.: vixen :.

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"I'm an open book despite my puzzled look and coax me to confess to all I never meant. This is the absolute last time you'll fall in love with me. I nod my head like I agree."

"Tell me a story." Korra says, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands seeking purchase in the red silk sheets under her arching body and her chest is heaving. Mako is close enough to hear her heartbeat, trying to match his own. He wants to reach in and claim it under the wicked symphony of his fingers, curl around it, stopping her breath. Then she would be her most beautiful. He isn't sure if he's ready to damn her quite yet. Mako wants to see her beg for it first.

"What sort of story?" Mako slides himself up the length of her body, placing his elbows on either side of her head, caging her. He presses his nose into her scent, discovers water mist, fresh soil, cinder ashes and night wind. And power, he feels the crackle of other worldly power rush through her veins.

"A good one." Korra breathes him in, slipping her hands up his chest, clasping them around his neck, Mako struggles against the growl caught in his throat when she digs in, harsh and cruel. "Tell me a story of good and evil. You've lived enough lifetimes to know at least one."

The pale moonlight is ripe and full, washed blood red with the souls of the wicked. Death was in the air tonight. Korra doesn't seem bothered by the morbid environment, the ever flow of sorrows from her people. They cry out in the streets, cry out for their goddess. Save us. She doesn't answer, with her flushed brown skin and eyes forged black in desire.

Mako laughs against her and she shivers straight down to her core. It calls for him, and him alone, as always. She's chosen. He expected her to be selfless, like she's taught. To fall back, full of grace and humility. Though, he can't hide his smirk when she shows up at his doorstep, in the dead of night. Korra has always been very selfish. So she's chosen, not for her people. But for herself. Chosen him.

"Have you heard the story of Pandora's Box?" He asks. Korra shakes her head, twisting the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging them harshly. He winches. How very Korra-like.

"Pandora was the first woman on earth. Created by the hands of the Gods themselves. She was given a box, which Zeus instructed her not to open. But…she was curious." Mako hovers his lips over hers, not touching yet. They stare into each other at a standstill, that she breaks when she blinks out her lust, as his hand caresses her sex, her legs parting for him.

"So she opens the box and all the evil contained escapes, gripping the earth with black hands. She tries to close it, but to no avail."

Korra finally collapses the space between them. Her lips are slick and sweet under his own, moving to her heart's drumbeat, grasping for him. She pulls away in a huff. Control shines in her eyes, reminding him who holds the cards. Who has the power.

"What does Zeus do?" She asks.

"He did nothing." Mako answers, placing a candy kiss near the dip and slide of her collarbone, his palm easing up the polished skin of her stomach, fingers hovering around her bellybutton.

"Nothing?"

She blinks her eyes up at him and they soften with her sweet smile, then there's a flutter in his heart that he doesn't expect. It flowers inside of him, a bloom of pleasure, longing and something akin to love searing his soul and senses into one.

"Everyone gives in to darkness, Korra." Mako says surely, slowly easing into her; warm, wet, untried and perfect. So perfect. Korra becomes a bow, arching beneath him, mouth open wordlessly, fingers digging half moons into his flesh. "It is only a matter of how long it takes one to admit to their temptations."