“Unless it's mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldn't be one of them.”

— Dream for an Insomniac

They were in the middle of one of their arguments, and so it had happened unexpectedly. The fight had started over something small and insignificant that would easily fade from her mind later, but she was telling him that he was selfish and arrogant and he was going on about how difficult she was and how she never stopped to listen. She had only just opened her mouth with some furious retort waiting to burst free when suddenly in an act of pure frustration, he grabbed her upper arms in his tight grip, pinned her to the kitchen counter, and kissed her.

It was not romantic. She knew the whole thing was just about shutting her up, knew that he had not planned this anymore than she. But it was happening, his lips were moving against hers in a furious manner, teeth scraping and mouths caught in between.

But then as his body pressed into hers, she felt the change in him, and his lips slowed down, caressing hers gently. His hands trailed down her arms to rest on her hips, pulling them closer to his, and when their pelvises connected a low and reluctant whimper slid past her lips.

The sound made them both pause, as if startled, and then she was kissing him back, faster and more urgent than before as his hands cupped her bottom and lifted so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Blindly, they stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall. She pulled his lower lip between her teeth and sucked. He groaned and spun them around sharply, so it was her back to the wall now, slamming into it with a thud that knocked the breath out of her as her hands buried themselves in his hair, their breaths hot and mingling as they brought each other to the point of no return.