Crackling, sizzling, booming, pouring through the air, there was little doubt that there was something going on, something neither one could have predicted or accounted for, let alone understood. And they stood there like dragons, breathing and snarling as though it was the others' fault. They both knew better, but that changed little. Breathing fire, they circled each other watching, waiting for whatever might come next, knowing whatever it was could ultimately destroy them; caring not.
As the energy arced across the sky, they began to move, abandoning logic and all that they had stood for previously. And they moved thus, ever wary, watching each other carefully, longing for the inevitable, and staving it off in favor of the dance. Hunger pounded through their veins but no one and nothing could sate this hunger. It was consuming, this blaze, and it meant to devour them, but it couldn't have conceived of the power each possessed. And so they circled. Each waiting for the other to make themselves vulnerable. Waiting for a weakness, a soft spot, something to lead them into the darkness they both craved and denied. To those who could see, the dance was moot. Those strong enough could see the dance would merely intensify what lie ahead. The denial is what would eventually do them in, take them hostage. To those who couldn't see, who were not in possession of that strength, nothing was amiss. Everything was as it should be. All was right with the world. But to the few who held that power, everything lie in the balance.
If she lunged first, but did so with any hesitation or doubt, she would be beaten. If he reacted slowly or with fear, he would be devoured by her need. She was unaccustomed to the hunger; it was strange and unfamiliar to her, but he knew of it. He knew that eventually he would confront it, but even so, the depth and depravity of it shocked him. Nothing could have prepared him; yet he was ready. He had prepared for an eternity and while he had misjudged the hunger, he had always carried the appetite. He could taste her; even now, even through her fight, he could taste her. He knew her scent, her sound. He knew how it would be for them. And that knowledge should have calmed the beast within, should have quelled the hunger but it did not. He still felt a desperation to have it done. To feel her heat, her need. He wanted to drive that need to a fever pitch so that it thrummed throughout her being, leaving no part of her untouched.
As fate would have it, she felt his call, became aware of his hunger, and it unsettled her, left her naked and open to his attack; and attack he did. Within her vulnerability, she was awakened to her want, and he lifted the edge of that, exposing it for what it was. With a moan, her head dropped; her eyes closed without will, to show her what lie ahead. As she shook her head no and began to draw from the strength she knew was there, he moved forward, to within a thought of her. He could feel her calling to what she held inside and let her build it for a moment before he touched her. The battle could only be won; truly won, against an enemy well armed. So he let her feed her power until he could wait no longer. He touched her then, and in touching her, broke through the wall of restraint she had in place. He reached her with one move.
He was not prepared for what she carried. As skin met skin, her power coursed through him, strong and sure. He felt his own surge to meet it, whether to fight it off or to combine strengths, he knew not, but the surge lanced from his fingers to her flesh, causing them both to pause, or more appropriately, freeze. It wasn't a moment for indecision or hesitation, yet neither could move. It lashed them as strongly as a rope or other physical binding. All at once, seemingly of its' own accord, their strength pulled them closer, leaving nothing but cloth between them. Her hands wound themselves about his neck, leaving her to fear what had come over her. She was removed from herself, unable to control what came next. Her lips parted, emitting a sigh or moan, maybe both, and her body loosened itself, becoming pliant and willing. She saw herself weaken with horror. Closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly from one side to the next, denying the truth.
As she moved her head to the side, making her neck vulnerable, he lowered his head slowly, so she might know of his intent. But the need rose within him, and as he dropped his face to breathe of her, he felt the shift. It should have been under control, but it was not and the more he let it go, the stronger it became. He felt her tremble as though she knew, felt her rest her head on his shoulder, keeping herself open for his attack, and still he fought it. He tried to draw himself back, to pull his power in, but he could not. With what strength he did possess over the power, he began to reign it in, but her own curled itself around his and refused to let it go. He felt hers twine itself sinuously around his caressing it, calming the fire, but feeding the hunger. Her pale blue began to move on its' own, leaving her to marvel at the need she could scarcely hold back. Nor did she want to. Her body had hungered for so long, with such desperation, that she was nearly relieved to find her completion. She let it go, pouring her entire being into it, feeding it with her own worldly hunger.
