A distant island.
An open window.
A small room.
A shape on the bed, moving slowly.
Startling blue eyes open and a soft groan is heard. The girl stands up, bare feet padding softly on the hard stone floor. She exhales a puff of air, frustrated. The feeling has returned. She had thought that last night's rendezvous would have managed to stave it off for awhile. But it's back, clawing at her body and disturbing her sleep. She needs it, and she knows that she won't get a moment of peace until her desire has been fulfilled.
She turns to face the open window and glances behind her once before leaping out of the window. The girl hits the cold, dark sea with a small splash. She moves with ease into a graceful undulating movement not unlike that of a dolphin's. The coldness of the water doesn't permeate her bones, but rather she embraces it, not fighting with the currents. She moves with alarming speed, and soon reaches the base of a giant golden arena, now just a dull bronze with the clouds covering the moon, and no spotlights shining. She raises her arms and easily propels herself upwards and into the window of a tiny room that she knows is empty. She draws all of the water from her body, forming a ball and tossing it back into the sea. She is now completely dry. The girl takes a deep breath, stilling herself.
She moves with a skilled stealth in the dark, the faint rustling of cloth against skin the only telltale sign of her presence. She crouches, catlike, on top of the stairs, and in a single, fluid movement, leaps down the entire flight. She lands with a soft, barely audible thud on the ground, hardened and flexible feet softening the impact. She can feel it more now, a single, burning flame of uncontrollable desire. It's burning in her belly, and she can only subdue it the only way she knows how. She sweeps her fingers through the thin layer of dust covering the ground, noting that no one has wandered down this corridor of late.
Her intended destination is still a long way from the tiny room above the bending arena, and she can't be entirely sure that others aren't out on the prowl too. She draws droplets of moisture from the damp night air surrounding her and from the small trickle dripping from a crack in the ceiling. It's raining tonight, her kind of weather. She smiles, knowing that not much can stop her from achieving her goal tonight. The full moon slips out from behind a cloud, illuminating the hallway and she pauses to draw in the energy radiating off of the calming rays. Then she slips into the shadows, treading carefully with quick, precise movements. Then she reaches a fork road, and turns confidently into the right corridor. The need grows stronger, gnawing at her self-induced state of calm control. It's telling her to run, to forget about other people finding her, and succumb to her wants. But she breathes in deeply, telling herself to calm down, and that all these precautions would eventually pay off. She has a lot at stake, and she knows that if anyone were to find out about her late-night activities she would have to pay the price.
It's still about two passages away, but she's starting to feel excited now. Her pulse is racing, her heart pounding out an even, steady rhythm. She allows herself a tiny, smug smile as she crosses into the next threshold. There it stands, in all its white, shiny glory. The pure, strong safe that keeps all she her desire locked up and trapped. First, she heads over to the drawer and pulls it open slowly. There's a glint of metal as she lifts something from the drawer and carefully closes it back. She turns slowly, savoring the moment, and tiptoes over to the sacred white object. She pulls open the door and takes a whiff of the clean, sharp smell emanating from it. She reaches in, skin tingling and arms shaking in anticipation. There it is. Her arm closes around a smooth, glass covered object and pulls it out of the stronghold. She unscrews the lid and closes her eyes as she takes in the delicious sharp smell emanating from the handheld object. It reminds her of happy days spent running in fields far away, of days in the sunshine playing with tiny rocks and freezing them in midair. She almost cries in relief as she finally gets the freedom to do as she pleases.
She digs her small spoon into the jar of strawberry jam and shoves it into her mouth. She lets out a satisfied hum as the tart, sweet flavor reaches her taste buds. Cinnamon, sugar and light sweetness. Memories of berries eaten as fast as they were picked in the orchard during her visit to the Earth Kingdom warm her mind. The cold residue of the jam slips down her throat, cooling and soothing it as it goes down. She spoons up a second bite, pausing to sniff delicately at the spoon before guiding it to her mouth. She's almost to her fifth spoonful when the lights in the kitchen suddenly go on.
Mako's eyebrows furrow as he takes in the sight before him. Korra, the next Avatar, in her night clothes, her hair undone, standing in front of the fridge with a half-empty jar of strawberry jam and a spoon jammed in between her lips. It would be comical, except for the fact that she's standing in front of the fridge eating his jam. The strawberry jam that he buys and hoards so much of. The very precious preserves that he only allows himself to indulge in once in awhile. The jam that can only be found during strawberry season. Which is once a year. Before he can stop it, a low growl escapes from his mouth. Who does she think she is?
The blue-eyed waterbender, sensing the little time she has left with her precious jam, quickly shovels the rest of it into her mouth. She clutches the empty jar in one hand and the spoon in the other and watches his reaction wearily. Mako's entire face turns red, and steam literally comes out of his ears. Korra can gather that he's mad. Really mad. She decides to ignore the fact that his normally neat hair looks decidedly adorable when he's just rolled out of bed, or that he's only in a loose pair of white practice pants. Even as her eyes flit around, trying to figure out a suitable escape route, she knows that it's hopeless. His reflexes are far too advanced, even in his sleepy state. Instead, she inches backwards slowly, bracing herself for what would come next.
Mako just stands there, gaping. There's not even a lick of jam left back in the jar! The brand new bottle which was the only one he had managed to get before they all ran out! He can feel a peculiar sensation come over him, and then he realizes that he's furious, much angrier than he's ever been before. His hands just want to reach to her slim neck and wring it. He barely restrains himself, shaking with anger. He then realizes that he has a craving for it himself. He snorts. She's finished it all, so there's no chance of that happening. He's half-crazed now, fuelled by the anger at the loss of his sole indulgence. Then he notices that her cheeks are still filled with at least two mouthfuls of delicious sweet goodness. An idea starts to come over him, and then he shakes his head. What an absurd thought! He tries to console himself with the fact that he could always stock up again next year.
Korra watches him mutter to himself like a lunatic, then shake his head frantically. She holds her stance, cheeks still full of jam. Then she notices him inching forward towards her, and inwardly scoffs. Does he seriously think that he can beat her, the Avatar, in this state of undress? But instead of stopping where he is, he just comes closer. She notices a glint of something not quite sane in his eyes, and starts to get frightened when he suddenly grabs hold of her two wrists tightly, forcing her to drop her spoon.
The clang of the spoon reaching the ground temporarily brings him out of his daze. He tries to convince himself that he can wait another year, just another 365 more days. Then his gaze drops down to her lips. They're stained pink from the jam, with a little smear on the right side of her mouth. Now, this just isn't fair. Why shouldn't he get a taste too? He starts to weigh the facts in his head again. She notices him staring, and the tip of her pink tongue brushes out to lick the small smear of sauce away. That tiny action drives him crazy. His last conceivable thought is that a year is a very long time.
His hands suddenly transfer from her wrists to her waist, pulling her snug against him. She flushes an appetizing pink, which earns her a little smirk from the hot-blooded firebender. In one smooth, fluid movement, he dips her slowly, and presses his warm mouth against hers.
He gently slips his tongue into her mouth and grins with appreciation. The jam is still chilled, thanks to waterbenders' knack for controlling their body temperatures, and the taste is sweet and refreshing. She tastes right. This feels right. They stay glued like that for quite a while, till all of the jam has been savored and consumed.
He stands up and grins at her, finally noticing how cute she looks in her cloud-patterned pyjamas with an oversized sweater. She gets up, still thoroughly flushed, and walks slowly out of the kitchen. He smirks at the tantalizing sway of her hips, no doubt added in for his benefit.
They both consider their missions accomplished.