“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 randommainstream 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.
