So I wrote this for my Tumblr, but I thought it turned out good so I'm just going to leave this here. By the way, I literally have only a page or so left to write of the next installment of Cerulean before I go ahead and send it over to my beta reader for editing. Thank you for you patients, and as always, enjoy!
The Legend of Korra does not belong to me. I stake no claims on the characters used in this here fanfiction. All rights go to Bryke.
Awkward was a disgusting understatement for the situation Korra found herself tangled in. His hands were not where they should be, resting on places where hands of friends should not even dare to touch. His face was close, his molten colored eyes scanning over every feature of her face―her vivid sapphire eyes wide and alert, the curve of her nose, the full shape of her flushed cheeks, and finally her parted mouth―white and perfectly aligned teeth peeking behind her full lips.
She was drowning in the intensity of his stare, her heart erratic and ears ringing. His eyes were so exotic, scenic even. Large, shaped like almonds, framed in long dark lashes. She examined the pattern of his irises, then his eyelids closed, he tipped her chin up with a finger, and he was moving closer, closer until there was nothing but a small breath of air between their lips. One hand tightened on her waist, while the other hand pressed firmly to the small of her back, pulling her closer until her chest was flat against his.
Friends should not be this close…
Friends. They agreed to be friends. Just a harmless platonic friendship with absolutely no strings attached. They would see each other periodically, if not, every once in a blue moon. After all, Korra had been busy with cleaning up the city and dealing with the new changes thrusted upon the world after the Harmonic Convergence. And Mako, well he wasn't that busy. His life then consisted of falling back into the swing of his work as a newly promoted detective for The Republic City Police Force.
But there Mako and Korra stood, knotted tightly in a spontaneous and numbing splendor of intimacy.
The weave of friendship they had so carefully sowed was unraveling at their feet. That line they had drawn in on their hearts had been crossed, and everything they held back had come spilling out.
Mako swallowed up the sliver of space between them, his lips catching Korra's softly at first, but as the easy and steady movement of her lips against his grew more comfortable with him, the kiss turned wild―untamed. His trembling hands weaved through her lose waves of coffee color hair, his fingers closing around the back of her head. Korra's hands ribboned around his back, splaying out on the chords of ripping muscle under his shirt before her hands fisted, clutching the material in her white knuckles.
Mako's mouth opened against her's, his tongue delving into Korra's mouth and wrapping around hers.
He tasted like smoke, the smell of husky ashes rolling off Mako's tongue.
Korra tasted like like something unworldly, like the cool bland taste of water, the soft pungent aroma of flowers, the exhilarating tang of fire, the lightheaded feeling of a string blowing wind.
Korra was the first to break the kiss, her face inching away slowly as her eyes fluttered open. Korra casted her eyes down, unable to look at the broken promise before her. Ever so slowly Korra backed out of Mako's arms, his grip slackening enough to let her go.
His arms fell to his sides, a surge of guilt and contented bliss blossoming in the pit of his stomach.
"That shouldn't have happened." It came like a ghost of a whisper off Korra's tongue. She fixed her eyes on Mako's, her knees weak. "Friends don't kiss friends." And then Korra was gone from his sight, fleeing from the room.
Mako's feet stay planted where he stood, his fingers trembling at his side and his legs shaking under his weight.
He tasted fire on his tongue long after the door closed behind her.