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la vie en rose (heureux, heureux à en mourir)

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Princess Korra doesn’t slam the door to her chambers- she’s far too dignified for that, no matter what her disapproving tutors say about her- but it’s a close thing. 

She throws her evening gown off haphazardly- technically, she should wait for Asami to undress her properly, but she’s feeling like she’d rather be alone to parse out her feelings on the matter. After wiggling her way out of her undergarments (and being very dignified about it, thank you very much) and slipping into an icy blue silk robe, she slumps into the seat in front of her vanity where Asami does her hair every morning and tries not to look too hard at her own reflection. Her deep brown eyes dully blink back through the confusion of it all. 

An arranged marriage. Honestly, she’s always sort of known it was coming. Another role that goes along with being the princess, no different from Latin tutoring and corsets- expected of her, but not made any more pleasant by that fact. Prince Mako , she thinks vaguely, trying desperately to remember if she’s ever seen him at any balls. The thought of a tall, sulky man with severe eyebrows and a permanent scowl affixed to his face bubbles to the surface, and Korra sighs. It would be her luck that she’d be paired up with another royal with a reputation for making life difficult for his tutors. They probably stuck us together because they figured no one else would want to put up with us , Korra sulks, knowing damn well arranged marriages do not work like that but indulging in the self pity of it all nonetheless.

Her fingers drift idly over to the braided purple cord attached to a bell that she can pull to summon Asami. She supposes the members of her court would disapprove of her discussing the details of the marriage with her handmaiden, and disapprove further if they knew just how close Princess Korra and Asami had become over the years.  

Before she can even decide to pull the cord, however, a soft knock comes at the chamber door and Korra stands, turning, to see Asami enter the doorway. She’s holding a tray with a teapot and two cups balanced on it and wearing a simple pale purple dress that falls prettily off her form. Korra really struck gold with how pretty her handmaiden is, she thinks distractedly, remembering conversations with other royalty at balls and galas about strict, elderly handmaidens with stringy grey hair and rough fingers, who never make conversation. Asami has long, black hair that cascades around her shoulders, and she always wears it loose, so when she’s standing beside Korra getting her ready in the evenings, a lock will sometimes brush Korra’s face and she’ll catch a whiff of the jasmine perfume Asami wears. It’s honestly very distracting.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Asami says with a slight smile. “I, uh… I heard about the engagement.”

Korra slumps in her seat, putting her face in her hands and groaning. “Asami, what am I going to do? I’m the last person who should be getting married. I’m going to be an awful wife.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Asami says gently, walking over to where Korra is sitting and placing the tray onto her vanity, bustling around to begin pouring her a cup of tea. She makes it exactly how Korra likes it- plenty of sugar and no milk- placing it at her elbow and reaching out to rub soothingly at Korra’s back. It might be an overstepping of boundaries for a handmaiden in other contexts to touch their employer so casually, but the separation of where the work relationship ends and friendship begins between Korra and Asami has been blurry for years. 

“Being a wife seems quite easy, I think you’d have to make an effort to mess it up. All you really need to do is sit there and look pretty.”

“That’s the problem,” Korra bemoans, taking a sip of the tea Asami has prepared for her. “I’m terrible at sitting there. I think I’m too argumentative to be a wife.”

Asami hums mildly, neither an agreement or a disagreement. She pours herself a cup of tea- adding a generous dollop of milk and one sugar cube- and stirs it daintily with the small golden spoon from her saucer. Korra finds herself staring at Asami’s fingers as she stirs- brown skin and long slender fingers, pretty and well-manicured nails. Korra often finds herself getting distracted by Asami’s hands as she deftly performs her handmaiden tasks- something about those long thin fingers competently lacing up a corset or preparing a cup of tea makes Korra’s brain go all fuzzy. She wonders idly if she should mention it to the royal healer. I have a serious problem, doctor. I think I’m allergic to my handmaid's fingers. They make my stomach flip. Korra feels ridiculous. To stop herself from saying something truly embarrassing, like I want to know what those fingers feel like in my mouth , she instead occupies herself with taking another sip of tea. 

“You’ll probably just have to get the argumentative streak under control,” Asami concedes. “Men tend not to like it when their wives disagree with them. Although from what I’ve heard about Prince Mako, it seems like His Majesty tends not to like most things.”

Korra just sighs. “Yeah, that’s the impression I’ve gotten of him, too. I have a sinking suspicion this marriage has less to do with economics and politics and more to do with the fact no one except the most negative Prince in the world would be okay getting stuck with like me. We’re the ones nobody else would take.”

Asami scoffs. “You know that’s not the case. Besides, any prince would be lucky to have you as a wife.”

It feels almost too honest, almost too close to acknowledging the unspoken tension that simmers underneath the friendship between them. Asami is looking directly at Korra, her face serious and unguarded, and Korra feels like she has to look away or else Asami’s eyes might actually bore into her. Korra feels her face getting hot. An anxiety that she’s been trying to ignore ever since the announcement of the proposal bubbles its way to the surface, and Korra feels vulnerable with Asami’s unwavering gaze flaying her open. 

“Asami, I’m… worried. About getting married.”

Asami’s gaze changes, a sadness crossing over her eyes. “Hey, hey,” she says, putting her hands on both of Korra’s shoulders and looking down at her. “What’s the matter, Your Majesty?”

Korra feels suitably embarrassed now, but honestly if there’s anyone she can confess this specific fear to it’s Asami. Asami, at least, will not judge her.

“I am worried,” she begins haltingly, “about… being a wife. In the purely… physical sense.”

Asami’s perfectly manicured brows furrow. Korra supposes she’ll have to be more direct. Unfortunate. 

“I’m worried,” she tries again, “about. You know. Consummating the marriage. Becoming a mother. That sort of thing.”

Asami’s eyes get wide. It seems like this is the last thing she expected Korra to say. “Oh!” she exclaims, a light pink dusting her cheekbones. Even in her embarrassment she manages to look elegant and put together. Korra is struck, yet again, with just how pretty Asami actually is, and feels herself flush with embarrassment at bringing this up.

“God, Asami, I’m so sorry, that’s so inappropriate for me to even mention to you-”  

“I could, um-” Asami cuts herself off, eyes fluttering towards the ceiling. She seems to be steeling herself. “I could teach you? If you’re… interested. I’ve had sex before, I know what a man would probably expect of that situation. It might ease your anxieties to be a little prepared? Before the wedding day. Your Majesty.”

Korra has never seen Asami look so awkward. It would almost be comical if the situation wasn’t currently melting Korra’s brain. She feels like her body is on fire. “Um- yeah, okay.”

“Okay?” Asami asks, almost a whisper. She looks like she’s trying to reel herself in, not look too eager. Korra feels like she’s floating and also sinking into the floor. “Um, yes. I would like that. Please.”

 And then Asami is leaning forward and kissing her, so sweetly, and bringing her hands up to run her long fingers through Korra’s hair, and Korra feels like she could sob with relief. Asami has touched her hair hundreds, thousands of times, but this time is different, it’s more , and it sets Korra’s scalp on fire. Slowly, intentionally, the same way she is kissing her now and Korra realizes, maybe a little belatedly, that she should probably do something, too. 

Korra is used to getting anything she wants. She is used to taking without asking permission, charging headfirst into decisions before thinking them through. She’s royalty, goddamnit, and the tutors who were supposed to instruct her on subtlety and manners when she was younger never really managed to get their lessons to stick. Korra thinks they would be laughing now if they saw her hands, usually so sure of themselves, hovering nervously at Asami’s sides. Korra was at a complete loss.

Asami pulls back, and Korra could cry at the sudden loss of contact as Asami’s hands slide out of her hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, still so close Korra feels the words hotly against her own lips. “Sorry, was that okay, Your Majesty?”

Korra blinks, trying to find words. “Asami…” Asami’s hands brush, feather light, down Korra’s bare arms, stopping to circle gently around her wrists. Korra’s eyes flutter shut and she exhales, steadying herself. “Please don’t stop.”

Asami laughs quietly, really just an exhale. Korra has always loved Asami’s laugh. It sounds like bells, or birdsong, or… something. Whatever. Korra never claimed to be a poet. All she knows is that Asami is laughing and then leaning in to kiss her again, and Korra feels warm all the way to her toes, the places on her wrist where Asami’s fingers make contact with her skin positively electrified. Asami lets Korra’s wrists go, bracketing Korra’s body with her hands to steady herself, and without thinking, Korra reaches out to grab Asami’s waist, pulling her closer against herself. 

Asami gasps a little into Korra’s mouth, and Korra chases that gasp with her tongue, her brain short-circuiting. Korra’s only ever been drunk once, bored at a ball when she was sixteen, and she thinks this sort of feels like that, warm and dizzy and giving her maybe a little bit of a headache. Her hands roam of their own accord to brush Asami’s ribs, splay across her soft back, drift down hesitantly to grab her ass and wow, okay, that’s Asami’s ass, and Korra’s touching it and Asami is humming into their kiss and Korra can’t think of anything that’s ever happened in her entire life that’s made her feel quite like this.  

Asami pulls back, breathless, her brown eyes a little wild, and Korra has to squeeze her eyes shut and bury her face into Asami’s neck because seeing her like that- lips wet and swollen and eyes wide- it’s really overwhelming. 

“Your Majesty-” and holy fuck, Asami’s voice sounds wrecked . Korra’s out of her mind, and Asami is about to break away and say something sensible about how this is a terrible idea, and then they’ll have to stop, but Korra feels like she’s burning up and she knows for a fact she’ll die unless Asami keeps touching her, so she just presses her lips more firmly against Asami’s neck before looking up at her. 

“Please Asami,” Korra’s mind is spinning; she’ll do anything if it’ll get Asami to stay exactly  here. “What else? What else do I need to know?”

Asami takes a shuddering inhale, her hands tightening slightly on Korra’s biceps. She squeezes her eyes shut with a grounding breath and then she is leading Korra over to the bed and then Korra is on the sitting on the edge of it and Asami is kneeling on the floor and putting her hands on Korra’s knees and looking up at her with her pretty brown eyes and Korra thinks she’s dying. 

“You won’t have to do much, Your Majesty,” says Asami, pressing a kiss against Korra’s knee as if she can’t help it. “I’m sure he’ll do most of the work.”

Korra’s heartbeat is in her throat. She thinks maybe the entire palace can hear her heart thrumming throughout her entire body. “With-” she starts, breathless, and has to shut her eyes because Asami is all soft and glowy in the firelight below her and she keeps kissing her legs and it’s a lot to take in. Korra takes a deep breath. “With his… fingers, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Asami hums against Korra’s robed thigh. “Take your robe off, Your Majesty.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Korra’s hands are shaking almost too hard for her to unknot the belt at her waist. Hastily, she pushes the blue silk off her shoulders, letting it slide down. She’s been naked in front of Asami a million times, but she can’t stop herself from flushing as Asami’s eyes slide hotly down her bare body. 

“Always so pretty, Your Majesty,” Asami says with a smile, and Korra shivvers under the praise. She can’t help her hands from shooting up to hide her face behind them. Her eyes squeeze shut behind her hands and she lets herself get lost in the sweet little kisses Asami is leaving along the inside of her thighs, nails scratching ever so lightly up and down Korra’s calves. 

Suddenly, Asami’s hands leave Korra’s legs and she is leaning forward to pull Korra’s own hands away from her face. “Here, Your Majesty, open up,” and her fingers are pressing at Korra’s lips and Korra can’t do anything but part them and let Asami slide her fingers in. Asami moves from the floor to seat herself on Korra’s lap, settling onto Korra’s spread thighs, her first two fingers hooked behind Korra’s bottom teeth. Experimentally, Korra licks them. Asami exhales, and Korra is almost surprised to see that she’s nervous. “Here,” she breathes, taking one of Korra’s hands with her free one and bringing it up to her own lips. She guides two of Korra’s fingers into her own mouth and begins to suck, running her tongue up and down the digits in her mouth. 

Korra knows her own eyes must be wild, her heart hammering in her ears, slack jawed around the fingers between her lips as Asami sucks Korra’s fingers deeper into her mouth, hot and wet and never breaking eye contact. Korra tries to follow her lead, mouthing haphazardly at the fingers between her own lips, but it’s difficult to focus on the task with Asami so close to her, lapping indecently at Korra’s digits. Finally, or maybe all too soon, she pulls off of Korra’s fingers, pressing a delicate kiss to the tips. “Like that, see?”

Korra is dead. She just knows it. She has died and this is the spirit realm. She swirls her tongue around Asami’s fingers and Asami nods her approval, humming contentedly before eventually pulling her fingers out. She brings her thumb up to her own mouth and gives it a single lick before bringing her hand down between Korra’s legs, where Korra knows she’s already embarrassingly wet. She slides one finger between Korra’s folds, pressing in so, so slowly, her thumb brushing against Korra’s clit. 

Korra’s whole body jerks. Hands shaking, she jolts down with her own spit-slick fingers to grab Asami’s wrist. Asami stills, and she looks up at Korra’s face, a slight crease between her brows. 

“Is this okay, Your Majesty?”

“Just- holy shit, Asami, holy shit,” Korra babbles, her whole body alight. It’s all so much, Asami, warm and close and whole and Korra can’t stand it. “Just- just give me a sec. Just hold on, just a second.”

Asami presses a kiss to Korra’s cheek, soft and chaste. “Of course, Your Majesty. Take your time.”

Korra takes a deep, slow breath, and then another. Asami’s hand, the one that’s not currently setting a fire between Korra’s legs, comes up to brush a thumb across Korra’s cheek, deft fingers running through Korra’s short hair and stopping to cup the back of Korra’s neck. Korra can’t help leaning forward to press a kiss to Asami’s mouth, smiling a little against it. “Thanks,” she sighed, pulling back. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m good now. Sorry.”

Asami kisses the corner of her mouth as the thumb on her clit resumes the little circles it had been making. “Don’t apologize, Your Majesty. We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Just keep- fingers. Yeah. ‘S good.” Korra’s cheeks feel hot. Asami laughs again, slowly pulling out and then sliding two fingers into Korra, causing her to jerk again and let out a breathy moan. Asami crooks her fingers just-so, smiling, and Korra sees stars. “Holy shit, holy shit,” she gasps, hands coming up to scramble at Asami’s shoulders, her back. “Asami, Asami, holy shit.”

Asami is still laughing. “You’re cute, Princess.”

Korra surges forward, desperately kissing Asami’s laughing mouth. She can feel Asami’s smile against her own lips and it makes her light headed. Korra thinks back to her philosophy tutors waxing poetic about the unknowable nature of the meaning of life, and she thinks a little wildly that clearly they’d never held a laughing Asami in their lap and kissed her, two fingers deep in their pussy, because this . This is it. She figured it out, all the philosophers can go home. Korra thinks maybe her whole life was just leading up to this. Asami pulls her fingers out part way just to press them back in deeper and Korra dies in her arms. 

It’s been hours and also no time at all when Asami’s fingers slide out of Korra, her thumb still brushing Korra’s clit periodically. “How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” Her voice, soft and close to Korra’s ear, shakes a little. Korra’s eyes meet hers, and she really wishes she could tell what Asami was thinking. Korra could cry at the loss of contact, and something must show in her face because Asami grins at her, something dark and sharp in that flash of teeth. Korra’s never seen her look so devastating; it’s almost painful how pretty she is. 

“Don’t-” Korra knows she probably sounds too desperate, so she sucks a deep breath in. “Don’t want you to stop, why did you stop?”

“Here,” Asami is reaching behind Korra and grabbing a pillow, manhandling Korra further back on the bed. “Lie back, Your Majesty, here, lift your hips.”

Korra is putty in Asami’s hands, letting herself be placed just how Asami wants her. Asami’s hands land gently on either thigh, pulling them apart ever so slightly. 

“Holy shit. Oh, god, holy-” Korra almost can’t look, her abs and thighs and whole body trembling with want. “Okay. Holy shit.”

Asami breathes out a laugh, and Korra feels her hot breath wash over her clit and squirms. She forces herself to look down at Asami and the room feels like it is spinning. Asami, her long hair falling prettily over her shoulders, looking far too polished and put together for someone inches away from a whole entire vagina. Korra does not even want to know how disheveled she must look in comparison. 

Asami blinks up at Korra behind her lashes, small smirk pulling at her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. “This okay?” she asks, and it’s all Korra can do to shakily nod her head. 

The first contact of tongue on her pussy sends Korra bucking her hips wildly, squirming almost involuntarily out of Asami’s grasp.

“Ahh, fuck! Fuck, Asami, fuck!”

Asami’s shoulders shake with her suppressed laughter, hands gripping Korra’s thighs and preventing her from rolling fully away from Asami. “Shh, stay still, Your Majesty,” she murmurs, flashing her teeth playfully. 

Korra’s whole body is electric, over-sensitive and wound tight. It feels so good she almost can’t stand it, the muscles in her abs jumping and twitching with a mind of their own. “What the fuck…” she breathes, trying to get her body under control. “What the fuck, Asami, what the fuck.”

“Feels good?” Asami asks coyly.

“Fuck!” 

“Want me to keep going, Your Majesty?”

“Fuck!”

“Gonna need to hear a yes or a no, Your Majesty.” 

“Oh, God, Asami, yes. Yes, just… shit. Go slow.” Korra glues her eyes to the ceiling and wills herself to stop shaking. It feels so good it’s almost painful, her body oversensitive and not used to the sensation. Asami is lavishing her with her tongue, making long, slow motions over her entrance before pulling back slightly. Korra looks down at her.

“Some men don’t care to do this part,” she says, almost a whisper. Korra blinks vaguely and remembers, almost comically slowly, what the point of this even is. “So Prince Mako may not-”

“Asami,” Korra whines, because suddenly she can’t think of anything in the world she wants to hear less than the words Prince Mako . “Asami, Asami, I don’t care about him, just want you, please, keep going.” She’s aware she’s babbling, trying to find the right words to say to communicate to Asami how much she needs her mouth on her now. 

Something flashes across Asami’s eyes, possessive and dark, and she’s grinning her sharp smile again and returning to Korra’s pussy with a teasing unhurriedness. 

“You want me like this, Your Majesty?” It’s almost a purr.

Korra’s breathing is becoming erratic, and her hands fly into Asami’s hair, all thoughts of decorum fully abandoning ship as she bucks recklessly up into her mouth. 

Asami shifts up to lick gently at Korra’s clit, one long, lithe finger coming up to tease at her entrance again. Her brown eyes flutter up to Korra’s, and Korra grips her hair tighter, wishing she could burn this image into her memory permanently. 

Asami slips two fingers into Korra’s cunt, curling them forward and holding them still as Korra trembles around her. “Your Majesty,” she whispers, her face serious. She says it like an admission of guilt. “I want to fuck you like he’ll never be able to.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Korra feels the release building inside her, something hot and alive slipping up her back and sparking behind her eyes.

“I want to fuck you so good you’ll leave his kingdom behind for me.”

And just like that, Korra cums, grinding onto Asami’s fingers and riding them through the aftershocks. The entire room closes in around her until nothing is left but her, Asami, their bodies, Asami’s silky voice covering her like a blanket.   

“Every time he fucks me,” Korra pants, hands untangling from Asami’s hair so she can throw her arms over her own face. “Every time. I’m going to think about you.”

“Shit,” Asami hisses, and Korra pries her eyes open to watch Asami pull her fingers out of Korra’s cunt, clamoring on top of her to straddle her waist. “Your Majesty, is it okay if I-” Without even waiting for an answer from Korra, she hikes her skirt up around her waist, reaching down between her legs and starting to hump her hand, the heel of it digging into her clit as she rocks over Korra’s limp form. 

Korra watches, transfixed, as Asami, sweaty and breathless, her hair an absolute mess, climaxes, letting out a breathy whimper and grinding into her palm. She collapses onto Korra, face nestling into her neck and breathing deeply.

They recover like that, panting and holding each other tightly, until the sex-blissed haze starts to lift and the reality of what they just did hits Korra like a tidal wave.

“Asami…” Korra begins. Asami looks up, her face flushed, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. She looks completely blissed out, her eyes slightly unfocused. It almost makes Korra want to fuck her all over again, and sitting here in the afterglow, the reality of her impending marriage hits her in the face like a bucket of cold water. 

I love you , she wants to say. I need you. I want to wake up every morning next to you. I want you to fuck me into oblivion whenever you want me and not worry what anyone else thinks. I can’t marry Prince Mako when you’re right here, in my bed, soft and pliant and warm and gorgeous. I love you.

She can’t say any of it, though, so instead she just says, “When I move to Prince Mako’s kingdom after the wedding, I want you to accompany me as my handmaiden. I’m not leaving without you.”

Asami beams in return, and it’s almost enough.