The world was slow and thick and filled to the brim, filled to bursting with darkness and stars. The stars winked and twirled through the black, bright little fires that burned above and shone down on the two of them. The dream was familiar.
Mako held her hands, held them tight, and they stood alone, suspended in the cosmos. He was warm, and his eyes were golden in the starlight. She couldn't help but smile at him; she was so glad he was here with her. Mako smiled back at her, tilting his head up, directing her gaze back to the stars. When Korra looked up again, it hurt. It hurt her eyes and it hurt her heart because the little fires started going out, and she watched the stars die and disappear, tiny screams reaching down to her for help. She looked back at Mako, but she couldn't see him anymore. She couldn't see anything anymore.
The stars had all died.
It was black.
He released her hands, and that familiar emptiness and pain in her stomach started clawing to get out again. She remembered with a start that the emptiness was called fear. The pain was guilt.
It made her feel like half a person.
"I can't see anything," she said to nobody.
"And why is that?"
"Mako, stop messing around. Give us some light."
"You know I can't," he said. She lit a fire between her palms, and stretched it out over the two of them. The shadows set in his eyes were cold. The golden tinge was missing. "It's your fault I can't bend."
The space cracked, the sound loud and painful and thunderous, and Mako fell, gasps of laughter trailing behind him. Korra's fire extinguished as she reached down, reached for him, reached for the apology that lingered on her tongue, but there was nothing there. So she reached harder and before she knew what was happening, she was tumbling down, tumbling through, tumbling alone in the black. She gripped herself because there was nothing else, and she screamed to the dark.
She fell quickly and she fell slowly.
The sky cracked again, and she heard the thunder this time, heard it breaking through her nightmare, and she was awake but not because she was still screaming, screaming into the dark.
"Korra?" She heard his voice next to her, even though she could not see him. No, she was awake. She was. She clapped a hand over her mouth, silencing herself, but her breath still fell out hot and scared between her fingers. "Korra?" he repeated, his voice strained and worried, but farther from her now. He must have been leaning over the side of the bed to turn the lamp on. She heard the flicking sound of a useless switch. "The power's out," he mumbled. His voice was closer now, calmer now. "Come here. It's fine."
She knew she should just firebend some light, but she couldn't, wouldn't, so she folded her legs up to her chest and closed her eyes, which changed nothing, really. She was surrounded by darkness either way. Mako was so far and so near and she tried to close herself up. She felt the bed shift as he scooted closer to her, and his hand drifted onto her leg first, right by her knee. He gave her a reassuring squeeze because yes, he was right there and yes, it was going to be okay.
Korra used to not be so, well, scared of the dark. She'd experienced pitch blackness back home a few times when there was a huge blizzard, with clouds so thick they ate the moon, the snow pouring down so heavily that nothing could be seen. She enjoyed it back then.
After her mother had extinguished the fire and tucked Korra into her bed, she'd sit up in her bed, amazed at how she could see nothing but black. She'd wave her hand in front of her face, wiggling her fingers right by her nose, and would laugh and laugh and laugh. Before her father could stop her, she'd scurry out from underneath her blankets and hide in different places, bumping her head and knocking her knees. Korra would make her parents guess where she was hiding, and they always guessed right, which just made her giggle more and made her that much easier to track through the darkness.
It used to be fun, free.
But then Amon came and invaded her life, invaded her thoughts, filled the mystery of darkness with fear, took (stole, ripped away) Mako's bending in front of her. That's when she began to fear it. That's when it started to press on her. Because she'd remember how she failed, how Amon came to her next, how he pressed on her spirit and how she closed her eyes and fell into darkness alone, only to have that inner light shine and break through and win the day.
It had been too late, though. Mako had become half of himself; he'd lost his fire. So she'd never forget. She'd never forgive herself.
When she closed her eyes, when she saw the black, pure and lonely, she remembered.
Her breathing was tight, and her heart pounded out a dull ache. "It was just a bad dream," she assured him, even though she knew it was not a dream, but a faded reality.
"What happened?" Mako asked, finding her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. He was there; hidden, but there.
"We were, well I dunno where, but we were under all these stars, and then you were falling, and I tried to catch you. I tried, but then I was falling too and I was alone and I couldn't find you and it was so scary. It was so dark and I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."
"Korra?"
"It was my fault. It was all my fault. I can't believe I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry."
His other hand drifted up, tapping the air lightly as he searched for her, reached for her face and he was there, warm fingers touching lightly on her cheek, unsure.
"Shhh... how many times do I have to tell you? It was not your fault."
Her hand rose up to meet him, and her fingers lay over his on her face. She tilted into his hand, and felt him, needed him. But it wasn't enough. She needed to forget that dream. Her hand trailed up his skin, running over the smooth muscles of his forearms, curving over his elbow. His upper arm was tense and so was his shoulder, and she reached for his face.
Her fingers trailed up to his ear first before tracking a path down his jawline and back up, pressing on his lips, their softness only encouraging her. Once she had it, once she knew where he was, where he really and truly was, she leaned forward, navigating the space blindly.
Her mouth pressed against his, hard and certain, because she was scared.
He mumbled against her. "Korra, not now."
"Please," she begged, because she had to know he was really there. She had to know that this wasn't another dream, that he wasn't going to fall away. So Korra kissed him a second time, her mouth opening up, sucking on his bottom lip, the tip of her tongue slowly sliding over the skin that she had tasted so many times but had to taste again and again. "I need you," she breathed, her words falling into his mouth, hot and ready. He swallowed them in one gulp.
When Mako finally kissed her back, his kiss was rough and wanting. He bit down on her lip, tugging it between his teeth until she sighed out her content, sighed because he was there and he was hers and she would not let him fall again. Their mouths moved together, fell together amidst the black. Korra could not say whether her eyes were open or closed.
So she sought him out, sought him in the darkness, and her lips trailed up his jawline to his ear, which she slid into her mouth. Her teeth grazed the skin lightly until it softened and she bit gently. She felt him turning his head into her in response, his lips wet now, and he pressed them against her throat. She exhaled. His mouth opened, and his tongue swirled on her skin, licking slowly and calmly, teasing her.
"Please," she begged again, and the breath that she realized she'd been holding fell from her lungs as he laid her down in their bed again, rolling on top of her.
His weight was familiar.
His lips covered hers once more, and his tongue slid inside her mouth, wanting and waiting. Hers glided out to meet his, and a shock rolled through her body when they touched, so natural and pure. He pressed into her, letting her support his weight, and she felt him, felt Mako, felt his soul. His taste wove into her mouth.
She could only feel, only hear, only taste and smell for she was blinded by the blackness.
Rain was pounding outside.
She inhaled him then, pressing her face into his shoulder. She sensed him, knew him, loved him, and that's why she could not let go of the anger that bubbled inside her. It was her fault, hers.
Her fingers reach up, combing through his hair until she latched on, tugging him closer. When she kissed him once more, she consumed his groan, low and steady. It made her shiver, and her body shook from her fingers to her toes to her groin. Her hips pushed up against him, and she felt his cock hardening beneath his underwear.
Her fingers found his waistband easily, and she slid both hands along his sides, hooking her thumbs around the worn material. She tugged down, and he shimmied, helping her remove them. When her hands moved back up, her fingers drifted over him, over his smooth tip, and he gasped.
He pushed her back down, and his hands slipped up to the old shirt of his that she had worn to sleep. His nails raked her sides, bumping over her ribcage as he lifted the shirt off her. She heard it being thrown to the floor, and his hands lingered on her face, fingertips softly pressing against her.
This was real. He was here. He was not falling from her this time.
She clung to him then, tasting him once more, her lips gentle and open. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulled him close to her because she would not let the darkness take him. She'd already let half of him go. It was her fault that his bending was gone, that the stars had screamed. Nothing would take the rest of him from her. She couldn't, she wouldn't. He was hers.
Leisurely, his touch slid down her cheek, his finger curving a path over her lips, down her neck, down her chest, down her abdomen, swirling around her stomach once before dipping again. He toyed with her waistband slowly, annoyingly, until she had to yank her own underwear off.
"Mako," she whined.
He laughed then, and it made her shiver; it made her cry.
His fingers walked down from her stomach once more, tickling her skin lightly until they encountered her patch of dark, coarse hair. He moved agilely then, cupping his hand down, his two fingers playful and teasing. One flicked over her clit, sending a shudder through her body, and then he was pressing down on her, seeking her where she wanted him and needed him. He was closer, closer, and he slipped one finger inside, stroking her, exploring her.
She cried out once more when his lips fell onto her chest, kissing the skin until it became soft, kissing until it became sensitive, and his tongue reached out, curling around her nipple as his finger curled inside her. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, licking slightly. Her cry turned into a moan, and he slipped his finger back out of her again. With both hands, he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, holding her there, still and steady.
His breath was hot and it washed over her, the anticipation clawing at her, the burning growing and the need there and so very present, just like him.
All she saw was black.
She felt his cock between her thighs, and she felt her own aching, so she spread her legs, hitching them around him, pulling him close. It was very slow. He entered her, filled her, completed her, and it killed her because it was all her fault. How could she do this when he wasn't... when he didn't...
"Mako, wait," she mumbled, legs still wrapped tightly around him.
"What?" he breathed, barely. "What's wrong?"
"I need to know."
"What?"
Her voice trembled as she blurted it out, blurted the fear that had been hiding in the black: "Do you ever feel like half of yourself? You know... now?"
The pause was long.
"...I don't know..."
It was not the answer she had been seeking, but it was the answer he was going to give. Still, he pressed his hips against her, pushing deeper inside. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she moved with him, against him, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as if this was the first and last time.
"I do know one thing though," he said as he thrusted once more. She bit his shoulder and moaned against him, the precipice nearing, the edges closing in on her. His voice was gentle and firm, so confident and strong, a ghost in her ear:
"I'm whole when I'm with you."
It was black, but they were one in the darkness. He held her close and she felt everything. She felt herself lightening, flying, so near.
Lightning lit up the room, and she saw him then, saw him through the black. Mako. He was hers and he was complete, in spite of all they'd been through, in spite of everything. As was she.
So when the darkness flooded in again, it was okay.
For they fell into the black now, together, whole.