Mako stares at a metal sconce on the wall and tries to think about nothing, especially not why he is here. The hall is quiet and deserted, and he feels temporarily suspended in time, caught in the liminal space between whatever's past and whatever's coming next. He's been feeling like that a lot lately.
He makes a decision.
His knuckles barely touch the door when it flies open. "I thought you'd be here earlier," she whispers, ushering him rapidly inside.
"I was here earlier. You weren't."
"Oh," she replies, her blue eyes darting toward a corner of the spare, elegant room.
He realizes that in winning that little contest over punctuality, he has perhaps revealed just how hard up he is. Maybe he shouldn't have come back-
"I took Opal to try to get Lin out of her funk," she says, chewing on her lip and still refusing to meet his eyes. "It did not go well."
"Korra," he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face and seeing the probable sequence of events unfolding in his mind.
"She's impossible," she spits, and he can see the mixture of rage and guilt flickering behind her gaze.
"Look, it's none of our business…"
"I don't see it that way. Someone has to try to get through to her."
"And what makes you think that should be you?"
She stares daggers back at him and forms her mouth into a pout. "Hey, Rule Number Two," she says after a long pause. "No fighting when we're, you know, here to…"
"Yeah, yeah," he responds, running a hand through his hair, willing to give up on the whole principle because he needs this more than he's willing to admit out loud. "Sorry." He isn't sure he means it.
"Me too," and she reaches out to undo the buttons on his jacket. And he shrugs it off and removes his shirt without even unbuttoning it first. She lets her hair loose and runs both hands through it before pulling her top over her head with a motion that excites him almost instantly. When they are down to their underwear, he reaches forward to take her by her bare waist, bringing her close so that their chests are touching and his face is hovering just over hers.
His eyes fall to her mouth, but he skips it—because that's Rule Number Three—and latches onto her neck. Her head falls back and hands come to rest on his shoulders, and he smells the salt that clings to her skin and tastes it with his tongue.
"I just wanted to help," she says, and he's annoyed that she won't let it go. "You'd think her niece…"
Mako bites her ear just hard enough to hurt, and she gasps. "Korra, if you don't want me to break Rule Number Two again, then you're going to have to stop talking about this until tomorrow morning." He presses his lips softly against the place where he bit her, hoping against hope that she won't throw him out. Her muscles are tense all over, and he tries to soothe them by heating his hands and running them over her back in slow circles.
"Right. Sorry," she says. It sounds half-hearted, but her shoulders relax finally, and her nails run down his arms, leaving bumps in their wake.
Once it became clear that this was a thing they were going to need to get out of their systems, they felt the need to have guidelines to keep it all under control somehow. They got together twice on the airship. The first time was the night of their escape from Ba Sing Se, and he'd felt unresolved and anxious about the risks she kept taking—these guys sound like bad news, I think you ought to take this seriously—and to the surprise of them both, they wound up fucking feverishly against the metal wall. His body doesn't know yet how not to be in love with her.
No talking about that, though. That's Rule Number One.
Without kissing, there isn't a lot of buildup. His hands track down her hips and trace the shape of her through her underwear before pushing the fabric aside. He listens to her breathing pick up as he touches her. She's not as wet as he would like.
It's clear that she is distracted, but she tries to cover it, surreptitiously pushing down his boxers. And he lets her, his cock semi-hard as it meets the cool air of the room. She takes it in her hand and strokes it as he continues his attempt to fully arouse her with his fingers. He wants her to be as desperate for this as he feels.
Frustrated, he reaches up and frees her breasts. And then she is forced to let go of him and wrap her legs around his waist as he lifts her up and takes a nipple in his mouth, working it over with his tongue and teeth until she pulls at his hair hard enough to make him grunt. He feels her body falling backward, and so he collapses onto the bed with her under him, and it's so soft that it hardly makes a noise. His hands touch silk as he pushes himself up and starts to move down her body.
She moans as he continues to kiss down her abdomen, kneeling down on the floor in front of her with his knees cushioned by the deep pile carpet. He sees her smile when he pulls her underwear down with his teeth, hands palming roughly over her thighs, nails digging in just enough to leave white tracks on her flushed skin. There's no rule against this, and she doesn't object when his nose comes back up to tease her clit before he sinks his tongue into her. She cries out softly, and it makes his cock jerk to attention.
She's all heat and softness down there, and he feels her thighs wrap around his head as she gets into it. He grips one leg forcefully and pushes her open to him. Her back arches when he slides his fingers in and can feel, finally, that she wants him. Her physical responses are a language he knows how to read, and he can feel the storm building in her body in the way her stomach tenses when he lets a hand run along it or the glassy look in her eyes when he catches them.
"I'm ready," she says. "You can sto-ooop," her words come out with a shudder because he is moving his fingers deeper inside her while his tongue draws shapes around her. He wants her to come first. He wants her to come so hard it hurts.
She does, and she draws her knees forward, a hand in his hair, toes on his shoulders, almost trying to push him away. Her mouth is open, trying not to scream, and he watches.
And out of the haze of pleasure, she starts to say something to the effect of, "Shit. I bet Lin Bei Fong never-"
And faster than she can finish the wayward thought, he crawls up on the bed, barely wiping off his face before covering her mouth with his. She squeals quietly and tenses but doesn't push him away. He anchors her with his entire body pressed between her legs and shoves his tongue past her lips, kissing her so hard he thinks he can taste blood.
When he pulls back a little, she's speechless. "If you're going to keep talking about Lin Bei Fong while I'm fucking you, I'm going to start breaking more rules," he says, his forehead pressed against hers, his cock hard as stone and sandwiched between them.
She just nods, and she accepts it almost greedily when he dives back down to kiss her again. His tongue moves desperately against hers because he wants her to taste herself, to be reminded.
Her lower body rocks against him a little bit, and when her hips roll up, he feels himself slip inside her just an inch. He breaks the kiss, and they look at each other, desperate and unsure, on the edge of something dangerous. Too many rules get broken, and then…
He pulls out, and the loss of her almost hurts. He hears her sit up to look at him as he finds the condom in his discarded pants, and he reads the hint of sadness in her eyes as he prepares himself. This is hard, it says. This isn't how it used to be.
He smiles, hoping it's reassuring. "Flip over," he says, and he sees her look turn smoldering. She bites her lip and complies. And as he sees her go on her knees on the bed and her bottom go up as she piles pillows up to pad her front, he feels his cock start throbbing again. Yes, this takes care of Rule Number Three.
He joins her on the bed and runs his hands up and down her back again, soothing whatever lingering tension there might be. She pushes back when he nudges against her, and he slides inside easily, hands gripping her hips so that his thumbs fit perfectly in the dimples at the base of her spine.
He admires the view he as from there, the striations of her back muscles thrown into sharp relief by the moonlight washing in from the window, the movement of her shoulder blades as she adjusts to get more comfortable. Her dark hair spills down one side of her neck, and he sees her hand clutch at it as his thrusts pick up speed and their breathing comes out in gusts. Her legs part slightly further, and he falls into her again and again. It's all frantic and ragged, almost involuntary. A bead of sweat starts to track down his face. He feels himself starting to come apart, and he knows he isn't going to last much longer.
So does she, but he knows she's further behind him. "It's ok," she says, looking back at him. "I got mine already, you can finish." But she is breathing just as hard as he is, and he wants to feel her come with her inside him this time. So he pulls out almost all the way and moves a hand down to touch her. She goes down on her elbows, clutching at a pillow as she stifles a loud moan. He moves inside her slowly, shallowly until he feels like he can stand it. And then he slams his hips forward a few times, almost out of control, and her moaning changes pitch as her climax takes over.
It's just enough, and he follows her, sinking down as it subsides and resting his head between her shoulder blades. He is shaking and sweat-covered, but so is she. He licks it off her back and then pushes her hair aside to kiss her neck.
"Man," she whispers. "I don't think I've ever felt you let go like that, not even when…"
She cuts herself off this time. Rule Number One.
Following her lead, they roll to one side, and he brings her flush against him, head buried in the crook of her neck one more time, hands clutching her tight because he knows it can only last a minute. He can't stay. Rule Number Four.
His flesh sticks to hers uncomfortably as he pulls away and gets himself in order. She remains sprawled on the mattress, half on her stomach with one arm cushioning her head. With the other hand, she pulls a blanket up over herself, and he regrets the sight of her body retreating underneath it.
It feels so strange to leave her like this. He wants to walk back over and break Three and Four. He has words in his throat that will break One and possibly also Two. But the rules exist for a reason. So he skirts the line and ventures just close enough to clasp her hand.
"Thanks," she says, smiling sleepily, and he smiles back. The harder boundary between them comes back into place, and he knows he won't see her like this again until she asks for it. He wonders if she will ask, and he wonders if he'll say yes.
