[ He doesn't smile. But there's a simmer of warm amusement bubbling in his chest. Outside, at the window, fireworks erupt -- brilliant stingrays and jellyfish blossoming then fading in an ultramarine darkness. The room swims, colours mixing and blurring, dripping down into each other; greying, brightening, then greying again. He feels like someone is holding the house underwater. It's a whimsical ambience. But he wants to see Korra. ]
[ Drawing back, he lets one hand rest at the dip of Korra's spine, thumb pressing circles into the taut muscle. A reassurance that he's still there. With the other hand, he reaches into the pocket of his folded coat. Fishing out a pencil torch, he flicks it on. Sets it on the coffee table, its glow a pale orange, buzzing quietly, creating fuzzy, spluttering shadows. He angles the torch forward, creating a glowing line from Korra's face down the center of her, leaving all beyond it in darkness. ]
[ She looks spectral, eerily beautiful, lit up in strange, angular shapes. ]
[ Korra will feel his weight make the couch whine, feel him shift positions until he's holding himself over her horizontally. With pursed lips, he blows across her skin, lips a quarter of an inch away. Moving slowly all along her body, careful not to touch it with his own. His tongue darts out occasionally to leave hot spots on her collar bone, neck, nipples, belly, hipbone, and inner thighs. Hot spots that he cools with another susurration of breath. One of his hands runs up the length of her thigh, then down to where it melts into her groin. The light skim of his fingers, down the crease of her leg and up, the heat and pressure of his palm settling on her mons, a dark starfish on the triangle of her panties. He rocks the heel of his hand almost imperceptibly against her clit, letting everything in Korra's body start pulling low at her stomach. ]
Do you want me to talk to you?
[ Not bedroom voiced, but almost conversational. A reassurance that she's not alone, not passive, not something he's pawing at while his mind drifts elsewhere. (Part of him is surprised for offering. Usually he couldn't care less.) ]
no subject
[ He doesn't smile. But there's a simmer of warm amusement bubbling in his chest. Outside, at the window, fireworks erupt -- brilliant stingrays and jellyfish blossoming then fading in an ultramarine darkness. The room swims, colours mixing and blurring, dripping down into each other; greying, brightening, then greying again. He feels like someone is holding the house underwater. It's a whimsical ambience. But he wants to see Korra. ]
[ Drawing back, he lets one hand rest at the dip of Korra's spine, thumb pressing circles into the taut muscle. A reassurance that he's still there. With the other hand, he reaches into the pocket of his folded coat. Fishing out a pencil torch, he flicks it on. Sets it on the coffee table, its glow a pale orange, buzzing quietly, creating fuzzy, spluttering shadows. He angles the torch forward, creating a glowing line from Korra's face down the center of her, leaving all beyond it in darkness. ]
[ She looks spectral, eerily beautiful, lit up in strange, angular shapes. ]
[ Korra will feel his weight make the couch whine, feel him shift positions until he's holding himself over her horizontally. With pursed lips, he blows across her skin, lips a quarter of an inch away. Moving slowly all along her body, careful not to touch it with his own. His tongue darts out occasionally to leave hot spots on her collar bone, neck, nipples, belly, hipbone, and inner thighs. Hot spots that he cools with another susurration of breath. One of his hands runs up the length of her thigh, then down to where it melts into her groin. The light skim of his fingers, down the crease of her leg and up, the heat and pressure of his palm settling on her mons, a dark starfish on the triangle of her panties. He rocks the heel of his hand almost imperceptibly against her clit, letting everything in Korra's body start pulling low at her stomach. ]
Do you want me to talk to you?
[ Not bedroom voiced, but almost conversational. A reassurance that she's not alone, not passive, not something he's pawing at while his mind drifts elsewhere. (Part of him is surprised for offering. Usually he couldn't care less.) ]