Korra removes her hand from her eyes. Bolin’s right there--Korra starts a bit at that, brain playing catch-up as her eyes devour all the new details revealed by his proximity. The hair on his chest, dark and trailing down. The dozens of miniscule water droplets clinging to his skin. His brilliant green eyes, framed by lashes the color of wet ink.
Korra can think of a million reasons to walk away and pretend like this never happened. It could destroy two of the only friendships she’s ever had. It could royally screw things up in the ring. She suspects Mako has a thing for her. She suspects she has a thing for Mako. She couldn’t trust herself to stop.
Bolin smiles softly.
Korra thinks, fuck it.
She kisses him.
The shower water clinging to his lips adds an element of wetness to it, and at first it’s almost awkward. This is Bolin, Korra thinks, oh, Spirits, what am I doing-
But then Bolin closes the remaining distance between their bodies with a relieved little sigh, and Korra’s better judgment admits defeat.
Her lips part slightly, and like every opportunity life presents him with, Bolin makes the most of it, gently grips the back of her neck and tilts his head slightly to the side and presses in softly with his tongue, just a tease really, but it’s enough to send an involuntary shudder through Korra’s body that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He pulls back a bit, and she can feel the smirk on his lips before he presses in again. His lips are soft and pliant, slow and patient. Korra nips at them, the sweet hunger building between her legs demanding more, now.
The skin of his chest is so hot. She can feel it through the towel still wrapped around her, a heat that permeates the fabric and seems to seep into her own skin, causing her to boil over. She tilts her head back, breaking the kiss to gasp for breath, and Bolin takes the opportunity to move his lips down to her neck, kisses at the sweat and steam beading at the crook of it, tongue darting out to taste her skin. The warm wetness of it tickles in the best of ways, and when he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot right below her ear and sucks, she can’t contain a throaty groan of appreciation. He grips her tighter at that, runs his hands up her back, and god, since when were his hands so huge, so wide and rough and suddenly an image flashes across her mind’s eye of those thick fingers pressing slowly, achingly slowly inside-
“Ohhh,” she sighs, clutching the thick hair at the nape of his neck.
“You like that?” he murmurs, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”
Bolin stops.
“I thought I said don’t stop,” Korra whines, cracking an eye open for the first time in what feels like hours.
“Can I…” She feels him finger the knotted portion of her towel, and the question in his eyes, wide and glazed over like he can’t believe this is happening, is obvious.
She’s relatively inexperienced at this sort of thing, but she knows when she wants something, and she definitely wants this.
“Allow me,” she smirks, untying the towel and letting it drop to the floor.
Bolin stares. Through the lust-filled haze clouding her brain, Korra feels a twinge of…embarrassment? No--Korra’s proud of her body, always has been. But no one else has ever seen her like this, so utterly bare and open. She gears up to say something, because Bolin’s stunned silence is starting to freak her out, but then-
“Spirits, Korra,” he mutters, crushing her to him, mouth dipping to resume its assault of her shoulder with renewed vigor, “you are so fucking hot.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Korra babbles, reveling in the feeling of her bare breasts pressed up against him. Bolin shifts a bit, lining their bodies up in just the right way, and she feels-
She feels…
“Is that a bending scroll in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Wait, why did I just say that?!
Thankfully, Bolin doesn’t appear to find her terrible jokes off-putting. He chuckles, and then he grinds up against her, smooth-hard heat against her hip. “Definitely not a bending scroll,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”
Korra can think of a million reasons to walk away and pretend like this never happened. It could destroy two of the only friendships she’s ever had. It could royally screw things up in the ring. She suspects Mako has a thing for her. She suspects she has a thing for Mako. She couldn’t trust herself to stop.
Bolin smiles softly.
Korra thinks, fuck it.
She kisses him.
The shower water clinging to his lips adds an element of wetness to it, and at first it’s almost awkward. This is Bolin, Korra thinks, oh, Spirits, what am I doing-
But then Bolin closes the remaining distance between their bodies with a relieved little sigh, and Korra’s better judgment admits defeat.
Her lips part slightly, and like every opportunity life presents him with, Bolin makes the most of it, gently grips the back of her neck and tilts his head slightly to the side and presses in softly with his tongue, just a tease really, but it’s enough to send an involuntary shudder through Korra’s body that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He pulls back a bit, and she can feel the smirk on his lips before he presses in again. His lips are soft and pliant, slow and patient. Korra nips at them, the sweet hunger building between her legs demanding more, now.
The skin of his chest is so hot. She can feel it through the towel still wrapped around her, a heat that permeates the fabric and seems to seep into her own skin, causing her to boil over. She tilts her head back, breaking the kiss to gasp for breath, and Bolin takes the opportunity to move his lips down to her neck, kisses at the sweat and steam beading at the crook of it, tongue darting out to taste her skin. The warm wetness of it tickles in the best of ways, and when he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot right below her ear and sucks, she can’t contain a throaty groan of appreciation. He grips her tighter at that, runs his hands up her back, and god, since when were his hands so huge, so wide and rough and suddenly an image flashes across her mind’s eye of those thick fingers pressing slowly, achingly slowly inside-
“Ohhh,” she sighs, clutching the thick hair at the nape of his neck.
“You like that?” he murmurs, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”
Bolin stops.
“I thought I said don’t stop,” Korra whines, cracking an eye open for the first time in what feels like hours.
“Can I…” She feels him finger the knotted portion of her towel, and the question in his eyes, wide and glazed over like he can’t believe this is happening, is obvious.
She’s relatively inexperienced at this sort of thing, but she knows when she wants something, and she definitely wants this.
“Allow me,” she smirks, untying the towel and letting it drop to the floor.
Bolin stares. Through the lust-filled haze clouding her brain, Korra feels a twinge of…embarrassment? No--Korra’s proud of her body, always has been. But no one else has ever seen her like this, so utterly bare and open. She gears up to say something, because Bolin’s stunned silence is starting to freak her out, but then-
“Spirits, Korra,” he mutters, crushing her to him, mouth dipping to resume its assault of her shoulder with renewed vigor, “you are so fucking hot.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Korra babbles, reveling in the feeling of her bare breasts pressed up against him. Bolin shifts a bit, lining their bodies up in just the right way, and she feels-
She feels…
“Is that a bending scroll in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Wait, why did I just say that?!
Thankfully, Bolin doesn’t appear to find her terrible jokes off-putting. He chuckles, and then he grinds up against her, smooth-hard heat against her hip. “Definitely not a bending scroll,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”
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