Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 3,050
Author's Notes: 6/14/13. I have been waiting for this particular chapter for a long... long time.
Musical Inspiration: "Fuck U Betta" by Neon Hitch and "Oh my!" by Haley Reinhart.
Gifted To: oroioro
That one night
someone said the wrong name during sex.
"Holy—fuck," she coughed out, as Mako collapsed down onto her chest. It wasn't the impact she felt—oh, no; she could barely sense his weight—but rather the entire world spinning around her. She grasped at the sheets below her to steady herself, at the skin of Mako's back, his hair, everything, but still, her world spun.
His breath was hot and heavy against her ear, and his swallow was hard and dry, rasping with haggard breaths in the space near her throat. She was sore, sticky with sweat and sex and still full with Mako, and she couldn't stop making this sound to save her fucking life, and Tahno was in the other room doing who knew what with her roommate and, best of all—
She didn't give a damn.
"Motherfucker," he rasped, panting out what must have been the rest of his energy. He looked just as sated and sleepy and high as she felt. Suddenly, she laughed.
"Makofucker," she corrected. Irrationally, they both broke out into a fit of hysterical giggles.
Which was cut short, not more than two moments later, by an unexpected noise.
Korra and Mako paused, sobering quickly. In times of confusion, it wasn't unusual for Korra to tease him about his inquisitive brow—because to ignore such a prominent feature would be a dishonor to his face—but now wasn't one of those times. As if sensing this, Mako's eyebrows actually furrowed deeper. (As if such a thing were possible, Korra noted.)
"Did you hear something?" he asked quietly, suddenly on high alert. He probably didn't realize it, but his hold on her instinctively tightened. Torn between feeling protected and annoyed, Korra tried to ignore him entirely and instead focused on channeling all of her energy into listening to what she'd also just heard beyond her bedroom door.
It didn't take long for realization to hit.
"Is—is that—?"
"Asami," Korra hissed. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Her fist pounded into the mattress. Mako instinctively jerked to the side, out of the crossfire. "They're totally getting it on over there!"
"Um," Mako hesitated, sending a dirty glance back toward the door. "Isn't that what they came here to do?"
She glared. "Not helping," she muttered. "And who knows how long they've been here for! They could have been here for hours for all we know! There's no telling what kind of stuff they've already been up to—and now they're at it again!"
"Maybe Asami doesn't realize that we can hear?" Mako suggested, treading lightly.
Deep breaths, Korra... Think... "No," Korra said slowly, as the pieces began clicking into place. "No, Asami would know. This isn't the first time she and I have had a roommate discussion about wall thickness, you know." She was contemplative, like she was already preparing a plan, but Mako didn't seem to know where to start.
"So... what does that mean for us?"
"It means that she knows we can hear her just fine," Korra announced impatiently, decisively, feeling her lips thin into a grimline.
"So," Mako scoffed. She continued to glare at the ceiling, and he looked at her, flummoxed. "They're purposefully showing off?" He scoffed again, with an angry, disgusted twist.
"He," she corrected, though truthfully, she couldn't be sure. "There's a reason why Asami and I have been roommates for so long—we're both very compatible, and we both try our best to respect the other's wishes." And then, more darkly: "My bet is that he is the bad influence."
Mako's nostrils instantly flared. But an idea must have occurred to him immediately thereafter, for he paused, brows thick with consideration, and asked, "So... do you think they could hear us, too? Like you thought?"
There was a long pause. "Yes," Korra tightly confirmed, feeling the tiniest bubble of resentmentbegin to take form in her gut.
"Then it's retaliation!" Mako accused.
Korra frowned. She scoffed.
She paused.
"No," she dismissed, suddenly feeling queasy. "Nah, It's probably just—"
"No, no, wait—listen," Mako insisted, growing more and more irritated with each passing moment. "Let me get this straight. Your creepy boss—"
"Supervisor."
"—gave your roommate the impression that they were going to his place, then wound up here without so much as a heads up, and instead of being a respectable bunch of adults and leaving to go do their shit elsewhere—like the place they originally said they'd be at—they are now here, in your apartment, not only overhearing us, but also shoving their business in our faces?" His eyebrows were practically into his hairline. "C'mon."
For just a moment, her jumbling thoughts got so twisted up—they actually went blank.
What the—!
"Motherfuckers," Korra whispered, almost awed.
"Korra," Mako said urgently, shifting closer down, peering at her blank stare toward the ceiling. With a start, Korra realized she'd forgotten that they were still connected. "You get what this is, don't you?"
But she was only barely listening. A cold sensation had taken hold of her chest, icy and sharp and slow-crawling beneath her ribs, and gripped it tight within its grasp. She found that it was hard to think about much of anything. That it was suddenly hard to swallow.
"This is practically a challenge," Mako was prattling on, growing more and more offended with each passing realization. "That asshole boss is tormenting you, just like usual! He probably talked Asami into it, just so he could..." Slowly, Mako trailed off. "Hey," he said gently. When she didn't offer up much of a response, he tried again. "Korra?"
Reluctantly, Korra tilted her head in his direction, though she still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Yeah?" she whispered.
He opened his mouth to say something, then gently closed it, cleared his throat, and started again. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked her quietly.
Surprised, Korra carefully turned her gaze fully toward his. "What?" she asked.
His expression had softened and his voice was low. "You don't have to put up with this, you know," he told her. "We could just go back to my apartment and hang out. Maybe even chill with Bolin, grab some late dinner... You know?"
Inexplicably, Korra was touched by his offer. She had to admit that it did sound appealing; spending a drama-free night in the company of friends, relaxing over the weekend with a beer and some video games... and maybe even sneaking into Mako's room to sleep after Bolin had turned in for the night. And it would certainly send a message to Asami, she thought, a tad disappointed in her roommate. It's not often that I'm the one setting the example for model behavior. Asami and Tahno could have the apartment all to themselves, just like they so desperately wanted, and then she'd be free from their not-so-covert displays of affection. For now, at least. Given her options, it sounded too good to resist. She desperately wanted to say yes.
But then her own words came back to haunt her. I'm not going to get bullied out of my own apartment by the likes of you, she remembered.
Determination stiffened her shoulders. When she looked at Mako again—so concerned, so willing to drop his thirst for revenge to meet her needs—she smiled gratefully, and shook her head in a firm, final no.
"Are you sure?" he checked, almost looking a little disappointed himself.
"Yes... I'm sure. But it does sound nice," she admitted with a playful smirk, then deviously pinched his cheek. His scowl gave the gesture a look that was pure comedic relief to Korra's mangled insides, but there was still a spark in his eyes, and the hungry look he gave her kept her from laughing outright. Impulsively, she kissed him.
"So, now what?" he asked breathlessly, once they'd broken away. "I doubt there's going to be any sleep anytime soon, what with that racket going on."
But sleep was the furthest thing from Korra's mind.
After all... Asami had always been—and would continue to be—the role model.
"Um. What?" Mako blinked, just a few minutes later.
"C'mon, we have to do something!" Korra begged, eyes fierce, expression set. "We can't just let them win!"
Mako looked horrified at the idea. "I know that!" he snapped. "I just don't understand... how—" A very pointed look below. "—you think that's going to be possible."
Impatience blinded her for a moment, but soon she was forced to recognize his point. "Dammit," she cursed.
"Well—I mean," Mako said hastily, noticing the frustration and disappointment on her face. "As flattered as I am by your faith in me... I just don't think that's humanly possible at this point."
"Ugh. Tell me about it," Korra groaned. She was pouting at the ceiling again, so she couldn't see any visible traces of Mako's rising panic. However, she quickly followed with: "I don't even think I have any more orgasms in me. There's something called a limit, Mako—and I've hit it. Hey!" She swatted him, forcing a frown she didn't actually feel. "Try not to look so relieved about it, all right?" He laughed at her and, for some stupid reason, Korra started to feel just the tiniest bit better. "So, now what?" she demanded, trying not to show just how relieved she suddenly felt. Stupid Mako and his stupid face.
Mako bit his lip... and soon Korra was biting her own.
"I have an idea," he said.
Precisely four minutes, twenty-two seconds, and thirty-nine feet (and five-and-a-half inches) away, Tahno stilled.
"Is that... is that the shower running?"
Mako's head hit the tile with a satisfying crack.
She was on him in moments, scraping her fingers along slick flesh and through thick, tangled hair. Hair that I tangled, she thought possessively, twisting her fingers even deeper into his scalp. The water was hot, but his mouth was hotter, and it was everywhere—her neck, her face, her breasts, her jaw—everywhere, all at once.
"Admit it," he breathed into her ear. "This idea was one of my finest."
When Mako's fingers dug harder into her waist, she jerked against him, encouraging him to grip her more tightly, to grab more boldly, and when he growled into her mouth and slammed her into the wall, she actually felt weak in the knees. He pinned her to the cold tiles, keeping her upright while her strength fought its way back into her limbs, and kissed burning trails down her shoulder, soothing the scalded flesh with more fire, more heat.
"It wasn't bad," she replied, breathing hard, sucking in water through short, shallow gasps. She smirked through the barrage of water streaming down into her face, trying to lighten things up again. She was tired, but she was getting too caught up, letting things get too heavy, and—in doing so—forgetting their foolproof plan; as long as it sounded good, it was good.
"But?" he prompted, smirking back. His hair was dripping into his face and, despite everything—their compromising positions, the heat swelling impossibly in her belly, the cool touch of reality pressing against her back in the form of her apartment's bathroom tiles—she couldn't deny that he looked unbearably cute. She smiled a quirky smile back.
"It's probably not going to do us much good in the end," she said, a tad ambiguously. He raised an inquisitive brow. "I mean, even if this group project has turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be—"
"All right, all right," he nodded quickly, playfully nipping at her ear in reproach. Korra didn't hold back the long peal of laughter that burst from her lungs, and even coiled her arms around his neck for good measure. In one fluid motion, she'd been lifted off her feet entirely, and was suspended against the wall by nothing other than Mako's hips, hi—well-defined!—abs, and his strong arms. A slow smile spread across Mako's lips as Korra ducked her head down into the crook of his neck. "For what it's worth, I think we've earned plenty enough credit for participation. That counts for something, right?" When no answer was forthcoming, Mako pressed her more tightly against the wall, casually allowing one finger to simply slip. "Right?" he demanded, as she cried out with laughter. "Right?"
"Yes! Yes!" she managed through breathy gasps, slapping away his nimble fingers. "Fine! Right!" she acquiesced, in a far more hushed voice, trying to keep the game. "A+ for Mako, yes, indeed," she whispered, clutching onto his neck.
"Not an F for Fuck?"
"Oh my god, Mako," she continued to laugh, nearing tears. This isn't even that funny! But to Korra, it was; her ribs were practically screaming for him to stop, just so she could take a normal breath again. "Please!" she begged, trying to calm herself. Her fingers were still latched onto his, just in case. "This analogy has gone on long enough. Now it's just getting cheesy."
He kissed her lips, on and on and on, even when her kisses fell to even greater bubbles of laughter and ended up not being much of kisses at all. "Are you sure?" he asked, kissing her cheek, her nose, her eyebrow. "Are you positive?"
No. Yes. "Maybe," she relented, kissing back. She sprinkled his whole face with pecks. "Unless you have any other suggestions?"
She felt her feet fall firmly onto the floor of the tub, and clutched onto the hands that steadied her as he slowly lowered himself down to his knees. He looked up at her, meaningfully, and smirked.
"How do you feel about extra credit?"
Needless to say, Korra soon found herself very much a fan.
"Fuck," Mako hissed sometime later, eyeing the bedroom door resentfully. "He's still going?"
Release came hard and staggering, leaving a swaying Tahno clutching the headboard between his numbing fingers.
When he finally opened his eyes, panting hard, his eyes fell to the woman writhing beneath him; her fingers were tangled in her hair, even as her head tossed about the pillow, as her body tensed and twisted, as she rode out the final waves of ecstasy. His body was heavy, uncomfortably weighing down the tension in his arms as they gripped tight to the wood. His shoulders were stiff and rigid whereas his spine had curved, caving into exhaustion, as his mind was flooded with chemicals and fog.
At length, Tahno reached his head down to the elegant neck bared below and pressed a kiss, deep and firm, to the underside of her jaw. A small sound escaped her then, and as his lips drew a path along the smooth expanse of skin over her exposed skin, the noises didn't stop. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in, clenching his knuckles tighter over the wooden frame of the board. He wouldn't let go.
When his nose edged down into the hollow of her clavicle, she moaned soft and low, filling his hazy brain with, "Tahno."
Only half-realizing it, he smirked. It's not a scream, he thought. But it'll do.
Her legs were still wrapped around him, and her fingers drifted loose and listless out of her hair. His mouth traveled lower, to the point just above her sternum, where he paused, where he felt the soft scratch of fabric brush against his nose. She was still wearing his shirt.
A great long breath pushed past his lips, leaving his body with a force that nearly made him lose his grip on the headboard. Slowly, unsteadily, he flexed his fingers into the wall, easing some relief into the tiny joints and carefully pulling them away. He didn't lower himself down to her immediately, instead preferring to admire the view from above, and slid them into the spaces at her sides, where he could have the range of motion needed to roam her body freely.
For some reason, however, as Tahno slowly descended from his high, he found himself more and more drawn to the presence of his shirt. It'd been an impulse, really, to leave it on, and the effect it'd had on him had been... considerable. Inexplicably, so. Tahno dragged his fingers down the soft sheets and trailed them up and over her hips, then silently slipped them underneath the dark fabric. Dusting his fingertips along the hard ridges of her hipbones, over the delicate curves of her ribs, Tahno buried his face in the material covering her stomach, vaguely wondering at his actions. To be sure, it wasn't the first time a woman had dressed herself in his shirt, but never had Tahno been affected so... fully. A slightly more alert part of his brain recalled that he'd never much cared for whether or not a woman had taken over his dirty laundry, and couldn't see any good reason as to why all of a sudden it should be any different now. Slowly, Tahno rose up just a fraction, taking in the sight of her; the soft curve of a breast beneath the open collar, the small slips of skin dotted beneath the line of a few unmade buttons, black fabric falling upon a small waist... He liked seeing her wearing his shirt; yes, that much was certain. It filled him with some indescribable emotion, one that in all of his years of exploits, he had never encountered. There was a sense of pride there that was unfamiliar to him, one that spoke of deeply rooted instincts and primal urges and a sense of victory that felt sweet—
—and incomplete.
(Because for all the black he saw before his eyes, all his mind could see was red.)
His teeth ground together. His fingers tightened over flesh, thumbs digging into the jut of bone at her hips. An exhale flew past his teeth in a huff that left him lightheaded, and his throat dry with desert sand. Now, no matter which way he looked, no matter the angle, the black beneath his fingers bled into red, and the skin hidden beneath darkened and tanned, shifting from a creamy pale to a rich brown. Back and forth the colors blended, shifting in his mind until they all but merged together. His breathing grew heavier and his eyes grew darker as his desire redoubled—exhaustion be damned—as he drank in the sight of harsh black fabric stretched across the shadows of warm brown—
"Korra."
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He froze.
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