The snow falls in fat flakes from the gray, featureless sky. Even so, the Southern Water Tribe is out and about, going about their daily business happily. The buzz of the marketplace is familiar to him, and almost calming. The snow and the biting wind, however, is much less common to him, and his shoulders shake from the cold.
A wrinkled piece of paper tells him the way from the port to the temple where Korra does much of her spiritual training. Tenzin has said that around lunchtime she is always there (or she should be, at least), meditating.
When he reaches the temple, the door is unlocked, and he slips in as quietly as he can manage, slicking back his hair and trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He hasn't seen her since they came back here after the fight with Amon in Republic City. It had been four long months of letters, wondering, and yearning.
It hurts him the most to know that, for a while, his brother had won the fight to get her. He holds a sick sort of pride, though, in knowing that their relationship only lasted a rocky two months, ending in a fight that would have been news worthy had it not been so sad.
He finds her staring at a burning stick of sandalwood incense, her chest rising and falling slowly as she falls into a trance. His eyes brighten as he walks over, as quietly as his stocky legs can manage, Despite his best efforts, though, a board in the floor creaks and he sees her jump and turn around.
"Who's there?" she demands, brows furrowed.
He grins and puts his palms up in a sort of surrender. "Just me."
For a moment she remains confused and defensive. Then, her eyes light up, and almost instantly her arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and she is grinning wider than he has seen in a very long time. "Bo!" she exclaims, and he laughs brightly into her hair.
"Hey!" Bolin squeezes her tight, marveling at the feeling of her smooth, taut muscle under his hands.
"Where have you been?" she demands, laughing. "I told you to come visit me!"
He pulls away a bit. "Well... I thought it might be awkward, you know, with the whole Mako thing... I didn't want to upset you or anything..." Korra notices that Bolin is really awful at keeping a straight face, because he's grinning that trademark goofy grin that she just can't stand.
She rolls her eyes dramatically, pouting and making those amazing pink lips even more enticing. "I wanted to see you, not him. Now come on, let's go to my place."
Her bedroom is sparse. It's no wonder, really; between Avatar training and monitoring the status of the Equalists, she's barely in there. They sit cross-legged on her bed, which is nothing more than a pile of skins and pillows on top of a mat on the floor. Happily, they make small talk, catching up on what letters can't convey. Soon enough they find themselves inexplicably closer to each-other, having inched closer and closer as they talked. Their noses nearly touch, and his breath tickles her lips.
She blushes, looking down. "Hi."
He grins, and his hands find themselves planted on her knees, his thumbs tracing little circles in the brown fabric. "Hi there."
Her eyes flit back up to meet his, and he is startled at how amazingly blue they are at this distance. Butterflies twisting in his stomach, he wonders what to do. He's so desperate not to mess it up, not to make it awkward and painful like it became the last time he tried, but she's just so beautiful and he can't stand it...
Fuck it.
It's very sudden and somewhat confusing but his hands are on her hips and now already she's sucking on his lip, fingers tangled in his hair like she's hanging on to the edge of a cliff. In one strong yank she's in his lap, and the way her chest presses against his makes him want to scream. When her tongue finds its sneaking way between his lips, he groans, and she feels the vibration of it into her throat.
Heart pounding, he pulls away, now peppering kisses on her cheeks, her chin, her jaw, her neck, all the while whispering throatily, "Spirits, Korra... I want you so bad... oh spirits..."
She smiles, rubbing her palms along his back. "I know." Her grin is cocky, but when he sucks hard on her earlobe, she is suddenly brought down from her pedestal, moaning quietly at the new and acute sensation. Her fists clench as his tongue runs over the sensitive skin, and he grins in triumph.
His lips continue their happy assault on her neck, and he's amazed at just how natural this all feels. The butterflies in his stomach are surely creating tornadoes, but it's such an ecstatic feeling that he never wants to stop. He has to, though, when she grabs him by the cheeks and forces her tongue into his mouth.
Bolin's hands begin to roam, calloused fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt to tickle her stomach, skirt over her hips, slowly slip their way up so that eventually, and without warning, Korra's shirt is somewhere across the room.
His smile widens into a goofy, toothy grin. "Wow," he sighs, and the laugh that falls from her lips in response is twinkling. His palms slide over the curvature of his hips, and again he sighs, "Wow."
And once again Bolin's lips are feverishly assaulting her skin. Tiny sucking kisses on her belly give way to loving purple bruises on her ribs that make her squirm and moan in agonizing, painful pleasure. By someone's hand (afterwards, they're not terribly sure to whom it belonged) her bindings come loose, and his pupils grow wide and dark at the sight of her breasts.
What follows is the craziest thing that either of them have ever experienced. It becomes somewhat of a war, with pushing and biting and sucking and groaning and groping and it all goes so breathlessly fast that an hour could have passed without their knowing. Bolin's shirt is eventually lost among the pillows, and Korra's pants begin to shimmy down her hips, revealing, inch by inch, more skin for him to worship. The feeling of his bare, sweating skin against hers is so mind-blowing, and he feels his pants slowly become too constricting. Part of him wants to care, take a break and calm himself down before something more embarrassing happens, but most of him is too busy sucking on her breasts to really want to change anything.
He feels so at home with her in his arms. In the most cliched of ways, it feels as if he is holding his long-lost missing piece, and he wonders if he should ever let her go. He feels such pride in making her blush, and he realizes how good it makes him feel, too, as his fingers are nervously exploring the curves and folds of the heat that drives her mad. He finds his rhythm, and she is spilled out over the floor, gripping hard onto the curls at the back of his head, eyes alternating between wide-open and shut tight enough to hurt.
He's good, she realizes as her words slur and her thoughts blend together. The only thing she can even partially manage to say is his name, over and over again like some sort of sick strange chant. He grins, kissing up and down her neck softly as the two fingers pumping in and out become three, and she nearly screams at the stretching, only stopping when he puts his lips to hers, hard and rough.
And suddenly she is falling, bathed in white hot ecstasy. Her hips buck and her chest heaves as her voice fades into a broken moan, incoherent and gravelly. He bathes her in kisses as she comes down, panting and bright red.
She smiles once she has come down all the way. "Wow."
"How was that?" he asks with a delicate kiss on her cheek.
"Really good. Wow."
He grins. "Anything for you."