poly_chromatic | ♦♦ 16th Contract [Video/Action]

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darker than black - hei

♦♦ 16th Contract [Video/Action]

Nothing's changed here. The usual idiotic curses. The usual whining.

But it beats the alternative.

A poisonous plant to symbolize romance. It fits.

[ 'Li' occupies a bench, legs stretched out before him. His head is tipped back to watch the stars, the curve of adam's apple silhouetted against the dark by a streetlamp. The loose lines of his body, the colder pitch in his voice, telegraph an ennui that is ... not very 'Li.' ]

[ He must be tired. That's the safest explanation. ]

......... I guess the City can expect an outbreak of mononucleosis in the coming weeks.

[ Definitely tired. Or. Something. ]

[ Action: Returning to the City isn't as disorienting as it should be. Not with Hei's frame of mind, or the recent pattern of his weeks. He appreciates the (relative) security of not being on the run, looking constantly over his shoulder. Settling into himself, no longer hyper-aware and jerky, will take more time; his mind still has a transient atmosphere he associates with airports. But when is that different from usual? ]

[ By Thursday, he's made an appointment at the hospital and visited a doctor, leaving with a fistful of pamphlets, prescriptions, antibiotics, and a renewed appreciation for modern medicine as opposed to back-alley stitches and homemade anesthetics. He re-checks his apartments, the safe-houses Underground, his Network Device (any newcomers? departures?) and transmits a message to Mao. ]

[ He doesn't stay home to sleep. Still too wired on slow-fading adrenaline. But after walking a while, he does find a bar, and within that bar, a few shots of bitter. (Bitter in, bitter out, huh?) Hands in pockets, he wanders the City, not sure of his direction, feeling disconnected on the unpeopled streets. It's a cool night; no snowfall. The bed of stars above fascinates him. Settling on a bench, he picks out constellations. ]

[ This is good. Just sitting here and taking in the quiet chirr of crickets, no traffic, no bullets, nothing exploding, just. Imperfect silence. ]

[ Too bad he doesn't notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging nearby. ]

[ OOC: Hei is back from his canon update, with a slight distaste for his now-redundant alias 'Li' -- although he'll continue to derp it up for the sake of security/appearances. If you want to run into him for kissus~♥ feel free. But pls note, he may shove you away/bitchslap, or fluster-&-flail like the fakest of mfers. Reactions are upto you<3 ]

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[ Under the mistletoe's orbit, her proximity gives him a feeling he doesn't know what to do with. So, like all unidentified emotions or ideas, he shelves it aside. From the corner of his eye, he traces her profile. She seems intent. Focused. Very not-Korra. It's charming, though. He follows her finger, and his lips twitch into a wry smile. ]

[ What're the odds that she'd pick a star near-identical in luminosity to BK201? ]

That's a good one. Bright. [ His voice quiet, almost thoughtful, as if he's just making a passing observation. He moves his hand to sketch a shape. ] All right. See those two stars? [ Connected in a row to her chosen star, twinkling. ] Those are arms. And that spiral above? That's a head. The long sprinkles of reds could be hair. [ A pause, his eyes flicking innocently to hers, ] Or you've just set your hair on fire.

[Korra's nose scrunches up as she tries to see what Li is pointing out. All she really sees are a sprinkle of stars across the sky. But if she tries really, really hard, she can...kind of?... picture it?

At the mention of fire, she rolls her eyes.]

Yeah, right. [She hasn't set her hair on fire since she was three. She may be lacking in discretion and restraint, but she had learned control very quickly.] More like your head.

[She shifts position slightly, not moving closer so much as readjusting herself, but it's enough to trigger the curse.

She closes the distance between them and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth in a soft kiss. She lingers there, and not even she could tell whether it's the curse or her own desire that keeps her close.]

[ Hei still has a hand raised, focused on mapping the sky out. The sea of stars, so different from his world, makes him remember the Gate. Of how Amber had offered her terrible sacrifice, let him go free, and how it had meant everything she'd not meant for it to mean; a part of Hei was tied to her forever now. ]

[ ......Thank you, Amber. ]

[ When Korra kisses him, he's startled. But not for long. A cursory sweep reveals the culprit -- Damn mistletoe. But then his hand drops to his lap, and he turns his head, nose brushing Korra's. Hot breath foreshadows a hotter mouth as he leans into her kiss, languid and hungry, his eyes dropping shut. Her temperature is different. Alive. But it's the same mouth, the same pillow of lips. He brings one gloved hand to her cheek, and the other, which was resting in his lap, moves to her leg -- a warm starfish. It doesn't matter if it's a curse. Or an excuse. ]

[ This is the first good sensation he's had since leaving Tokyo. ]

[She lets out a quiet hum of pleasure. His lips are cooler than she remembers. Everything about him is just a little bit different, except for the taste -- metallic and a little bitter, a mixture of alcohol and something uniquely him.

She's spent the past month with awkward memories and guilty fantasies. The reality is infinitely better.

Never certain what to do with her hands, she rests one on top of Li's, her fingers curling just slightly as though to hold it. The other clutches the back of the bench, anchoring her in place in case she floats away...or tries to pull him closer.]

[ She hums, and he makes a noise of his own into their kiss, pleased and greedy in the same breath. He's different in more ways than she realizes. He's accrued more setbacks, scars, deaths and disappointments. He's too altered in himself by what he knows. An uncanny sense passes through him, that he's offering intimacy meant for someone else, someone who can't be here to accept it. ]

[ But that isn't true. ]

[ He lies to people all the time, indulges in their illusions of him. He's indulging himself with no illusions tonight. The hand on Korra's cheek moves to thread into her hair. Gently, he tugs her closer. Parts her lips with his for slow, tongue-tracing kisses. Back and forth, without pressure. The hand on her lap shifts, palm to palm. He squeezes and holds on. It's clear he wants her here, but it's implicit that he won't keep her here if she doesn't want to be. ]

[He wouldn't be the only one. Korra still wears Mako's scarf every day, as though somehow it connects her to him. When he'd been here, she had wanted nothing more than to let him go. They had fought, and then he had left before she had the chance to make things right. She clings tightly to his scarf, some small part of her hoping that if she just loves him hard enough, he'll be able to feel it and forgive her.

The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation.

But it's not Mako she's kissing. The young firebender may be a constant presence in her heart, but Li is not a substitute, or a distraction, or a consolation prize. He is something unique, and right now, there is no other place she'd rather be.

She lets him pull her closer, enjoying the slow and unusually gentle kiss. She laces her fingers through his and holds tight.

Even enemies can become friends. Suddenly, absurdly, she pictures young Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko kissing on a bench like this, and she unsuccessfully chokes down a laugh.]

Edited (WRONG WORD ARGH!) 2012-12-23 01:42 (UTC)

[ Hei feels the buzz of her laugh. He wants to ask, What's so funny? But he doesn't want to stop this kiss, which is really a lot of kisses, over and over. Even now, he never does things by halves. The palm in her hair tingles hungrily, wanting to slip lower, to squeeze, to explore. The nylon shell of his coat rustles as his body shifts in increments to melt up along hers. But he doesn't presume or push; the kisses stay soft and open-mouthed, though not without heat. They'd fed off each other's energy that first time, a catalytic dance: lots of sparkage and fast results. ]

[ This feels like slow burn. ]

[ He renews their kisses for a long time before stopping. But he doesn't draw away. His fingers stay twined with hers. His words, however, are a leave-taking. ]

...I should get going.

[ It would be easy to invite her back to his flat. He's in need of stress relief. But twice will start to feel like habit. Hei doesn't make habits of anything. Those are for people with the luxury of routine. Real routines, not contrived ones like his to throw off tails or establish a pattern to meet teammates. It doesn't stop how his lips tingle as the words pass them, though. He can still taste her mouth. ]

[She can't help a little whimper of protest when he breaks away. When he speaks, her heart drops into her stomach. She'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is it; this is the moment when the life in his eyes dies, his voice becomes cold and his words cruel. It happens every time. She clings to his hand, ready for a fight.

But he doesn't try to pull away. She searches his eyes -- unreadable, but still human.]

Do you have to?

[She's warm and tingly all over, and every moment with him is a risk, but it's better than going back to face the zoo her apartment has become, the landloord she doesn't know how to deal with, and the fact she's having strong reservations about the job she accepted today.]

[ Do I have to? Hei's eyes are half-lidded, dark-circled. But he regards her full-on. She's clear as water right now, every emotion floating to the surface. He knows there's an incipient interest for him, on her part. It's mutual, if not identical or equal. It'd be easy to take advantage of it. He's hurt her before and he's half-sure he'll do it again, because she wants him. Human or Contractor, he's selfish enough to snatch a fresh golden apple. ]

[ Yet, for a minute, he half-wishes he could put every mark and barfly from the past back on her stool –- to have saved himself the desensitization, so he can ask her to come up to his apartment without feeling dirty, and without a mental image of Mao's aghast What are you doing, you idiot? or Huang giving him that sidelong glance; You heartless bastards make it look so easy. ]

[ Breath held, he counts her eyelashes. Fuck it. He's gone this far. ]

You could come with me.

[ It's more suggestion than invitation. She's free to read it either way. He studies not her face, but her hands, rubbing her fingers with his thumbs. ]

[Her stomach churns, and for a moment it's like she forgets how to breathe. She understands the invitation behind his words.

Korra's not so much a decisive person as an impulsive one. She can make a split second decision and follow it through, but give her too much time to consider her options and she waffles. There are too many variables -- what she wants, what others expect of her, what Aang would do, what she's supposed to do. They overwhelm her.

Her White Lotus masters would never approve. Tenzin would be furious. Her parents would be disappointed in her. It's not like it even ended well last time, but she still wants it. Still wants him. She doesn't want to disappoint anyone more than she already has, but she's tired of hiding in the shower, of stolen moments and illicit fantasies. Aang would understand, wouldn't he?

It feels like she struggles with this forever, but it's really the work of a short moment.]

Okay.

[When overwhelmed, she quits and goes with instinct, and instinct isn't ready to let go of his hand just yet.]

[ Her dilemma isn't something Hei would understand. It's been years since he's had to deal with anyone's expectations of him outside the Syndicate's aegis. His profession has isolated him but it's also stabilized his self-reliance and decisiveness; he knows what he wants and feels no qualms or embarrassments about taking it. ]

[ While she mulls things over, he stares quite plainly, like he's infatuated with her, but it isn't romantic. It's dark and half-calculating; his intensity rooted in pure self-satisfaction. Don't. He shouldn't make this a repeat; worse than a repeat, a brutal mockery, of the first time in the shed. It would end in rage and tears on her part -- and regret on his. He doesn't fully understand what she means to him. But she has consequence. He wants not to snap this tenuous thread of closeness they have going. ]

[ Take it easy. One step at a time. ]

[ Rising, he draws her to her feet. Tucks her smaller hand with his into his coat pocket. The distance back to his flat isn't long. He moves at a steady pace beside her, not too close, not too far, looking like he's just marking time, or at least doing the world's best imitation of a man who's just marking time. ]

[ But when he's led Korra to the door of his flat, he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before letting go to fish out his keys. ]

[Korra walks beside him, clinging tightly to his hand and keeping her eyes on the ground so she can't see the other people on the street. They can probably tell what she's about to do; she can practically feel their judgement. She tries to remind herself that she's nobody here, that nobody cares, but it's hard to believe when she's spent her entire life being watched and assessed, forever compared to Avatar Aang, her life laid out in what people said were his wishes.

Short as the distance is, it gives her too much time to think and question and fear. It's a relief when they reach his building and she no longer feels like people are watching. A different kind of nervousness builds up, a dizzy mixture of excitement and fear. She wraps her arms around her stomach and leans against the wall as he fishes for his keys.]

I didn't know you were so close by.

[Nervous chatter]

[ He reads her chatter for what it is. There's an impulse to smile. Instead he opens the door and extends a hand, a silent Come in. ] That, or the walk didn't feel as long as it was. [ Face it. If she'd been viewing the destination with dread, it would've been far longer. He shuts the door behind her, the lock clicking in. Over the cycling fridge, the snick is eerily loud. He's not used to sharing his space this way. Back home, he'd seldom allowed strangers back to his place when there were motels to be had. And even then, those one-nighters had only replaced one wariness with another. There was no guarantee the pretty thing you slept with wasn't an enemy. He was always on-guard, no matter how benign the girl seemed. Follow Contractors on the same mission were worse. Conversations were like duels. Beds were fields of challenge. ]

[ Hard to let go, to capitulate. Afterwards, he'd always slept alone. ]

[ Korra isn't as complicated as that. He has no idea if she'll stay the night. He won't presume. During their short trip here, he'd kept his hands and mouth to himself, even if his thoughts were absorbed only in getting her past the door, into bed, having her with force and few words. But now everything seems to slow down. Closing the gap between them, he draws her in. His mouth presses to hers, snatching a light kiss that grows an inch stronger with insistence. ]

[ Kissing really is the easy part, for her. He's learnt this right away. It serves to calm her down. ]

Edited 2012-12-23 05:06 (UTC)

[She follows him inside and looks around the apartment with interest. It's remarkably barren. Most people filled their homes with pictures and knickknacks, trying to imbue the place with their essence. Li clearly has made no such attempt. Some people may have found that creepy, but Korra isn't bothered by it. Honestly, this is pretty close to what her own apartment would have looked like if she hadn't lived with Asami and the others. She doesn't care much for things.

She barely has a chance to take off her jacket before he pulls her in for another kiss. She lets out a pleased hum and relaxes into him, but there's still the issue of her jacket. She was raised to not just leave things lying on the ground.]

Where should I put this?

[She murmurs the question against his lips, reluctant to leave their dizzy, languid heat even for the sake of manners.]

[ Hei knows the right etiquette here is let her hang up her coat, ask her if she wants something to drink. A shame, unlike 'Li', he's never been much for manners. Any break in their physical conversation keeps dropping him heavily back to earth, ideas spiking from energized to cold and heavy. There's still a sense of detachment inside, an undifferentiated weariness. It won't go away, he knows, because when a problem is inside you, you take it everywhere you go. No amount of fighting, work or sex -- although they all are palliatives -- will quite dispel it. ]

[ Maybe it will never go away. Maybe it's just who he is. ]

[ It's not something he cares to parse out, right here and now. ]

Anywhere. [ It's said in a quiet way that seems to enforce end of questions, and not only because he has better things to be doing with his mouth. It's not like she's carrying frags or wires. He knows that much. He rubs his hands over her cool jacket, feeling her under it, feeling her against him, before peeling the material off himself. Lets it drop on the back of the adjacent couch, as he catches her lower-lip and sucks. He's rougher than their one kiss prior. But touches are tells. He wonders just how much she can tell from his. ]

[Hey, if it doesn't bother him, she's not going to complain. She lets him peel off the jacket and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her body tight against him. She'd enjoyed the gentle kisses, but it's the rough kiss that really sets her body aflame and she makes her appreciation known.

At the same time, it makes a small part of her nervous. It reminds her too much of that night in the shed, when his touch was feverish and his mind thousands of miles away. The first time she had really seen him go from something human to something not.

She doesn't want to go down that road again. This is important. Important enough that she pulls away, far enough to look into his eyes.]

You're not going to go away again, are you? into your head?

[This is a dealbreaker. She's not expecting love or romance from, but she wants him to be present. She doesn't want to be something for his body to do while his mind is elsewhere.]

[ Dizzy and greedy, Hei doesn't want to have this conversation. Not now. There's a dim annoyance that she'd ask him that at all, a slow spark of resentment that she's making demands. In her naivety, she doesn't realize fucking in all its vagaries. Not everyone can be present, can engage at 100%. Some don't even want to. Others are too damaged to try. And psychological detachment is easy -- expected -- in his line of work. It's an ironclad rule. He's never enjoyed seducing his marks. Always remained largely in his head. Deep-cover is a risky business with a wide margin of error. To survive, you stay vigilant. That requires detachment on multiple levels: physical, emotional, psychological. ]

[ You can't maintain much sang froid if you're getting off. Come on. ]

[ She's not a mark, idiot. He understands what Korra's asking for. That night in the shed, he'd had sex with her to get out of his head for a while. And all those creepy-crawlies inside had tumbled out with him. Except his psyche tonight isn't identical to then. He isn't identical to then. He knows better how to hold himself, how to keep it inside. Once this is over, he may withdraw. But it won't be as dramatic as getting up and leaving. ]

I'm not going anywhere. [ His lips flutter against hers, more air than flesh. His smile is a wry one, but there's a trace of sincerity. Real or manufactured, that's for her to determine. ] Except the preferred places. [ Innuendo, Korra. Do you speak it? ]

[Even if she did know, it wouldn't have changed her question. Korra knows how she wants to be treated, and she's not afraid to demand it.

It's hard to feel completely reassured -- twice bitten at this point -- but his words and smile will do for now. If something happens... she'll cross that bridge when they get there. She's different from that night in the shed too. Alive. Stronger. If she has to, she'll take what she wants or walk away. That's what she's always had to do for the things that really matter: Naga, Republic City, her freedom.

As for innuendo... his final words earn him a blush and an eyeroll.]

Shut up.

[Her annoyance is belied by the way she bites his lip and rubs against his pelvis -- rewards for good behavior.]

[ High standards, those. But at her age, the watchword is happiness while in Hei's world, it is survival. The two aren't known for being mutually inclusive. Still, she can afford the idealism, here and now, just as he can afford this reprieve. In the dark apartment, he's not relaxed, but he's on his way there, and she's desirable in something a little like the way he'd desired something else -- not a person, but a moment, a frame of mind. It makes him want to sweep her up, carry her to bed, without preliminaries or discussion. In the dark she can be whatever he wants. ]

[ But he doesn't want her to be anything other than Korra. ]

[ He presses into her kiss to muffle a sound of pleasure, a shivering exhale. His hands slide along her sides and behind her, pulling her against him, feeling the familiar lines of her under her clothes; shelf of hip, curve of waist and ribcage. He barely brushes his fingertips across her breasts. Despite the layers of shirt and gloves, her body-heat makes his palms tingle. She didn't do this, that first time, radiate this amazing warmth. ]

[ Curious, how something as small as temperature can alter a mood. Make everything seem strange and brand new. ]

[Her nails dig into his neck as he traces her body. It's part reflex and part memory, how he'd seemed to enjoy it last time. Everything feels so much more intense now. She's a little dizzy, her breath falling into a strange, syncopated rhythm.

She stands up on tiptoes to get a better angle on his lips, but mostly as an excuse to rub against him. Her fingers itch to explore, but she keeps them in place. She wants to take her time with this. Unusual for her, who's usually pushing to go harder, faster. There are some things that are worth savoring slowly, though; even she knows that.]

[ Hei's senses betray him into that pleased hitch-and-sigh at the touch of her nails. Arching up against her, he meets her heat with his own, hands splayed out over the planes of her torso. An advantage of an eidetic memory is that he remembers what to do just from that one encounter, so he runs his tongue against the ridges at the roof of her mouth, breaking down memory to high-points of sensation, pulling her focus into the wet glide of his tongue. ]

[ He's usually goal-oriented. Not one to draw things out, to linger and please. (Get in, get off, get out, isn't that the phrase? ). But he wants to get the absolute most out of this encounter before the inevitable crash-and-burn and whatever unclaimed mental baggage it'll spring. ]

[ He pulls back with a low hum, drawing Korra's bottom lip with him just enough to sting a little, then breaks away to shuck his coat and gloves. They're piled neatly atop her coat, before his fingers hook under the hem of her shirt, inching it up and off. Too many layers, and there's other places he wants to peruse (pursue) with fingertips and teeth and tongue. ]

[It's only as Korra helps him pull off her shirt that she realizes she's dressed in the worst possible way for this. She's wearing her traditional undershirt today. It offers more warmth and support than the bras she bought with Asami, and she just finds it more comfortable overall. Familiar.

It has a lot of little hooks. A lot, running in a line from her left shoulder to her waist, pulling the heavy cotton tight across her chest. It's annoying to put on in the mornings, but it keeps her from bouncing too much no matter how many spinkicks and flips she does, so it's well worth the effort. But right now? It's just an obstacle, and she lets out a little frustrated moan.]

[ There's a moment of -- not surprise, but reorientation at what her stripped shirt reveals. She's wearing a -- he has no idea what to call it (yes, he does; the word Liangdang flits past his memory's fingers). The strangest piece in that it's not strange at all. The silk and colorful threads have a familiar pattern. Not a sexy, Chinese-Dragon-Ladies-of-Hollywood sort of thing, but very real in that it's organic, not synthetic. ]

[ He's not sure why, but that little scrap of cloth reveals more about her world and culture than all their conversations so far. ]

Better than a straitjacket.

[ The corner of his mouth curls, a not-quite-smirk. His expressions aren't as easy to catalogue as her's. But given time enough, maybe she'll learn that the dry remark, the arched brow, transmit kindness, not cruelty. The dim light isn't ideal to work with. But it doesn't take him long to make sense of the hooks, and get to work. On a good day, he's partial to puzzles. Even colorful traps like these. But right now, his fingers feel thorny, like his ideas. He knows he shouldn't tear the thing off. But, oh, he wants to. ]

[ When the undershirt is off, he lets it fall wherever. Her clothes have the same significance as semantics for him, by now. Here, there, anywhere, as long as they're off. ]

[If it's any consolation, Korra would like nothing more than to rip it off too, except it's from home and she has yet to find anything like it in the City. At first she fumbles, trying to help him, but she's just in the way. She ends up clinging to his waist, letting go only when he's done with the hooks so she can slide the garment off.

She pulls him in again for another kiss, moaning a little as the coarse fabric of his shirt rubs against her sensitive skin. She reaches down, not sure yet whether she'll try to take his shirt off or just slip her hands underneath, only that she wants to feel his skin.]

[ There's a nip of teeth at Korra's bottom lip as Hei's presses against her, his sweater feeling itchy and overwarm, despite the cool air. When her hands drift down, into the space between them, he reads the message, parting from her just enough to peel his shirt off, a zip of static making his hair dance. 'Li' is the klutz for whom this simple move would end in getting tangled in the brace of armholes and sleeves. Hei does it neatly, tossing the sweater to join the pile of coats, draped on the couch. ]

[ He's glad for the dim lighting. Even so, she may notice a new geography of scars on his skin; flat, dark marks of knife wounds and worse, divots and old bruises. Some quite recent, raised and welted like braille under the fingers. Leftovers from battles back home. ]

[ Precluding questions, he draws her in; a rushed inhale at the skin on skin contact. Playacting at sweetness, lips fluttering across her ear, the line of her jaw, her neck. But he doesn't leave kisses. He leaves bites, not sharp but indulgently rough, setting a mood -- tangyhot rather than syrupsweet. His hands move too, not fast but with purpose, spanning across the beads of vertebrae at the center of her back, along her pinched waist, feeling it broaden to her ribcage. Both hands mold around her breasts, weighing them gently, tugging the nipples between his fingers, sharp pinches to feel her heartbeat, draw out sounds. ]

Edited 2012-12-24 05:43 (UTC)

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let the record reflect: henceforth nsfw

Indeed B]

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