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Entry tags:
across time & space
WHO: Hei & Korra
WHAT: Hei’s been missing for years.
[Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? As Korra watches Mako walk down the beach path, she kind of regrets telling him she was fine. The air feels a lot chillier without his companionable warmth. But he's no better at comfort sex than Bolin is; they're both too romantic. Of all her friends, Asami's the only one who really understands the occasional need for intimacy without its attendant baggage. Too bad Asami's out of town.
Korra smiles and shakes her head as she opens the front door. It doesn't matter. Nights like this are why she remodeled the house so Naga could come inside. The polar bear dog's warm, solid presence is like a campfire, a soft blanket, and hot tea all in one affectionate package.
Speaking of — Naga pokes her head out of the bedroom door and whines a question.]
I'm sorry, girl. She didn't make it. [Even with Korra to stabilize her wounds and the best vet in Republic City, Cat's injuries from the hit & run accident were too severe.
One by one, everything that connects her to Hei is vanishing. A few months after he was officially declared dead, Yin went missing. Her black cat died, and some guy with a poodlebird from Future Industries took all the computer equipment. She's had to renovate the house a few times, due to storms and other emergencies. And now Cat.
It makes Korra feel sad, but mostly it makes her feel old. The normal bumps and pains that occur over a lifetime have been crammed into less than a decade; she's still a few years shy of thirty, but she feels like she's her mother's age sometimes.
Naga nuzzles her shoulder comfortingly, and Korra takes the invitation to wrap her arms around her and bury her face in the polar bear dog's fur.]
I'm tired of losing people.
WHAT: Hei’s been missing for years.
[Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? As Korra watches Mako walk down the beach path, she kind of regrets telling him she was fine. The air feels a lot chillier without his companionable warmth. But he's no better at comfort sex than Bolin is; they're both too romantic. Of all her friends, Asami's the only one who really understands the occasional need for intimacy without its attendant baggage. Too bad Asami's out of town.
Korra smiles and shakes her head as she opens the front door. It doesn't matter. Nights like this are why she remodeled the house so Naga could come inside. The polar bear dog's warm, solid presence is like a campfire, a soft blanket, and hot tea all in one affectionate package.
Speaking of — Naga pokes her head out of the bedroom door and whines a question.]
I'm sorry, girl. She didn't make it. [Even with Korra to stabilize her wounds and the best vet in Republic City, Cat's injuries from the hit & run accident were too severe.
One by one, everything that connects her to Hei is vanishing. A few months after he was officially declared dead, Yin went missing. Her black cat died, and some guy with a poodlebird from Future Industries took all the computer equipment. She's had to renovate the house a few times, due to storms and other emergencies. And now Cat.
It makes Korra feel sad, but mostly it makes her feel old. The normal bumps and pains that occur over a lifetime have been crammed into less than a decade; she's still a few years shy of thirty, but she feels like she's her mother's age sometimes.
Naga nuzzles her shoulder comfortingly, and Korra takes the invitation to wrap her arms around her and bury her face in the polar bear dog's fur.]
I'm tired of losing people.
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[ Do they? Three years, swallowed up into the ether. He's amazed she still wants him, amazed his presence doesn't make her memories careen in a way that skirts the sickening. It does for him. Everything is so fucking precarious. He wants to show her how much he's missed her, but he's afraid of regressing to his usual flash-bang pace, unable to sort out his feelings from the numbness he's laid over them in order to endure the long journey in space. It's too much like right after he'd first hooked up with Korra. When going thorough the motions of living made his psyche blur into nothingness for him -- and he needed a sharp edge of violence and sex to throw himself against in order to keep the outlines alive. ]
[ Now, here, he's wary of doing the same thing. Wary of being unable to express that, You make me feel something hard and big and solid and real. It's ripping me apart so fast I need to cast it off onto you. ]
[ Forcibly, he smooths out his inhales and exhales. Take it slow. He tries. Crawling across her, a heap of fast-twitch muscle and damp weight, he catches her head, cradling it in widespread fingers to kiss her. Heat spikes low in the pit of his belly; he forces the desire to soften. ]
Maybe ... I should've waited ... when I got back. [ Words spoken between kisses, as soft and strangely shy as the warm nuzzle of his lips. ] Given you time to decide what you wanted. Only I missed you. So much.
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I want this. [It feels so good, so right, in ways that the (very good) sex she's had with other people just hasn't. She hooks a leg around his and presses her body against his erection.] I've missed you too. I never stopped. [Even after she stopped thinking about him every single day. Even after she stopped crying and/or destroying things when something reminded her of him. Grief doesn't end; it changes.]
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[ And in the now, inrushing echoes of their every encounter sweep over him with delicious vividness, lucid tactile memories of the her body, the feel and flavor of her, hypnotically warm flesh working greedily against his own. He can have that again, he thinks -- almost shattered with delight at the stupidly obvious realization. Unknowingly, he is stirring against her, loving the velvety-hot feel of her belly -- the way it makes his dick flare with a full-blooded throb. His tongue traces hers, flicking across her teeth, the tip of her nose, the whorl of her ear, the point of her jaw. Fuck, he wants his cock inside her -- but he also wants this to go on forever, because he's afraid that once he's inside her, he'll come immediately. ]
[ Finally, half distraction, half fevery-minded indulgence, he cups both of her breasts. Squeezes with a soft encompassing possessiveness that is gentle, but also rough. He dusts them with kisses, bestowing delicate bites to her nipples, scraping the tender undersides with his sandpapery cheek -- before pressing them together to draw both the pebbly tips into his wide-open mouth, humming as his erection jerks with a live-wire ache. ]
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The actual work of a relationship is far from her thoughts at this moment, though — he takes her nipples into his mouth and she whimpers, wriggling under him. Instead of tugging his hair, as had been her want, she strokes it... a habit she picked up from her less rough & tumble lovers.]
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[ There is no way to ask. ]
[ He draws back, tongue tracing the rounds of her nipples, spit-shiny and darkly pebbled from his mouth. ]
Don't hold back with me.
[ A coaxing half-whisper, his gaze catching and digging into Korra's as if trying to sift through those soft layers of shyness, to find that wicked, wild girl he remembers. Maybe she's not there anymore? Things change, bodies change, patterns and preferences kaleidoscope with different lovers. ]
[ Gently, he pinches her nipples, chafes them across the rough pads of his thumb. Experimental, but also playful, rubbing his bristly cheek against the springy points. ]
I wonder if I could make you come just by playing with these.
[ It's idle, half-serious, but a skein of dark curiosity lurks beneath. Not just at what her body can do, how it's changed and how it hasn't -- but if she's more aware of the heights she can scale to now, with the right partners. ]
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[She wriggles as he plays with her nipples — with fingers and even his stubble, which is way more arousing than she would have expected. Could he make her come just with those? One of her early, unfortunate affairs had a creepy fixation on her breasts... It'd been hot, at first, how he lavished attention upon them, but then he wanted to nurse like a baby and that just completely grossed her out.]
Just don't gurgle like a baby.
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[ Wisely, he refrains from a delicate interrogation. There's no need for it. Her words, her offhand actions, fill the gap of three years, the question marks wafting within, with a sticky stew of clues, corroborations. It makes his brain stutter, because it's uncanny to be doing that with Korra. Weaving a map of her history, based on the slightest remark or gesture, fragments carded and heaped together to create a cohesive whole, the way he automatically does with strangers. He still thinks of her face as a blooming-open sunflower. But now he's no longer sure he knows her. ]
[ It doesn't matter. He's so aroused, his senses swimming with her. Her eyes are all for him right now; he can't help but look into them with a soft curiosity, feeling like he's experiencing a reunion with someone he's forgotten even about forgetting. ]
[ Then he stops thinking at all -- and just does. ]
[ She is so radiant when his mouth touches her, the teeth grazing her skin, neck, chest, slope of each breast. Lips closing over the high tight nipples, worrying them between playful teeth, before he sucks them with ruthless wet pressure into his mouth. As he does, he shifts the drape of his body across hers, wedging his thigh between hers, feeling the soft prickling hairs and hot moisture of her sex. Meanwhile, his mouth and hands stay busy. Experimenting with different sensations, different textures and temperatures. Leisurely, in a way he hasn't been since back in the City. ]
[ Kneading her breasts, plumping them high, he revels in the heat and softness of her skin, the sensuous weight of them. Catches her nipples between his fingers, then his teeth, lusty bites and tweaking pinches, hot gusts of breath and cold wafts of air, grazing them with short nails, letting her nipples rasp across his rough palms, chafe against his bristly stubble, then slide across the wet smoothness of his tongue. Keeps at it, his attention growing progressively more hungry, more certain, until he knows her breasts will be a riot of heavy heat and thumping sensation -- just as his cock is, a drunken thrumming against his belly. ]
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And she's about to tell him he's cheating on the test, sliding his leg between her thighs where she can grind against it, except he's working her breasts so thoroughly that she doesn't dare distract him. Doesn't have the breath to, even if she did. She makes her pleasure known through little whimpers and sighs — quieter than she would have been a few years ago, but with the promise of a crescendo — and pulls hard on his hair.
Fuck... he might actually get her to come this way... She just needs a little something more, or maybe just different, to push her over the edge.]
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[ Teething her nipples, he bounces and massages the flesh of her breasts, feeling them pulse hotly against his palms. She's as delightfully sensitive as ever, and he can feel her climbing, her whole body clinging to him in persuasion, welcome, pleading. ]
[ On a rare impulse, feeling daring, he lets her nipples slip free from his mouth with a lewd pop. Lets the stubble sanding his cheek scrape across them, rough and deliberate, before he gulps them back into his mouth. He strokes them with his teeth until they grow painfully hard -- right before he lets a charge play out, barely a frisson of sparkage, the swirl of his tongue carrying the carefully choreographed swish of an electric eel, nothing else but slick heat and biting half-moons of teeth and kneading fingers and crackling sensation and hard suction. ]
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Wow. Congratulations.
[She feels energized, enough to flip him over so she's straddling his chest.]
So...what would you like as reward?
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[ Slowly, he circles his arms around her, tracing his palms down the gradated pebbles of her spine, over her lovely buttocks, pinching them into welts of faint color -- just as he tips his head up to catch her mouth, to muffle any protests she might make into a languid, sloppy kiss. ]
[ When he draws back, it's on a rushed inhale, her lower-lip caught in his teeth, then sliding free with a slick pop. ]
Your mouth, for starters.
[ After that, well. His whole body, after a year of forcibly submerging desire, feels the tugging undercurrents of freedom, want unfolding upon want, a wild fevery dream that grips him with white-hot teeth and doesn't let go. He intends to take every liberty she allows. ]
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Close your eyes. [She bends a little water out of the pitcher she keeps by the bed and makes two small balls of ice which she pops into her mouth. Then she uses a little firebending to make her hands extra warm, and takes him in hand. Lubing up with precum and sweat, she gets him used to the burning warmth of her hand before wrapping her cold mouth around the head of his cock.]
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[ There's a moment's hesitation, before he obliges, eyes slipping shut. Fever-heat clouds his mind, but there is a spiky lick of curiosity as he wonders what she has planned. Then her palm wraps around his shaft, hot as dissolving flame, just as the icy wet of her mouth engulfs him. ]
Fuck.
[ The gasp is like a catch scraping across his chest, as if down in the depths of him an anchor tugs violently at its nest of steel, threatening to break loose. Wildly, his hands scrabble to bury themselves in her hair, palms cradling the back of her skull. His hips jerk in a short, uncontrollable spasm before he forces himself to still: the only movement seems to center at his groin, where his cock is a jut of burning heat, twitching pressure, at the mercy of her attentions. ]
[ God. She's really learned a thing or five. If he has her other affairs to thank for it, well ... He won't thank them, but he won't kick over it either. ]
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Her one hand keeps hold of him as she sucks; the other runs a burning finger from beneath his balls to the pucker of his ass (not threatening to push it, just teasing the surface with warmth. She uses her tongue to roll the little balls of ice around his head, careful to not let the cold linger too long.]
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[ When her finger dips lower, a hot but gentle prodding, he jerks as if singed. Swallows, and forces himself to relax. Not the kind of play he goes for -- but this is Korra. He'll never tell her, but sometimes, the way she takes him into her mouth, a drunken-warm engulfment, makes him feel less like she's devouring him whole and more as if she's keeping him safe. ]
[ But safe doesn't mean peaceful. He's aware of his agitation increasing, along with the sound of his labored breathing. His palms are wedded in a hot clasp to her skull, her hair spilling ticklishly over his fingers. His hips tremble with the urge to buck, to fuck her mouth in a rapid, jamming rhythm. Instead he lets off a low noise, almost like a helpless chant of Yes that parallels a fear that she might stop -- or that he might call things to a halt by blowing his load too soon. ]
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[ He lets off a faint growl, tensing with the effort of holding back. But his body is too unruly, too starved. When she fondles his balls, he seizes up on a jittery hitched gasp, before feeling the climax explode -- inside, outside, shaking him all over, his arms stretching over his head and his hips riding fast as he spurts into her mouth with a sudden unexpected gush. ]
[ In the wet-tissuey bonelessness that follows, shame descends, weaving uneasily with satiation, like dark honeycombed with lightness. ]
...Damn...
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She licks him dry and then crawls up his body to kiss him, burrowing herself against his side and tangling their legs together.
That must've been building up for awhile...
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[ 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.
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That little comment of his gets a smile.]
I might be able to arrange that. But not if you fall asleep on me. [Poke poke poke.]
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[ More or less. The warmth of her skin, the soft rhythmic thumping of her heart, helps dispel his torpor, but also keeps away the worries that are threatening to jostle forward.]
[ Blinking heavily, he shifts to press her breasts softly together, covering them in cool kisses. Unwinds himself a little, to trace his palms down the length of her body. Feeling the strong suppleness of her arms, the bones of her wrists, exploring the more calloused palms. Runs his fingertips along the lines of her ribs, prodding the hollow of her belly and the juts of her hips, poking a finger into her navel -- tender, but somehow investigative, gathering clues he can't bring himself to ask her. ]
[ There's a beat, then, quietly, ]
For three years ... you're none the worse.
[ Maybe the years haven't been kind, sure -- but they haven't been ugly, either. ]
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It's been pretty quiet. I've been focusing on my spiritual responsibilities.
[She traces her own hands over his skin, looking for changes.] What about you?
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[ How it feels so strange not to be in a place where the surfaces aren't artificial. Formica. Vinyl. Plastic. Fluorescent. How everything here feels so real, so strangely gritty and textured. Iron, wood, leather, wool. He can't tell her how it's so wonderful to sprawl in bed with her, bathed in the bars of honey-colored sunlight that fall through the blinds. Inside the Enterprise, the light, despite its luminosity, had never felt the same as real sunlight: it was as if the architecture of the ship, or the compounds used to build it -- the chrome and steel and plastiglass -- leeched some part of the brightness away. Not just the heat -- but its vitamins or the really nourishing part of it. When it had touched his skin, it had felt as cold as the light from a bare bulb in a broom closet. ]
[ He wants to sprawl here in bed, bathed in this airy sunlight, for as long as he can. Drinking it in, the same way a plant does. ]
[ And nestled against him, Korra is like a ripe tasty fruit, warmed by that same wonderful sun. ]
[ Finally, in a tone of deceptive jocularity: ]
Months and months on a ship? Not much to do but read and work out and sleep.
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[ Simple -- and stunning, with her face bright in a dark mess of hair, that beguiling flush racing up her chest and neck, blotchy and rosy and heavenly. Languidly, Hei drags his hands down her thighs, rubbing along the edges of her kneecaps, feeling out the joins of bones beneath the skin. Parts them by degrees, to press moist openmouthed kisses to her tender inner-thighs, nuzzling at them, deliberately avoiding the dark thatch of curls between her legs. ]
[ Her scent, a thick lather of excitement that perfumes the air, always, even now, makes him think of ... god, what is it? It makes him think back to the days he'd come home as a boy, happy and dirt-smudged from the woods, with pine sap smeared on his hands, and his mother would punt him into the shower, telling him not to come out until his hair squeaked. A quantum leap of memory that makes sense, if only in his own head. ]
[ Kissing her silly little outie, he murmurs, ] Turn over, [ before gently nudging her to sprawl on her belly. Reveling in the slopes and swells of her body, its sweet idiosyncrasies. He drops kisses across the caramely expanse of her back. Mouthing the scattering of faint scars here and there, gnawing her at the soft spot between her shoulderblades; her spine is prominent as a dorsal ridge as he traces it with his tongue, down to the curve of her backside, his breath fanning hot across her skin. He bites her there, playful, taking a plump chunk of flesh between his teeth -- just as he slides a hand between her body and the mattress, palming her sex, teasing the moisture oozing between the pouty lips. ]
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