poly_chromatic | ♦♦ 33RD CONTRACT

Entry tags:

darker than black - hei

♦♦ 33RD CONTRACT - ANONYMOUS TEXT/ACTION

...Back again.

I could do without the psychic jetlag. No worse for the wear, despite it.

[ Anonymous Text ]
Sing A Song of Sixpence The Child's Rhyme A Lie 1 & 20 Blackbirds Baked As They Die

[ Do not be alarmed. It's a code, not threats of animal abuse. Simply Hei's way of testing the Network-waters. ]

[ Private to Yin ]

~~Are you all right ...?~~

Status?

[ Private to Pai ]

I'm at the safehouse.

[ Options For Run-Ins ]

Cafe: He's assumed 'Li's persona -- timid and dopey-faced. A walking chameleon. But right now, blending with the scenery isn't his priority. The opposite. He's utilizing the freedom afforded by the City to stick out. To play chicken with himself -- after months of paranoid caution. You'll see him seated at the corner, with an unobstructed view of the cafe's interior. Elbow-deep in several platters of fried food, gorging like it's his last meal on earth.

It's his sixth. But fugitive life does wonders for an already freakish appetite.

Dojo: Avoiding the facility’s tangle of Life Cycles and Cybex machines, he's focused on a series of punches, blocks, and kicks to the air that, to the uninitiated, might look like a martial dance routine. It's a kata, but nothing formal or stylized. He has no interest in revealing the full scope of his abilities. Even so, his moves are good -- smooth, practiced, and powerful. They would be impressive in any grizzled combat veteran, but this guy seems at least half that age.

His visit to the dojo isn't an indulgence, or a way to burn off energy. It's a way of reassuring himself that his enemies-- his real enemies -- really are all back home. Or it could be a way of saying come out, come out, wherever you are.

The Underground: In his absence, things have moved around. Locations have changed; reigns of power have switched hands. But it's nothing too drastic. Masked, alone, he propels himself into his first patrol of the year. He feels almost like a kid, a high school student, gone away during summers -- not to visit family and friends but off to anonymously toil in some big city. Now he's back from big travels -- big character-altering, mind-boggling travels. And somehow, the cliche is true: everything in the City seems slightly tepid after having experienced all that disasters and miracles back home.

Of course, it's never a good idea to imagine there is anything tepid about the City. Not so long as it brews with such indefinable magic. Things that pour out of it, or gravitate to it, large or small, are never harmless. In that department, even Hell's Gate has nothing to boast of in comparison.

Anywhere Else: Invent your own setting! You know the drill! c:

[ OOC: Officially off hiatus, and Hei is back in the City, after a brief canon update! Post is anonymous and unhackable as always! Tags will be sporadic so your patience is appreciated<3 ]

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[ The bed creaks beneath them with Hei's steady rocking rhythm. His breaths are short, shredding the silence. It's so strange, this goddamn need. So intense. A whole cache, stored up for so long without outlet. He can't stop kissing her -- licking and gnawing anywhere he can reach -- while her sex, as if it is a second mouth, seems to ripple with its own dark kisses, as if it wants to swallow him whole. His defenses feel broken, like Korra might drag him out the same way. Exposed, vulnerable, ruined -- fuck. It isn't just the consequences which make his mouth taste coppery and his eyes unable to focus on anything but Korra -- which make him feel like he's drowning in his own masks and layers and deceptions. ]

[ He wants this. And the very fact is like a hand on his throat. He feels stripped to his bones. ]

[ He can't tell Korra any of that. But suddenly, desperately, he wants to hear her speak. The imperfect silence mounts until he's afraid his tightly-sewn mind will split, unable to contain the illogical immensity of the thoughts within. ]

Talk to me. [ His voice softens to a plea without losing any of that raspiness and need. ] Tell me how this feels?

Seriously?! [It's not indignant -- just confused. And more than a little flustered. Turning thoughts into words while doing other things isn't exactly one of her great talents. There's that sense of panic she gets when put in front of a microphone, or when you ask her to speak spontaneously.] It feels... amazing. [He thrusts and pulls another moan out of her.] You're...really good at this...

[ Watching her fluster and struggle for words, a ticklish thought crosses Hei's mind -- is this what Korra is like, when she's with someone she actually cares about? Had she been like this with that Mako kid? All girlish and confiding and wanting and unsure of herself? He feels like a peeping Tom, watching under false pretenses. ]

[ He wants to reassure her that's he's not looking for compliments. Instead he keeps his mouth at her ear, his breath fanning hot and moist. Eyes slipping shut, the better to just soak up her warmth, just feel himself possessing her. ] Nothing I don't want to do. [ He rubs his bristly cheek against her neck. ] Good is ... relative, anyway. [ His rhythm has changed. Not quite a cessation of movement. Instead he curls tighter in, his thrusts pushing closer. Deeper. Rocking against her sweetspot, so she can feel his matted pubic hair and the hard bone behind it, rasping and grinding against her clit. ]

[ His breathing shifts, not ragged but definitely out of sync. ]

Your pretty legs are good, wrapped around me. Those fingers in my hair, good. Your sopping little pussy -- very good. Making me feel right at home. [ It's almost playful. Less about the quality of the smutty talk, more about the quiet level of intimacy between them. It's not always about sex, Hei realizes -- though to dismiss that would be blatantly unfair, all things considered. ]

[That initial confession, maybe. But most of Korra's relationship with Mako, if you could call it that, consisted of arguments and truths that should have been whispered, not shouted. Hei is the only person to ever see Korra quite like this; its own kind of nudity.]

...good? [She's really not sure what to say to all of that, particularly with the way her body demands all of her attention. How is she supposed to form words or thoughts like this?]

Goes without saying.

[ He almost wants to tease her, but stops himself. Her words seem too salty and overwhelmed, as if the sensations are pressing in on her, and he'll be damned if he makes her uncomfortable. So he dips into a warm, hungry kiss to call her back to their rhythm, to him, to this, and makes it long, lingering, lush, his tongue slipping inside her mouth. He's still moving with her, languid and loose-limbed, but the fulcrum picks up now. An insistent grinding rhythm that makes his breath unravel, makes his belly and thighs tighten. There's a part of him that wants to let go, to fuck her hard and fast. To come. But there's a part of him that wants this to last because it makes his nerves chime like metal bells with how fucking good it is, how she lights him the fuck up inside, his brain dissolving in that glow. ]

[ For now, this friction of bodies and mouths, is enough. The grind, the roll and pitch. Between her thighs, his thumb continues its slow whorls. Their skins are slippery, a sheen of sweat between them; a hot clamminess. The air vibrates, elastic with potential. So much neediness thumping inside him. One massive thundering heartbeat. ]

Ha. Ha. [Except the sarcasm gets swallowed into his mouth, along with every other possible thought. Higher level thinking skills are a thing of the past. She moves solely by instinct now, her body matching the rhythm of his. She tightens around him like a whirlpool, dragging him deeper inside.]

[ She tightens around him, and Hei deliberately kisses her again.There is hunger, but no more hesitation. His free hand finds hers, palm to palm, fingers clasping tight. The other begins a fast flicking to her clit, more pressure and more friction. His hips rock against her with purpose now -- a tight swivel -- as he sinks in deep. Comes out and slides in again. Each kiss more intense than the last, each gasp twice as desperate, each stroke more fulfilling. He can feel Korra's pulse thubbing everywhere -- a cadence that affects him like her voice. Heat coiling down his spine until it crowds out his self-control. ]

[ The melting potency of her surrounding him, welcoming him, again and again .... It makes his misgivings seem tenuous. Whatever he is, whatever she doesn't and can't know about him, this is real. Impossible to call it a lapse of sanity. To dismiss it as logic eclipsed by lust. Because lust is simple. Using that word carves away all the muddled details that dangle off the edges of this affair. How much simpler things would be if all he and Korra wanted to do was fuck. But the truth is, he wants so much more, all wrapped up in that moment. He wants contact. Heat. He wants to know who he is and be known. To feel the erasure of all his flaws as that blinding rush of instinct erases everything else. ]

[ It's nothing more -- nothing less -- than a messy recursion. ]

[Lust is simple. Insanity isn't. And that's really what this entire relationship is, even if Korra doesn't admit it to herself. Bit by bit, fuck by fuck, they've created a world that's just for them. A world with little relation to sense or good judgement if you look at it from the outside, even though it makes perfect sense from within.

Sense is overrated anyway. Sense never felt as good as this.]

[ How does that saying go? I have lived on the lip of insanity, wanting to know reasons, knocking on a door. It opens. I've been knocking from the inside. Moments like these, Hei understands the truth of it. His days with the Syndicate were an undeceptive delirium; his mind building its own facts, constructing its own semblance of sanity, and living them out. He's been in the maw of madness, wielding lies, masks, blackmail and gunstocks for two damn decades. What would his life have been like if he'd never become an assassin? Stop it. Fine. He's used knives, garrotes and guns. He's destroyed people, been torn apart every-which-way from Sunday, lost his sister, lost his mind, lost his place, and is only just re-stitching them together. Few men are as lucky as he is, to have tasted life's breadth and depth. ]

[ And he's not holding a gunstock now. Just Korra. Who is a hurricane, but not destructive in and of herself. ]

[ His tongue swirls around the curve of her ear. Her tangled hair is in his mouth and the fingers of his hand are spread out across her back, while the other hand nudges a slick thumb against her clit. He wants so badly to see her come. The sight of her, sprawled beneath him in gorgeous disarray, affects him like a stimulant shot into the bloodstream -- presaging a loss of control, disorganization getting in, bleeding towards madness. ]

[She doesn't break with her usual scream. He's stolen too much of her breath for that. She comes with a strangled gasp, almost like it hurts (like any earthquake would). Her heels dig into his sides hard enough to bruise; her nails into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. She pants through the aftershocks, desperately grabbing for whatever air she can reach.]

[ When she peaks, nails and heels and everything tightening around him, Hei grunts, deep and low, his body jerking as if she's completed some electrical circuit. His hands feel electric too, skimming her body, circling and claiming her. Their skins stick and unstick; sweat-damp, glistening. He pushes hard against Korra, grinding from side to side, letting her ride the orgasm out. It's hypnotic, feeling that beautiful, girly gyration of her hips, with his cock stuck in all of that motion, in the middle, fucking into all that wildness. He kisses her through gritted teeth, hot and messy and open-mouthed. Begins to fuck her hard now, the way he likes, feeling his erection ache against the burning heat inside her. ]

[ It takes him longer to orgasm this time. Against his pinching fingers, Korra's clitoris feels swollen and tender. Somehow it matches the feeling in Hei's brain, in his groin, like all the blood in his body is congealing between his knees and belly. The climax throbs through him in thick, languid shudders, from his heels to his heart. Exhaling, he closes his eyes so that he won't black out. ]

[Funny how often pleasure and pain are the same thing with him. She whimpers with a mixture of both as he fucks her hard enough to bruise her insides. His climax is as much of a relief for her as it is for him.]

Ow. [Not a complaint by any means. She melts into the bed, knowing that her muscles are screaming complaint but the post-coital high is like cotton in her ears. Nothing actually hurts.]

[ The cooldown happens by degrees, a slow descent into sanity. His breathing, then the slackening of his muscles, and after that he can start to process the world again -- but only in bits and pieces. He doesn't roll off Korra. At least not at once. There's sweat at his temples, arms closed loosely around her, and there's a sloppy sort of gratitude in the way he kisses her, his eyes half-lidded and his lips flushed from it. Not pounding her anymore. Just thanking her. He feels undone, completely unraveled, and there's enough sense returning that it's terrifying. ]

[ Maybe that's the reason why his voice sounds so quiet when he murmurs, ]

We're both going to need painkillers.

Mmmm. [When he rolls off her, she'll roll with him, resting her head against his chest. She's not going to give him the space she usually does; another penalty for his treatment earlier. He still owes her. (Like it's a simple debt to be repaid.) She nuzzles his shoulder and half-sighs, half-yawns.] Probably.

[Sleep sounds more important than painkillers, to be honest.]

[ There's a familiar instinct to nudge her off. To reassert his own space, even if it's in the confines of his mind. But he doesn't want to be separated from her warmth, from her sticky delicious flesh. All that's present is a desire to stretch his legs. Catlike, he ripples against her, face split by a yawn of his own. How exhausted he feels, after what was, after all, so brief. He doesn't want to fall asleep; at the same time, it's a fast-encroaching inevitability. With sluggish fingers, he knots up and tosses the condom. Then he's scooching in beside her, Korra's leg caught between his two, settling his cheek on the top of her head. Completely limp, as if he's been poured across her. ]

[ One hand goes to her breast, smoothing it with a soft rhythmic motion. In a whisper, he amends, ]

Lots of painkillers.

[ Just a warning, that he might wake her up again at some point in the night. ]

[She huffs a little with sleepy laughter.]

I can't tell if that's a threat or a promise.

[Lies. She's already looking past the much-needed sleep to when they'll be able to do this again.]

[ Hei almost smiles, his breathing slowly deepening out against Korra's skin. One hand continues skimming her body: breast, belly, sex, thighs -- languid, exploratory. Part of him thinks, even now, that cuddling is deplorably overrated. At the most, something so popular should be more convenient. His bones are digging into the blunt edges of Korra's, the bed is almost too narrow for this, he soon won't be able to feel his right hand and, honestly, he's already lost sensation along his right leg. But the warmth, the softer parts tucked together, the folds of You-Me gathered neatly in a mismatched braid ... it all makes it work. ]

[ His slurred whisper vibrates against her temple. ] Depends on the mood I wake up in. [ Not that he won't make it worth her while, either way. ]

Just don't make me hurt you.

[ Hei starts to say, I won't. Unless that's what I'm angling for. ]

[ But now isn't the time for snark. His eyelids are so heavy. He wants to stay awake as long as she is; this is the first time he's talked to her like this since they've started this maelstrom of an affair. His hand finds its way between her thighs, instead, palm pressing against her. A strange possessive gesture, but his lips are soft when he tips a kiss to her forehead. ]

[ Saying Goodnight, somehow, seems both too formal and too final. So he doesn't bother. Just lets his eyes slip shut, and curls closer as the darkness settles in. ]

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♦♦ 33RD CONTRACT - ANONYMOUS TEXT/ACTION

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