Contractors don't dream...

[mortemscintilla]

WHO: Korra & Hei

WHAT: Down with the sickness.

[ Ever wondered what happens when the deadly Black Reaper is felled by the common cold? Look no further. ]

[ There is a lull in his search for Yin and Mao. He can't stand a lull -- he is het up, that fizzy-hot impatience crashing down his spine every hour on the hour -- he wants results on his search. He wants something solid -- a clue, a lead. Or, unable to have that, something to tear apart. Quiet makes him seethe. Quiet gives him a chance to think about whether or not Yin is alive, or sprawled facedown in a ditch, a tangle of broken white limbs and glassy eyes. Or worse, installed in some filthy den of vice like the thousands littering Republic City's bowels, where there is a nice little trade of girls who are frail and unwell in that unique way Yin is -- at least until she is cracked open, her life-force squeezed out like yolk, the remnants of her body flung aside like broken shards of eggshell. ]

[ The idea makes him grit his teeth. Yin and Mao have to be out there somewhere. If only he can be granted, for just one hour, a bird's-eye-view, an aerial perspective far above the city's rooftops but short of the obscuring clouds; and if only his teammates could wear unknowing red bullseyes, so that he can point down and say, Found you. ]

[ But stupid fantasies are not the way the world is. So he glowers at the dead ends his search yields, and stews and schemes and waits under his ten tons of dread. ]

[ While contending with his latest setback: a hellacious cold. ]

[ Sulky, mouth dry and nasal passages stuffed and aching, he tries to go about his routine. But when he walks he is dizzy, and has to grab the wall for balance. It's pathetic: it's been years since he's felt this shitty. Ordinarily he is defined by his jarring solidity, the sense he can weather any storm, forge onwards while others fall and die. ]

[ Look at him now. Weak as a kitten and slumped in bed, surrounded by sheaves of snotty tissues. Oooh, sexy. ]

[ Korra is in for a real treat when she gets back home. ]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

We should. Eventually.

[ But right now, as his gaze slews toward hers in the mirror, he doesn't bother to conceal that renewed spark of dark interest. ]

[ She melts back against him, fevery-hot and delicious, and he nuzzles the unruly crush of her hair, letting his hands roam. Down along the sweep of her shoulders and her well-formed back -- a display of lushly articulated muscle that tapers gently to a neat waist, following the long stem of spine down to where it clefts her ripe ass. The way he's pressed against her, all the way down, her bare skin against his clothes, he's sure she can feel him, his erection like a gun at her spine. ]

[ Fuzzy-headed, helpless, Hei gathers her hair out of the way, pressing a kiss to her nape. An invitation, but also a question. There's no pressure for her to indulge him if she's not in the mood. ]

[anatural]

[Korra has a sexy, flirty, funny response all ready — and then she sneezes. A wet, disgusting, run-for-a-tissue sneeze.]

Excuse me — [She pushes past him to grab a tissue and wipe her nose clean.] Ugh. Not the sexiest bodily fluid. [She tosses the tissue in the trashcan.]

Why don't we eat while the food's hot and then see how we feel. [She's pretty much always up for sex, even now, but she's sick enough that lust isn't overwhelming practicality.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Wow. The human body really is disgusting. The messy gunshot of a sneeze is enough to chop down a mighty oak at fifty paces. But Hei refrains from making any snide remarks, because Korra is closer in proximity to his balls than that. ]

Sure.

[ Feed a fever, starve a cold, isn't that the saying? Placing the dishes on a small tray table by the bed, he settles there crosslegged, patting the space beside him. Ladles out a thick dollop of the stew into a porcelain bowl, with a few plump morsels of seaweed-wrapped shrimp -- she really needs to introduce more greens into her diet -- and hands it to her. ]

Let's see you eat that up

[anatural]

[She got this far on her current diet. Besides which, she ate enough greens for several lifetimes while living on Air Temple Island. So there.

She settles down next to him and takes the bowl. Mmmmmmmm... One sip and she's letting out a moan just shy of orgasmic. She's learned how to be a fairly decent cook, but Hei really does have a talent for it.] This is amazing. [Om nom nom nom and oh she can feel her sinuses clearing up a little because of the spices magic food is magical]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Oh, you hopeless carnivore. Haven't you ever watched Bambi? Eating greens is a special treat, long ears and great big feet notwithstanding. ]

[ He's not sure whether it's a point of pride or shame that his cooking can wring noises from her at such a melting pitch that not even quality rutting accomplishes. Even so, a smile of grudging affection escapes him before he can flatten it. These few weeks, ever since returning, he's felt logy and slow-headed as a winter bear. Sparring and fucking are the only things that make him feel like there is some sense to this world. They pull his thoughts together, seeming to pull even the objects around him into a new, more manageable alignment. ]

[ The second activity is the weird intimacy of eating with Korra -- a silent ritual they'd established years ago in the City, and what was the catalyst of their actual affair. Half-naked at the bed, wearing nothing but her panties, all deliciously disordered and liquid-eyed, Korra crams food into her rounded mouth with the same enthusiasm as when she was seventeen. From over the rim of his bowl, Hei watches her, his quiet pleasure undiminished. ]

[ Fishing a red crinkle of cayenne pepper, he hands it to her. ]

Try this. It'll unstuff your nose.

[anatural]

[Oh come now, it's not like food ever makes her scream in that good way, or whimper with agonized pleasure. There's plenty of noises she only makes in bed...and usually only with Hei.]

I can't remember the last time I was sick. [Said conversationally, while she pops the pepper in her mouth and prepares another tissue to deal with the fallout.] Can't remember the last time you were sick either.

[mortemscintilla]

I don't get sick.

[ It's bitten off in a sulk, as he unpeels the popsicle wrapping and hands her one. It's true, at least, that he rarely develops the symptoms of illness or infection. Those that manifest burn themselves out in an eyeblink. He's always had a solid constitution. Even when he was a teenager in South America, just plain knobby-elbowed, scrape-kneed Hei, not yet the Black Reaper, diseases and choler passed him but rarely left a mark. As if he'd learnt the trick for switching off the pain in every part of his body, except the hunger gnawing at his belly and the blisters on his hands from handling weapons and ropes and wires. ]

[ A junkyard dog, Maxley would sneer. Mangy, stringy, half-feral -- but such dogs weren't frightened by pain and illness. They were frightened by thunder and fireworks and the vacuum cleaner, all the things their tiny brains couldn't quite comprehend. But their bodies were bred for a brutal utility. Even bloody and cleaved open, wounds festering with maggots, they would toe the scratch against a dog twice their size, with nothing in their minds but the flat and unflinching assurance of either death or victory. ]

[ Lately, though, Hei wonders how long this resilience is going to last. Would all this vigorous near-invincibility catch up to him suddenly one day, turn into some cancer that will rip through him in a month? He isn't sure. ]

[ Keeping the thoughts off his face, he mutters, ]

It's probably just a fluke.

[anatural]

[Korra pokes him with her toe.] Hey. You're sulking. No sulking. [She starts sucking on her popsicle in a way that may or may not be intentionally suggestive.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ First the breathless post-orgasmic moans as you slurped soup -- and now you're fellating a popsicle. You truly have an admirable talent for turning every innocent thing into a complex web of innuendo and mischief. ]

[ Blinking, Hei watches her for a moment, before his scowl melts into something a degree more intrigued. With the dull gnawing in his belly replaced by the heavy, comforting slosh of stew, and his sinuses marginally clearer, throat and head unclogged, he takes the chance to lean in and kiss her. The popsicle makes her lips slippery-cold. But her mouth is sweet and fever-hot. He can't help but burrow closer into the glowy heat she gives off, folding both arms around her to gather her in. ]

[anatural]

[Only sometimes!

It's hard to keep a grip on her popsicle when he wraps his arms around her and starts kissing. The popsicle ends up getting smushed between their chests, staining his shirt and dripping cold juice onto her breasts. She gasps as a particularly cold drop hits her nipple.]

You should...take off your shirt...

[mortemscintilla]

In a minute.

[ Hand in the middle of her sternum, gently shoving her flat. A smile flickers on his lips -- crooked, all-knowing. His shirt sticks wetly to his skin, the damp pink splotch like a small misshapen heart. But he's more interested in the splatter across Korra's breasts, their skin pebbled, one aureole already tight and darkly-springy from the shock of the cold. ]

[ Plucking the popsicle from her fingers, he crawls closer, legs on either side of hers, weight settling in. Then his mouth is there, the tongue a hot pointed wetness like a paintbrush, against Korra's neck, teeth tasting the arc, tongue laving it. One droplet of cold water drips from the popsicle, slipping down the warm cleft between her breasts, drawing a straight line down the indent of ribs, before trickling past her flank to stain the bedsheets. ]

[anatural]

Mmph! [Noooo seriously you need to have fewer clothes on, Hei. She whimpers and squirms at the twin tortures of his tongue and the cold water, but she's a woman on a mission. WIth her hands now freed, she reaches up to unbutton his shirt, trying at the same time not to get in the way of his mouth. He needs to have fewer clothes on, but she's not about to sacrifice her own pleasure for it. Not yet, at least.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Switching hands to hold the melting popsicle, icy drips of juice landing in little splatters across her torso, Hei strips off his gaping shirt as best as he can without breaking away from Korra's skin. Her soft sounds make blood beat strongly in his temples, his whole body seeming to burn with a smokeless heat, ]

[ Letting his shirt fall to the floor, too impatient to peel his pants off past his dangling belt ends, the undone top button on his fly, Hei props himself on one arm above Korra. With the other, he drags the melting tip of the popsicle delicately along the base of her throat, juice pooling in the hollow underlined by her clavicle. Swirls it along her breasts: the soft dent of her cleavage, the humid undersides, before tracing concentric whorls across her nipples, from the pebbly aureoles to the sensitive tips. When he's done, he leaves her sheened in juice, glistening obscenely. The sight makes heat chew into the wires of his brain: he can imagine replacing that stupid ice-lolly with his dick, a full-body rub, dirtysweet and playful. Straddling her and letting his dick skid across her face, her mouth, her neck and breasts, wherever it feels best to rub and thrust. ]

[anatural]

[It almost hurts, the icy popsicle against her burning skin. Korra whimpers, gasps, claws at the bed.]

C-cold... And you still have to take off your pants...

[She tugs on the fabric.]

[mortemscintilla]

One track mind.

[ But he obliges her, shucking out of his jeans with a bit of tricky one-handed coordination -- he's been trained to extricate himself from rappelling cords and parachutes, for crying out loud. He lets the denim fall with a heavy rustling thud, still gripping the dripping popsicle, juice making his fingers cool and sticky. He ignores the mess in favor of dipping his head, laving at the shining streaks across Korra's body, following with a hungry gnawing of teeth, his mouth a hot biting vacuum. Her skin tastes of cool watermelon, the sweetness muted by that salty, faintly alkaloid tang of her skin. Surprisingly tasty. ]

[ Head lowered, he worries at her nipples, licking them achingly stiff, biting, tugging them away from her breast then releasing them to repeat the process. Losing himself to the small, sweet crinkles of flesh under his tongue for a few unmeasured moments, before licking the traces of drying juice off the rest of her skin, until her breasts are moist with saliva, mottled with his blotchy red bites. ]

[anatural]

[One track mind is how things get done. If she didn't keep her focus on Hei's state of dress, he'd never get undressed. And she thinks it's pretty darn impressive that she's able to keep any kind of focus when he's mouthing her like that.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Oh, he plans to dissolve all remnants of that focus. The melting popsicle touches the bisecting indent of her ribs, and slips downward. Streaks a cold wet line across the pulsing shoal of Korra's belly, before dipping it into that little nub of her navel. Then lower, rubbing icy wet circles across her abdomen, the juts of her hips, painting a chilly swathe above the skewed band of her underwear. Then his mouth is back, hot tongue lapping at her, suckling the taste from her. ]

[ His eyes are closed, but each touch is unseeing, unerring, as if he's carved the map of her curves in bright relief into the back of his eyes. And in his mind, he can see her, her skin a shade of milky coffee in the watery sunlight of the blinds, pink smears on her body, splotches of the same on the white sheets beneath her. Slowly, Hei opens his eyes, Skates the tip of the popsicle lower, the juice shining on her skin, then soaking through the cotton gusset of her panties. His pores prick in anticipation of offering her a slow descent into heatless, blissful hell. ]

[anatural]

[And oh, she's descending all right, sinking into the bed, melting into the maddening heat. Her breaths come hard and heavy... then just hard. It's not arousal — it's snot. She tries to ignore it, but the congestion gets too bad. Groaning, she pushes herself onto her elbows.]

I can't breathe. [She finds an angle that helps clear her sinuses, but there's no way she can maintain it all by herself, especially while being worked over by Hei.] I need pillows.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Those slurpy little sniffles would be off-putting, if he weren't so fucking turned-on. For a moment he lets her contort herself this way and that. Trying -- then failing -- to find an angle that suits. Amused, he pops the ice lolly in his mouth. Clutches the curves of her peach-soft ass, fingers dimpling the flesh as he drags her until she's sitting up at the foot of the bed, sinuses obstructed. Tipping her a tiny, half-lidded smile, he lowers himself down her body, the cloud of dark hair tickling her breasts, the folds of her belly, until he's at the right angle between her widespread thighs. ]

[ Cupping the underside of her right knee, Hei coaxes her open wider. Draws the popsicle from his mouth -- a wet smack, quietly lewd. His knuckles skim her mound; the panties are moist and warm. Nuzzling the tiny crease of her navel with cool, red-stained lips, he runs the tip of the popsicle along her underwear. Across the line where her legs meet her groin, then touching her lower, dampening the already-soaked fabric as he slides the ice up her center line, between her lips, teasing up and down between her entrance and her clit. ]

[anatural]

Hei — I can’t breathe! [She thwacks his head, not that it seems to have any impact on him. He's nuzzling her belly, nipping her belly button, and acting in general like a pervy cat. It's annoying and arousing all at once.

He slides the popsicle against her damp panties, and she screams, briefly forgetting about the sickness and congestion. She kicks her legs, a frantic release of energy and tension.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's not sure he'll ever get tired of it -- that moment when her breath finally transmutes into voice, and starts melodiously climbing, her needy cries almost a shocked sound, a thrilling soprano. Gripping one flailing thigh, he wrenches her legs wider open. Digs his thumb down to feel the steely muscle underneath, a reminder of the fierce energy vibrating beneath all that curvy, mouth-watering softness. ]

[ With his other hand, he strokes the melting popsicle up over to where the stained gusset sits just above her clit, hidden in that tangle of damp curls -- before he pushes her panties to one side, exposing the plump lips of her sex, a furled peek of those obscenely slick pink folds beneath. Exhaling a humid gust of air across the sensitive skin, Hei slides the popsicle up, right up her slit, and back down again. Cool red liquid drips down the crack of her buttocks, staining the bedsheet beneath. He can't help a low, raw noise that scrapes his throat as her scent hits him, raw and tangy and oceany, a perfect foil to the cloying sweetness of the watermelon. He can't wait to test the melding flavors on his tongue. ]

[anatural]

[Korra would be amazed you can smell anything, Hei, considering the number of used tissues she came home to. She's fallen back to another angle that clogs up her sinuses, but his teasing has sapped her of all strength to hold herself up in another position. Panting turns to coughing turns into serious coughing when a little spit goes down the wrong pipe.]

Hold — up —

[mortemscintilla]

[ This is such a comedy of errors. Letting her go, Hei moves to rub her back as he chuckles at her, a sly little lip-twisty moue that says he's never going to let her live this down. At least until he's consumed by a coughing fit too, only for it to transform into a series of wet sneezes bursting from his nose. ]

[ It's a long moment before his lungs feel clear. Dropping with his back to the bed, sniffling, he squeezes his eyes shut until he is breathing slowly and without too much of a rasp in his throat. ]

We are ... so attractive.

[anatural]

Yeah. Being sick is real sexy. [She pulls a few tissues out for herself, then tosses the rest at him.] Ugh my head is killing me. [As is the knot of unreleased tension between her legs, but right now the headache is bothering her more. She's used to dealing with backed up sexual tension — because Hei is teasing her, because a crisis interrupts sex, etc. Headaches? Not something she usually gets unless a concussion is involved.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Grabbing the tissues, Hei blows his nose, a quick trumpeting succession. He's too backed-up to be embarrassed; his nose is all stuffed up, eyes stinging as if he's driven through clouds of ragweed pollen, and his head swims, all the blood pooling in his groin, where his erection strains against his boxers, a hotly radioactive throb. ]

[ Still, he's game enough to show Korra an off-kilter half-smile. Smoothing a palm down her belly, he wriggles it past the band of her panties, right between her thighs, finding her slick, her clit a swollen little nub under the rolling pad of his thumb. ]

I know a good cure for that. [ As he speaks, he slips a finger between her lips, an effortless glide through slick warmth. ] Helps migraines... Clears the complexion ... Or so I'm told.