Never Again

A/N: Well, here's my first attempt at delving into my favorite pairing that NOBODY in this world writes about other that me. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

It all began with that one phone call, with Maureen begging him to come fix her equipment before the show. It would never have started without that initial connection in that one enchanting night, that first taste of contact as she spun around in his arms, that moment of epiphany as they danced.

After the first time, they swore it was only this once, that it would never happen again.

But the next week, Joanne is waiting on his bed in the empty loft when he returns from a day of shooting, anticipation etched in every line of her body. "Never again." Three days later, Mark is waiting her in her office after everyone else at the firm has already gone home. "Never again."

Then suddenly, it becomes an addiction. Suddenly, in place of closeup shots and film reels, all Mark can focus on is running his hands through her dark hair, the soft mystery confined in her touch, that beautifully smooth skin that reminds him of nothing so much as good, hot coffee with a generous amount of cream – the way he always liked it.

And suddenly, it's an obsession. Suddenly, instead of testimonies and arguments and rebuttals, all she can think about are his small, deft hands as they explore every contour of her body, the sound of his soft, sweet moans as she gently pleasures him, the feeling of their sweating bodies entwined as they release together, becoming one in body and soul.

Then it's "never again" and guilty feelings as Joanne makes her way back to her apartment, back to her Maureen, back to the life that she knows. She's never been the type to cheat on anyone, and as much as she tries to justify those nights in Mark's arms, she knows that cheating is the only word to describe it. It's back into Maureen's arms, back into faking pleasured groans as the realization dawns on her – now, only Mark can truly satisfy her.

Then it's back to shoot angles and watching old film, trying to comprehend their relationship and trying to get it out of his mind. It's back to the loft, back to denying any form of emotion, back to numbness, back to his comfortable life of living solely for his work. It's back to wondering why the hell Maureen's equipment stopped working, why Fate had joined them together while ripping them apart, why they now had to live in this varied heaven and hell.

Then Joanne loses a case, and the company rejects Mark's film, and their worlds are lost again in that painfully beautiful dimension of sweat and heat and moans and contact and passion.

And then it's back to sanity as Mark pulls on his jeans and Joanne buttons her shirt. They don't face each other or speak to each other until they simultaneously say, "Never again." They pretend they believe those familiar words, that comforting lie, yet something within them admits that what they truly mean is "Until next time."