borra-nation:

bored-to-smithereens:

“You need to rest, Bo. Really, you have to lay down. Get some sleep.”

He’s been drugged up with some sort of airbender herbal home-remedy to promote coagulation, and has taken to lavishing the side of her neck with slightly open-mouthed kisses. His hair is more than a little mussed up, particularly in back, and his eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, a side-effect of the herbal brew. 

“Don’ wanna sleep,” he slurs. While he talks his lips drag heavily across her skin, letting up by the time they reach her throat. She shivers involuntarily, relaxing her head back so that she can close her eyes against the rush of just let him keep going that assaults her in the dusk-like lighting of the infirmary.

Bolin bears his teeth in a mock-snarl and then nips at the soft spot under her jaw, his nose flattened beneath her chin. Korra makes a sound that’s shaky and certainly weaker than she’d be willing to admit, and melts forward from her spot perched on the edge of the bed, falling against him. He can’t catch her so they sway, back and forth while Bolin keeps pecking fervent, reverent kisses against her already-flushed neck. 

The first grunt doesn’t alarm her, if anything makes her slide closer to him, so the bed dressings are bunched between his thigh and her knee, so that she’s practically sitting on his lap even though there’s the whole bed. But then he gets his tongue in the hollow of her collar bone and his curls tickle the skin made sensitive by his attention and oh gods she collapses against him with her forearms braced on his shoulders, because she can’t touch him for fear she’d hurt him.

Bolin grunts for real under her deposited weight, like he’s in pain, and Korra pulls herself carefully away from him, settling sideways with her legs still folded beneath her. “I told you,” she smirks. “Sleep, rest, et cetera.” 

He shakes his head stubbornly, his lips pursed in a sort of pout. “C’mon,” he says, like his tongue is too big and too clumsy for his mouth. “Just…” he trails off, and decides that it’s a much better idea to finish his sentence by leaning forward to catch her lips, rolling her lower lip between his to pull her face closer.

Another pained grunt into her mouth has her pushing him back gently, her eyes falling to his midsection, which is covered only by a bandage that’s already spotting with fresh blood. “Bo, listen to me,” she says forcefully. “You have to lay down and try to go to sleep.”

Even though his eyes are still partially closed and fogged over with grogginess, the intensity with which he meets her gaze is enough to entice her to pause for a moment, staring earnestly back at him. She’s sure he’s much closer than he was a second ago, if that’s possible, but it doesn’t matter because he lets her ease him down until his head’s on the pillow.  

“Korra,” Bolin sounds like he’s pleading. She looks down at him, and his lips are a little bruised and his cheeks a little red and his eyes are just barely sparkling in the half-light. “Kiss it better,” she’s positive he’s pleading this time, and normally she’d prance off and really make him beg for it, but -

He reaches up and pulls her down towards him, his arms moving as if through water, lethargically, and he smells like Pema’s herbal paste coagulation-promoter but he tastes like maybe another few minutes.  

Oh my spirits—

That was nothing short of amazing ohh.