Writer's Blog: Sex Scenes as Fight Scenes

A note: This is a Goblin Vault series I plan to keep updated on a roughly monthly or twice-a-monthly basis, in which I... basically talk a bit stream-of-consciousness about my writing style and methods and practices. I thought it'd be fun, and it makes a good thing to write about when I can't get myself to write actual smut. Which is this morning.

I don't really like writing sex.

Let's clarify that: I love writing sex scenes—especially the dialogue, the emotions and sensations at play. But I don't really like the sex itself. It's not as much fun to write for me—it never feels quite as interesting. When I describe a cock entering a cunt, it's sort of... a formality. I'd always rather focus on the look on a character's face when it happens.

There's much more to sex scenes than the sex itself. 

If you read a summary of The Mighty Ducks, or Cool Runnings, or even Rocky, and only focused on the literal physical actions that take place during the matches, I don't think you'd have a very good script in front of you. A boxing fan might enjoy the play-by-play of Rocky, but to a casual moviegoer, what you have is a fairly bland summary of two guys hitting each other and one winning.

But it's not just about the kicking and punching and sledding. What makes these movies exciting are the stakes involved. When Gandalf faces the Balrog in Fellowship, what we're engaged with isn't the fight itself, but the desperation, the stakes... and the consequences.

In the written medium, a fight scene is usually really very weak in terms of appeal. An action scene which would be engaging on the big screen—such as Inigo's duel with Wesley in The Princess Bride—could actually be called very dull to read about, if you just wanted to enjoy the action.

The written form is not so much designed for action scenes, and it's a tempting impulse to make a fight scene as short as possible in a story. This isn't a wholly off-based impulse, but it's not how I see it.

And most all of it applies to sex scenes, too.

There are a few facets to this, which (because I do like naming things) I will call Conflict, Consequences, and the Question.

Conflict

In every scene between at least two characters, it is most interesting if the characters have different goals. This is true in conversational scenes as well as fights and arguments. In one of the first scenes in the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy interacts with a popular girl at school, Cordelia, who is showing her around the facilities. Buffy's goal in that scene is to blend in and seem normal, while Cordelia's, as a bit of a bully, is to ensure that Buffy is normal and deserves to hang out with her clique.

Buffy is not normal. She's a vampire slayer. Even though both characters are being friendly, they have different goals. In a later scene in that episode, Buffy engages in an argument with Giles, who wishes to train her to do the not-normal thing. Again, these characters have different goals.

As a very general rule, conflict makes all scenes more interesting. Characters have different goals. Only one can "win" fully. This also applies to sex scenes.

In my stories, the hypnosis and sex are usually somewhat combative, either in a playful way or in a sense of genuine peril. Either Senya is just trying to resist being seduced by fleece sprites to avoid embarrassment, or Larya is trying to resist the mind control of a dangerous demon, but either way, it is a struggle.

Alternatively, in stories with less combative sex scenes (and no top/bottom or switch dynamics), the struggle might take more subtle paths. For instance, two characters might be having sex, each desperate to please the other. These are slightly contradictory goals—as one character tries to pleasure the other, they are distracted by how they are being pleasured.

Of course, my main focus is on the hypnosis, and whether it's playful or sinister, these rules apply pretty clearly.

In a fight scene, both characters have different goals, yes—but everything they do runs counter to what the other character wants. In a smut scene where a Thriae is trying to brainwash a man, every breath of honey-free air he takes runs counter to her goals.

The conflict isn't just in action, of course. Consider again the fight scene between Inigo and Wesley. Stroke for stroke, they counter each other. They try to gain brief advantages. They jump to high grounds, swing on vines, switch tactics—they are each trying to outwit the other, and the other, in turn, is trying to block them from taking those advantages. But the conflict goes beyond the action themselves, because they're also playing with each other. They are bantering, teasing, toying with using the wrong hand to duel with. Their personalities clash as bright as their swords.

All of this can and should be applied to a smut scene. Dialogue, and unspoken conversation, allow the personalities as well as bodies to come into conflict.

Sex is a very desperate act, full of chances to be overwhelmed, surpassed, claimed, dominated, outpaced. A smut scene, like a fight scene, should reflect some struggle—this is what allows each character some agency in the scene. If there is no struggle, there is no agency. All tension is stripped away, and the characters are like dolls enacting a pre-outlined story. Which is boring.

And where does the tension come from?

Consequence

Yes, every sex scene should have different goals for each participant. But what makes a goal feel moving to us? How do you set stakes?

Every smut scene should have a consequence with basis in both plot and emotion. Like a fight scene, the smut scene needs to have stakes that matter to the story. Inigo's and Wesley's duel matters because Wesley is there to save Buttercup, as well as because we like Inigo and don't want him to die—and we want to see him win because we want him to be the better fencer. The stakes are very clear. On the line are Buttercup's life, Inigo's life, and Inigo's pride. Or so we think. We don't really know what's going on the first time we watch it.

In a sex scene, the clearest consequence is, well, the climax—or lack thereof. The characters have what they want. What does the audience want? And what has to happen for the plot to move forward?

In my story, Evergreen Forest, there are a number of smut scenes in which very little happens. They are gratuitous—indulgent, even—and don't move the plot forward. Yilra's and Nipper's dalliance is cute, and advances some character threads, but doesn't really help the story progress. These are bad smut scenes.

On the other hand, in Wicked Amusement, Larya being seduced by Lim is important for both character and plot, as it sets forth future character conflicts between her and Alrek and leads to them encountering the muse sprite.

Smut scenes need to matter, and need to have stakes to keep us invested. In a more "vanilla" scene without a question of dominance or submission, the stakes might be, "these two characters are finally having sex and we want them to feel good". The consequences might be that they are closer as partners, or that one feels inadequate as a partner because they came first—or that you learn just how good these two are at sex.

In hypno, the stakes are often very, very clear. One character wants to avoid being hypnotized. Will they? Won't they? Will they turn the tables and hypnotize their would-be Master or Mistress? And how bad will it be? Will they be brainwashed forever, or will someone save them?

It is important that these stakes be meaningful, so as an aside, having them be rescued every time can weaken the tension a lot. If it's a given that they will be seduced and then rescued, consequences should take a different form. In Monstrous Ranch, the consequence of Senya's repeated submissions is that Bobbi does not respect him, and that he gradually becomes more addicted to various fey on the Ranch.

Incidentally , if you know who's going to dominate, a good consequence can always be, "Will the sub get to come?"

These are a lot of questions, aren't they?

Question

So, here's the big one. When I said, "write sex scenes as fght scenes", this is really what I was getting at.

Every good fight scene needs doubt. Curbstomp battles are best-reserved for rare moments of sorrow or triumph; as a rule, you should never know who will win—or how badly the loser will lose. If it's a given that Senya will be hypnotized, the question must change to, "Will they let him go?"

And if we're counting on the sub getting dommed, the question is, "how much can they take before giving in?"

In general, a pinch of doubt makes a story better. You don't want to know who will win, and what will happen next, do you? Some of the best stories surprise you—the sub switches to domme, the brainwashed slave escapes and lives happily ever after, Wesley spares Inigo's life and runs off to find Buttercup.

I play with this a lot in my first Bonus Pairing, Mind Plays Tricks, a chosen soldier goes up against an imp, and you are never meant to be certain who's going to win out. I use switched perspectives to make readers think that the current POV character is about to lose (after all, why would I ever write a story from a top's point of view?) and keep switching the roles until nobody's quite sure. I don't even remember which ending I made canon!

In Carol_J's story Marital Habits, which I was thinking about recently, there's a really clever question raised: Is the goblin seducing the main character intentionally, or is this a cute romantic scene? You actually don't know until the end. Not knowing the maybe-hypnotist's intentions can make for a really, really good sense of uncertainty, and makes the victim seem less, well, dumb. I employ this in the first chapter of Violets and Roses to make it a bit unclear if the barmaids are flirty or sinister until the final few paragraphs.

On the other hand, sometimes it's helpful for the character to not know what the reader knows. Dramatic irony is a gorgeous thing, and in a lot of "bimbo" stories, it's especially sweet—the reader knows exactly what's going on, but the victim is convinced that they're quite fine trusting the friendly goblin maid or Thriae or nymph or lust sprite or imp. Especially the imp. It actually enhances the feeling of the character being dumb that they are even more oblivious than the reader!

In those stories, sometimes the real "question" is "just how dumb can this character get before they realize what's going on?"

Many fight scenes have a beginning, middle and end—a beginning where we introduce the characters involved, a middle where new challenges emerge and multiple possible outcomes are presented (character b wins or character a wins, character a is killed or escapes, etc), and an end.

When Sam and Frodo face Shelob, consider all the turning points—the ambush, their initial repelling of Shelob with Galadriel's light, Gollum attacking Sam and them getting separated, Frodo's poisoning, Sam catching up and "saving the day" to drive Shelob off.

The smut scene needs to last just long enough to not get boring. You need turning points, moments of doubt, little surprises. The alraune reveals a new power to hypnotize her prey with her breasts. The vampiress reveals a weakness for pretty crystals that just might allow her pet to hypnotize her and escape. The witch realizes that her target is much stronger-willed than she thought—and decides she wants to keep them forever.

The question can be about the nature of the conflict as well as the consequences, but you need some question. "What are you going to do with me?" is as good a question as any!

In Conclusion

Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Thrust! A sex scene is all about the back-and-forth struggle, the question of who will triumph. It's all about what they're fighting for, about coming to understand the stakes, in revealing just who these characters are.

We don't have to be in doubt on who's going to win. We usually know quite well that my hapless heroes are going to have lots and lots of naughty fun—but then what? And why? sure, the succubi seduce the catgirl, but can they make her betray her friends? Will she be forever brainwashed? Will they let her come, or just tease and torment her?

We don't have to read the characters as all-out enemies. Often in a sex scene, they're the very opposite—but that doesn't mean they have the same wants and needs. One of my favorite tropes in modern smut is, "Oral sex with the driver", because it creates very clear tension (this is unsafe, and the driver should get their pleasurer to stop, but it feels so good). They need to compete.

And it needs to matter. We have to feel stakes, even if we aren't sure what they are. These stakes should guide the characters as well as the story to come.

Pun, erm, unintended.

What Next?

So, if you enjoyed this what should I write about next? Leave your comments below, and let me know if this column was fun or useful to you!

Writing character-focused smutHow Larya's character evolvedWriting smutty struggles with a lesson or a themeWhen to break the rulesFinding smut in nature