Chapter 21 #2
I disliked how vulnerable the admission felt, though the words themselves were nothing but accurate.
I had spent days trying to identify what my mind reached for when desire emerged, and the answer was consistently not my own gratification.
I did not imagine taking from Cove. I did not imagine conquering him, despite the disturbing number of videos that seemed to equate desire with aggression.
I did not even particularly imagine my own pleasure, except as a distant consequence that might or might not become relevant.
What I imagined was Cove unraveling.
I imagined his face flushed from something other than anger or despair. I imagined his hands gripping me by choice, desperate for what I could give him. I imagined finding every place his body could be coaxed into pleasure and learning them with the same devotion he gave to the animals in his care.
I imagined giving.
The thought unsettled me because it felt less like fantasy and more like purpose.
“I think about his pleasure,” I explained. “His responses. What would make him feel good. Do you think that’s a problem?”
Ben did not answer immediately, and when he did, his voice had lost all amusement. “No, Tobias. That is not a problem.”
“It is not?”
“No. Honestly, in your case, that might be the least alarming thing you’ve said all week.”
I ignored that. “It does not seem consistent with the videos.”
“Again. Porn is not a universal manual.”
“I also do not particularly think about inserting myself into him,” I said, choosing the most neutral phrasing available. “And I feel adverse to the idea of him inserting himself into me.”
Ben inhaled slowly. “Okay…”
“Is it? You don’t sound so sure about it.”
“No, it’s fine, Tobias. Sure, it may be a bit different, but it’s fine. I was just deciding how to explain what I’m thinking.”
“Explain then.”
He leaned back, rubbing one hand over his jaw.
“Yeah, um, look… Some people like penetration, some don’t.
Some like giving more than receiving. Some like control, some like service, some like toys, some like hands, mouths, friction, restraint, praise, pain, softness, roleplay, whatever.
There are a lot of ways to have sex with someone. ”
I was silent for a moment before repeating, “Service.”
Ben’s brows lifted faintly. “Yeah?”
Service.
The word was imprecise but not useless.
It suggested attention, control expressed through care, dominance made meaningful by the other person’s pleasure rather than one’s own acquisition of it. That was closer. Not complete, but closer.
“If it is about Cove,” Ben continued, watching me carefully now, “then maybe you should look at material where the focus is on the receiving partner’s pleasure, not just whatever porn category you stumbled into.”
“I searched gay sex.”
Ben’s eyes lifted toward the ceiling like he was asking a higher power for patience. “Fucking… That explains a lot, mate.”
“It was the obvious term.”
“It was the broadest possible term.”
“You said there are toys,” I supplied, going over the rudimentary list he’d said and finding myself interested in what exactly that entailed.
Ben’s gaze snapped back to mine, and for a second, I had the satisfaction of surprising him. “Yes, yeah—”
“What kinds?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed so deeply it seemed to pain him.
“There are external toys, internal toys, vibrators, plugs, prostate toys, sleeves, restraints—though maybe let’s keep you away from that last category for the immediate future.
” He looked at me for a moment longer, then shook his head and stood.
“Look,” he said, pointing toward the laptop.
“If you’re going to keep researching, don’t watch random mainstream stuff and decide all sex is ridiculous.
Look for queer creators who focus on actual intimacy.
Look for things centered around pleasure and communication, not just fucking. ”
“Communication.”
“Yes.”
“I am not bad at communication.”
Ben gave me a long look. “You are catastrophically bad at communication with Cove.”
“I’m honest.”
“You are honest in the most alarming possible way.”
“That is not the same thing.”
I disliked that I saw his point.
Ben walked toward the door, then paused with one hand on the frame. “Pretend this conversation never happened?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
He nodded, then left.
For several minutes after the door closed, I remained still behind my desk.
Then I reopened the laptop.
This time, I searched more carefully.
I wanted to understand.
I wanted the information arranged in a way that made sense. I wanted to know what might make Cove shiver for reasons other than cold or terror. I wanted to know what kinds of touch might allow him to close his eyes without flinching. I wanted to know how to make him moan for me.
Make him sing.
The second search produced different results.
I watched with the sound muted at first, studying expressions rather than mechanics. Faces mattered more than movement. Hands paused. Bodies responded. The person receiving pleasure was watched not as an object but as a guide, their reactions shaping every next decision.
That, I understood.
Or began to.
There was a toy involved in the third video.
I paused it, then rewound.
Then watched again, more interested than aroused at first, because the principle was fascinating. Pleasure delivered indirectly. Intensity built through observation, adjustment, patience, and control.
The person on screen arched up as the dildo was pushed into his hole, his eyes screwing shut and mouth dropping open on a long cry.
The one giving smiled against their partner’s skin and pressed a small button at the base of the toy.
Immediately, the receiver bucked his hips, writhing so intensely that the giver had to hold him down as they started fucking it into him, all while murmuring soft praises that were countered by increasingly desperate moans and pleas.
I leaned closer.
The appeal unfolded with sudden, startling clarity.
Not the toy itself, but the response.
The capacity to give sensation while watching it move through someone else. The ability to learn, to adjust, to hold another person at the edge of what they could bear and then decide whether to soften or intensify based entirely on what their body asks for.
A service, perhaps.
A study, yes.
A devotion, absolutely.