Whipped in a Thunderstorm

Fluffed up with a fork,

She teased?

Huh?

More like whipped in a thunderstorm,

He replied.

...

There was a fierceness in him.

Not in his voice,
That was but a dry whisper,
But in his eyes.
His spirit was worn
And in tatters,
Save for the nuclei
Found burning behind them.
Faded blue with streaks of indigo
But furious, feral
Almost reptilian in their life force
Resistant
Insistent.

She probed him a bit,
And found herself compelled by him.
And though she saw him vulnerable
When put against her strength, 
She knew that an almost unbreakable
Alliance had been born.