First up, this guide isn’t for smut writers. They are god’s bravest warriors and do not need my advice. It is for us mere mortals, like myself, who may find ourselves needing a sex scene here and there.

So, without further yammering, let’s take a look.

Decide on the vibe before you begin writing.

Going into a sex scene, it’s important to consider the overall context of what’s happening, who the characters are – and, most importantly, the why.

Like everything else, the sex scene has to have a purpose beyond “I wanted to write a sex scene.” You must be revealing something about the character that we could not have understood any other way.

So, here are a few types of sex scenes you might consider. This isn’t a comprehensive list because I’m not omniscient, but it could give you a starting point for how to approach your story.

First-time sex, whether that’s the first time with this partner or first time overall. Things will be a bit awkward; there might be some nervous laughter.

Aggressive, “I’ve finally got you” sex. Both characters have wanted this for a long time, and there’s so much pent-up passion that they’re almost hurting one another.

Quick, dirty one-night stand. Things move fast; there is little dialogue. The denouement (finding clothes, clumsy small talk) might take longer than the actual sex.

Drunken sex. Remember that fiction is not real life and it’s okay to have these tricky situations. No moralizing.

Situationship, where both parties seem to have one foot out the bedroom door.

Situationship, but one party really wants to turn this into something real. You will feel that push-pull: one character pushing for greater closeness, the other pulling away even when they’re in the middle of coitus.

Comfortable, relaxing sex between a married couple. Not the most passionate, but it’s clear the two know each other very well.

Tired, obligatory sex in a long-term relationship. The POV character might be lost in their head, thinking of something on their to-do list and barely paying attention to their partner.

Homecoming sex. The characters have been separated, or haven’t been able to be intimate in a while, and they’re intense.

Take direction from action scenes.

A lot of the advice that I provide about writing thrilling action scenes also applies to writing sex scenes. For example:

• Sex scenes should be relatively short, no more than three pages. A page and a half is usually plenty.
• Focus less on mechanics and more on emotion. Embody the character’s mindset and prioritize their reactions.
• High-action scenes, like sex, should be a treat. Do not have characters going at it every five pages, or even every chapter.
• Use short, choppy sentences to show the heightened emotion and get readers’ blood pumping.
• Use visceral language that gets us to feel like the character does.
• Pick the pace and grittiness based on what vibe you want. A one night stand might be fast, animalistic, while a more romantic scene will be slow and focus more on feelings.

You do not need to be anal-retentive about consent.

In real life, consent is key. It’s good and healthy to ask for explicit consent before sex, even if it feels a little awkward. Checking in with your partner throughout the act is an amazing way to show you care while also avoiding abusive or dangerous dynamics.

But, as always, fiction isn’t real life, and it’s okay for your characters not to ask for explicit consent. Because we are in the POV character’s mind, we already know whether they want to do it or not.

Be cautious about how you discuss the love interest’s body.

We all complain about “men writing women” because they always, always focus on the breasts. Like, every single time. Sometimes even for people the MC never sleeps with and never would have a chance with. It’s gross, it’s creepy, it’s disrespectful.

I think this, and other nasty euphemisms like “throbbing manhood,” are part of the reason why people hate sex scenes in books. It’s not that they’re grossed out by sex – they may do it on the regular themselves – but they’re disgusted by how many authors default to using the most explicit language imaginable, even during a romantic scene.

But we do need to describe something, and we want to do it in a way that makes the LI feel unique. So instead of describing perfection – six pack abs, gleaming smile, snatched waist – focus on “imperfections.” Things that show the LI has lived a rich, full life and had things happen to them.

This is how Mordrek, protagonist of What Is Cannot Be Unwritten, describes his love interest:

He salivated at the delicate arches of bone jutting from her pelvis, bisected by light cotton bloomers, then drew his eyes to her soft stomach. How he wanted to nuzzle that buttery flesh, kiss around her pert belly button. Smooth sides, stippled with petal-light stretch marks that floated above her hips, that he knew would fit just right under his calloused hands.

“I’m not a poet, but my, the lyrics I could write about you,” he whispered in her ear, then worried her concha with his mismatched teeth. Juliska moaned; he ran his nose along the soft spot under her earlobe, pleased to feel her shiver.

Nuzzling someone’s stomach is a very intimate gesture, not something you’d do with a stranger. He also speaks very caringly about her stretch marks, seeing them as beautiful signs of her life journey. Because he loves her, everything about her becomes perfect, even those things that society would shame.

Focus more on the emotion than the mechanics.

Bad sex scenes, like bad fight scenes, are play-by-play. The authors believes they have to show us every single thrust, every position switch, every fluid leaking out of the characters.

That’s not true, and it can also be sort of gross. Sex is wonderful, but it is not necessarily the most attractive thing one can do.

If you are sexually active, you likely don’t remember everything from your last dalliance, especially not every word your lover said or how many positions you used.

What you do remember is how you felt. Maybe your lover held you close and whispered how much they adored you, or you laughed at how awkward it was, or you couldn’t stop worrying about real-life stuff and get into the moment.

By focusing on the feelings rather than the raw mechanics, you bring us into the character’s mind and make them feel more human. Readers do not really care about what sequence of events got the characters off. You can skip over vast sections of the sex act and readers will still feel like they understood everything if you prioritize the character’s inner world.

Choose the sexualized language based on the level of intimacy.

There are two explicit sex scenes in my most recent book, What Is Cannot Be Unwritten, both occuring with the main character. But the language used in these two scenes is very different because of the level of intimacy is different.

Here’s the first, when the main character, Mordrek Willets, is ahem, “interrogating” a fellow spy. Between the sheets, of course.

“Do you travel this way a lot?”

He tensed as she clenched around him, and he barely heard Goldie’s question over the singing blood in his ears. Some garbled agreement flew from his mouth, then a string of breathless whines when she clamped her hands on either side of his throat. He paused his rocking and glanced down to cold steel eyes.

“Where are you really going, Wilset?”

Goldie pressed her thumbs against his windpipe: not enough to cut off his breathing, but enough to send a message. He gulped, his laryngeal prominence flicking against her fingers, and found his eyes drawn back to the scars littering her body.

Some tribes did this to mark their women in case they were dragged off by a rival group. A permanent reminder of their heritage and a warning that they would be avenged. Somewhere in ….

His libido shut off like a closed spigot; he shunted the blood back to his brain. Couldn’t get off if he were dead.

Speaking of that, you can really see the seamless interplay between action scenes and sex scenes.

It’s pretty clear that the two don’t really care about each other and that this is a nitty-gritty, aggressive fling, so we can be a little more crass, like saying “couldn’t get off if he were dead.”

On the other hand, Mordrek also sleeps with a woman he actually likes and talks about her much differently.

Instead of guiding himself into her, Mordrek rested his hands on her sides and leaned down. Before he knew it, her hands were in his hair, yanking on the dark locks and pulling him closer.

That taste, something he would never tire of. Every woman was a little different, and he savored them all. Juliska was nutty, with a hint of sweetness he could not identify. The last girl like that was a frugivore, but he would not ask questions about his lover’s diet right now.

A small gasp, a long shake, and Juliska slackened; he glanced up to see the dream-eyed smile melting across her face.

Finger twitches, shining sweat in the notch of her neck. Gods, if he could devour it all.

What she said next made him stifle laughter and climb atop her, kissing her so she could taste her own nectar on his lips.

Even the gross things about sex are glorified here. For example, Mordrek says he wants to lick Juliska’s sweat, which is revolting, but it’s written in such a way that it sounds romantic. He describes the way she tastes as if she’s some amazing Michelin Star meal.

We love a sexual gourmand. What a king.

There are no nasty euphemisms; it doesn’t even describe anyone’s genitals or erogenous zones, but we can still see they are having sex. These tiny differences will make a huge impact on how your scene hits.

Do not use the same language for sex scenes as you do for rape scenes.

As a sexual assault survivor, I do not like to read rape scenes and will actively avoid books that I know include them. It’s a big reason why I’ve never read Game of Thrones.

But I understand completely that sometimes you need a rape scene. That is your choice, and I would never tell people what to write. All I do ask is that you are extremely cautious about the language you use to describe rape versus sex.

If sex scenes are like a friendly boxing match between pals, rape scenes are a battle or interrogation scene. There’s fear, revulsion, anger. The language is brutal, just like the act itself.

Nothing about rape is romantic; it is one of the worst things you can do to someone. So please strip out any intimate or pornographic language. Think of it more like a brutal shanking: thrusting, pain, helplessness, injury.

Many readers do not like sex scenes and will shut the book if they see one. Even though I include sex scenes in some of my books, I often find myself skimming them in other books because they are far too much.

While you will never be able to win over every reader, especially with a sex scene, that shouldn’t discourage you from writing them. Not every book will appeal to everyone, and that’s perfectly okay.

If you’re extremely talented (which I know you are), you might be the catalyst that helps readers enjoy sex scenes again, or at least tolerate them. Hopefully, these tips can shape your next sex scene into an emotional masterpiece.