It happened during training.

You and Korra were alone at the White Lotus courtyard. The sun blazed above, and the heat shimmered off the stones like a firebender’s exhale. You were sparring, dancing around each other with blasts of steam and bursts of flame, when she suddenly yanked her soaked tunic over her head and tossed it aside.

You blinked.

“What are you—?”

“Waterbending,” she cut in, breathless but smug. “I need…uh…skin access. For sweat. So I can redirect the moisture better.”

Right.

That explained the top.

And then her pants followed.

You choked on your own fire. “Korra—?!”

“I said sweat bending!” she barked, clearly flustered beneath her confidence. Her rich brown skin shimmered, slick with sweat and glowing under the high noon sun. Her thick, sculpted thighs flexed with every step, wide hips swaying with that powerful gait. Her full, round breasts rose and fell with each breath, jiggling slightly as she bent backward, arms stretching over her head to “loosen up her core.”

The only thing loosened was your self-control.

She was wearing nothing but her bindings, and even those were working overtime trying to keep her in. You caught her glancing—twice—at your expression. Her cheeks were pink. She smirked anyway.

“Problem, fire boy?”

“No,” you muttered, barely able to meet her eyes. “Just concentrating.”

“Then stop losing.” She charged forward, and suddenly the fight was harder—for very different reasons.

Every step, every water-slicked kick, was a test. Her thighs clapped with movement, her back arched in perfect form, and she definitely didn’t need to turn that slowly while dodging. You sent a low arc of flame her way—just to stall her.

She slid under it, hips rolling, and murmured, “That all you got, hot stuff?”