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Asami's fingers traced the rim of the champagne flute absently. She didn't even like champagne — too sweet, too performative — but holding it gave her hands something to do besides clench into fists every time another 'visionary entrepreneur' with a half-baked excuse of an idea stared at her chest.
Opal appeared at her elbow like a minor miracle, slouching against the bar in a way that would've made her etiquette coach faint. "Tell me you've got an escape plan," she muttered, plucking an olive from a passing tray with more force than necessary.
Asami felt the edges of her lips curling up ever so slightly. "I was thinking the fire alarm." She tilted her flute just enough for the champagne to kiss the rim without spilling, watching the bubbles swarm.
Opal hummed. "I like it, very high-schoolish of you, Miss Sato." She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We could run to those fire scape stairs and steal the chopper on the roof."
Asami snorted, swirling the champagne lazily. "And abandon our delightful company? Perish the thought." She caught Opal's eye roll just as a waiter passed them, the clink of silverware muffling their laughter.
The chuckle died in Opal's throat when she spotted another corporate shark, tie too tight, smile too wide cutting through the crowd toward them. Asami's spine straightened on instinct, her fingers tightening imperceptibly around the flute.
"Ah, Miss Sato," the man purred, extending a hand already sweating through his cufflinks. "Your proposal on the infrastructure bid was... ambitious." His gaze flickered to Opal, dismissive. "And you are?"
Opal's smile could've frozen hell over. "Her better half tonight."
Asami felt her eyes rolling before she took notice of the action herself as she smoothly inserted herself between them. "Miss Beifong is Future Industries' CFO, and one of the brains behind our project." One of her brows arched, contemptuous enough to falter the man's smile for just a second. "And you are?"
His laugh was brittle, a poor cover for the irritation tightening his jaw. "Ah, of course — forgive me. Lai Chen, with—"
"—Chen Holdings," Asami finished, slow-blinking like a cat who'd spotted prey. "Yes, we're familiar with the tax evasions scandals of your Ember Island's resorts."
Opal coughed violently into her fist, shoulders shaking as Lai Chen's face turned burning red. He cleared his throat, muttered something that sounded like 'excuse me,' and practically fled through the crowd.
The moment his back disappeared, Opal doubled over with laughter, clutching her stomach. "You absolute menace!" she wheezed, wiping at her eyes.
Asami smirked and drained the last of her champagne, the bubbles stinging her throat pleasantly. "I'll be right back," she murmured, setting the flute down with a clink and slipping away before Opal could say anything.
The bathroom was pleasantly silent, only the muffled sounds of conversations from the party. Asami leaned against the sink, exhaling sharply—only for her phone to buzz inside her purse. Korra's name flashed on the screen, that familiar rush of warmth flooding her chest.
Then she opened the text message. And the heat immediately licked up her neck, her fingers nearly fumbling the phone as her brain short-circuited at the photo Korra had sent her.
There was no caption. No context.
Just Korra leaning against their home gym mirror with sweat still gleaming on her collarbones, the fluorescent lights catching every defined ridge of her abs. Her sports bra clung damply to her skin, showing off the familiar faint scar across her ribs — the same one Asami had traced with her tongue just three nights ago.
Korra smirked at the camera, one eyebrow cocked knowingly, like she could already see Asami's pulse jumping in her throat.
Asami swallowed hard, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. The bathroom's cool air suddenly felt stifling, her dress too tight across her shoulders, her skin too warm. Behind her, the party clamored on, but all she could hear was the phantom whisper of Korra's breath against her ear, the memory of teeth grazing her jaw.
She stumbled back toward the toilet, sinking onto the closed lid with thighs that felt suspiciously weak. The porcelain was cool through the thin fabric of her dress, a sharp contrast to the way her pulse throbbed between her legs.
Her fingers hesitated before typing a response:
You're evil
The three dots appeared immediately. Korra was typing. Asami bit her lip hard enough to sting.
The dots morphed into words:
i really don't know what you mean
Followed by another photo — this time Korra’s fingers were hooked under the waistband of her gym shorts, revealing a sliver of that sharp V-cut that never failed to drive Asami mad.
The bathroom door clicked shut, the lock engaging before Asami's mind even fully registered her own hand sliding the bolt across. Some distant, rational part of her knew this was stupid — that someone could very well notice her absence, and that Opal would absolutely roast her later — but the thought of Korra’s teeth on her neck was enough to short-circuit higher reasoning.
The marble sink pressed cold against Asami’s lower back as she slid down slightly, the hem of her dress riding up just enough to feel the chill. With deliberate slowness, she dragged the slit higher, the fabric whispering against her thigh until the delicate black lace of her underwear peeked through. It wasn't enough to give everything away, but enough to make Korra’s next breath hitch.
Her phone buzzed within seconds, but she didn’t look—not yet. Instead, she let her fingers trail up her own thigh, imagining it was Korra’s calloused hands instead, the ones that knew exactly how to make her shudder.
The screen lit up with Korra’s reply:
fuck sami, you’re killing me here
The desperation, even through a simple text message, felt raw, and Asami’s stomach clenched at the thought of Korra’s expression.
She was about to hike her dress higher, to tease Korra with something truly indecent, when a sharp rap at the door made her jump. “Occupied?” a woman’s voice called, bored and impatient. Asami’s throat went dry.
“One second,” she managed, scrambling to adjust her dress, fingers shaking from adrenaline — or maybe frustration, she couldn’t tell. But the one thing she was certain of was that she was done. Done with this party, this pretense, these greedy hands and hungry eyes.
What she wanted was Korra’s mouth, Korra’s hands, Korra’s teeth against her bare skin. Opal could handle the rest by herself surely, and maybe even forgive her for abandoning ship.
The thought barely registered before she unlocked the door, breezing past the startled woman with a murmur of apology.
She moved through the crowd like a ghost, all sleek lines and silent steps, her fingers already digging into her clutch for cash. The valet stand was still swamped with guests and Asami didn’t even slow down as she passed, just flagged the first taxi idling at the curb. Opal would need a way back to the hotel by herself anyway.
“The Four Elements,” she said, sliding across the leather seats without waiting for confirmation. The driver barely had time to nod before she tossed a fifty over the partition. “Make it fast.”
Her phone buzzed again, twice in quick succession, and Asami didn’t even try to suppress the shudder when she opened them.
The first photo showed Korra’s biceps flexing, veins standing stark against golden skin, showing off every ridge and swell of muscle. The second was even worse with a close-up of her throat, head tilted back to expose the tendons straining as she swallowed.
Asami’s thighs clenched involuntarily, the ache between them sharp enough to make her shift against the taxi’s seat. She could practically taste the salt on Korra’s skin, the way her muscles would ripple under Asami’s nails when she—
"Miss?" The driver's voice cut through the haze. "We're here."
Asami blinked, disoriented, before realizing the taxi had stopped. She barely remembered to grab her purse before shoving the door open, heels clicking against pavement with impatient urgency.
The hotel lobby blurred past her, the gold-leafed mirrors, the startled concierge. Her fingers already dialing Korra’s number as she punched the elevator button. The line connected instantly, Korra’s breathless laugh crackling through the speaker before Asami could speak a word.
“You at the hotel already?" Korra's voice curled through the phone, rough with amusement — and something darker, smokier.
Asami exhaled sharply, pressing the elevator button harder than necessary. "You did that on purpose," she rasped back, referring to the first picture Korra had sent her, the one that had left her skin too tight, her pulse uneven, and that started this.
The elevator doors slid open with agonizing slowness.
Korra's laugh was low and deliberate, the sound of her shifting — sheets rustling, maybe? — sending a lick of heat down Asami's spine. "Are you complaining?" she purred, and Asami could practically see the way her teeth dragged over her lower lip, could imagine the smirk curving her mouth.
The elevator dinged, doors sliding open, and Asami pressed the phone harder against her ear, thinking hopelessly that maybe she could crawl through the line and into Korra’s lap.
"I could be," she murmured, just to hear Korra’s breath hitch, "If you’re not planning to make up for it." The challenge hung between them, thick as the tension coiling in Asami’s stomach.
Korra hummed as she considered, a sound Asami knew intimately, the same one she made right before she pounced. "Depends," she murmured, voice dropping into that gravelly register that had ruined Asami’s composure more times than she could count. "You still wearing that dress?"
Asami’s breath caught, her keycard almost slipping from her fingers as she fumbled for her room door. The memory of Korra’s hands on her dress, wrinkling the fabric, hiking it up her thighs flashed behind her eyelids, and for a dizzying second, she forgot how to form words.
“And if I am?" Asami challenged, voice dropping into dangerously low while she finally swiped the keycard, the lock clicking open with a soft snick. "What would you do?"
Korra’s exhale crackled through the speaker, ragged and uneven, and Asami wondered for a second if she was touching herself already. "First," she growled, the word scraping raw against Asami’s nerves, "I’d peel it off you slow."
The image burned itself behind Asami’s eyelids, Korra’s fingers hooked under the silk, dragging it down over her shoulders while her mouth followed, marking her skin.
The hotel door swung open too loudly. "And then?" Asami pressed, kicking the door shut behind her with her heel, the latch catching with finality.
"Then I’d make you wait," she murmured, dragging the syllables out like fingers tracing skin—slow, deliberate. "Tease you slow, right where you'd need me the most, until you begged."
Asami’s knees hit the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight as she sank down. The silk of her dress whispered against her thighs, suddenly unbearable. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would," Korra purred, and Asami could hear the grin in her voice, the predatory edge that always made her stomach twist. "First, I'd spread you out on that stupidly expensive hotel bed—"
Asami's breath hitched at the mental image, her fingers twitching against the silk sheets. Korra's voice dropped lower, rougher, the mental image clear enough to see the way her hands would pin Asami's wrists, the deliberate drag of her teeth down the inside of her thigh, the way she'd pause just to feel Asami shudder beneath her.
"And you'd let me," Korra finished, triumphant, because she was right, Asami already had let her a hundred times before.
The silence crackled between them, heavy with unsaid things. Asami could hear the faint rustle of fabric, Korra shifting again—imagined her biting her lip, fingers tracing lazy circles where Asami ached most.
"Yes" Asami exhaled sharply. The admission hung between them, charged and dangerous, and Korra’s answering groan vibrated through the phone like a physical touch.
Asami’s free hand slid up her thigh, fingertips brushing the already ruined lace clinging to her skin. She teased herself with the slighest pressure, imagining it was Korra’s mouth instead. The whimper that escaped her lips was involuntary, embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, and she could practically feel Korra’s smirk through the phone.
"Tell me," Korra demanded, voice rough with want.
Her fingers finally dipped beneath the lace, and her entire body arched off the bed at the first slow drag against her clit. The moan that tore from her throat was raw and unfiltered, and Korra’s answering growl sent another bolt of heat straight to her core.
"Fuck, keep going," Korra rasped, the words barely audible over the wet sounds of her own fingers working — and that was all it took for Asami to completely unravel.
Her hips jerked against her own hand, chasing the friction shamelessly now, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She could hear Korra’s choked moans mirroring her own, the slick, frantic rhythm of skin on skin filling the silence between them.
"You sound so fucking good," Korra gasped, voice strained like she was holding back, or maybe losing control, her breath hitching between words.
Asami bit down on her lip hard enough to bruise, her fingers circling faster, the pressure just shy of unbearable. "Korra— fuck— Need you." The words tumbled out broken and desperate, her hips arching off the bed as she chased the edge without crossing it.
"Tell me," Korra panted back, her voice fraying at the edges. The wet slide of her own fingers was audible now, punctuated by low, bitten-off groans. "Tell me how you want me."
"Everywhere," she breathed, dragging the word out until it dissolved into a gasp as she imagined Korra’s weight pinning her down. "Your mouth first, then your hands."
Korra’s answering moan was rough, almost pained. "God, you drive me insane," she muttered, but the slick sounds speeding up betrayed her.
Asami laughed breathlessly, her fingers slowing just to feel Korra’s frustrated groan vibrate through the phone. "You started this," she teased, the last word dissolving into a soft moan as her thumb pressed in just the right spot, making her hips jerk.
There was a thud — Korra probably dropping her phone — and then her ragged breathing filled the line again. "Say my name again," she demanded, voice wrecked.
The mattress shifted under Asami as she arched into her own touch, Korra’s name spilling from her lips like a prayer. The line crackled with Korra’s ragged breathing and the filthy wet sounds between them, neither willing to slow down now.
"Again," Korra breathed out, her own voice failing as the word dragged out, and of course Asami obeyed, gasping her name like it was the only word she knew as her fingers worked faster.
The pillow under Asami's head was damp with sweat now, her thighs trembling, her toes curling against the sheets. All while Korra's moans were ragged in her ear, though not enough to fully draw out the slap of skin against skin through the phone line, faster now, desperate.
"Close," Asami managed, her own fingers circling hard, her breath coming in shallow bursts, and Korra could only moan in agreement.
Though she tried speaking either way. "Yeah?" Korra rasped, her voice breaking halfway, and Asami barely had time to nod, not thinking enough to give a shit that Korra couldn't see it, before she was tumbling over the edge, Korra's name dissolving into something incoherent and wrecked as pleasure crashed through her in waves.
Korra followed a choked breath later — her own moan low and shattered—and the phone slipped from Asami's limp fingers onto the bedspread, still crackling with the aftermath of their ragged breathing.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the slow return of their senses, and the repeated attempts at catching their breaths.
Eventually, when Asami could breathe again, she dragged the phone back to her ear, Korra's exhale ghosting through the receiver, and neither spoke. No words felt right, not now, not when their bodies were still humming with it, when the silence said everything they couldn't.
The line stayed open anyway, Korra's soft, steady breaths were a distant comfort, and Asami let her eyes drift shut for just a moment, exhaustion and satisfaction curling around her.
A chuckle cut through the silence then, Korra’s amusement unmistakable despite the rasp of her voice.
Asami frowned, rolling onto her side, the silk sheets sticking to her skin. "What?" she mumbled, already bracing for the teasing.
"You," Korra huffed, disbelief thick in her voice, "did you seriously just ditch one of those super fancy dinner— like, mid-conversation with some rich folks because I sent you a gym selfie?"
Asami flushed, suddenly grateful Korra couldn’t see her face. "It was a very good selfie," she muttered, but Korra's laughter only deepened, warm and delighted, and Asami couldn't help but smile into the phone. "Fuck you."
"Oh, I sure hope you do, Miss Sato," Korra murmured, voice still rough around the edges. The sheets rustled on her end, lazy and satisfied. "Worth every damn bullshit excuse Opal has to make for you."
Asami groaned into the crook of ber elbow then, "Don’t remind me. She's never letting me live this down." And Korra only laughed more, the sound curling warm down Asami's spine, despite the impending doom of Opal's inevitable teasing.
She traced idle patterns on her still-flushed skin, listening to Korra’s breathing even out. "You better make it worth it when I get back," Asami murmured.
"Promise," Korra said, voice already thick with sleep. The rustling of sheets filled the silence, probably from Korra rolling onto her stomach, that way she always did when she was drowsy.
Asami’s fingers tightened around her phone, torn between wanting to hang up so Korra could rest and simply not wanting to be away from her. The city lights bled through the curtains, painting stripes across her bare legs where the dress had ridden up. She should move, clean up, text Opal some half-assed excuse, but her limbs felt jelly.
Korra’s soft snore crackled through the phone, and Asami smiled, pressing the device closer to her ear like it could bridge the miles between them.
"Miss you," she whispered — too quiet for Korra to hear, but the words curled warm in her chest anyway.
She couldn't wait to be home.