MORE MAKORRA
I can't remember in what order I wrote these, but they can all be found on my tumblr under "my fics" tag.
Title: electric twist
Rating: PG
Summary: Mako teaches Korra how to bend lightning.
Author's Notes: Mako's lightning-bending is sexy ok
The low-burning candles smell of jasmine and lotus blossom. Korra closes her eyes, letting herself blend in, just for a moment, with the relative darkness. When she opens them again, she finds a pair of amber eyes. She smiles, resting her hands in her lap, and leans forward slightly over the carpeted floor.
"So, is there a reason this feels like a meditation?"
Mako shakes his head, mirroring her smile. "You need to be very calm for this. I figured your meditation room would do as well as anything else." He's sitting so close to her that she can smell his scent, which is both familiar and attractive, and she knows her thoughts could wander dangerously in this darkened room if she doesn't stay focused. "Your firebending teacher didn't ever try to teach you this?"
"I'm not sure he knew how, himself," Korra replies. "It didn't used to be all that common of a skill, apparently."
He nods. "It's been developed more over time. You think you're ready for this?"
Korra's fingers brush his as they rest on the carpet, and she's drifted even closer now, scant inches keeping them apart. Mako suddenly feels like he is being consumed by her blue eyes. "Korra. The lesson?" They need to stay focused; they're in Tenzin's house. Being separated for several months while he trained with the police and she visited her family has made them a little less inhibited.
She rolls her eyes a little, and leans back. "Yes, I'm ready. But we aren't really going to bend lightning in here, are we?"
"No, we need open space for that. But you have to concentrate for this part."
She nods and leans away from him, too. Airbending training and wise words from her uncle have taught her to be more patient, but Mako is very good at breaking her resolve. "Teach away, city boy."
He lets out a sound of amusement, lips quirking up. "It also requires a complete lack of emotion."
She quirks an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Your body is becoming a conduit for pure energy. It has to travel right through your heart and out. You don't want anything to disrupt that. Bending lightning is very dangerous." He's giving her this look like he wants her to back down, and she scoffs.
"I know it's dangerous, and you wouldn't be teaching me if you weren't sure I was strong enough, would you?" Her smile is gentle. "I can handle it."
Of course, he knows she's strong enough. She's the girl who doesn't need saving, especially from him. But the problem with Mako letting people into his life (and his heart) is that he never, ever stops worrying about them.
"Okay," he says, pushing away the doubts. "Let's get started."
-
When Korra feels the yin and yang energies traveling through her body for the first time, it's so thrilling that it frightens her.
Sparks fly from her fingers, and then there's a small explosion that sends her backwards off her feet. She hits her head on a stone step in the courtyard and Mako's fingers tenderly probe the bruise blooming on her skull, telling her they can take a break, because she's hit her head pretty hard. But she's already surging to her feet again, ignoring the slight dizziness.
"Let me try again," she says, because bending has never made her feel quite like that before.
-
It's easy for Korra to understand why Mako is so skilled at bending lightning.
He is precise, dedicated, centered. She has a hard time imagining when her boy was lost and broken, because he is so good at holding himself - and her - together. She knows there are things he still hasn't told her, things about his past that are dark and sad and haunt his eyes sometimes when he thinks she's not looking. But he never shows it, never talks about it, and it hasn't made him any weaker. If anything, the tragedy in his life has made him stronger, capable of doing more. Sometimes, Korra isn't sure whether she should be proud of him for that or just sad.
She doesn't have much practice in schooling her own emotions. She speaks her mind, acts first and asks questions later, is often irrational and hot-tempered. When she's angry, or sad, or happy, everyone knows it. It's written plainly on her face and the way she carries herself. Even the learned calm that came with her airbending training couldn't keep her from wearing her emotions on her sleeve.
Emptying herself of feeling is harder than she thought, especially when Mako is her teacher.
-
After a couple more tries, Korra gets it. Lightning crackles from her fingertips and makes her hair stand on end, her skin prickle, her body thrum with energy. It feels like an extension of herself, much like all her bending does, but altogether very different. It’s still frightening, because she isn’t in control. She’s only a guide. And as the blue light illuminates the darkness of the courtyard, she begins to understand why this technique was once so rare.
She practices for several nights by herself, perfecting her manipulation of the lightning, until she is able to send it sizzling through the sky over Yue Bay like the warning of a fierce storm.
It makes her feel powerful. Tenzin and her uncle have both warned her about pride more times than she can count, but she can’t help feeling proud now. She laughs as her lightning strikes the sky again.
If there’s anyone else out there who wants to mess up the balance of this world, come on out!
-
Across from Yue Bay, looking out the window of his tiny apartment near the police station, Mako sees the lightning and smiles.
-
“You know, it took me almost a year to fully master that technique,” he says later, as he and Korra lay in a heap of tangled limbs on his bed.
“What technique?” She’s lazy, relaxed, tipping her head lazily to meet his eyes as her fingers make light circles over the bare skin of his chest.
“Bending lightning. I saw the storm earlier.”
She pouts a little. “Oh, it was going to be a surprise. I was going to demonstrate for you in person.”
He pulls her up a little closer, pressing his nose into her hair, taking in the scent of rain and wind that he always associates with her. “It’s okay. That was quite a clear demonstration.”
Her fingers trail down his sides, making him shiver. “So it took you a year? How come?”
“I dunno.” It’s comfortable, here in the dark with Korra’s warm skin pressed up against his own, and it opens the hole inside him where he hides the dark things. “For a long time, I was uncomfortable using my firebending after my parents were killed. I used it because I had to. Because I had to protect Bolin, and we were alone on the streets. If you can believe it, some of the guys from the bending triads are the ones who gave me a positive outlook on my firebending again.” Sensing her surprise even without looking at her, he goes on. “They aren’t all bad, you know. They’re criminals, but they taught me how to honor my heritage again.”
“By making you break the law.”
“No, by helping me realize that my firebending is part of me and that being ashamed of it is like being ashamed of myself.”
Korra nods slowly. “So what does that have to do with it taking you a year to master lightning?”
He shrugs. “I was told it had something to do with being at war with myself because I couldn’t accept who I was. Well…I accepted it, but I wasn’t proud of it.”
Korra is silent for a moment, before she realizes he’s finally told her something real and solid about his past, and happily she sits up enough to kiss him.
He smiles into the kiss. “What was that for?”
In answer, she kisses him again. “You’re a big idiot. Just remember that I’m always proud of you.”
Mako pulls her close before she can sit back and no other words are spoken.
Title: keep this fire burning
Rating: R for sex
Summary: Mako and Korra honeymoon on Ember Island.
Author Notes: I wrote this for makorraexchange back in Feb (I think this was a Valentine's thing). Francesca (pulpofiction on tumblr) asked for wall sex so that is what I wrote.
Korra gives such a long stretch that her entire body shudders, as if invisible strings inside her have been pulled too tightly and are thrumming with the tension. Mako follows the extended length of her torso, watching the way the muscles rippled just beneath her brown skin, his eyes lingering just for a moment on the swells of her breasts just barely contained by the rich red cloth that covers them. She thinks it’s so hot here that she’s taken to dressing like the native girls, which is very sparsely. As she shifts and stretches again he catches the outline of her hips beneath the wrap around her waist, and a sudden wave of desire draws a low sigh from him. She glances at him in the dying candlelight, eyes bright with mischief.
“You know, I’m thinking maybe we should just live here,” she says, rotating first one shoulder, and then the other. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she continues, “We’ve been treated like royalty ever since we set foot on this island! I mean, I guess I have Aang to thank again because he used to take his family on vacations here with Firelord Zuko and everyone alive associates the Avatar title with Aang’s legend…” Korra trails off, her eyebrows drawing together for a moment, and before Mako can cut in, she hurries on. “But it was pretty nice of them to give us the best house with the best view, and all these candles and flowers and romantic atmosphere for our first night as husband and wife.”
Hearing the words sends a thrill through Mako’s blood, as if he’s forgotten already that he married the love of his life not even twelve hours ago. In some ways, it seems like it’s been longer; the idea that Asami had gotten them from the North Pole to Ember Island in less than a day still boggles his mind. But Korra’s eyes are still slightly lined with kohl, her hair still crimped from the feathers and braids that had been woven into them, and when he looks at her it feels like they time traveled and landed on Ember Island in the blink of an eye.
“It would be hard to patrol Republic City from all the way over here,” Mako says, as Korra drifts closer. He can’t understand why he chose to mention work when his girlfriend - his wife - is inches away from him in very little clothing and is very deliberately flaunting her body in front of him. She smirks when he catches on to the fabric of her wrap, dangling below her knees, and tugs her down into his lap. “But we definitely can’t light this many candles in our apartment back home.”
“Nope.” His wife shakes her head, smile deepening as she cards her fingers through his short hair and his hands wander over the curves of her waist. “We’d set the place on fire.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“No. Although, my bending could take care of it pretty easily.” She drops a kiss onto the column of his neck, the warm touch of her lips making his hair stand on end.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says quietly, sliding his hands across the toned expanse of her back.
“Why are we still talking?”
“No idea.” He meets her mouth as it moves in to his, their lips crashing together and coming apart again in a way that’s as familiar to them as breathing now that they’ve been together so long. She surges up in his lap as they kiss, pushing him down by the shoulders, yanking the soft fabric of her wrap up until it’s bared her legs enough to straddle him properly. His hands move up her back and quickly unravel her top, allowing her breasts to come free, at perfect level with his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue to one of her nipples, she grabs his hair and pulls him impossibly closer. He smirks a little against her skin.
She’s almost always impatient, even when they have all the time in the world, like it’s a race and she can’t stand to lose. Her touch is usually demanding, her pace frantic and rough, and she has little finesse. He loves that about her. It’s not that she’s hurrying to get to the end, it’s that he can cause her to lose control with so little effort. Korra’s never had much control to begin with, but to watch her unravel in bed is very different than watching her unleash fury on the battlefield. It’s intoxicating, the way she scratches and growls her way to climax. Tonight, though, he wants things to be a little different.
He still has his mouth on her breast as his other hand travels lower, skimming the smooth skin of her stomach, skipping down over the fabric on her thigh. He doesn’t even think she’s aware of it until his fingers move up between her legs. Then she gasps, her hands tightening on his shoulders, and her hips rock a little as he moves his fingers in slow circles, teasing her in a way he knows she likes, but at a pace she typically finds too slow. Sure enough, moments later she’s jerking her hips, a clear sign that she wants him to go faster, but he doesn’t listen. A frustrated sound escapes her throat, and she reaches down to guide him herself.
Mako catches her wrist, then brings it to his mouth to breathe against her skin. “You’re always in such a hurry.”
“You’re going too slow,” she nearly whines, and he almost laughs.
“I think you like it this way, too.”
“I’ll show you what I like,” Korra breathes, and she pulls the wrap off her hips in one quick motion, leaving her completely naked except for the few feathers still in her hair. She brushes his hand away, and he watches as she dips her own fingers between her legs. His breath catches slightly; she’s done this before, and she isn’t shy, but she doesn’t do it often and it never fails to make his blood run hotter. She keeps one hand on his shoulder as she works herself, eyes closed in concentration, teeth biting into her lower lip. Mako loosens his trousers a bit, and the rustling sound makes her open one eye.
“Don’t hold back,” she says with a bit of a grin, her voice breathy, “if you wanna touch yourself, too.”
Mako flushes a bit. He’s not as immodest as she is, although they’ve been more than comfortable with each other’s bodies for several years. He likes watching her, but putting on a show himself is a little more difficult. Instead of complying, he reaches down and presses his fingers against hers, which makes her arch her back with a little gasp. He tucks his head into her neck, pressing wet kisses against her skin as she continues to touch herself, and he memorizes the rhythm of her fingers beneath his own. A moment later, she starts to tremble, and he swiftly moves her hand away. Mako swallows her protest with a kiss.
“Want to feel you,” he murmurs against her lips.
She smiles, and he grasps hold of her hips, pulling her against him and standing up with her. Korra kisses him wildly, her arms thrown around him, legs tightening around his waist. The muscles in her thighs are so strong that she can hold herself up with very little effort, which comes in handy whenever they want to have sex standing up. Korra likes it - sometimes she invites him to work and pushes him into a tiny hall closet at city hall and braces herself against the shelves while they quietly gasp their way to climax. Mako feels more than sees the smirk on her mouth when he pushes her roughly against the wall of the bungalow, hands curling into her hair.
She grasps his shoulders, nails making pale marks on his skin. They dig in painfully when he slips inside her, making him groan, and she matches the sound with a soft sigh, head falling back slightly. He adjusts his grip on her and starts to move, staying close enough that their foreheads press together and their erratic breaths mingle. The humid air fills the room, making them both slick with sweat in no time. Mako’s hands slip on her thighs, but she locks her legs tighter around his waist and manages to keep herself up as he thrusts up roughly. Her hands are everywhere, like she can’t decide what to do with them: raking lines in his back, tearing at his shoulders, sliding up and pulling on his hair. The pain is somewhat enjoyable to him, and she knows that, so she’s never afraid to handle him roughly. In return, he knows he can bruise her with kisses, tangle his fingers in her hair, bite hard on her neck and he knows it’ll only make her moan louder. He relishes the sound she makes when he nibbles her skin now, just below her ear.
She breathes a low curse that makes his blood burn hotter.
They always build off of each other. As one’s pleasure rises, the other rises to match it, until they’re both burning so hot that the inferno swallows them both. He can always tell when Korra’s there; her toes curl against his back, her arms tighten around his neck, and she braces herself like she’s waiting for a blow. When her breath catches and she starts stiffening against him, Mako surges against her and drops both hands to her ass, lifting her higher against the wall. He holds her there as she starts to climax, shuddering against him, but his grip on her slackens when he follows behind her, and she has to hold on to him to keep him standing.
Long moments later, they realize they’ve both crumpled to the ground in the aftermath, a tangle of weak limbs and damp skin. Korra brushes her mussed hair out of her face with a grin, pushing herself on top of him so she can pull him into a kiss. He smiles and pulls a loose feather from her hair, flicking it aside.
“Think of how much more often we’ll get to do that now that we’re gonna live with each other,” is the first thing she says when they catch their breath. He chuffs a laugh.
“A lot’s going to be different,” he answers, letting his fingers make a river through her hair and down her back.
“Yeah,” Korra grins, folding her arms over his chest and propping her chin on them. “Are you ready to be Mr. Avatar?”
Mako snorts, although the name isn’t entirely inappropriate. Instead of taking his name, he’s now sharing hers. By marrying the Avatar, he’s also marrying the world that she’s been bound since birth to protect. He’s part of something bigger, though he knew that the moment he met her. He’s been ready to stand behind her long before he asked her to marry him, even long before their relationship became romantic. Looking at her now, he can see the world that she’s loved and protected for thousands of years shining inside her eyes, making her vibrant and beautiful with power and love and sacrifice.
His face softens, and he pulls her more tightly against him. “I’ve always been ready.”
Title: your memories are loud
Rating: PG
Summary: Mako comes home to a quiet apartment.
Author's Notes: There was a discussion on tumblr about Korra shaving Mako's stubble/beard, so that is in here.
He fumbles his way into the apartment in the mute light of early dawn, and everything's so still and silent and perfect that it's almost harsh against his senses. In his head, he can still hear gunshots, the whir of metal cables flying through the air, and loud sirens. The cool summer wind tearing at his uniform as he chased after three getaway cars on his motorbike. The terrifying shudder of his heart as one of the criminals' bullets nearly grazed his ear.
But inside his and Korra's apartment, it's quiet and cool, and it's like being touched by her healing water. The tension still hangs in his bones, but he feels better.
It always surprises him to find Korra awake early in the morning, but it's especially odd to see her up before the sun has even completely broken the horizon. But here she is, sitting in the middle of their bed in her underwear, eyes closed and back ramrod straight. She must be meditating, he thinks, which is a somewhat new practice for her - normally she's jittering her way through Tenzin's mandatory sessions, eager to get her blood pumping again. She could be a statue now, as cold and hard as the stone of her predecessor that overlooks the city.
When he steps in, it's like she senses his presence. Bright blue eyes peer at him in the dim light, and she smiles. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Mako says. "I don't think I've ever heard you say those words before."
She laughs softly, stretching like a cat, and climbs off the bed. "I couldn't sleep. Tenzin says this can help." His fingers graze her elbows as she moves into the space he opened up for her, reaching out for her even before she got up. She tilts her chin up to receive his kiss and even her lips feel cool against his, another soothing balm that dwindles the noisy memories in his head. A moment later, though, she pulls away with a small, displeased sound. "Beard's starting to come in." Her hands rasp against the hair growing along his jaw and chin.
"I guess I haven't shaved in a few days," he says, leaning unconsciously into her touch.
"Well, if you're coming back to bed with me, we should take care of that." Korra grabs him by the lapels and drags him to the bathroom like it's the most normal thing in the world to give your boyfriend a shave at 5 am. Mako's too tired to put up any resistance, and they see one another so rarely these days that he'll take whatever time he can get with her.
In the mirror, his face is pale and angular, eyes made sunken into his cheeks by the dark circles under them. The beard spreads across his jaw like tiny drops of ink, prominent against his light skin. He tilts his chin up slightly and runs his hand over it, feeling the way it scrapes against his fingers. He looks older. It's possibly the first time his physical appearance reflects the rapid rate at which he's been maturing since he was eight years old. People always tell him he looks so young.
"You don't like it?" he asks, glancing at her with a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.
"It doesn't work," Korra replies, matter-of-fact, as she hops up onto the sink in front of him. She rests her knees on either side of his hips, keeping him close, bare toes brushing the fabric of his pants. "You don't need to be hiding that chiseled jaw behind any hair."
He smirks. "You just don't like the way it feels when I kiss you."
"Nope." She pops the 'p', spreading sweet-smelling cream along the beard line. She lifts the razor after wetting it and it slides smoothly over his skin, the sound of it soft in his ears. He closes his eyes and lets his mind absorb the sound, staying in the moment. In this quiet, he feels like he could almost go to sleep just standing there. But Korra's voice breaks his stupor.
"You look like you've had a hard night." The razor makes a slow, meandering path along the underside of his chin. He shrugs a little, and she frowns. "Mako, I do listen to the radio."
He sets his jaw as a blob of white cream drips off onto the floor between them. "It was fine. Two of them got away, but we caught..."
"Shin," Korra finishes quietly. "That's his name, right?" Mako nods stiffly, and she reaches up to wipe some of the hair and cream away from his face. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he replies, taking a deep breath through his nose. And he is, he's fine, really fine. He and Shin were never particularly close, even when they were working together as scrawny teenagers in the grimy underbelly of the city. Having Shin shoot a bullet right past his head had been something of a surprise, but he'd still missed. He never was much of a good shot.
"I know you and Bolin were..." Korra hesitates, not wanting to use the word 'friends'. "Acquainted with him," she says finally. "Bolin was over here earlier, when we were listening to the report."
Mako nods. "We used to work together." Stay away from the part of town, you're more likely to get pickpocketed or worse on the other side of the railroad. Keep to this side, stay together, blend in with the crowd. Part of your job is going by unnoticed. And here, see those restaurants up there? The ones at the end of the street always have food in the garbage at the end of the night. Sometimes you can get almost a whole plate of noodles. And that's some of the best quality food Republic City has to offer! He sees Bolin in his mind, still short at twelve, struggling to keep up with the larger strides of the older boys.
“It wasn’t hard?” Korra asks. “You know, having to arrest him.”
It wasn’t hard fighting Shin, because they had been taught the same moves and his were all too easy to predict. It wasn’t even hard to clap the handcuffs around his wrists and keep eye contact while he told him his rights. It wasn’t hard to push him into the truck afterwards to let him be taken downtown. But there is still something that rankles, something that weighs him down and prevents the memories from sliding down into the dark, silent water of his head, something that forces them to float on the surface and swell together like a maelstrom.
What this city must be coming to if fuckers like us are suddenly allowed to become cops, huh?
Spoken with a token crooked grin and a tip of his hat. The animosity that had fired the gun at Mako’s head moments earlier had disappeared entirely.
The comment stung like a dragon-wasp and buried deep, splintering his skin, injecting the memories into his blood.
Cold night, huh? Here, have a cig. No, it’s on me. Look, if you and your brother need a place to stay, I can hook you up. I know you think you’re alone out here, but you’re Triad now. We ain’t nothin’ if we don’t look after our own. You got a good memory? I’ll tell you where to go. Just tell ‘em I sent ya and they’ll let you kip in, as long as you don’t mind doing a little dirty work. It gets ya outta the cold, at least. Think about it, Mako - you keep him out on the street in weather like this much longer, he ain’t gonna last.
Mako shakes his head, and the memories become jumbled.
Fuckers like us
--like family, we look after our own -
Korra lifts a soft towel to his face, wiping away the rest of the water and cream, and he comes back to himself, allows her to draw him back into the present with the pull of her sea-blue eyes. He clears his throat, touching the newly softened line of his jaw for a moment as she watches him.
“Do you ever think,” he starts, “do you ever think that Beifong only let me become a cop because of you?”
She looks utterly perplexed. “What in the spirits’ name gave you that idea?”
“I’ve got a criminal record. It’s not the sort of thing that’s overlooked when it comes to other candidates, is it?”
“Sure, but did other candidates help this city get rid of Amon and the Equalists?” Korra asks, lifting her hands to his face. “You don’t think that might have been just a little redeeming?”
He shakes his head. “I hardly did anything, you-“
“I wouldn’t have even had the strength to face him without you,” she interrupts, sliding off the sink and dropping the razor on the counter. “So don’t even try to tell me that you did nothing.”
They’re quiet as they walk to the bedroom and slide under the cool sheets, bodies automatically gravitating towards one another even though he can still feel the slight tension in Korra’s body, the way she slightly closes herself off to him when she’s annoyed. He presses his mouth against her shoulder, a quiet apology, and after a moment, she seems to accept.
“You passed those tests on your own, Mako. You passed the same ones as everyone else. Beifong thought you were good enough to give a second chance. I don’t think you should beat yourself up any more than you already do over your past.”
He nods a bit, turning her words over in his head, and after a moment mutters against her skin, “They used to tell us in the Triads that once you joined you could never go back. Men moved on, children grew up, but some part of them was always Triad. They were…like family, for Bolin and me. Without them, we might not have made it out there. Shin was a few years older than me, but he treated us like equals. Like brothers.”
Korra twists her head on the pillow so that her nose bumps against his. “They taught you how to steal and deceive and hurt people. You think that’s what brothers do?”
He frowns. “I…”
“What you did for Bolin -got him off the street, gave him hope for a better life, kept him fed and clothed-that’s what brothers do. Bolin’s your family, Mako. He’s all you’ve got.”
Listen, kid, at the end of the day, it’s every man for himself, got it? Somethin’ goes wrong, we get busted by the cops, you have to look after yourself. Don’t expect anyone to stay behind and tell you what to do. You ain’t smart, you’ll get yourself killed. You wanna protect that little brother of yours, right? You gotta be smart. You listen to me, and you’ll be fine.
Mako lets out a breath, and with it he exhales the memory of Shin’s voice, coming to him from dirty alleyways and abandoned warehouses and junkyards. When he breathes in again, it’s the clean scent of Korra’s hair and the warmth of her body and the light that fills her eyes when he kisses her. As she pulls him over her on the bed, the flood calms, recedes, and washes away, leaving only the rich desert of her skin.
Title: electric twist
Rating: PG
Summary: Mako teaches Korra how to bend lightning.
Author's Notes: Mako's lightning-bending is sexy ok
The low-burning candles smell of jasmine and lotus blossom. Korra closes her eyes, letting herself blend in, just for a moment, with the relative darkness. When she opens them again, she finds a pair of amber eyes. She smiles, resting her hands in her lap, and leans forward slightly over the carpeted floor.
"So, is there a reason this feels like a meditation?"
Mako shakes his head, mirroring her smile. "You need to be very calm for this. I figured your meditation room would do as well as anything else." He's sitting so close to her that she can smell his scent, which is both familiar and attractive, and she knows her thoughts could wander dangerously in this darkened room if she doesn't stay focused. "Your firebending teacher didn't ever try to teach you this?"
"I'm not sure he knew how, himself," Korra replies. "It didn't used to be all that common of a skill, apparently."
He nods. "It's been developed more over time. You think you're ready for this?"
Korra's fingers brush his as they rest on the carpet, and she's drifted even closer now, scant inches keeping them apart. Mako suddenly feels like he is being consumed by her blue eyes. "Korra. The lesson?" They need to stay focused; they're in Tenzin's house. Being separated for several months while he trained with the police and she visited her family has made them a little less inhibited.
She rolls her eyes a little, and leans back. "Yes, I'm ready. But we aren't really going to bend lightning in here, are we?"
"No, we need open space for that. But you have to concentrate for this part."
She nods and leans away from him, too. Airbending training and wise words from her uncle have taught her to be more patient, but Mako is very good at breaking her resolve. "Teach away, city boy."
He lets out a sound of amusement, lips quirking up. "It also requires a complete lack of emotion."
She quirks an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Your body is becoming a conduit for pure energy. It has to travel right through your heart and out. You don't want anything to disrupt that. Bending lightning is very dangerous." He's giving her this look like he wants her to back down, and she scoffs.
"I know it's dangerous, and you wouldn't be teaching me if you weren't sure I was strong enough, would you?" Her smile is gentle. "I can handle it."
Of course, he knows she's strong enough. She's the girl who doesn't need saving, especially from him. But the problem with Mako letting people into his life (and his heart) is that he never, ever stops worrying about them.
"Okay," he says, pushing away the doubts. "Let's get started."
-
When Korra feels the yin and yang energies traveling through her body for the first time, it's so thrilling that it frightens her.
Sparks fly from her fingers, and then there's a small explosion that sends her backwards off her feet. She hits her head on a stone step in the courtyard and Mako's fingers tenderly probe the bruise blooming on her skull, telling her they can take a break, because she's hit her head pretty hard. But she's already surging to her feet again, ignoring the slight dizziness.
"Let me try again," she says, because bending has never made her feel quite like that before.
-
It's easy for Korra to understand why Mako is so skilled at bending lightning.
He is precise, dedicated, centered. She has a hard time imagining when her boy was lost and broken, because he is so good at holding himself - and her - together. She knows there are things he still hasn't told her, things about his past that are dark and sad and haunt his eyes sometimes when he thinks she's not looking. But he never shows it, never talks about it, and it hasn't made him any weaker. If anything, the tragedy in his life has made him stronger, capable of doing more. Sometimes, Korra isn't sure whether she should be proud of him for that or just sad.
She doesn't have much practice in schooling her own emotions. She speaks her mind, acts first and asks questions later, is often irrational and hot-tempered. When she's angry, or sad, or happy, everyone knows it. It's written plainly on her face and the way she carries herself. Even the learned calm that came with her airbending training couldn't keep her from wearing her emotions on her sleeve.
Emptying herself of feeling is harder than she thought, especially when Mako is her teacher.
-
After a couple more tries, Korra gets it. Lightning crackles from her fingertips and makes her hair stand on end, her skin prickle, her body thrum with energy. It feels like an extension of herself, much like all her bending does, but altogether very different. It’s still frightening, because she isn’t in control. She’s only a guide. And as the blue light illuminates the darkness of the courtyard, she begins to understand why this technique was once so rare.
She practices for several nights by herself, perfecting her manipulation of the lightning, until she is able to send it sizzling through the sky over Yue Bay like the warning of a fierce storm.
It makes her feel powerful. Tenzin and her uncle have both warned her about pride more times than she can count, but she can’t help feeling proud now. She laughs as her lightning strikes the sky again.
If there’s anyone else out there who wants to mess up the balance of this world, come on out!
-
Across from Yue Bay, looking out the window of his tiny apartment near the police station, Mako sees the lightning and smiles.
-
“You know, it took me almost a year to fully master that technique,” he says later, as he and Korra lay in a heap of tangled limbs on his bed.
“What technique?” She’s lazy, relaxed, tipping her head lazily to meet his eyes as her fingers make light circles over the bare skin of his chest.
“Bending lightning. I saw the storm earlier.”
She pouts a little. “Oh, it was going to be a surprise. I was going to demonstrate for you in person.”
He pulls her up a little closer, pressing his nose into her hair, taking in the scent of rain and wind that he always associates with her. “It’s okay. That was quite a clear demonstration.”
Her fingers trail down his sides, making him shiver. “So it took you a year? How come?”
“I dunno.” It’s comfortable, here in the dark with Korra’s warm skin pressed up against his own, and it opens the hole inside him where he hides the dark things. “For a long time, I was uncomfortable using my firebending after my parents were killed. I used it because I had to. Because I had to protect Bolin, and we were alone on the streets. If you can believe it, some of the guys from the bending triads are the ones who gave me a positive outlook on my firebending again.” Sensing her surprise even without looking at her, he goes on. “They aren’t all bad, you know. They’re criminals, but they taught me how to honor my heritage again.”
“By making you break the law.”
“No, by helping me realize that my firebending is part of me and that being ashamed of it is like being ashamed of myself.”
Korra nods slowly. “So what does that have to do with it taking you a year to master lightning?”
He shrugs. “I was told it had something to do with being at war with myself because I couldn’t accept who I was. Well…I accepted it, but I wasn’t proud of it.”
Korra is silent for a moment, before she realizes he’s finally told her something real and solid about his past, and happily she sits up enough to kiss him.
He smiles into the kiss. “What was that for?”
In answer, she kisses him again. “You’re a big idiot. Just remember that I’m always proud of you.”
Mako pulls her close before she can sit back and no other words are spoken.
Title: keep this fire burning
Rating: R for sex
Summary: Mako and Korra honeymoon on Ember Island.
Author Notes: I wrote this for makorraexchange back in Feb (I think this was a Valentine's thing). Francesca (pulpofiction on tumblr) asked for wall sex so that is what I wrote.
Korra gives such a long stretch that her entire body shudders, as if invisible strings inside her have been pulled too tightly and are thrumming with the tension. Mako follows the extended length of her torso, watching the way the muscles rippled just beneath her brown skin, his eyes lingering just for a moment on the swells of her breasts just barely contained by the rich red cloth that covers them. She thinks it’s so hot here that she’s taken to dressing like the native girls, which is very sparsely. As she shifts and stretches again he catches the outline of her hips beneath the wrap around her waist, and a sudden wave of desire draws a low sigh from him. She glances at him in the dying candlelight, eyes bright with mischief.
“You know, I’m thinking maybe we should just live here,” she says, rotating first one shoulder, and then the other. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she continues, “We’ve been treated like royalty ever since we set foot on this island! I mean, I guess I have Aang to thank again because he used to take his family on vacations here with Firelord Zuko and everyone alive associates the Avatar title with Aang’s legend…” Korra trails off, her eyebrows drawing together for a moment, and before Mako can cut in, she hurries on. “But it was pretty nice of them to give us the best house with the best view, and all these candles and flowers and romantic atmosphere for our first night as husband and wife.”
Hearing the words sends a thrill through Mako’s blood, as if he’s forgotten already that he married the love of his life not even twelve hours ago. In some ways, it seems like it’s been longer; the idea that Asami had gotten them from the North Pole to Ember Island in less than a day still boggles his mind. But Korra’s eyes are still slightly lined with kohl, her hair still crimped from the feathers and braids that had been woven into them, and when he looks at her it feels like they time traveled and landed on Ember Island in the blink of an eye.
“It would be hard to patrol Republic City from all the way over here,” Mako says, as Korra drifts closer. He can’t understand why he chose to mention work when his girlfriend - his wife - is inches away from him in very little clothing and is very deliberately flaunting her body in front of him. She smirks when he catches on to the fabric of her wrap, dangling below her knees, and tugs her down into his lap. “But we definitely can’t light this many candles in our apartment back home.”
“Nope.” His wife shakes her head, smile deepening as she cards her fingers through his short hair and his hands wander over the curves of her waist. “We’d set the place on fire.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“No. Although, my bending could take care of it pretty easily.” She drops a kiss onto the column of his neck, the warm touch of her lips making his hair stand on end.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he says quietly, sliding his hands across the toned expanse of her back.
“Why are we still talking?”
“No idea.” He meets her mouth as it moves in to his, their lips crashing together and coming apart again in a way that’s as familiar to them as breathing now that they’ve been together so long. She surges up in his lap as they kiss, pushing him down by the shoulders, yanking the soft fabric of her wrap up until it’s bared her legs enough to straddle him properly. His hands move up her back and quickly unravel her top, allowing her breasts to come free, at perfect level with his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue to one of her nipples, she grabs his hair and pulls him impossibly closer. He smirks a little against her skin.
She’s almost always impatient, even when they have all the time in the world, like it’s a race and she can’t stand to lose. Her touch is usually demanding, her pace frantic and rough, and she has little finesse. He loves that about her. It’s not that she’s hurrying to get to the end, it’s that he can cause her to lose control with so little effort. Korra’s never had much control to begin with, but to watch her unravel in bed is very different than watching her unleash fury on the battlefield. It’s intoxicating, the way she scratches and growls her way to climax. Tonight, though, he wants things to be a little different.
He still has his mouth on her breast as his other hand travels lower, skimming the smooth skin of her stomach, skipping down over the fabric on her thigh. He doesn’t even think she’s aware of it until his fingers move up between her legs. Then she gasps, her hands tightening on his shoulders, and her hips rock a little as he moves his fingers in slow circles, teasing her in a way he knows she likes, but at a pace she typically finds too slow. Sure enough, moments later she’s jerking her hips, a clear sign that she wants him to go faster, but he doesn’t listen. A frustrated sound escapes her throat, and she reaches down to guide him herself.
Mako catches her wrist, then brings it to his mouth to breathe against her skin. “You’re always in such a hurry.”
“You’re going too slow,” she nearly whines, and he almost laughs.
“I think you like it this way, too.”
“I’ll show you what I like,” Korra breathes, and she pulls the wrap off her hips in one quick motion, leaving her completely naked except for the few feathers still in her hair. She brushes his hand away, and he watches as she dips her own fingers between her legs. His breath catches slightly; she’s done this before, and she isn’t shy, but she doesn’t do it often and it never fails to make his blood run hotter. She keeps one hand on his shoulder as she works herself, eyes closed in concentration, teeth biting into her lower lip. Mako loosens his trousers a bit, and the rustling sound makes her open one eye.
“Don’t hold back,” she says with a bit of a grin, her voice breathy, “if you wanna touch yourself, too.”
Mako flushes a bit. He’s not as immodest as she is, although they’ve been more than comfortable with each other’s bodies for several years. He likes watching her, but putting on a show himself is a little more difficult. Instead of complying, he reaches down and presses his fingers against hers, which makes her arch her back with a little gasp. He tucks his head into her neck, pressing wet kisses against her skin as she continues to touch herself, and he memorizes the rhythm of her fingers beneath his own. A moment later, she starts to tremble, and he swiftly moves her hand away. Mako swallows her protest with a kiss.
“Want to feel you,” he murmurs against her lips.
She smiles, and he grasps hold of her hips, pulling her against him and standing up with her. Korra kisses him wildly, her arms thrown around him, legs tightening around his waist. The muscles in her thighs are so strong that she can hold herself up with very little effort, which comes in handy whenever they want to have sex standing up. Korra likes it - sometimes she invites him to work and pushes him into a tiny hall closet at city hall and braces herself against the shelves while they quietly gasp their way to climax. Mako feels more than sees the smirk on her mouth when he pushes her roughly against the wall of the bungalow, hands curling into her hair.
She grasps his shoulders, nails making pale marks on his skin. They dig in painfully when he slips inside her, making him groan, and she matches the sound with a soft sigh, head falling back slightly. He adjusts his grip on her and starts to move, staying close enough that their foreheads press together and their erratic breaths mingle. The humid air fills the room, making them both slick with sweat in no time. Mako’s hands slip on her thighs, but she locks her legs tighter around his waist and manages to keep herself up as he thrusts up roughly. Her hands are everywhere, like she can’t decide what to do with them: raking lines in his back, tearing at his shoulders, sliding up and pulling on his hair. The pain is somewhat enjoyable to him, and she knows that, so she’s never afraid to handle him roughly. In return, he knows he can bruise her with kisses, tangle his fingers in her hair, bite hard on her neck and he knows it’ll only make her moan louder. He relishes the sound she makes when he nibbles her skin now, just below her ear.
She breathes a low curse that makes his blood burn hotter.
They always build off of each other. As one’s pleasure rises, the other rises to match it, until they’re both burning so hot that the inferno swallows them both. He can always tell when Korra’s there; her toes curl against his back, her arms tighten around his neck, and she braces herself like she’s waiting for a blow. When her breath catches and she starts stiffening against him, Mako surges against her and drops both hands to her ass, lifting her higher against the wall. He holds her there as she starts to climax, shuddering against him, but his grip on her slackens when he follows behind her, and she has to hold on to him to keep him standing.
Long moments later, they realize they’ve both crumpled to the ground in the aftermath, a tangle of weak limbs and damp skin. Korra brushes her mussed hair out of her face with a grin, pushing herself on top of him so she can pull him into a kiss. He smiles and pulls a loose feather from her hair, flicking it aside.
“Think of how much more often we’ll get to do that now that we’re gonna live with each other,” is the first thing she says when they catch their breath. He chuffs a laugh.
“A lot’s going to be different,” he answers, letting his fingers make a river through her hair and down her back.
“Yeah,” Korra grins, folding her arms over his chest and propping her chin on them. “Are you ready to be Mr. Avatar?”
Mako snorts, although the name isn’t entirely inappropriate. Instead of taking his name, he’s now sharing hers. By marrying the Avatar, he’s also marrying the world that she’s been bound since birth to protect. He’s part of something bigger, though he knew that the moment he met her. He’s been ready to stand behind her long before he asked her to marry him, even long before their relationship became romantic. Looking at her now, he can see the world that she’s loved and protected for thousands of years shining inside her eyes, making her vibrant and beautiful with power and love and sacrifice.
His face softens, and he pulls her more tightly against him. “I’ve always been ready.”
Title: your memories are loud
Rating: PG
Summary: Mako comes home to a quiet apartment.
Author's Notes: There was a discussion on tumblr about Korra shaving Mako's stubble/beard, so that is in here.
He fumbles his way into the apartment in the mute light of early dawn, and everything's so still and silent and perfect that it's almost harsh against his senses. In his head, he can still hear gunshots, the whir of metal cables flying through the air, and loud sirens. The cool summer wind tearing at his uniform as he chased after three getaway cars on his motorbike. The terrifying shudder of his heart as one of the criminals' bullets nearly grazed his ear.
But inside his and Korra's apartment, it's quiet and cool, and it's like being touched by her healing water. The tension still hangs in his bones, but he feels better.
It always surprises him to find Korra awake early in the morning, but it's especially odd to see her up before the sun has even completely broken the horizon. But here she is, sitting in the middle of their bed in her underwear, eyes closed and back ramrod straight. She must be meditating, he thinks, which is a somewhat new practice for her - normally she's jittering her way through Tenzin's mandatory sessions, eager to get her blood pumping again. She could be a statue now, as cold and hard as the stone of her predecessor that overlooks the city.
When he steps in, it's like she senses his presence. Bright blue eyes peer at him in the dim light, and she smiles. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Mako says. "I don't think I've ever heard you say those words before."
She laughs softly, stretching like a cat, and climbs off the bed. "I couldn't sleep. Tenzin says this can help." His fingers graze her elbows as she moves into the space he opened up for her, reaching out for her even before she got up. She tilts her chin up to receive his kiss and even her lips feel cool against his, another soothing balm that dwindles the noisy memories in his head. A moment later, though, she pulls away with a small, displeased sound. "Beard's starting to come in." Her hands rasp against the hair growing along his jaw and chin.
"I guess I haven't shaved in a few days," he says, leaning unconsciously into her touch.
"Well, if you're coming back to bed with me, we should take care of that." Korra grabs him by the lapels and drags him to the bathroom like it's the most normal thing in the world to give your boyfriend a shave at 5 am. Mako's too tired to put up any resistance, and they see one another so rarely these days that he'll take whatever time he can get with her.
In the mirror, his face is pale and angular, eyes made sunken into his cheeks by the dark circles under them. The beard spreads across his jaw like tiny drops of ink, prominent against his light skin. He tilts his chin up slightly and runs his hand over it, feeling the way it scrapes against his fingers. He looks older. It's possibly the first time his physical appearance reflects the rapid rate at which he's been maturing since he was eight years old. People always tell him he looks so young.
"You don't like it?" he asks, glancing at her with a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.
"It doesn't work," Korra replies, matter-of-fact, as she hops up onto the sink in front of him. She rests her knees on either side of his hips, keeping him close, bare toes brushing the fabric of his pants. "You don't need to be hiding that chiseled jaw behind any hair."
He smirks. "You just don't like the way it feels when I kiss you."
"Nope." She pops the 'p', spreading sweet-smelling cream along the beard line. She lifts the razor after wetting it and it slides smoothly over his skin, the sound of it soft in his ears. He closes his eyes and lets his mind absorb the sound, staying in the moment. In this quiet, he feels like he could almost go to sleep just standing there. But Korra's voice breaks his stupor.
"You look like you've had a hard night." The razor makes a slow, meandering path along the underside of his chin. He shrugs a little, and she frowns. "Mako, I do listen to the radio."
He sets his jaw as a blob of white cream drips off onto the floor between them. "It was fine. Two of them got away, but we caught..."
"Shin," Korra finishes quietly. "That's his name, right?" Mako nods stiffly, and she reaches up to wipe some of the hair and cream away from his face. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he replies, taking a deep breath through his nose. And he is, he's fine, really fine. He and Shin were never particularly close, even when they were working together as scrawny teenagers in the grimy underbelly of the city. Having Shin shoot a bullet right past his head had been something of a surprise, but he'd still missed. He never was much of a good shot.
"I know you and Bolin were..." Korra hesitates, not wanting to use the word 'friends'. "Acquainted with him," she says finally. "Bolin was over here earlier, when we were listening to the report."
Mako nods. "We used to work together." Stay away from the part of town, you're more likely to get pickpocketed or worse on the other side of the railroad. Keep to this side, stay together, blend in with the crowd. Part of your job is going by unnoticed. And here, see those restaurants up there? The ones at the end of the street always have food in the garbage at the end of the night. Sometimes you can get almost a whole plate of noodles. And that's some of the best quality food Republic City has to offer! He sees Bolin in his mind, still short at twelve, struggling to keep up with the larger strides of the older boys.
“It wasn’t hard?” Korra asks. “You know, having to arrest him.”
It wasn’t hard fighting Shin, because they had been taught the same moves and his were all too easy to predict. It wasn’t even hard to clap the handcuffs around his wrists and keep eye contact while he told him his rights. It wasn’t hard to push him into the truck afterwards to let him be taken downtown. But there is still something that rankles, something that weighs him down and prevents the memories from sliding down into the dark, silent water of his head, something that forces them to float on the surface and swell together like a maelstrom.
What this city must be coming to if fuckers like us are suddenly allowed to become cops, huh?
Spoken with a token crooked grin and a tip of his hat. The animosity that had fired the gun at Mako’s head moments earlier had disappeared entirely.
The comment stung like a dragon-wasp and buried deep, splintering his skin, injecting the memories into his blood.
Cold night, huh? Here, have a cig. No, it’s on me. Look, if you and your brother need a place to stay, I can hook you up. I know you think you’re alone out here, but you’re Triad now. We ain’t nothin’ if we don’t look after our own. You got a good memory? I’ll tell you where to go. Just tell ‘em I sent ya and they’ll let you kip in, as long as you don’t mind doing a little dirty work. It gets ya outta the cold, at least. Think about it, Mako - you keep him out on the street in weather like this much longer, he ain’t gonna last.
Mako shakes his head, and the memories become jumbled.
Fuckers like us
--like family, we look after our own -
Korra lifts a soft towel to his face, wiping away the rest of the water and cream, and he comes back to himself, allows her to draw him back into the present with the pull of her sea-blue eyes. He clears his throat, touching the newly softened line of his jaw for a moment as she watches him.
“Do you ever think,” he starts, “do you ever think that Beifong only let me become a cop because of you?”
She looks utterly perplexed. “What in the spirits’ name gave you that idea?”
“I’ve got a criminal record. It’s not the sort of thing that’s overlooked when it comes to other candidates, is it?”
“Sure, but did other candidates help this city get rid of Amon and the Equalists?” Korra asks, lifting her hands to his face. “You don’t think that might have been just a little redeeming?”
He shakes his head. “I hardly did anything, you-“
“I wouldn’t have even had the strength to face him without you,” she interrupts, sliding off the sink and dropping the razor on the counter. “So don’t even try to tell me that you did nothing.”
They’re quiet as they walk to the bedroom and slide under the cool sheets, bodies automatically gravitating towards one another even though he can still feel the slight tension in Korra’s body, the way she slightly closes herself off to him when she’s annoyed. He presses his mouth against her shoulder, a quiet apology, and after a moment, she seems to accept.
“You passed those tests on your own, Mako. You passed the same ones as everyone else. Beifong thought you were good enough to give a second chance. I don’t think you should beat yourself up any more than you already do over your past.”
He nods a bit, turning her words over in his head, and after a moment mutters against her skin, “They used to tell us in the Triads that once you joined you could never go back. Men moved on, children grew up, but some part of them was always Triad. They were…like family, for Bolin and me. Without them, we might not have made it out there. Shin was a few years older than me, but he treated us like equals. Like brothers.”
Korra twists her head on the pillow so that her nose bumps against his. “They taught you how to steal and deceive and hurt people. You think that’s what brothers do?”
He frowns. “I…”
“What you did for Bolin -got him off the street, gave him hope for a better life, kept him fed and clothed-that’s what brothers do. Bolin’s your family, Mako. He’s all you’ve got.”
Listen, kid, at the end of the day, it’s every man for himself, got it? Somethin’ goes wrong, we get busted by the cops, you have to look after yourself. Don’t expect anyone to stay behind and tell you what to do. You ain’t smart, you’ll get yourself killed. You wanna protect that little brother of yours, right? You gotta be smart. You listen to me, and you’ll be fine.
Mako lets out a breath, and with it he exhales the memory of Shin’s voice, coming to him from dirty alleyways and abandoned warehouses and junkyards. When he breathes in again, it’s the clean scent of Korra’s hair and the warmth of her body and the light that fills her eyes when he kisses her. As she pulls him over her on the bed, the flood calms, recedes, and washes away, leaving only the rich desert of her skin.