[CYCLE OF DEBAUCHERY]- Trick or Treat

by. phel-from-grace

An oil lamp perched on the bedside table was the first thing that she noticed when her eyes fluttered open. Adjusting to the relative darkness, she watched the thick particles of dust float in the weak light, while her bare ass registered the dry texture of moth-fly-eaten bedsheets so brittle that they would crack at the slightest movement. The musky scent of the room made it difficult to breathe, but the heavy atmosphere could not compare to the weight of her limbs— inert and absolutely useless—as she tried to cover her exposed chest and close her parted legs. Frustrated by the futile attempt, she grunted loudly, realising that at least her voice was still functional.

"I thought you were saving me for last."

The broad-shouldered hooded figure, barely visible in the shadows, did not immediately respond to her callous tone. She glared menacingly at his poised back, but when the shape of his silhouette shifted, her confidence immediately vanished and the fear forced her eyes shut. The floorboard creaked ominously while the steady steps grew louder.

"What do you fear?" The deep voice caused her to sweat. "The loss of your bending, or perhaps… something else?"

A large palm hovered over her face and she wished that her sixth sense would go numb, so that she wouldn't have to feel every agonizing palpitation of his suffocating aura. The hand descended— this was it, she thought— but the thumb did not press onto her forehead. Instead, it brushed away the messy strands of her bangs, gently, like combing a precious doll.

"Avatar. Has your blocked chi rendered you mute?" His fingers trailed over her lips, then down to her throat that bobbed, gulping nervously under his feather touch. "Is it even fear that you are experiencing?"

He cupped her left breast, massaging deeply in search for her heart. "Or is it excitement?"

Korra always knew that Amon possessed great martial skill, but she never considered the other uses of his dexterity, in other contexts such as her current predicament. The hand seemed to have a mind of its own, bold and unrestrained, which contrasted greatly with his normally stoic demeanour. She kept her eyes firmly shut, to further ease the denial of letting the man of her nightmares fondle her in ways that she was too embarrassed to even fathom; she managed to delude herself, pretending that this was in fact the works of a naughty spirit, especially when the fingers ventured down to her uncharted territory.

"You're already wet for me." Her sensitive nub throbbed under his incessant strokes. "But let us see if it can be surpassed."

His tongue shot out and Korra could no longer stay quiet: her loud excited moan answered his question. Just like his prowess as a fighter, she also learned that a great orator held talents beyond eloquent speeches. She could not argue with the words that rolled off his tongue.

Feeling brave and slightly deviant, she took a peek since the thought of this Amon no longer terrified her. Her gaze bypassed her swollen bare breast, across her glistening abs, and finally met the top of his hood lodged between her thighs held upright by his firm grasp. Lips curving into a smirk, she wanted to laugh out loud, but the elation was stripped from her in that same instant- Amon looked up.

She screamed in horror, desperate to tear away from the clutches of this creature. She had been expecting scars, maybe even an altered version of the mask, but she could never anticipate such a monstrosity. Under the hood, the 'face' was comprised of innumerable outstretched arms, like the hands of dead souls reaching out of a single well, desperate to grab a living being and feel once more. High-pitched laughter of overlapping voices filled the room, threatening to burst Korra's eardrums and she almost missed the smooth baritone of her enemy's.

One of the arms extended, its spindly fingers circling around her neck with its black claws digging into the sides, tugging harder until she was gasping for air. Completely paralysed, her body could no longer fend off the darkness.

Falling into the void, she listened to the loud tick of a clock.

Korra woke up holding her own throat, the cold sweat dripping between her fingers. She rubbed her clammy hands against her shirt, grateful that she was indeed fully clothed with functional limbs, but the eerie silence left her unsettled. Restlessly fidgeting in place, the bedspring squeaked from her antics, and her back straightened in alarm. At Air Temple Island, she slept on a thin futon over a wooden frame; this was not her bed.

Upon instinct, she opened her fist to summon a flame, but her palm only met the thin air that she could not even bend. It finally dawned onto her that she was not alone in the dank room, and after the nightmare that she had endured, she surprisingly felt well-rehearsed, with an upsurge of courage. No spirit could haunt her in the waking world.

"I thought you were saving me for last."

A dark figure emerged from the shadows, and despite her confidence, she still flinched at his imposing form.

"Are you not aware of the reason that I have dragged you here?" he asked neutrally, no sign of threat or intimidation.

"I'm pretty sure it's to imprison me and take away my bending."

He sighed. "Did the spirit not inform you?"

"What spirit?"

Amon rubbed his temples, shaking his head in disbelief, and Korra raised a brow at his display of human body language. It somewhat eased her fear, in fact, she was beginning to wonder if this entire charade was another figment of her imagination.

"So the spirit did not visit you," he said to himself in defeat.

"Well, I had a weird dream before waking up here, and I think it was the work of a spirit. It felt too real to be just any ordinary nightmare."

Amon piped up. "If you are aware of the situation, why did you not answer my question earlier?"

"Cuz I have no idea what the hell you're talking about! Aside from seeing some creepy things, the spirits haven't said anything to me… in fact, for all my life, the only spirits that I've seen are the moon and the fish in the oasis!"

"Those aren't even spirits; they're incarnations!" he yelled impatiently, effectively shocking Korra. "Are you really the Avatar? Or perhaps just an imposter with the rare skill of being able to bend three of the four elements?"

"Hey!" she exclaimed, peeved by the source of her insecurities. "If my bending is not what you're after, why the fuck have you kidnapped me?!"

He stayed silent, so she continued to rant. "If the mighty spirits have chosen you to usher some stupid new era, why don't you just contact them?! Instead of creeping in a teenage girl's bedroom and abducting her in the middle of the night like some perverted coward."

"May I remind you that I did not 'creep' into your bedroom. I ambushed you while you were strolling in the city, presumably after a dinner date with your friends."

"Oh gosh, same shit!" She mustered the courage to stand up, trying not to get intimidated by his towering height. "If you haven't dragged me here for a fight to end this, I'm leaving now."

Korra walked passed him and he grabbed her wrist. "I cannot let you leave."

She glared at him. "Spit it out."

"A spirit has placed a curse on the both of us. If we do not succumb to its demands, we will be terminated."

"You're lying."

"I am not. There should be a marking of a clock on your back. When it reaches full circle, after 24 hours, I presume that our lives will meet their end."

"Ya know, I always thought you were nuts for hating bending, but now I just think you're full out insane."

His eyes narrowed from behind the mask, and before Korra could react, she was hoisted off her feet. Propped onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he carried her to the dingy bathroom, throwing her to the ground, in front of the broken mirror above the sink. "Take off your shirt and inspect your back," he commanded.

"No."

With his infamously inhuman reflexes, he grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt, pulling it up to reveal her bound breast; Korra may have been fully covered by the wrappings, but it did not quell the embarrassment. He then pivoted her on-spot, cupping her cheek to force her face towards her reflection.

She gasped loudly. "Holy spirits! There's a clock on my back!"

"Yes, Avatar. Now that you have your proof, I was hoping that you can enter the Spirit World and solve this problem. That way, we will not have to resort to the method suggested by the spirit in question."

"Wait, what? Haven't you gotten the memo by now? I can't access my spiritual side!" Korra panicked, no longer self-conscious of her bare chest. "What's the other option? I can do anything, as long as it's physical."

"I suppose we should accept death. Maybe this is all a nightmare." Amon retreated from the bathroom, posture a little slumped which was a highly refreshing sight for Korra.

"Hang on, I am not risking anything," she said, tailing behind him. "It can't be that bad. Who is this spirit and what do they want?"

"I am still in awe by your ineptitude. If only you could access the Spirit World…or rather, I would be grateful if you were at least able to let the spirit speak to your impenetrably hard-headed mind. It would save me the trouble."

"Oh, boo-hoo. Quit beating around the bush and tell me what we gotta do."

He paced around and the floor did not creak as loudly as it did in her nightmare. A small window on the adjacent wall let in a cool breeze, with the streetlight filtering in through the drapes that swayed from the relaxing air. This ordeal was unfortunately not an illusion.

"I am no expert, but I clearly remember the details of its visit last night. The spirit is a vile creature, with a face filled with outstretched arms. It seems to be very needy, insatiable, and in constant longing for the ability to 'feel'. It essentially feeds off the emotions and experiences of the living.

"With its high-pitched overlapping voices, a bit like a female chorus, it told me that I must consolidate with my enemy, or else we will both suffer from their wrath."

Korra shivered, recalling the memory of getting choked by the creepy spirit of similar description. "What do you mean by consolidate?"

"The spirit, who goes by the name Amorra, was rather direct in their plight. To quote their exact words, and pardon my language, they said 'fuck or die'—

"WHAT?!" Korra interjected, eyes bulging and jaw hanging. A bolt of lightning nearly struck behind her.

"Yes, Avatar. It is ridiculous. However, their last condition further complicates the affair: we must both enjoy the activity."

"This better not be some sorry hoax to get in bed with me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

From the repulsion in his tone, to his less-than-perfect posture, she could tell that he wasn't keen on the idea, and they had hit a stalemate. Korra however hated walking around in circles like a dim-witted turtleduck; she took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. "So, I'm guessing I don't need to put my shirt back on?"

A/N:

Yes, the premise is dumb and my prose is subpar. It's an excuse for the string of awkward lemons that I have in store for you guys. But alas, I'm behind on my writing- I need to write the other prompts for Amorra week- so I'll get back to this after!