You lay curled against Dick’s side, your head resting lightly on his chest. Afternoon light spilled gently through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. The quiet was comfortable—no need for words—just the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear and the distant hum of the city.

Your fingers traced aimless patterns on his shirt as he scrolled through his phone, one arm draped around your back, anchoring you in place. You felt calm but your mind kept drifting back to the same question, twisting in your stomach like a secret you wanted to share.

Finally, you swallowed hard and broke the silence. “Hey.”

He looked down at you with that easy, half-smile—the one that always made your heart stumble. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, cheeks warming. “Can I… see it?”

His brow lifted in amusement, lips twitching. “See what? My report card?” He grinned. “I’ll warn you—I wasn’t exactly top of the class in math.”

You buried your face against his chest and laughed quietly, but forced yourself to look back up, eyes flickering down to the area between his thighs. “No. I mean… you know.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, then laughter bubbled up. “Ah.”

“I’m just… curious. You’ve had experience, and I haven’t. Sometimes I catch myself imagining things and getting scared. Maybe seeing it will help—make it less scary.”

His smile softened, kindness shining in his eyes. “You’re allowed to be curious. And you’re allowed to ask.”

He shifted slightly, lowering the blanket, and with a quiet grunt, shimmied his sweatpants down just enough to reveal himself. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it—the size was surprising, even softened like this. He was thick, with prominent veins running throughout, bulging out of the smooth skin. Long and almost reaching his bellybutton from the position it was in currently.

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, a mix of wonder and worry. “If this is how big it is when you’re soft… how am I supposed to… fit it in when it’s hard?”

Dick froze for a beat, then laughter spilled from him—rich and genuine.

You flushed. “Hey! I’m new at this.”

He grinned and leaned back a little, leaving himself exposed just enough. “Look,” he said, voice gentle, “you can ask me anything. No pressure, no judgment.”

You blinked, relief slowly trickling through you. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” His hand cupped your cheek, warm and steady. “I know it can be awkward, but questions are good. Better to ask than guess. I’m here.”

You swallowed and took a breath. “Does it hurt? When you get hard?”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, if I’m tense or not careful. But usually, it’s just… natural. Nothing to be afraid of.”

You nodded slowly. “And how does it work? I mean… how does it go from soft to hard?”

He laughed quietly, clearly amused but patient. “It’s about blood flow—when your body responds to touch, to thoughts, to feelings. The blood rushes in, and that’s what makes it stand up.”

You pictured it, intrigued. “So, like an engine revving up?”

“Exactly,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And like any engine, it needs time and care. You don’t just jump into full throttle without warming up.”

You smiled and nodded in understanding, the knot of nervousness loosening in your chest. “Thanks. For being patient.”