Johnny has no way of knowing how wrong that assertion is, but Desire smiles all the same. He'll learn soon enough.
"Not for me?" they echo, with a tilt of the head. "Is that so."

They lean in until they make contact, brushing their chest up against him, one hand on the (pleasantly cold) wall beside Johnny's head, the other still gripping his hand. "Well," the murmur, their lips ghosting over his neck. "What about you, then?"