[ Hei's eyes drift half-open, feeling her words -- or maybe the graze of her little teeth -- send a shivery ache through him: that twinge that is the rippling echo of pleasure. ]
[ Drowsily, ]
I thought we were in the tub to get dirty.
[ It takes a lot to force those words out in a semblance of playfulness and not as pure greed. He isn't even sure he succeeds. Release reverberates through him, leaving him woozy but still half-hard -- ready for more. It is embarrassing, if he lets himself think about his body's blunt transparency. So he tries like hell not to. If the subject were ever under discussion, he'd prefer not to attribute his own crazily, relentlessly responsive body -- or its lack of staying power -- to Korra's effect on him. It is just one of those things. ]
[ Tenderly, he clasps Korra against him with one heavy arm. Reaches for the shower wand with the other. Positioning the metal nozzle over them, he switches on the water, letting it douse his upturned face. His scalp stings as the stream penetrates his touseled hair, finding little scratches and scabs he hadn't realized were there. Stone-cold at first, the water warms up fast, enfolding him and Korra in a cozy cloud. ]
[ Scrubbing her up from head to toe, he experiences something like serenity in their uninterrupted contact. It's like a forbidden prize, this chance to wash her thick hair carefully, rinse it over and over. To delicately, deliberately lather her back, her shoulders, stroke her arms and belly and breasts and thighs, to stray between her legs and caress her in the guise of soaping. ]
[ When he is finished, and can't pretend anymore that she needs yet another rinse, he tips her face towards his and kisses her mouth. The air is milky with steam, and something in his chest is full of bliss and hope and that strange aching loss, like a tune he can't place, strummed out by the knowledge that this is temporary. ]
[ Eyes squeezed shut, he lets himself linger on the kiss. Just a moment longer. ]
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Date: 2015-07-16 05:47 am (UTC)[ Drowsily, ]
I thought we were in the tub to get dirty.
[ It takes a lot to force those words out in a semblance of playfulness and not as pure greed. He isn't even sure he succeeds. Release reverberates through him, leaving him woozy but still half-hard -- ready for more. It is embarrassing, if he lets himself think about his body's blunt transparency. So he tries like hell not to. If the subject were ever under discussion, he'd prefer not to attribute his own crazily, relentlessly responsive body -- or its lack of staying power -- to Korra's effect on him. It is just one of those things. ]
[ Tenderly, he clasps Korra against him with one heavy arm. Reaches for the shower wand with the other. Positioning the metal nozzle over them, he switches on the water, letting it douse his upturned face. His scalp stings as the stream penetrates his touseled hair, finding little scratches and scabs he hadn't realized were there. Stone-cold at first, the water warms up fast, enfolding him and Korra in a cozy cloud. ]
[ Scrubbing her up from head to toe, he experiences something like serenity in their uninterrupted contact. It's like a forbidden prize, this chance to wash her thick hair carefully, rinse it over and over. To delicately, deliberately lather her back, her shoulders, stroke her arms and belly and breasts and thighs, to stray between her legs and caress her in the guise of soaping. ]
[ When he is finished, and can't pretend anymore that she needs yet another rinse, he tips her face towards his and kisses her mouth. The air is milky with steam, and something in his chest is full of bliss and hope and that strange aching loss, like a tune he can't place, strummed out by the knowledge that this is temporary. ]
[ Eyes squeezed shut, he lets himself linger on the kiss. Just a moment longer. ]