When I push my hand between her legs, they fall open like a book that’s been waiting to be read. She covers my hand with hers, gives me a guided tour of what she wants. I make circles to keep her safe. I make figure eights, tiny eternity symbols. I’m afraid, the whole time, that I’m on the exact edge of losing her.

But she said this is what she wanted.

And I believe her.

I lift away from the tree because I can’t ignore how uncomfortable the bark is, all the places it doesn’t fit my body. I’m a mess of bark, and Rush quietly brushes it off me until I’m naked again.

Then she lies down. And she waits for me, with a look that is patience and impatience in perfect tension, about to explode. I kneel, and the ground roughs up my knees. I remember that Rush hasn’t done this with anybody before (not even her), so when I take hold of her hips, bend low, and brush a kiss on the inside of each thigh, touch my tongue to the exact place I’ve been aching for, I keep it slow. Gentle and lulling and sweet. She is earthy and salty, she is the dark forest near the sea, and I want to stay here, live here, never come back. Soon she’s pushing against me.

And then I find it.

And she is flying. I slide my hands beneath her as her stomach rises, hips completely off the ground. She kept me safe when I was out beyond the trees, and now it’s my turn. I hold on to her as she strains. Rush makes noises that are pure sound, not even an attempt at words or melody.

Then she blinks like she’s just woken up from a very long sleep. I ask if she’s okay, and she responds with the widest smile I’ve ever seen, shine moving over her face slowly as she reaches for me. She gives me a little nudge, moves me so I’m positioned over her, her body stretched long beneath me. Her hands move up and all over me, exploring unknown territory. She’s not the first person to touch me, but no one has ever mapped my skin like this.

She pauses long enough to look up at me. “Hi, Danny.” Somehow I know that she’s tasting my name.