J. S. Kuiken

Lately, I’ve become dissatisfied with sex scenes in fiction. More specifically, the types featured in romance novels and fanfiction. I have to say there is nothing wrong with the sex scenes in these stories. They have a purpose and fulfill that particular purpose. I have just found the sex scenes in some of these stories to be so graphic and over the top they turned me off. One scene in particular was so graphic that it was gross to me.

I write a lot of sex scenes myself. One of my novellas is very explicit because it details a man’s particular sexual journey. I write sex scenes because it is very much a part of the characters and the story. But along the way, I’ve found myself being overly graphic. I think it’s easy to fall into that trap. I’m going to work on improving my approach to sex scenes and be more impressionistic, rather than overly realist and graphic and writing in every last detail.

To that end, I rewrote a sex scene in my current novella to be a little less graphic. In the process, I found myself writing more about the characters, which, I think, lends a nice human touch which further keeps this from being gross or overly graphic.

I have a long way to go to be where I want to be with this particular aspect of my writing, but it’s a start.

I’ve decided to share the drafts of both scenes so you can compare and contrast the original and the rewritten scene. Below the cut, you can find both of those.

Some context: this story is about a May-December romance. Ren is nineteen and Paul is forty-two. In this segment, Ren has told Paul he loves him. Paul is very ambivalent about this. He doesn’t think Ren is old enough/mature enough to really understand what that means.

Original Draft

Once they were both in bed they spent a lot of time kissing, nibbling lips, sucking tongues, and moaning into kisses. Their hands roamed their bodies. They drew each other nearer and nearer until their bodies rocked together. Paul felt Ren’s panting against his shoulder and Ren’s cock hardening against the inside of his thigh. They kissed some more until Paul got the lube and began fingering Ren. Ren shivered looking excited, happy, arching up into Paul’s touch and groaning.

“Paul. Oh Paul,” Ren said.

Paul was frightened whenever Ren said his name in passion. It felt too intimate, even for this. Like Ren owned a part of him just by saying his name.

Paul kissed him and he sighed, a happy sound.

Ren was languid as Paul pulled his fingers out and rubbed the lube on his own cock. Languid still, and smiling, as Paul took his thighs in his hands. And yet still as Paul teased Ren’s entrance with his cock.

“Oh god, fuck me.”

Ren was a pretty beger, especially as his face was turning red.

“What do you say?”

Paul kissed Ren’s bent knee.

“Please,” Ren stammered.

Paul pushed himself in quickly, going as deep as he could. Ren cried out. Paul moved rapidly, hips snapping, and knew neither of them were going to last long. Ren cried out again and he wound his arms around him. Paul felt Ren’s heels in the small of his back, urging him on. Paul reached between them and began stroking Ren’s cock. Ren moaned, said Paul’s name over and over and then I love you, I love you, his fingernails digging into Paul’s shoulders. I love you, Paul, I love you.

Paul came with a surprised and painful jerk, mid-stroke. His cum half trickled out of Ren.

Ren groaned and took his own cock in hand. He leaned up for a kiss from Paul even as he was whispering Paul’s name. He came with a soft strangled sound, his cum on his chest and stomach.

Ren looked at Paul and laughed. He crawled up to Paul, who was standing at the edge of the bed, and wrapped his arms and legs around him, smearing his cum over the both of them.

Paul held Ren briefly, not even knowing what to do.

Probably it was best to talk to Ren.

Paul asked Ren if he wanted tea or coffee.

---

Rewritten Draft

Paul stood in the doorway of his bedroom and crossed his arms as Ren hopped out of his boxer-briefs. The afternoon sun spilled through the narrow gaps in the blinds, dusting Ren with gold. He got into bed and the gold was all over him, lovely lines whispering over Ren’s nipples, his belly, his half hard cock, his ass. Paul forgot what exactly he was going to say to Ren and felt himself instead taking his own clothes off.

Kisses. Close-lipped kisses. Chaste kisses. Kisses deepening, become more urgent. Filthy, heated kisses. Kisses with panting and strangled noises and bodies rocking against each other.

Paul cupped Ren in his arms. He leaned down, murmuring in Ren’s ear: “I’m going to fuck you.”

Ren’s whine made Paul’s cock harden all the more and he kissed Ren again, kissed him because he loved him, even though he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — say.

Lube slick on Paul’s finger as he cradled Ren, kissing him and telling him how beautiful he was. His finger was gentle, he hoped, as he entered Ren. The younger man made a noise, a humming, like contentment, and rolled his hips so he could take more of Paul’s finger. And then fingers. By then Ren was arching up into Paul’s touch and groaning.

“Paul. Oh Paul,” the words soft as feathers.

Hearing his name like this frightened Paul. It felt too intimate, even for this. Like Ren owned a part of him just by saying his name.

Eventually, Paul pulled his fingers out.

Hot thighs in his hands, Ren begging — and he was a pretty beg-er, his face and throat red as rubies — and Paul swollen and aching. He kissed Ren’s bent knee and sank in, going as deep as he could. Red keened and Paul moved rapidly, knowing neither of them were going to last long. Ren cried out again, wrapping his arms around Paul, like a vine. He felt Ren’s heels in the small of his back, pressing in, as if to say more more more. Paul reached between them, took Ren in his hand — thick and tumescent — and began stroking him. Ren moaned, said Paul’s name over and over and then I love you, I love you. Fingernails digging into Paul’s shoulder. I love you Paul, I love you.

Paul finished with a surprised and painful jerk.

Ren groaned and finished himself, with a soft strangled sound. After a few cursory kisses, Paul got up and stood at the edge of the bed. He’d said he loved him. In the throes of passion, yes, but still.

Ren looked at Paul and laughed. He crawled up to Paul, and wrapped his arms and legs around him. He was more like an octopus than a vine.

Paul held Ren briefly, dazed and not even knowing what to do.

Probably it was best to talk to Ren.

Paul asked Ren if he wanted tea or coffee.