fuse_box | pushing it

Entry tags:

universe: after the city

pushing it

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.]

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[ Boring? That's the last word he'd use for her. She's more than just her mobility. She's more than the Avatar or some dreadfully mundane pronoun like Girlfriend or Lover. She's Korra. Her moods come and go in layers of gloomy spells and whirling tantrums and bad hair days and ghostly evenings when she won't eat or talk or sleep. But the essence of her is always buried underneath, a dark chewy center of heat and life. Even at her most despondent, she always gives off a fierce energy that is hot. ]

[ It has nothing to do with the temperature of her surroundings. It is her temperament. A temperament that is endlessly fascinating to someone like Hei. ]

[ He doesn't tell her that. But, wanting to unshackle her from her doubts by simpler sensation, he leans over and kisses her mouth. Draws back and smoothes the fine spray of dark hairs along one tense brow, before getting busy with her clothes. He peels them off carefully: first blouse, then pants, then underwear, before tugging off her hairpieces. Shucks off his own garments, his cock already moist-tipped and aching as the weight of stymied need drops down heavily to his balls. ]

[ Reaching out, he delves into the nightstand. Comes up with a small bottle, almost palm-sized. Hemp oil. He turns the top and pours some into his rough palms. It smells very faintly of fresh-turned earth and grass. After a moment, he pauses, and a faint smile quirks his mouth. ]

Don't fall asleep if I do this.

[She can take her clothes off just fine by herself, thanks, but she's in an indulgent enough mood that she lets him strip her like those early days when she couldn't do anything for herself. Without the haze of grief and resentment, it's easier to see and to accept their silent message: I care.]

Afraid you won't be able to wake me up again? [She nudges him teasingly. She certainly wouldn't mind falling asleep and waking up to his hands on her.]

Maybe.

[ His gaze skates across her body with a lewd, sly fondness. The rest of his face reveals very little, but anyone with a vantage into his inward workings might feel along with him a tightening pull in the gut, a crackling sensation of raw energy, the kind that makes the throat cramp and skin prickle. It's so tempting to forget the preliminaries, to nudge between her thighs and work her over with his tongue, until she's slick and flushed and ready for him to sink into her. ]

[ But some things it's better to take your time with. He's trying different methods with Korra, lately, as if each instance is a sequence in a Rubix cube, little twists and turns until he finds the perfect mechanism to align with both their needs. ]

[ Gently, he lifts her right ankle, so small and warm in his hands, and rubs the oil onto her foot. Then, pouring another dose in his palms, he works it into her calf. Gliding up her leg to the top of her thigh, stopping just where the patch of curls framing her sex begins, then pouring out more and starting down her other leg, working it into her thigh, her knee, her ankle, pressing it along the arch of her foot with his thumb. He can feel where the muscles have melted slightly under the soft skin; the absence of toned strands lapping each other like tight-woven wicker. ]

[ It fills him with a sense of quiet despair. But he shakes it off, dipping his head to press a cool kiss below her left nipple. A gentle bite on her right nipple. Another bite on the underside of her breast, even as his hands continue working her legs, soft pressure circles with the thumbs and slow whorling strokes from hipbone to ankle with the heel of both palms. ]

Edited 2014-09-30 18:01 (UTC)

[Korra leans back and closes her eyes, the better to appreciate his hands. He's systematic, but the darkness still lends his every action an element of surprise that she likes. Her breathing gets a little heavy as he works his way up. She hadn't realized just how tense the muscles in her leg were from her exertions today; the release of it feels almost as good as sex itself. She can feel herself getting wet, but she keeps herself under control, no squirming or whimpering or needy rocking, even if the rest of her body is begging for the attention he's lavishing on her legs.

The sudden feeling of his mouth on her breasts makes Korra yelp and clutch the sheets. She wants to latch onto him; want to grab his hair and direct his attention to every needy place on her body. But she's also a little nostalgic for the way he used to tease her. He'd bring her to the peak then stop, bring her to the peak and stop, driving her half-mad with the thwarted orgasms. And when he did finally let her come...well, she was still surprised that she could walk after that, much less come again while he penetrated her. She whimpers again as she remembers how he feels inside her, and her mind runs through all the various ways and places he's taken her. She wants him to hurry...she wants him to go slowly and torture her...]

[ Slow. He definitely wants to take this slow. Wants her breaths to unravel in that remembered way, jittery and aching, her soft cries playing him like an angel strokes a harp, all smooth glissandos and hot pressurized thrums, eroding his concentration in a way so wickedly sweet that every doubt and bitterness in his gray, shadowed life is briefly swept away on a wave's crest of pure perfect focus. ]

[ She yelps, and his lips twitch against her skin -- a secret not-quite smile. With one hand he makes slow even passes -- stroking in circular motions down her right leg, concentrating on where her muscles feel less like cords than frayed balls of twine under the skin. Meanwhile, he rests the other hand on her mons, his palm against the soft thicket of pubic hair. Just the softest edge of pressure radiating to her clit -- before he slips one finger down and presses against her labia. She's wet. He can feel how wet she is. ]

[ Want pulses through every inch of him. His cock is prodding at his belly like a clock hand. Highnoon; midnight; everything in between. He ignores it, head dipped to work hungrily at her breasts. Tongue swirling across one nipple, then the other, exposing them to the hot wet pressure of his mouth, then the cool air, as he alternates between them over and over, teasing them to hard springy points. ]

[She pretends this is one of the games they'd sometimes play, the rules more often than not unspoken — a challenge to see how long she can maintain her control during his onslaught. She may not be able to manhandle him or flip the tables like she used to, but she can still fight to keep from losing herself completely to pleasure. (The loss then being all the sweeter)

Of course he's not going to make it easy on her. She takes a deep breath and digs her nails into the mattress to keep from grinding against his hand, or demanding that his finger go farther. Her breathes grow ragged with every brush of his tongue; a thrill that's almost painful runs through her every time his hot mouth abandons her skin to the cool air.

Still, while it may not be easy, this is hardly his greatest effort. He'll have to work a little harder before she'll concede defeat.]

[ This isn't effort. He's barely gotten started. ]

[ He lays his lips across the humid space between her breasts, hearing the escalation of her soft, hitched gasps. Smiles lazily, and lets his poised touch proceed further -- a soft kiss on her sternum. Tongue dipping into the little bowl that sits at her collarbones. Three kisses up her throat, lapping at the arc in wet sweeps. Her skin is so soft; he can feel the vein pulsing beneath the delicate curtain of flesh. In his past life, this is the spot he'd mark with a silent X. A dotted line for his blade to sink in as if into hot butter. ]

[ Here, he simply gnaws the skin, right at the sweet-spot that seems connected by a live-wire right to her groin. The pressure on her mons grows heavier. His finger teases apart her lips and presses against her slick little entrance. It slides up the cleft, parting the lips all the way, then brushes lightly -- so lightly -- against her clit. He teases it with soft flicks, once, twice, again, before letting her labia softly fall back together, touching. His hand is gone -- a loss of stimulation to that sensitive part even as he devotes the attention of both palms to long, downward sweeps from both her thighs to the ticklish soles of her feet. Working the pads of each toe with rolling strokes, the methodical care disguising a hint of playfulness. ]

[What was that she said about missing his teasing? Korra lets out a noise of indignant protest as he relocates his hands to her feet. Her feet aren't what need his attention! Her feet have — oooh. Okay. That was one muscle she didn't even realize she had, much less than it was knotted, until he rubbed his loose. It pulls a moan from deep inside her. Still, her legs clench tightly together, trying to provide the missing stimulation.]

[ She moans, her thighs squeezing tight together, and he smiles at those soft urgent signs of life. He's learnt quickly that she manages her pleasure with her legs, releases it with her cries. So he takes even those small measures of control away from her, lifting both her legs by her shins, holding them a foot apart. He kneads the skin slowly, a languid effleurage across the ankle, thumbs circling across the jut of bone. Rubbing the instep, a careful pressure as he leans in, his body a taut arch over hers. He swoops in for a kiss, slow and sloppy, uninhibited, a greedy rhythm of his tongue fucking into her mouth, a non-sequitur of raunch amid the methodical, almost clinical care he's applying to her feet. ]

[ He plans to take this at a sedately random pace. It takes time for the wind to work every dried leaf from an autumn tree. There may be a first deluge of release, but it's a slow stripping after that initial rush, a matter of worrying each scrap free. Because nature's airy fingers are endlessly patient; its attacks are persistent to the last, spontaneous yet thorough. ]

Mmmph! [Screw control. Korra tries to knee him, then picks up her hands to whack him until he lets her have some kind of relief. Except instead of whacking him, she grabs onto his hair and pulls him even closer. It's torture, but there's a reason she's missed it so much.]

[ He's forgotten how rewarding it is, that frantic mindless way she scrabbles under him, her arms like a bow tied tight to hold him in place, her mouth hot and sweet and questing on his. The sensation wakes a slow itching bloom of fire under his skin: a heat that makes him at once ravenous and sluggish. He can feel that hard upward arrowing of flesh between his legs, a throbbing heaviness in his groin. ]

[ It would be tempting to abandon the games. To just sink into the welcoming warmth of her. Instead, on a sharp inhale, he draws back. Hovers over her for a moment, the pupils of his half-lidded eyes dilated and everything else about him sparking to life; he breathes heavily through his nostrils and the sharp lines of his cheekbone are pinked by heat. Unraveled, with a rawness that seeps past his usual reserve. ]

[ Carefully, he finishes massaging her feet, and places them back on the mattress. Slides up the bed, to the middle of her. He shakes drops of oil onto her belly, then presses it in with his hands, rubbing in tight small circles, stopping just beneath her breasts, his thumbs grazing the sensitive undersides. Careful pressure and calculated friction, almost businesslike -- except he's nestled his torso between her legs as he does it, his weight solid against the damp cluster of hair at her mons. ]

[She looks at him then, the setting sun casting him in an orange glow, almost like he really is a fire. And she's reminded again why she first started to fall in love with him. His lean strength; the power he clearly works hard to maintain, because nobody's born with those kinds of muscles. His intensity. Perhaps most importantly, the feeling that there was so much she could learn from him.

And she has — about sex and her body. About suffering. Appreciating complexity. Forgiveness. Some lessons deeply satisfying, even thrilling, and other lessons she sometimes thinks she could have done without. Yet right now, she wouldn't change any of it.

She arches into his touch, her arms stretching up both for the delicious sensation of stretching and to pull up her breasts, displaying them like an offering to his roaming hands. She grinds her pelvis against his chest and makes faint noises of aroused relief, like steam coming out of a teapot.]

[ If given a chance, Hei knows there is plenty he'd change. Not just the blood-soaked layers of violence and trauma and tragedy that have piled between them, but that steely underpinning of love that ties it all together -- because he knows it is not a decent or comfortable love. Not orderly, morally applauded love. Or even excitingly transgressive love. It’s an emotion that reminds him what it's like to be a killer -- how utterly and ruthlessly anti-social it can be. The way it either drags you to hell or swoops you up to heaven, then plonks you down in that place with no name, hanging by the very thin line of the human capacity to conceive of consequences and a tomorrow. ]

[ It is the vertiginous place where people demolish each other, and remake each other again. But not the same. ]

[ For Hei, who's smashed himself to pieces in a million different ways, reinventing himself into shapes less than human and more than monstrous, it's a terrifying thing. How many new and unfamiliar fragments can an emotion grind you down to? ]

[ She arches like a cat, and his dark gaze flies across her, taking inventory of the tousled hair, the blue eyes, the lush invitation of her body. His palms itch and his breath comes in a jittery rush. But he stays focused. Succumbing now would be too easy. ]

[ Quietly, he drips more oil into one hand and works above her breasts, rubbing it into her sternum, her neck, the hemp scent pervasive now, rich like gardens. He doesn't touch her breasts, though the rhythm of her breathing lifts them so perfectly toward his hands. Instead he slips the tangles of hair off her shoulder and works his palms across from one to the other, pressing hard, his fingers skimming her throat, dipping and lingering to the top of her cleavage, but never sliding to the swell just beneath. He eases his weight off her as he works, a loss of pressure against her pelvis, a teasing denial in the name of meticulous attention to extraneous details. ]

Hei...! [Half-protest, half-pleading sigh. Her hips buck up as they try in vain to recapture the delightful friction he so abruptly snatched away. She squirms, trying to get his hands on her breasts, but he expertly keeps his hands away from where they're wanted most.

Time to play dirty.

Korra arches again, using her arms to lift her even higher and increase the odds of success. But that's just a cover for her ultimate agenda. As soon as their bodies get positioned correctly, she darts out a hand and takes a firm hold of his erection.]

[ He watches her roll and surge beneath him with movements not unlike those of a stormy wave. And that's the charm, with Korra isn't it? The unpredictability. You can never be entirely sure what she will do or say next. Sometimes that constant uncertainty is thrilling, like watching the roulette wheel spin and wondering if his number will come up. Other times it feels more like being caught in a tempest and waiting for either the drowning plunge or the freak lightning strike. ]

[ Case in point. ]

[ Her hand closes on his cock's jutting heft, and Hei sucks a hissing grunt between his teeth. His hips jerk, small suppressed pushes, before he drops one oil-slicked palm down to cover hers. He doesn't drag it away. Just shows her how to tease the underlying vein in slow, circular strokes, before rubbing her thumb cruelly across the weeping slit. At the same time he drops his head, the heavy bramble of his hair dragging ticklishly across her breasts, before he gulps one nipple into his mouth, rolling it first gently then almost viciously between hard teeth and wet flicks of tongue. Less a ploy to distract her, more a dirtysweet self-indulgence -- giving himself a taste before the inevitable withdrawal. ]

Edited (lookit that typo wow) 2014-10-03 21:03 (UTC)

[Like she doesn't already know how to tease him. Please. How many years have they been fucking? She'd make some snarky joke about how he's using her hand to jerk himself off, if he hadn't started doing that thing to her breasts. She gasps and reflexively clenches her hand around him in a grip that would be a turn-off to anyone who isn't Hei. Her free hand tangles in his hair and pulls him closer, giving him no room to pull away. Between gasps for air she murmurs nonsense words to express her enjoyment.]

[ Her fist clamps around him, and Hei lets off a low, ragged noise of approval. His hips stutter, cock pulsing, ripe and heavy with blood; every desire of his body concentrates in that crux. Yet the sounds Korra makes excite him much more, breaking hotly in the wells of his ears as if tunneling up from inside him, through his own aching flesh. He feels a flicker of that bright, specific need which overwhelms him when it comes to Korra. To put her on the rack of tension and strike every possible nuance of music from her body, until she's singing for him. ]

[ Roughly, he cups her breasts in his slicked hands, so both her nipples are at his mouth. Squeezes them roughly, as he worries the aureoles with his teeth, before sucking at them until they're as small and dark and shiny as new pennies. It's more aggressive than he's been these past few weeks: he knows her breasts will be sore when she puts her blouse back on later. But if she doesn't like it, she can always shove him off. ]

[ Until then, he's going to do as he pleases, mouth sloppily busy and both hands sliding givingly along each curve, kneading, pinching, then breaking apart and splitting their intentions, so that one remains stitching at her nipples while the other dips between her thighs, thumbing her clit between the tangle of hair before he slips his index finger between the wet lips. ]

[That aggression is the best thing she's felt in weeks. She's tired of feeling like someone fragile and delicate. Be fierce; maul her, and she'll come back swinging.

And if he thinks one finger is going to be enough for her, he is sorely mistaken. He's done plenty of precision hits on her sweet spots these past few weeks in bed; tonight she wants it rough.]

Come on. [Hold a moment while she chokes on a scream — that last bite to her nipple almost made her come. She gasps for air and grasps for sass.] You can do better than that.

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.) ]

[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!]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

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