When I was writing 'Acing It', I decided not to bother deciding which one was ace. My original plan was to write two versions, identical except for identifying which partner was asexual and which one had a sex drive during the last scene. Then I decided that would probably run afoul of the 'no duplicate stories' rule on FFnet, which is where I post all my work initially despite the site's many problems, because it's the site I started out on; and then I decided that identifying which partner was sexual and which one wasn't ran counter to the story's point about it being no one else's business, so it actually served the narrative better to keep it ambiguous.

That said, I wanted to write a story for each version where the sexual partner finds out they're in love with an asexual and the two of them have to work out what that means for their relationship. 'Acing It' can be read as a sequel to either of these stories.

Fair warning: this story may feel less asexual-positive in tone than 'Acing It' was, since although Bog accepts that Marianne is ace, there is an adjustment period during which he is not initially happy to learn that their relationship will never involve sex.

It was not uncommon for a sparring match between Bog and Marianne to lead to kissing.

In this particular instance, Marianne had knocked Bog's staff cleanly out of his hand, but tangled her sword in its decorative headpiece and disarmed herself in the process. Rather than lunging for his weapon, Bog stepped into Marianne's path when she leapt to retrieve her sword.

The momentum spun them around and they overbalanced, falling to the floor opposite the staff and sword. Bog landed hard on his back and Marianne landed hard on him. Luckily he'd flared his wings and shot out his arms when he fell, and curled his head so it didn't smack the floor of his rebuilt throne room. Although it hurt quite a lot, he wasn't actually injured.

Marianne laughed breathlessly. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'll live."

"I've got you pinned, oh mighty Bog King." She kissed him.

"I've got you right where I want you," Bog growled back. He wrapped his arms around her. "You'll never escape me now."

"Then it would seem we're at an impasse."

They kissed again. Bog licked Marianne's lips. She grinned and teased his tongue with her teeth. Bog sucked her lower lip into his mouth and nibbled it, gently enough not to break her delicate skin. She was straddling him, and her hands were between his shoulder spurs and his neck.

Her thumb brushed over his throat. Bog growled again. He splayed one hand out on her back, covering the roots of her wings, and tangled his other hand in her hair. She made the most delicious noise when he pressed his palm into her spine and rubbed a slow circle.

"I love you," he whispered fervently between kisses.

"I love you too," she whispered back. "Love you so much."

Bog enjoyed the feel of Marianne's slight weight on him, her delicate fingers and blunt claws teasing the seams of his scales, her hot breath on his skin. Every touch fanned the flames of his ardor. He wanted to peel back the petals she wrapped her body in and feel her bare flesh pressed to his. He wanted to hear what other beautiful sounds she would make, to learn if she would moan or scream or gasp when he gave her an orgasm.

By everything holy and unholy, Bog wanted to have sex.

They were alone right now. Marianne might not want to have sex right in the middle of the throne room, but – but maybe she would. Bog could hint at what he wanted, and see how she reacted.

One of Bog's hands was still caught in Marianne's hair. With the other, he stroked down her back and over the curve of her buttocks. He slid his hand between her parted thighs and rubbed the edge of his fingers into her crotch.

Marianne's entire body tensed above him, and she made a sharp noise Bog had never heard before, indicating either pleasure or distress. Playing it safe, he stroked up her back again. When he scratched his nails lightly just below her wings, she moaned her oh yes that feels so nice please do that again moan.

The rest of the evening was a blur of delight. They didn't end up having sex, but after she had gone home and he had gone to bed, Bog's imagination wove together several fantasies where Marianne urged him, 'touch me there again.'

Several days later, at her castle this time, the Bog King entered Crown Princess Marianne's study and shut the door behind him.

"Marianne? I was … hoping we could talk about something?"

"Sure, Bog." She set aside her paperwork, laced her fingers, and stretched her arms out in front of her. "What's up?"

"Do you remember how, last time we were – kissing – I, ah, touched between your legs?" Bog's cheeks and ears burned, but he would get through this conversation. Communication was important.

"Oh." Marianne looked down at her desk. "That."

"Was that … okay, or not okay?"

There was a tense silence. Bog was ready to acknowledge that to mean it wasn't okay and to apologize, but his stupid tongue seemed stuck and his stupid mouth wouldn't open …

"I don't like sex," Marianne blurted. She clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed.

"Oh." What else could he say? He felt vaguely guilty now for attempting foreplay with her, and in the back of his mind the remnants of his self-loathing started whispering that it was because of him, because he was too ugly and evil to be desirable.

"I've never … I've never felt the way books describe when they talk about the characters wanting each other, and I figured that was just because books exaggerate things, but I've overheard other people or even talked with other women about it, and they – and I've tried masturbating a few times," (Bog immediately pictured this and suppressed the image in the same moment,) "trying to see what all the fuss was about, but I never liked it. It didn't hurt or anything, it just didn't feel good."

Marianne hunched up at her desk. Bog put his hand on her shoulder.

"I had sex with Roland a couple of times," she continued. "Nothing that could get me pregnant, but … I mean, I was in love, we were engaged, and I wondered if maybe it would be different with somebody than on my own? And I knew we'd need to have sex after the wedding, since we'd need an heir, even if there'd be hell to pay if I conceived before the wedding, so – and, again, it wasn't – he never hurt me, doing that, but I didn't like it."

Bog carefully bit back the urge to say that maybe she'd like sex with him better than she had with her ex, but he still thought it loudly.

"I love you." Marianne covered his hand, still on her shoulder, with both of hers. "I love spending time with you, and talking with you, and sparring with you, and kissing you, and the way you hold me, and the way you look at me, and," she took a deep breath, "and I don't think I'd mind having sex with you. Like I said, I've always sort of known I'd have to do it someday, so the kingdom would have an heir, and I'm … I've made my peace with that. And if sex is … an important part of having a relationship, for you, then I'm willing to do it. I just don't … actively want to have sex. With anyone. Ever."

"… I think I need some time to absorb all of that."

"Oh. Of course." She let go of his hand and he let go of her shoulder.

Bog didn't know where to go for true privacy in the Fairy Kingdom, and so headed vaguely in the direction of the Royal Library, trusting his still-fearsome reputation to keep anyone except perhaps Dawn from approaching him. He didn't want to go back to the Forest yet.

I'm willing to have sex with you for the sake of our relationship and because my kingdom's royalty follows a bloodline, but I don't actually find you sexy.

Of course she didn't have to have sex with him if she didn't want to, that was the most basic rule of sex!

But that didn't mean rejection didn't hurt.

With the way they flirted with each other, he'd assumed Marianne was attracted to him in all the same ways he was attracted to her. He had thought sex was not just a possibility, but an eventuality, something their relationship was working towards.

Blasted non-verbal miscommunications …

She had told him, the night they met, that she didn't think he was hideous. She had called him handsome since then, regularly. Striking, regal, gorgeous …

Just not 'sexy'.

Okay. Bog was a mature adult. He could articulate his feelings, at least when he didn't have to say them out loud.

He was disappointed that Marianne didn't want to have sex with him, and was feeling hurt and rejected because he had assumed she would want to have sex with him. Bog had developed that assumption based on his desires and expectations of how relationships worked, not anything Marianne had directly said or done.

(Well, some of the ways she touched him were sexually charged, but that could be a species difference.)

So what had actually happened earlier was that they had resolved a miscommunication, which was good, and now Bog needed to process the emotional fallout of the truth not being what he'd hoped to hear.

Marianne didn't want to lose Bog over this. If he came back and told her that they would have to end their relationship if she wouldn't have sex with him –

Okay, if he phrased it like that she'd probably dump him on the spot, and then possibly cause a diplomatic incident driving him out of her kingdom at sword-point.

But if sex was an important aspect of romantic relationships for Bog, if he couldn't feel satisfied in a nonsexual relationship, then …

Marianne was actually even less comfortable with sex than she'd implied.

As the Crown Princess and therefore Future Mother Of The Next Royal Heir, she'd always known, once she knew what sex was, that she'd have to have it at some point. As she'd told Bog, she had accepted the idea. But her limited experiences with it had made her skin crawl and her guts writhe even before her love for Roland had inverted into hatred.

The idea of Bog touching her like that made her recoil. She loved his touch. She didn't want their affectionate moments to be ruined by the memory of his hands in other places. She didn't want kissing him to lose its appeal by linking it to foreplay.

But the idea of losing him entirely was even more repugnant.

Maybe they could work out some kind of 'sex signal', so Marianne could relax the rest of the time.

Bog didn't want to lose Marianne over this. Yes, he wanted to have sex with her, but that wasn't what made him fall in love with her. He'd been aroused by other people before without his heart ever entering the equation.

He loved Marianne so much. He loved her ferocity; her laughter; the way they could relate to each other about the pressures of royal responsibility and feeling like outsiders among their own people; how fascinated and excited she was to explore new places; how they could bounce ideas back and forth for hours and always came up with something better than either could have thought of alone …

But what if knowing that Bog desired her sexually made Marianne uncomfortable? What if she didn't want to touch him at all anymore? He could stand not having sex with her, he was pretty sure, but he was even more certain he could not stand losing her affection.

If she didn't want to kiss, or hug, or hold hands, or spar anymore, Bog would be miserable.

He had inflicted enough misery on himself already.

He would rather continue a sexless romance with Marianne than throw away their love on the off-chance he would find someone else to love who would be interested in having sex with him.

He also really should come up with a better way to phrase that, so it didn't sound like he was planning to break up with Marianne for a 'better option' if one was presented.

"I love you. Our relationship is very important to me." Bog scratched the back of his neck. "What I'm trying to say is, I love you more than the idea of having sex with you."

"So, you aren't worried you'll end up feeling …" Marianne made a vague gesture, "unsatisfied?"

"I don't think so? I – I want to try. By which I mean, not try. I mean – I want to stay together, and I think keeping our relationship how it already is, physically, can work."

"And if it doesn't … I guess we'll just talk about it again, then, and, decide, then."

"Right."

"Right."

Marianne kissed Bog. They both worried it might be awkward now, but it felt as right as ever.