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Very Important Research

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"Why not?"

"Well, I'm married to your sister, for starters."

"I already talked to her. Totally good to go on that front."

"Wait, what? You asked Sue if we could… if you could… you've got to be kidding me."

"No joke. It's payback for this one time in college I let her borrow my girlfriend."

"Sue's been with a women?"

"Women, actually. Moving on. Do you have any other objections before I flame those pants off of you?"

"Get the hell away—yes. Yes, I have objections. I'm straight. And, besides… if I weren't straight, you wouldn't even be my type."

"Uh huh. Because straight guys sit around thinking about what their type would be if they were batting for the other team."

"I'm a scientist. Hypothesizing is what we do."

"I've heard you hypothesizing in the shower before, Reed, believe me. Why do you think I'm here now?"

"I do not—this isn't even—we're not having this conversation. I refuse to participate in this nonsense."

"So you say I'm not your type, but you're eyeing this bulge in my pants like it's a specimen and you're the microscope. What gives?"

"I am not—"

"Oh, give it a break. Just admit it, Reed. You've wanted to test hands-on from day one 'whether my instinctual defensive combustive capabilities are also triggered during periods of extreme physical loss of control.' Also known as: you want my body."

"How did you—wait a minute. You read my journal? I don't even let Sue read my—"

Johnny, tired of talking, pushing Reed back against the bed and straddled him.

"I know all this science talk gets you hot, dude, but can we just get to the good stuff, already? You need to justify this to yourself, you got it. We're conducting tests."

Reed, caught somewhere between fuming, sputtering incoherently, and really fucking horny, couldn't think of a thing to say except, "Uh… yes? Very important research."

Johnny grinned. "Flame on."

They proceeded to test Johnny's "suppression control under extreme duress" (a blow job and three of Reed's long fingers massaging his prostate), "ignition control under moderate duress" (Johnny fucking Reed up against the headboard and lighting flames on each of his fingers while he did so) and, finally, his "core temperature shifts during close physical encounters" (Reed on top, Johnny face-down on the bed, legs spread wide).

It was dark by the time they were finished, but in the name of scientific research, they kept at it until Johnny passed every single one with flying colors.