Hello, everyone! I'm glad that people seem to be enjoying this fic—thanks for supporting it, and thanks for being an awesome audience! I know that every fandom has it's "shipping wars", and there's been a lot of that in the LOK fandom, but as a general rule I think that everyone's just pretty great and accepting and whatnot. Rock on, readers! Disclaimer: I don't own Legend of Korra or any associated characters (unfortunately).
Chapter Five
Korra wakes the next morning to muggy heat and low, dark clouds. She runs through firebending drills in the courtyard near the temple, follows this with an hour of earthbending. Midway through practice, Mako appears from the gloom of a nearby doorway, lifts one hand in greeting.
"Mako." Why does her stomach flip every time she sees him?
"Your form looks good." Mako leans against a poplar tree. "I think we're in good shape for the next match."
It's tomorrow, Korra realizes suddenly. The next match is tomorrow.
"Me too."
She swallows hard and tries to concentrate on bringing little pillars of earth up from the courtyard's hard dirt surface. The ground here is cold and unrelenting, as hard and threatening as the clouds overhead.
Korra feels...strange...ungrounded, as if the dark thunderheads might press themselves down onto the earth and swallow her whole. As if she might be consumed by the oncoming storm.
In moments like these, she wants nothing more than to hold someone, or be held. To wrap her arms around someone's shoulders, feel their bones and skin beneath her fingers and hands. Fall into rhythm with their breathing. Lay her head on their chest.
A vivid, vivid image of Tahno flashes before her eyes, dissipating like smoke as soon as it appears. Korra gives herself a violent mental shake—no, she and Tahno will never be like...that. Not lovey and romantic and sticky-sweet. Not like Mako and Asami.
Speak of the devil...
The Sato girl drifts like a water spirit from the gloom of the temple, her thin, pale face framed by locks of tumbling dark hair. Korra tries to force away the rising feeling of jealousy as Mako kisses Asami's cheek.
"Hello, Korra," Asami says brightly, leaning against Mako.
Korra wants to ask what are you two even doing here? but in the next moment Pema steps from the temple's doorway.
"Make yourselves comfortable, alright?"
She's addressing Mako and Asami. Korra fights the urge to roll her eyes.
"How's training going?" Asami steps towards Korra, her red lips curving into an easy smile. There is a fluid elegance to her movements that Korra will never quite be able to master. A sort of...grace.
"It's fine." Korra mutters through suddenly-tight lips. "It's going fine."
She does not want to stand here, beneath the dangerously dark sky, in the muggy heat, and listen to Asami's sweet voice and see Mako's eyes when he looked at Asami, the way that he looked at her—or was he looking at Korra like that?
Stop.
She needs to leave.
"Actually, I think I'll go meditate." She turns on her heels, fleeing before Asami and Mako can further question her.
It's a short walk to the rocky outcroppings above the bay, and within minutes Korra is poised above the flat water. She can feel the pull of the tides in her bones, in her blood.
She steels herself and then dives.
Once more, they are the victors.
Another match won, another team defeated. Screaming audience, mad whirl of color, heading out to Narook's with grins plastered across their faces.
The Noodlery is too crowded to sit—barely enough room to stand, everyone packed close together, talking loudly and eating bowls of noodles—and so the Fire Ferrets head out to another location.
A brightly lit bar, a favorite for pro-benders. The place is crowded; everyone calling out their congratulations. No losers here tonight, no sir, everyone's a winner when they walk in the door.
Korra drinks too much sake on an empty stomach, and next thing she knows she's kissing Bolin on the cheek, maybe a little too close to the mouth, grinning stupidly and accepting drinks bought by strangers. It's a real party in here, too stuffy, though, and when Korra glances over and sees Mako kissing Asami fervently, she stands up and pushes her way towards the exit.
The alleyway is cooler, the moon swaying bright overhead. Korra stumbles only a little. She sees him too late, leaning against the wall with his dark hair and twisted smile. He's staring upwards.
"Enjoying ourselves, aren't we, uh-vatar?"
"Tahno." She faces him, tries to glare.
"Hitting the sake bottle a little hard tonight, I see."
"Shut up."
He smirks, she glowers.
"It's getting late," Tahno says. "You have anyone to spend the night with?"
Korra's mind flickers to Mako and Asami, intertwined in a corner booth.
"None of your business."
"Is it?"
They stare each other down for a hot, tense moment, and then Korra closes the gap between them and kisses him.
Why?
She's drunk, of course. Has never consumed this much sake—have any of them? Mako, maybe, because he's older and most eighteen year-olds in Republic City drink sake on occasions like this. Bolin is too young, though. And Korra...she's always avoided alcohol, drinking only in celebration.
Tonight's a celebration.
Isn't it?
They stumble backwards, against the brick wall of a neighboring building, concealed in semi-darkness. Korra cannot really control her body, and she's surprised to find herself pressing against Tahno. She feels his hardness suddenly, against the juncture of her thighs, and it's enough to send a deep pang of longing into the pit of her stomach, and she wants him badly, so badly, but this is Tahno, this is the enemy.
Not quite Amon, not quite an Equalist...but close. Close.
She doesn't care. Korra winds her fingers through his hair, gives in to the feeling. Tongues and heat and then she slides her hand into his waistband and then lower...
Lower.
There. When she touches him, Tahno lets out a sudden moan, a sound deep in his throat.
"Fuck, yes..." Tahno grinds hard against her, thrusting into her hand. Korra feels hazy and distant and is desperate to feel alive right now, to feel alive and not a victim. Not a victim of Amon. Not anyone's victim. Not right now.
She's never done this before, and her fingers feel clumsy and slow. Tahno doesn't seem to notice; she twists her fingers around his cock and he throws his head back, lets out another low moan.
Korra blinks away the haze best she can, strokes him harder and faster, and in another moment Tahno's eyes meet hers, and he stares wide-eyed for a moment, face tense, mouth open, and then he thrusts into her hands, moaning, coming hard.
She stares at her damp hand and, for some inexplicable reason, laughs. Oh, yes, she's a little drunk. Korra's reaction time is obviously off, because when Tahno moves like a cat to press her against the wall, reversing their roles, she can only blink and laugh again.
They kiss. He pushes his hand into her waistband; she's driven crazy with wanting. Tahno bends to suck at her neck, his fingers working their way inside her.
"Tahno!" Korra yelps when he touches her, crooks his fingers, smirking. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, cries out softly. His lips are pressed against hers, his other hand on her breast. Korra moans loudly—did that sound really come from her mouth?—and she begins to feel a buildup. And then it's there, and she's crying out,
"Don't stop, don't stop,", and biting down on his shoulder, trying to keeping from screaming something that she'll regret, but hell, she'll regret this entire experience in the morning and in the end she comes violently, shaking, clinging to him.
They stand there, inches apart, both breathing hard. Tahno falls forward, against her, and they are caught up in a tight embrace for a moment. Korra feels weak, exhausted. Drunk. Yes, definitely drunk. Everything is slightly blurred, slightly muted. Her head spins a little.
"Tahno..."
And suddenly, Korra realizes what she's done—she's sleeping with the enemy! She pushes Tahno away, unable to force a smile, and staggers off towards the bar.
She's never drinking again.
When she resurfaces on the other side of the bay, the clouds are lower and darker. Korra emerges from the brown-gray water, shimmying onto the rough wooden dock.
She's out of the water five minutes when a crack of lightening severs the sky. Korra flinches, feels stupid. The smell of rain grows stronger.
When the storm breaks, it breaks hard. Lightening illuminating the sky like a false sun, and driving rain that soaks her to the bone. She tries to bend it away at first, but as the thunder growls over the mountains and rooftops Korra decides that it's not worth it.
The walk proves disheartening.
Every newsstand that she passes is plastered with Amon's face.
The headline of one local paper blares a serious question. IS THE AVATAR READY TO FACE AMON?
Korra dodges out of the gutter to avoid a passing Satomobile, her stomach clenching as she turns away from the grainy black-and-white accompanying photograph: it's her, shot from a distance with the Council members, addressing a crowd. Her hands spread like she's trying to fend off questions. She looks almost frightened, almost victimized.
Turning away, she fights to keep the bitterness from filling her hollow chest.
The teahouse is open, a few older men inside, probably playing chess and sheltering from the rain.
She staggers up the back stairs, into the dim hallway, hot and cold at the same time—is that even possible? Someone has drawn the paper lanterns in from the tea room's sign. Korra always notices the little things. Instinctively, she tries the door—unlocked.
What an idiot, leaving his door open at a time like this.
She's grateful, though, as she pushes inside. Tahno is standing in the front room, an article of clothing in his hand, half-folded.
Korra stands there dripping rainwater on the floor, breathless.
"I want you, Tahno."
He drops the clothing. "Want me to what, uh-vatar?"
As Korra closes the distant between them, pressing her damp body against his, she murmurs,
"To make me forget."
He sees her at the weekend market, a little before midday. She steps from the family's carriage—no hay-cart or two-wheeled roosterpony trap for Jai-Li Sang.
"Tahno! Tahno!" His small cousins swirl about, enjoying the general air of chaos. Tahno is supposed to be helping his father and uncle with the market stall, but he's distracted now, staring wide-eyed across the hubbub of bartering townspeople and farmers.
There is an ethereal beauty about her pale face, the sheen of her dark hair. There is a timid quality to her wide eyes, as if she's frightened by the crowd.
"Tahno!" His father's voice jerks him from his reverie. "Help your uncle with the cabbages, you lazy boy!"
Tahno is fourteen years old, has lived in the village long enough to know the Sang family's legacy. Wealthy, aloof in a distant sort of way—they live in a sprawling home in the rolling hills above the village, employ many servants, venture into town only when necessary. Market days are, apparently, a necessity.
He sets about helping Uncle Joh with the cabbages—unloading the damp green and purple vegetables onto a splintered wooden table, heaping them high, breathing in the scent of mist.
The sky overhead is flat and gray. Tahno tries to concentrate on helping, and not stealing glances in the direction of Jai-Li. Everyone knows her face, her beauty. She was a sweet child, a pretty little girl who has suddenly become beautiful.
Tahno is still unloading cabbages when a man's voice breaks his reverie again. This time it is not Uncle Joh.
"Excuse me, boy—how much for a dozen cabbages?"
He glances up, freezes cold. It's Mr. Sang.
A young boy stands beside him, listening earnestly, and behind them—
Jai-Li.
"Uh—it's—for a dozen...we normally charge..." He finds himself stumbling over simple words, unable to think straight. Jai-Li holds a paper umbrella, gazes from its shade. Tahno's eyes flicker across the gentle curves of her body, concealed beneath a red silk dress, then rake back up to her face.
He rattles off the wrong price. Mr. Sang, addressing the boy, conducts a brief lesson about marketing produce. Tahno stares, dumbstruck, at Jai-Li.
He thinks he's in love.
"Tahno," Korra moans, her teeth descending on her lower lip. She lets a whimper slide through, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. Tahno ducks his head and runs his tongue along her exposed clavicle, presses his palm against her clothed breasts.
They stagger down a short, dim hallway to his bedroom; Korra's pleasure-fogged mind registers a Spartanly-furnished space, a low, narrow bed. Stumbling backwards, still kissing fervently. She can feel him against her, already hard. He pushes her down slowly.
Tahno makes quick work of her tunic, stripping it off to reveal her white undergarments. Korra tugs at his waistband, rubs her hand against the bulge there. He ducks his head, letting out a low moan, and runs his tongue across her breasts. Korra thrusts her hand down the front of his pants, strokes him wildly as he touches her.
She wants more. She knows what she wants, and she wants him. Now.
Things escalate quickly, then, mostly thanks to Korra: she's sliding her pants down around her ankles, then off—pulling off Tahno's shirt, tracing her finger across the white scar on his shoulder; thrusting her hips up and grinding against him, making him whimper.
He wants this as badly as she does. Korra knows it. She unzips his pants, pulls him towards her. Tahno pauses; their eyes meet.
"Korra," He says slowly. "Are you...sure?"
She feels so hot and empty, like she could drift away at any moment—she needs an anchor.
"Yes."
He pauses at her entrance, her on her back and his hands by her shoulders, eyes locked on each other. And then he pushes into her and Korra sees stars.
For a moment, Korra is frozen—he's inside her; she's no longer a virgin, no longer pure, and it can never be regained. She can't take this back.
Tahno rocks forward, and she lets out a high whimper.
"What's wrong? Does it hurt?"
Korra bites her lip. "No."
"Mixing pleasure with pain, uh-vatar?"
"Shut up," Korra hisses, closing her eyes. He's smirking, but the sarcastic look doesn't quite reach his eyes. Korra tries to focus on anything but the pain radiating through her midsection; how is this pleasurable? She doesn't want to make a fool of herself. She also wants to feel something.
Pain is something.
So is pleasure.
And then Tahno keeps rocking back and forth, thrusting into her, and she feels the first wave of pleasure—hard, like a wave on a rocky beach.
"Fuck!" Korra cries out.
"You know I like it when you talk dirty," Tahno murmurs, close to her ear. Then there came several minutes (or was it hours? It felt like an eternity) of thrusting, soft moans, words whispered into the hot, still air. The rain continued to pound outside. Korra felt something heat within her, heat to the point of boiling, and she was on the edge, on the edge, so close...
In one swift move, she flipped him—an expert move, she thought smugly, straddling him effortlessly. She rocked back and forth, satisfied when he threw his head back and moaned. Her own pleasure was building steadily; she moved faster, desperately seeking more friction...she was so close, so close, so close...
She comes hard; she screams, and yes, she screams his name and maybe she'll regret it later, but right now there's only the white-hot moment of pleasure—Korra's never felt anything like this, ever.
And then she's on her back, Tahno above her, kissing her, his hand on her breast, and she knows that he's close. Korra closes her eyes, still riding a hot wave of pleasure, and in another moment Tahno is moaning, pulling out of her. He comes on her stomach. She feels a flash of relief—Korra's not stupid, she knows what could happen—and allows him to pull her close. Is this what it's always like, afterwards? Laying together on the narrow bed, half-unclothed, still breathless.
Time passes. Korra dozes off, dreams a half-dream about floating, Yue Bay, a rainbow in the Eastern sky, and wakes tangled up with Tahno. The storm is still raging beyond the wet windows.
Mako and Bolin will wonder where she is, they will worry. Tenzin will probably fret over her whereabouts. Korra should go back. It's been hours.
She tells Tahno that she has to leave. He pulls her in, kisses her again, and her eagerness to get back to the island fades.
"Stay here," Tahno says, his fingers moving deftly along her stomach, her hipbones.
"I can't," Korra says. "I can't, I'm sorry, I can't."
And she washes herself hastily in the bathroom, kisses him before she leaves—it's a chaste kiss this time, she can't explain why—and leaves. Korra wants to stay, wants to stay very badly, but as soon as she's out the door and onto the street, the guilt and regret begin to wash over her.
They are strong, as pounding and relentless as the rain, and by the time she arrives at Air Temple Island, the Avatar feels empty once more.
Another chapter! Please review and tell me what you think!