[ Pushy. His expression shutters with quiet amusement -- but otherwise he obeys, spidering out the fingers of his free hand across the cool sheets. (No, he won't say anything about her stink -- because he's has always had a little bit of a thing for Korra's body in a lather. He likes when she spends until the bedsheets are sodden with the heavy hormonal fug of her aroma. Likes when he can tell she's worn one of his shirts, or used his towel, body-scented with her skin and salt. Likes whenever she comes back from her workouts, all glowy and sweaty and bright-eyed, and he can feign indifference like a pro -- while what he really wants is to follow her around with his tongue lolling out and a boner the size of Mt. Fiji.) ]
[ (Blame those fucking pheromones. Or his own sick predilections.) ]
[ Then her mouth envelops the slick cap of his dick -- wet heat on wet heat -- and Hei draws in a hitched breath as the sensation shuts down extraneous thought, a trembling strain threading from his groin to the rest of his arched body. Against his will, the fingers of his free hand tighten in the sheets, fisting them into wrinkled whirlpools as if to channel the instinct to grab her by the hair. ]
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[ (Blame those fucking pheromones. Or his own sick predilections.) ]
[ Then her mouth envelops the slick cap of his dick -- wet heat on wet heat -- and Hei draws in a hitched breath as the sensation shuts down extraneous thought, a trembling strain threading from his groin to the rest of his arched body. Against his will, the fingers of his free hand tighten in the sheets, fisting them into wrinkled whirlpools as if to channel the instinct to grab her by the hair. ]