Chapter 8

So, if names were an expression of self…Owen frowned and thought hard…than what was food? Food and drink were…he wracked his brain, stumbling over everything from the little he knew about psychology, to religion, to plain-old street talk…the body? Sexuality, perhaps? Grape drink crystals—purple, like the man’s hair—Dennis’s supposed sure-sign of sexuality…so, gay? Was Sebastian telling Owen he was gay? Mango juice, a little exotic, a little bit different…yet vanilla ice cream was an obvious reference for plain, normal, sweet and wholesome.

“So, you’re gay,” Owen said cautiously. “And though you’re willing to wander a little bit kink-wise, my guess being the furthest reaching nothing crazier than rimming or swapping spunk, you prefer to keep your sex pleasant, squick-free, and normal.”