under the stars

[anatural]

WHO: Korra & Hei
WHAT: Their first night in the Spirit World and their first chance for an actual reunion. (nsfw)

[They trek for hours without saying anything, over terrain that varies with neither rhyme nor reason. Sometimes in a desert, other times in a forest, other times across a plain that seems to stretch for miles until suddenly a mountain appears. Hei doesn't ask why they're going the direction they are, for which Korra is grateful because she doesn't know the answer. She doesn't know anything. They're walking not to get anywhere in particular, but to give Korra a chance to figure out what to do, because she can't think while standing still.

Where would Raava have gone? Is there some way she can communicate with the light spirit? Is there anyone in the Spirit World who doesn't completely despise her?

Evening starts to fall, offering no answers, only a reminder that her body is human and, like it or not, needs rest. Luckily(?) they're in a forest. Plenty of material to make camp with.]

We should stop here for the night. [She has to cough a little mid-sentence; her voice rough from disuse.]

Comments

[mortemscintilla]

Hm?

[ It's faintly slurred. Hard to concentrate with her warm fingers stroking the curvature of his cock; it stirs as if the flesh is breathing against her palm. At her question, though, something shutters across his face. There's a moment's hesitation, before he nods, once, in a way that appears honest -- but if it is, that's only because Hei is making allowances for her, each one larger and larger as time goes on. ]

I have.

[ He thinks of dozens of undercover ops, to strange countries, in disorienting time zones. Thinks of countless stings in Heaven's War, of being parachuted into the sweltering green chaos of jungles for alien objectives. Most of all, he thinks of Pai. Of trying to wrench fragments of info on her whereabouts, from the gears of the Syndicate's machinery, a deadly grinding blur, at the risk of getting some vital part of him lopped off. ]

[ Quieter, ]

When I was seventeen ... something happened. I lost lots of people. And there was no way of knowing if they'd vanished or died. Xing was one of them. [ It feels odd saying it out loud to someone at last, even in a low voice in the flickering orange glow of flames. ] I spent five years trying to figure out if she was still alive.

[anatural]

[A not-so-kind part of Korra thinks That’s not exactly helpful, especially since as far as she knows, he never actually found Xing — she just showed up in the City. But mostly, she's touched by the insight into his past. She's gleaned some of it, already had the sense of its heart, but to be given some of the details (however few) is still special.]

What did you do?

[mortemscintilla]

[ He doesn't answer for a moment. Instead his hand shifts to curl around her wrist, stilling the caress. The pad of his thumb rests over her pulsepoint, the cluster of veins there; fragile enough for anyone to do damage. That's how the body works. That's where his expertise lies -- and what he used as a bargaining chip to stay alive, so he could find Pai. ]

[ I lied. I plotted. I stole. I killed. All so that I could get information about my sister. He can't push those extra words out. He spares a quick glance at the girl to see if any clue is birthing. Korra's face is just as usual, open and accepting and devoid of any sign that she's heard the silent hint. So many hints dropped over the years, you'd think by now the water level would have risen, that the realization would have surfaced behind those eyes. Her eyes are always on him, reading him closely, usually with bright insight, and yet, in this area: nothing. ]

[ (Except he's sure, subconsciously, that Korra knows all about his background. But to give voice to it would bring the fragile wall of denial crumbling down and expose her to cruel clarity.) ]

[ At length, ]

I did whatever I had to. Bad deals. Questionable things. I justified them as a means to an end. Like they'd be worth it, once I had Xing back. But when I found her ... [ His tone softens, private, dull, held back by an audible restraint. ] I realized we weren't the same people anymore. She was still the most important thing in my life. But not ... essential to who I was. She'd made her own choices. And I had to make mine.

[anatural]

[She brings the arm, still held in his grip, back up to wrap around his waist. She can understand that. She's made a lot of choices like that over the past eight months, trying to protect her people. She's helped arrange weapons deals. She's tried to trick the UN army into fighting against the North. She's threatened people who didn't deserve to be threatened. She's tried to kill her uncle. She's not Aang; she doesn't have a giant lion-turtle telling her how to win without killing. None of her past lives are here to guide her. The world is falling apart and she is on her own to try & save it.]

What's our next step? [She doesn't mean to sound callous or like she doesn't care about what he shared, but what can she say to that? I'm sorry? Would he even want to hear it? Probably not. And this whole conversation had started because she's trying to figure out how to look for Raava. Might as well bring it back to the original subject.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's not expecting an I'm sorry. If anything he welcomes the return to more important topics. She already knows that he hates serious personal chats and tends to greet such invitations as if he's been asked to pound nails into his chest. (And she's never pressed. That is what relieves Hei, but also twists his gut into a puzzle of wariness. The girl with a thousand and one nosy, friendly questions has never asked him, quietly, maybe when they're alone at night What did you do back home? Then again, why would she, given his cruel edges and kneejerk reticence?) ]

[ (He knows this, yet he keeps expecting the question or something like it, even as the years pass and they grow closer; he'd anticipated it long before and had planned out his reply -- his range of replies -- like a man copying and recopying awkward, difficult love letters. He didn't think of love. Any feeling was in the work itself, the deliberate will to be prepared, ready to give; even if no more was asked of him than truth. He had played the permutations of that conversation in his head so many times that he'd worn the scene down to fuzz and white noise. But things are different now, aren't they? That conversation will never play out now the way it might have two years ago. They aren't the same people anymore.) ]

[ She circles her arm across his waist, and he hitches a leg, draping it across her thighs, tying the bow tight to hold her in place. But when he speaks, it's almost businesslike. ]

Allot a timeframe to finding Raava. One week maximum. If we fail, we exit the Spirit World. Track Unalaq down on our own. Once we do, [ something cold glints in his gaze, a black layer of ice, ] we remind him every war has casualties. On both sides.

[anatural]

A week?! [It's hard to bolt up when he's holding her like that, but she tries.] The Spirit World is HUGE! How are we supposed to find her in a week?!

[mortemscintilla]

[ In a smooth movement, Hei rolls so he's draped across her. Arms bracketing her on each side, his eyelids sliding into half-mooning seriousness. Yes, the Spirit World is enormous. But they haven't got the luxury of endless time. Whatever Unalaq is planning, it is huge. The faster they get the drop on him, the better chance they have of averting greater disaster. Korra doesn't need her Avatar powers to take him down; she just needs a mix of cleverness, resource, and self-determination. ]

If we don't find her, we'll handle this on our own.

[ A beat, before his tone changes: softer, but nonetheless steely. ]

You're not helpless, Korra. With, or without Raava. Don't hinge everything on finding her. There's enough strength in you that you can take Unalaq down without her.

[anatural]

[She glowers up at him.]

I couldn't handle him when I did have Raava with me. What makes you think I can take him without her?

[She speaks out of frustration, not fear. She'll fight Unalaq regardless of the condition she's in — with or without her Avatar powers, with or without her physical strength, with or without her limbs even. Korra's a fighter; she knows when to make a strategic retreat, but she doesn't run from a fight. Her uncle needs to be stopped, and it's her job to stop him or die trying.

It'd be a lot easier to not die trying if she had Raava.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ It's precisely because she's a fighter that he's telling her this. Since Raava's been snatched away from her -- no, even before that -- she's clung to this unshakable belief that her self-worth is entirely dependent on being the Avatar. She's convinced it's her identity, rather than her duty. He's seen the way it affects her battle strategies. Korra is never intimidating -- much less effective -- when she's upset during a fight. She's like a frantic child. She starts throwing elements around, amping up the aggression, and does more harm than good. The idea of anyone besting her becomes completely devastating to her no matter who it's from. Her general way of dealing with it is to re-commandeer her self-esteem by crushing whoever is in the way -- and if she can't, it psychologically cripples her. ]

[ He wants to tell her that there's a paradox at work for any fighter. In order to survive, you must surrender to the flow of the battle, yet at the same time not give in. There must be a sheer raw determination to win the game, yet an acceptance of losing it as well, which ironically gives you an edge. And if you can muster a cool-headed intellect on top of it all, you're better off than your opponents. ]

[ Flatly, ]

It's not about handling him with Raava. Or without her. It's how you go about it. [ His gaze stays tangled with hers, at once sharp and soft. ] It doesn't matter how determined you are. Or if you have your bending or not. If what you believe about yourself isn't compatible with the actions you need to take, you're going to lose.

[anatural]

What's that supposed to mean?

[mortemscintilla]

[ This earns her a sharp look, but nothing else for a moment. Then: ]

Just what I said. Don't be completely dependent on finding Raava, or being the Avatar. They're important. But they're not who you are -- or what's necessary to win. [ His blank expression doesn't alter, but a depthless warmth leaks in at the edges. ] You are gifted, Korra. You really are. Even if your secret idea is that no one else will agree. I saw your potential when we met, I saw who you reminded me of. But I also saw you. You're brave. And smart. And strong. And beautiful.

[ A slow exhale, before he lifts a hand. Runs his thumb over a curve of hair, just above her ear, a lulling touch. ]

You will always be those things, to me. You're what I saw in that moment, and more. Never less, Korra -- no matter how badly you think you've screwed up.

[anatural]

[Way to ruin her frustration, Hei. How's she supposed to be annoyed with you when you say beautiful things like that? She'd cry except that'd be stupid, so she settles for grabbing his hair and pulling him in for a hard kiss, putting into it all of her frustration, her fear, her desperation, her uncertainty, and her gratitude.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ There's a sharp inhale of breath, before he lets his mouth, his whole body, sink against Korra's. Lets his free arm wrap around that tight waist like a loose bow, while the other hand strokes her hair, runs the knuckles tenderly around the curve of her cheek. He can taste everything she's trying to tell him, sweet speaking kisses, and in return he eats her mouth with relish, both hungry and reassuring. It's like something dark and enormous is shifting loose inside him, letting her see through to where he hides. ]

[ His knees squeeze around her flanks, and when he breaks away, it's with a gasp. His erection, almost at full attention, is a thick weight between them. He gathers her in, lets her cheek press against his shoulder so that all he can see is the curve of her head, the gleam of her tumbled hair. He strokes one hand down her back, palming her ass, trying to recover from the wildness of his pulse and burning past all reason with greed for her, the trend of his previous thoughts forgotten. ]

Korra...?

[ It's both wanting and questioning. A reminder of how very far he is from being done with her. ]

[anatural]

[She's hardly done with him either, a fact which she expounds upon in kisses to his neck, his shoulder, just under his chin, peppering them with little bites and scrapes of teeth. How had she survived? How had she gone from sex several times every day to eight months of nothing, just war and fighting and misery? It's unthinkable.

She slips her hand between their bodies and wraps it around his erection, rubbing her thumb teasingly on the head. When she speaks, the word is murmured against his skin.] Yes.

[mortemscintilla]

[ War and fighting and misery. Half Hei's life has been tangled around those words. He remembers the worst months in Heaven's War, when he'd be in the battlefields every day, slitting throats and stringing traps of landmines. He'd be out in the chilly dawn hours with scattered enemy campside lights burning in the hills, signaling to his teammates before an ambush. He'd be out in the afternoon as the sun crested high over the high-hide, its heat burning through the salt on his skin to draw it tight. He'd be out in the evening with the wind crisping the dried blood on his face, the soil around him littered with bodies of his victims. His boots had become so worn he padded them with newspapers; his feet had turned black from the ink. He remembers weeks when they ate nothing but canned peaches: at night, he would scavenge groves to fill his jacket pockets with shriveled berries. Later, he'd collapse in cool corners next to Pai, or facefirst into his pallet with Amber, a teenage boy in bed with a beautiful woman, too exhausted to do what should have come naturally. ]

[ This is a war, too. But it's not the same. Despite the exhaustion weighing down his muscles, there is a shrill whistle of need cutting through him. A sustenance in Korra's tasty kisses and bites, which mutates into a wildness that breaks through him like lightning. His erection strains upright as she teases it to greater hardness. A bead of pre-come oozes down its length; he pants softly into her mouth, a twitchiness descending like darkness. He doesn't care about restraint or games. He wants to be inside her so badly; yet his free hand roams over her body -- mouth, breasts, belly, sex -- almost as if showcasing spots to reacquaint himself with. ]

[ In the end, it's an effort to wrench away, then re-sheath himself with a fresh condom. Lifting her leg -- she feels deliciously loose and warm as taffy -- he pushes into her, her sex still wet, swollen and pillowy. Her heat clasps him, and his eyelids flutter heavily shut. Humming, he holds himself steady, willing himself to relax, not daring to thrust. ]

[alittlebent]

[Korra lets out a faint whine as he pushes inside her. Her insides are more sensitive than she thought they'd be, given the amount of time they spent talking; a thread of pain runs through the pleasure, making it bittersweet. And yet she's pretty sure she likes it best that way. Everything she really loves hurts a little. It's how she knows she's pushing herself.

She's surprised when he gets all the way inside and then stops; her blue eyes are blown with desire and wide with confusion.]

Everything all right?

[She rocks her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis, tacitly encouraging him to move.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ She rocks against him, and Hei's shoulders tremble with the effort of not rolling into her rhythm, a wave into the sea. One broken sound, a gasp for air that is almost a shaky laugh, escapes him. The first time should've taken the edge off, yet she feels so unbearably good, he almost can't stand it. One misstep and it will be all over, and damn embarrassing, because they've had their rapid-fire first-fuck, and he intends to make the second better. Oh, hell, he just intends to make it. ]

[ Nuzzling her hair, he meets her gaze. Her eyes are so blue. His are blue, sure, but hers define blue. He can feel the excitement steeping him, staring at her, being stared at. He's sure she can tell. ]

[ Raspily, (sheepishly), ]

I don't know if I want to watch you ... [ a slow swivel of his hips, so she feels the pressure across her groin ] or fuck you.

[alittlebent]

Hnnn... [Her eyes flutter at the pressure. Is he expecting her to make the decision for him? That would be a novelty. And hard. How's she supposed to think — much less decide anything — when he's touching her like that?] Can't you do both?

[mortemscintilla]

You make it hard to focus.

[ The words are teasing, but there is a burning seriousness in his gaze. He shifts to accommodate the slick heated braid of their bodies, until they are screwed together tight, her leg riding high over his hip, then begins to fuck her with tight jabs, barely moving, his whole body dipping into every undulation. Eyes open all the while, a soft expression of private pleasure, like some chunk of ice inside him is unchilling as she shares her warmth. It is better than the sun. They way she moves him, the way she can make him move. ]

[ His breath hitches in synch with his rising excitement, yet there's something lazy in the way he touches her, as if he doesn't care when he'll come. Calloused fingertips traveling over her, proprietary yet tender, pausing here and there to caress, to inspect. Smoothing her hair, lifting it off to dust her face in kisses. Tracing the shape of her mouth, the arc of her throat, stroking the shape of her breasts with the rough sides of his fingers. She looks so good to him, but there is too much winter in her little face. Too much sadness from her ordeal the past few months. ]

[ Part of him wishes he could fuck that right out of her. Make her shiny and rosy and sleek as she was when they'd first met. (Impossible, of course. The recent years have shaped Korra from a wide-eyed, wide-smiling delight into a prickly briarwood puzzle, with darker looks, darker moods.) ]

[alittlebent]

[Would you even be interested in a Korra without the winter, Hei? Would you know how to interact with her if she didn't know such sadness? She wouldn't know how to deal with him without it; she'd have no way to understand him. Her capacity for empathy is powerful but also lacking in imagination; she needs experience to understand.

His touch is gentle, but hers isn't. She digs her nails into his back, holding onto him like she's afraid he's going to fly away and she refuses to let him move an inch.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ No, he wouldn't. They're still worlds apart when it comes to cruelty. The juxtaposition of Hei and Korra in his mind still recalls a red-flecked diamond set beside a bloodstained knife. But the more muddy water she wades through, the more he finds himself reaching out to her. He should have loved the original sweet-seventeen Korra, with her innocent limpid eyes and her purity of soul. But he'd only ever been intrigued by her, the way one is intrigued by an incomprehensible miracle. He'd fallen in love with her after that debacle with Chekov; watching her dance around the kitchen as they cooked lobsters, the sunlight of her face flickering as she'd tried to keep the awful darkness at bay. It was that moment when it had happened, the blossoming strains of a sweet sickness, because Hei can't love what isn't a little dark at the center. He'd practiced to perfection on Pai, on Amber, and faithfully followed the pattern with Korra. ]

[ She wraps herself around him, and her nails leave neat semi-circles in his skin, pleasurepain radiating from each one like the rays of a cartoon sun. He feels so turned on that breathing hurts. But his thrusts maintain a languid cadence. Lowering his mouth to her breasts, he kisses each one with worshipful thoroughness. Presses them softly together with his palms, nestling his face between them. ]

[ In a slurred murmur, ]

Tell me how you were. Before ... the war started.

[anatural]

Huh? [She blinks at him, dazed and a little confused. She's so focused on the here & now that she can't follow the mental leap he made.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ He can't help but smile faintly at her confused look. Firelight wavers at the edges of the scenery; Korra's face is a pretty copper coin against the shadows. He keeps up the rhythm, warm and languorous, rocking. His lips visit the crook of her shoulder, trace the line of her jugular before he gnaws almost delicately at the sensitive underside of her jaw. ]

Tell me. How you were. [ A casual repetition, but his gaze is rueful. ] I know ... I left on an odd note.

[ He'd recalled it at random moments in his journey: the dwindling shape of her body at the train terminus, and those three dreaded words she'd blurted with round and glossy eyes, and the hobbling pain they'd shot through him, now a ghostly twinge, fears and stupid self-delusions and the passing joy of thinking: Maybe I don't need to run. Maybe we can make this work. ]

[anatural]

[Ooooooohhhhh. She leans into him and wishes that he hadn't asked.]

Fine. I was just fine. [Except for that stupid decision she'd made to sleep with Bolin. Multiple times. She doesn't like to think about that short-lived affair and how she'd once again managed, through insensitivity and obliviousness, to crush the heart of one of her dearest friends. She doesn't like to think about how she told Hei she loved him and then almost immediately afterwards had sex with someone else.]

My dad got hurt not long after you left. I was in the South Pole almost the whole time you were gone. [It's not really a lie. Completely.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ A thick silence drips in, and Hei thinks, dimly: She's no better at lying than she ever was. But what exactly she's hiding, he can't put it his finger on. (Or maybe he's already subconsciously aware of it, but refuses to give voice to it and spoil the tenuous bliss of the reunion.) ]

[ So he says nothing, his mouth settling across hers instead, coaxing her lips apart to fuck her mouth with his tongue, slow, slick stabs that echo the movements of his body. He breathes in and smells salt and burning wood and sea grass. He even likes the undignified noises they're making, low bubbles of liquid friction, the ones that used to make him wince when he was a teenager. ]

[ Quietly, ]

I thought of you like that. While we were apart. Fighting. Getting on with things.