Dex liked the nervous tell; not only because it made them sound like wind chimes, but because it proved they weren’t actually carved from ice. They were flesh and bone, just like him, and he wanted to reach out and take their hand, if only to feel the heat of their blood pumping through their veins.
The idea made his palms prickle strangely, like the beginnings of a nervous sweat. Which was… weird.
Sure, he got nervous around pretty girls just like the next guy, but it was still weird that the thought of takingCya’shand was causing it now. They were hot—he’d have to be blind not to see that—but they weren’t a girl, and for as long as he could remember, he’d been straight.
If he was being honest, he’d never actually thought too hard about his sexuality. He’d always liked girls and never questioned things further. But if he was into Cya, what did that mean?
Maybe nothing. But also, maybe something?
For a moment, he tried to imagine kissing a dude, a dude with facial hair or fur, a dude with a hard, unyielding body or muscles like his. He wrinkledhis nose; he didn’t think he’d be into that. He liked girls because they were pretty and soft and curvy and almost always smelled nice.
But boys could be pretty too. They could be soft and curvy, and they could smell nice.
Propping a foot on his knee, Dex considered kissing a femme guy. One who maybe wore make-up and whose skin or fur was really soft and moisturized. And maybe he wore heels and skirts and smelled like herbs and incense.
Okay, yeah. Yeah, Dex could get behind that.
Except, under the skirt, there’d be a dick, and he’d never considered interacting with a dick that wasn’t his own. He’d probably be bad at it, at least when it came to giving head, but he could learn, right? He knew what felt good when receiving a blowjob, and even though he probably had a sensitive gag reflex, that was something he could fix.
“You can train your gag reflex, right? So you don’t accidentally puke on some dude’s dick?” Dex voiced his musings aloud, making Cya choke on the tea they were still nursing.
“Who starts a conversation like that?” they demanded between harsh coughs.
“Well, I had a whole train of thought leading up to it,” he defended as Cya glared at him. “I was just thinking that, if the guy was pretty enough, I could probably gobble dick. I’d just have to train my gag reflex because I’ve never actually, you know…”
He ended his speech by clumsily pantomiming sucking a dick, and the Sypent’s face darkened a shade. “Gobble dick?” they hissed in horror. “Why would you say it like that?”
“Oh, is that offensive to the dick-sucking community? I didn’t mean it as an insult. I was just thinking.”
Molars grinding, Cya stared at him, cheeks aflame with a blush. “Thinking about fellatio?”
“Is that rich people talk for a blowie?”
“Shh, people can hear you,” they snapped as they slouched lower in their seat and half-covered their face with a hand.
Dex looked around to see if anyone was eavesdropping, but no one paid them any mind. “Chillax, no one’s listening.”
“I don’t care. I’m not talking about that with you.”
They were sitting so low in their seat that their tail folded on a joint—that would have been their knees if they’d had legs—and pressed to the seat in front of them. The end of their tail flicked erratically, giving away their discomfort.
He lowered his voice to a hushed murmur. “But what if I’m on the verge of a gay epiphany or something? Who else am I supposed to talk to about it?”
“You’re not having a gay epiphany, Dex,” they said, rubbing the space between their eyes.
“How do you know? I just realized that I would be down with a dick in my mouth as long as the dick was attached to someone pretty and femme. That feels like a gay epiphany to me,” he insisted.
They shot him a glare. “Genitals don’t equal gender.”
“I know.”
“So your sexuality isn’t in question just because you could like a woman who has a dick.”
“But what if they were a femme guy? Is it gay for me to be into that?”
They turned their glare out the window and shrugged. “Probably a little, but you don’t have to turn it into a sexuality crisis.”
“It’s not a crisis. I don’t care if I’m a little gay. I’m still me, even if, under certain circumstances, I’m into dick,” he said honestly, and Cya faced him again, brows rising in surprise. “But it’s important to know that kind of thing about myself, right?”
