Moonspear [m] the suspension of disbelief

He was glad to be able to pay attention the next time she spoke — and then immediately embarrassed when he realized he'd forgotten there might be any difficulty. Of course he was aware (it'd been right in his face, after all), but he was so caught up with wanting, and so terribly inexperienced, that everything seemed about as doable or perhaps undoable as the next thing.

He realized anew that he didn't really know, in this situation, what the proper protocol was. His mother hadn't accounted for this possibility in her talk, and relations with other men had been excluded as well.

"I'll try anything," he told her, though some of the possibilities made his heart rate spike with equal parts anxiety and interest. "I think we can figure something out that feels right, probably — but I guess I wonder... Y'know."

When he was thinking clearly, it was something he kept coming back around to.

"If we'd be able to have kids," he said in a rush. "Theoretically, I mean. I'll try anything you want — but I don't... I don't think I can get pregnant, is all."

He pulled back just a little, to try and get a look at her face.

"But I know we don't know," he told her, reiterating this. It wasn't a shock to him, even if it was hard to keep in mind in the moment.