[ If he could read her mind, he'd tell her how little he cares about finesse. He's stopped being so tedious and small-minded that he can only think of one way to be with her. That he'd stick to a plan of step A to B to Y, and drag her along with it no matter what because it is the only thing he wants from her. Right now ... all he wants is Korra. Once roused, engaged by her, his critical faculty is nothing but wet paper, decimated. Korra in his apartment, in his arms, stripping for him, is the culmination of every bitter fantasy he's forbidden himself to indulge, every uncontrollable dream he's woken from to find himself gushing on the sheets. ]
[ He inhales sharply as she sucks his finger between her soft lips. There is something obscenely exquisite about the heat and moisture of her mouth. Something that always pushes his senses into images of her hair spilling darkly over his groin, her mouth engulfing his cock, the clever flicks of her hot little tongue. At the same time he's desperate to reacquaint himself with every inch of her; to taste that delectable little hardbody, the springy nipples and the sodden pussy, the sleek thighs and curling toes and the arms roped with muscle, right to the tips of those strong-jointed little hands. ]
[ He disentangles himself from her with more difficulty than he should have. Turning the cold and hot taps on, he lets the bath fill. The water's ambient slosh fills the silence, overlapped by his own ragged breaths, allowing Korra to hear all his nervousness. Lip bit, he pushes off his shorts. His shaft springs free, slanting up from his stomach. He's so overstimmied; the sheer heft and heat of his erection sparks constricted discomfort -- and self-consciousness. ]
[ It's easier to focus on Korra. Gently, he nudges her until she's settled on the edge of the tub. Kneels, with a barely-there wince, so he can tug off her boots, then her socks, before dragging her pants down her thighs with her underwear. The scent of her wafts to him from her parted legs -- a sharp, sweetish musk. His breath rattles awfully in his throat: it's too much, the smell of Korra and her skin and the radiating heat of her. It both disturbs and soothes something very necessary inside of him. ]
...Korra...
[ He feels something -- despair? desperation? -- creeping into his voice. His head throbs, his bruises ache, and his erection rolls painfully near the skin of his abs. He thinks there should be a rule against doing this so late at night -- (doing this with her) -- and he wants the absoluteness of such a stupid rule. Then he gathers her in, their skins sticking, heat-damp, familiar -- and this is all he wants. ]
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Date: 2015-07-12 09:52 pm (UTC)[ He inhales sharply as she sucks his finger between her soft lips. There is something obscenely exquisite about the heat and moisture of her mouth. Something that always pushes his senses into images of her hair spilling darkly over his groin, her mouth engulfing his cock, the clever flicks of her hot little tongue. At the same time he's desperate to reacquaint himself with every inch of her; to taste that delectable little hardbody, the springy nipples and the sodden pussy, the sleek thighs and curling toes and the arms roped with muscle, right to the tips of those strong-jointed little hands. ]
[ He disentangles himself from her with more difficulty than he should have. Turning the cold and hot taps on, he lets the bath fill. The water's ambient slosh fills the silence, overlapped by his own ragged breaths, allowing Korra to hear all his nervousness. Lip bit, he pushes off his shorts. His shaft springs free, slanting up from his stomach. He's so overstimmied; the sheer heft and heat of his erection sparks constricted discomfort -- and self-consciousness. ]
[ It's easier to focus on Korra. Gently, he nudges her until she's settled on the edge of the tub. Kneels, with a barely-there wince, so he can tug off her boots, then her socks, before dragging her pants down her thighs with her underwear. The scent of her wafts to him from her parted legs -- a sharp, sweetish musk. His breath rattles awfully in his throat: it's too much, the smell of Korra and her skin and the radiating heat of her. It both disturbs and soothes something very necessary inside of him. ]
...Korra...
[ He feels something -- despair? desperation? -- creeping into his voice. His head throbs, his bruises ache, and his erection rolls painfully near the skin of his abs. He thinks there should be a rule against doing this so late at night -- (doing this with her) -- and he wants the absoluteness of such a stupid rule. Then he gathers her in, their skins sticking, heat-damp, familiar -- and this is all he wants. ]