There's always something about the way she reacts to my touch. So very much like Ginchiyo to lock every door, shut every window, keep herself as quiet as possible-god forbid a moan give her away as having a healthy human libido.

I never asked for this-and yet he knows I want it. Strange how it works that way. Our connection might seem weak to an untrained eye. Even as I snake my fingers between his, wrap my legs around him to pull him in further, I still try to convince myself that I'm being weak and that I don't need him as much as I do. But the ecstasy has taken over at this point. There's nothing I can do.

There's always that point during all of our bouts that I can feel her begin to accept it, I can feel the tension leave through her fingertips as I squeeze her hands tightly; that's the point when it stops being a simple release. Now we're more than best friends, inseparable lovers, more than even husband and wife. Is there more than that? I think so.

There isn't anything further to say. Any stray vocalizations either of us make are pure instinct now. How loud am I being? Do I need to keep it down? Can they hear? I don't care. I don't care.

Those soft moans she makes in my ear drive me insane. I'm hopeless. There's nothing I can do for myself now. I'm hooked on the melody of her voice. Speak to me again. Say my name. Say anything. Just let me hear you speak again. I love you.

I can't recall if I've ever looked into his eyes when we're like this and ever seen a glint of anything but warmth. He's always so gentle-it's as if he's incapable of treating me as if I'm anything less than a queen. It always makes me wonder afterward if I'm worth it. His fingers leaving my hands and pulling me tightly against him tell me I am. It's as if we can't get close enough.

She looks at me with such a mix of intrigue and anxiety. Even since our first time together, the look hasn't changed, and I've never figured out what exactly it was that she tries to find in the depths of my eyes. I kiss her and she tenses before she falls into it. One day I swear that I won't make her nervous... no matter how cute she is when she gets flustered. On second thought, actually...

My eyes shut tightly. His scent anymore is one that I couldn't recall not being omnipresent for more than a day. The smell of his breath, the taste of him-it makes my mouth water. I need it more, let me taste you. I grasp at him.

Take me. Hold me tightly.

The way she breathes my name in ecstatic moans and ragged whispers into my mouth, the way her legs cinch around my hips, the feel of her body held tightly against mine, the sensation of the pads of her fingers leaving my back, replaced with the exhilarating sting of her nails digging into the skin-you never know true pleasure until they all come together in making love to a woman you could never see yourself without. A woman you would give your life to please.

Every time, as the sensation builds, as I work my hips against him, every time, without fail, he buries his head in the crook of my neck and moans. He's almost there. Trying to hold out for me. He's all about signals-knowing all this just makes me realize that I know him better than anyone. It builds, the sensation builds more. It keeps going... and... and I can't...

That final moan when I know I've done my part-that is the most satisfying sound. One of ecstasy, something so beautiful in its contentment, something so erotic in its gratification, something so incredible in its power to break down all barriers of control she had set up for herself-it only brings me closer to that nirvana she seems to have reached. I... it seems I'm not far behind...

The sound of his breathing as he lays there with me is so soothing. The gradually slowing war drums pounding in his chest-the beat has a melody. A silent one, but a beautiful, soothing melody nonetheless. Asked my favorite recurring moments in my life, surely I'd tell you the end of a victorious battle, the feeling of a good meal, the satisfaction of a good strategy implemented, and this moment, this one now, right here in his arms, would be the one on my mind. I sigh, and close my eyes. I know my face is flushed pink, but forgive me for now. I'm not used to being loved so warmly. Please, I beg of you. Just hold me.

It was never my choice to be driven mad when she makes those silent whimpers, the ones that let me know she needs me. I never asked to be pushed to the edge when that blush creeps across her face as I hold her as close to my body as I can in the afterglow. I never did. And yet it only makes me want to hold her even closer, kiss her harder. If I had the choice, believe me, I'd make the exact same one again.

Curse him, curse what he does to me. He does what no other man can do. He takes away all my rationality, rips from me the sense, class, dignity of a warrior, leaving nothing but a simple, primitive woman. All that remains is a lust for his bare skin against mine. A simple glance is all it takes for me to fall all over again. It isn't my choice. It isn't my fault. If I had my way... well, saying I wouldn't want to keep this feeling would be a lie, wouldn't it.

She doesn't know how easy it is for her to turn a man like me into a mess. She has no idea, and I can't bring myself to tell her. I'll let her believe that her whims don't control nearly my every move. But the fact remains that even though I have no choice in the matter...

Part of me wants to tell him how much I need him. A big part of me. But another part refuses to be weak, and that's the part my father gave me, ingrained in my very being. I've got no choice but to follow that being. I'll only let it be known to myself, but even a warrior must admit defeat; even though I am strong, I am still controlled. I have no choice. I will never admit it, but there's no point in denying it...

I love how she makes me love her.

I love how he makes me love him.