Asami forced herself to sit upright in the large, plush chair set at pride-of-place at the boardroom's large oval table, and clasped her hands, resting them lightly on the cool wooden surface. On the outside, she was every bit her father's daughter - calm and collected, curt or encouraging as necessary, leading the meeting as skillfully as ever. Under the surface - under her clothes and under her skin - she was a solid mass of bruises, scratches, and aching muscles, all left to heal the natural way.

Just as she liked it.

It had started with an innocent sparring session - Korra wanted to learn the non-bending techniques that Asami had trained in for most of her life. But the Avatar was not accustomed to losing, and Asami was not accustomed to handling an infuriated Avatar. More accurately, Asami was not accustomed to the way an infuriated Avatar seemed to set her whole body aflame, starting with her mind. The longer they fought the less focus she had, until every ounce of her energy was concentrated on getting Korra into a pin - just once, just for a moment. That's all it took.

And then Korra's hands were in her hair, nails in her skin, and the textured surface of the training room floor was leaving red imprints on her breasts, and she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. The feel of Korra's body moving over and against hers, the rough sound of her breathing as she took what was hers, even the sudden disorientation as she was flipped over - for a moment, she had to bite back a breathless giggle at the sudden thought of herself as a piece of meat on a grill - all of it was just what she wanted. But Korra didn't stop there, nor after the second, or third, or even fourth time one voice or another echoed back from the soundproofed walls. She didn't stop until Asami was nearly passed out, her body aching and utterly wrung out, her head lolling on her neck.

They slept just like that, naked and surrounded by discarded padding and the torn remnants of their clothes, and Asami woke to find Korra looking down at her, a strand of water dancing lazily in her cupped hand.

Asami grabbed her wrist, and the water collapsed into a small orb, shimmering softly under the lights.

"No," the heiress said, her tone final, "Don't you dare heal a thing."

Asami came back to herself, just in time to realize she'd missed the last several minutes of the meeting and a handful of board members had begun arguing. She stood up abruptly, biting her lip as her body protested vigorously.

"This meeting is over," she said shortly, "Either you come here ready to make agreements, or you don't come at all. I'll see you all at the next meeting, which I hope will be more productive."

She felt a little bad about blaming her own inattentiveness and lack of desire to chaperone her people on them, but she just couldn't get out of that room and back home fast enough - she'd probably be getting at least one speeding ticket in the mail later.

Yanking open the door to the training room, she found exactly what she'd been needing - Korra, her lean body moving with impossible grace through a sinuous waterbending form, which she brought to a hasty finish upon spotting her lover in the doorway.

They met in a rough tangle of lips and hands, both wincing as day-old bruises made themselves known.

"I changed my mind," Asami murmured against those delicious lips, "You can heal us…but only so we can do it all over again."

The twinkle in Korra's eyes was anything but innocent.

"Yes ma'am!"