I requested prompts from the Semi-NSFW meme on tumblr and decided to cross-post them on here as well. As such, the prompts technically don't build upon one another, although I'll attempt to put them together in some sort of coherent order. More will be added as I fill the corresponding prompts.

19. Having a wet dream and calling the other's name during it.

The gentle rock of the ship would go unnoticed by Mako on any other night, but tonight it's enough to encourage his exhausted body's inevitable collapse, and he sinks into the semi-comfortable bed in his small quarters. He rolls over on his bed, thankful for once that Bolin is staying in a different room instead of bunking with him. This way, he'll have plenty of time to stare at the metal ceiling overhead and dwell on how badly he fucked everything up as they float back to Republic City.

He pulls off his scarf and reaches for the night stand at his head, setting his scarf down and turning off the small light straining to illuminate the room, groaning at the way his body both aches from and enjoys the extension. He settles onto his back, running his hands over his face and through his hair, before clasping his hands together atop the crown of his head, his elbows jutting out at the sides.

He can't remember the last time he was this tired.

He can't remember the last time he was this miserable.

He rolls onto his side, determined not to think about them tonight, about how his relationship with Korra had become such a mess. It shouldn't be this way, not when he still loves her, not when she still loves him. Instead of lying here alone, she should be here. He should be pressing kisses to the back of her neck while she told him about her concerns over opening the portal; she should be in his arms, reliving every detail of their lives that the other had missed in their absence.

He flips over again, pulling his pillow over his head, and everything falls silent. The chiding voices in his head disappear, their nagging and insulting comments gone, the quiet finally allowing him to let his eyes drift to a close, when he hears a knock on his door. When he rolls onto his back and props himself up on his elbows, his room looks different, bigger, brighter even in the dark, full of a hazy blue tint filtering in through the small key-hole window on the steel wall. He feels…lighter, warmer.

The door opens before he responds, his heart lurching from his chest to his throat at the figure that appears before him.

"Korra, what are you doing here?"

She crosses to his place on the bed, shaking her head, bringing her finger to her lips as a hint to stay quiet. She climbs over him, straddling his hips, as she slides her hand gently across his face, fingers brushing against his hair, her thumb pressing lightly against his lips. It's been months since he's seen her like this, her hair down, the loose fitting shirt she'd taken to wearing at night, his stolen pair of boxers that threaten to fall off of her hips. His eyes wander as she places kisses against his cheek, the edge of his jaw, the column of his neck, and he realizes she isn't wearing her bindings when she gently pushes him back onto the bed, the neckline gaping as she leans further into him.

Something about this doesn't make sense. He loves it, but it doesn't make sense.

His hands mechanically meet her hips, because he can't quite place why this seems wrong to him, but at the same time, he can never get enough of her, always needs more of her.

"Korra—" She cuts him off with a kiss, pulling back only when she's satisfied she's kissed him into a silent stupor, eyes searching his own before trailing over his face.

"Don't say anything, Mako. Don't ruin this." She whispers against his skin, the breath of her words simultaneously sending chills down his body and causing his chest to painfully ache like she's just punched him in the gut (because he ruined…something, right?) She rolls her body against his, the slow grind of her against him forces a quiet moan out of him. "We need to be quiet or everyone will hear us, alright? Can you be quiet for me, Mako?"

He nods his head, shaking away the tendrils of whatever is making him feel strangely uncomfortable with this whole encounter, and suddenly it's like he never felt unsettled in the first place, a rush of exhilarating wanting spreading through every inch of him instead.

She sits back as she unbuttons his shirt, working her lower body in slow, circular movements against him. By the time she's done, he's already half-hard under her hips. He frees his arms from his shirt before he slides his hands under the thin material of her own, palms dragging over warm skin, until he reaches her breasts, cupping her, flicking her taught nipples with his thumbs. She pulls the shirt overhead and lets her head tilt back, the cool blue light emphasizing the dip of her collarbone, the shadows falling on her naked torso.

She's beyond beautiful.

He drinks in the sight of her, her hair trailing over her shoulders, her lips falling open just slightly when he sits up and places his warm mouth over her breast, languidly moving his tongue over her in a way he knows makes her hypersensitive to his touch. She moans, loudly, and he releases her skin, pulling her head down to meet his, kissing her with an intensity he doesn't even fully expect, but they need to be quiet, they can't get caught, he can't ruin this with words, be quiet. When they break apart, their chests pressing together as they pant in unison, her hands fumble with the button and zipper on his pants, and he gently eases her hands away to do it himself. He slides the remaining restrictive items of clothing down his legs while she falls back and pulls off her (his) red striped boxers.

She settles back over him and he moves to grasp her hips, to guide her onto his almost painfully hard erection, but she shakes her head, takes his hand, and slides it to her core. His gaze never leaves her eyes when he rubs cautiously against her, slicking his fingers with her arousal, before he slips two fingers into her, and she's so warm and so fucking wet around him, and for a split second, he forgets that he needs to be quiet.

"Fuck, Korra…" He moans her name loudly, but she presses her hand against his mouth, heavy lidded eyes peering down at him, shaking her head at him again.

"Quiet, Mako." He nods under her hand, he can't risk waking up Bolin or Asami or whoever might be sharing a wall with him. He can't remember specifically who it is, but he knows that he needs to be quiet. She takes his silent nod as a promise and tugs at his hand once more, indicating that she wants something else filling her, something he's more than happy to give.

She strokes up and down the length of him once, before he pushes up with his hips at the same moment she lowers herself down onto him, and he's trying desperately not to say her name again. He can't risk having her stop, not when he needs this, needs her so damn badly. He watches her intently, the way her shaking, gasping breaths ripple through the rest of her, the way her back arches and her breasts shift with each movement, each slow, hard thrust of his dick into her warmth. It's happening too quickly, despite their languid pace, and he can't help it. He says her name again.

"Korra, shit, Korra…"

She doesn't stop this time, just keeps meeting his thrusts with her own movements, and he knows she's so close; he just needs to get her there first so he can follow. She reaches down, glides her fingers against herself, and he's always loved watching her do this, and his thrusts falter out of time he's so fixated on the way she brings herself closer to climax, and her name is spilling from his lips over and over and over again, and her eyes flick open with her orgasm and it's so damn amazing and he's about to—-

"Mako? Are you alright?" Her head peeks into his room, only her silhouette visible with the light from the hallway behind her. "I heard you say—"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine, just a, it was just a really intense dream—nightmare—I mean. I had a nightmare." He prays she doesn't notice how much he's sweating or how hard he's breathing or the tent jutting up from his pants that still hasn't disappeared despite the uncomfortable mess in his boxers, but he hates lying to her. "Sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't. I was up. But if you're…feeling really sick or something, you can come get me. Right next door, after all…" She's silent as she hovers outside, like she's unwilling to come any closer, only doing her duty as a friend by checking on him when distressed sounds are coming from the room next to hers. "Night, Mako."

She pulls the door shut before he can reply.

He groans and stands, cleans himself up, and returns to his bed. He stares at his metal ceiling, feeling more exhausted and more miserable than before.

He can still hear her voice, echoing in his head: We need to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me, Mako?

Apparently, he can't.