her back to the front porch like a cub.]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

I can.

[ Humming, he sinks his teeth into both pebbly nipples, drawing on them hard before letting them pop free. Works his finger slickly in and out of her sex, crooking it against the good spot -- before letting it slip out. Bringing it to his mouth, all shiny and musked, he sucks on it with a lewd slowness. All the time that's flown by, yet the taste of her, tart and pungent and so luscious, still makes him throb. ]

[ But tonight isn't about succumbing so easily. He needs to remind himself that, to stay on the straight and narrow. ]

[ He draws back, a low teasing purl escaping his usually measured tone. ]

But so can you.

[ Because this is hardly the snapping point of her patience. Not by a long shot. ]

[ With a businesslike air, he leans forward, pouring more oil onto his hands. Starting on her right arm, skating up from her shoulder, slowly, working the sleek knot of her biceps, her forearm, and up toward her wrist. He does the same with her left arm -- oiling the skin, climbing in reverse, up the pulse point of her wrist, her forearm, the bicep, pressing oil into the dip between torso and arm, along her armpit, with his thumb. ]

[ It's almost as if he's forgotten what they were doing earlier. (He hasn't -- but it's so much sweeter to make them both wait.) ]

[anatural]

[As hot as that is, Hei should probably think a little more about his phrasing. Korra gives him an indignant pout.]

Hey, you try giving a decent handjob in this position! [It's kind of hard to keep a good grip on his cock when he's repositioning himself to touch her. Still, she's all set to rise to the challenge...

And then he starts massaging her arms. As though he doesn't have a massive erection bobbing against his belly and she doesn't have an aching clit & sore breasts.]

Are you serious? [They were on a roll! A violent, fierce, fucking hot roll!]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He starts to tell her, That's not what I meant. But he's tickled by her pouty-lipped indignation. He doesn't answer her, but his gaze is amused, pleased -- if he were anyone else, it would almost be called content. As if he hasn't aborted that hormonal storm that was raging so wildly and well between them. As if his whole body isn't stirring crazily to life by the bright currents that seem to pass with every touch on Korra's skin. Instead he has the comfortable look of a man in his element; but then, Hei often has that look, even in the midst of hostile threats or roaring gunfire. For someone who subsists on the edge of the blade, who thrives in shark-infested waters, this is just another waiting game. ]

[ Except the pay-off promises to be more rewarding than a simple signed cheque. ]

[ With the pads of his fingers, he gently works the knots loose across her arms. Drifting in slow sweeps from her wrists down to the palms, stroking the centers with his thumb. Lightly, he knits their fingers together, bringing her arms down her body. He pins them against her widespread knees, a light restraint as he slides down to plant a cool kiss on one hipbone, then the other. He blows gently on her wet sex. Watches the clit twitch, but doesn't touch her. Just nibbles on the tender insides of her thighs, licking the creases of leg and groin, biting that faint pillow-weight at her belly, as if he has no goal in mind at all, except to see which part is the softest. ]

[anatural]

[He really is the most maddening person in all of the world. She'd punish him for toying with her like this, except her arms really could use the massage. So she just lies back and endures it. (As though that's some kind of hardship.) She lets him work her arms and her arousal fade into simple pleasure. Simple, sleepy pleasure. There may be a frustrated lump of thwarted desire between her legs, but the rest of her limbs are so loose and the bed so comfortable that she does actually start to doze off. (Probably doesn't help that she hasn't eaten in awhile, so her energy reserves are running low.) He squeezes her hands and she squeezes back with a contented sigh, only dimly aware of him bringing her hands down, pushing her legs apart, kissing her hipbones —

She yelps and jerks at the air blowing across her hyper-sensitive clit.] Hei-! [All of the desire that had faded into the background comes surging back with the force of a hard punch, and if she could get a decent angle, she would kick him.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei's breath ruffles the dewy curls between her thighs, hot and cold at once. His dark gaze, meeting Korra's across the slope of her body, expresses a quiet mix of both fondness and amusement as she jerks and yelps beneath him. Hooking her knees in his hands, he spreads her wider open, teasing not the tantalizing pink frill of her sex, but her inner-thighs -- a series of languid nips. He'll never tell her how much he's come to enjoy this part, the part where his impending orgasm and even his arousal become irrelevant, subsumed by a gluttony of focus ... the indolent, indulgent pleasure of playing Korra like a pretty instrument, even as her restless cries and movements raise a strange sympathetic ache in his own limbs. ]

[ It's a long time before Korra will feel something slick and hard between her labia: the point of his tongue. He lets it sweep up, circle her clit, then pull away. Repeats it over and over, patternless, playful, his grip tight on her thighs so she can't raise her hips to try and follow his mouth, to maintain contact. ]

[anatural]

[Not fair. Noooot faaaaaaair. She squirms as best as she can, pushing up against his tight grip, trying to get any kind of friction in the places that need it most. She almost sobs in relief when his tongue finally slips inside — even that teasing, torturous contact is better than nothing. With her hands still trapped, she can't slam her fists down to release some of the pressure building up inside, so she settles for twisting her head back and forth.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Head bent, hands pinning Korra's wrists across her thighs, Hei nuzzles and laps and sucks with a languid precision, never giving her more than is necessary. He loves the way she tosses her pretty head across the pillows, as if caught in a fever; a giddying furl of triumph lifts through his chest, before his own weight of desperation crashes over him. ]

[ It's like being caught in an explosive fight on a hot night in July, sweat at his hairline and between the slick palms gripping his blades, watching the glinting quicksilver slice through the air and sink into his target with a bloody squelch. It's always excited him: speed, power, dexterity. He likes separating orange segments, too. And no, that doesn't make him horny, come on, but it's the same concept. The intricacy that his body knows how to design, the ownership of a space -- molecules of displaced air as his target tumbles, little fragrant tunnels between juicy segments of fruit. ]

[ Altering the shape of a thing. Methodical destruction.]

[ Humming, he delves deeper with his tongue -- wet savoring sweeps, up from the little pucker of her ass and along the delicate inner-lips of her sex, before flattening across the taut clit itself, a gentle, ruthless nudging. But he doesn't let her tip over; everytime he feels her breathing get ragged, her muscles tense, he slows down, as if determined to keep her teetering right at the edge. ]

[anatural]

[He can stop her hips from bucking up, but in this position, he can't stop her from pulling herself up (just like doing a crunch!) and snarling in his ear.]

Quit being a tease and fuck me already.

[mortemscintilla]

[ A shadow of a smiled edges at Hei's mouth. It's always a novelty, hearing Korra say 'fuck'. She always does it petulantly, and it never fails to fascinate him, like watching someone insist on eating their hot dog with a knife and fork. ]

[ He drags his tongue across her slit, almost idly, before lifting his head to kiss her -- a messy, tender play of teeth and lips. Drawing back, he considers her for a limitless moment -- his expression hazy, warm -- before he says, ]

No.

[ Then his head ducks back between her legs. Letting her wrists go, he prods one oiled finger against the crinkle of her ass. Lets it tense, then flex, before he slips the digit in, just as he jabs his tongue into her sex, opening her with thick slurping stabs. Thumbing her clit with the other hand, he resumes his play: rhythms that come and go, the lappings, the flicks, the thrusts, all of them swinging around one another's orbits like the parts of some complex kinetic device, like a machine whose elements always seem about to collide but never quite do, and yet something is being accomplished. There's a point he wants her to start nearing. ]

[anatural]

[Korra all but screams in frustration, though at least now she has her hands free to grab his hair and cling on for dear life because he's just doublestuffed her and it feels amazing. Frustrating, maddening, like her body would explode if he'd just fucking let it amazing. Every time he slows down, pulls back, she lets out a wail of frustration — she needs more, not less! Please clue her in as to what point she's supposed to reach because right now she's ready to break his neck if that's what it takes to flip him over and ride his cock until she finally comes.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Maybe that's the point he wants her to reach? On her last nerve, hanging by the final fraying thread of patience -- right before she crumbles under the weight of the sensations he's determined to overload her body with. ]

[ He ignores her wild cries and clawing. Stays bent to her open sex, licking her clit, first with the flat of his tongue, and then, cruelly, with the hard tip -- before drawing it with a slick pop between his lips, suckling it like a tender nipple. Slipping all four fingers into her -- two in her sex, two in her ass -- he jerks them wetly, methodically in and out in time to the relentless suctioning at her clit. This close, her scent fills his head, hot and musky and sweet. His mind swims, the heat under his skin densely, tropically humid and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold his load in. His cock is chafed against the sheets, a damp spot spreading below the head. ]

[ He wants to keep going, but her vocalizations, the way she struggles under him -- so raw and frantic and delicious -- it's too much. He's unable to tease either of them any more. With a selfish abruptness, his throat tight around a low groan, he drags his wet mouth away. She's probably going to maul him like a wildcat, but it doesn't matter. The shrill scrape of impatience across his nerves is just as bad -- nails on a chalkboard. He detaches only long enough to find a condom, wishing he could just do without -- but he isn't stupid enough to forget the imperatives of latex. ]

[ He is on her quickly, rough palms sliding down her ass and thighs. Squeezing hard, dragging her close, so he's blanketing her, her knees hooked around his hips. Catching her wrist, he drags her hand up first to his mouth, where he sucks the fingers, and the palm, a wet licking slurp as if to her sex. Then he drops her hand down between their bellies. Letting her control that last step, as if, even through the haze of want, he's wary of getting too forceful. ]

[anatural]

ARE YOU SERIOUS?! [She claws his skin, trying to hold him in place because she’s so fucking close how dare he stop, but it results in nothing more than streaks of red across his skin. Not blood — more's the pity. It takes a lifetime for him to get the condom on and then what, he's grabbing her hand? Making her keep waiting just because he can? She's tempted to yank on his dick and make it hurt as punishment, except she's already guiding it inside with a gasping sob of relief.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei welcomes the burning skid of her nails. The short shocks of pain jar loose his cramped limbs, wrenching his attention away from the percolating energy buzzing at his groin. As it is, he's past patience: the need to sink in deep, to grind, spilling out in jerky snaps of his hips, little sibilant gasps. But he stills as she lets him sink all the way in, as if to take stock of each sensation: that gorgeous breathy sob she lets off, her sex buttery and fluid as he fills her, his whole body shuddering as the shock of heat and softness washes over him. ]

[ His body flattens hers against the mattress, his weight half supported by the rigid column of his left arm, the palm cradling the back of her head, tipping her head back. When he kisses her, it's slow, breathless, his tongue coaxing her lips open, and it's a marvel that he can pause during such a hazy-heated moment to concentrate on her mouth. Meanwhile his right hand scoops under her bottom, tilting her hips up as he starts a heavy rolling rhythm, letting his pelvis transmit a delicious pressure against her clit. ]

[anatural]

[He's always been like that — switching from frantic to slow at the strangest moments, rarely maintaining any kind of predictable speed. Korra doesn't know if that's drives her bonkers or if it's one of her favorite things about having sex with him. Probably both. She tries to focus on the kiss, calm herself so she's not completely frantic with lust and need. It doesn't work particularly well. Her entire body shudders with relief as he finally sets into a hard, heavy pounding.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Where's the fun in being predictable? Despite his sturdy practical side, Hei thrives in volatility. Especially since he's twigged in that when he lets himself take on the flavors of wildness and license, it seems to stoke Korra's hunger even higher. Usually he prefers to go at his partners with nearly brutal intensity, and demands the same from them. But he's figured out, when he can catch Korra off guard, that she comes harder and more helplessly. Then it is as if she starts to spiral down a long corkscrewing tunnel, nothing to grab onto, nothing to slow down the frustration boiling and gathering momentum inside her. ]

[ Cradling her skull in a tensely-fingered grip, he kisses her hungrily, sloppily, licking into her mouth and biting at her lower-lip, then carving kisses from her jawline to her throat, down across her breasts. He bends his head and takes one nipple between his teeth, sucks deeply, long strong pulls without respite, even as his spine flexes smoothly with his reverberant strokes, hips and waist and shoulders carrying the movement. He's in a perfect zone, pleasure sparking electrically through him -- fierce but not brutal, not yet. ]

[ He can think not of coming but of the ride itself -- what to give her, what to deny her -- before letting them both crumble at long last into a wrung-out heap from the waiting. ]

[anatural]

[Next time — next time she's going to turn the tables, make him go through all of this. (She doesn't have the temperament for it and she knows it, but it's still fun to dream.) She'll tie him down and suck him until his balls are ready to explode, then take a nibbling journey over his body, see if there are any sweet spots she hasn't discovered yet. When it looks like he's starting to go soft, she'll rub him between her legs, let him feel her heat without letting him inside. Then she'll rub against him, let him feel her breasts without being able to touch any of her, and see how much he likes constantly being denied release.

Next time, when she's not an instrument in his hands, playing a filthy, raunchy melody for them alone.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He won't deny a scenario like that would be incredibly hot. Korra can be endearingly unsubtle, explosively short-fused. But Hei knows there's nothing she can't do if she puts her mind to it. And patience is a matter of translating your energies in different shapes as much as it's about rigid control and steely precision. With time and practice, he's sure she can master that as well as any of the four elements. ]

[ He keeps the outstrokes measured, slow -- and makes each thrust as hard and deep as he can. His breath punches out each time, and he abandons the sore points of her breasts to gorge on her mouth with kisses, drawing her greedily closer, hands everywhere, roaming roughly, expressing clearly the gratitude of complete license. Then he's wedging a palm between their damp bodies to play with her clit, fondling it with the pad of his thumb, a soft relentless friction that matches the cadence of his thrusts, of his tongue forcing her mouth open with wet hungry stabs. Because if she's an instrument, then he plans to play out every nuance of sound from her body, until her cries come through loud and exquisitely clear, a wild contralto of penetrating musicality. ]

[anatural]

[Some climaxes are like explosions, earthquakes. Others are like ripples in the water, a gentle unfolding. He rubs her clit, thrusts inside, and it's like being punched with Asami's electric glove except amazing. She clenches around him like a vise, screaming, gasping, almost sobbing. Outside the door, Cat yowls in jealous counterpoint.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Sorry, Cat. You've more or less been tuned out by now. ]

[ Korra comes apart beneath him; her orgasm wild, shuddering, electric-hot -- one distinct quake after another, so Hei can feel her sex clenching over and over around the pounding heft of his cock. The dizzying sensation -- fuck, those wrenched sobs alone -- it's all too much, it challenges his ability to keep control. ]

[ He ends the kiss on a ragged gasp, his mouth wet, clumsy, a line of saliva breaking between them. It's almost embarrassing -- he hasn't kissed that sloppily since he was thirteen -- except it doesn't matter. He's driven off-balance by the bright flickers of pleasure leaping under his skin. But there's an opportunity here, so he takes it. Keeps on fucking her brutally through her orgasm, feeling her body clutch in helpless peristalsis around his. Determined to force her higher, for the crest to fragment, multiply, washing through her over and over -- as if to dissolve any dark thoughts in her mind -- just before his hips go into that final irresistible rhythm. ]

[anatural]

[Objectively speaking, it's pretty gross, and a part of Korra is tempted to wipe the spittle off her chin, except she lack sufficient control over her body. Her climax won't end. She whimpers as his every thrust shatters her into smaller pieces. She's never going to be able to walk again; she hopes at least that he'll have some trouble moving for at least an hour.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's her whimpers as much as the slick friction between their bodies that feeds those shivery-red sparkles across Hei's nerves. She's so wet, so perfect, her sex gulping at his cock like a sucking mouth, and from the juddering spasms of her hips, her stomach, he can feel how she is just coming, and coming, and coming. His pace quickens, body sliding across hers with damp sweat and the heat of exertion, but the entire focus of his person is forking between the reverberating tension of his groin, and inside the buoy of his head, which cannot stay level in the deep water he inhabits and which is sinking in a way that it shouldn't, but as bodies inevitably sink. ]

[ When he crests, it's more like drowning: a strangled cry, the slap of skin on skin like water on rocks, the pounding waves of liquid motion, a ragged and horrible breath, a noise like choking, then like nothing, like a silent dark night. Water lapping and stilling, the way his body does -- deliquiescing across Korra's in a salty-wet, shipwrecked heap. ]

[anatural]

MRAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!!

[Cat's cries have become an unearthly, well-nigh demonic sound. Korra laughs, which makes it a lot harder to catch her breath.]

Let's hope she doesn't pee on the floor.

[She's not going to waste time worrying about it, though. Certainly not when her limbs feel like warm pudding and he's sprawled against her like a heavy blanket. She nuzzles him and almost purrs.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ In a way, he almost appreciates that hideous caterwauling. It drags him out from within the swimming depths of head, allows him to refocus on the present. Korra's laugh, a rarity these days, pulls a tiny smile to the corners of his own lips. Dying sunlight lies across the rumpled covers in pale lilac squares; the room is airlessly damp, too hot to cuddle. Carefully, he unfolds onto his back, arms falling out to the sides, fingers unfurling. Drags a hand through his damp heap of hair, before reaching down to tug off the condom, knotting the end perfunctorily and tossing it in the dustbin. ]

[ When he glances at Korra, there's something quiet, satisfied, in his half-lidded gaze. His touch is lazy as he shifts to curl a wayward tangle of hair behind the pretty whorl of her ear. ]

She will, now that you said that.

[anatural]

[Too hot for cuddling, yes, very true. Any disappointment Korra felt when he pulled away is negated by the delicious rush of cool(er) air on her skin. She stretches a little, enjoying the heavy listlessness in her muscles.]

It's not my fault she's madly in love with you. [A feeling that Korra understands all too well. If she really thought about it, she wouldn't understand why she loves him, or how he's managed to draw such passionate loyalty not only out of her, but others too. Like Yin. The path from hatred and violence and fear to sex and passion to love is tangled, nonsensical, inexplicable. Yet it's not in Korra's nature to overly examine the whys and wherefores of her feelings. This moment is enough. Loving him as she does is enough.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's not in her nature to obsess over the details. But it is in Hei's. Which is why he's glad she'll never have a clue how often he denigrates their mutual suitability in his mind. How often he goes back over their convoluted history, trying to understand how things have warped so completely between them and unable to grasp it. How he's still halfway convinced what she feels for him isn't love, but the symptoms of a tragic pathology, the need to latch on to anything solid while drowning in muck. How his own feelings for her, enormous and illogically transfixing as they are, signify that he's fallen off the edge of sanity. ]

[ Even so, romantically, he can't imagine loving anyone else, the way he does Korra. Only Amber's star, forever removed from time and space, dazzles that brightly for him. But he's not the same person he was then. Doesn't have the capacity for that pure, bright, ferociously stupid emotion that saw no subtext. With Korra, it's something more conflicted, a patchwork of satisfaction and tenderness mixed with bitter self-awareness. It's raw and imperfect and it kills him, yet he can't do without it. He needs the little things he shares with Korra. The implicit security in the faint curls of smiles and the intimacy of each withering glare. The sexual alchemy. The reflection of himself he sees in her eyes. ]

[ Because, when you strip it down to the barest parts, she's the one who's reconciled him to humanity. (At last? Again?) ]

[ Lightly, he rubs the pad of his thumb across the curve of her cheek. His tone is wry, falling somewhere between idle banter and honest affection. ]

Is that why she leaves those [ hairballs ] 'presents' everywhere?