You don't know how you got here

[mortemscintilla]

WHO: Korra and Hei.
WHAT: Two Contractors after a messy hit.

[ The assignment is complete. After a fashion. ]

[ The target's stretch limousine explodes, a time-bomb hurtling at eighty miles per hour. Hei verifies the detonation in the side-view mirror of their getaway van. The brilliant flames glow across the express lane, a bonfire on a humid July night, the deadly cacophony fifty yards behind him on the I-95. The ferocity from the detonation rolls through the atmosphere, juddering both sides of the interstate and adjacent roads like in a San Francisco earthquake. Brake lights flare in a screeching chorus. Behind Hei, beyond the blazing limousine, four lanes of interstate crowded with cars, trucks, and motorcycles careen to an ear-splitting halt, too late for speed demons to swerve and avoid flying debris. ]

[ Their van keeps going. The target is dead. The botched mission completed in less than forty-eight hours. The teflon-coated politician inside the limo had coasted through a dream-life of caviar and champagne, bodyguards at his side, girls in his lap, boys paid to shoot and kill and girls trained to smile and please. A man who didn't hesitate to have his enemies dragged to the desert and fed to the buzzards. ]

[ A prominent Syndicate faction had become one of his problems. And so the politician became one of theirs. ]

[ All BK201 knows is what he'd been briefed on, during the overseas assignment. And that, in itself, isn't much. The less the killing-machines knew, the better. What mattered was that they rectified the situation as they'd been ordered to. ]

[ The remote trigger that sparked blast is still in Hei's gloved hand. With a zzzt and a curl of smoke, he shorts it out. Tosses it out the window, while their van lurches from right lane to left lane to right lane, threading traffic like a bulky needle, becoming a fast-moving blur vanishing down I-95. Hei exhales, absorbing the metal's chill; the van is a freezer. Across him is the only other survivor of the hit: NC-108. Korra. Both their faces are crusted in dried blood, clothes grimy, hair in tufts. But everything else is intact -- unlike the rest of their teammates. The politician managed to weed them out before they'd fully infiltrated his base. Two were murdered in their hotel room by a hitman dressed as a waiter. The other three were machine-gunned on the street last night during dinner in a café by hostiles in police uniforms. The Syndicate is still recovering their mangled bodies. ]

[ Hei and Korra were advised to abort the operation and contact their respective handlers. Neither had bothered. Hei, because his inner-completionist refused to leave the job undone. Korra, because -- let's face it -- she has a streak, miles wide, that compels her to throw herself into the maelstrom of disaster, daredevilry the cover for an easy exit. During their firefight with the politician's hitmen, Hei had to drag her away a few times from almost certain disembowelment or death -- narrow saves that made Korra grin like she was high, the fevery glow off her skin like an irradiated firefly. ]

[ Hei can't say it bodes well. Not for her -- or her long-term career. ]

[ It doesn't matter. They've both succeeded at this mission. Five dead teammates equal five less cuts on the final payment. There's a tidy sum waiting for the two of them. A quarter of a million dollars, each. Hei's cellphone has already vibrated with the message: FUNDS TRANSFERRED. ]

[ It's a living, he thinks, gazing out the window with a sedate veneer but a tensile edge to his jaw. Forty-eight hours, five eliminated associates, and he's earned $250,000. And all it took was a few scrapes and bruises, a tricky full-immersion identity, and a block of old-fashioned C-4. ]

[ The Syndicate's safehouse is in an old motel, one of twelve pink stucco cottages strung out around a gravel parking lot. The cabin reeks of must, and like everything that night, humidly salty. Switching on the rattling air-conditioner, Hei conducts his careful sweep for bugs across the room. Satisfied, he shrugs off his coat -- stiff with caked blood -- before glancing impassively toward Korra, ]

Take the first shower.

[ He's not being a gentleman. But the widest window for enemy retaliation -- and the Syndicate's own post-mission clean-ups -- occurs in the twelve hours after the successful hit. If they're ambushed, Hei doesn't plan to be naked, dripping wet and unarmed. ]

Comments

[anatural]

[Except he is. She's broken the Black Reaper's iron-control, has him ready to maul her. The way he kisses her, the cruel twists to her nipples, even the hand around her throat — it's all perfect. Frustration is the sweetest ache.

She slides her hands down to the clasp of his pants. She doesn't want to just lie there and look pretty, after all — she wants to give as good as she gets.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Indulgence like this is a temptation Hei can rarely afford. He almost wonders what the repercussions for this mistake -- because it is a mistake -- will be. Except the thought is just a loose pinball rolling around in his skull and bouncing off the twinkling lights of his brain. Her hand slips down, and he lets it, breath hitching briefly in sync with hers, his teeth gnawing at the crook of her jaw, the rapid beat of her heart pulsing her neck vein. He's got both hands on her breasts now, heavy delicious weights, Stitching the nipples almost viciously, he clutches them hard before the first stinging slaps come, the flesh swaying beneath the hot shocks of the spanks -- heating, reddening. He's not afraid of hurting her. Learning to take pain is an important lesson -- they both know it, because they've been trained to deflect it and to dish it out. It comes in handy. ]

[ But in the next beat, he draws back, fingers gripping her waistband. Drags her jeans down her legs, a wadded-up constriction around her ankles. Dust drifts in shafts of weak light from the greenhouse glass. Even from this angle, he can see the plump cleft of her sex through her panties. Sopping-wet, the cotton molded to her labia. He tears the fabric down the middle, the underwear pulling away with a stinging snap of elastic. Dropping a hand between her thighs, he cups her there, a hard enveloping squeeze, the forefinger rubbing up and down rapidly over her clit. Then again comes the walloping slap between her legs, stinging the slick flesh -- cruelly, yet almost caressingly, as if punishing the plump wet lips, the taut nub of her clit. ]

[ Straightening, Hei steps back, shoes crunching on the gravel. His dick aches in his trousers; he unzips himself one-handed, drawing out his erection, moist-tipped and ruddy, stroking it with a slow twist of the wrist. The other hand reaches down and hauls Korra by the hair, draws her up off the bed of peat, his fingers tangled into the dark furry spill. ]

[ Flatly, ]

Let's see if that mouth is good for something besides backtalk.

[anatural]

[The slaps to her breasts get little more than grunts of pleasure-pain, but that hit between her legs -- an area already over-sensitized from frustration and the earlier thwarted fucking -- all but makes her scream. She chokes it back as best she can and, as he pulls away to undo his pants, takes the chance to catch her breath.

Dicks are such strange, funny things, especially with pale guys. The color difference between the rest of their skin and their erection is so different, it looks like someone else's penis. Hei's is much the same in that respect, a deep ruddy color, like a particularly nasty bruise. But it definitely looks like it belongs to him. Korra's never seen an angrier looking penis. She manages not to giggle... in part because he hauls her up and demands a blowjob in the most obnoxious way possible.]

Yes sir. [She mock salutes, then takes him in hand. It pulses angrily too, so she kisses the tip. She keeps her touches torturously soft, as though she's afraid she might break it, little kisses and licks and nuzzles.

Then she opens her throat and takes him in straight to the hilt.

She likes deep-throating; it's a skill she worked hard to acquire, and it's never failed to impress the men she's slept with. She likes to start without any movement, just swallowing and humming. Then of course it varies by lover, whether she goes fast or slow, how much she pulls out. For Hei, she pulls out all the way, until the tip barely remains inside. She grabs his hands and digs her nails in so he doesn't try to set the pace himself. He wants to see how good she is with her mouth? He'll have to stand back and watch.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei's gaze is downcast, darkly-lit, the smooth angles of his face reshaped into something taut, sharply-etched. He's had many, many blowjobs over the last eight years. Blowjobs that go on and on, blowjobs that have made him shoot like a geyser almost at once. Blowjobs that were hot, worshipful, angry, languorous, frenzied, ecstatic. But few quite like this. And it isn't just that the girl seems to have no gag reflex to speak of -- that he can stir his hips, fuck her mouth like a kid bouncing in and out on a trampoline, then dig in close, and tight, and slow, and the girl just takes it with a ravenous eagerness. It isn't even that unabashed enthusiasm as she laps at him, her tongue small and pink, hot and wet, flicking over the tip like a lollipop -- a mesmerizing jumble of lewd and innocent. ]

[ It isn't all that. Or -- yeah, it is part of it. But what it mostly is ... is that gaze. ]

[ Her eyes are bright with an infinitude of playfulness. Like she's actually fucking enjoying this. Like the filthy goings-on have completely bypassed her psyche, like it's just the pure fun that has penetrated something in that hard, whorish Contractor's shell, and sparked her desire to show off and please. ]

[ Hei doesn't know. All in all, it's a disconcerting reminder that she's less a Contractor than an ordinary, fresh-faced girl. ]

[ He jerks her hands off his. But he doesn't grab her hair and take charge, either. His palms stay curved around her skull, bracing rather than commanding, fingers curling and uncurling through her hair as he gusts out jittery breaths. His gaze stays fixed on the sight of her, on her knees, all liquid blue eyes and hollowed cheeks and glossy full-lipped mouth. His dick is heated and achy: each time she gulps it down, it twitches from root to tip, the balls a heavy tightening throb. ]

[ When his whole body is nearly at the edge,exultant and throbbing in every particle, he fists his hands in her hair. Tugs in a mute order to stop, drawing his dick out, glazed with her saliva, the tip smearing pre-come across her chin. Tempting to spill into her waiting mouth, as wildly on edge as he is. But he stops in time with a brutal squeeze behind the head. Swallows, drawing in deep breaths, forcing himself to relax, the tension in his sinews melting as if he's been given a sedative. ]

[ All that remains is the dark potential flowing through the air around him, natural and ordinary. ]

Not bad.

[ But she'll have to try harder to establish the upper-hand. Dragging her to her feet by a loose bunch of her hair, Hei's other arm wraps like a restraining bar around her waist -- right before she is lifted and tumbled back onto the bed of peat-sacks. In the cloud of grit, Hei tugs off her boots, before stripping her jeans down all the way. Eyes the lush sprawl of her body, more speculative than greedy, before he grabs her legs with a manacling grip at the ankles and slings them over his shoulders. Gripping her buttocks for a handhold, fingers digging viciously into the pliant flesh, he hauls her up so she's practically dangling upside down, just the weight of her skull and the spill of dark hair across the sacks. ]

[ The gleaming folds of her sex are right at his mouth: the inner-lips like a glistening pink conch, clitoris poking from its hood hard as a polished pebble, everything framed by a riot of dewy black curls. The pungency of her scent wafts through his head. Not off-putting, the way it is when he goes down on some women. Hers is rich, heavy -- and as he laps at her with the flat of his tongue, back to front, delightfully salty. ]

[anatural]

[It is fun. Korra's had more than a few bad fucks, of course, but nothing to taint the idea of sex for her. She gave her virginity to a girl in her village a few years before being dragged into the Syndicate's world. And even as a Syndicate operative, she's never had to sell herself, or been forced to sleep with anyone she didn't choose. For her, sex is just plain fun — even sex with someone she hates.

She moans quietly as he goes down on her. The ridiculously uncomfortable angle doesn't matter — just the fact of getting eaten out is a pleasant surprise. That twerp who couldn't even keep his dick hard would never have done this. Sex for him (and for a lot of her impulse one-night stands, really) was all about dick in hole. Who knew that the Black Reaper would be into more?

And fuck he is good at it. Her arms aren't long enough to grab his hair, so she latches onto his forearms, digs into his skin. Her hips move instinctively, trying to fuck his tongue. She can feel the pressure building up just below her belly; all it will take is one little push for her to explode like a geyser.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ For Hei, sex is little more than a commodity, a tool to get a job done. He's reached a saturation point -- like everyone in the business does, whether they're a recruiter or a grunt, a provocateur or a raven. He's spun more lies than a spider constructing a skyscraper of webs, faked more desire than a boytoy for an octogenarian billionaire, smelled so much sex it's permeated his nostrils the way smoke will permeate a wool sweater -- while biting back the cold awareness that the lust, the actual heat-haze of passion, is completely absent. No one in his trade is ever getting off -- but they are all scheming of getting out, getting up, getting ahead, with the right opportunities or info. ]

[ When you reach that point, about the only thing that gives you a boner anymore is a hot shower, good Szechuan takeout, and an empty evening of stargazing. His mind has blurred sexuality and operational necessity together, so all that remains during the act is the tedium, the careful self-awareness, the borderline loathing felt by any stymied perfectionist trapped in any dead-end occupation. ]

[ So this -- Korra's deranged innocence, those flashes of kittenish wickedness that are entirely unfaked ... They're disquieting. Unnatural. He almost wants to wrap each detail in paper, to tuck it away in the folds of his memory -- a rarefied novelty flung down from outerspace. ]

[ Forcibly, he dismisses it as one of those high-pitched sexual thoughts. (Ironic in itself. It's been ages since he's even had those). ]

[ In his brutal grip, Korra twitches and jerks like a marionette, tossing her pretty head in a dark storm-tumbled heap. Her cries are the same: like aching, humid, hurricane-threatening weather. He can tell how close she is: her thighs are buttery-slick against his skull, sweat-sheened and smothering, the tendons taut as wires: his mouth buried against that wet heaving sex, opening her with thick messy stabs of tongue between sucking on her clit every once in a while, letting her feel the edge of his teeth. Winding her up, higher and higher, until she's wildly on edge, at the tip of climax -- ]

[ Then he drops her back across the sacks -- a puff of dust and a lovely spill of limbs, her face all shiny and reddened in its tangle of hair. It's a mutual cruelty: he hasn't come yet, either. His erection bobs full and stiff from his groin, impossibly needy. Dragging his belt free from the loops, he reaches out with the other hand, dragging her up before she can break through the fever-fog and make vile eyes of outrage at him. He deposits her across the smooth gritty floor, on her hands and knees, pressing her neck down and forcing her thighs wide apart. ]

[ The belt wallops across her buttocks -- a single, stinging-hot blow -- before he says, ]

Count. [ Another whack, jolting her to his directive. ] Count back from twenty-one.

[ Twenty-one hours. That's how long they have until they meet their contact and split ways. That's how long he's got until he's done glutting himself on that voluptuous little peach of her body. ]

[anatural]

[Operational necessity to spend twenty-one hours fucking her senseless? Is that what they're calling it these days.

He's smart to move as quickly as he does — she almost breathes fire on him when he stops short of her orgasm. He shoves her to the floor, and she tastes blood in her mouth. Her nipples are so stiff, they feel like blades being thrust into her breasts by the press of the floor. Everything hurts and it's exactly what she wants.]

FUCK! [It's a strangled scream as he hits her, making her body shudder. She blinks back tears and tries to get the traction to buck her hips up.]

Do those — two count? [She's pretty sure they don't, but she wants to show that she's not cowed just because he's got her pinned by the neck with a belt to her ass.]

[mortemscintilla]

Don't ask stupid questions.

[ That's an eloquent No. ]

[ His hand covers her bottom for a moment, fingers pressing into her flesh, squeezing her buttocks together. His pulse is fevery but he's almost getting chills at how sweet and perfect her ass is, a dark ripe curve like an apple to bite into, her back glistening under a sheen of sweat, the fragile stem of her neck and the dark corona of hair spilling from the curve of her skull. Her body is practically buzzing: that scream of hers, at the first wallop, seems to have connected a circuit and proved that her body is primed for shocks and sparks. ]

[ He plans to give her plenty. ]

[ Then his hand thrusts her bottom up so high that her forehead is sealed to the floor, her breasts crushed against the grainy surface. And without warning the belt comes cracking down, the strokes noisy and rhythmic. Again, then again, spacing out to when she counts off, one great hard slap then another falls, stinging the flesh of her thighs, the curve of her buttocks, one burning cheek then the other, the skin seeming to ignite to a gorgeously blotchy red under the blows. ]

[ But no matter how he busies himself to tormenting tender spots, he returns always to her sex, the belt strap smacking her little mound over and over, the leather scraping her clit, and the harder the blows come the more the juices in her seem to surge, until he almost can't hear the crack against the slick lips -- it's all an undifferentiated, sloppy-wet blur, the fierce blows seeming to shape themselves to her as they spank her. ]

[ Twenty-one strokes, and they are done. ]

[ Panting lightly, Hei lets the belt drop to the floor. He gives Korra barely a heartbeat to compose herself, stroking the inflamed curve of her ass while his own ricocheting pulse eases. In the next blink, he's hauled her up by one of her biceps, wrenching her around to bite off that inevitable saucy stream of words before they blossom. To bite those delicious lips, that little pink tongue. ]

[ Shoving her against the edge of a crude wooden table, face-first, he grabs the torn strip of her panties, with the sort of ironic flourish of hand that a magician uses to pull scarves out of hats -- before stuffing it into her mouth. Not a gag, but a noise-muffler. ]

[ She's going to need it. One palm splayed across her tailbone, pinning her down, he suits himself up with a condom with the other. His cock, sheathed, darkens all the more and bobs as if trying to pull him forward. Hei obeys the compulsion, though his handling is carefully controlled as he spreads Korra's thighs wider, erection nosing against her dripping sex -- then thrusts in with no restraint, the flaring head hardly enough of a greeting to smooth entry for the rest of him. ]

[anatural]

[Korra can't help making a face when he shoves the panties in her mouth -- they taste terrible. She's never much cared for her own flavor, and this is her flavor mixed with sweat, cotton, and maybe the faintest hint of Mr. Disappointment. It knocks her out of the stratosphere his brutal spanking had sent her flying out to.

Then he thrusts inside her with one deep stroke and she doesn't care. Maybe Mr. Disappointment had served a purpose, helping her loosen up so she could take Hei in like this. Fuck, this is what she wanted, not just today but since that first night when he shut down her invitations. Her abused flesh cries out in pain where he pushes against her, which only makes her buck harder against him.

We could have been fucking like this all week, she wants to tell him, except she's too busy screaming. Doggy style is one of her favorite positions... She loves the wild, animalistic nature of it. (She also uses it as shorthand for her one night stands, an easy way to tell them don't get attached without getting into a lady-boner killer conversation about feelings and expectations.) She bucks her hips and writhes against the table, going mad with pleasure.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ One of his favorite positions too -- but largely for the anonymity, the ease of access, the control. Everything hidden, all of it out of sight and out of mind, but ready to service his lust. ]

[ Except the moment he sinks into her, balls-deep, breathing in short, shocky gasps, all the thoughts gathering quietly under the surface of his mind white out -- a perfect, blown-apart blankness. She feels so fucking good. Everything he's never allowed himself to imagine. Searingly hot, impossibly tight -- she has to have one of the most divine little cunts he's been in. ]

[ Her scream is a live-wire jolt thundering up his spine. She surges back against him, shameless and pliant, gorgeously lust-crippled, her skin yielding a sheen of sweat everywhere. With brutal hands, Hei grips her hips, hitching himself in deeper. Almost lazily traces and kneads the curves of her body -- ass, thighs, spine, ribs, breasts, with a map of ownership. His prick feels enormous, throbbing, filthy with lust, and the way he rides into her is relentless, hard slapping thrusts that rattle the table in a never-faltering rhythm. One hand seizes the spill of her hair, winding it tight in his fist, gripping it like reins, cowboy style, the fingers of the other hand sharp as spurs in her hips. ]

[ Her whole body seems to gulp at his, a liquid peristalsis. So fucking hot -- and he knows he isn't going to last long. But it is a ghost of a thought; he doesn't give a shit. Doesn't care if she comes or not either. If it happens: hoo fucking ray. If not: her nut, her business. ]

[ All he's interested in is the thrill of the ride. In the wicked flash of supremacy as she's forced to take him inside, that sweet yielding clench of inner-muscle. At setting a ruthless pace to make those snapping blue eyes of hers glaze over and her body go boneless and aching and helpless as a kitten being carried by the scruff. ]

[anatural]

[The one problem with this position -- one that dawns on her slowly, because she loves the feeling of something inside her, filling her, pounding her -- is the way it neglects her clit. She is hot and horny and feeling amazing, but it's stalled. She needs more stimulation if she's going to come. Hei isn't doing anything to remedy that (no surprise), and shoved up against the table like this, she can't take care of it herself.]

Back up. [She pushes her hips back, trying to make some room for her to touch herself without breaking her wrist against the table.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei's lips curl against the crook of her neck -- too sharp to be a real smile. It's cute how she thinks she's calling the shots. Her entire body seems to flutter in demand, grinding back, rocking those smooth little buttocks against him, over and over. Her voice thrums heavily in her throat with a frustrated despair. She is being well used, but her little clitoris isn't being touched by his cock, he knows. Not that he cares. He just wants this: the friction, the force of him grinding her against the table, her heat and her cries cutting that straining knot of anger inside him. ]

[ When she whips her hand down, he catches it before she can touch herself. Brings it back to the table, his arm outstretched to lay its grip across her wrist. Gnawing the vulnerable line of her neck, he draws more tightly against her, their bodies damp all over with sweat, whip-tense, his gaze alongside hers, so he can see her stymied excitement, her struggle. ]

[ With the other hand, he reaches down, between her thighs, teasing her clit with his fingers as he drives into her from behind -- each touch too light, too brief. Winding her higher, then leaving her quivering on the edge of the precipice, rocked by his increasingly ruthless thrusts that aren't just keeping her there but are, particle by slow particle of pleasure, drawing him inexorably towards his own fall. ]

I'm picturing him whipping out a surprise chastity belt after this

[anatural]

[Hey, she doesn't care who touches her, as long as one of them does. Though that changes as soon as he starts teasing her and she realizes he's not just indifferent to her orgasm — he's not going to let her come. He's going to blow his wad and leave her sore, bruised, and choking on frustrated desire.

Fuck. This is taking orgasm denial to a whole new level — from hot frustration that makes the eventual climax all the more satisfying to sexual torture. If he tries to leave her like this, she's going to freeze his balls in ice and set the rest of him on fire, then go into the cantina and fuck the first person who promises to make her come. She's been dying for this orgasm all week. She's not going to let the Black Reaper reaper it.]

/STOMPS ALL OVER RL TO NOM HER TASTY HEIRRA TAGS

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's not planning to leave her like this -- interminably. Hard to begrudge her the small happiness she seems to wring from meaningless touch, from this small seductive victory. But he's not going to give her the easy exit of immediate gratification, either. If there's anything this little encounter has taught him, it's that she's startlingly easy to please. Strange, because someone so warped and sick of existence as she often seems to be would find it hard to come, but it's like she's got a knack for sex, a well of orgasms on tap, and she seems to like his touch -- or anyone's touch, for that matter -- leaning back against him the way a woman slides into a coat as you help her. ]

[ The realization grips Hei with that red-hot, specific need to explore every facet. Or as much as the next few hours will allow. Did she really think she'd get off that easy -- literally, figuratively? The past few days have built up a merciless pressure inside him. And this latest distraction has got him plenty interested. ]

[ New toys are always interesting. ]

[ He is pushing hard and fast, gasping and dizzy as the table jerks and tree pruners and Garden Weasels shake off their hooks, the two of them rocking together and his fingers tattooing dark bruises into her skin, whole body losing track of any pleasure but his own. With each thrust, it is as if he leaps up another flight of stairs in a headlong chase toward his prey. Crashtackling it -- surging toward climax, his nerve-endings shrieking a helpless chant of Yes after Yes. ]

[ Panting, he sags for a moment against her, embracing that warm sweat-sticky little body. Exhale-inhales deeply, until his heartbeat slows, and then his breaths judder into very brief, very silent laughter, as if he's just finished a race and won. ]

/TACKLES

[anatural]

[Not being attached to life isn't the same thing as being sick of it, a fact which seems to elude Hei. There is plenty to enjoy in life, like sex and good food and cool crisp days and walks with Naga. But death offers freedom, which is why she doesn't fear it.

He comes and she almost howls, frustration and ache and need.] You're not finished. [She yanks her arm free from his grip and grabs for one of his hands, determined to shove it between her legs. She's going to come, God damn it. She's going to get her satisfaction.]

/CHUUUU

[mortemscintilla]

[ Breathless and buzzed, Hei lets her grab his hand and bring it to her sex. But it accomplishes nothing; he is intent on playing with her. She is so wet -- fucking sopping -- and he buries his fingers inside her, strokes her twitchy clit with his thumb, an aimless lazy flicking. Just enough to feed hitches in her breathing before each exhale thins out further, rekindling that shivery ache through her, the tremor that is the whisper of fulfillment -- ]

[ In the next beat, he draws his hand away. ]

You don't tell me what to do.

[ Not a rebuke but a cool dismissal. He straightens and steadies and withdraws, the brisk lift of zipper punctuating his words. The condom, he disposes with one bright zap, leaving it an acrid-scented curl across the ground. No reason to leave DNA traces. ]

[ Doing up his belt, he straightens his clothes before reaching out with one hand, hauling her around by a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck. He looms over her, the angles of his face hardening to blot out whatever private satisfaction was there, and when he leans in, it's not a kiss so much as a bite. He cradles her head in his hands like a heavy inanimate object, drawing viciously on her lips, opening them, stabbing his tongue into her -- and then abruptly letting her go. ]

Get dressed. You're coming back to the hotel with me.

/smooches

[anatural]

[She is going to kill him. She is going to kill him so dead. She calls up a ball of flame, thinking about how she wanted to burn him alive -- and just as quickly lets it die. She's not irrational, after all. This is no place, and she's in no state for, a fight, particularly with BK-201.

Besides, that hard biting kiss shows he's no musket -- he's got a few rounds left. If all of them are as intense as the fuck they just had, she'll be very well satisfied.

Still, she doesn't move when he gives his little command.]

Why should I?

u////u<3

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei doesn't answer her. He just jerks her to her feet, her hair wound around his left hand, so she's pressed close to him. So her tight little nipples rub against the thick fabric of his coat, and the cold buckle of his belt burns the hot skin of her belly. He lets her see his face crease into a slow half-smile as his knee presses against hurting sex, teasing its hunger. ]

[ Dipping his head, he licks her lips -- a fast swipe that's both a promise and threat -- before breathing in her ear. ]

If you don't move, I'm going to make you beg like a bitch. I'll make you crawl and cry for it and then I'm going to jerk off in your face. [ Quieter, the alternative spoken in a hot tender nuzzling against the sensitive crook of her jaw. ] Come back with me -- and I'll give you what you want. As many times as you want it.

[ At least until he's done todging every last stretchable orifice in that sweet little body, all the long miserable days and restless nights on the road drained into her. ]

[anatural]

[She can't keep herself from moaning as he grinds against her. Fuck but she needs this so badly.]

Don't make a promise you can't keep.

[She tugs down her bra, wiggles into her pants and boots, and tugs her shirt back over her head, forcing the desire down into a dark box, to be re-opened back at the hotel.]

So let's go. [She slaps his ass for good measure.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He grabs her wrist, wrenching her close with his arm looped around her shoulders -- to all appearances a sweet and spoony couple on their way home. Only Korra will feel the the bite of his fingers against her flesh, their warning implicit. Outwardly, he stays unperturbed -- bland of expression and unhurried in stride. The cantina's music fades to a wafting tinkle as they drift away. The pre-dawn sky is so strange; its color, unlike in Tokyo, with its green aurora borealis hues and its proximity to the Gate, is more of a diffuse purple. The skies everywhere else are like that too: a dim monotone color; they don't press down with the same palpable weight. ]

[ At the hotel, he conducts his instinctive sweep of the entrance, the corridors, the stairs. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that's any different from the way they'd left it. A dim light burns the vestibule orange: unlocking the door and herding Korra through it, Hei regards her in passing. Wildly pretty, dark-haired and mussed, an innocent face and an oddly voluptuous body. A mess of incongruities, inside and out, yet nothing especially singular. Her face could be anyone's face. In the dark, face-down and pillow-muffled across the bed, Hei thinks he could imagine her as anyone he wants. ]

[ Except he doesn't want to imagine anyone. ]

[ The door clicks shut. In a blink he's flowed behind her, both hands gripping her shoulders, then sliding down to palm her breasts, pinching her nipples sharply through her blouse, holding her immobile to maul her neck -- without consideration, but without particular hurry, either. After the first lightning bout, it's clear he has a more leisurely and thorough ravaging planned. ]

[anatural]

[Korra lets him maul her breasts and neck while she undoes her pants. Once they're unzipped, she twists around and hooks her leg around his, pressing herself against his thigh.

She doesn't even think about pretending he's someone else; that's not how she operates. That shit's for people with active imaginations and low standards. Korra fucks exactly who she wants to fuck. Dick is abundant and low value. And there is something a little intoxicating about it being him in particular. Struggling with him gives her the same rush she felt when they first fought, before he destroyed her life. She fights; he wins, but instead of destruction she gets mind-blowing sex. The psychology of it would be fascinating, if she cared about that sort of thing.

But she doesn't. She just wraps her arms around him and presses herself closer.]

I believe someone promised me what I want. As many times as I want it.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei would prefer not to ponder the psychology at all. That way lies that familiar twinge in his chest: a twist of meaningless regret. And something darker tangled with that. A quiet homesickness. All the wrong things to feel, but he can't stop feeling them. Or maybe they aren't the wrong things at all; he isn't sure. His moral radar is broken, his emotional thermostat well and truly fucked up long before he became a Contractor. Since Pai vanished -- or before that -- it's been one mistake after another, monumental or mundane. He can't remember any more what is right and what isn't. ]

[ Part of him knows this isn't right, though. He's snatched Korra out of her happy cradle of normalcy, and tossed her into a snake-pit. Fucking her on top of that ... not once but over and over ... Has he really descended right through that nacreous spectrum of right and wrong? ]

[ He doesn't know. But -- fuck, he appreciates what a delicious mouthful the girl is. ]

[ She curls around him, a lewd moist ribboning of arms and legs. Hei doesn't answer her. Slinging an arm around her, he hitches her roughly closer -- a hefty but welcome baggage. Walking deeper into the room, he is already undressing her, yanking her blouse and her bra off over her head, tugging off her boots, wadding and chucking her trousers at the floor. His dick is at half-mast from his jeans. Unbuttoning his shirt first with brisk fingers, he shucks those off too, before depositing Korra heavily at the edge of the bed, eyeing the voluptuous sprawl of her. ]

Lie back. Spread your legs.

[ Iron edges his order. But with it is a renewed hunger. ]

[anatural]

[It's what, a 15 minute walk from the cantina? Short refractory period — Korra appreciates that in a man. She smiles and rests her hand on her hands before slowly obeying his demand. Her hips are already undulating in a silent plea, but it comes off more as teasing than desperate.]

Are you going to put that tongue of yours to good use?

[The only wrong thing to do in this situation is to not take Korra as the master of her own desires. Stuff that paternalism where the sun don't shine.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's at the age where there are three things in particular that any fighter in-field misses when they're older: being sharp-eyed enough to take out a dime-size target at five hundred yards in low light. Being spry enough to run up a dozen flight of stairs without getting winded. Being young enough to get wood as quick as a fourteen-year-old with a can of Red Bull and a porn video -- but with enough stamina to make the most of it. Exercise is the key: privately he's always thought the pencil-necked needle-dicks and the grizzled old farts with ED should join a gym or a boxing club. A round of sparring beats that little blue pill all to hell. ]

[ His eyes track the sinuous tick-tocking of her body, a sweetly secret countdown, her hips rippling as if to feed herself to him. But he doesn't reach for her -- or rise to her taunt, his own words impudently flung back at him. A pair of hotel robes lie puddled on a nearby chair. Walking over to them, he pulls the belt off the first robe, before reaching out and grabbing Korra's wrists. Binding them tightly, he secures them to one of the bedposts in a sturdy square knot with his teeth. Wrenches the belt off the second robe, slicing it in half with his switchblade, before her body is stretched to its full length as her ankles are now tied. ]

[ Trussed and spread-eagled, she is like a ripe fruit on display. She has plenty of room to toss and turn, bend her arms and legs -- but she is also utterly rigid, utterly bound, a tight and helpless thing unable to shield her breasts or the glistening pink bit peeping between the scrim of dark curls at her sex. ]

[ The sight of her at his mercy feeds his cock stiffly upright, tucked against his belly. When he finally condescends to touch her, it's idle, almost offhand. Cool fingers coasting her inner-thighs, forcing them wider apart, as wide as they'll go. He flows to his knees at the foot of the bed, his mouth hovering between her legs, only inches above her swollen and mercilessly revealed sex. Her scent -- warm, saltine, heavy -- makes the air sharp. ]

[ He doesn't touch her. His humid breath ruffles her damp curls -- a deliberate tease. Payback for her earlier remark. ]

[anatural]

[Helpless? Bitch please. She could break out of these bonds easily with her ridiculous strength — or simply burn them off. That's why she lets him tie her up with nothing more than a token resistance. She's only as helpless as she chooses to be.

She likes how much he's clearly enjoying it, his angry little cock standing completely at attention. Considering what a dick he is, it seems appropriate that his dick is his most expressive body part. Any other time and she would love to watch him touch himself as he looks at her. (She used to do that to Mako — make him masturbate to her naked body. She loved how shy he was about it, how frustrated and needy it made him.) Right now she's too needy herself for that kind of sexual teasing.

She closes her eyes and lets out a ragged sigh as he moves between her legs. But he doesn't touch her. She growls and bucks her hips.]

Pussies aren't just for looking, you know.