That moment should have been enough. The one where he moved inside her. At one point in his misbegotten life, it would have been more than he'd dare dream of having.

And for a while, it had been enough. All of it.

But those moments were interspersed with other ones. Ones that were more angry and raw, leaving both of them to lick their wounds and blame the other for it. After a while, it ceased to matter who had drawn first blood in those skirmishes. Both of them were predator and prey.

Yet, when it was all done, and every barb had hit true, they'd look at each other and remember that one moment. And invariably find their way there again.

There were days when he’d almost convince himself that he couldn’t bleed another drop in the name of their border wars. And that the inevitable feel of her beneath him wouldn’t heal those cuts.

And then there were days when he’d suture up his wounds and taste her on his tongue because the alternative really wasn’t one.

Today was one of those days.