He refuses to go easy on her as always; she knows this, of course, meeting him fully the whole way. They rarely switch tactics anymore; he always seems to be the dominant one, but she is obviously in control. With a kunai between her teeth, she dives behind a tree, watching for him. Waiting.

He crashes into her almost immediately after she changes the move he is so used to; he despises change. She stares at him coldly when he pins her once more, a lecture of blades in his hands, meeting her teeth and tongue and flesh and steel all at once. In a beautiful crescendo, she writhes beneath him, her passion for battle and lust for blood counter his for her. There is nothing to stop either.

If one were to look upon them in their haven, they would see a sadistic, masochistic dance unfold. Their torturous, horizontal tango.

No one looks, though.

And they dance on.

.b.l.o.o.m.

More innuendos, huh, Iris? ;)