Yes this is titled after and inspired by Maroon 5's One More Night. It crawled into my brain today and refused to leave until I wrote this.
Their fights are spectacular.
Her voice starts out smooth and slow like warm honey on sweet bread, hot from the oven. It rises, sharpens, tightens and coils like a snake, pierced and poised and ready to strike. It reaches fever pitches, intense and lashing, cutting like a blade tied to the end of a whip: unnecessarily sharp.
His starts out even, cool, and then deepens in intensity. It grows colder, distant, detached and removed even as he burns with suppressed anger. It softens, quiets, freezes, and with anyone but her, turns mocking and cruel. With her, it's guarded even until the height of emotion, when it's ripped open and laid bare.
Their fights are spectacular and they are frequent.
They go to war weekly, years of repressed emotions spilling out of them both. They fight, they leave, and always, they come back. They're dysfunctional, but they're each others'.
Their fights are specular and the make-up sex after each one is even more so.
Her voice still starts slow and smooth like honey and still works up to a fever pitch. It breaks on a high note when she clings to him, riding him hard, red nails digging into his skin, red lipstick smeared everywhere, imprinted like tattoos.
He is still ripped open and is laid bare before her, over her, under her, whether he's pinned her down or she's pinned him, with hips and hands and vicious bites. They mark each other, they own each other, and in their way, they love each other.
Their fights are spectacular and neither of them keep score. Margot knows and JD knows - when they fight, they both lose. When they make up, they both win.