They're the same.

The blood running through their veins.

Their hands.

Their lips.

Their teeth.

Their eyes.

Their moans and screams.

Their whispers and thrusts.

They're completely different.

Their hair; blonde and red.

Their smiles.

The wrinkles around their eyes.

Their scars.

One advances and one retreats.

One straddles her hips.

One tries her best to tell herself it's not real.

"This isn't right."

"This is the rightest thing in the worlds."