They speak in sighs and challenges, knowing that their fears are no longer unfounded. Lips injure and lock, judging and claiming, each kiss more desperate than the last.

This is for cheating in the tournament hers say, this is for giving up on me. And his are much the same. This is for denying me when we first met. This is for failing to save me. Accusations and affirmations, the delicious torment of past and present merging, of two bodies balanced between the benches in an abandoned arena, reliving their lost youth as they writhe and flex, pushing against one another as though they're all that's left in this world.

Metal digs into the front of Korra's thighs as Tahno shoves her against one of the benches and she grunts her displeasure. It goes unheeded as he takes hold of her ponytail and draws her head back, his lips ghosting over the shell of an ear, a tongue flicking out: tasting, teasing…promising.

"So glad you decided to join me," he murmurs, voice low and throaty, and Korra bucks against him, seizing the moment to throw him off, loving and hating him as he remains steadfast against her.

It is the only spark between them now, this hatred that flows into something more, a demon called lust that sears their flesh when they touch, hand against hand, thigh against thigh as he nudges her legs apart and presses himself between them.

Their fingers tangle together, holding fast as he enters her without warning.

Korra refuses to make a sound, she's far too stubborn to let on that she's enjoying this, but she needs it just the same. They both do.

Only their mingled breaths gives them away, harsh and shallow as they ride wave after wave of pleasure, seeking the rush of a tide that no longer lives within them, making do with a close second. They bend, but do not truly bend, break but do not truly break. And when he finally stills and softens within her, Korra accuses him of blood bending, though neither of them possesses that skill any longer.