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]

[She's not even aware when her climax comes - her mind goes completely blank while her body seizes. She comes back to awareness slowly, her body still shuddering. It's another long moment before she realizes she's been screaming, and that those agonized whimpers are coming from her throat.

And she's sobbing. The intensity of her release is enough to bring tears to her eyes as she gasps for air. God that was amazing... She'd even tell him that if she could find the strength to talk, but her every muscle has been sapped of strength. The ties are the only things keeping her from melting into the bed.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Her scream makes Hei's breath rattle in his chest -- a wing-beat thumping rhythm. He stays with her through her climax, feeding on her helpless convulsions, her thighs taut and trembling against the bonds, watching with unblinking eyes as her body unravels into relaxation. His dick has been tormented to a blood-rouged fullness, and rolls hotly near the damp skin of his abs. Dropping one hand, he manhandles it with an unweildly sharpness, thumb squeezing the notched ache at the head, forcing the pressure to subside in dizzying stages. ]

[ Idly, his gaze drifts across Korra's replete body, the sweat-lank hair and flush-sheened skin, the tears trickling at the corners of her eyes. A picture of debauched satiation, a weakness that seems to have nothing to do with the tremors in her limbs or her sweet glow of exhaustion. ]

[ Hei waits until her pulse has slowed, her breaths coming long and low. Cupping a hand around her kneecaps, he runs his palms up her thighs, spreading them wide. Then he starts again. Lightly, delicately, he works her seeping, sensitive flesh. Takes great care not to over-stimulate or abrade; it wouldn't do to have raw nerves reduce her eagerness or add unneeded pain to the stimulation. Lapping at her entrance with the flat of his tongue, over and over, before flicking the tip across the swollen bead of her clit. Letting her feel the swollen juiciness of her own flesh, but not hurrying to fall into any particular rhythm -- or at least any that isn't his own. ]

[anatural]

[He's actually considering her eagerness and her pain? It would be unexpectedly thoughtful, if Korra registered he was doing it. As far as she can tell, he just enjoys torturing her. In the best ways, of course. She's definitely enjoyed the torture he's put her through (especially since he finally let her come), but she never thought he was going after anything but control.

She whimpers as he starts up again. She's never had a guy try to bring her to orgasm again when the first one has barely faded. She tugs hard on her bonds — not seriously trying to break free, but she's definitely feeling the frustration of limited mobility.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Who says consideration and control should preclude each other? It isn't that Hei is particularly interested in his partner's pleasure, unless there's something he's angling for, or unless he's especially fond of them. Since that mess with Amber, it's often difficult for him to care for anyone other than himself. But it's a matter of doing the goddamn job right, to his way of thinking. She isn't some whore he's paid for the night: the dynamic of those encounters is entirely distinct. As a trick, you're not there to satisfy the girl or make her feel good or show her a hot time. You're there to be serviced. Period. The pleasure is totally one sided: your side. Which is as it should be since you are paying for it. ]

[ Taking charge of a casual fling, though ... That's different. Being in the driver's seat doesn't excuse you from the responsibility of caring whether your partner gets off. The opposite: the obligation of when where how rests purely in your hands. He's known so many young men who purport that they're born wielding the whip hand, but who are just so immature and insecure about their skills in bed, they figure the way to avoid proving themselves is by completely ignoring their partner's experience, and hiding the tactic under the guise of being in charge. ]

[ That's just being a lousy lay. ]

[ She whimpers, and it's almost charming -- that pitch of sweet distress, as if she's an anguished kitten who won't get what she wants. Idly, he wonders if she's ever been eaten out by anyone with the patience to do it up properly -- or the brutal strength to hold her legs apart with or without restraints, so she can thrash and buck to her heart's content. Her sex is a dripping little peach under his lapping tongue, pouting through its sodden clump of curls. He'll probably find bothersome little hairs caught in his teeth afterwards -- but right now he's focused entirely on this. Winding her higher, then easing off, only to wind her higher again, until her breathing is that familiar, jittery apassionato jag. ]

[anatural]

[Of course they don't preclude each other, but everything she knows about him led her to believe he wouldn't care. The Black Reaper is the master of death... Who knew he was also a master in the bedroom?

And really good at making her scream, Jesus. She doesn't know whether she's going to lose her mind or her voice first. She gasps, babbles curses, and nearly jumps out of her skin when one of the bedposts cracks.]

...oops.

[mortemscintilla]

[ At the craaack, Hei blinks, jerking up, before his bewildered look is replaced by a quiet, half-shuttered amusement. She really is a fucking ball of destruction -- yet there's something so entrancingly childlike about her, so besotted and beautiful: the way she takes her pleasure like it's messy rough-and-tumble play -- pure joy -- and not the grim power-struggle it seems to be for most Contractors, punctuated by bizarre rituals and repulsive fetishes. ]

[ Or maybe it's Hei's sex life -- such as it is -- that's the anomaly, and he doesn't know why he's even thinking about this, but he likes her on her back, trembling and waiting. ]

[ He doesn't remark on the broken bedpost -- although that's going to come out of her cut later. Dragging her closer by her hips, he dips his head unseen to mouth her damp inner-thighs, her belly, the wet scrim of curls at her mons, before closing on the heat between her legs again in a soft wide kiss. He doesn't tease anymore. He hums right through her, a lewdly vile growl of impatience, his tongue dragging at her clit with rapid relentless flicks. Sometimes forcing her open with slick stabs of tongue, sometimes lapping at her from back to front, then in reverse, before sealing his entire mouth over her sex, sucking with a shamelessly fierce pressure as he works first one finger into her weeping entrance, then two, while his pinkie and ring finger nudge with gentle but possessive inroads into the pucker of her ass. ]

[anatural]

[This orgasm is even more intense than the first - the frustrated pressure from before replaced with traces of pain from her over sensitized flesh. It wrecks every bone in her body, leaving her genuinely helpless and weak.]

If you want to kill me... [She barely manages to get the words out, as breathless as she is.] Now would be the perfect time. I bet you kill all the girls like that.

[mortemscintilla]

[ The way she comes makes Hei's eyes narrow, darken, staring in consuming fascination. He can feel the heat pouring across his face, his stunned body slowing for a flickering pulse-beat before kicking into overdrive -- buzzed and unltrastimmied. Breathing roughly, he drops one hand into his own lap, takes hold of his cock. His fingers are moist with oozing pre-come; the friction of each tug is electric, almost too much. ]

[ He doesn't undo her bindings yet. He just crawls over her, up onto the bed, sleeking his cheek from navel to ribs, his bristles rasping across her damp skin. Laps at the undersides of her breasts, where they hang on her ribs, tasting her salt, before he mouths wetly at her pebble-hard nipples. ]

[ Her words sink into him with a frisson of disquiet. He's made kills this way -- he won't deny it. Not many, because he prefers not to be entrenched in the messy business of the flesh-trade if and when he can help it. Sex is a tool, like any other tool: the point is to foster a bond of intimacy with your target. Contrary to popular imagination, emotional safecracking is much more about softness and seduction than it is about torture. ]

[ Korra isn't a target, though. She's just a girl. A hopeless girl seducing her own destruction. Except, here and now, she'll have to look elsewhere. ]

[ He covers her slowly, a bridge of sleek, damp muscle. Stirs his hips a little, so that his cock rides between her slick mons, open between her widespread thighs. Propped on one elbow, he touches her with the fingers of the other hand, tips drifting across her hair and skin. But it's not tender. His expression is hard-edged, marginally curious. He might be carving a particularly juicy roast or dissecting a strange pickled pig in science class. ]

[ Idly, ]

Not all of them ask for it so specifically.

[anatural]

I'm not asking. I'm just noticing. [She's not suicidal, despite what he thinks.] I've had my brains fucked out before, but never my bones. [Her body's too weak and blissed out to respond to his erection between her legs. Which is too bad because normally she likes playing with a guy's junk and the power it gives her, but at the same time, she feels too good to care. If she never had sex again, this would be enough. (No it wouldn't. It just feels that way right now.)]

You've got an unexpected gift.

[mortemscintilla]

No such thing as a gift.

[ Not modest, but matter-of-fact. There aren't good lovers, from what he's experienced: just good couples, good moods, good moments. Something about x brings out something in y. There are women whose bodies have fit him to perfection, in whom that shivery pitch of delight has been sustained from the moment he's inside them until the moment he's left them; others with whom the whole business has been uncomfortable, tedious, making him almost glad when the orgasm is over, and leaving him as indifferent to them afterwards as when he first began. ]

[ Some fizzy chemical mix in Korra triggers the right sparkage in him. Maybe because she's young, enthusiastic -- and that makes him feel younger. Wilder. Freer. He doesn't know. ]

[ The jutting shaft of his cock teases the folds of her labia, the thick vein on the underside working the length of her clit. So fucking wet, he could slip in without any effort at all. He wants to: the very thought makes his body pulse with greed. Instead he stays where he is, a heavy sweat-damp frieze poured across her. Gnawing at her neck, mouthing the junctures of soft skin where it meets jaw and shoulder, the left, then right, before biting in earnest at the captured curves of her breasts, teething the nipples into springy crinkles of flesh. Her whole body has such a sturdy grace, that strangely childlike sweetness that is offset by everything that makes her so solid and womanly. ]

[ Nothing like Amber at all -- and he sets off cataloging each difference the way a junkie does, getting his hands on a sparkly new brand of poison after months of sobriety. ]

[anatural]

Fine, fine. [She doesn't care one way or another if he thinks he has a gift or this is just luck or whatever, though she does believe in gifts (and in good lovers. Chemistry is a factor, but so is practice, experience, and attentiveness, all of which can be learned and improved). She's just making conversation.

As he continues his attentions, she makes pleased little hums instead of words. Her body is still too limp from orgasm to build up a renewed ache, or to try to return the pleasure. She's tied up, anyway. If he wants her to do something, he can untie her. In the meantime, she's just going to enjoy what's happening.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei is aware she's too trussed-up and drowsy to return the favor. It doesn't matter. Right now he's more interested in keeping her flattened under him, this dazed and sunstruck fireball in human skin, his eyes dissecting and admiring as his hands roam with a harsh interest. Fingers scoring along her ribs, weighing and roughly squeezing her breasts, thumbs smearing her nipples, each callus on his palms tracing a separate thread of warmth on her skin. His mouth blossoms heated kisses and bright-edged bites all over her torso and thighs; she smells of a night's hard sweat, raunchy and fuckable, her aroma perfuming the heavy air. ]

[ When he's had his fill, he straightens, undoing the bindings of her thighs -- but only so they won't cramp up. Her arms, he leaves as they are, crossed at the wrists, but with enough give in the sash that he can prod her to roll onto her belly. Her ass is a gorgeous peach, splotchy from the whipping he gave her earlier, hot to his mouth when he bites it -- hard enough to leave pink divots in her skin. One finger dips between her thighs, a slurpy slick sound as he works it in ad out. His thumb prods the pucker of her ass, spreading the slickness of her residual arousal around and around that little aperture. ]

[ Idly, as if he's contemplating between sushi or barbeque for dinner, ]

You've never had anyone here.

[ An observation, not a question. ]

[anatural]

[Freedoooooooom! Of a sort. If she were in any mood to take advantage of it. She lets him roll her over with remarkable docility. She turns her head to look at him when he makes his little observation.]

What makes you say that? [Not denying it, just curious how he came to that conclusion.]

[mortemscintilla]

The way you squawked when I stuck my fingers there.

[ An edge of dryness in his tone, as if he's trying to offset that low ticking pulse in his cock: pure pressure and burning greed at the sight she makes, the dark heavy sweep of hair, her back a sleek expanse bisected by the gradated pebbles of her spine, all of it foreshortened behind two perfect globes and that shiny dark pucker. He's got his thumb buried in her there, curved and sneaky, as he continues working her sex with his finger. Those obscene little squelches as he works his hand in and out are almost an aural enticement, reminding him how good it would be to fuck her again. ]

[ Leaning in, he bites her shoulder. Gnaws her right beneath the ear, in that sensitive place that seems connected straight to her groin -- a seduction, a reward for good behavior. ]

[ Quietly, ]

Let me fuck you here. I promise I'll make you come again.

[anatural]

Let me grow my bones back first. [She teases, but it's definitely an intriguing offer. She's had multiple orgasms in one night before, of course, but never in such short order. Fuck, eat, fuck, start watching a movie, fuck, sleep -- that's how it goes. Not this relentless pace.

Which is a shame, because she's not sure she'll be satisfied with her regular sex after this.

She clenches her muscles around his thumb and experiments with rocking her hips, really focusing this time on how he feels inside her.]

Promise you won't just use my pussy for lube and you've got a deal.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei lets his thumb rest where it is, gripped by her exquisite heat. Lets her work her hips, settling to the unfamiliar invasion. He doesn't prod or nudge; he lets it stay there, letting her feel gently full, while his pointer finger strokes the slippery cleft of her vulva, from clit to entrance. Her gorgeous eagerness makes him feel as if he's got something caught in his chest and groin, something prickly-hot and secret which the barest whisper of breath might dislodge. Hunger? Or is it something else -- a base gratitude? ]

[ He isn't sure. ]

[ By diplomatic stages, he withdraws his hand. His edged, detached manner hides what appears to be a genuine interest in making sure she enjoys this. (Why? Why should it matter if she does or doesn't? Why should anyone's needs matter but his own?) He doesn't know the answer to that, either. Rising, he pads into the narrow kitchenette of the villa -- chipped black and white tiles and an enormous metal ice box. There's a bottle of olive oil on the stained formica counter; he snags it before retrieving a second square of condoms from his discarded trousers. He doesn't have to worry about the oil degrading the sheath. His brand is non-latex; personally he's never liked that antiseptic scent in the generic variety. ]

[ He returns to Korra, a debauched spill of curves and sleek muscle across the bed. Just watching her stirs a distinct, blade-edged hunger that makes all his nerves heat up with a recognition of urgency. Dragging her closer by the hips, he softens his mouth, slides tongue and teeth luxuriously down her spine to the swell of her buttocks. Hands coasting up her thighs, he spreads her open, tongue a quick slippery dart across the bud of her ass, before he curls it between the plump folds of her sex, lapping her from front to back. With his other hand, he dips a finger into that tight origami crinkle of her anus, coaxing her open with a slow in-and-out subterfuge -- first one digit, then two, all the way to the knuckles. Meanwhile his tongue swivels all around her soft salt-seeping skin, over and over and over, alternating between her fluttering opening and the taut point of her clit, for as long as it will take to build that aching strain, that synchronicity between them. ]

[anatural]

[You could've had so much more of this, Hei, if you'd just taken her up on her original offer. Though the long days of frustration certainly did add to the intensity of her reactions. Yet it's not just the frustration. It's him. Her relationship with Hei has always been strange, such a mixed bag of emotions that she could never really say what she felt about him, whether she hated him or something else, but none of them lukewarm or apathetic. Being around him is intense. Fucking him is... almost indescribable. The thrill of the taboo, without actually doing anything taboo. The weird way he cares about her pleasure, and she still can't figure out whether it's Hei being strange or if it's part of some larger agenda. Either way, she's taking advantage of it for all its worth.

And she's not thinking too hard about any of it. When Hei crawls off her to go get another condom, she takes the opportunity to stretch, shaking off the last traces of post-orgasmic lassitude and making sure she doesn't get a backache from spending too long on her stomach. She's excited to be trying this new thing. (Poor Mako — he'd wanted to try it with her too, but he never managed to sell her on the appeal. Perhaps he was also hesitant to stick his precious wang up the dirt hole.)

She wants to make some clever, snarky comment as he settles back on top of her, his hands and tongue running over her like they're cats and he's grooming her. Nothing comes to mind. So instead, she sinks into herself, focuses her attention entirely on what she's feeling, and moans.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The larger agenda is a given: they're both Contractors. Layers and duplicity are their purview. Spycraft is knowing where to put the But, the Only. Where to draw the boundary, while always wielding trust like it's a blade that can swing awry and cut you without warning. And maybe there is no trust here, but there's a zitzing hum of tension that ties them together. (Whether that's knowledge or hatred or something else altogether, who's to say?) ]

[ Maybe that's what makes it easier? Easier for Hei to feel considerate for a moment, to give himself the chance to touch her significantly, in a kind of blank-faced trance that lets him hide things from himself. If you erase each moment as it happens, you don't have to look back. He's always erasing himself, because he's the worst of himself, in deep, so erasure is a kindness to whoever he's with. Which is what lets him be something almost indulgent right now -- something entirely removed from what he usually is. ]

[ She moans, and the sound judders all through Hei, an ache from spine to groin like stretching a long atrophied muscle, nerves lighting up as heat prickles in. With luxuriant thoroughness, his tongue whorls around her clit, while the fingers in her ass fuck her with a maddening languor, working in deeper, stretching her wider, a clingy hot flutter around his fingers as if that part of her exists for no purpose but to embrace him. ]

[ Once he's satisfied by the signals of her body -- the drained-hot lassitude that is sister to arousal -- he withdraws his fingers. A moment later, Korra will feel cool liquid spilling into her. One palm starfished between her shoulderblades, he keeps her pinned. The other measures the gleaming curves of her ass before he smears the oil across that tight pucker, dabs it in with one finger, then two, then gradually three, the lubricant sliding in thick deep dollops into her. ]

[ The fingers of his free hand skim across her spine, the nape of her neck. The touch is almost dreamy. Nothing like the dark currents in his voice. ]

Get ready.

[anatural]

[She manages to muster up one sassy comment, somehow, who knows how —]

I thought that was your job.

[But no, she's ready. She is very much ready. She wants that fullness, that warmth, that rhythm that you can only really get from a phallus (made of flesh or otherwise). She wants every dark promise hinted at in his voice.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei ignores the snark, plastic crinkling as he fits himself with the condom. In the imperfect silence of the room, the noise is almost illicit. Light-headed, an electric thrill of anticipation humming through him, he arranges himself closer, his thighs pressing at the backs of Korra's legs and his cock sliding into the cleft of her behind. It's a weird warm non-contact because of the thick smear of lubricant, the sheath itself, and then the texture and heat of Korra's skin comes into focus instead. ]

[ Tracing the beads of her spine with open-mouthed bites, he shifts in closer, his body a stripe of warmth from her nape to her knees. The head of his cock circles the slippery crinkled bud of her anus, then pushes. A breathless squeeze, a stirring rhythm, while he feels the hot muscles of her body clamping down on his as if to devour him. Slowly, so slowly, he sinks in deeper. Withdraws a bit, then sinks in a fraction more, until with a slick pop, the flaring head is buried in her. ]

[ Fuck. Panting, Hei keeps himself deep and still while lightning crackles through his body. The curve of his free hand is clasped to her nape: he squeezes in a silent question. Good? Bad? ]

[anatural]

[Korra buries her head as best she can in the mattress and struggles to breathe. Stretch-wise, it's no more challenging than when he had three fingers inside her. But it's different. Fingers are clever. They have a kind of subtlety to them. Fingers explore — where dicks invade. Once he gets that rhythm going, it's going to be brutal.

She's panting for it. She rocks her hips up, encouraging him to go deeper, to start plundering. Make it rough.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The way she stirs under him, it's as if she can't make herself wait: already lifting her tailbone and pushing back. Dizzy, Hei finally gets enough of a seat, the first few electric inches of his cock sinking in deeper, his hips straining forward helplessly. His breathing hacks out as if he's been hit: the sound of Korra's jittery inhale-exhales feeds a shiver from his hairline to his toes. Slowly, he rocks closer, and his cock glides deeper in a heated rush that makes his eyes drift half-shut with a quiet purl of satisfaction. The heat of her is tight and slippery-rough and unspeakably luscious. Gripping her by both her hips, he bears forward -- piercing her, sliding in, buried balls-deep. ]

[ Fuck. ]

[ For a moment, he breathes slowly. Gathers himself, flattening the tremors that almost had him. Keeping his brutal grip on her hips, he angles her ass lewdly high, until she's on her elbows and knees, his body curled tightly over and around hers. Two short sloppy strokes, almost experimental -- and then he gets a rhythm going, not cruel, but by no means tender. He enters with driving, powerful strokes, the full length of his cock filling that hot channel, each motion a percussive jolt of pleasure that makes his brain reel. ]

[anatural]

[Korra screams into the mattress. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. She never knew she had nerve endings up there — like, fun nerve endings. It's like he's hitting all her good spots, but twice as intense. Is it because her anus is tighter? Because of the angle? She doesn't know. She wants to know. She wants — ]

Harder. Fuck me harder.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Her words are a spark-shock on Hei's nerves, bright and burning. He can't get enough of her lovely inviting moans, the muffled screams, the way she arches and churns her hips as if her entire body is offering itself to him, pushing back that plump and perfect bottom as if she can't get enough. ]

[ His eyes half-closing, he captures a damp fistful of her hair in his fist, tipping her head back so she can't hide her sounds even against the buffer of the mattress, her spine curled into an exquisite ligature as his other hand spans her hips in a crueler grasp. Slamming forward, a sharp stutter-snap of his hips, he yanks her to meet him, feeling like he's trying to batter his way inside a castle, and his mind flickers with red, brutal images of plunder and war that only make him harder. ]

[ Teeth gritted, Hei feels his breathing break, the sound like a rasping grunt but thinner, hungrier. He rides in hard, lunging into a ruthless cadence, forgetting his hesitation. Every shove of his hips carries a twist that screws him deeper: with the flat of his palm, he wallops the tender underside of her ass, both cheeks caught by the smacking blows in perfect rhythm to his fucking, jolting her to match his movements. ]

[anatural]

[Korra hisses with pain as he yanks her head back. It's hard to breathe with her neck curved like that -- not hard to breathe, exactly, but uncomfortable, and she snarls her displeasure. It's the wrong kind of pain for her arousal.

But the spanking -- THAT is perfect. Every slap sends a jolt straight through to her clit. Fuck why don't more people do this to her? Stick her in a Catholic school girl uniform and punish her for her sins, yes please. She's going to fall apart at any second, a climax even more intense than the previous ones, one that threatens to rip her to shreds.]