And it occurs to them, there has not been much time in between. In between the conferences, the new champions coming to battle them, various evil organizations attempting to take over regions (or the world), and just not enough time in between being together. But so is the life of adults… or so is the life of them. The whole ‘thing’—which they truly have not named—came about so rashly, so childishly, and what she had hoped to be more… classy.

She’s a lady and he’s a gentleman. He’s this and she’s that. She looks back on it, laments for a moment, over a second in time that has changed the rest of her days, and likewise his. A second in time where she thinks lesser of herself than usual, where the liquor may have been stronger; and the loneliness and stress of her life was strongest. And his presence, his regal, seemingly godly or whatever charm he has, just tipped her scale. And slid right into her sheets.

Oh, she shakes her blonde hairs in thought, I am an embarrassment. Their quick tryst of champions turned into a series, a series of late-night drinks and drunken promises that when she wakes in the morning, she hopes they are fulfilled. But hopes like that, they could never be. Not with so little time, not with their lives separate and the doubt she can see in his eyes reflect back into hers. Her mind stirs, frantic with worry he may be settling, he may take simple pity on her, he may just be satisfying his desire for the flesh.

She places fingertips to her chest, it beats forcefully at the thought of his touch. In anticipation of his near arrival, the past year looms on her. The first time they… joined together. The time after that had not happened for some time afterwards, he apologized profusely as if he could say nothing more for the first occurrence, it makes her tingle with suspicion. Perhaps he doesn’t want her? Perhaps, he has never wanted her?

Although he still tells her, when she asks if he would like to continue seeing her, “I don’t regret the first time.”

And she could fall to her knees, at the sight of him, knowing that he wants her just as she lusts for him. They no longer serve a physical purpose, the intoxicated sonnets they moan to one another throughout the night, they’ve filled a void within their hearts — maybe love has not been lost for either of them. Maybe the fruit of their labor, the goods of their hard work, has come around, and all the quiet nights have paved the way for these few impassioned rendezvouses.

He arrives, gingerly caresses her cheek, and asks about her week. All at once it feels they share a home, although they have spent so little time together. After a relaxed dinner, they talk about him. And for some odd reason, this time, it is not her throwing herself at him. But the other way around.

“You are my equal,” he whispers before he bites her ear softly. “And I have never wanted a woman so much before in my life.”