Page 99 of Knotting the Firefighters
Morning.
Sunrise painting the room gold.
Bodies moving together with desperate tenderness.
His hands, his mouth, his?—
Something else happened.
The certainty surfaces briefly before slipping away, elusive as a dream upon waking. There was more than just lovemaking, more than physical connection and emotional goodbye disguised as hello.
Something significant.
Something that changed?—
What changed?
The question hovers tantalizingly close to answer before exhaustion pulls me back under, consciousness surrendering to the body's demands for continued rest.
Time loses meaning—could be minutes or hours passing, my awareness drifting in and out like tide, occasionally surfacing before retreating again into comfortable darkness.
We made love.
I remember that part.
Dawn arrived, golden light illuminating us.
His body against mine, inside mine, creating a connection that felt sacred rather than simply sexual.
And then?—
And then what?
The missing piece nags at me, a frustrating gap in memory that refuses to fill despite concentrated effort. Did we continue? Make love again? The soreness suggests repeated activity, my body carrying evidence of enthusiasm that my brain can't quite access.
Three times?
Four?
Lost count somewhere between dawn and whenever I finally passed out.
The admission should embarrass me—acting like a sex-crazed teenager rather than a responsible adult who's supposed to be recovering from injuries. But the memory carries warmth, satisfaction, and rightness that transcends social expectations about appropriate behavior.
Needed that…him. Connection before?—
Before what?
Before he leaves?
Before everything changes?
The thoughts scatter like startled birds, refusing to coalesce into a coherent narrative. My body drifts between waking and sleeping, consciousness unable to maintain a solid grip on either state.
Hungry.
The sensation arrives with sudden clarity—stomach cramping with emptiness, body demanding fuel with insistence that finally motivates movement.
When did I last eat?
