There must be other hobbies...

[mortemscintilla]

WHO: Korra and Hei
WHAT: Post-Book 4. Two crazy kids take a break.

[ A quickie vacation -- that's how Hei floated it to Korra. Don't ask him where the money came from. Don't ask him to justify it. Just say you’ll come.  ]

[ They'd (half-jokingly, half-wistfully) planned a similar trip years ago, when still tangled in the mess with the Spirit Portals. It had never fallen through. War, its immediacy and aftermath, meant work, after all. The idea of a holiday was a distant fantasy in the overwhelming rumble of their busy lives. Lives full of conflicts and separations, trials and errors, from which frivolous indulgences were silently excluded. ]

[ Still, Hei had thought about it sometimes, in varying moods of sentimentality and cynicism. Time spent with Korra -- so close, so uninterrupted -- could've been either hellish or heavenly. He could imagine either a long dreamlike trip, driving with her tucked against his side, his arm around her, absorbing her pretty prattle in his ear. Or an interminable torment of sulky silences and shrieking fights, with flat tires, bad directions, shitty motels and worse meals to compound their misery. ]

[ In truth, it falls something in between. It's like they're two sugar-charged teenagers on a roadtrip, instead of adults who suffer from night-terrors and creeping stress triggers. Brimming with antsy energy, bickering over radio stations, greedily slurping noodles from the same bowl, but on the cusp of a perpetual uncertainty, as if they're not sure how long this grace-period will last. ]

[ They make it past the Hu Xin provinces before their rented Satomobile goes kaput. The vehicle, built for lowland city driving, struggles in the thinner air of the mountains, excess fuel backing up into the carburetor. No matter. They hitch a tow-ride until they find an auto-shop. Barely have to drop a penny, after the grizzled mechanic realizes it's The Avatar's satomobile. Fan belts, oil top-ups, lube-jobs -- shucks, they are on the house. ]

[ They come down to the Earth Kingdom in an evening train, stealing kisses between the snores of a grouchy old coot with whom they have to share the compartment. Share a hot bath and a slow, breathless fuck in an inn far from the best, but whose discomforts pale beside Hei's precarious contentment at being here with Korra. In the morning sunshine, they sail for the Mo Ce Sea, a crossing placid as a paddle round a pond -- until he's hit with a horrible sea-sickness. Slumped in their dim little cabin. it is hard to distinguish land from water. The floor seems to dip and roll beneath his feet. The slats of sunlight from the portholes make his head ache. Waiting to reach land, Hei curls up under the sheets of their bed, massaging his temples with both hands, gritting his teeth as he tries to master his heaving stomach -- while not-so-stoically ignoring the twinkle of amusement in Korra's eyes. ]

[ By the time they disembark at the Fire Nation's capital city, the nausea has receded, though his face rivals the color of the wan gray sky. It's almost dusk; he's logy and slow-headed from the long crossing. But the city, like every city, wakes him up. The lit-up buildings, in their towering brilliance, remind him of Bangkok, as does the stop-and-start traffic, the crowds on foot surging in and out of every dazzling golden entrance. Nothing like Republic City -- a place he's only just begun to pronounce with Home-flavored syllables -- but amazing in its own right. ]

[ As amazing as it was the first time he'd visited -- except now, Korra is at his side, bright-eyed and fizzling with energy like a can of soda all stirred-up. ]

[ Twining his fingers with hers, he squeezes lightly, ]

What should we do first?

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hearing her use that operative jargon -- snippets of a world full of tradecraft and secrets, a world she knows little about -- teases a faint but bittersweet smile out of Hei. She's neither a Contractor nor a soldier. For her, his tendency to navigate through each environment on the basis of thorough, cautious, near-paranoid tactics is just a personal quirk. Devoid of context, she can't grasp the full array of its implications -- the cause and effect. She doesn't listen to the distinct rhythms of footsteps in empty corridors and crowded streets. She never looks both ways as she comes out of a building, let alone checks for surveillance hot spots. She doesn't lash out when someone approaches her blind side, or balk at the idea of sitting with her back to a door. ]

[ Why would she? She's the Avatar -- secure in the knowledge that she can handle whatever comes her way. Hei has never had that luxury of being born powerful. Doubt is always a persistent sting, burrowing under his skin like a chigger. By now, he's fashioned it into a weaponized art-form. ]

[ He doesn't think about that. His palms splay across the sheets, on either side of her head, as he allows her to tug him down. He settles his weight across her, looming in to press kisses here and there to the warm clock of her face, his lips at once cool and feathery. ]

Secure as it gets.

[ The words are a low hot thrum against the line of her jaw, where he nuzzles lazily. Not a seduction, or a demand -- just a moment of basking in her heat like a reptile crawling out into the sunlight. Listening to the reassuring thub of her heart. ]

[ Quieter, ]

Go back to sleep. I already told you: the springs aren't going anywhere.

[anatural]

[She's hardly devoid of context. She may not have the full picture in living color, but she has the simple, evocative outline, with just enough detail to resonate emotionally. She understands where it comes from; she just never has the same feeling. She's made peace with her demons, and he's weaponized his.]

Mmm. [She scrapes her nails along the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue his attentions. Someone once told her she has the sex drive of a teenage boy, and Korra knew that was an insult without really understanding why. She still doesn't really get why. She likes her sex drive; she especially likes dragging Hei along for the ride, watching that brief waiver between his habitual asceticism and the promise of pleasure before he tumbles in with her.] You know, we don't have to go anywhere either. [She spreads her legs invitingly and drags his hand down her side.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ At the skitter of her nails, Hei's breath hitches, low and jittery-edged. He'll be the first to agree she has the sex-drive of a teenage boy. But he'll also be the first to laud its virtues to the high-fucking-heavens, because it's gratifying to be with someone like this, so crazily intensely responsive. How it seems to take nothing for him to stir her into heat: just the murmur of a particular word might do it, the merest brush or kiss. But the best part is knowing that it's not an indifferent, undifferentiated lust, a cold animal rut for anything with a dick and a working pair of hands. ]

[ Hei knows what that looks like -- because in his mind's eye that is the figurehead of his own drives, an intensely personal selfishness for those he wants, and the ways he wants them. It's conceivable to cherish the nature of women, sure. They're lovely and soft, willing to accommodate the man who knows how best to stroke them. But that's on a whole: he generally feels nothing on a case-by-case basis. A predator's relationship is with the end, not the means. The self-gratification, not the person. He's adept at breaking any object of desire -- real or pretended -- down to its base elements: tits, asses, lips, hips, cocks, cunts. The process of dehumanization has almost become an imperative for him. ]

[ Except here. Because he dearly cherishes the nature of this girl. ]

[ She spreads her legs beneath the taut curve of his body -- and against his will, Hei sinks in closer, a warm heavy drape. His lips leave cool trails of moisture on her skin, mouthing the tender underside of her jaw, the curve of her neck, tracing the vein that pounds so enticingly, while at the crux of their bodies, in his jeans, he can feel himself hardening against her belly. ]

[ He lets her guide his hand, playing her ribs as if tickling piano keys, palming the curve of her hip, before skimming his fingers along the warm smooth sliver of skin above her waistband. ]

[ Kissing the soft shell of her ear, he teases, ]

Point. But suppose you fall asleep again?

[anatural]

[Korra remembers when he'd break her down like that — tits, ass, cunt. She never understood how he could enjoy sex that way. He's never been bad in bed, but he's definitely gotten a lot better since he stopped treating her like an assembly of body parts.

She has a very specific place she wants his fingers, but wow is it tempting to slip her hand into his pants. She loves trying to tease a reaction out of him; unlike her, Hei keeps it very tightly contained. She pushes their hands under the waistband of her pants as he murmurs in her ear.]

Then you should really be embarrassed. [That would certainly be a crowning moment of humiliation — your partner falling asleep while you're having sex. Korra can't ever imagine it actually happening.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He'll never admit it -- but it's happened a couple of times. Once because the other party was too drunk, head lolling on the pillow and eyes fluttering shut even as she'd clung limpet-like to him, every so often drowsily exhorting him to Fuck her, Fuck her hard, Fill her up, Make her cum, etc, as if reading a bedtime story, while he felt a congested ammonia-scented pressure build up in her whole pelvis. Hei had stopped of his own accord, half-afraid she'd pee on him if he did make her come. The other time it was with Amber, holding him tight as he'd gone into her, looking breathless and dreamy and glad in a way that couldn't have flattered him more -- until she'd undercut it with a shy yawn halfway through the fuck and dozed off, head nestled under his chin. She'd giggled apologetically about it when he sulked later, pleading exhaustion from a long day of hiking and humidity. ]

[ He tries not to think about that right now. Korra nudges their joined hands down the waistband of her pants, and he catches that impudent curl of her mobile mouth with his, kissing her with a strangely greedy delicacy. emitting that low little hum he makes when his desire is burgeoning, while his fingers push lower, finding that humid cluster of curls, and then, slickness, heat, bare wet flesh. ]

[ He teases the seam of her gently, back to front, flicking at the tip of her clit, while he scrapes his teeth across her upper-lip, sucks the sweet plumpness of her lower one. Again and again. Nibbling whispers of kisses. ]

[anatural]

[Korra squirms delightedly and settles her hands on his waist as he starts warming her up. She can feel sleep's lassitude fading, replaced with a tingling ache, but she does nothing more than dig her nails into his skin. She's not as competitive as she used to be, or as determined to show she could control her own life. She's learned how to just enjoy him working her over, knowing she'll get her turn later. Give and take — an ocean instead of a fight.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It still amazes Hei sometimes, knowing she's let go of reticences he hadn't realized she still cherished, laying herself open to him in new ways. Letting herself be, at least in bed, submissive -- but in no way subservient. It makes his pulse, his breath, flutter in his chest, as if birds are spreading their wings inside him -- even as part of him feels constrained by the heavy anchors of that trust. He hasn't earned it; he certainly doesn't feel equal to it. ]

[ But he tries, in small ways, to meet its expectations. He hasn't been deeply involved with many women, and among them, only Amber really knew about, and accepted, what he is only just beginning to refer to as his past. He looks at Korra sometimes, and he thinks of that saying -- about repeating past mistakes. Fall for the wrong person, get too close, too codependent, fuck everything up. It's a been-there, done-that dance. Except it's not the same. Korra's not Amber, and he's ... not even him. Not the person he was. The intimacies he shares with Korra come from unexpected places within him, places that didn't exist when he was seventeen. Aspects of his mind and his body that by long habit he's learnt to conceal ferociously and that he concedes now only slowly, cautiously, with a dubious hope. ]

[ He looks at her sometimes, and it's ... It's like his mind is groping for words. ]

[ It's like his life is rewiring itself. ]

[ He can't tell her any of that. Doesn't know how. So instead he kisses her, slow, tongue-tracing sips of kisses. His palm dips lower between her thighs, the heel a soft relentless pressure on her clit while he dips two fingers into her entrance. Curling, crooking, instantly slicked, as he drags them across the roof of her sex, teasing that spongy little sweet-spot of hers. ]

[anatural]

[He doesn't have to tell her; she can see the change in him. It's there in the casual, intimate little touches that he used to flinch away from; it's in how he stays close after the sex is done. She's no longer a toy for his pleasure, or an outlet for his stress (nor is he for hers). She used to feel like they were playing a game except he wouldn't tell her the rules until after she broke them. She used to be afraid of him, even as she found herself devastatingly attracted to him.

She moans and rolls her hips encouragingly. Through heated kisses she asks —] How thick are the walls here? [One story about a skillet-wielding innkeeper and her son busting into the room mid-coitus is plenty. Korra doesn't really want to be the reason parents have to give their kids "the talk," or offer up masturbatory fuel. They'd ended up cutting their stay in that town short because the kid had to keep a piece of furniture between them at all times to try & hide his constant boner.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Look on the bright side. That's probably the most perfect -- and only -- pair of tits that boy will lay his eyes on, given the state of affairs in that dismal dustbowl of a town. Half the women there had faces like bees-nests; you'd have to be a sailor at port after months at sea, horny enough to screw a knothole, to be interested in them. ]

[ At her question, the brief sketch of a smile flickers across his lips, before he deepens the kiss, tongue fucking her open with wet stabs, while his fingers work into her below, thumb rolling her clit as he coaxes her past that layer of cautious restraint, feeling the slick, clinging interior of her throb against his fingertips. ]

[ On a ragged inhale, he murmurs, ]

Couples visit this resort -- to get away from in-laws.

[ That should tell you plenty. ]

[ His fingers make lewd little squelches as they work in and out of her. With the other hand, he nudges beneath the fabric of her blouse, fingers skimming the hard-soft ladder of her ribs, to cup the muffled swell of her breast through her sarashi. He's harder than he's realized; the pull of her warm body, all twisty delight, makes him aware of himself, where his cock presses rigidly into her belly through the constricting trousers. ]

[anatural]

[Look, her boobs are not a public service. That's not a bright side for her.

His words indeed tell her plenty.]

Perfect. [She doesn't have to worry about holding back then; she lets herself be vocal in her pleasure.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ (But a thing of beauty should be shared with all!) ]

[ Her little sounds seem to melt through him, shocky-sweet and cool as ice cream dribbling down his spine. He wants to take this at a leisurely pace, his fingers questing slowly into the wet heat between her legs, mouth open, swallowing up her shivery cries in deep gulps. But the flare of lust rises higher and higher, water at a boil, mercury popping -- so he's abruptly dragging both his mouth and fingers free. ]

[ Sitting up, he strips out of his shirt and kicks off his boots, one hand fiddling with the clasp of his trousers, a hot convexity of pressure aching beneath the fly. He manages only to pop the top button and drag the zipper down, taking himself in hand to squeeze the tension down a few notches. In the next breath his attention refastens on Korra. Something about the aggressive lack of eroticism in those wrinkled sheaves of her clothes makes it positively obscene. ]

[ With a rough but playful efficiency, he drags off her shirt, hands exploring her breasts, still clothed in her sarashi. Drifts down her body, hooking his fingers into the fabric of her pants and underwear, just at her hip. He pulls with a vicious wrench that makes something flare giddily in his chest. Takes the advantage of Korra's raised legs, and grabs one foot, bending her knee back up towards her. Leaning in, he gnaws at the jut of her hip, before dipping low to fasten his mouth against her sex. ]

[ Humid clusters of curls; a declivity of salty-hot slickness. Humming, he drags his tongue in long, wide licks, still gripping Korra's foot, thumb against the ticklish arch. ]

[anatural]

Wah! [It's more a laugh than a yelp; she's not surprised by how he takes off her pants, but ouch! It's like rugburn on her hips. She lets out little noises — not girlish enough to be giggles, but definitely amused — and flails her leg, trying (without putting much effort into it) to knock his hand off. The dual sensations of his hand and his mouth make her body feel like a bowl almost overflowing with something fizzy and warm. Her free hand drifts up to play with her breasts.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She's so fucking gorgeous like this. It's not that he forgets. But it's never more so than right now, when she lies spread open for him on the dark linen sheets of this big bed, a strewn treasure cask, entirely undefended. Her little sounds are like preludes to bubbly laughs as he rubs his thumb against the ticklish spot on her sole, his mouth wet and sloppy and relentlessly busy between her thighs. Her warm Korrasmell envelops him; soft summery sweat, some generic flowery soap from their travels, the oceanness of her sex, whisper of forests and wet soil and rain. ]

[ With a low, half-stifled hum, he breaks away, a clear strand of moisture stretching between his lower lip and her sex. Mouths the crease of hip and groin, tongue laving the sensitive skin, before biting her thigh, her belly, then climbing across her body to cover her hands with his, kneading the swathed roundness of her breasts. ]

[ The twitching length of his cock falls upon her labia, furred curls and slippery heat as he rocks his hips, the head just barely nudging at her clit. Meanwhile, his hands are busy, unwrapping the folds of her sarashi, letting it tumble half-undone around her midriff, until her breasts are cupped in his hands. He squeezes them roughly, lowering his head to worry her nipples, teeth and tongue and merciless suction, and fuck, she feels so warm, as if she's running a fever, burning him up with her in the dim coolness of the room. ]

[anatural]

Heeeeeeeeeei! [She was enjoying the attention between her legs! Don't stop! She can take care of her breasts herself! The feel of his cock against her clit is pure torture. She's not sure whether she's afraid he'll slip inside or ready to shove him in herself. She knows penetration itself isn't particularly fun for some girls; they need lots of foreplay to get any satisfaction from it, but Korra loves it, no foreplay necessary.

Still, she pushes at his shoulders.] You're not done down there, mister.

[mortemscintilla]

I'll finish. Eventually.

[ Like it's a dish he's saving for last. ]

[ In the meantime, he's happy to stay where he is, exploring the warm heft and softness of her breasts, rolling her nipples between gentle teeth, again and again, coaxing them into tense little crinkles of flesh while an intolerable, nearly insupportable pressure gathers in his dick. Still, something in him always longs to try to re-catalog her, with all the pleasure of knowing it is a neverending task. The finish line -- for now -- is less interesting.]

[ Humming, he slurps one hard nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, then blows gently on the other. Nips at the underside of one breast and traces her rib-cage with his teeth, mapping the bisecting line of her body, testing each inch of her skin to see the resultant reaction. After an infinity of whorling licks and biting kisses, their prints like blotchy red hearts on her skin, he breaks to fall between her legs. Slides his palms under her thighs, squeezing her buttocks, as he nuzzles the dark split plum of her sex, mouthing her through slicked corkscrews of curls, laving his tongue back to front, flattening it across her clit, over and over, at first tender then exquisitely cruel. ]

[ He wants to draw the scent of her into his skin, his lungs, with the goal of driving her first toward desperation, then escalating frustration, and then past all coherent words or thought. ]

[anatural]

[Her moan of frustration is good natured. This is the best kind of torture, and the license to be as loud as she wants is pretty liberating. She channels her every instinct to fight back, to wrestle control from him, into her voice. (Who knew moaning, in and of itself, could feel so good?)

When he finally lets her come, it's like an earthquake — her body trembles, shakes, falls into pieces. She melts into mattress and tries to remember how to breathe. Her arms feel like noodles, but she manages to get a hold of his hair and tug to indicate she wants him to come back up.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's always a thrill, watching her climb higher, her ribs laddering under the shivery rounds of her breasts as she draws in ragged gasps, hips pressing skittishly and needily to his mouth, until her noises become choked and breathless in a long, hard crest. Hei groans against her convulsing folds, as if he too, feels it. His whole body is a tense cramp of aborted need, his cock jutting out red-hot and dribbling. ]

[ When she tugs, he climbs across her. His eyes, his every lineament, has picked up that familiar blade-sharp impatience. But his fingers are gentle when he smoothes back her damp tangle of hair, his kisses languid and sloppy as he presses the tart taste of her back to her mouth. Loving the judder of her pulse beneath the lovely squashed weight of her breasts against his chest; every shift and quiver of lean, ripely curved muscle, his own whippish angles clinging to them like an unlikely second-skin. ]

[ He sucks her lower-lip between his worrying teeth, before letting it slide free with a wet pop. Nuzzles her neck to tease, ]

What's the difference between fair trade ... and free trade?

[ His cock prods against the curve of her hip, a messy red-tipped punctuation, as if slavering to be steeped in her mouth. ]

[anatural]

[How is she supposed to catch her breath when he keeps stealing it with kisses? He breaks the kiss and she gasps for air, a shiver running through her. With another breath, she musters up the strength to roll over and take her turn.

Then he asks about trade. Huh?]

What does that have to do with anything?

[Congrats, Hei. She'd have her mouth on your cock right now if you hadn't decided to get clever with her.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ God, Korra, even knock-knock jokes would be too much for you, wouldn't they? ]

[ Hei just gives her A Look. Dry deadpan expression, slightly lowered head -- the bored cat look -- the better with which to contemplate her silliness askance, as if assessing her for a flick to the temple or a friction-y noogie, none of which he tries much these days. But it still raises a whiff of jerkass sensibility. Much like the smell of your old favorite clothes unearthed from a drawer -- but nowhere near as homey. ]

[ In the end, approximating a huffing sound that's the equavalent of Never mind, he slinks closer, so they're within kissing distance, limbs damply entwined. Lets his lips meander across her little face, his cock hiccoughing with a needy interest against her warm belly. ]

[anatural]

[Well EXCUSE HER for not getting your weird sense of humor after you've blown her brains out. You're the one who wanted to rid her brain of all coherent thought. You got what you wanted. She contemplates pushing for an explanation, but as his cock throbs against her stomach, decides she doesn't care.

Instead, she flips them over and straddles him so his erection is pressed between the folds of her labia.]

Anyway. Now it's my turn.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Before, Hei would've resisted. Now he spills obligingly onto his back, an easy bonelessness in his extremities even as tension simmers at the crux of his body, where his erection is a drunken twitching against his belly and the splayed slickness of Korra's sex. In the gold lamplight, her eye and the slice of one cheek glow, the rest of her body limned into a pale jumble of angles and curves: the winglike sweep of collarbones, the overspilling breasts like pale moons in their own right, the dark nipples sweetly eclipsing, the tiny pucker of navel and the melting sweeps of thighs and hips. Glowing, charged with energy, she is enchanting.]

[ Tucking one hand behind his head, Hei lets the other dip its way between her sticky thighs, one finger pressing that good spot that makes her wriggle. His gaze is a soft hot flickering, up and down the length of her. ]

Do your worst.

[ Or in this case your best? ]

[anatural]

[Ooooooh. She rolls her hips encouragingly, but no. She's not going to get distracted. She grabs his wrist and forcefully pins it to the bed.]

Don't move.

[She slides with agonizing slowness down his body, until she's just a breath away from the top of his cock. She wraps her hand around it and kisses it. The smell is kind of strong — they probably should've bathed before going at it like this — but he didn't say anything about her stink, so she decides to keep her mouth shut. Metaphorically. In actually, she wraps her mouth around the head and begins a slow, torturous tease.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ 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. ]

[anatural]

[Awww, Hei, you're so romantic. Korra's nose is not so sentimental, but its complaints are easy to ignore as she feels him tense. She swirls her tongue around the tip before lightly scraping the bottom with her teeth. Her eyes are glued to his face, devouring the slightest change in his expression the same way her mouth devours him. Sinking, sucking, licking, teasing his balls with her fingers.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ At the scrape of her teeth, Hei's gasp comes out strangled; his eyes are half-shuttered, the stubby fan of lashes casting sulky shadows on his cheeks, and a vein at his left temple throbs, seeming to match the ache between his legs. ]

[ With effort, his clenched fingers ease their grip on the sheets. He reaches out as if to grab a handful of Korra's hair, but merely touches the promontory of her cheek with a tracing finger. It's not romantic, and nor is he, not really. But he can afford this. Softness, an open caring in a way that he isn't with other people, because there is every reason not to be. He's used to inverting himself inside-out like a sea-monster, everything tender hidden behind a nest of spikes and venom, and that's fine. That's the only defense he's often had, in order to keep himself intact. ]

[ But he doesn't need to do that here. There's truth, and then there's reality, and this is the easiest way to distill all his feelings about her down into a single touch -- unloaded and honest. ]