[ It's said in a drunken tone that matches the slowing skitter of his heartbeat, the way the light in the room pulses, blurring and sharpening. He wants to applaud at the way she swallows like a champ, not a drop wasted. But he can barely bring himself to move. Skin flushed all over, sweat-moistened, chest rising and falling as he tries to fight the soft encroaching blackness of sleep. Still reeling from the crunching timelines, the different dimensions, a sleepless night of recon and burgeoning tension, he's gripped by a cataleptic exhaustion. ]
[ Forcibly, he shakes it off. He's already left Korra once to neglect and sadness. He doesn't plan to do it again -- even if it's for a few hours of rest. Especially when the orgasm has taken the edge off his hunger, but done nothing to deplete the want that is even now brimming fizzily over, leaving him half-hard and drowsily antsy. ]
[ She settles against him, and he lingers on the kiss, tasting his own pungent spendings, bitter with amines and stress. Breaks to bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her deep saltysweet aroma of sweat and spunk. The reunion is providing him even more than he'd missed, or hoped for. But in the back of his mind, the worries remain, sharp glints clicking and snapping, like scissors cutting away at his blissed-out contentment. Yin is missing, and Mao. The network he'd pieced together here is gone. He and Korra have been robbed of three years that he can only now contemplate with bitterness, speculation, sadness, hindsight. ]
[ They've both been cheated of something, he thinks. Better roads. Happier possibilities. But what's the point of considering it now? It's enough that she's here, inviting him back into her life. Not like two puzzle pieces clicking together, exactly. But as if the fibers of his skin, his psyche, are still loosely threaded with hers. ]
[ Gathering her close, he kisses her forehead, both old habit and gratitude. Wryly, ]
If I get this fourteen or fifteen times a week, I'll be cured though.
no subject
[ It's said in a drunken tone that matches the slowing skitter of his heartbeat, the way the light in the room pulses, blurring and sharpening. He wants to applaud at the way she swallows like a champ, not a drop wasted. But he can barely bring himself to move. Skin flushed all over, sweat-moistened, chest rising and falling as he tries to fight the soft encroaching blackness of sleep. Still reeling from the crunching timelines, the different dimensions, a sleepless night of recon and burgeoning tension, he's gripped by a cataleptic exhaustion. ]
[ Forcibly, he shakes it off. He's already left Korra once to neglect and sadness. He doesn't plan to do it again -- even if it's for a few hours of rest. Especially when the orgasm has taken the edge off his hunger, but done nothing to deplete the want that is even now brimming fizzily over, leaving him half-hard and drowsily antsy. ]
[ She settles against him, and he lingers on the kiss, tasting his own pungent spendings, bitter with amines and stress. Breaks to bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her deep saltysweet aroma of sweat and spunk. The reunion is providing him even more than he'd missed, or hoped for. But in the back of his mind, the worries remain, sharp glints clicking and snapping, like scissors cutting away at his blissed-out contentment. Yin is missing, and Mao. The network he'd pieced together here is gone. He and Korra have been robbed of three years that he can only now contemplate with bitterness, speculation, sadness, hindsight. ]
[ They've both been cheated of something, he thinks. Better roads. Happier possibilities. But what's the point of considering it now? It's enough that she's here, inviting him back into her life. Not like two puzzle pieces clicking together, exactly. But as if the fibers of his skin, his psyche, are still loosely threaded with hers. ]
[ Gathering her close, he kisses her forehead, both old habit and gratitude. Wryly, ]
If I get this fourteen or fifteen times a week, I'll be cured though.