There are times when Korra swears she sees a glint in his eyes that tells her he knows exactly what he's doing. That he's painfully aware of the effect he has on her and how much she hates him for exploiting the fact.
And how can he not be aware?
No one that attractive could be so completely ignorant of the effect they had on people. She's seen him during their public training sessions, the way the other bending girls stop as he walks by, letting their eyes linger on the sharp cut of his pelvis and the hard planes of his abdomen. He doesn't gloat, but the left corner of his mouth twitches just like it does whenever they win a match.
It makes her roll her eyes and gnash her teeth together until she catches him doing something else so completely and ridiculously attractive that she can't help but let out a pathetically breathy sigh and lean her chin on her hands. She doesn't like him – really, she doesn't. They're hardly even friends, barely able to be in the other's presence for more than a handful of hours, but that doesn't mean she can't admire the annoyingly perfect slope of his nose, the high cut of his cheekbones, and the pillow of his full lips.
The worst thing about him isn't even his temper or the way he has to take control of every situation. It's not the way he puts his hands on his hips and towers over her as he reprimands her for something that doesn't even warrant a reprimand in the first place, his eyebrows knitted together and a certain grit to his voice that sends a zing down her spine. It's not even the way he gets under her skin and irritates her so completely that she can't even think straight.
No, the worst thing about him is the way he pops a finger (or sometimes a knuckle) into his mouth after he's burnt it, his brow furrowing as he tries to sooth the searing burn with his tongue. It's the way the pink tip of his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick at the salt on his lips when they're bending together, his expression stern and serious.
The worst thing about him is the way his lips look so incredibly inviting when he bites into a mango, the juices running down his chin and clinging to his long, lean fingers. So he swipes at his chin with his knuckles and then proceeds to do absolutely obscene things with his tongue as he licks up the mess before it can stain his gloves. Those stupid fingerless gloves that are meant to conceal but somehow accentuate the strength in his hands, the movements of his fingers.
But perhaps the absolute worst part about Mako is when he glances over at her and catches her gawking at him, slack-jawed, even though she's supposed to be brushing out Naga's coat. The heat rises to her cheeks so swiftly, she feels as though she might pass out, but then he does this stupid thing with his mouth where he almost smiles, but doesn't, and she knows that if she wasn't clinging to Naga's collar for dear life, she would be a heap of limbs and overexcited hormones.
Before she can regain her composure, the glint sparks in his eyes and he's taking another sinful bite of the mango.
Asshole, she thinks, but she doesn't tear her gaze away from him.
He doesn't look away either.
A/N: Yet another drabble that has no point and no dialogue. I can't help it, I'm addicted to this ship! Anyway, I'm in the process of writing an actual Makorra one-shot (though at this rate it might be a two-shot) where they actually have a conversation! Eegads!
