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It’s the little gestures that get to Korra the most.
She loves Asami’s passionate embraces, her deep kisses, the feverish intensity of her touches. They sweep her away in a matter of seconds and leave her gasping with ecstasy. But the small things… the tiny quirks that make Asami,
Asami
... those mean so much more than Korra can say.
Korra loves the way Asami pulls her loose hair back into a sloppy bun before she uses her mouth. She loves the hungry look in Asami’s eyes as she ties it off, like she’s saying:
This is about to get messy, and I don’t want anything in between me and you.
And it’s not that Korra doesn’t appreciate the talents of Asami’s mouth. Oh Spirits, she does. The way Asami’s tongue moves is positively wicked, and she always seems to know just where to focus, how much speed and pressure to use. Then there’s the heat. That maddening heat. Sometimes Korra wishes she could stay within the warm seal of Asami’s lips forever.
But she also appreciates the subtle signs of affection Asami always gives her. She’s come to adore the way Asami always places a kiss on top of her mound first—not in a particularly sensitive spot, but in a way that communicates her intentions:
I love you, Korra, and I’m going to make you feel so good.
That matters. It matters because, for three long and lonely years, Korra had forgotten that she was loved, even though part of her brain knew otherwise. Now, the reminders heal her a little more each time they’re given.
There’s also the care Asami takes to read her body language. She starts with broad licks, bottom to top, feeling out how sensitive Korra is before focusing in any one place or starting a deliberate pattern. She always pauses to scatter kisses over Korra’s sticky thighs, drawing out the anticipation. But it isn’t just to tease. It’s also sweet, like Asami is reminding Korra how happy she is to be doing this. More importantly, to be doing this with her.
That’s when Korra clutches the back of Asami’s head and urges her onward, rocking her hips and spreading her legs wider until Asami’s tongue moves down to thrust within her. She needs Asami against her, inside her, everywhere at once. And Asami gives her what she needs, sometimes even before Korra realizes what that is. Yet another small thing that makes Korra’s heart burst when she thinks about what Asami is trying to say:
I know your body, know you, better than you know yourself. I see the beauty in you even when you can’t.
Korra can never hold out for long against Asami’s mouth, especially when it leaves her pulsing entrance to wrap around her clit. She tries her best, but it’s never enough. She might be able to handle skill, but familiarity? Tenderness? For that, she has no defenses. But she doesn’t need them, because Asami is always there to tether her when the waves wash through her, to be her anchor as each one breaks over her trembling body. Asami is her undoing, but what a beautiful relief it is to be undone.
As always, when it’s over, Korra releases one final groan and flops onto her back. For all her endurance on the battlefield, one orgasm from Asami can exhaust her if it’s strong enough—and it almost always is. That’s when Asami says goodbye with one more kiss to Korra’s twitching clit and crawls up along her body for a new kiss hello, glazed lips curved into a satisfied smirk.
But that smugness is never present when Asami kisses her, sharing Korra’s taste between their mouths. What’s there instead is much better: affection, offered so often it has become habitual, but no less special for its frequency. Korra, as she often does after moments like this, wraps her arm around Asami’s waist, rolling them over so she can take her turn on top. There are a lot of things she doesn’t know, but of this she’s absolutely sure: some things are so beautiful that they never become boring, no matter how many times you experience them.
