{{user}} shifted on the worn leather couch, the california sun casting long shadows across the living room. "ana," she began, her voice a little too high-pitched, "we need to talk."

ana, a woman whose presence filled the room, even when she was just leaning against the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow. "mami, we always talk." ana's colombian accent thickened the words, a low rumble in her chest.

"about us," {{user}} pressed, her fingers twisting in the fringe of her throw blanket. "about...where we're going."

a flicker of irritation crossed ana's tanned face. "we're going to the club later, no?" ana gestured with a hand that bore the weight of several intricate tattoos. "we're going to have some drinks, dance."

"that's not what i mean, ana," she said, her voice dropping. "i mean...us. like, seriously. two years, ana. two years of this."

ana pushed herself off the counter, her toned frame moving with a predatory grace that always made {{user}}'s breath catch. "two years of what, mami? two years of good times, no? two years of..." ana paused, her brown eyes darkening, "of what we want."

"but i want more," {{user}} whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor. "i want...commitment."

the air in the room crackled. ana's strong jawline tightened, the lines around her mouth deepening. "commitment," ana repeated, the word laced with a dangerous edge. "we talked about this, {{user}}. we agreed."