Sharp sense of insecurity

[anatural]

[This is a really bad idea. Korra knows this, repeats it over and over to herself as she takes the elevator up to Hei's apartment.

Just a sad little girl willing to spread her legs for anyone who'd pay attention to her. A sad little girl who can only love people who hurt her.

She thought she had worked these issues out years ago. She's no longer ashamed of her sexual history or her turbulent relationship with Hei. She's comfortable with who she is. And yet ... The spirit's words clawed their way under her skin, turning her blood into slime. Making her feel tainted and deformed. She destroyed the spirit, but the wound remains.

She can't bear to go home to Mai and Asami like this. She's in no condition to really accept the comfort that Asami has to offer, without secretly wondering if the other woman was just blinded by affection. Most importantly, she doesn't want this taint to reach her little girl.

This is a bad idea. But she presses on because she suspects it's the irrational, self-loathing part of her talking and not her real self. Yet a sick feeling in her gut leaves her uncertain whether this is something she really needs ... or a terrible mistake.]

Comments

[anatural]

[She almost doesn't let him break the kiss — if he had tried to pull any farther away, she would have yanked his mouth back to hers. This is what she needs ... not the physical thrill of sex, not the comfort of knowing she is loved, but the reminder that she and Hei had something special between them. A love communicated best through sex, yes, but not limited to that or interchangeable with anyone else. Every touch carries echoes of happy memories which help soothe the wounds the spirit left.

Though the bath certainly would help with the literal wounds. She looks in his eyes to make sure that implicit promise is there before saying] Yes.

[mortemscintilla]

[ She says Yes, but Hei doesn't drag himself away. Not yet. He doesn't want to cut short this glad nuzzling -- the soft fit of her top lip against his bottom lip, the delicate scrape of teeth as he coaxes her mouth open to dip his tongue inside, or his fingers creeping into her heavy hair to cradle her head, feeling the heat and solidity of her skull with a giddy glow of satisfaction. She trusts him, is glad to give, glad to take. Such an extraordinary girl -- or it woman now? -- far far beyond what he can possibly deserve. ]

[ Everything about her fills him with tenderness -- and a bruised, awful hollowness. Makes him want, want, want -- everything he is not meant to want. ]

[ He kisses her again, as if he's afraid of forgetting what she tastes like. Detaches, with a sharp inhale, before staggering to his feet. He stays handfasted to her the entire time, coaxing her to rise with him. The bathroom is just a few paces off. He takes measured steps, his fingers knotted damply to Korra's. One foot then the other. A distance which lasts for miles. And it aches to know that Korra can probably feel that anxious ricochet of his pulse. How his breaths are a slow jitter, splintering the silence. Normally, he takes care to display no symptoms of excitement or distress. But -- ]

[ But. ]

[ The bathroom is a shining white oasis, the tiles cool beneath his bare feet. One mirrored wall, and a deep cedar-paneled tub sunk into the floor. While the bath fills, he takes liberties, passing his arms carefully around Korra's waist. Her hair stirs where he burrows his nose into it, to press kisses against her ear, down her neck; he knows she can feel his erection prodding her belly through his shorts. ]

[anatural]

[But she likes that anxious ricochet — likes seeing the effect she can have on him beyond making him hard. Penises are kind of impersonal without those other little signs of excitement.

Not that she isn't extremely fond of his penis. It's a welcome press against her belly, but intertwined as they are, it's a little difficult to reach with her hand, so she settles for rubbing her entire body against him. She'll have her chance to really touch it soon.

While he presses kisses all along her neck, Korra settles for biting down on his shoulder. He always used to like when she did that... she hopes that hasn't changed.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Nothing has changed. Not the way he hauls in a breath, forcing himself into steadiness as she rubs kittenishly against him -- while the press of her groin against his is answered by a growing bulge. Not the way his pulse leaps beneath the skin where she bites down, and he hopes it will leave marks -- pretty crescent-pink divots, the imprint of her teeth visible in his flesh. It's only his right hand that is robbed of its usual fluidity, the bandages making everything clumsy, grasping. ]

[ Teeth gritted, he tries not to think about it. Korra's arms are around his neck, delicious soft-hard swathes, her warm pooched mouth lingering against his, inviting kisses. His left hand skims along the hemline of her blouse, careful not to nudge an injury or bruise. Tugging it up, one-handed, he mouths the heat-damp crook of her neck, and thinks both: I've missed you and I shouldn't be doing this -- but can't say either of those things. ]

[ The kiss breaks only when he wads up her blouse past her head. Her hair fans out, crackling against the collar of the fabric as he lifts it away; flyaway strands cling to his features when he presses in again. Just the touch of his forehead against her shoulder, handsfree so he can impatiently remove his shirt, pulling it free of his shorts and over his head. The clothes are consigned to a wrinkled heap on the vanity. It's laughable to imagine he'd once obsessively folded and hung everything in the middle of preliminaries. The petty concerns of a young man who couldn't appreciate the time on his hands. ]

[anatural]

[He tosses his clothes aside, and Korra turns her attention to her own. A little bit of blood has soaked through her bra — she's not exactly sure how she managed to cut herself without also cutting her shirt, but the bleeding has already stopped so she's not going to worry about it. Before he can try to get her bra off (and therefore get frustrated with his ruined hand), she strips it off and lets it fall to the ground.

Then she takes his bandaged hand and wraps her mouth around the exposed index finger. She really wants to kneel down and blow him, but she's feeling too stiff to kneel on the hard tile. Besides, she hasn't given a blowjob in...yikes, almost two years. She doesn't want to start off with something she's rusty at. (Mostly, though, she just wants to get in the water with him.)]

[mortemscintilla]

[ 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. ]

[anatural]

[The room quickly grows humid, so even when Hei pulls away, there's no cold shock to knock Korra from her chosen course. She lets Hei finish stripping her, finding something soothing in the familiar pushiness.

And then they're naked and he's holding her and if they were on his bed, she'd skip the foreplay and take him inside right now. The hard ledge of the tub is less conducive to impulsive humping. It digs into her ass uncomfortably enough that not even his touch can distract her from it. She puts a hand back to test the water.]

Let's get inside.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Hei nods, stirring himself into motion before the overwhelming sweetness of this crashes in and stymies him. The tub is so long and large that they would be able to share it without needing to touch. But that's not what he wants. Breathing in the moistened Korra-fragrant air, he sinks into the water. The temperature is hot -- but not scalding, the way he usually prefers. (He can't believe he still remembers the exact mix of hot-cold she likes for a soak.) ]

[ He subsides in the blue-tinged water until it is up to his chin. Leaning his head against the curved rim, he regards Korra. In the drifting wisps of steam, her body is wickedly ripe, despite the patchwork of dark bruises. His eyes scope her in erratic, lingering tracks and he finds himself with all this aching tenderness he doesn't know how to dispose of, stretched tight over deathly sadness. ]

[ He holds an arm out, the half-lidded smile on his face too gentle to be a command. ]

Come on.

[anatural]

[You don't have to ask her twice. Korra climbs in after him, water sloshing over the sides, and sighs as heat penetrates the first layer of aching muscles. It feels so good that she doesn't even bother bending immediately; she just leans back until she's resting against his chest, his arms around her and his erection a solid rod in the cleft of her ass.]

Perfect.

[The word is barely a whisper, almost inaudible. Lacing her fingers with his, she moves their hands over her body, using her bending to mend and soothe the physical injuries.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Perfect is an understatement. The whole space is completely transformed by Korra's presence. Placed in the center of the room, the bath -- once such a sterile, private spot -- now possesses the air of a decadent altar, and when Korra sinks into it, he can't help but gather her in with appropriately grateful idolatry. Her back is a smooth golden shoal against his chest, her head lolling heavily on his shoulder. ]

[ Their interlaced hands move over her body without settling anywhere: the healing energy from her fingertips lets off a blue, almost dreamlike electric glow. Nuzzling Korra's heavy hair, Hei glances down at their paired bodies -- his skin almost anemically milky against the caramel-dark smoothness of hers, the network of bruises everywhere on their limbs, fading cuts and contusions. None of it matters. Taking deep whiffs of her hair, kissing the jut of vertebra at her nape, gently gnawing that sweet-spot under her jaw, he wonders how he'd managed to function without the sublime sensation of her skin on his. ]

[ Steam curls over the brimming tub. Through the haze, he regards his face in the wide mirror. His expression holds many things: sadness and queasy expectancy, regret, want. The transparency would be embarrassing at any other time -- but right now his brain is too sogged with pheromones. That chemical insanity of desire. ]

[ Kissing her ear, he whispers, ]

What are we doing?

[ Not a question. More of a wistful, worried statement. ]

[anatural]

[He may not have asked it as a question, but it's a good one nonetheless. Not that Korra has any desire to consider her answer. She doesn't want to think too hard and realize just what a bad idea this is and stop.]

It's fine. [They're both adults. They both understand that this is just an interlude, a brief respite, that things can never be the way they used to be. They can handle this. (She's lying to herself and she knows it, already finds herself fantasizing about him coming back and sex going back to being a nightly occurrence.)

Right now, she wants to embrace this moment without worrying about anything else. If he's going to insist on worrying about things... well, she's just going to have to turn around and kiss him so he can't do anything with his stupid mouth.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's fine, she says. Except she sounds as baffled -- as giddily unsure -- as he feels. It makes it all better and worse, all at the same time. ]

[ Circling his arms tighter around her, he melts into her kiss with soft, mouthing sips. Almost a tactile sigh, passed from tongue to tongue. This isn't going to lead anywhere, he knows that. It won't erase his foolish cravings for a reconciliation -- cravings that have deepened into a restless itch so far inside that he can't hope to reach it; he refuses to believe that this ill-timed indulgence will ease it. At best, it's just a stopgap. At worst -- it will leave him with no completion afterwards, just a gnawing emptiness, a reminder of everything he'd foolishly destroyed. ]

[ He tries not to think about it. Eyes squeezed shut, he feeds on her mouth. His kisses grow messy, mistimed: he breathes in jittery drags of air, his whole body tensile, pulse fluttering. Buoyed by the water, Korra's hot body almost floats in his lap, mass without weight; easy to manipulate. His erection jerks urgently between them, thickening even more to an awful red fullness. He's so shamefully close, edged closer each moment by the wet skid of Korra's skin, her kisses and sweetly-blooming aroma. ]

[ He wishes he could say something. Maybe slow down, withdraw. Except he can only tighten his embrace, and whisper against her parted lips -- shaky but wry. ]

I think ... You've got me too nervous to do this right.

[anatural]

[She remembers when it seemed like he had iron control over his erection, when she really had to fight to bring him to the edge before he was ready. He's changed so much from those early years... it's almost dizzying to contemplate.]

It's fine. [Repeated, but with more of a smile this time. She shifts and twists to get into a better position, then wraps her hand around his erection, which even she can tell is painfully thick.] I can wait for you to re-load. [She didn't come here for a quickie — she's ready and wanting to go all night.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Swallowing his wild urge towards gratitude, Hei kisses her again -- a wet, half-drunken flutter. He can't explain how his patterns have changed -- or maybe submerged -- since he's gotten together with Korra. Sometimes, late at night, when he replays their past encounters, it sours his stomach: each memory speaks of hard-edged, utilitarian lust, the desperate kind that takes place in alleyways and murky peepshow theaters. Light tortures, small selfish cruelties -- anything to keep her on a frenzied string. Or maybe a psychological leash. ]

[ Falling in love -- being forced to give instead of take -- puts responsibility on him, makes him saner, clear-eyed, gentler, yet somehow more vulnerably jittery. He doesn't know, and isn't terribly interested in contemplating it. Swallowing, he gathers her close against him, creating tiny waves which lap at both their bodies. Her little hand is wrapped like a hot ribbon around his prick: it is as heated and tense as ever, yet his kisses soften, lose their thread of urgent demand. He tastes her mouth, draws a hand through her hair, wanting, more than pleasure and release, to experience her. ]

[ Carefully, he leans back, Korra cradled in his arms. The knobs of his knees rise above the waterline like whitened stadium domes; his erection is a pulsing bar between their wet bellies. One arm curls loosely around her torso, his right hand working in finger-crunching little spasms that suggest a vast impatience. But the left strokes languidly up her flank, across the breasts that sag down against her ribs. He cups one, thumb rubbing across the bruised-plum blush of the areola, and lifts it to his mouth. Suckling hard, scraping the nipple with his teeth, he stirs experimentally beneath her -- and inhales sharply through his nose as his erection glides across the wet-velvet heat of her stomach. ]

[anatural]

[Korra squirms and sighs, an ache building up between her legs. But she lets herself drift along at Hei's languid pace. She feels cherished.

She hadn't known what to call that feeling until her relationship with Asami. Asami, who communicates clearly with both her body and her words. Asami, who has always cherished her, even when they were just friends helping each other work off sexual frustration.

Korra tries to cherish Hei in turn, pressing kisses to the crown of his head. She doesn't jerk him off; it's more like she leisurely explores his erection with her hand. Getting reacquainted with its shape, the thick bulge of vein, the way it curves and pulses. She whimpers a little -- maybe at the scrape of his teeth, maybe at the memory of how good he feels inside her.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She whimpers, and a shiver climbs up Hei's spine, the delight sunk so deep in his bones that his brain is saturated with it. Hungrily, he opens his mouth to gulp in more of her breast, loving its soft heat, the springy tickle of her nipple at the roof of his mouth. At the same time, his hips grow more restless. The indolent strokes of her hand seem to coax the first thick skeins of come from his cock. He can feel that familiar tension gathering in his balls. Feel that pulsing, focused surge that rises from root to tip. ]

[ Humming, he clasps his arms tighter around her. Both their bodies are silked with sweat, water sloshing at the edges of the tub. Her breasts are delicious handfuls, right against his face, and he rubs his bristly cheek against them, over and over. Kisses them, kisses her shoulders, her arms, her throat, as if smearing the scent of her into his skin. It's a slow gut-shock when he comes -- deep and juddery, a seaquake that crests in hot arcs to splash their bellies, only to be washed away by the water. ]

[ Moments later Hei is swaying, bent forward, breathing shallowly into the damp crook of Korra's shoulder. Hands stroke the back of her neck, her spine, and her heat is like a balm across his aching skin, far better than the hot water, soothing his riotous senses back into a baseline zero. Fuck... everything about her feels so good. ]

[ Blissed-out, miserable, Hei closes his eyes fully. In a quiet slur, ]

You keep getting lovelier.

[ A non-sequitur. But also words that can be both believed and that are absolutely truthful. ]

[anatural]

[With her free hand, Korra strokes the hair on the back of his head as he comes. She loves the way he looks when he falls apart — the subtle way he breaks, the way his expression goes soft. She nuzzles his hair and laughs softly when he says You keep getting lovelier.]

Flatterer.

[A twinge in her ribs distracts her from gently guiding his hand between her legs; instead, she reaches around to do some final healing. When she's done, she nibbles his ear.]

I could use a good scrub.

[mortemscintilla]

[ 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. ]

[anatural]

I was here to heal my injuries. [And get metaphorically filthy, yes. But come on, Hei. Realize that her request for a scrub is a request for you to get her off.

What happened to the king of subtext? She is equal parts frustrated and amused as he seems to take her at her word and washes her. There's a delicious intimacy to the contact, which is why she doesn't bother correcting him; it's nice to be bathed and pampered, especially when you're feeling low. But it's not what she's after.

He kisses her like he's getting ready to leave but doesn't want to go, and she huffs with mild irritation before guiding his hand back between her legs. This is what she wanted.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He'd like to think his reluctance is really about savoring the moment, with keeping a languorous pace to this impulsive encounter, refusing to rush something that contains in itself so much delicate volatility. But he knows it is much more about his bedrock selfishness. The slower he permits himself to be, the more he'll be able to hoard all the big and little details about her afterwards. The heat of her body is like a homecoming -- but he'll be homeless again the moment she's gotten what she wants, and walked out the door. ]

[ At the idea, a curl of misery flexes in his belly. ]

[ Shaking it off, he gives himself with a starved concentration to the kiss. She guides his hand between her legs: the message is blatant. But he doesn't get down to business in his usual point-and-shoot manner. His fingers ghost over her mons, stirring the curls, then slip lower, tip of his index finger finding the point of her clit, barely touching. There is a bone-deep shiver at stroking her this way, where she is hottest and softest; his hand itches to dip down, to sink into that familiar welling slickness of her entrance. ]

[ He doesn't. Instead, his fingertip traces slippery whorls across her clitoral shaft. Mouth nuzzling hers, barely-there smooches, before he gnaws her jaw, tongues down her throat. Her breasts keep captivating his attention. He nuzzle the hard dark nipples, from one to the next and back again, his right hand weighing them gently, mindless of the dull needles of discomfort stabbing through the bones. His physical therapist always suggests he exercise with stress balls. In Hei's opinion, this is ten times better. ]

[anatural]

[And whose fault is that, you selfish bastard? All you had to do was accept responsibility for fucking up. That's all you had to do, and this could have stayed yours.]

When did you get so timid? [She squirms impatiently and bites him wherever she reach. He's on the wrong side of languid and teasing, creating just smidge more frustration than pleasure.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Timid. Hei hides the curve of his smile against the ledge of her collarbone. He doesn't know why her petulance is both gratifying and endearing. Maybe because it shows how much she wants him. Without that assurance, each heartbeat carries with it a horrible weightless dread, where he's convinced, Maybe this is it it, she'll stop you and leave. There is almost a sadistic glee to it, not because he wants to be stopped but because it is expected. He doesn't deserve to touch her. ]

[ But it's clear she won't tolerate anything lukewarm or tentative. She rarely has. ]

[ Tracing the puckers of her nipples in wet lines, he bites down on the left. Tender -- then hard, while his fingers, below the waterline, separate the slick pink petals of her sex. His thumb teases tremors across her clitoris while the first two digits slide inside her, probing her sopping walls before crooking, inexorably, on that remembered hot-spot. Water sloshes at the lip of the tub; their mouths meet again, his teeth finding her lower lip this time. So much space to wade in -- yet it's almost claustrophobic. Moisture. Wet skid of skins. Hands and mouths everywhere, limbs interwoven. It is good, cramped, disorganized -- and the hunger boiling in Hei's own body startles him, like a strange propulsive rush below the skin, so he can't hold back anymore -- all the reasons for holding back evaporate. ]

[ He's got Korra. Right now. In this moment. The rest doesn't matter. ]

[anatural]

[FINALLY. Korra claws him appreciatively as he gnaws on her and his fingers work their magic.

A sad little girl who can only love people who hurt her.

Shut up! she snarls to that voice in her mind. She loves plenty of people who don't hurt her. And she doesn't love Hei just because he does. Or because he does amazing things to her body. It's more than that and she could list all the reasons if she could just think clearly, which is hard to do when he's touching her like this but she doesn't want him to stop (doesn't want to have her head clear and realize she still can't think of reasons she loves him).]

[mortemscintilla]

[ Why does she love him? Everytime he comes back to that, it is like touching a wound. ]

[ He'd like not to believe their relationship was just a horror-show. That the mistrust and violence was just one little facet of their story, and not the most important. Except she still struggles with that rationalization herself, it is plain to see. He has no trouble imagining even his secret self -- that stone-cold killer -- falling in love with this girl, this pure pillar of righteous deadly power. It is the other way around he still can't fathom. So he'd helped her out of a jam once or twice, been a crying shoulder, a constant fixture, living and fighting at her side. Former enemies can become comrades, he knows that. ]

[ But to choose as her lover a man with such a brutal history? Who killed for a living? Who'd begun by hunting and planning to kill her? To lavish on him such tenderness, to so reflexively surrender herself, even choose to have his child? ]

[ The more he experiences it, the more perplexing, perturbing, disturbing it is. She can rage at him for days, accuse him of trying to explain away her feelings. But a girl meant to be the embodiment of balance and brightness, her life dedicated to eradicating monsters of chaos -- for that girl to want to lie down with one every day, to give herself to him so utterly ... There is something sordid in it. You can soften it and clarify it all you like, but there it is. ]

[ It's not her fault. The conviction rises through him like a bloodrush. It is just everything she'd endured in the City. All the isolation and misery. All the terrible ways her identity was battered, denigrated, downtrodden -- downright erased. It can take a good girl -- the strongest girl -- and warps her into... ]

[ Into what? a sly voice prods. Not into someone like him. He understands -- with an unshakeable conviction -- that no matter how misshapen or altered Korra becomes, she'll always be a hundred times better than he ever can be. ]

[ Her sex seems to ripple and clutch at his fingers: he works into her with two, in and out, as deep as his knuckles. His teeth suck purple rosettes of bruises everywhere he can reach -- across her throat, the swell of her right breast, the underside of her left, the soft skin of her inner-arm, the gleaming point of her shoulder. Her body is slippery and wild: the air is a waft of steam and spicy Korra-smell, and for a moment Hei is happy, blissfully happy, shining through his misery. ]

[ In moments like these, his misgivings shiver into dust. Carry him away from reality, and into truth. ]

[anatural]

[People are complicated and love is strange. At the end of the day, that's the only explanation there is, and the only one Korra needs when a canny evil spirit hasn't gotten under her skin. It's not in her nature to question her feelings and their legitimacy. She feels what she feels.

But while she's gotten older and wiser, she does still care how people see her. She does still sometimes use other people's perceptions as a reality check on her own. Which is a good thing when the source can be trusted -- and a bad thing when it can't.

She claws at him, panting, gasping. They've splashed bath water so far that their discarded clothes have gotten wet, not that she notices or cares. All of her attention is split between her rapidly approaching climax and her eagerness to take this to the bedroom. Dildos can be great, but sometimes a girl just needs a real live cock.]