Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Asami’s late. Again.

She knew that taking over Future Industries was going to cut into her social life—it had even before she’d even become CEO—but this time… well, it's not the best first impression she'd like to give.

Tonight, Opal is introducing Asami and the others to one of her childhood friends. Her name is Korra and she's moving to the city from Nome, Alaska, a small town where she’d lived her entire life. Opal knows her through councilman Tenzin—a family friend—from the holiday parties he’d hosted in the past where the two of them used to sneak off with bottles of stolen spirits. Asami remembers this because Opal’s been gushing about her for quite some time now. Asami also knows that Korra was Opal’s first kiss, “for practice,” and once upon a time Opal sort of had a crush on her. So sure, maybe Asami checked out (stalked) her social media pages to try and figure out what all the fuss is about because Asami thought she was a good friend to Opal, so what did this girl—who Opal hasn’t seen in years—have that Asami didn’t? 

Muscles, for one.

Not that Asami’s impressed or anything.

It's around nine o’clock when she sees the bar come into view. She'd walked since it isn't particularly far from the office and because it happens to be a nice night—a hot summer day that had cooled once the sky got dark and the moon high—and not because she’s stalling or anything of the sort. She hadn't had the chance to change out of what she'd worn to work that day, a maroon pantsuit, the jacket unbuttoned, with a black lace bodice underneath, and louboutin heels. Definitely not appropriate dive bar attire, but she’s a professional. 

Except, she’d put her glasses on—the ones she dreaded because they made her look too much like her father—hoping that the lack of eye strain would alleviate her headache. So far, it hasn’t.

She massages her temple, dreading the thought of having to push her way through loud, sweaty patrons to find her friends though as she approaches it seems they've saved her the effort. On the curb outside of the bar stands Opal, Bolin, Mako, and this Korra. They're laughing. A cloud of smoke dances above their heads as they pass a joint amongst themselves.

Opal seems caught up in her friend. She's wrapped around one of Korra’s arms, giggling into her neck while Bolin gestures wildly, telling some grossly exaggerated tale, Asami's sure. Mako relaxes when he smokes, but he also starts to get contemplative and all it takes is one hit too many and he can spiral into full blown paranoia. He's not paying attention to his brother—or anyone for that matter—and is instead staring deeply into the neon lights of the bar sign. 

Despite it all, Bolin spots her first and throws up an enthusiastic hand in a wave. “Ah, Salami!” he calls out and Asami groans. Now wasn't the time for that.

His outburst causes Korra to turn and the motion pulls Opal with her. Mako does the same though much, much slower. Asami is pointedly not looking in Korra’s direction and instead focuses on Bolin. “Sorry I'm late,” she apologizes. “Busy day.” She gestures as she finishes her vague excuse. It’s not a lie. It just isn't necessary to jump into a detailed explanation of her work stresses to her inebriated friends. She squeezes Mako’s arm in greeting as she stops next to him. He smiles at her.

“Hi,” Korra says cooly, though a bit tentatively. Her voice has some gravel to it. Asami is not affected by it.

She raises an eyebrow at Korra, still not quite facing her. Opal looks between the two of them with a wide smile on her face. “‘Sami,” she says, “this is Korra.” Then, “Kor, this is Asami.” 

Korra holds the hand out that isn't commandeered by Opal, offering it for Asami to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,” Korra says. 

“You too,” Asami says, grasping her hand. She quickly runs her eyes up Korra’s body, taking her in. She's in a pair of beat up shoes and loose, wide legged jeans rolled at the bottom, a ribbed tank top cropped just enough to show a sliver of toned, tanned skin above the denim waste of her pants. An oversized blue button up hangs over her wide shoulders. The sleeves are pushed up to her elbows. Asami blinks. “Opal’s told me a lot about you.” She pulls her hand back and places them both in the pockets of her pants.

Opal holds a finger to her mouth. “Shh,” she says. “It’ll go to her head.”

Korra rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “No it won’t,” she assures Asami and then, “She’s told me a lot about you too.”

Asami clicks her tongue. “I bet,” she responds. She turns to the rest of the group. “Where to next? I assume you’re done here.” She gestures to strong smelling smoke floating above them.

Mako offers the joint to Korra who holds a hand up and gives him a polite smile. “No thanks,” she says. 

He holds it out to Asami next. “I need a few drinks first,” she tells him. 

He nods, seriously. “We better start drinking then.” Asami is amused—he’s usually such a stick in the mud, though she loves him anyway. It’s nice to see him loose like this.

“The U.R.?” Asami offers. 

“Ooh,” Bolin says and pushes Mako the way brothers do, nearly knocking the man over. Korra’s the one who catches him and once he’s righted, Asami notices the red of his cheeks. She narrows her eyes.

“What’s ‘The U.R.’?” Korra asks and out of the corner of her eye, Asami realizes she’s asking her. Instead of answering, Asami begins to lead the way.

Opal does it for her. “The Upper Ring. It’s a club on the ritzy side of town,” she explains. “ Asami’s stomping ground.”

Korra glances down at her outfit, then to Asami’s. “I don’t think I’m really dressed for that.”

“You’re fine. Asami takes us there all the time,” Opal reassures her.

Bolin jumps in as well, “Yeah, Korra, you look hot!”

Korra lets out a deep chuckle. Asami feels that warm tingle in the pit of her stomach. She runs a hand down the high waist of her pants, smoothing out the non-existing wrinkles, hoping to stave off the feeling.

“Thanks, Bolin,” Korra says smoothly and fuck the heat is liquid now and it’s traveling further south. Asami needs to get a hold of herself. Fast.

***

“So…” Opal says, drawing out the word the moment Asami answers her video call the next morning, “what do you think?”

“Of?” Asami asks as she applies her makeup, feigning ignorance. She's not sure whether or not Opal buys it.

“Korra,” she specifies. 

Asami avoided a hangover so she prefers to not have a headache. She doesn't even pause the motion of drawing her eyeliner when she says, “She seems nice.”

It takes Opal’s prolonged silence for Asami to stop what she's doing. She places her eyeliner pen on the bathroom vanity and turns to her phone. Opal’s lips are pursed, an eyebrow raised. What does she want her to say? That she thought Korra was so fucking gorgeous she could barely speak to her? That as the night went on, Asami couldn't help that her gaze kept finding its way to her thick forearms or that she’d noticed every time her top had ridden up a little too high—enough for Asami to see more than one row of Korra’s abdominal muscles? That when Asami stumbled into her apartment last night she’d immediately kicked off her wet panties and fell into bed with her favorite toy? She shivers at the memory.

If only Asami hadn't been drinking fucking riesling of all things because she thought it would cool her down (it didn't) before she moved onto to rye whiskey sours which had unsobered her enough to forget the cold shoulder she'd meant to give Korra all night in which they'd had a whispered conversation in the low lights of the bar. Nothing that would come back to incriminate Asami—as much as she'd been thinking those kinds of thoughts all night—just simple questions about Korra’s life. She'd learned that she has a dog back home and that she was far too big for city life—an all white Alaskan Malamute named Naga. That Korra swam competitively in high school, but before she could qualify for the Olympics, she'd decided to quit, the stress too much for her. That she moved to Republic City when she’d been offered a job to coach the swim team at the university. That she's happy to be back in Opal’s life. That she missed her. 

Asami had soured at this for some inexplicable reason.

They had moved onto ribbing Opal as she danced with Bolin on the other side of the club, the two of them drunk and goofy, and it must have been a pleasant enough conversation because after her not-quite-satisfying orgasm, she'd fallen asleep scrolling through Korra’s Instagram page—which, did she realize she was posting gym thirst traps or…?

Asami realizes she hasn’t given Opal an answer, her friend still staring at her through the screen expectantly. “She’s cute, Opal, I’m glad she’s back in your life.”

“Right?” Opal says with a blush. “She looks good.”

Asami picks up her eyeliner. She hums and then, “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Opal lets out a laugh in disbelief. “What? A cute smile? Muscles? Women? Asami, I hate to break it to you, but you’re into that sort of thing.”

Asami clears her throat. She won’t be acknowledging that. “People who have a history with your best friend,” she says.

“Pfft,” Opal scoffs. “That’s in the past. Besides, Korra was never into me.”

“Says who?” Asami shoots back. “She said she missed you.”

Opal narrows her eyes. “You two talked?”

“Of course.”

“Huh, didn’t realize that was allowed with the ice princess shtick you were doing.”

Asami sighs and places both hands on the vanity. Then, she sits on the closed top of the toilet, bringing her phone with her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to notice,” she apologizes and then realizes how stupid that sounds. Of course she wanted people to notice—wanted Korra to notice—that was the whole point. She deflates and explains herself, “I was… jealous at the thought of you having another girl-friend, especially one you have a history with. I don’t have many friends—close ones or girl ones. It was childish.”

Opal’s expression turns into a soft smile. “It's not,” she insists. “Korra and I may have a history , but we've still got work to do to even get back to that place. We were kids the last time we saw each other. We’re practically different people.”

“You should really get to know her though,” Opal continues. “She’s great. I think you two would get along. And being new to the city and all, she could use some friends.”

“Okay,” Asami says. “I’ll play nice.”

“You better, you bitch,” Opal responds. She’s teasing. Then, “And besides, I went home with Bolin last night, so you won’t be losing me to Korra anytime soon,” she says so nonchalantly Asami nearly misses the contents of her sentence. 

“Uh… you— what?!” Asami sputters. “Opal—” 

But before Asami can ask a single question Opal is waving at her. “Okay bye, babe, I’lltalktoyoulater,” she rushes, blowing a single kiss at the screen and then Asami’s phone beeps thrice as the call is dropped. She’s left blinking at her reflection in the blackness of her phone screen as it times out and locks.

She shakes her head of any images her brain has conjured, deciding to move past this for now—though if Opal thinks she’s getting away easy she is sorely mistaken. She opens their text chain.

Asami 8:27 a.m.

Fine be that way. we’ll talk later

Ope 8:27 a.m.

😘 

When that seems like the only response Asami is going to get, she locks her phone—willingly this time—and places it next to the sink, trading it for her eye shadow palette and just as she’s picking up her go-to color with the brush, her phone lights up. She picks it up, deciding that the day can wait, that whatever Opal is about to share with her is far better than anything Asami can get up to today, except—

Korra Imak (@korra_lifts) has followed you back

Asami is never drinking again.

***

She plays nice, she supposes. They spend time together—both with their group of friends and without. Korra had been the one to reach out, direct messaging her, inviting her to help her find a birthday present for Opal. She nearly blows her off because how the hell is she supposed to spend an entire day alone with her sober when she’s so furious that this woman makes her feel this way. Furious at Korra’s stupid kindness, her stupid gym selfies and the stupid, horny comments that Asami had spent yesterday’s lunch break reading. It’s a miracle her phone hadn’t shattered in her hand. They meet up outside of Future Industries where she finds Korra staring up in wonder at the impressive skyscraper Asami owns and works in. She’s in a big crew neck and cotton shorts that fall mid-thigh and up until this point Asami had only been privy to Korra’s thick arms and now she has to deal with muscled legs too?

(As if she hasn’t seen Korra wear less since she plasters it all over social media for the world to see).

She wants to hate her. Tries to, except Asami finds herself weak to those ocean blue eyes and Korra is just so effortlessly cool.

It takes about a month but Korra finally seems to catch onto Asami’s game, probably during Opal’s birthday party where Asami makes a point to talk to everyone except Korra, though they catch each other’s gaze more than once across the room. Korra only smirks back at her. Or, a few weeks later when they all have another night out and it’s Asami’s turn to be crossed, smoking in the alleyway next to the bar and then drinking far too many whiskeys on the rocks, when she makes fun of the way Korra talks. To her face.

And all Korra does is look amused and order Asami an ice cold glass of water and the next morning when Asami remembers how awful she’d been she wishes she had drowned herself in it.

Rather than get angry or confront her, Korra dishes it right back and with far more humility than Asami ever has. She isn’t expecting that. So when she confronts Korra and wonders why she hasn’t just put her in her place already or stopped talking to her all together, the other woman has the audacity to look embarrased. She rubs at the back of her head. Her short hair is in a top knot and her fingers run across buzzed hair because she’s recently gotten an undercut and Asami refuses to comment on it.

“I thought I was intense,” Korra explains, “but it turns out you can be just as intense as me.” Then she cracks a smile. “I’ve seemed to have met my match.”

And so it goes—their little game of cat and mouse (everytime Asami thinks she’s the cat, she is proven to be very, very wrong)—for another month or two or three and then one day it feels like everything clicks into place.

When Korra moved to the city at the beginning of the summer, she’d picked up weekend shifts as a lifeguard at one of the outdoor recs. It hadn’t taken long for management to realize she was far more qualified than any of the teenagers they had working there and they’d given Korra a supervisor title and the keys.

The weather’s turned chilly now that it’s the middle of fall. Asami and Korra are walking back from dinner—as friends —when they pass the pool. It’s past closing hours now but Korra gets this mischievous glint and then pulls her keys out, twirling the one Asami knows belongs to the rec. She unlocks the door and pulls Asami through the changing rooms and into the fenced-in pool area. Then she’s suddenly winding the cover off and kicking off her socks and shoes and pulling her shirt over her head and stepping out of her pants and then there’s a splash and Korra’s treading water, smiling up at Asami.

“Korra!” Asami exclaims, completely horrified.

“They haven’t gotten around to draining the pool for the off season yet,” Korra responds like that makes it okay. Asami just gapes at her and Korra laughs. “Come on,” Korra says, egging her friend on. She splashes water her way. Asami backs up, successfully dodging the assault.

“The water’s nice,” Korra tries again and she is so obviously lying through her teeth. It’s forty degrees outside.

“Sure,” Asami deadpans. “That’s because you’re used to the cold.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

She ignores that. “Won’t we get in trouble? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“And I have the keys. We’ll be fine! Now, come on! If you jump in you’ll barely notice the cold.”

Asami scowls but it’s all an act because she’s already untucking her dress shirt and undoing the clasp of her pants and then she’s in her bra and panties and yes, they’re a matching set—which she wore for no particular reason—and she hopes Korra doesn’t think much of it. She’s still treading water, watching her as she peels her tight dress pants off her legs. She’s not doing much to hide it. Half her face is submerged and she’s blowing bubbles through her nose.

“I’m going to kill you,” Asami mutters as she works up the nerve to jump in.

Korra smirks. “Okay,” she says. And before Asami can second guess herself, she closes her eyes and takes one final breath before she launches herself off of the concrete and into the pool and the temperature is such a shock to her system she nearly gasps for air while she’s still under the water.

“Fuck!” Asami breaks the surface quickly. “It’s fucking freezing!”

Korra just shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Asami asks incredulously and smacks a hand down on the water, effectively sending a splash Korra’s way. 

Rolling her eyes, Korra swims closer to her and wraps her arms around her waist, pulling her close to her own body. And yeah, Asami supposes, she does feel warmer. They stay like this until Asami’s teeth start to chatter and Korra swims her to the edge of the pool then lifts her out of the water, placing her on the edge. Korra pulls herself out the same way. She stands and tugs Asami with her, ducking to collect all their clothes while Asami stands shivering, hugging herself.

Now that she’s wet, the outside air that she’d found comfortable previously bites at her skin. Korra nods in the direction of the locker rooms. “Let's get you dried off,” she says and Asami follows obediently, eager to get inside.

Once they’re safe from the elements, Korra sets their clothes on a bench and grabs a fluffy white towel off a rack, placing it around Asami’s shoulders and tugging it tight around her. Asami looks down at her discarded outfit, absolutely dreading the thought of having to pull her tight clothes back over her damp body. Korra must notice her dilemma because she twists a combination, pops the lock, and opens a locker door, rifling around before she pulls out fresh clothes. A hoodie and sweatpants. “Here,” Korra says and sets them down on the bench. “You can change in one of the showers if you’d like.”

But she says that too late because the moment Korra had offered her warm clothes she’d already started stripping out of her soaked undergarments underneath her towel—a routine she’d perfected in junior high when she’d have to change before gym class. Korra averts her eyes when Asami drops her panties and steps into the pants. They’re short, but big around the waist. Her bra comes next and with practiced movements she shrugs into the hoodie and drops the towel once she’s decent. It pools to the ground at her feet.

“Thank you,” Asami says now that she’s thawed out and her brain can conjure thoughts again.

Asami thinks Korra sounds a little breathless when she responds, “Of course,” over her shoulder. She pulls a duffle out of her locker next and tucks Asami’s discarded clothes into it.

Later, after they’ve locked up, Korra walks Asami back to her apartment and passes her the duffle as they stand outside of her building. Asami smiles at her. “I appreciate you taking care of me,” she says.

“Oh,” Korra says. “Yeah, no problem. Thanks for trusting me.”

Asami pulls her into a hug so Korra can’t see her blush. Korra had gotten back into her earlier outfit so she’s damp under Asami’s arms. 

Asami guesses that she had—trusted her. Korra bids her goodnight, throwing a wave over shoulder as she disappears down the street to her own home.

She doesn’t think much of it when she crawls into bed still in the borrowed hoodie. And if she falls asleep with her nose tucked into the neck of it, so be it. She hopes it won’t be missed because she doesn’t plan on returning it anytime soon and when she startles out of a particularly dirty dream the next morning, a sticky wetness between her legs , she comes to the conclusion that Korra’s ruined her life. 

***

There’s hard days too, when Korra’s mental health takes a nosedive. When she dreads leaving the safety of her room or the times she needs to use her cane or even her wheelchair and feels weak, however unreasonable she knows that is. The first time it happens, Asami isn’t expecting it. They hadn’t talked about the darker moments of their lives, so when she doesn’t hear from Korra for nearly an entire week, she panics and drives to Tenzin and Pema’s house. One of their kids answers the door. She looks up at her, eyes wide. 

Asami glances into the house, then back at the little girl. She tries her best to give her a kind smile through her worry. “Is… Korra here?” she asks tentatively. 

She’s still gaping at her when she shifts to shout over her shoulder, “Korrrra! There’s a pretty lady here to see you!”

“Ikki!” someone calls back and it's familiar. “What did I say about answering the door?”

The girl—Ikki retaliates, “She seems nice!”

Korra comes around the corner. “That doesn’t matter,” she scolds and at first Asami doesn’t understand why it looks like Korra’s hobbling until her friend gets closer and Asami realizes she’s leaning her weight on a cane. Once she makes it to the door she stops abruptly, seemingly not expecting Asami to show up at her door.

“Hi,” Asami says softly.

“Hi.”

They stand there staring at each other. Korra looks tired—there’s bags under her eyes and she seems small. She adjusts her grip on her cane. Ikki is watching them watch each other from where she stands between them. She nudges Korra with her tiny elbow. “Aren’t you going to invite her in?” Ikki asks out of the corner of her mouth.

Asami motions behind her to where her car is parked on the curb. “Sorry, I can go. I should have texted ahead,” she apologizes, starting to back up.

Korra lurches forward. “No!” she rushes out. “You came all this way, you should come inside.”

“If you’re sure,” Asami says, feeling quite unsure herself but then Ikki is smiling at her and opening the front door wider.

“She is,” the girl says and then steps out of the way to make room for her. Korra shoots her a smile as Asami moves past her, but it looks pained. She offers the couch and Asami nods, taking a seat. 

Before Korra does the same, she turns to Ikki. “Do you mind if I talk to Asami alone?” 

“No problem. Call me if you need anything!” she says, all grown up like and disappears down the hall and up the stairs. They both watch her go and then Korra sits down, wincing as she goes. She leans the cane against the coffee table in front of them. 

Korra stares at her lap and fiddles with her hands. Asami watches her do so. 

Asami speaks first. “She's sweet,” she says, referring to Ikki.

Korra lets out air through her nose and Asami thinks it sort of sounds like a chuckle. “Yeah,” she says.

Then quietly, Asami asks, “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Korra responds, but she’s still not looking at her. 

“Okay,” is all Asami says.

“It’s an old injury,” Korra clarifies, motioning sort of vaguely to her body. “There was… an accident a few years back.”

Asami cuts in, placing a hesitant hand on Korra’s knee—the one that she bounces anxiously. “You don’t have to tell me,” Asami reassures her.

Korra’s knee stops and she places her thicker hand on top of Asami’s. “I want to,” she says. “I got hurt. Like… really hurt. Spinal injury amongst other things. I couldn’t walk—could barely wiggle a toe—for months. Six,” she specifies, “and even then it was tough. I… had to drop out of Olympic trials.”

Asami remembers that the day they met, Korra had told her she had dropped out voluntarily.

“I felt like a failure. I'd been training for years. My mental health was totally shot…” she continues. “I was in a really dark place and I had no hope that I’d ever get better even with everyone around me telling me the opposite. It took three years for me to recover. Or, enough, I guess. Sometimes,” she motions to the cane, “I have flare ups. Sometimes I go immobile and I need my chair. Sometimes my PTSD is loud and my depression louder.” She shrugs and then leans back into the couch but brings Asami’s hand with her. “I'm in pain more often than not,” she concludes and Asami feels her heart crumble a little at that.

Korra swivels her head, leaning her cheek against the cushion, finally looking at her. “I’m sorry I ghosted.”

“Don’t be,” Asami says. “No one should have to go through that.”

Korra lets out a heavy breath. “I deal with it. I’m glad you know. It’s… a lot. And we—well, I didn’t want to scare you off or like, be an emotional burden.”

“You couldn’t.”

“I’ve got baggage, Asami. There’s no reason to make it your problem.”

“Let me help you carry it,” she says, cracking a small smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”

“I believe it.”

“You better.”

Asami leans back now too. She rests her head on Korra’s shoulder and brings her other hand into the fray to play with her fingers, wanting to feel as connected to her as she can. They both watch the motion. “I lost my mom when I was young.” It’s Asami’s turn to be vulnerable. “She was the best. But there was a break in one night and well… then it was just me and my dad and he was so busy with the company. I started learning how to fix things—small trinkets at first, toys and watches, things like that—but then it was computers and then engines and then entire cars. I was interested in it, sure, I wouldn’t have been doing any of it if I wasn’t, but I wanted to be close to my dad. I thought he was so proud of me,” she spits the last part out. “It was always the plan for me to take over the company, but I was supposed to have time . I was going to go to college, get a degree or two. I wanted to feel like I’d earned it.”

She sighs. “And then my dad got caught in some shady business dealings. There was a whistleblower. And suddenly I’d inherited the building, the company, and the legacy. I was fresh out of high school, the youngest CEO in Republic City history, and left to clean up his mess.”

Korra’s silent for a long moment and then, “It doesn’t feel like ‘sorry’ is enough. But…”

“Yeah...” Then, “I get it, though. I’m… not always okay either. So maybe when things get hard—when we’re feeling not okay, we can feel it together?”

Korra drops her head onto Asami’s and Asami hears her take a deep breath. “I’d like that.” 

***

“Are you sure this is okay?” Asami says as Korra unlocks the front door of Tenzin and Pema’s house. 

Korra laughs. “I live here, Asami,” she reminds her. Korra pushes the door open and extends an arm, inviting her friend to enter before her.

“Sure, but it still feels like we’re doing something wrong,” Asami says as she does so and then the door clicks behind her as Korra closes it and locks it. “You said they didn’t know you were doing it.”

“It’s a surprise, ” Korra stresses. “That’s the whole point.”

“I don’t much like surprises,” Asami declares as Korra steps next to her and she can’t help the shiver that runs through her body when she feels Korra place a hand on the small of her back, nudging her towards the stairs.

“Hmm,” Korra hums with a smile. “I can tell.” Then, “Luckily, Meelo loves them, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

Asami feels herself blush. “Go on up,” Korra tells her. “The paint and supplies are in the garage, I’ll be there in a minute.”

She’s on the first step when she calls out, “Wait.” Korra does. “Don’t you need help?” Asami asks, but the other woman just lifts an amused eyebrow with a smirk as she walks off and apparently that’s her answer.

It couldn’t be more obvious as to where Asami is meant to go when she gets to the top of the stairs. Each door has a handmade name plate hanging from it. Jinora’s is written in practiced cursive, Ikki’s in colorful bubble letters, doodles bordering it. In shaky, rounded letters is Meelo’s and underneath it, a second name plate says, “Rohan” that suspiciously looks like Ikki’s doing. 

And then to Asami’s left is another door. Korra’s. Her name is written neatly on her plaque, but surrounding it are hearts and rainbow stickers and silly drawings. Asami smiles as she runs her hand across it, loving how much the kids love Korra. 

The door is mostly open and Asami can’t help herself. She pushes it all the way and steps into the room. It smells like Korra—the spice and woodsy notes of the incense she knows she likes to burn. Asami closes her eyes and breathes in, intoxicated by the comforting scent. The room is relatively plain, Asami notices. On the side of the room opposite the bed sits a small rack of dumbbells—those thick rubber coated ones—ranging from twenty to forty pounds. There’s a yoga mat rolled up in the corner and her cane sits leaning against the wall next to it. The walls are mostly bare except for polaroids taped next to her bed. She takes a closer look, her fingers grazing the top of the comforter as she goes.

There’s a few pictures of Korra and Naga—an early one where they’re both young and rolling in the deep snow together; Asami assumes it’s probably around the time Korra got her. They’re adorable. Korra’s bundled in the thickest winter jacket Asami’s ever seen, yet her cheeks are rosy from the cold, the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face. There’s another that looks a little more recent where Korra stands on a sled, a gaggle of dogs lined up at the front of it, Naga leading the pack. Korra had mentioned something about dog sledding—mushing, Asami remembers—though she’d never actually competed in anything.

There’s one of a young Korra, maybe three or four, in the arms of a young, attractive couple. Her parents. Korra said once that they had her young—when they were still in their teens. Asami’s seen more recent pictures of the two of them and in the twenty-something years that have passed since this picture has been taken it’s clear that time has been kind to them. Another one of just Korra, even younger than the previous one, toddling around. Asami peels that one off the wall and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans.

Asami sees one of a younger Korra and Opal dressed fancily, standing arm-in-arm in a lavish party hall. The background is a blur of moving bodies.  

Her eyes finally pass over recent ones—ones that Asami remembers taking. Posed ones where the group of them—Asami, Korra, and Opal, or Bolin and Korra, or one with just the brothers—stand with their arms around each other, making each other laugh. And there on the wall, closest to Korra’s pillow, Asami catches a glimpse of herself. 

It's from months ago when Asami and the lot of them had visited Korra on one of her lifeguarding shifts at the outdoor rec. It was a group shot, one that Bolin had insisted they take—a selfie. He’s positioned in front of them, his arm stretched out to capture the picture, though what had ended up showing in frame is just his forehead, Opal behind him, a sweet smile on her face as she holds a peace sign behind her boyfriend’s head. Mako is behind his brother except, because of the angle Bolin had taken it at, he’s barely visible. 

Over Bolin’s other shoulder is Asami. She’s in her favorite black one piece. It has a plunging neckline that ends just above her belly button, where it’s held together by two thin, gold belt accents. It ties around her neck. Her hair is pulled back and her sunglasses are pushed up onto her head so she can smile at the camera as she lounges on a chair. She looks hot and she’d known it.

When Opal had asked her who she was trying to impress, a knowing look on her face, Asami had merely shrugged innocently.

Or—that’s the full picture. What Asami is looking at taped up on Korra’s wall is not that at all. It’s just… her, the picture folded in half to hide the others. 

Asami goes warm.

But before she can think too hard about the implications of this, she hears Korra coming up the stairs, the paint cans clacking together. “Shit,” Asami curses under her breath, embarrassed by the thought of getting caught. She quickly exits Korra’s room and makes sure the door is cracked just the way it had been before she disturbed it. Luckily, Meelo and Rohan’s room is in the same part of the hallway so she doesn’t look suspicious as she meets Korra at the top of the stairs.

When she sees her, she can’t help the laugh that escapes her mouth. “Need any help, Muscles?” she says and leans against the wall to watch her. Korra’s got two paint buckets in one hand and two paint roller frames in the other. Under one of her arms are the paint rollers and under the other seem to be a few of those metal paint tins. 

“Nope,” Korra says as she stops in front of her.

Asami ignores her and steps close, grabbing a paint bucket from Korra’s grasp. Their hands graze as she does so. “You know you don’t have to show off for me,” Asami says and then reaches out and holds Korra’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, playfully shaking it as she teases, “I already know how big and strong you are.”

Korra wrinkles her nose and jerks her head to escape Asami’s grasp. “Whatever,” she says, trying to pout, but she can’t hide her smile or the breathy laugh she lets out. “Come on.” She walks on and Asami follows her into the boys’ room—where she’d totally come from. There’s a tarp on the ground to protect the floors. Korra must have done that earlier, before she’d roped Asami into helping her.

Korra places the supplies on the ground and then turns to her, shrugging off her button up as she goes. She’s in a ratty, oversized t-shirt and beat up, wholy jeans. Appropriate attire for painting. She takes a deep breath as she takes in Asami’s outfit. “That’s… not what you're wearing, is it?”

Asami glances down at herself. She’s in a deep red blouse and high waisted jeans. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asks.

“It looks expensive,” Korra responds, still looking at her clothes.

Asami rolls her eyes. “Well, you didn’t tell me what we’d be getting up to, so I’m sorry that I didn't have the chance to plan accordingly.” They are expensive but she waves her off. “I’m not worried about my clothes.” Not really.

“Uh-huh. Come on,” Korra orders, clearly not believing her, and leads Asami back out into the hallway and through the door of her room. Asami stands in the entryway as Korra rifles around in her drawers. She looks around as if it’s the first time she’s seen it, pointedly avoiding the picture wall hoping not to attract attention to the empty space of the one Asami had stolen. It burns in her pocket.

Korra pulls out a hoodie and offers it to Asami. “At least change your top.”

Asami raises an eyebrow and grasps onto the fabric. “Is that a line?” she asks and the pleasure she gets from the blush that spreads across Korra’s face— God, she was so easy. 

And when Asami thinks Korra is going to sputter and take it back, the way she maybe would have when they were just starting to get to know each other, she reaffirms her hold on the hoodie. “Do you want it to be?” Korra asks, smirking.

It’s Asami’s turn to prattle. “Do I…wha—? Um…” 

Korra laughs big and pushes the hoodie into Asami’s hands. Asami takes a step back at the force, not because Korra was rough with it but because she was completely under her friend’s spell—and also incredibly horny. She’s blinking at her trying to get her eyes to focus when Korra brushes past her and says,  “Get changed so we can get to work. I’d like to have most of it done before the kids get back from school.”

“Mm-Hmm!” Asami squeaks. When the door shuts behind her to give her privacy she unbuttons her shirt and tries to rid her brain of all the other things she and Korra could get up to before anyone else gets home.

***

They’re hours into painting when the first droplet flies and hits Asami on the cheek. “Korra,” she wines. “Careful with where you’re flinging that thing.” She motions the extended paint roller in the other woman’s hands.

Korra winces, pausing her paint application. “Sorry, ‘Sami,” she apologizes and then, “Let’s see the damage.” She places the roller on the safety of the tarp and approaches her friend, grabbing a drop rag as she goes and wiping her hands. Asami watches her every movement. She’d rolled the sleeves of her t-shirt up and over her shoulders which means that Asami’s been distracted—letting her eyes wander as she trimmed around the baseboards and windows.

Then she’s suddenly standing in front of Asami and she raises one hand to her jaw, gently turning her head so she can run her thumb across Asami’s cheek. It takes more than one swipe to clear the paint and even then there’s still a bit of blue streaked across her cheekbone, she’s sure. 

She can feel Korra’s breath against her cheek and then her lips when she turns her head to face her directly. They do nothing but stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. “Crisis averted,” Korra assures so softly that it’s a whisper and Asami nearly stops breathing when she realizes Korra says it directly to her mouth.

It would be so easy to lean forward and capture Korra’s lips in her own and it takes all of Asami’s willpower not to do so, but alas, payback’s a bitch and Asami isn’t going to let this go without a fight. 

The brush in her hand is soiled with paint and she lifts it between their faces, tapping it against Korra’s nose once and then runs it against one of her cheeks. “Oops,” Asami says innocently.

Korra’s mouth falls open in shock. There’s the quickest of seconds when Asami thinks that maybe she made her friend mad but then, “Oh,” Korra says. “It is so on.”

“Korra,” Asami warns. “Don’t.” She tries to come up with an excuse though the only thing she can think to say is, “My hair.” It’s weak and they both know it.

Korra shrugs and then bends down to grab one of the smaller rollers from where it sits in the paint tin. “Should’ve thought about that earlier.” And then she lunges forward and Asami is far too slow and before she knows it the sleeve of her borrowed hoodie as well as her exposed arm are covered in blue.

They’re both giggling and covered in paint once they’ve exhausted themselves, sprawled out on the floor tarp. Both of them are on their backs, their heads angled towards each other. One of Asami’s hands rests on her stomach, the other on the floor between their bodies while Korra’s arms are folded behind her head. 

When their laughter subsides Asami realizes how heavily the two of them are breathing and there must be something wrong with her because that thought alone is enough to make that fire light in the pit of her stomach. She closes her eyes, trying to control herself but it’s not enough—the next breath she takes is shaky. She presses down on her stomach below her belly button to try and subdue the flame except the pressure only makes it worse. She stifles a moan and rubs her thighs together, a completely involuntary act.

Asami is pretty sure she needs the woman next to her more than she needs water and when she turns on her side to face her—to tell her—she opens her mouth and croaks, “Korra,” but that’s as far as she gets because the next thing she knows a whirlwind motion rushes into the room.

“Holy shit!” a little voice exclaims and Asami nearly jumps out of her skin. She shoots up.

“Meelo!” Pema’s voice screeches from the first floor. “Language!” she scolds. 

The boy doesn’t bother to apologize, mesmerized by the new color of his walls. Asami is still holding her chest, trying to get her breathing under control for another reason now. Behind her, Korra laughs heartily from where she still lays. “Where did you learn to talk like that?” Korra asks him.

Meelo turns, furrowing his thick eyebrows at the woman that’s practically his big sister. “Uh… you,” he accuses. 

“Shh!” she says and it’s shaky as she laughs even harder. Asami smiles at the two of them and now that she’s not distracted she hears more footsteps coming up the stairs.

Pema is clearly on her way up here to scold Meelo more but she slows when she gets to the door, glancing at the freshly blue walls. Rohan is in her arms. “Oh.”

Korra pushes herself up onto her elbows. “Surprise,” she sings.

“Mom!” Meelo exclaims as he runs around the room, the tarp crinkling under his feet. “Look what Korra did!”

“I see,” Pema responds. Her eyes find the girls on the floor. “You two painted… more than the walls even.” She mutters the last part. 

Asami is sure she looks ridiculous. She’s sticky with paint and she just knows it’s caked in her hair. The only comfort is knowing that Korra is in the same predicament.

More footsteps stomp up the stairs and then there’s Ikki pushing past her mother. She doesn’t even notice the walls, her gaze focuses on the girls immediately. She tugs on her mother’s sleeve. “Why are Korra and Asami blue?” she asks and it’s Asami’s turn to break into giggles. She falls back against the ground. Korra smiles down at her and then suddenly she’s laughing too and at some point Pema must have put Rohan down because the next thing she knows, he’s climbed his little body into Korra’s lap and then he’s shaking from her laughter too. 

At this moment, Asami decides she doesn’t care how she looks. Here, her entire body covered in bright blue paint, laying in the middle of the floor, is the happiest she thinks she’s ever felt. She turns her head to look at Korra and can’t help but reach out to touch her softly for no particular reason other than to be connected to her and she decides that this woman next to her probably has a lot to do with that.

***

Bolin is starring in a play and on opening night, his leading co-star hosts a party after the curtains close. Her name is Ginger and she's sort of Republic City’s darling ingénue. 

Opal is Bolin’s plus one and Asami is invited due to her status in the city (at least she hopes that’s the case because the other option is less than ideal). She invites Korra along with her. 

Asami wears a dress she'd bought new for the occasion—or specifically for Korra more like because Christ , that girl isn't just a want anymore, but a need , and it's about time she blows Asami’s back out.

So Asami can’t be blamed for the amount of money she’d spent on it, that should all fall on an unsuspecting Korra instead. It’s a slinky burgundy silk number that falls to her feet; her pointed stilettos just peak from the bottom. It’s strapless with a back that ends just under her shoulder blades and a front that dips into a deep u-neck which starts at the middle of her breast—thank God for body tape—and stops an inch or so above her belly button, showing off the top of her toned stomach and the lines of her clavicle. She wears a collection of gold bangle bracelets on one wrist and a matching watch on the other and she supposes she’s isn’t already drawing enough attention to her chest, so she adds a dangly necklace to the fray as well—one that had belonged to her mother—the pendant falling at the center of her sternum. Too much for a night at the theater? She doesn’t much care.

She lets her mind wander as she and Opal get ready for the night, thinking about how easy it would be for Korra to pull the front of her dress down and suck marks across her skin.

And this time, Asami is sure she has the upperhand, there’s no doubt in her mind that she does. Except when she and Opal meet Mako and Korra at the theater, Asami curses herself for being so stupid. Her eyes find Korra embarrassingly quickly amongst the crowd and nearly melts into the concrete when she sees her in a pair of blue-gray tailored, wide legged pants and a matching jacket draped over a white turtleneck. Casual yet sophisticated and so effortlessly sexy. She has a hand in her pocket and the other gesturing as she talks to Mako but when she finds Asami just as quickly in the crowd—after a beat in which her hand drops and the words seem to die on her lips—breaks into a wide grin and well… Asami suddenly doesn’t feel like there’s much of a crowd at all.

“Ladies,” Mako greets them with a nod. “Nice night.”

Asami narrows her eyes, amused by his awkwardness. He’s avoiding eye contact, or avoiding looking at her at all and Asami smirks, remembering the time when she’d reveled in this sort of reaction from Mako. Things have changed. 

Korra moves into Asami’s space as they wait for Opal to retrieve their tickets at the box office. “You look incredible,” she husks.

Asami purses her lips to try and hide her smile. She’s pretty sure she’s failing because she sees Korra break out into her own grin from the corner of her eye.

They find their seats when the lights flicker—their fifteen minute warning, Korra trailing them a few minutes later with a drink for both her and Asami. The two of them sit with her heads together, whispering over the program while they wait for the lights to go out and as much as Asami loves Bolin and is so proud of him, she hopes they never do.

The theater gods must not like her very much.

She excuses herself for the bathroom during intermission and a part of her—the horny part, or maybe the part that loves Korra—wants to grab her arm and drag her along, especially after Korra had shrugged out of her jacket at some point during the first act to reveal that her turtleneck is sleeveless, but Asami’s hands shake as she reaches for her because since when has she loved Korra?

She scurries off alone instead and she wishes the bathroom line isn’t so long, wishes that she was the only one here because she needs to splash water on her face or something, anything to knock some sense into herself because sure, she’d recognized the need to fuck Korra, that had been obvious nearly immediately, and maybe this woman became her best friend—best friends fuck all the time, Asami’s sure of it—but since when had that shifted into this other thing, this thing that’s telling her that she doesn’t want Korra like a best friend, that perhaps, she’d known it all along:

The insistence from Opal that she and Korra would get along if she gave her the chance, the game of cat and mouse—of avoidance—of finally giving in because Korra’s magnetic field was far too strong to ignore any longer.

It suddenly all clicks into place.

Asami doesn’t realize that she’s still sitting in the stall until she hears the swelling music to open the next act. When she exits, she’s one of few stragglers, but it gives her the chance to right herself without too many prying eyes. When she finds her seat in the darkness of the theater guided by the light of the stage, she avoids the worried looks from her friends. Once she sits she can feel Korra’s eyes on her, a silent plea to tell her that she’s okay. Asami reaches over and places a reassuring hand on the soft linen covering her thigh.

Korra threads their fingers together and they stay that way until the curtain call when they pull away to stand and whistle and shout their praises for Bolin as he takes his bows.

They move to the stage door as the theater empties where Bolin meets them and pulls them inside and into his dressing room so they can all make their way to the after party together. Opal greets him with a kiss and once they’ve had their fill of each other Korra moves in for a hug and then Asami and then Mako, who mutters about how proud he is into his brother’s ear. 

Bolin takes his time and it doesn’t bother the rest of them. They laugh and goof off and reenact moments they loved. As one of the leads, Bolin was lucky enough to have his own dressing room, so it’s not like they’re disrupting anyone else—even if their laughter echoes through the old brick hallways. There’s a moment when Asami’s laughter dies down quicker than she meant it to and Korra lightly grazes her arm to get her attention.

She quietly calls her and Asami isn’t sure if the shiver that runs through her body is from the touch or the way her name sounds on Korra’s lips.

“You okay?” she asks. “We can totally blow off this party. I can take you home.”

Before Asami can agree because she’s not quite in the mood and maybe she can convince Korra to come up to her apartment for a night cap, or a chat, or maybe more, Ginger pokes her head through the open door of the dressing room. 

“I’ll see you all in a bit, yeah?” She glances at everyone in the packed room. “Hey, ‘Sami,” she greets, singling her out and yes, Asami thinks, let's definitely skip this party. Except, Ginger bites at her bottom lip as her eyes stutter over the woman next to her, who hadn’t bothered to shrug her jacket back on as they left the theater and Asami’s blood runs cold.

Her and Korra had already been standing close together but Asami feels herself move even closer. She senses Korra’s eyes on her and can imagine the worried furrow of her brow.

“Yes,” Asami says shortly. “We’ll be there.”

Ginger wiggles her fingers in farewell.

When they hear the heavy stage door close, Opal turns to Bolin. “I don’t know how you work with her,” she says.

He shrugs. “She’s fine.” He doesn’t seem to believe the words that leave his mouth. “It helps that she’s less… her when we’re on stage.”

Asami scoffs and they must take it as a dismissal of the subject because they move onto other things and it’s not much longer until they’re on their way.

Opal and Bolin walk hand in hand. He’s dressed handsomely, he and Opal seem to have coordinated their outfits. Mako walks a step behind them so as to not block the walkway, but the three of them are engaged in conversation and Asami and Korra fall back a few paces.

Asami shrinks into herself a bit and Korra must think that she’s cold because the jacket she has hanging from the crook of her elbow is gently placed on her shoulders. It’s warm and Asami thinks she’s commandeered quite a bit of Korra’s wardrobe by now, but the other woman doesn’t seem to care. Asami smiles at her in thanks and they walk side by side for a block or two in silence.

“I didn’t realize you knew her. Bolin’s co-star… um—” 

“Ginger.”

“Right.”

There’s a few more beats. “We went to school together,” Asami says and she’s going to leave it there, except she and Korra had said they’d feel the not-okay things together. “We um… we were friends, I guess. I had a crush on her,” Asami admits. “I had a feeling before that I liked girls, but I knew that I liked boys too, so I thought—I don’t know—that it wouldn’t matter maybe. Except these feelings felt like they did.”

“I didn’t tell her—not at first, at least. But then we started going to these parties and Ginger liked to be the center of attention and I would have done whatever she said so… we’d dance and kiss. For boys. It’s stupid, but I thought that maybe she felt the same way. About me.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Asami shoots her another grateful smile. “We were alone once and I kissed her and she freaked out and then everyone knew I liked girls. It’s not like people were that awful and it was old news pretty fast but…” she shrugs, trailing off.

Korra finishes her thought, “You weren’t ready.”

“No. I… would have liked to have more time to get to know myself,” she admits.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Korra says sincerely. 

“It was a long time ago. We’re adults now. We’re…cordial,” Asami says. Barely.

Korra laughs at that. “Sure seems like it. So… why is it we’re going to this? I mean, if it’s her party.”

Asami threads her arms through one of Korra’s and moves in like she’s going to tell a secret. She smiles mischievously. “Us Republic City elite have to keep up appearances.”

“Right,” she says unconvinced but she doesn’t pull away and that’s how they stay. 

When they get to the building they have to take an elevator up to the penthouse. Asami shrugs Korra’s jacket off and hands it back to her. Korra takes it but doesn't shrug it back on. She drapes it back over her arm. They load on with a few other guests and wander for a few minutes once they exit, taking the offered champagne and saying their polite hellos.

“Asami!” Ginger greets first, sauntering up to the group of them. Her arms are out for a hug and for some reason Asami accepts it. As they pull away, Ginger air kisses each of her cheeks. “I’m happy you could make it.”

No you aren’t, she thinks. “Of course. I appreciate the invite.” No she doesn’t.

But it doesn’t matter what she’s said because Ginger’s attention is already on Korra. “And who’s this?” Asami isn’t sure who Ginger’s asking—the question isn’t directed at anyone in particular.

Bolin answers with a smile. “This is Korra!” 

Ginger just raises a perfectly plucked brow with a pursed lip, raking her eyes across Korra. 

Korra holds out a hand. “I’m Asami’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, as charming as ever. “Congrats on the show, you were fantastic.” Okay so maybe she’s hamming it up a little too much but—

Mako, Bolin, and Opal are all gaping at Asami and Ginger’s hand pauses on its way to grasp Korra’s and then there’s a hand on Asami’s back and Korra is pulling her close and wait… what did she say? The breath leaves Asami’s lungs.

“Oh,” Ginger says. “I didn’t realize ‘Sami was seeing anyone.” Hadn’t heard about it in the press, she means.

Korra smiles. “It's still pretty fresh. Wanted to enjoy it before anyone else caught on.”

“Mm-hmm, that's great,” is Ginger’s response and now that she's lost interest she's ready to move on. “Well, enjoy the party.”

Korra waves as Ginger leaves and Asami isn't sure if she's breathing yet.

“You guys! Congratulations!” Opal exclaims and then shoots a look at Asami that says, I can't believe you kept this from me.

Asami opens her mouth to say something—anything, but nothing comes. 

Bolin holds out his champagne flute. “I think this calls for a toast.”

Korra looks apologetic. “Actually,” she starts and Asami nearly stops her because she's not sure if she wants this cleared up after all. “We aren’t—”

“Bolin!” a voice shouts and it looks like Asami won't have to. A man pushes his way through the crown and ugh, it's Varrick. Asami's eyes had roamed right past his name in the program. Asami isn't sure what possessed business mogul Varrick to write and direct plays, but she hopes for Bolin’s sake that he's better at this theater thing than he is any business dealings. “Bravo!” he says, patting Bolin on the back. 

“Hey,” Korra says to her, ignoring the conversation happening in front of them. “Come with me?” 

Doesn't Korra know Asami would do anything she asked? Asami just nods and follows her as she leads the way towards the corner of the room. There’s a bar set up here and for a second, Asami assumes this is where Korra wants to hang out for the rest of the night except the bartender is busy making a drink and talking to a guest on the other end and as they pass Korra spins to look at her, whistling a tune as she walks backwards. Before Asami can blink, Korra's reached out and nabbed a bottle of champagne that had been chilling on ice.

Asami’s mouth drops open in shock, watching as Korra hides it behind her back. Her footsteps get quicker and once she makes it to a point she spins back around and takes off into a jog. Asami quickens her own steps to catch up, wary of her heels. Korra’s led her to the staircase where a velvet rope stands blocking it and she's smiling the widest Asami thinks she's ever seen all in its charming, crooked glory.

Korra simply unhooks the rope and holds it open for Asami. “M’lady,” she says, gesturing for Asami to ascend the stairs. Asami glances over her shoulder to see if anyone has noticed. Luckily, the mouth of the staircase faces the door where they entered, opposite of the large living and kitchen space the guests have congregated.

“You're going to get me in trouble,” Asami says in a whisper as she passes her then stands on the stairs and waits for Korra to lead the way once again.

“I would never,” Korra says as she reattaches the rope on its loop. She places a hand on Asami’s back—support as she grazes by her—which drags down Asami’s arm as she goes until it makes it to Asami’s own where she tangles their fingers together and gives her a light tug. 

They make their way to the second floor, which is more of a loft really, and find themselves in the open space Ginger’s room. Her bed is massive and it's home to an unrealistic amount of pillows but Korra doesn't seem to be interested in it. Just a few paces past it is a closed door. Korra pulls Asami, gesturing for her to keep her head down as she goes because if one person were to glance up there’s a chance they'd be made.

When they’ve made it to the other side of the room, Korra stops at the door and Asami falls against her back, giggling. Korra holds a finger to her mouth, shushing her, but she seems to be holding in her own laughter. She slowly twists the doorknob and pokes her head in then sidles through the crack. Asami follows.

Now, Asami comes from money yet what she finds herself standing in is the most luxurious bathroom she's ever seen. There's a massive mirror on one side that takes up a majority of the wall, a shower with gold fixtures, glass doors, and white tiling. And then there on the far wall sits a claw-footed tub. 

That seems to be Korra’s destination as she walks slowly, spinning while she goes so she can take the space in. Her mouth is wide in wonder. Asami watches her from where she leans against the closed door. Her hands are behind her back and she rocks on her heels, suddenly overwhelmed at the feeling in her stomach. It's not the burning heat she's used, no—this is different. It feels… fluttery, like the feeling she gets when she climbs the hill of a roller coaster and the only thing to be heard is the clicking of the ascend, or like right before she takes a sharp turn on the track when she races, the timing of shifting gears needing to be perfect.

Like the feeling right before a first kiss.

Korra places her jacket on the edge of the tub and then steps in. She slides down until she’s sitting. Once she's comfortable she begins to peel the gold foil from the champagne bottle in her hand. “You coming?” she calls playfully as she tugs on the cork and before Asami can respond or make her way to her, the cork pops and the bubbles pour from the neck. 

“Shit—” Korra exclaims and aims the bottle away from her body. Some splashes to the bottom of the tub and so no more goes to waste, she wraps her lips around the bottle and drinks what she can.

Asami can't help the laughter that escapes her. She goes to the tub, kicks her heels off, and steps in. 

“Wait,” Korra warns. “There's wine everywhere, you'll ruin your dress.”

Asami sits anyway, opposite of Korra. “Don't care,” she responds and she finds that she really means it. The tub is big enough to fit the two of them, sure, but their legs are tangled and it's not the most comfortable arrangement.

Asami doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

Korra pouts, watching as Asami’s dress soaks up the liquid puddled in the tub. “It’s a nice dress,” she croaks.

Asami shrugs. “I’ll get it dry cleaned,” she says and leans forward, nabbing the bottle out of Korra’s hand and takes a swig. When she pulls the bottle from her mouth, she wipes her face with the back of her hand. Korra stares at her. Her childish grin has melted into something softer. 

Asami stares back—a challenge in her own look. She raises an eyebrow and both of them burst into more laughter. Korra places her elbows on either side of the tub and then pushes up to lift her butt and scootch down into a more reclined position. She leans her head back against the rim of the tub and her body shakes a few more times as her chuckles die down. It effectively pushes her further into Asami, who’s begun to play with the hem of Korra’s linen pants.

“What was that about?” Asami asks softly.

“Hmm?” is Korra’s response.

“Downstairs,” Asami specifies. “You… told Ginger you were my girlfriend.” She’s hesitant and though they’ve been friends for nearly a year now this is the closest they’ve come to broaching that unspoken… something between them. Asami’s sure she’s not the only one who feels it anymore.

Korra doesn’t lift her head. Instead she closes her eyes and blows out nervous air. “Yeah…” she says and there’s a minute where Asami thinks that’ll be the end of it but then, “Bolin and Opal seemed to be into it, huh? And did you see Mako’s face?”

Asami doesn’t understand why they’re dancing around it. She tugs at Korra’s pant leg. “Korra,” Asami whispers. There’s a part of her that thinks she sounds pathetic. And the other part well… the other part’s just realized how much she loves the woman in front of her and now that she knows she’s sure that she’s going to burst if she holds it in any longer.

She needs to know where Korra’s at.

“Guess it’s not so unbelievable,” Korra says, still talking to the ceiling, “I mean, if Bolin and Opal and Mako bought it. Heh. It’s too bad we’ll have to break their hearts.”

The flutter in Asami’s stomach is overwhelming and it’s clouding her brain—she can’t think. She decides she doesn’t want to. 

Korra is still muttering to herself about how they’re not dating and she still won’t look at her and any control Asami’s had has effectively left her body so she’s not sure who or what to blame when she places the bottle on the bathroom tile and crawls into Korra’s lap.

“Asami… wha—?” she stutters. Her hands find Asami’s waist anyway and her eyes are wide, her pupils blown.

Asami places one of her manicured fingers on Korra’s lips and their faces are already so, so close. “Stop talking,” Asami breathes and then she tips forward barely a centimeter and then their mouths are connected and Asami moans. One of her hands rests on Korra’s jaw, tipping her face up to meet hers, the other grips the edge of the tub next to Korra’s head, propping herself up.

And maybe Asami’s supposed to take this slow, maybe it’s supposed to be sweet, but they’ve already wasted far too much time, so it doesn’t take long for the tentativeness of first kisses to turn open mouthed and hungry. Korra’s fingers dig into her hips and Asami welcomes it, wanting even more and she’s licking into Korra’s mouth and pulling up her dress so she can sit up and straddle her instead, seeking any kind of friction. Korra follows her lead. She moves up and drags Asami into her, her hands gripping at Asami’s ass. The first time Asami grinds down, Korra pulls away with a groan, their lips separating with a slick smack. 

“What… is happening?” Korra pants into Asami’s neck.

Asami’s fingers find Korra’s hair, where she scratches into her scalp. “I don’t know,” Asami responds, equally as out of breath.

“Okay…” Korra says and she kisses at the hollow of Asami’s throat, nips the closer she gets to her jaw. “Can I… take you home?” she asks into her skin. 

Asami groans and her neck falls to the side, going limp at Korra’s ask. She grinds down again and she’s pretty sure that one was involuntary—she’s putty in Korra’s arms. “Please,” she wines.

Korra sits back now, leans against the porcelain once again. “Yeah?” she asks. She smiles up at her and it’s the shyest it's ever been. 

“Yeah.” Asami’s never been so sure of anything in her life.

***

Asami doesn’t much remember the descent down the stairs and back to the party. It isn’t until they make their way into the crowd of people that Asami realizes Korra’s face is smeared with dark lipstick. She lets out an absurd laugh when she notices, pulling her close to try and wipe it off, but before she gets the chance, Korra notices Ginger shooting daggers their way from across the room and she subtly nudges Asami towards the attention. Ginger must have realized they’d spent the night exploring. Oops.

After that they don’t even bother to find their friends to wish them goodbye. The pair stumble out of the building and onto the curb where they’re so tangled in each other Asami’s not quite sure how they manage to hail down a cab. Asami gives the driver her address and they’re both very good—that is, if Asami ignores the wetness that’s pooled between her legs. They keep their hands mostly to themselves on the way there—sitting on opposite sides in the back seat, each looking out their own window. Korra’s arm is propped there and she rests her head on her hand. Between them on the seat their pinkies connect in a ghost of a touch. Asami covers her smile with her hand. 

They thank the driver when he pulls up to the curb outside of Asami’s apartment and then it’s off to the races. The doorman greets them as they dash by and Korra nearly collides into the wall to get to the elevator button. She taps her foot, impatient while they wait for the doors to open. The closer they get, the more Asami loses her will and she can’t help how openly she’s rubbing her thighs together. She pushes Korra into the elevator the moment the doors crack open and then smacks the “door close” button. Korra lets it happen—let’s Asami slam her into the wall and ravish her neck, her lips. “Holy fuck ,” she murmurs. 

And maybe it’s not the best place to start any of the heavy petting but Asami can’t help herself—she undoes the belt around Korra’s waist. She’s sloppy and frantic and her hands are shaking and Korra is no help. She’s frozen, panting heavily. Her hips jut out from where she leans against the wall. Asami is about to drop to her knees when the elevator dings opening to reveal into the small space before her door. She curses, realizing she’ll have to pull away from the other woman to search for her keys in her clutch and it doesn’t help that Korra’s pinned her to the door and is kissing across her bare back. 

“I’ve been wanting to get you out of this dress all fucking night,” she growls into the skin underneath Asami’s ear, causing a shiver to run down her body and directly to her clit. Asami bites her lip to try and hold in a whimper but it escapes her mouth anyways. She closes her eyes and takes a breath to get ahold of herself. She needs to open the door.

“Good,” Asami says, all low and sexy. “I wore it for you.” Then, “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Korra bites at one of her shoulder blades, grinding her hips into Asami’s ass. “Shut up. Of course I noticed. God, Asami, you’re all I think about.”

The door swings open—thank fuck—and the two of them tumble inside. Asami tries to spin in Korra’s arm to attach their lips or continue where they’d left off in the elevator, except Korra’s grip is strong as she pushes Asami into her kitchen counter. Her pelvis hits it in the just right place—that spot just above her pubic bone—and she doesn’t hold back her moan now that she’s in her own space. She bucks against the pressure, seeking anything to relieve her arousal.

Korra’s unzipping the back of her dress, her lips trailing after her fingers. The zipper ends at the peak of Asami’s buttocks and Korra kneels to mouth at the sensitive area and then to wrap her teeth around the lacy band of Asami’s panties. She’s a tease—snapping it back against Asami’s skin and though it doesn’t hurt, she jumps. “Korra…”

As she rises, Korra runs her hands up Asami’s body until they get to her hips and then suddenly she and Korra are facing each other. Finally.

Asami dives forward for a kiss but Korra has other plans. She ducks her head, tongues at Asami’s collar bone, and then her dress is tugged down (it doesn’t take much) and Korra’s hot mouth is wrapped around one of her nipples. Asami’s grip is tight in her hair, pulling her impossibly close; meanwhile, her other arm works to free herself from the garment. She doesn’t succeed in this, probably because Korra pins her arm to the table behind her. “Off,” Asami says and it’s too weak to be an order—a plea rather.

Korra listens either way and tugs her dress off. It pools onto the floor underneath her and Asami has never cared about anything less. The only thing left are her panties. Korra pushes past them, finding the neatly trimmed hairs of her cunt and all Asami wants to do is sink on her thick fingers but Korra holds back, a whisper away from the sensitive bulb. She kisses Asami softly on the corner of her mouth. “Okay?” Korra checks in. 

“Yes,” Asami says. “Please.”

Korra kisses her cheek again and it’s so gentle. Then her nose. Her chin. And then finally, her lips. It’s the first time they’ve slowed down and Asami savors it. Their mouths move lazily against each other and Asami nearly forgets about the fingers near her entrance until one pushes in and Asami lets out a sob. “S—shit!” she curses through it, shakily. 

It glides through Asami’s soaked folds easily and after a few pumps in which Asami has hooked a leg around the back of Korra’s thigh, Korra adds another and the squelching of the penetration is practically pornographic, though much of it is blocked out by Asami’s vocal moans. Her mouth is back on Asami’s chest and her thumb rubs against Asami’s clit and the sensations are completely overwhelming because this is Korra. The Korra who’d shown her kindness when Asami was horrible, the Korra who she’d internet stalked an embarrassing amount of times, the Korra who’d been the subject of one-to-many dirty dreams, who sent her book recommendations at ungodly hours of the day, who loved her family and loved her friends like they were family, who’d been dealt adversity she didn’t deserve and still took the time to make Asami smile. 

The Korra who Asami loves. 

Asami feels her peak just out of reach and her hips gyrate to meet Korra’s strokes and fuck she’s curling her fingers just right and then Korra sucks her earlobe into her mouth and whispers huskily, “Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

And well, Asami’s always been a rule follower. Her body seizes as her climax washes over her. She bucks, not quite ready for it to end, wanting to ride it out for as long as she can, and Korra must get the hint. She pulls out and shifts her attention to Asami’s clit. She rubs in quick, tight circles and Asami spills into another orgasm although she isn’t sure where the first one ends and the second one starts.

When Asami’s body contracts during its aftershocks, overstimulated and spent, she lightly shoves Korra’s arm away. Korra pulls her into her body, nuzzles into her neck, and presses kisses along Asami’s sweaty hairline. “You did so good,” Korra tells her and Asami keens at the praise. “So pretty when you cum,” she mumbles into her kisses and Asami shivers again.

They stay that way until Asami catches her breath. Their lips find each other once again—magnetic—and Asami may be exhausted but she won't wait any longer to have her turn with Korra. She reaches down to pull the forgotten belt from its loops, debating going down on Korra right here but the kitchen is suddenly cold and uncomfortable. She grasps both ends of the belt and yanks. Korra lurches forward, eyes hungry. “Bedroom,” Asami orders. Korra gulps.

They trip on their way there, more than once. There’s a lot of ground to cover, Asami’s apartment being larger than she probably needs. The part of her brain that’s still clouded by her orgasms thinks about how that just means there’s more to ground to be ravished on later.

They make it to their destination eventually. Asami pushes Korra to sit on the end of her bed, then kneels on it herself. Korra crawls backwards to the pillows and Asami follows. The belt finally comes loose and then so does the button of Korra’s pants and then they’re working together to pull them off. Korra’s briefs go with them—no reason to waste time stripping one item at a time. Except, Asami can’t help herself. She pushes Korra’s top up to her breasts and leans down—ass in the air, kissing at her abs as she makes her way to her center. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Asami asks into her skin. When Korra doesn’t answer, she drags her teeth across the ridges there and bites lightly. “Hmm?” she pushes. When she looks up through her eyelashes, Korra is watching her. 

“Nngh,” Korra bites back a moan. “I—no,” she answers.

Asami spreads out. She’s lying flat on her stomach now. “No?” It’s teasing.

Korra shakes her head and reaches down to move Asami’s hair away from where it’s fallen in front of her face. Asami’s a breath away from Korra’s cunt. She sticks her tongue out, ghosts the softest of touches against Korra’s clit. Korra jumps. “Fuck, Asami,” she gasps.

Asami chuckles and moves up, kisses the top of her mound. Korra’s unshaven. “Do you want to guess?” Asami probes.  

Korra wines. “Wha—guess?” She’s panting. Ruined. And Asami’s barely touched her. Her head is thrown back against the pillows and her eyes are squeezed shut. Asami revels in the control she has.

“Come on, Korra,” Asami says, pulling away. She places a hand just above Korra’s groin, then props her head against it, “keep up.”

“I…” Korra lets out a frustrated sigh and wipes the sweat from her brow, “don’t know. You didn’t like me much. At the beginning.” Her sentences are choppy as they come out between puffs of breaths.

Asami purses her lips and places a finger to them with a tap. Playful contemplation. “Is that so? I don’t remember it quite like that.”

“You barely glanced my way.”

“Mmm,” Asami hums and kisses the inside of Korra’s thigh. “You should have taken it as a complement.”

“Heh, I took it as a challenge.”

“Did you now?” Asami asks and hides her smile in Korra’s sex. She licks into it, but only once.  “And how’s that working out for you?”

Korra fists the comforter next to Asami’s head, her knuckles white. Her other hand rests across her own stomach, her fingers flexing. She’s showing quite a bit of restraint, not sinking them into Asami’s tangled locks to pull her where she’s been neglected. “L—ah. Look… where it got me,” she forces out.

“Underneath me?” Asami responds. “Completely at my mercy?” She says each word as its own sentence and concludes them with a kiss at the juncture of Korra’s thigh, then a lick to her slit, then sucks Korra’s clitoris between her lips. “You’re being such a good girl.”

Korra arches off the bed and her hand can’t help but grip Asami’s hair now and she tugs and Asami lets her because she’s making the most delicious noises and Asami thinks she might cum again from that alone—from finally giving the pleasure she’s craved to give. To take.

“Ah—sami!” Korra cries and her thighs tighten around Asami’s head and it’s glorious but then Korra’s nearly there. Asami pries her legs open and pins them to the bed, her fingers join the fray and then Korra’s feet are planted on the bed, giving herself the leverage to buck into Asami’s mouth and then she’s coming and there’s a gush of wetness and Asami laps it up—hopes for more.

When Korra’s twitching finally settles she tugs Asami up from between her legs and then to her lips, initiating a filthy kiss, ignoring the dampness on her lover’s chin. She moans into Asami’s mouth when she tastes herself. Eventually, their kisses turn lazy and they collapse side by side on the bed. Asami wipes her face with the back of her hand—not so different from when she’d wiped the wine away in the bathtub, before she and Korra found themselves tangled together. How does that already feel like a million years ago?

Korra has an arm slung against her eyes as she catches her breath. She’s on her back, the covers debauched underneath her. Asami lays on her stomach next to her, her head rests in her crossed arms as she watches her. She realizes they hadn’t finished their conversation.

“The first time I met you,” Asami says.

Korra peaks at her, barely lifting her arm. “Hmm?”

“That’s how long I’ve wanted you.”

Korra’s arm drops now, hitting the mattress heavily. She turns so she’s laying on her side and Asami can’t help that her eyes wander to the curves of Korra’s body but then, “Me too,” she admits in a whisper. 

And maybe Asami should be far past the feeling after what they’d just done, but her heart swells. She turns her head and tucks it in between her arms, hiding her blush. She feels Korra shift. She reaches out and tucks Asami’s hair behind her ear, leans forward and kisses her temple, then noses at the same spot. “I love you, you know that?”

Asami’s emotions boil over and she feels her eyes well with tears. The thing is, for as long as Asami’s yearned to hear it, she’d known it to be true. Of course Korra loved her. She’d shown her countless times and Asami’s sure she’ll show her countless more. Though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel incredible to hear it from Korra’s lips. Asami nods her head into her arms.

Korra kisses her again. “‘Sami, baby. Look at me.”

Asami listens. She finds that Korra’s eyes glisten with tears as well. She looks nervous—vulnerable. Asami reaches out, wipes an escaped tear from Korra’s cheek. Korra nuzzles into her hand. “I love you too,” Asami tells her. 

Korra releases a breath she must have been holding. It’s shaky but it finishes as a laugh. “Thank God,” she jokes. “I mean, how else would you explain this?” She flashes that picture of little toddler Korra that Asami had nabbed from her room. She’d gone out of her way to frame it and place it on her nightstand and then had effectively forgotten it was there. 

Maybe she should be embarrassed by it but Korra’s eyes have softened so Asami just pushes against the arm that holds it. “Whatever,” she says. “I saw your pervy swimsuit pic of me at your bedside. How do you explain that?”

Korra’s eyes widen but then she laughs and rubs a hand down her face. “Uh… because you're super hot?” 

Asami lifts her head. “Right answer,” she teases and Korra leans down to meet her lips in a sweet kiss.

They fall into a slumber soon after, wrapped in each other’s arms and when Asami wakes up in the early hours of the morning pleasantly sore, she watches her lover sleep.

***

It’s just over a year later and Asami finds herself pushing through a crowd of loud, sweaty patrons. She’s had a long day at work and as much as she wants to go home, toe out of her heels, and crawl into her bed—into her girlfriend’s strong arm—she’s also a woman of her word and she’d promised her friends she’d meet them for a night out on the town. She finds them at the bar, laughing amongst themselves.

Korra spots her first, senses her presence probably. Her grin is wide and toothy as if she hadn’t seen her all day, except, Korra had—she’d stopped by the office with lunch which had turned into a quick and dirty fuck against Asami’s desk because Korra had worn the strap under her clothes and then failed to hide the bulge, distracting Asami far too much to get lost in her food.

“Hi,” Korra greets when Asami steps next to her. 

“Hi back,” Asami responds. 

Korra pulls her into her side and plants a kiss on her cheek. “I missed you,” she mutters into her skin.

“Do I get the credit? Like when you guys get married, will I be thanked accordingly in your vows?” Opal interrupts their moment from where she sits at the bar. Korra shakes her head and flags down the bartender to order a drink for girlfriend.

“Nah,” Bolin says. “They should let you make the speech. Ooh, you should officiate!” 

“Who said anything about marriage?” Asami asks, amused. 

Opal shrugs and it’s playful—exaggerated. “Just a thought,” she says.

“Mm-hmm,” Asami says, an eyebrow raised. She takes the offered drink from Korra’s hand, smiles at her in thanks. Korra winks back.

Asami makes her way to one of the open seats, runs her hand across Korra’s back as she goes. Bolin and Opal gesture to the pool tables in the corner of the bar, saying that that’s where they’ll be if the pair needs them. Korra waves them off and then takes the seat next to Asami. They haven’t had a lot of time to do this recently. Asami’s busy at work (always) and Korra’s trying her hand at the college thing—interested in pursuing something in physiotherapy. She’d loved coaching the university swim team but after a season, decided she was holding onto a part of her past that didn’t suit her anymore. Bolin and Opal are busy with each other, talking seriously about where they see themselves in the future. Professionally they’re collaborating on writing scripts for the stage. And Mako’s doing whatever it is Mako does—currently private investigating, Asami thinks.

She hears Korra ask the bartender for a glass of water. “How was the rest of work?” she asks.

Asami sighs. “Annoying. I was so sick of sitting in board meetings that I skipped the last one and went down to the workshop. I lost track of time.”

Korra grasps her chest. “No! And what was the board to do without their big, bad CEO?”

“Fuck if I know,” Asami says, letting out a puff of air that blows her bangs out of the way. “My assistant took notes. I guess I’ll find out Monday morning.”

Korra leans in close. “No work this weekend? Playing hooky at the company you run? Well Miss Sato, it seems like someone’s rubbing off on you.” She wiggles her eyebrows at the innuendo.

Asami rolls her eyes. “Oh, you think you’re so cute, don’t you?” she says, but she closes the distance between them anyways, pecking Korra on the lips. 

Korra mumbles, “I am, ” into Asami’s mouth. They pull apart when the bartender places Korra’s ice water in front of them, dropping a straw next to the glass. 

“I missed you too, by the way,” Asami says, changing the subject.

“Yeah?” Korra says, tapping the straw on the bar to free it from its wrapper. She places it in her drink, takes a quick sip, and that starts to fiddle with the wrapper scrap. “Tell me about it?”

Asami taps her fingers on the wood of the bar. “I’m sure you know.”

“Sure, but I like to hear you talk about me.”

“Yes, you’re very modest about it.”

Korra grasps her hand. Plays with her fingers. “We should take a vacation,” she says. “Just the two of us.” It would feel out of the blue if it hadn't come from Korra.

And God, does that sound nice. “I could use one,” Asami agrees. Then before they can get too ahead of themselves, “Where would we go?” she asks.

“Anywhere,” Korra says simply. “Doesn’t matter. As long as we’re together.”

Korra’s good at that—making big feelings sound simple. Asami is endlessly envious of it. “Okay. How about… we hop in the car and just drive. We can figure out the rest later.”

Korra’s eyes light up at that. “Roughing it with the Asami Sato? Sounds perfect.” Asami knows Korra means it. She’s not sure how she got so lucky—how she’s so happy in a relationship she stumbled into by accident. Asami from a year ago would be horrified. She’d broken all of her rules. Has no plan. 

All she knows is that Korra’s the one she wants. For the rest of her life.

She feels a tug at her finger and looks down questioningly. There, around the ring finger of her left hand sits the paper scrap Korra had been playing with, a perfect, tiny knot tied at the top. Asami feels her heart skip a beat.

When she looks up to find Korra’s gaze, Asami knows without a doubt that she feels the same.

***

Fin

Chapter Text

It’s been… a long day.

A day in which Asami’s found herself glancing far too many times at the clock mounted on the wall or the watch on her wrist or the digital one that sits at her desk. This is where Asami is, her head resting on her arm, her fingers running through her hair. In her other hand she holds a contract. A ridiculous one at that—one that she’s taken the time to run angry, red pen marks through many of its lines. 

She’s long since pulled her locks from the tight bun it had been pulled back into, hoping it would release some tension. It hasn’t.

She leans back in her chair, rubs her temples, and lets out a breath of air.

“Busy day?” a voice asks, amusement in its tone. Asami jumps then blinks at the body standing near the door of her office.

“Korra?” Asami can’t believe she hadn’t noticed her girlfriend enter, or hear the door click shut. She couldn’t be more relieved to see her. Korra’s short hair is in a low ponytail and she wears an olive green boiler suit that sits a bit baggy over her body. Her short sleeves are rolled higher, the black tribal tattoo recently inked onto her bicep on full display. The legs of her coveralls are tucked into a pair of wheat colored Timberland boots and there’s a brown paper bag hanging from her hand.

She wasn’t even trying and she looked so unbelievably hot. Asami snaps herself out of her thoughts. “I—no,” she says. “Boring more like.”

“Mm,” Korra hums as makes her way around Asami’s desk. She leans down and kisses Asami on her head. Asami closes her eyes and leans into it. “Poor baby,” Korra mumbles into her hair. 

Asami chuckles under her breath, tilts her head back, and purses her lips for more. Korra plants a hand on the chair over Asami’s shoulder and leans in to meet her girlfriend’s deep red lips. “Yes, poor me,” Asami says after a peck and then goes in for another and then their mouths are moving against each other in languid kisses. God, Asami thinks with a moan, this will never get old.

They’re interrupted by a long beep that sounds from Asami’s desk—her phone. “Miss Sato?” Asami’s assistant speaks through the comm system. Before Asami can even think to lean forward to answer her, Korra intercepts her and holds down the button to respond.

Asami tries to stop her. “Kor—”

“She’s on lunch. For the next hour, at least, ” Korra says and shoots a conspiratorial smile Asami’s way. “Don’t bother her.”

Asami slaps Korra’s hand away and leans into the receiver herself. “No, Hana, don’t listen to her. Just… please screen my calls,” Asami says to her assistant, but she’s giving Korra an unamused look when she does so.

“Of course. Enjoy your break,” comes the awkward reply and then the speaker cracks and the connection ends.

Asami huffs and turns Korra who’s now leaning on her arms against the top of the desk. “Cute,” Asami says.

Korra shrugs. “I know.” Her tone is playful. “I don’t think she likes me much,” she says as she grabs the brown bag from where she’d placed it on the desk and moves it to the coffee table at the couch on the other side of Asami’s office. “She gets all… nervous.”

Asami rolls her eyes. Her girlfriend doesn’t understand how charming she is. “Hana likes you fine.” 

Korra shrugs. “If you say so.” Then, “Come eat,” Korra orders and opens the bag. She pulls out a few plastic take out containers and spreads them out across the surface. The utensils follow.

Asami stays where she is until Korra finishes. Thinks about how lucky she is to have her. Asami pushes out of her chair and it’s only a few strides until she’s sitting next to her. Once she’s there, Korra makes herself comfortable. Her legs are spread and one arm is slung across the back of the couch. 

“You’re not eating?” Asami asks as she pulls the wooden chopsticks apart. 

“You first,” Korra says, “because I’m sure you haven’t eaten today and I wasn’t going to let you go until tonight. I know how you are.”

Asami opens her mouth to argue except… she isn’t wrong. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she says instead and Korra softens.

“Always,” she says and Asami is reminded of just how much she loves her because she knows that Korra means it, that she continues to show up. Proves it again, and again, and again…

They talk over Asami’s meal, between bites of sushi. When Korra brings up Hana's alleged disdain for her once again, Asami tells Korra that she’s often the topic of office gossip. That she’s sure her employees don’t mean for her to overhear—about how attractive Korra is and how that may be true except she’s far out of Miss Sato’s league yet the past year or so is the happiest many of them have ever seen their boss. Korra finds all of this incredibly amusing, blushes at the fact that much of the office has been thirsting after her, but agrees that Asami is wildly out of her league (she could not be more wrong and Asami fights her on this) and then with a big cheesy grin, “If they think you’re at your happiest, what does that make me?” and “God, ‘Sami, were you Future Industries’ Miranda Priestly?”

Asami defends herself, “Running a company is stressful, Korra.”

Korra raises her hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” she apologizes and then, “Would it help my case if I said that I’d find it incredibly sexy if you were?”

Asami raises a brow. Interesting. “I’m sure you’d be the only one. But yes it does.”

They move on and at some point she gestures for Korra to come closer, to open her mouth. Asami plops a piece of sushi atop her tongue and then kisses Korra’s lips gently.

Korra falls back against the couch once again as she chews. Asami studies her, drags her eyes across her girlfriend’s body and she still can’t believe how long she’d worked to actively deny her attraction to this woman. How much it hurt her to do so. Both of them.

Everything about Korra is exactly what Asami was looking for. That she didn’t realize until later—after they’d started dating—that from the moment the two of them met Asami had been drawing up the plans to get them to fall into each other's arms.

Though maybe not as meticulously as she had meant it to be.

And maybe she’s started a new plan now that they're together. One that she adds to every time she’s reminded just how much Korra is obsessed with her. Except, it’s looser than she’s used to.

Halfway through Asami’s survey of her lover, her eyes stutter over Korra’s lap and she gulps, nearly choking on her food.

There’s a bulge and Asami hadn’t noticed it on Korra’s arrival, her clothes were baggy enough to hide it when she stood, but now that she’s sitting—the way she’s sitting—the material pulls tight around her crotch and the shape is so unmistakable Asami can’t believe she’d missed it. 

Korra has yet to notice that she’s noticed. Asami places her chopsticks on the table, abandoning the rest of her food. She motions to Korra’s outfit and then around her office. “You’re dressed the part,” she says. “For the shop at least.”

Korra’s smirk is crooked. “Yeah?” she says. “You’d hire me?”

Asami taps her finger on her chin, considering this. Well, Korra had bought them at least an hour and time was ticking. “I suppose,” she says and purses her lip. Asami adjusts the way she’s sitting on the couch. She crosses her legs and makes a show of pulling her skirt down when it rides up—pencil style, tight and leather—then props an elbow on the back of the couch and leans a cheek onto her fist. She drags her eyes across Korra’s bare arms, bites her lip, and says, “Mostly because I’d want to fuck you.”

Asami sees that Korra’s next breath is shaky. “I’d let you,” Korra responds and her voice is husky.

“Oh,” Asami says and leans closer. She drops into a whisper now that they’re only a few centimeters away. “I know.”

Korra pitches forward to capture her girlfriend’s mouth, but Asami pulls away and tsks. “Patience,” Asami says. She taps Korra on her chin and Korra’s eyes cross as she follows the movement. “It’s a quality I’d look for in a potential hire. Seems that might be something you struggle with?”

“I can be patient,” Korra says with a shake of her head, eager. She’s speaking to Asami’s mouth.

“Can you? Care to provide an example?” Asami asks. She revels in the power she has over this woman. 

“I waited for you,” Korra says and of course she always has to go and steal Asami’s thunder. And her breath. She can’t help herself. Asami leans forward and licks into Korra’s mouth, but when the other woman grabs at her neck to bring her deeper, Asami pulls away. Korra groans, displeased that Asami won’t indulge her. 

Asami runs her hand through the back of Korra’s hair, fists into her ponytail to force her crane her neck, where Asami turns her attention to attention to, sucking into Korra’s skin. “Maybe you deserve a reward,” she says between nips, “for being so patient.”

Korra’s breaths are heavy when she says, “Maybe I do.”

The hand not holding Korra’s head runs across her body—starting just below her breasts. She scratches down her stomach and though it's through her clothes Korra still shivers and Asami can feel her abs contract under her fingers. 

And maybe Korra expects her to stop, but Asami doesn’t and her hand finds the bulge between Korra’s legs. She grasps it and pushes down, driving it into Korra’s center. 

Korra’s head falls back and a moan rips from her lips.

Asami smiles into her neck. “Is this for me?” she asks, innocent.

“I didn’t— ah. I didn’t think you noticed,” Korra forces out. Her eyes are shut tight.

“No?” Asami slides to the floor, situates herself on her knees between Korra’s legs. Though she’s wearing coveralls, Asami finds a fly and unzips it, then reaches in and pulls the silicone cock out from the opening. She leans down and kisses the tip. Korra bucks. “How could I not?”

“Oh, fuck…” 

“So hard for me,” Asami mumbles and nuzzles into Korra’s clothed thigh, jerking her hand, making sure to apply pressure on the downstroke so Korra can feel it. “So good…” she says, her words dying as she draws the cock into her mouth. 

Korra reaches down and collects Asami’s hair—the sections that have fallen in front of her face as she bobs—and pushes them back. She only holds on. Watches. Because of course Korra couldn’t technically feel it, but Asami sure knows how to put on a show and she wasn’t going to miss a second of it. Told her as much the first time they’d done this.

Asami meets her eyes, looking up through her lashes. She pulls off, the strap-on slick. She plants her hands on Korra’s thighs and pushes off her knees, extending to capture Korra’s lips in a frantic, hungry kiss.

Korra’s hands find her hips and then drag up to her waist where she untucks her blouse from her skirt. She finds Asami’s skin, runs her fingers along her back, then returns to the bottom of her blouse, trying to pull it over Asami’s head.

Asami detaches herself and stands up. Korra’s arms fall to her lap, one of her hands finds her cock, and a whine leaves her lips when Asami crosses her arms. She’s clearly frustrated and incredibly aroused, but sometimes it’s far too fun to be cruel. 

“We had an hour, Korra,” Asami says and glances down at the watch on her wrist. “You wasted it playing coy.”

Korra heaves from where she’s sunk into the couch. “We still have time,” she pleads. She’s sweaty and her hair’s escaped from her ponytail—a mess.

Asami walks back slowly, her eyes not leaving her girlfriend’s as she props her ass on her desk and makes a show of crossing her legs and leans back on her hands. “You want to fuck me?” 

“Please,” Korra begs and Asami watches Korra buck into her own hand, seeking friction against her clit. Well, Asami thinks, we can’t have that.

“Stop,” Asami orders and Korra does as she says—or at least, she stops jerking herself off. “You’re not allowed to come.” Asami opens her legs. “Not unless you're inside,” she says and she knows it’s exactly what Korra wanted to hear because in a blink of an eye, Korra’s crossed the room, stripped her coveralls from her shoulders—letting them fall to her waist, the rigid planes of her stomach on display—and hiked up Asami’s skirt. It’s more difficult than either of them would like. The leather is tight against her thighs and the fact that she’s broken out in a sweat isn’t helping. “Good girl,” she praises through broken breaths as she shimmies out of her panties. “You listen so well.”

Korra groans then spits into one hand and strokes herself, wetting the cock, while the other reaches behind Asami and knocks off all of the very important documents. By the crash, Asami assumes the phone has hit the ground too.

And sure, this may be immensely inappropriate and wildly unprofessional, but this is also the most turned on Asami’s ever been and they’re in her office. Perks of being the CEO, she supposes. For now she’ll tell herself that this is a one time thing—will tell Korra the same once they’ve both come. 

Neither of them will believe the words that leave her mouth. 

“In, Korra,” she instructs in a frustrated exhale as Korra runs the cock through her soaked folds, collecting the natural lubricant. She’s sure they aren’t going to have a problem getting it in and even if they did—well…

Asami removes one of her arms from around Korra’s shoulders and reaches between them when she feels the strap-on bump her clit. She pushes down against the silicone, lining it up with her hole and Korra barely has to thrust; the length slides in easily. They both let out low moans. She’s aware that her assistant isn’t far from the other side of the door but she wraps her legs around Korra’s waist anyways, pulls her mouth into her neck. Meanwhile her other hand grips one of Korra’s toned buttocks, a wordless plea for her to drive her hips harder.

Korra does of course and when Asami cries out, unable to control herself, Korra intercepts the noise, swallows it with a kiss that quickly turns into them just panting into each other’s mouths. “You want everyone to know how good I fuck you?” Korra growls and her next thrust is particularly deep. 

Maybe they preferred Asami to be the one in charge or at least that’s the dynamic they fall into the most, but goddamn, when Korra talks to her like this…

She bites Korra’s shoulder.

“Is that a yes, Miss Sato?”

“Shit…”

Korra chuckles low and sexy then pries Asami’s legs from her body, muscles them onto the desk so her heels are propped on either side of her, her legs spread wide. Korra rests one of her thick hands on Asami’s thigh, keeping her open and then with the other, leans forward and grips the far edge of the desk for leverage. “So tight,” Korra mutters and Asami feels the desk shift underneath her as the angle switches and she drives into Asami’s g-spot.

And yes that’s true. Asami can’t stop her walls from contracting and she’s trying to pull Korra deeper, but it’s only starting to force her out. Korra notices this, if the focus on her face is any indication, and the hand on her thigh drops to Asami’s clit and then she’s rubbing in quick, tight circles and holy fuck, Asami is going to come. Hard.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stave it off. Ignores Korra’s babbling of, “taking me so well,” and “making a mess on my cock,” because she knows it’s not easy for Korra to come when she’s wearing the strap, but she needs her too because they don’t have much time left and Asami doesn’t want to peak without her.

“Korra,” Asami says between heaving breaths. “Come in me.”

Korra’s hips stutter. “I— fuck!”

Asami loosens her grip on her lover and lays back on the desk instead. She changes their method, meets Korra’s thrusts halfway and uses whatever strength she has left to thread her legs around Korra’s thighs once again, forcing her hips to grind instead of thrust and it must help because Korra’s lost her rhythm as she chases her orgasm, the end of the dildo—the one nestled in the o-ring—pushes against her clitoris.

And normally, the lack of tempo would kill Asami’s climax, but knowing that Korra is close to her own—selfishly taking her own pleasure as she pants and bites at Asami’s neck to hide her sobs—is so fucking hot that Asami’s back arches off the wood. “Ah! I’m gonna… Kor—” her noises are muted when a hand clasps against her mouth.

Korra is gasping into Asami’s skin, “Come with me, come with me…” she repeats mindlessly and then a groan rips from her throat and Asami can feel the vibration against her skin and Korra’s hips stutter violently and then they’re both coming and Asami is scratching down Korra’s back and thank God Korra had the foresight to cover her mouth.

They stay that way, their bodies twitching and seizing in the aftershocks. The room is still but it’s filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing. Asami lifts her head from where she’d thrown it back against the desk and kisses at Korra’s sweaty forehead, wipes the hair back that’s sticking to her skin. “You did so good, baby,” she says.

She feels Korra grunt against her skin and can’t help but wince when the praise causes Korra to buck her hips lazily. Asami slaps lightly at Korra’s ass. “Can you pull out?”

Korra does as she’s told, the cock squelching as she does so. When Asami glances down, the silicone glistens from her wetness and the dark curls beneath Korra’s harness are matted in slick as well and Asami isn’t sure whose it is. Korra is staring at the strap-on in wonder. “It’s… never been so easy. To come. Like that,” she shares in between breaths.

Asami groans as she shifts and sits up on her elbows. “Mmm,” Asami hums. “It was so hot.”

Korra laughs then bends down to pick up Asami’s discarded panties then uses them to dry the silicone. “You made a mess,” she teases.

Asami dishes it right back. She spreads her folds and runs a finger through her cunt then brings it to her mouth and makes a show of licking it clean. “And whose fault is that?”

She sees Korra gulp. “I—uh… I think our hour is up,” she says and it’s so weak, Asami giggles. 

“Feeling punctual now?”

It seems to be quite a struggle, but Korra drags her eyes away, tucks the strap-on back into her coveralls, and pulls it up and back over her shoulders—zips her fly and then buttons the rest to her neck. Asami watches as she tucks her balled up panties into her pocket. She doesn’t comment.

“You’re wearing it out? That can’t be comfortable,” Asami asks, equally amused and concerned.

Korra glances around. “Nowhere else to put it,” she says simply and tugs at the crotch of her suit, making sure she’s hidden. “And it’s not, but I’ll be home quick. Got a date with the vibe…” she mumbles the end.

Asami pushes herself off the desk and approaches her, pulling her skirt down as she goes. She’ll deal with… all that in a minute. “Aw, sorry I can’t take care of you better,” she apologizes and pecks Korra’s pouting lips. Korra kisses her back sweetly.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I can take care of myself… but only if you promise to wear the strap next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” Asami asks and straightens Korra’s appearance—fixes her hair and rubs the lipstick off her neck. It could not be more obvious what the two of them had been up to and what was it she said she was going to tell Korra once they’d both come? She doesn’t have a clue. 

Korra smirks, tilts her head up to plant a wet kiss against Asami’s jaw. “Sorry, should I make an appointment, Miss Sato? Should I ask Hana to pencil me in on my way out? ‘Asami rails her hot girlfriend into her work bench,’ say, next Thursday at noon?”

Asami playfully shoves Korra away. “Don’t you dare,” she warns. “She’s a very good assistant. I’d like to keep her around.”

“So… I can’t suck you off from under your desk next week?”

Asami’s breath gets caught in her throat. “Well… don’t put words in my mouth.”

Korra laughs and sidles up to her lover. “Not the only thing I’d—”

Asami covers her mouth before she can finish her thought. “Okay! I think it’s time for you to head home now, you perv.”

She pulls her hand away when she feels Korra lick it but before she can scold her, Korra gives her one last quick kiss before she begins to back away towards the door. “See you tonight? Want to meet at yours and then we’ll head out together?”

Another reminder that they don’t live together. Not yet, at least. Asami plans to change that soon.

Asami shakes her head. “I’ll probably be here late. I’ve got like, five meetings scheduled for this afternoon and I’ve got other things to do on top of that,” she motions to the mess on the ground. “Contracts to read through. I’ll just meet you guys there.

“Don’t work too hard.”

Asami waves her off. “You’ll come over after?” she asks, shifting the subject.

“If you’ll have me,” Korra says.

“Always.” Asami responds, parroting what Korra had said earlier. She knows that Korra knows that to be true though they haven’t really talked about it—their future, their expectations for it—but for the first time that Asami can remember, she likes the idea of flying by the seat of her pants, especially if she’s doing so with Korra at her side.