Chapter 16 #2
Incredulous, they cocked an eyebrow. “This is what I do when I am too lazy to style it.”
“I like it. It’s comfy and cute,” Bryce said, and Zef blinked owlishly at him.
“Are you alright? You are acting strange,” they accused as they stepped around him, their hair sliding through his fingers like satin.
Like a pathetic puppy, he followed them to their room, stopping on the threshold to lean against the door jamb. “Am I not allowed to compliment you?”
Folding their fresh laundry, they sent him a chiding chirrup, deeming that enough of a response. With four hands, they worked through their laundry quickly, and Bryce glanced at the desk where their new laptop sat.
“How’s the laptop treating you?”
“It is functional and user-friendly,” they replied.
“But do you like it?”
With an amused exhalation through their nostril slits, they said, “It is a computer, Bryce. What is there to like or dislike?”
“So pragmatic,” he teased.
“Yes,” Zef agreed without a hint of jest.
“Still up for a documentary?”
Their wings buzzed in excitement. “Very much so.”
“And you still have your heart set on the BDSM one?” he double-checked.
As they opened their closet, they withdrew several hangers. “I find the psychology behind it fascinating. Do you not?”
“I do,” Bryce said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you know that it will probably get sexual.”
“Firstly, BDSM is not inherently sexual,” they countered as they hung up their dresses. “Secondly, I am fully aware of the sexual aspects of BDSM, fetishes, and kink. Thirdly, I am not a child, and I do not appreciate the condescension.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, fair enough. I didn’t mean to come across condescending. I just didn’t want another porn-meltdown moment.”
“Depictions of sexuality are not the same as pornography. Pornography, if we are speaking generally without nuance, is vulgar and demeaning, pandering to the patriarchy, portraying problematic stereotypes, and perpetuating pernicious sexual practices.”
“That was a lot of alliteration,” Bryce said, and Zef huffed.
“Sexuality and intimacy can be beautiful when exchanged between enthusiastically consenting adults who, at minimum, respect each other and, at max, love each other. Simply because I do not wish to take part in those activities does not mean I am repulsed by the mere existence of them.” They crossed all four arms over their chest and jutted their chin, as if to say, “So there!”
“Okay, go off, queen.”
Their wings flared, flicking in annoyance, and he decided to stop goading them.
“So, is there porn you like watching?” he asked, purely to satisfy selfish curiosity.
“Porn?” they said significantly, gesturing to the laptop. “No. But pornographical imagery to educate or to depict art and beauty? Yes. I may not feel sexual gratification, but I am still a person who experiences beauty and pleasure in this world.”
And, hold up, they were in untrodden territory now.
“Uh, can you rewind a sec?” he asked as Zef disappeared in their bathroom.
“I do not wish to split hairs on what does or does not constitute pornography, Bryce.”
“That’s not what I meant. About the, uh, sexual gratification.”
They stepped back into their bedroom and splayed all four hands. “And what about that would you like me to elaborate on?”
“All of it,” he demanded.
“I do not feel sexual gratification,” they repeated.
Straightening, Bryce pantomimed with his hands. “Elaborate more please.”
Their lower hands fisted on their hips as their upper arms crossed over their chest. “I do not feel it. I cannot feel it. My body is incapable of feeling it.”
“And when you say, it?”
“Orgasm, Bryce,” they said, volume jumping several notches. “I do not orgasm. Mantodeas do not orgasm. Our bodies lack the ability to, aside from mutations or genetic abnormalities. It is probably one of the driving factors for why we do not fuck.
“Now”—they smiled demurely at him—“was that elaborate enough?”
They disappeared back into their bathroom as Bryce stood in the doorway in shock.
His brain glitched as he worked to wrap it around the idea of an entire species being incapable of achieving sexual pleasure.
Though, he supposed it made sense on an evolutionary basis, since they could impregnate themselves and, thus, had no reason to engage in sex at all.
But still… What?
“You can’t come?” Bryce cried, and Zef sighed, long and forlorn, like their life was immeasurably difficult.
Their head popped back into view. “No, Bryce, I cannot.”
“Not even when you’re alone?” he said stupidly.
Their expression was definitely patronizing as they said, “Do you spontaneously orgasm when you are alone?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do not,” they said.
Embarrassed now, Bryce mumbled out, “You know, masturbation.”
“Ancestors give me strength,” they lamented. “I know what you meant. I was answering your question. No, I do not masturbate. If I tried, it would not accomplish anything because I can not, do not, will not ever achieve orgasm. Nor would it be pleasurable or productive to attempt it.”
“I think my brain is breaking,” he admitted, and Zef grinned in amusement.
“That is because you have penis-brain, ruled by sexual hormones and base animal urges, so you cannot fathom someone like me who has a brain-brain.” They grimaced. “And now I must live the rest of my life knowing I have uttered those words in that specific sequence aloud.”
“I think I need a minute,” Bryce whispered.
They pressed their top hands together, as if in prayer. “Wonderful, now I can finish cleaning my bathroom.”
As Zef puttered around in their bathroom, Bryce backed out of their doorway and shuffled into the living room. He meant to sit on the couch but somehow missed the actual cushion. Instead of catching himself, he went with it, letting his ass meet the floor as he leaned against the frame.
His brain—penis or otherwise—was racing a mile a minute, already drawing parallels to the vast amount of organisms in the known universe that didn’t engage in sex, that could reproduce asexually, even some that didn’t have a reproductive system at all.
The evolutionary basis and evidence was everywhere.
So why was he finding it so difficult to equate that with Zef?
Because he was still stuck in the sex-centric mindset of the culture he was raised in that demanded people like Zef didn’t—or shouldn’t—exist? Maybe. Or, like Zef claimed, he was simply not wired that way and couldn’t quite understand that experience? Very possible.
Shock was a factor too, he reasoned. In all the books he’d read and the research he’d done, he had never come across that fun fact about Mantodean anatomy. So yeah, he was rather shaken.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Zef joined him in the living room, gracefully lowering themself onto the floor beside him. Knees up, they rested their top arms on them as their lower arms folded over their stomach. They didn’t look at Bryce, and Bryce didn’t look at them.
“Sorry for freaking out,” he said. “It took me off guard.”
“I could tell,” they said with a smile in their voice. “I thought you knew.”
Bryce shook his head. “Nope. None of my books ever mentioned it.”
“Perhaps it is not as important of a fact as you think it is,” they said, not unkindly.
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Picking it as his sweats, he chose his words carefully.
“It feels important because, in this world, sex is important. Nearly everything we do is, advertently or inadvertently, fueled by our drive for sex and pleasure. So for that to simply not exist for you is wild.”
“I could say the same thing about you and your pursuit of sticking your penis in things.”
That had his head shooting up, jaw dropping, and Zef chuckled quietly, smugly.
“Hey now, us allosexuals ain’t a monolith either.”
“You do not want to put your penis in things?” they asked guilelessly.
“Preferably not,” he snapped back, and Zef’s smile dropped.
They angled their torso toward him. “That is interesting. Elaborate please.”
“It’s called sexual preferences. We all have them,” he said loftily. “Or, well, most of us have them.”
He knocked their shoulders together, making Zef release a snuff of humor. “Elaborate more.”
Enjoying the role reversal, he did his best not to blush like a teenager. “For the most part, I prefer other forms of sex. Using my mouth and hands. Frotting and grinding and stuff. Sex is more than penetration, you know?”
“From my understanding, that viewpoint is not common among the general populace. Specifically, the male populace,” Zef said.
“Patriarchy strikes again,” Bryce said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s not a popular opinion, but for me, penetration is only okay. When me and Jacob were together, we hardly ever had penetrative sex, and it was… it was just really nice.”
Zef mulled that over for nearly a full minute before they nodded in approval. “Whether it is popular or not, I find it a lovely viewpoint on sex and intimacy.”
“Thanks.”
They sat in a comfortable silence for another few minutes before Bryce gathered the courage to say, “There’s something nagging at me, but I don’t know how to ask delicately.”
“I think we are past delicacy,” they said, gaze heavy on the side of his face.
“Okay, here goes. Doesn’t it bother you?” He hesitantly met Zef’s milky stare. “Don’t you get angry or jealous?”
“Jealous?” they repeated, utterly bewildered.
“Well, yeah, ’cause how is it fair? Feeling pleasure is, like, the most basic human—er person—experience, and not to be able to feel it—”
“Oh, Bryce, my dear, dear… Bryce.” Zef turned, curling their legs behind them as they gazed at him like he was the silliest, most innocent little kid. “I never said I do not experience pleasure.”
Okay, he was getting frustrated now. “But you said—”