I exhaled through my nose and looked at the paused scene on my laptop’s screen before looking back at him.
“When I think about intimacy with Cove, I do not think about myself.”
Ben’s expression sobered again.
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 ofvideos 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.”
