Love is not a word Pein has ever used.

He has always chosen his words carefully; picked them up and examined them before discarding a great number away, like a wilted flower no longer fit for display. He does not like to expend energy on pointless pursuits.

His goals are fixed now and there is nothing more to say. She understands this and reciprocates his desire to communicate with few words. She reaches him silently with her eyes, ringed with charcoal borne from fire.

She knows him. He wonders if it is another of the many valuable skills she possesses, to know the unknowable. She follows his lead and answers his question without moving her lips.

They embark on this final mission together and her presence is a constant reminder that they will succeed. She has never failed him and he has never failed. Together, he knows, they are unstoppable.

Respect, admiration, desire are words Pein understands, even if he never expresses them. She understands them too. It is their silent contract, their mutual agreement.

When they shed their cloaks like strange, beautiful creatures emerging from dark cocoons, and their bodies meet, it is then that he has the most to say.

"You are mine."

She remains his silent partner. She listens to the words he does not speak.

I am yours.

Love is not a word Pein has ever used but then again, it has never been a word she has ever needed to hear.

"Pein… you…"

She can not accurately describe this man who has taken her on this journey, has embroiled her in a quest, seduced her with promises of power and pleasure, violence and destruction beyond all her wildest dreams. She is intoxicated by it; by him.

Doubt is a state of mind that has not plagued her for many years now. She has never doubted him, never doubted his resolve, his strength, his unwavering focus. Where he goes, she follows. It goes without saying.

They pass their time without speaking. But now the words leave her mouth and she hesitates. It was foolish to have wasted breath on such things and he will admonish her for it later as she punishes herself. If she is lucky she will climax from the pain (she can bring herself to this point by the thought alone).

Pein.

She has a secret. She likes to speak his name. It is onomatopoeic; it is the sound that embodies the pledge that he has made her.

It is the promise of a lifetime.

He looks at her with eyes that spiral like question marks but she sees no uncertainty there and her mouth closes, metal stud grazing the inside of her lower lip deliciously. She will draw blood with it later as they lay entangled together and it is her mouth that forms silent vows over the hard contours of his body while he proclaims her his. When the moment comes she will say his name out loud and all doubt with evaporate like the sweat from their skin.

Pein.

That name.

It is all she has ever needed to hear.

A/N: Look at me, jumping on the Pein/BH bandwagon. But seriously, how hot is this couple? Just forgive my poor efforts please.