Disclaimer: I own nothing but a dirty mind, I guess.


Sometimes, at certain moments (like now), Korra wondered if bending a specific element affected the way its wielder had...well...sex. If, somehow, a bender embodied their element during the act itself. It was a semi-fleeting thought, one that usually wove its way into her musings at night and receded when she was finally tired, or if she felt like she was an hour or two away from seeing sunrise and just fed up with thinking.

However, no matter how fleeting it was, it came enough times for her to believe that if there was a theory written down somewhere, it was the following:

Airbenders, in the past, were verbal. Sighing and moaning and whimpering, letting their lovers know if he or she was pleasing them and slowly building up to that moment;

Earthbenders were sturdy yet flexible, perfect for the more creative positions or simply keeping their lovers' feet from touching the ground when the lovemaking went from the bed to the floor or a chair—anywhere really;

Firebenders were warm, plain and simple, their ability to control their body temperature perfect for cold winter nights or, she figured, wonderfully intense in the summer—just barely bearable, but not so overwhelming that...things couldn't happen;

and Waterbenders were, well, wet—whether it was from pools of sweat gathering or...in other ways.

Part of her was well aware her particular train of thought always popped up soon after the act itself. Whenever an hour passed and she was awake and thinking, and found herself staring at the pinpricks of streetlights outside of the Probending Arena, safe in bed, and remembering that Mako was the cause and inspiration of her thoughts and the reason why she couldn't sleep.

Their first time had been awhile back, months ago.

They had been fighting.

He had caught her holding her side a bit gingerly and was mad because he (correctly) suspected that she had been lying about not getting any injuries during that Equalist riot she had helped the police with two days prior. And she, upon entering his room and making a pit stop to his and Bolin's shared bathroom to open his faucet and get water on her hand to heal herself, was screaming because he didn't have the right to tell her to be careful. She was The Avatar and even though Amon had been defeated, there were still Equalist uprisings all over Republic City and she had to stop them before someone innocent got hurt.

"But what about YOU getting hurt?' His footsteps followed hers the moment they stomped across his floor again, past his bed and towards the windows and the view of the Republic City skyline. "How does you getting hurt and having to heal yourself six times a day help the police? How does that help anyone?"

"It's not like I'm in the hospital! It's already healed—I just want to be careful. And whenever the police need me again, I'm going to help them! Because that's how I help people—by being a full avatar and using my full avatar powers!"

He growled. "Stop being so stubborn. Just rest and let Chief Beifong and the police do the job by themselves for once!"

"Stop telling me what to do!"

He had walked over to her then, as heavy-footed as she had been, and yanked at the crook of her elbow to spin her around to face him. His eyes were livid. He kept asking her, his husky voice down to a soft whisper, why he couldn't say things she needed to hear if they were for her own benefit and good advice, period? And she, trying and failing to move away from him and get his hand off her, had countered it by bringing up Asami and telling him that just because he broke up with his ex-girlfriend and he had decided that touching her butt whenever he kissed her now was a good idea, and she kept letting him do it for some reason, that fact didn't give him the right to be the boss of her.

"This," she pointed to him and herself with her free hand, "hasn't become a thing." He stepped closer, but she didn't back down. "This isn't more than what it's been—you and I are just kissing each other, and that's all!"

Her shirt, as skin-tight as ever, had rode up the flat plane of her stomach and his hand, now pressed on her side, was really, really warm. He was even closer than before, his eyes still alight, but slowly cooling over. "So, what." He said calmly. "If I make it more of a thing, right now, does that mean you'll take me seriously?"

Her eyes stared at him suspiciously, but she didn't say anything to the contrary.


He kissed her. His hands grabbed her hips and he leaned forward as she tried to move back and away. They slid over her bare back as his mouth continued to fight hers, pulling and sucking on her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open and plunging his tongue in, making her stumble a little. She willed her hands to move, but didn't push him away. They draped over his shoulders and touched his back and the short hairs on his head. Her eyes closed and she brought herself as close to him as possible, until the knot of her pelt brushed against him. And he continued what he was doing as she meshed her lips and body to him, albeit less aggressively than before.

He pulled away from her with the smack that had become a familiar whenever they kissed, but instead of pulling away, his mouth moved on to the hollow of her neck, kissing and gently suckling on her skin and trailing down to her collarbone. Korra felt his hands lifting up her shirt higher until his thumbs touched the underside of her breasts and bra. She felt herself blush as she realized what was happening, that he was taking her shirt off; there was already a thin sliver of sweat trailing its way down her spine...

She, no longer a virgin, had trailed off to sleep with no problem that night, her body naked and sticky with sweat, and the apex of her legs slick and warm and a little sore and satisfied from him. It was only after the second time, the first time she had woken him up in the middle of the night for more, again, that she had come up with the best way of describing what he had felt like to her.

A particularly bold glow from an orange streetlight, the one from the meat-packing factory, fell across the bed, starting at the foot, ending on Korra's left shoulder, and climbing over Mako's body in between that distance.

In the relative darkness, her blue eyes roamed over his sleeping figure. Mako liked sleeping on his back, which was perfect because she liked sleeping on her side to face him. He was really beautiful—his milky-white skin and even all the scratches and keloid skin that marred it; his lean yet muscular body; his mussed black locks; the curve of his eyebrow; and his eyelashes. His chest rose and fell smoothly; he breathed deeply, but never so much that he snored too loudly. Bolin almost literally slept like a rock in his room, outbursts of snores heard through the wall behind Mako's bed, never worried about being kicked out of a trashcan or abandoned building or cardboard box; the older brother slept lightly and strangely, intimately, with her. He never put distance between them. His left arm and shoulder made up her pillow, which made it easier whenever she felt like she could go again or decided she wanted to sleep.

Her body wiggled a bit and her leg brushed against his. He stirred. "Korra...what's wrong?" His whisper was thick and husky, yet impatient. She realized that he was sleep-talking.

She squirmed some more and as turned her head to stare at his jawline and his Adam's Apple, her lips accidentally brushed against his shoulder joint—not the best attempt in easing him out of sleep.

But it worked nonetheless.

His eyelids fluttered and his brow furrowed, stubbornly intent on not opening again, but automatically failing as he felt her fingernails lightly scrape his hipbone. His own body was rousing itself out of sleep and his hand was already warm, sliding up her side. "Hey. Why're you awake?"

"I just can't sleep."

His eyes looked at her deeply and she avoided returning it with one of her own, her glance directed on his chest, the light color of his nipples, the creases of the blanket draped over them, and keeping his entire body from her view. It tickled when his fingers brushed against her ribs. She returned the gesture with one of her own, her hand brushing against his stomach.

Mako was never one for long conversations in the early morning and she could respect the sentiment, but instead of talking, he took to watching her instead. Once, after the maybe the third time when they had finally let all that awkwardness of the action itself and other things—Asami; the realization that this wasn't something they were doing accidentally; her final Avatar victory over Amon and what that meant in the aftermath; Mako's belief that he hesitated because of his selfless feelings for and loyalty to Bolin; that they were still teammates; that they still weren't dating and doing this whole 'I like/want you' thing by the book—stop being such monumental things, he had admitted that he liked watching her when it was dark. To him, she didn't carry her Avatar image and tough, brute strength into bed; she was all feminine and beautiful and cool. The words, whispered to her in the early morning, had been enough to make her feel warm all over again.

His arm slid from underneath her, and suddenly, her head was pressed against the pillows and he was hovering over her. "Do you want to...?"

He had more or less warmed up the sheets already, yellow-brown eyes flaring up—human, pulsing, living, fire.

Yes, she did. Of course she did.

Her hand moved further down his body, over that well-defined cut she liked that led to him getting ready and hard for her. A sound of pleasure came from his throat as her fingers brushed through his trim hairs and against him. He was throbbing and twitching and hot. Her hand moved back and forth on his length a few times before her thumb rubbed over his tip and felt something wet. He was already starting to cover her fingers with his thick, sticky fluid.

"Korra." His voice sounded tight. "Stop." He wanted to dominate this time and because it suited him and her thoughts so well, she let him.

Mako crawled, hovered over her, his forearms resting on either side of her head and his eyes boring into hers. His mouth captured hers softly, then with more passion, and moved down her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut and she felt like the fire of him branded her with his lips, singed her with his heavy breaths, and licked at her with his tongue. There was a soft, suckling sound and somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged the fact that he was leaving marks on her skin and she'd have to heal them before anyone else saw her tomorrow.

She whimpered as he slid down, and his hands, rough with callouses, grabbed at her breasts and kneaded them. His head dipped, kissing her chest and heading southward, only to go left and take her nipple in his mouth. She inhaled sharply and shuddered at the feeling, her hands moving respectively to muffle her sighs and rest on his back. Her legs shifted to bend at the knee, rest her soles on the mattress, and spread herself open a little, already wanting the foreplay to be done, her thighs resting at either side of his torso. But she wasn't really in control. Her body quaked again as he gave her right breast the same attention.

Her eye cracked open as she felt him continue trailing down and touch the curls on her crown. He brought himself up and rested his hands on her knees slowly, trailing the inside of her thighs and parting her legs more until she felt the cold air. She tried not to laugh—he was speeding a little; he, or rather, his tongue, usually spent more time down there.

A chorus of sounds escaped her mouth as she felt his finger slip inside her.

"You're already wet, Korra." Mako's voice was teasing but unsurprised. He stirred inside her, let her wetness coat his finger, adding another inside her and rubbing his thumb over her clit and she gasped. "And really warm, too."

She writhed and pulled at his gently-used bedsheets, barely aware of him unknowingly countering her theory. Her voice trying to call his name only came out as a gasp. "...moveyour...fingers." Her voice quavered and for all her strength, it took her so much effort to bring herself to an upright position.

He moved inside her a few more times before pulling out once and for all, done with the foreplay for the night. Gripping her bottom to push her towards the back wall, the moment she couldn't go back any further, he neared and practically loomed over her, ready to consume her. They didn't speak, their eyes opting to watch as his hands opened her legs just a bit wider and rubbed against her before finally slipping inside. She could feel her body fit around him, his every throb, every inch, his thickness. He didn't move just yet; he liked to make her slowly burn from the inside out. Her back arched and her chest pressed against his. His lips kissed hers, swallowing that tiny but high-pitched scream she made as he buried himself further, his touch so familiar, so hot. She squeezed around him and felt relief as he brushed the wet strands of her hair away from her face.

Again came that chorus, but it slowly tapered off as she realized the pace she felt was glorious, but too slow for her. He pulled almost all of the way out and then went in slowly. Again. Again...again...again. There, there, there, there...right there. The sounds coming from his throat were a gruff staccato as moved his hips, his muscles taut. His hands hooked under her knees, pushing them up, lifting her feet up and changing the angle he entered her. His head pressed against the wall as he continued moving in and out of her.

Her lips pressed against his Adam's Apple, felt it bob as he swallowed, her hands on the small of his back. Korra felt her own body heating up still like crazy, tears of pleasure slithering outside of her closed eyes. Her right hand gripped his side and her left his back. He was slick with sweat; she didn't have to look at him to hear his grunts speeding up. "Mako...Mako...don't go slow anymore," she murmured. The whiteness behind her eyes was there, but it wouldn't explode into color until he was ready. But he was speeding up now and she was already beginning to come, practically begging him to allow her to do so. She grabbed his shoulders and began to meet his strokes, to put out the fire coursing through them.


The scream she felt rip through her was silent, made her throat burn and fingernails dig into his shoulders. Red, orange, and yellow—the colors of fire she always saw as her body rode out her climax. She felt herself quiver, lonely without him filling her up, as he slid outside her and came himself, his seed thick and burning hot on her stomach.

Their heavy, tired breathing was the only sound made in the room for a few minutes, the sweat drying on their skin. She doubted if she could even move.

Her eyes finally opened to see him turtleduck walk into the bathroom and return with a damp washcloth, wiping her body clean of his release as best as he could before throwing the rag aside until morning and collapsing on the bed. Eyes shut, he reached for her, brought her closer, his palm on her hip once more. His skin was like a warm ember under hers as he relaxed; his breathing was already evening itself out.

Her eyes closed lazily as she felt him relax under her; she dreamed about fire and color and him and woke up a few hours later to see pretty much the same. As they heard Bolin sleepily beg Pabu to stop bothering him, that he was still tired and that it was Saturday and no one got up early on Saturday, Mako turned to her and told her how much she had sighed and how hot she had felt—all of which only served to disprove her theory.

But then she decided that it wasn't a big deal. She was a Waterbender, but also The Avatar and could afford to be the exception to her own rule.

A dirty version of "Korra's Theory" part of my fanfic "Shots of Green, Red, Gold, and Blue". If you liked this, please read that!