(no subject)

[righteousindignation]

Threatening violence wasn't out of the ordinary. Not in the slightest. Even going so far as throwing things, having weapons in hand, that was nothing to be concerned over. He called it foreplay, she called him an asshole and either got her knife tossed back to her or retrieved it from the wall. Fighting was another part of them, and she usually went for blood.

Where it went different today was when she called him on lowering his guard by her hands latching onto his throat, pressing not for the windpipe but for his cartoid arteries. Whether she was strong enough to strangle him was not the problem, it was that she had tried, and of course he wrenched her hands off of him. She kicked his stomach to make him let go, and that's how it started.

He wanted the fight over swiftly, she didn't, and so it required her to be more on the defensive to ensure he didn't simply knock her out. Striking out, blocking, parrying and pivoting, there was no set style for them because sticking to a style would have been too easy to read. No weapons, just strength, just ignoring what might be bruises later and giving as good as you got. Unpredictability was the key to this battle, that and enjoyment. Endorphins, the rush of being that close and exerting the energy to get the upper hand, the strange grace inherent in combat. Weapons were more effective, but there was something satisfying about having a punch connect to the other, about seeing the brief flashes of pain on the other's face and knowing you made them hurt.

He could complain about his time wasted all he wanted, but she dared him to deny that he enjoyed the way it made him feel.