[ Fucking a girl under the same roof as her ex-boyfriend is awkward. For the average person, anyway. But as far as tallies go, this isn't even on the scoresheet for Hei. When your messier code is BK201, when you navigate through life in terms of expedience and self-benefit, snatching any fragment of relief where it's available to you, you don't care about niceties like morality or decency or giving a toss about the other guy's feelings. You want. You take. It's simple as that. ]
[ Not that anything abut this mess with Korra is simple. ]
[ Buried in her balls-deep, canted in liquid heat and pulse, Hei just barely keeps it together as she crests under him -- messily, gorgeously. Her scream is skin-crawling, her body flexing all around him, hands clutching at his hair, her sex a wild fluttering that feeds a gallop of urgency in his own hips, sensations building, fragmenting, then crashing. He comes like stars fall -- a shocking flare in the darkness, a vertiginous plunge, a swish of stardust glittering in its awake, hypnotic and so-fleeting. ]
[ Panting, he sags against her. Thinks bitterly that it should be simple -- sex. Because it is, at least the mechanics. If all people ever had to experience were the technicalities of Tab A to Slot B, they'd all be fine. It's the shit that goes along with it. And it only gets worse. ]
[ The thought -- brief and several degrees too mundane to be classified as a satori -- nonetheless distracts him. But not enough to ignore the distant click of the door downstairs, tailed by a shout and thudding footsteps. Great. That Mako kid's home early. Scowling, Hei begins to straighten -- just before the door jerks open, framing the intruder's gawping face. ]
[ Fuck. ]
[ Korra should really install a better lock. And sound-proof her room. ]
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[ Not that anything abut this mess with Korra is simple. ]
[ Buried in her balls-deep, canted in liquid heat and pulse, Hei just barely keeps it together as she crests under him -- messily, gorgeously. Her scream is skin-crawling, her body flexing all around him, hands clutching at his hair, her sex a wild fluttering that feeds a gallop of urgency in his own hips, sensations building, fragmenting, then crashing. He comes like stars fall -- a shocking flare in the darkness, a vertiginous plunge, a swish of stardust glittering in its awake, hypnotic and so-fleeting. ]
[ Panting, he sags against her. Thinks bitterly that it should be simple -- sex. Because it is, at least the mechanics. If all people ever had to experience were the technicalities of Tab A to Slot B, they'd all be fine. It's the shit that goes along with it. And it only gets worse. ]
[ The thought -- brief and several degrees too mundane to be classified as a satori -- nonetheless distracts him. But not enough to ignore the distant click of the door downstairs, tailed by a shout and thudding footsteps. Great. That Mako kid's home early. Scowling, Hei begins to straighten -- just before the door jerks open, framing the intruder's gawping face. ]
[ Fuck. ]
[ Korra should really install a better lock. And sound-proof her room. ]