[ Hei's breath breaks as she rocks under him. He thrusts with a disconnected stutter of his hips, before forcibly stilling. He feels engulfed, his body warmed and pliant and minutely attuned to the fluttering clench of her -- and at the same time knifed into two by the ache of his dick: a filthy, full-blooded throb. If the touchstone of heterosexual sex is penetration, this feels like the Ruben-vase opposite. Which is stupid, the mass of norms he's normalized -- the postures, the power-play, the convoluted assumptions about sex and body-parts. Even now, even in private, the vague stir of disgust at his body, at hers, is difficult to ignore. ]
[ Still, he tries. Stroking Korra's head, staring like a half-stoned bastard at her face, which looks as if it has broken the surface of a wave, giving him a heavily lidded gaze of pure sex -- blue eyes, scent of sea foam, her body seeming to be filled with strange pulsing tides and awkward ripples. ]
[ Catching one of her hands, he brings it down to curl around the root of his cock. Tilts closer, his entire body-weight bearing on her groin, and circles his hips, letting her own knuckles grind against the hard crest of her clitoris. He's trying to stay slow, to rock in gentle, experimental pushes. But it's not without agenda: each motion works over and over, inexorably, at that one hot-spot inside her. ]
[ His breath saws quietly at the silence as his hair skims her face, inky tips stirring her cheek. Their faces don't quite brush. ]
Hot? Warm? Cold?
[ A dry tone to go with the game. But with stress-lines of genuine interest on his face. ]
no subject
[ Still, he tries. Stroking Korra's head, staring like a half-stoned bastard at her face, which looks as if it has broken the surface of a wave, giving him a heavily lidded gaze of pure sex -- blue eyes, scent of sea foam, her body seeming to be filled with strange pulsing tides and awkward ripples. ]
[ Catching one of her hands, he brings it down to curl around the root of his cock. Tilts closer, his entire body-weight bearing on her groin, and circles his hips, letting her own knuckles grind against the hard crest of her clitoris. He's trying to stay slow, to rock in gentle, experimental pushes. But it's not without agenda: each motion works over and over, inexorably, at that one hot-spot inside her. ]
[ His breath saws quietly at the silence as his hair skims her face, inky tips stirring her cheek. Their faces don't quite brush. ]
Hot? Warm? Cold?
[ A dry tone to go with the game. But with stress-lines of genuine interest on his face. ]