She licks her lips, tastes sweet and salty. Sweet as candied popcorn and kisses, salty as blood, the taste of a love an eon old, reaching a culmination. She licks her lips, sweet and salty, kisses and blood, thousands upon thousands of years of waiting, leading up to now. She is tired of waiting, she wants him now - but relatively, it is now. So many times, so close, so many times, snatched away, and she's so tired of it. He is beautiful, and he is hers, and she licks her lips again, tasting love.
"You ready?" he asks, settling into the martial stance.
She tilts her head coyly, tensing for the attack. "Am I?"