Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

He squeezes my butt when he says, “important stuff,” so
there’s no misinterpreting his meaning. The man is the
Energizer Bunny.
We’re both quiet as I gently clean the wound with a
peroxide-soaked corner of the towel. There’s a small scrap of
material from his shirt caught in the wound, crusted with
blood. When I pull it free, he starts to bleed again, so I press
down on the gash until the bleeding stops, then keep cleaning.
When I’m done with that, he hands me the needle.
Very seriously, he says, “Don’t be scared if I pass out when
you first stick me.”
I’m horrified for a second, until I realize he’s joking.
Muttering under my breath, I get to work.
It’s not as gross as I anticipated. After the first few stitches,
I’ve got the swing of it. I don’t take long to finish, and I’m
pretty pleased with myself at the results.
“Do I just cut the end of the floss or what?”
“Tie a knot, then cut it.”
I follow his instructions with the knot, but have to get off
his lap to go get the scissors in the junk drawer. Then I snip the
end and stand back to admire my work.
Apparently, he doesn’t like me standing so far away. He
pulls me back onto his lap, this time with both my legs
hanging over one side so I’m curled against him, safe in the
circle of his strong arms.
He kisses the top of my head. I sigh in contentment. Then I
yawn.
His chuckle is a low rumble under my ear. “Am I boring
you?”
I smile against his neck and tell him an outrageous lie. “So
much. You’re the most boring man on earth. It’s as dull as
watching paint dry when you’re around. Speaking of which,
how long will you be around this time?”