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Summary
“Psssh,” Cecil says, and waves one hand. “What is sex really? Like, is it laying on the beach during low tide? Or perhaps it’s listening to the deep, oaky tones of your soft-spoken partner. It could be the sulfur-and-viscera scent of a just-lit candle, or the ancient chants of a newly purchased blender, or—”
It’s then that Carlos realizes his boyfriend literally has no idea what sex is.
