A longer one, from Wintersong's "Found" (http://wintersong0.tripod.com/xfic/Lost/Lost_entry.htm):
It was a courtship in its simplest form. Offer and response. Advance and retreat...
The pace picked up... He attacked, she blocked. She attacked, he parried. Each absorbed the other's ability. Blows came more swiftly as they learned the limits of the other's reach and reflex. She saw it build. She saw it flower. She saw it happen. She saw the very instant it ceased to be a practice bout...
...and became a dance.
Once, only once had she ever been where they were. When the goal became that of discovery. When you knew your partner so well that you could drop the last restraint, the last conscious control over your body and simply become. When the blows had no fall-back, no restraint. When you could risk it, only because you knew your partner would block it. When you would move...only because you knew where your partner would be. And the dance became an upward spiral as the blows became faster, as hands moved faster than thought, as the body literally reacted in a violent tango that had nothing of violence at it's heart.
It was truth.
It was trust.
It simply was.
And then they stopped. The tension came to an almost unbearable crest and everyone in the room was poised on the edge, praying to be taken over. They stopped. The fierce grins of joy that each had worn faded as eyes locked, sharing knowledge and awareness of self.
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It was a courtship in its simplest form. Offer and response. Advance and retreat...
The pace picked up... He attacked, she blocked. She attacked, he parried. Each absorbed the other's ability. Blows came more swiftly as they learned the limits of the other's reach and reflex. She saw it build. She saw it flower. She saw it happen. She saw the very instant it ceased to be a practice bout...
...and became a dance.
Once, only once had she ever been where they were. When the goal became that of discovery. When you knew your partner so well that you could drop the last restraint, the last conscious control over your body and simply become. When the blows had no fall-back, no restraint. When you could risk it, only because you knew your partner would block it. When you would move...only because you knew where your partner would be. And the dance became an upward spiral as the blows became faster, as hands moved faster than thought, as the body literally reacted in a violent tango that had nothing of violence at it's heart.
It was truth.
It was trust.
It simply was.
And then they stopped. The tension came to an almost unbearable crest and everyone in the room was poised on the edge, praying to be taken over. They stopped. The fierce
grins of joy that each had worn faded as eyes locked, sharing knowledge and awareness of self.
And then it was over.