These were originally a bunch of individual 100 to 200 word prompt responses posted on my tumblr (elementalavatars) that I decided to combine into one "fic" I tried to put them in some sort of order, so it's basically an iteration of their time spent mooning over each other.
He burns like his element, a flame driving him, a spark of strength flickering in his eyes, burning quietly like the stars overhead. She rushes with the power of a tidal wave; she pushes and pulls like the moon leading the tide. Her disposition like the sea itself, one minute cool and calm, the next turbulent. Water and fire, blue and gold, the cool moon and the burning stars, a perfect set of opposites, complimentary contrasts.
...
It's amazing what he can read in her eyes. I love you, when he pulls her into his arms, when she wakes up next to him in the morning. I want you, when she claws at his uniform, when she pushes him onto the bed. I hate you, when they fight, when she's wrong. Even without the actions of her lips, her hands, he'd know from her eyes.
He thought that would never change, that he'd always be able to translate her, but after months apart, it's crushing when he realizes he no longer can.
...
This is hell.
Flat on his stomach, he tries not to move from his position on the bed. He'd fallen asleep on the beach, enjoying the Ember Island weather, and was now burnt the same color pink as a polar bear-dog's tongue.
Korra slides her hands down his back, cooling aloe seeping into his skin, as she laughs at his agony, her merely friendly hands gentle against his tender skin, moving lower and lower…
Oh no. He's—this is—he should not be responding that way right now.
This really is hell.
...
Mako nearly drops his glass of champagne when she walks into the gala, wearing that dress.
The dress he'd run his hands over, the one he watched slide down her every curve, the sash from her waist tightly twisted between her fingers before tying him to the posts of his bed, teasing him, touching him, and—
Korra winks at him from across the room, and he chokes on his drink.
Damn that dress.
...
The temple is a mess; the fight against angry spirits had escalated quicker than either had expected. Torn screens scatter the floor, the ceiling nonexistent, and water from somewhere spouts all over the remains of the last "standing" wall.
But he doesn't care. They're together. Finally.
Mako's covered in dust and dirt and grime and so is she, but he swears she's never looked more beautiful when he surges forward and presses his mouth to hers.
...
He kisses her whenever and wherever he can. He kisses her nose in the morning when she's groggy and grumpy. He kisses her neck when he pulls her to him in the middle of the night. He kisses her lips, warm and soft, when he gets home from work and wants nothing more than her. He almost lost her and he never forgets that. But when she asks why he kisses her in odd places, at odd times, his response is always "just because."
...
"What do you think?" Korra saunters over to where Mako lies on the bed, down to only his boxers, desperate for her attention. He takes in the vision of her before him, the red fabric cinched in tight around her waist, her breasts practically begging for his attention. He loves it.
She pounces…
And he spends the next twenty minutes trying to undo the corset, fumbling as she laughs, moment gone, but quickly reclaimed when his lips find her freed skin.
...
"Try to pick a vision of what you want in your future to help center you. Have you found it?" Jinora's soft voice echoes in his ears. He doesn't like meditating, but he'd been duped into trying it by the avatar and young airbender.
He thinks of a house, tucked away from the city; he thinks of a family, his job, but those all drift away, his thoughts and wants orbiting around her, a life with Korra. The house's location or the size of his family doesn't matter: as long as he's with her, anything will make him happy.
"I found her."