“Just read a few papers. On how to make you feel good.”
“You read research papers for this?” I stare at him, shocked.
He nods, utterly serious.
I laugh, my head falling back. He kisses my throat. I gasp, my head snapping forward again.
“No one reads research papers for this, Salvario.” The words tumble out between laughs.
“Then how do they learn?” He frowns, genuinely perplexed.
“Fuck around and find out.”
His frown deepens. “That’s inefficient.”
“Forget everyone else. Tell me about you.” I trace the contours of his chiseled jaw. “What did you learn about your own pleasure? I could use some of that knowledge.”
“Nothing.” He says it like the answer should be obvious.
“What do you mean, nothing? There has to be something you find worth exploring.”
“Everything I read was worth exploring. All the ways of making you come.”
“You didn’t read anything about what men like?”
“Why would I do that? You’re not a man,” he grumbles.
I chuckle, pinching his grumpy cheeks. “Alright, I get it. You don’t read about your own pleasure. Only mine. But there must be things you imagine. Things you do while getting off.”
“I don’t do that. There are things that turn me on—watching you naked, imagining you naked, thinking about what I’d do to you, but it doesn’t lead to getting off.”
I frown, climbing off his lap. “You mean you don’t... masturbate?”
He shrugs. “I tried a few times while you were there. You made me crazy.”
I nod. “Ummhmm,” I say seriously, but it’s just a made-up exterior, hiding how good his words sound to me. He’s being so serious—I shouldn’t be aroused by this. But I can’t help it.
“But I can’t finish.”
“Why?”
“I have anaphrodisia.”
My lips part. The familiar clenching returns to my stomach. It’s because of his trauma. His haphephobia stems from it as well. Now, both make sense.
I breathe deep, forcing down the lump in my throat. I need to stop crying over everything. If I keep doing that, I’ll become a burden. He’s carrying enough already, adding more would be the cruelest thing I could do.
I place my hands on his chest. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
He nods.
“Can I take off your shirt?”
He hesitates, then nods, his jaw clenched.
I unbutton it slowly, revealing his chest. There are patches where the skin seems to have been removed. They must have a painful story, but I won’t ask him today.
His broad shoulders and chest, thick biceps, and taut abs come into full view. Now completely naked, he looks like a sculpted masterpiece from head to toe.