Free Starting Point by N.R. Walker

involved.”
    “You care, Matt. It’s what makes you, you.” Then after a few moments silence, he said, “I haven’t earned the right.”
    I snorted. “Yes you have.”
    “How long are you going to think you owe me?”
    Well, that was simple. “Every day of forever.”
    Kira smiled, looking from the road ahead to me. The seriousness was now gone. “And just what does that entail?”
    “Back rubs, massages, breakfast in bed, awesome blow jobs.”
    Now he laughed. “I can live with that.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The next week was much the same. I kept busy at work, kept my appointments with Tamara and spent my nights wrapped around Kira. Some nights we opted for no TV and simply talked—about his work and mine, his family, my therapy sessions, about the news, about the back garden. It didn’t matter what we talked about, the fact was…we talked.
    They were my favourite nights. We’d cook dinner, well, he’d cook and I’d clean up, and we’d just talk.
    It wasn’t exciting, it wasn’t overly romantic. It was probably mundane, and probably boring to some, but to me it was perfect.
    We needed to get back to basics. We needed to learn how to trust and how to be a couple again, and communication was paramount in that.
    It gave us an intimacy I’d never thought possible.
    It was like falling in love all over again.
    It was Tuesday night, we’d eaten dinner and had moved to the sofa. Kira took the mail off the coffee table and laid back with a sigh, exhausted from his long day at work. I climbed over him, settling myself in between his legs with my back to his front, my head on his chest. I shuffled in till I was comfortable, making him laugh and groan. “You all right there?”
    “I am now.”
    He wrapped his arms around me and the pile of unread mail sat square on my chest. I opened the first few bills, nothing unexpected, but the last envelope was plain white, and when I opened the letter we both saw the familiar logo on the top right corner. It was the pathology results from my last lot of bloods taken after my stay in hospital. Cage fighting was a high-contact blood sport and there was a risk of contamination. I’d had extensive testing when I’d been admitted to hospital, then three months after and again at six months.
    The first and second results had come back fine, but it was still daunting to open the letter for a third time. Kira slid his hands over mine and we read it together, squeezing my hand as we read the results. All was clear—I had a perfect bill of health.
    I exhaled in relief and taking his hand, brought it to my chest. “I still can’t believe I came away from those fights unscathed.”
    Kira leant forward and kissed the side of my head, above my useless ear. “Not completely.”
    “I have my health, and I have you,” I replied.
    As we lay there in silence, Kira ran his fingers through my hair. I tossed the mail onto the coffee table. “Kira,” I said softly, but seriously. “I want to tell you something.”
    He tensed underneath me, the briefest of reactions, but it was enough to remind me that I’d caused him reason to be wary of my confessions.
    Unprotected sex was something we’d talked about before, but given the bloody nature of MMA fighting, with the cuts, the blood, the contact—even my job as a cop came with risks of contact—so unprotected sex hadn’t been an option for us.
    But now it was. I wanted to give him everything. I wanted him to know it was just for him. Neither of us had ever experienced it before and I wanted to prove to him I trusted him with my health, with my body, with my life.
    I took his hands, and wrapped his arms around me. “Well, it’s not really telling. It’s more asking, but I just want to put something out in the open and you don’t have to answer me or decide anything. I just want you to think about it and you can let me know when you’re ready.”
    “Okay,” he said, still hesitant, but more curious now.
    “When you’re ready,”