A/N: Again, this was written for a prompt issued by Korrawr on tumblr. This time, I chose "high tide". Enjoy!

Tidal

Wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead, Korra looks out onto the sea, which is calm and tranquil. The waves roll in, slow and steady, and gently, they break against the sandy shore, erasing her footprints. Her heart sings, calling out to the water, which swirls around her feet, the white foam a stark contrast to her dark skin.

It's hot – almost unbearably so. She's become accustomed to the heat so unlike the climate in which she was born and raised, but it's never been this hot before. Her tank top clings to the small of her back, drenched in salty sweat that slicks her skin, and her hair is a right mess, made frizzy by the humidity, which is thick and pressing.

She doesn't like it here. Not when it's like this.

These are the times when she longs for home and the thrilling rush of the arctic air as it glides over her exposed features and sneaks through the folds of her clothes. If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine the cool radiance of the ice beneath her feet and the way the snow feels when it slips down the back of her collar.

It doesn't help the heat or the way it makes her feel sick to her stomach. With a groan, she gathers her long hair and pushes it over her shoulder, wishing that her last hair tie hadn't snapped earlier that morning when she and Pabu were shooting pebbles at Mako while he was reading. If she had known it would be this hot this early in the afternoon, she wouldn't have done it.

Well, probably not. The sharp look on his angular face alone was worth it.

Almost.

Korra wades just a little further into the water until it saturates the hem of her pants, which are rolled up to her knees, and the flecks of water dot her thighs as the waves crest and then crash against her. The deeper she gets, the better it feels, the water encapsulating her with its welcoming caress, soothing and soft and serene. Her hands dance over the surface, calling the water to her. Slowly, it twists up her arms, inch by inch until her entire upper body is covered.

In the water's embrace, she feels relaxed, far calmer than she has in the past few weeks, and the aches, the deep ones that she doesn't even know exist, begin to subside. She feels lighter, weightless almost, and, swallowing a breath of air, she disappears beneath the surface, finding the serenity she was seeking.

She stays underneath the water until her lungs burn and the pressure in her chest becomes unbearable. Calling upon the water, she uses it to propel herself to the surface and when she breaks, she's laughing, a sound that carries all the way to the shore where Mako is stretched out on his back, basking in the heat that beats down from above.

At the sound of her laughter, he pushes himself to his elbows and looks out onto the sea. Her hair is dark and slicked back, a contrast to the brightness of the water, yet she manages to outshine it. Her smile is visible from her and her laughter is infectious. A chuckle escapes him as he calls out, "How's the water?"

"Magnificent!" she returns, lifting a graceful arm and bending a whip of water his way, which he blocks with ease, sending droplets of water in every direction, including his hair. He shakes out the water, his nose wrinkled in distaste. He's such a baby when it comes to his hair. Tilting her head back, Korra laughs again, the coolness of the water breathing new life into her tired body. "You should join me, Flame-o!"

He pulls a face at the nickname, something that he used to hate but has now become attached to. Not that he would ever admit it to Korra. Or anyone, for that matter. "Only if you stop calling me!" he shouts, but even as he says the words, Mako is tugging his shirt loose from his pants and makes quick work of it, pulling it over his head and discarding it on the sand.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Korra catcalls a shout of praise, and he rolls his eyes. However, he can't ignore the blush that creeps onto the back of his neck and not for the first time, he's thankful for her distance as he would never hear the end of it if she caught him blushing.

"Come on, pretty boy! You're taking too long!" She summons another whip of water with ease and raises her arm threateningly, though there's a teasing smile on her face.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Mako says as he steps out of his trousers, kicking them to the side. Again, she catcalls him and he makes a showy display of rolling his eyes as he walks towards the water.

Korra would be a liar is she says she doesn't appreciate the way the water glistens on his chest as the waves lap at his skin, accentuating the hard planes of his stomach and the sharp cut of his hips. When he sucks in a sharp breath at the coolness of the sea (it's not even cold, he's just a great big Firebending wuss), his abdominal muscles contract and it takes everything in her not to gasp with him. It's nothing she hasn't seen before, nothing she hasn't felt before, but he's in her element now – literally. She can feel in him the water, all hard lines and lean sinewy, and she can feel the way he moves, graceful and sleek, through the water, and it feels like he's moving through her. Her heart beats the tattoo of the waves as they crash on the shore; she drags her tongue over her lips to lick them, the salt harsh and bitter on her taste buds.

The water's not even up to his shoulders when he swims out to her, but somehow most of his hair is wet, the tendrils at the nape of his neck clinging to the skin there. Once he's near enough to see the clear blue of her eyes (the sea pales in comparison) Mako splashes water at her, but she's so distracted by the pull deep in her abdomen and the wild dance of her heartbeat that she doesn't notice until there's a taste of salt in her mouth and she's sputtering.

"Oh, you asked for it!" she laughs, lunging for him with everything she's got.

Even though water is her thing, he's got the upper hand here if only because he can touch the bottom. Or at least that's what he tries to tell himself as Korra pounces at him, manipulating the water so it acts as springboard. He throws his arms up with every intention of pushing her away and maybe splashing her again, but her skin is slick and his hands are wet, and to be quite honest, he's not the most comfortable in the water, despite being with her. So instead of pushing her away, his hands slip in their grip on her forearms until his hands are on her shoulders. Her momentum is too much to accommodate for, so her body collides with him.

It's not graceful and it's hardly romantic as they slip against one another, struggling to pull away from the mess of tangle limbs and too much closeness. It's pointless as Mako's footing is upset by the offset. Before either can pull away, they both sink under the water.

Despite the salty burn, Korra opens her eyes and finds the golden gaze she's come to admire staring back at her. The angle of his cheekbones is made less severe in the soft light and the permanent furrow of worry in his brow is all but erased from existence. He doesn't look completely at peace, but there's tranquility in his expression and honesty in his eyes as they regard one another. A bubble of air slips through his lips as she links her fingers through his, the current catching her hair and combing through it gently.

There's no way to measure the time they spend underneath the water, staring at each other, but it's over before she wants it to be, their mutual need of oxygen the only reason why they break. Korra slips her hand out of his grasp to push her hair out of her face, using her other arm to tread the water. Once her bangs are smoothed against the crown of her head, she blinks, bending the salty water out of her eyes. When she opens them, she's shocked to find Mako staring at her.

The sunlight catches the gold in his eyes and it casts a shadow over the left side of his face, but his expression has never been clearer. Slowly, he drags his tongue over his bottom lip, his gaze focusing on her – or more specifically, her lips, the bottom of which is between her teeth. Even with the roll and sway of the sea, she can feel him moving towards her, the warmth he radiates calling out to her. She feels the tug in her stomach – the tug she has mistaken for the high tide – but she doesn't move. Her body feels heavy and weightless all at once, and when the weight and the warmth of his arm settles against the small of her back, Korra's breath hitches in her throat.

"Mako-"

He doesn't silence her with a kiss or a look, but rather a touch. Water dripping from his fingers, he lifts his hand to her face. His fingers are rough with calluses, which are oddly soothing against her skin as he traces the length of her cheekbone and the line of her jaw, the slow glide of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Her lips part slightly when the pad of his thumb brushes over the pillow of her mouth.

There's a question in his sharp eyes as his gaze passes over her face, taking in her features as though he's memorizing them. Perhaps he is or maybe he's just searching for an answer to put him out of their mutual misery. Either way, she finds his eyes and gives a small nod, the top of his thumb pressing into the swell of her lips. But the weight of it is gone; his fingertips trace a light path down the side of her throat before he settles his palm against the curve of her neck.

The heat is unbearable, but not in the way that the day's heat was. It radiates to her core, burning up her insides until she feels like the only thing that'll grant her any relief is the feel of his mouth against her own. So she cuts the bullshit and closes the gap between them, her own hands gripping at the back of his neck.

As far as kisses go, it's hardly the most elegant, what with their eagerness and the taste of salt that mars the flavor of the other person, but the feel of his body against her as they're swathed in the blanket of the ocean is incredible, unlike anything she has ever felt before. It makes her toes curl and when he slips his tongue into her mouth; she feels a burst of fire in her belly and latches onto him tightly, deepening the kiss and the hold he's got over her.

Not even the threat of the high tide can pull them apart, though eventually they break like the waves on the shore, gently and peacefully. His breath is hot against her raw lips, which the salt stings, and his forehead burns, but she relishes the heat, her fingers toying with the soft tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck.

A/N: Can't stop, won't stop. This pairing has literally got me begging for mercy. I can't quit writing them! Feedback is much appreciated!