“Sam. I've got news for you. Not every childhood trauma can be healed by finding the right penis."Sam looked devastated. He opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide, then suddenly slumped back against the railing, unable to support himself anymore. "You mean," his voice was barely a whisper. "All those romance novels lied?”

“He made me pick a safe word." Nik peeked between his fingers. Sam's mouth was hanging open."Oh." Sam's voice was a whisper. More of the throat clearing. "What did you pick?"Not the question he'd been expecting. Nik looked up at Sam from under his hand."Lemonade.""Lemonade?" Nik nodded. "Do you like lemonade?""Does it matter? Yes, I like lemonade.""Shouldn't you have picked something you didn't like, to make sure there were no, um, inadvertent exclamations at an important moment?"He dropped his hand and stared at Sam. "Who screams out 'lemonade' in the middle of sex?"Sam blushed. Nik was momentarily grateful for his dark skin. "You'd be surprised," Sam mumbled.”

“Jeez, you’re strong.” And you, Sam, are a conversational reject.”

“I got hard and he was there and the next thing I knew he was on his knees. I mean, I was going to step away, but he licked me.”

“Macho and manly and stern and, oh man. Sam sighed. Guys like this were never gay. They were always the ones chasing the homos.”

“I thought you wanted to leave me." Jurgen sounded dazed.Nik patted his chest. "My poor, big, dumb asshole." He sighed, kissing Jurgen's neck. "Why didn't you just ask me?"Nik could feel the dumbfounded rising up from Jurgen's skin. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I didn't need to ask you if I knew how to fix it.""Oh, Jurgen." Nik patted him some more, petting his sternum. "We could probably spend a few years and thousands of dollars in psychologist's fees figuring you out, couldn't we?”

“Why are all you hets all so intercourse-centric? There's a lot more to sex than sticking it in and wiggling it around.”