... at the rippling, sinewy muscle under her fingers.
Korra tugs at his jacket, wanting him to remove it – he gets the hint and pulls back to quickly discard his jacket and scarf, leaving him in his undershirt. She grins appreciatively at him, and a smirk slowly spreads its way over his face.
"Your turn," he says, looking expectantly at her. Not to be outdone, she unties her fur-lined pelt, letting it drop to the floor, then kicks off her boots. She raises an eyebrow at him.
"You again," she whispers, reaching forward to wrap her fingers in the hem of his shirt, then tugging it over his head.
She can't help but stare, finally given the opportunity to take in the sight of a shirtless Mako without having to quickly avert her eyes and pretend that she hadn't been ogling him (it'd happened quite a few times after training or a match). A jolt runs through her, fading into a slight ache between her legs.
He's muscled, but not overly so – in a subtle, sensual way which she finds even more attractive. She lightly runs her fingers over the hard planes of his chest, exploring, as he watches her every move. Tentatively, he places his hands on her waist, slipping his fingers under her shirt, giving the faintest tug upwards, eyes fixed on hers. She nods in assent and lets him pull her shirt off, leaving her in her chest wraps.
Mako's eyes gravitate to the slight swell of her cleavage, barely visible above her wraps. Her heart beats faster...