pent up

by livingfailures

Summary:

Korra breaks one night.

Notes:

Something something age gap april —- that’s totally not months late atp .-.

I just wanna see them in situations:) Enjoy!

Her parents, Tenzin, Beifong, Katara. The white lotus, even. All of them repeatedly commented that keeping this marriage strictly political would be advisable. No romance, lust or love, as awkward as that conversation was. Korra’s pretty sure Tarrlok knew, but she wasn’t holding her breath for him to follow through.

Katara had pulled her aside days before her wedding, speaking candidly, “No consummating this marriage. It’ll be easier to separate from him in the future if you don’t.” As if she knew something Korra didn’t.

At this point, it’s been six months into this ‘marriage’ and the thought runs in circles, a constant reminder even on the toughest days. It’s supposed to be political, nothing more. An alliance of sorts between the North and South. A way to demonstrate that despite a rather fraught history, their political allegiance is important to a growing threat such as Amon and his equalists and blah, blah, blah.

This speech is drilled into her brain, for all the ‘training’ she had to go through for the tabloids and radio addresses. Truthfully, Korra wasn’t completely convinced that this was solely due to Amon’s revolution. Sure, it’s one component, considering her beloved husband has a hand in higher office in Republic City, but it’s been years since she’s heard Katara and her parents first broach the topic. Surely they couldn’t have predicted the Equalist movement two and a half years ago.

Since she turned sixteen, there were whispers of arranging a marriage between her and a northern white lotus member. While being in an arranged marriage wasn’t ideal in the slightest, at least it would’ve been with them. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? She’s known most of the white lotus her whole life. Frankly, with the exception of the older members, they were relatively fun.

But in retrospect, she hadn’t even realized why people would - or should - care if the Avatar married into the white lotus. 

Well, there was barely any time to dwell on it because it quickly fell through (not without having some fun on her own time with her first suitor, of course) and by the time she turned seventeen, they had locked a ‘husband’ for her. Unfortunately a Northern politician of all things unholy.

Korra had rolled her eyes at that when she found out. Whoever they were, they'd probably worked with Uncle Unalaq at some point, she cringed. Not that long after, unsurprisingly, she discovered her uncle proposed the idea, vouching for her soon-to-be husband named Tarrlok.

When she first met him he’d been the model dignitary. Going on and on about his political achievements, personal goals and honestly probably talking just to fill some dead air, but she could see right through him. There was a distinct sleaziness only politicians had and she whiffed it out from him in spades even if he pointedly avoided eye contact with her unless she spoke.

She told herself that this consummating thing wouldn’t be a problem. His opinions upset her enough that all libido she had from physical attraction died the second he opened his mouth. He was a northern man through and through. Very… traditional… despite that specific something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

He wasn’t overly masculine like her father, a touch feminine and that intrigued her considering the northern men she’s grown up around.

Early on in their marriage she kept an eye on him. Were men always this huffy over their appearance or is it just a peculiarity on Tarrlok’s part? Or maybe it was Republic City’s influence? She’s seen the guys in his rather small inner circle so it’d make sense. Korra quickly learned it’s merely one of his many quirks so she decidedly dropped the scrutiny with rolled eyes.

Yet the longer she spent in this predicament, Korra found it difficult to keep a sane mind with little stimulation and almost no privacy. Frustration began to surface.

Weeks turned to months. With Tarrlok it’s routine. A lot of it was rather lonely considering he spent most of his time at City Hall. But when he was home - she curses herself for calling it so - it was just bickering and more work and that stupid cologne he douses himself in and that insufferable smug attitude he has. Then all would be right as rain the next day. He’d make her breakfast and made sure she ate and even enjoyed her company before she left for Air Temple Island, all while sitting in the perfect beam of light to get that annoying fascination to stir in the pit of her stomach. Honestly, it’s giving her whiplash. She’s nearly at her limit because as much as that should make her happy - that he wasn’t being a malicious creep even though that’s also debatable at times - he shockingly hasn’t overstepped the boundaries they listed out for each other on her first day of moving into his home. 

Well, for the exception of his wandering eyes. He always looked like he wanted to say something. Or rather, do something.

As much as he tries to make her out to be, Korra isn’t stupid. She knows what that look entails. She’s seen it with Howl before she was oh-so-devoted to her ‘beloved’. 

One morning when he’d been watching her over the edge of a newspaper and she stood at the foot of the bed, stretching, she challenged him with a clipped, “What?” and all that followed was a smirk and a lilt to his voice, “Nothing, dear.” 

Ugh, then those pet names, too. There were times in public that he’d slip in a, my love or dear or even my wife, and she wanted to glare at him. The reminder made her flush. She’d tautly laugh it off with a hand curled into the crook of his arm… but in the privacy of their home? It always earned him a deep-rooted groan.

Which made it all the more irritating when she couldn’t fathom why she felt the tiniest shiver at the names. Not in aversion like it had been. Korra wanted to stomp petulantly at the slow, dawning realization that she wasn’t as strong as she insisted.

Then those lingering touches throughout the day at City Hall, or the gentle hand at the small of her back as he passed behind her, and the most exhilarating of all, when she outright challenges him on the council floor. There’s a dark glint in those icy eyes of his and she’s more than sure it’s mirrored in hers, considering the last instance Tenzin narrowed his flickering gaze towards both of them.

Suddenly Korra’s thinking of him in the same way he has looked at her. Silently longing to touch him, to tease him. It’d be so easy. He makes it so easy. 

As long as she didn’t act upon her thoughts there was still a way out of this marriage. Nothing wrong with a daydream… or two. Right?

Something breaks in her one night, not too long after she’s come to this unfortunate realization.

It’s a summer evening full of humidity and a power outage that led to candles being lit all around this ostentatious house of theirs. It’s storming outside and whether she likes it or not, the stifling heat is getting to her. Korra could make this quick and painless and adamantly ignore that restlessness in her womb by sending tiny flames to each candle… but something in her tells her he wouldn’t let this go. Apparently, the heat makes Tarrlok even more insufferable and bold.

She’s lost some layers in favor of something looser, shorter, and Tarrlok even opted to follow suit. It’s odd seeing him in such a disheveled and casual state, but it’s not too unlike his formal garb that it throws her completely off balance. Regardless, it still appallingly does little to quell the overwhelming warmth tickling her cheeks.

Spirits, what’s wrong with her.

She chalks it up to the heatwave. They’re too close. Too much in each other’s presence for far longer than she anticipates that the warm glow and sharp shadows of the fire has him looking a little too attractive for her liking. The bastard probably knows it, too.

The smug glances he sends her way with each teasing quip don’t help in the slightest either. He must be thinking it too with the way his pale blue eyes glimmer salaciously and stray on her, lowering boldly to her lips. It’s when he clenches his jaw and barely stifles the self-assured smile that Korra moves on instinct.

It’s a lapse in judgment that causes her to plant her palms against his chest and kiss him. He freezes against her for no more than a mere second before the reciprocation doubles over her.

They haven’t kissed since their wedding… or actually that article that landed them the front page, debuting ‘their’ home.

Those kisses were chaste, though. Bland and taut and simply a courtesy to show they were a couple despite the nonstop tabloids blasting ‘political marriage’ on the headlines in the first month of their union. Nothing of her own volition.

These kisses they exchange now feel miles different. Passionate. Much to the same effect of first time lovers or what feels more apt: two people looking for a quick fuck.

Korra applies pressure to his chest and guides him back into their bed with a slight smirk.

Straddling him, she savors the solidness of his body against hers. It’s been too long since she’s felt this spontaneity and impatience. Not since Howl, anyways.

A part of her wants to dive headfirst into this and leave the talking and shame for another time when it’s less stifled and rational thought trickles into her brain. But just as she thinks of succumbing to this impulsiveness, Korra can feel the words wrapping around her again.

It’s a political marriage. 

She wants to curse. If they couldn’t do this properly, they’d have to get creative and the least he could do is look the part. Korra slips the ties out of his hair, distractedly placing them on the bedside table.

Tarrlok pulls away a fraction, breathless against her lips and helps her loosen the ties, “You know, Beifong will wring my neck for this.”

Korra bites his lower lip and grinds into him as the last ornament is haphazardly tossed to the side.

“Tch, Beifong? More like my dad if he finds out.” Tarrlok groans, whether it’s his inevitable future, or her moving hips… or a combination of both, Korra doesn’t pause to think much of it. “Hey, this isn’t, you know, consummating our marriage, right?” She asks as she deviates from his lips to feel the slightest stubble scraping against her, sucking at the sensitive skin of his neck and immersing herself in petrichor and sandalwood.

Korra only realizes how dumb she sounds after the words leave her mouth. With a glimpse of his face, the cogs were working in that mind of his that she wonders maybe he didn’t hear the plan for this marriage after all. But that couldn’t be right… right?

“… No. I’d need to be in you for it to count.”

Korra snorts. “Spirits, and you call me crass.”

“I answered your question!” He says defensively. Korra calms him down - after six months of being legally bound to him, she knows how to handle him - and opts to press a chaste kiss, cupping his cheeks until a deadpan look surfaces. “I thought you knew this?” He grumbles when she breaks away.

With a dismissive giggle, Korra toys with the loose tendrils of his hair. “I do! I just want to make sure. Everyone says that this isn't a normal marriage, that it’s political, but I don’t really know what’s normal or not, so…” She draws out, hoping he understood.

Skeptical, Tarrlok observes her for a moment before a shit-eating grin forms and his thumb traces small patterns against her hip. “My dear, just because this is a political arrangement that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. We’re hardly the first nor the last to be in an arranged marriage and want to indulge.” He says slyly, his fingers inching up, up, up. Korra flushes, unexpectedly rendered speechless, especially when he brazenly follows it up by mimicking her and presses teasing kisses along the column of her neck. “I’d also like to point out that ending this marriage should you see to it in the future can still be feasible if we ever did consummate. Not sure if the white lotus ever mentioned that to you.” 

They had not. A shiver runs down her spine, both at his words and the slight scrape of his teeth against her artery. Temptation is there in spades. “…Good to know.”

Korra pulls him by the nape and smashes her lips to his in one of the sloppiest kisses she’s had. His hand slowly trails underneath her loose shirt and impatiently she grasps and guides his palm over her bound breasts. Tarrlok must’ve liked that because he groans into her mouth, blindly finding the edge of her binding and unravels it.

It doesn’t take long before they’re both panting, losing themselves in each other. His hands, large and warm cup her bared breasts from underneath her shirt and Korra doesn’t know if she can keep this facade up much longer before she caves in and lets him see all of her. Just as she’s thinking it, his hands rove downward to the ties of her shorts and instantly stops once they’re loosened.

Restlessness licks hotter at her nerves. The bastard.

I don’t want him, I just want this feeling out of my system. It’s been too long. Korra tells herself even though she’s itching to moan his name and palm him through his clothes especially when he sucks on the sensitive skin just below her jawline. She completely ignores the fact that she unfortunately fantasizes about him and grows frustrated with herself when that detail gets overbearing, resulting in a cramped hand and a release that’s out of her reach. Yet again.

Begrudgingly, acknowledging that now doesn’t dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, it intensifies for reasons beyond her comprehension.

Tarrlok grunts, a pained yet pleasurable look crosses his face and Korra wants to do everything to keep it like that. She may not be nearly as experienced as him - he’s probably had a twenty year advantage on his part - but she knows a thing or two about this.

Impulsively, Korra feels the clothed expanse of his chest, nails catching on the buttons still clasped together.

The rhythm is familiar despite the last she’s been with another person being a year apart. Her hips rotate and roll with each heavy grind against him and Tarrlok sinks further back until he keeps a hand behind him for leverage and the other stays clenched around her waist.

Korra seizes the opportunity and breaks the kiss. A light, too-innocent graze of her palm passes over their groins. It feels amazing on her sensitive skin and she wants to do more than be a tease. Her fingers play coyly with the button of his trousers as she quietly savors the tented fabric. As long as he’s not in her right?

Emboldened, Korra undoes his trousers and slips a deft hand, feeling the weight and length of him even through his undergarments. Tarrlok groans, shakily gulping when she pumps him in tandem to her grinding hips.

She can tell he’s holding back with the way his grip tightens, can see the question in his darkened gaze. Tarrlok gasps at the friction. “S-surely you’re not a complete innocent.”

Korra huffs out in amusement. “Just once,” Or five times, but she’s decidedly not divulging that to anyone.

“Huh-“ Before he can say more - and she knows he would - she kisses him, tongue meeting his. In the haze of want, there’s unspoken words between them that clearly tells her he doesn’t believe the lie, and yet she can feel him grow harder beneath her ass. It seems it still turns him on regardless if she’s been in bed with someone other than him or a virgin.

It’s when she starts to bounce against him that the tether holding him back threatens to snap. He hides his flushed face at the crook of her neck, panting hot breaths as she works him into a frenzy. Even with his trousers and her shorts separating them Korra can feel rigidness that prods her relentlessly between her fingers, the desperate want to be cradled within her apparent.

The humidity is growing unbearable, sweat beading above her brow. She wants to peel the layers off and indulge, but they had an agreement, set in stone over the past year and a half. How easily they could break it in this moment of weakness.

The pace increases. Korra’s chasing her pleasure, listening to the mixture of shuffs of clothing rubbing together and his gasps and grunts and her whimpers and moans for more. Again and again. Abruptly, she releases her grip on him and bites his lip.

Urging him back, Tarrlok acquiesces and lays against the flurry of mussed sheets, caged in by Korra’s arms. With the changed angle, she wishes he was in her. She wishes she could feel the intensity of his thrusts pounding into her, the lack of restraint and his crumbling dignity - their dignity, her brain corrects. She wishes she can hear the lewd, rhythmic plap, plap, plap of their hips clashing together combined with the mind-numbing sound of their weight creaking the bed. The image in her brain alone sends lances of heat down her spine as he grasps tightly to her hips.

Spirits, she’s so close. Apparently he is too judging by how rigid he is against her ass, but this isn’t about him. She’s selfish, going faster and harder against him that Tarrlok pulls away a fraction to watch her. There’s a salacious glimmer in pale blue but it’s overtaken by a rawness that she hasn’t ever seen from him the closer they get to their inevitable peak.

Korra stiffens, moaning out his name even past the too obvious fact that she spasms over rigid nothingness. Yet despite it, it feels like a well deserved climax after months of it escaping her reach. She savors it, rolling with each wave and clutching onto him.

She’s riding the rest of her high and he’s incapable of resisting, following her like a siren’s call, shuddering. With a white knuckled grip to her hips, Tarrlok releases a strangled groan. Korra lazily moves with him, feeling the slight twitch beneath her. His eyes flutter and lose focus with pinched brows that she distantly thinks she could get used to seeing his face amid an orgasm.

Breathless and exhausted, Korra flops beside him. A heavy silence blankets them despite her gaze moving on their own accord, looking at the evidence he left behind on his lap. A patch of wetness spreading just perfectly over his groin. 

Embarrassed, Tarrlok looks off to the side and clears his throat with a clench of his jaw. “That hasn’t happened since I was a teenager.” He says hoarsely.

Korra absentmindedly nods, “Don’t I feel special.” She quips teasingly, considering him and the situation they got themselves into. There should’ve been some clarity that hits her like a ton of bricks like it normally does. Why him? Why did she think this was a good idea? What’s wrong with her to think this is hot? But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, she’s still high on the feel of his body against hers even though she’s idly staring at the ceiling. Seconds tick by in silence as she catches her breath. Korra licks her dry lips. Then a beat later, “Hypothetically… if we did… have sex… and if we wanted to separate… how much different would the process be?” She doesn’t know why she flushes at mentioning sex when they weren't that far off from doing the act itself.

Tarrlok chuckles. “Unless we end up having a child from this, no one would actually know we’ve consummated… And if we did bring a child into this, there’d be a bit more paperwork and it’d take a bit longer since there’s also the matter of who keeps the child and for how long, but the process is relatively the same nonetheless.” 

Korra hums.

Her mind is already set, truth be told. The idea of adding a kid into this mess would undoubtedly be the last thing they both wanted. Korra doesn’t even think she’s ready to become a mother, she’s only nineteen. But nothing some tea could help, right? They’d both just have to be on top of it, keep each other in check, she rationalizes.

With the newness of it all, her interest rekindles (has been since she witnessed his face midst a climax) and the thought of Tarrlok fucking his spend into her causes her to gulp, her nerves restless and ardently wanting to experience it herself.

Feeling eyes on her, Korra meets his on instinct and that salaciousness returns tenfold. Without wasting any time, Korra pulls him closer by the mussed shirt, already feeling that steadily growing bulge between them. “Fuck it.”

Korra’s already kissing him and tugging him over her, one thing and one goal at the forefront of her mind as she starts unclasping the buttons of his shirt. “Wait, wait, wait.” He huffs urgently, stopping her fingers from going further.

“What?” She asks curtly, breathless.

A satisfied smirk lines his lips as he disentangles himself from her grip and moves lower between her legs. Korra flushes, embarrassed at his wordless intentions. “I’ve been restraining myself for the sake of propriety. And now that I finally have you where I want you… may I?” His grip on her legs rove up and settle on her hips.

He’s been wanting to do this? Is that why he looks at her the way he does? Has he been imagining eating her out?

Swallowing shakily, she nods. No longer than seconds pass before he tugs at her shorts, undergarments following, and she bares herself to him. As wet as she is, she should feel mortified to have him gazing upon her like that - like a man starved - but with the touch of his mouth against her, thoughts quickly fade away with a moan.

—-

Korra wakes with a bare arm loosely curled around her waist. Cerulean blearily gazes out the window, thankful that it’s still dark and she can still indulge in the intimate quiet hours of early morning.

She turns in his arms to face him. Even though he’s still sleeping, Korra cuddles closer to him, thinking, subtly inhaling his scent and nuzzles the small space at the crook of his neck. In the quiet of the morning, soft patters of rain hit the window and numbs her brain, mulling over the intensity that took hold of them hours ago. It’s ridiculous thinking back to her adamantly insisting nothing of the sort would happen, let alone the way he barely hid his want for her over the past six months… maybe even longer.

A smile curves her lips, remembering the way he lost his composure and pounded into her when she clenched around him and moaned out her demand for him to fuck her harder.

A loud snore escapes Tarrlok. Maybe this wasn’t going to be that bad.