Spark

That word. Said or unsaid, doesn’t matter.

That second moment, walking to the room, was different. Urgent. Conspirators, this time. A heated rush, corridors too long, doors too distant.

Inside, the tension lands. A look becomes touch. And touch, that quickening fire, was suddenly more... limbs entwined, lips, smell, electric heat.

Recognition. Connection. Distance, dismissed, became urgent grasping. Tightness. Holding close. Sharp inhales. Long exhales.

And laughter. Smiles. Flurry of limbs. Water and shy wonder, exploring, understanding.

The first moment was different. Sparse but certain words, arranged times, proposed acts. “Electric,” he said later. To my husband, as we tried to capture it. “Electric from the first.”

Hard to say how my husband felt, hearing that. He said little, just smiled, maybe chuckled.

And even earlier, he’d said, “You have a boyfriend in another city now, and that’s entirely okay.”

Heart beating fast, humbled by generosity. A man watching his husband and his boyfriend talk. Tight chest. Heat.

But that first meet. First moment. Wild, not abandoned. Heated flurry of limbs, so many words, shy but certain. Five hours in the place of two, time rushing, slowing, rushing. Electric.

Could say I knew, but I’d just be saying. I knew later. And I still know.

That word I shouldn’t say. That word I should only use at home.

That word I dared say.

“A flutter in my chest,” he said later, of his feeling when I said it.

And warmth in my chest, both times, even now.

When it was shyly mentioned at home? Assertion that there was no limit to it, and that it could be shared without diminishing either.

So now there’s both. One unrestrained. One restrained by culture, shyness, fear. Need.

Enough to know it’s real. Every moment. The doubts. Wide-eyed smiles. Joys. Fears. That word.

Yes, that word. Said or unsaid, doesn’t matter.

Only now.