Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Makorra

Warning: A borderline T/M rating. Read at own risk.

Sometimes, at certain times (like now), Korra wondered if bending a specific element affected the way its wielder had...well...sex. If, somehow, a bender embodied their element during the act itself. It was a semi-fleeting thought, one that usually wove its way into her musings at night and receded when she was finally tired or if she felt like she was an hour or two away from seeing sunrise and just fed up with thinking.

However, no matter how fleeting it was, it came enough times for her to believe that if there was a theory written down somehow, it was the following:

Airbenders, in the past, were verbal. They let their lovers know how they felt and slowly built up to that moment;

Earthbenders were sturdy yet flexible, perfect for the more creative positions or simply keeping their lovers' feet from touching the ground;

Firebenders were warm, plain and simple, their ability to control their body temperature perfect for cold winter nights or, she figured, wonderfully intense in the summer—just barely bearable but not so overwhelming that...things couldn't happen;

and Waterbenders were, well, wet—whether it was from pools of sweat gathering or in...other ways.

Part of her was well aware that girls like her thought about...sex whenever they imagined, remembered, or retold their "first time", but she also knew that her particular train of thought always popped up soon after the act itself. Whenever she was awake and found herself staring at the pinpricks of streetlights outside of the Probending Arena that bled through the thin curtains in the attic, safe in bed.

Mako's bed.

With Mako.

She figured it was because even after a whole hour or two passed, she—and she could never admit this to anyone, least of all him—wanted him and his warmth all over again because Spirits, it felt good.

From the beginning to the middle to the end, he was amazing—all of him. It was like being with fire itself.

His body temperature getting stronger, but never so strong that it heated up the entire room; just himself, the sheets, and her.

His fingers entwined in her hair. His fingers teasing the tips, and traveling down her skin, and bringing himself closer, chest-to-chest, masculine hand to feminine shoulder, lips-to-lips.

The light, warm puffs of his breath on her collarbone and neck, tickling her. Her own heavy breathing in his ear. The harmless yet strongly-felt brand of his lips on her dark skin, over the parts of her she dared to show and share and give over to him and his touch. His warm touch all over. His mouth and its deep, throaty chuckle as he teased her, unknowingly reminding her of her theory about Waterbenders, and telling her that he liked what they were doing without ever really saying the words themselves.

The movement and pace of his muscles and lower body and his ability to make the best friction she had ever felt in her life. Steady and strong and fluid and complete and deep until her hands dug into his skin, his entire body growing slick with his sweat. Until the blanket inched down his back and he pressed his palms against the wall connecting his room to his little brother's to balance himself and make sure the bed springs didn't shake too loudly, and finally, that point when her eyes closed and there was stark, yet beautiful, whiteness and then fireworks of color.

Reds, oranges, yellows.

Her satisfaction.

His satisfaction.

His body, slowly cooling across hers.

She blinked to separate herself from those thoughts for the moment.

A particularly bold glow from an orange streetlight, the one from the meat-packing factory, fell across the bed, starting at the foot, ending on Korra's left, and climbing over Mako's body in between that distance.

In the relative darkness, her blue eyes roamed over his sleeping figure. Mako liked sleeping on his back, which was perfect because she liked sleeping on her side to face him. He was really beautiful—his milky-white skin, and even all the scratches and keloid skins that marred it; his lean yet muscular body; his mussed black locks; the curve of his eyebrow; and his eyelashes. His chest rose and fell smoothly; he breathed deeply, but never so much that he snored too loudly. Bolin almost literally slept like a rock in his room, outbursts of snores heard through the wall behind Mako's bed, never worried about being kicked out of a trashcan or abandoned building or cardboard box. But the older brother slept lightly and strangely, intimately, with her. His left arm and shoulder made up her pillow, which made it easier whenever she felt restless or content.

Her body wiggled a bit and her leg brushed against his. He stirred. "Korra...what's wrong?" His murmur was thick and husky with sleep. She realized that he was sleep-talking.

She squirmed some more and turned her head to stare at his jawline, his Adam's Apple, her lips accidentally brushing against the joint—not the best attempt in kissing his shoulder, or easing him out of sleep.

His eyelids fluttered and his brow furrowed, stubbornly intent on not opening again but automatically failing when her fingernails lightly pressed on his hipbone. She liked this moment when he was rousing himself out of sleep because he was already warm, his hand an imprint of his body heat as it slid up her side. "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep."

His eyes looked at her deeply and she avoided returning it with one of her own, her glance directed everywhere else. It tickled when his fingers brushed against her ribs. She returned the gesture with one of her own, her hand brushing against his stomach.

Mako was never one for long conversations in the early morning and she could respect the sentiment. He took to watching her instead. Once, after the maybe the third time when they had finally let all that awkwardness of the action itself and other things—Asami; the fact that after three times, this wasn't an "accident"; the aftermath of her final Avatar victory over Amon; Mako's belief that he hesitated because of selfless feelings for and loyalty to Bolin; that they were still teammates; that they weren't dating and doing this whole 'I like you' thing by the book—stop being such monumental things, he had admitted that he liked watching her when it was dark. To him, she didn't carry her Avatar title and image or her tough, brute strength into his bed; she was all feminine and beautiful and cool. The words, the first time he had said them, had been enough to make her feel warm all over again.

His arm slid from underneath her and suddenly her head was pressed against the pillows and he was hovering over her. Cool air hit her skin and she shivered slightly, but he was warming up the sheets already. His eyes, yellow-brown, were flared in the relative darkness. "Do you want to...?"

She smiled.

Yes, she was. Of course she was.

And so he started, his fingers and mouth blazing trails over her skin and growing from an ember to an spark to a roaring flame. And after a few moments, a few touches and kisses, she moaned. "You feel really warm, Korra." He chuckled and smirked.

Really warm...wait—warmer than usual? Like fire?

She blinked, her theory shattered for the moment.

But a few more touches here and there, there—there, and he was back to reminding her of her heritage.

A few fireworks behind her eyelids later, and the feel of his arms around her, she decided to address the concern before she finally fell asleep.

And then decided to let it go for now...There could always be exceptions to the theory.

Korra's Theory

Revised notes: Thanks with sticking with me and the newest version of this oneshot. I thought it made mention of the idea of Mako and fire just a bit more. And there were less run-on sentences and commas involved I think. Again, tried to keep it as PG as I could here, but I definitely created an M version so if you're allowed, or face no consequences, please feel free to read.

R&R. Constructive criticism welcome; flamers not of a Bender nature beware.