[ This isn't a good idea. He's taken enough chances already tonight, coming to the bar, macking on one of the local barflies, conversing with the bartender. Fucking Korra on top of it -- in a venue so risky -- seems like really pushing his luck. Except at this point, Hei is past consequence, past caring. Keeping himself under such perfect control, every impulse and emotion iced over, is like a degenerative brain-disease, roots spreading from his skull to every tight-wired joint. Worse, the past few days have been an endless pile of frustrations. Each time he's felt an impatience unleashing itself, and tamped it down. If it overwhelms him, he'll end up chasing thought to thought. He'll be able to form no plans. He'll have to go with the flow. And that's not his style. ]
[ Neither is this. But BK201 has always been the opposite of everything predictable. ]
[ Korra curls herself around him, her hips a shameless corkscrewing against the crux of his trousers, and Hei lets off a clenched-teeth hiss -- not approval but something almost like anger. He doesn't stop her when she strips off her shirt. Doesn't acknowledge the pert curl of her smile. Instead, he slings an arm around her, and scoops up her fallen blouse with the other hand. ]
[ There is a small greenhouse not too far out -- in creaky disrepair, more a place to stow away old equipment. Hei hauls Korra there, a careless manhandling, weaving between the long dusty tables, trowels, and boxes of expired slug poison. He drops Korra heavily on the bags of peat, the white plastic splitting in puffs of dust, and when his mouth catches hers again, a hard delving lick, he can taste the earthy grit of it on his tongue. ]
[ Breaking the kiss, he keeps her pinned, the web of his palm across her throat. No pressure, but the threat is implicit. The other hand wrenches up her sports bra. Perfect tits in the wan light, nipples dark, the fabric peeled back like wrapping to display them. Almost idly, he kneads her breasts, tweaking the nipples cruelly now and then, and kisses her mouth, biting at her lower-lip, sucking at her tongue, keeping at it until he knows the ache of frustration will flare as hotly inside her as any other sensation. ]
[ Because maybe it's true. They're both after the same thing. But that doesn't mean he's going to give her what she wants. Not the way she wants it. ]
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Date: 2015-03-28 01:44 am (UTC)[ Neither is this. But BK201 has always been the opposite of everything predictable. ]
[ Korra curls herself around him, her hips a shameless corkscrewing against the crux of his trousers, and Hei lets off a clenched-teeth hiss -- not approval but something almost like anger. He doesn't stop her when she strips off her shirt. Doesn't acknowledge the pert curl of her smile. Instead, he slings an arm around her, and scoops up her fallen blouse with the other hand. ]
[ There is a small greenhouse not too far out -- in creaky disrepair, more a place to stow away old equipment. Hei hauls Korra there, a careless manhandling, weaving between the long dusty tables, trowels, and boxes of expired slug poison. He drops Korra heavily on the bags of peat, the white plastic splitting in puffs of dust, and when his mouth catches hers again, a hard delving lick, he can taste the earthy grit of it on his tongue. ]
[ Breaking the kiss, he keeps her pinned, the web of his palm across her throat. No pressure, but the threat is implicit. The other hand wrenches up her sports bra. Perfect tits in the wan light, nipples dark, the fabric peeled back like wrapping to display them. Almost idly, he kneads her breasts, tweaking the nipples cruelly now and then, and kisses her mouth, biting at her lower-lip, sucking at her tongue, keeping at it until he knows the ache of frustration will flare as hotly inside her as any other sensation. ]
[ Because maybe it's true. They're both after the same thing. But that doesn't mean he's going to give her what she wants. Not the way she wants it. ]