Chapter 42: The Baptism of Water and Wood

Chapter 42: The Baptism of Water and Wood

After recovering from our first encounter, we stood up with our bodies still warm. We went to the bathroom and got under the shower together. There, under that artificial rain that fell hot and washed away the remains of the dust of the road, we joined again. But this time it was different: the rush had evaporated. It was an encounter guided by slow caresses, wet kisses and leisurely movements that were born from a deep need to belong.

At that moment I really touched him. I ran every line of his back, adored his broad shoulders, recognized him in his hidden scars, pampered and caressed him with a devotion so sacred that it seemed like a prayer. Ethan closed his eyes and gave himself completely to my hands, my kisses, my movements and my passion. No hurry. Without the ghost of the clock dictating the rules. We moved to the rhythm of the water hitting the tiles until we both broke free at the same time, in a clean, coordinated burst. There were no worries, there were no fears, there were no ghosts. We were both crystal clear about what we wanted.

When I left, I put on one of his cotton shirts, the one that was huge and smelled of his woody perfume. I went to the kitchen barefoot, my body floating in a cloud of peace, while he was in charge of lighting the fireplace in the living room to chase away the cold of the Icelandic night.

When we got together to get started on our cooking routine, everything felt transformed. It was no longer the hygienic procedure of my past years; This time it was a warm and intimate game. I jumped onto the high kitchen counter, sitting with my legs dangling. Ethan came over with the ingredients and we started making something quick, but the real food wasn't in the pan. He gave me small bites in my mouth and I reciprocated him in the same way, savoring the complicity, the seasoning and the contained laughter. It was extremely satisfying.

Ethan shortened the final distance. It positioned itself right in the middle of my open legs, allowing our bodies to fit perfectly, comfortable, breathing the same air. With our typical glass of wine in hand, we clinked the windows in a mute toast, laughing at the absurd happiness that overwhelmed us and enjoying each other's physical warmth. The magnetism of the wood and the fire of the fireplace did their thing. Right there, on the kitchen counter, we reunited. I lost count of how many times we went from laughter to desire that night, but there was no tiredness in our muscles. There was only a total, absolute and selfless dedication on the part of both of them. We had found paradise in the north.