That was love. That was months of pent-up sexual tension between us and months more of sexual tension built up inside me—years of it, perhaps. A year, year and a half? When did I begin wanting things in bed that Dutchie couldn’t or wouldn’t give me?
“You know," Felix says, apropos of nothing. "You can tell me what you're thinking and feeling. Even if you just need to get it out and don’t want any, like, man-fix-it reactions from me. I can be your sounding board." A pause. "Even if it's about your husband and your relationship with him. I'm not threatened by that. It won't hurt me."
"I was just trying to figure out if I do really love you or if that was a heat-of-the-moment thing." Before he can react, I continue. "And it was real. I do love you. But it was more than that. What we just shared, Fee, it was…a lot of things for me. And that's why this is a complex moment for me, trying to figure out what I'm feeling because it's all tangled up and confusing."
"It's okay if it was a heat-of-the-moment thing, Ember. Don't ever give me the easy-to-hear lie, okay?"
I sling my thigh over his groin, palm his cheek, gaze into his eyes. "Fee, I meant it. I mean it. Iamin love with you."
He searches me, and I see relief wash over him. "Thank fuck. Had me scared for a second."
“You know,” I say, echoing him from a moment ago, “you don't have to be understanding about everything all the time, Felix. You can be scared, too. You can share your negative feelings with me. I want you to."
"I just want it to mean as much to you as it does to me." He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Just now, and this relationship, however you want to define it or not define it. If you don't want to label it…I mean, it's not what I want, but I’ll get it and I'll be okay with it if you need more time to be able to put us in that box."
I let my head droop down to his chest again. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the sex."
"How so?"
"You said it was the best you've ever had."
"It is—you are. By several orders of magnitude."
"That's tricky for me, Fee. Because on one hand, I feel the same way. I've only had multiple orgasms a few times before. Like, just to be clear, sex with Dutchiewasgood. He was…attentive. Generous. He took care of me. I always felt loved and…wanted. But…it wasn't always intense. Or wild. We’ve talked about this."
"We have.”
"And…" I let out a shaky breath. "Now that we're on the other side of having sex together, it's even more…real, I guess. What I was worried about."
"Which is?" he asks. "I mean, I know, but I think it may help you to put it out there again."
"It was the best sex of my life, Felix," I whisper, struggling against tears of overwhelmed, mixed-up emotion. "And that’s complicated for me. Like, I really, really,reallyfucking loved Dutchie. I loved our relationship. I loved being with him. But I…I wasn't always satisfied, especially in the last…I dunno—that's what I'm trying to sort out. How long did I feel that way? How long was I wanting more sexually that Dutchie couldn't or wouldn't give me? And what are those things?"
"And?" he prompts. "Come up with any answers?"
“Trying to." I slide my thigh off of him and trace the grooves and slabs of his absurdly shredded midsection. "It was about a year and a half before he died that I tuned in to my feelings of wanting to—for lack of a less cliché term—spice things up. I mean, in an eight-year relationship, things get…habitual. Comfortable. And that's okay. That’s life, that's long-term relationships. But I wanted…" I sigh.
"You can say it."
"I wanted him to take charge more. To initiate more. Not necessarily be more aggressive, let alone more 'alpha' or anything toxic like that. Just…I…I didn't always want it to be sweet and loving, and that's just how he was."
"Did you talk to him about this?"
I nod. "Oh yeah. Of course. A few times. And it was—he tried. But he felt awkward, like he was pretending to be something he wasn't. So we went back to how things were. And I just…I can't help wondering what would have happened if he hadn't died. Would that low-level discontent have built up inside me to become a problem? Like, I wasn't unhappy—I swear I wasn't. And don't get me wrong, Idowant to be treated like that sometimes, too. Sweet. Gentle. Loving. Careful. Tender. All that. I love that. But…"
He doesn't fill the space. He lets it stand, lets me take my time filling it.
"You gave me exactly what I needed, Felix." It's a small, careful whisper. "Obviously, the physical pleasure was off the charts, but emotionally? I…you gave me the space to express myself. You took charge when I needed you to without restricting me."
"And that's a super confusing feeling," he guesses.
"Very." I let the question percolate before I ask it. “Do you have any fantasies, Felix?”
"Yeah,” he answers immediately. “You."
"No, Fee, for real. No bullshit. Do you?"
He swallows. "Um. Yeah, I mean…of course. But there are fantasies that are just for fun and fantasies that you might actually want to experience. Which are you asking about?"
