Sex Criminals opens with two disclaimers. One is inter-narrative, about events currently occurring in the series, the other is extra-narrative, about the tone of the book to come. The former accompanies our lead characters, Suzie and Jon, having public sex in a bathroom, with Suzie telling the audience “I know how this looks. Don’t judge us” (#1). After this in media res opening, Suzie flashbacks to her ‘origin’, including her father being killed, before reassuring the audience “The jokes are coming I promise” (#1). From the outset, as much as Sex Criminals is playing with the audience’s tastes and expectations, it is manipulating time. The forewarnings are designed to intrigue, but also asking to reserve judgment, and allow what may first appear shocking or bizarre to become meaningful as time goes on.
In the spirit of these disclaimers it might be fair to mention that 1) I am no expert in sexuality and gender identification, and while I feel I have been reasonably respectful and accurate with my descriptions made here, it is easily possible for me to have made some error, and 2), Sex Criminals is an extremely funny and deeply engaging series, which I strongly recommend, which this analysis will likely take the humour out of. Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky’s independently-created series features people who stop time when they orgasm, and stranger than this premise is that they entangle this concept with serious and honest discussions of sexuality. The mixture of powers and sexuality is surprisingly common; as characters from Spider-Man to the X-Men have their abilities serve as extended metaphors for puberty. But this is all sub-textual, and what Sex Criminals does is disregard the innuendo and metaphor to focus on the discovery and responsibility of sex. Of course Sex Criminals is filled with innuendos and sexual jokes, but it all serves to bring attention towards sexuality, rather than avoid the topic. Humour also serves to demonstrate the levity sex can be given, rather than treating it as a deadly serious act, while also alleviating the rather serious investigations Sex Criminals provides, of how people are meant to reconcile the universal and public laws of society onto an aspect of themselves that is so private, so intimate, and so inexpressible.
“Female genital mutilation was outlawed when in the United States? 1996.” (#12); Sex and The Law.
Sex Criminals is not as much interested in the very literal intersection of Sex and the Law, in terms of sexual assault or other sex-related crimes. As a series it avoids these topics to serve as a sex-positive approach rather than a grim cautionary tale. It is more interested in the laws we make for ourselves surrounding sexuality, and how we try to contain and regulate this intrinsic part of ourselves. If sexuality is part of our psyche, essential and unique to every person (even to an asexual like Alix), then how can anyone else resolve how it works? It is not so much sex itself, but how our minds can deal with it. Jon asks his therapist, Dave, whether “sex makes you a bad person” (#10). Like many, he appears to question the morality of sexual conduct. But it becomes clear it is not the action itself which concerns him, but the newfound feelings of importance the act has gained with Suzie. Jon is “not asking about sex”, as Dave observes, he’s “asking about love” (#10). Sex is just a physical manifestation of our minds. And in the mind we find our desire, our morality, and our love. What’s important is how we navigate our minds and emotions, both in dealing with others, and ourselves.
Ideally, laws are constructed to help with navigation. Although no rules can isolate such an esoteric thing as love, the ‘physical act’ of it is far easier to control. The firm instructions of Do or Do Not are what the Law is built around. For some, these strict definitions are what society is based on. Laws separate mankind from animals ruled by instinct. They demonstrate our dual capacity for free will and restraint, to separate our wants from our needs. However, some have come to consider that many rules, instead of being constructive, are restrictive. Rather than creating our humanity, they prevent the development of its unconsidered aspects, confining us from our full capacity. The idea that the rules of society can fit an individual becomes quite contradictory. Nobody else can really tell you who you are. It is something you must discover alone.
“A secret inside a secret” (#2); Sexuality and the social laws of discussion.
The presence of sexuality in modern society occupies a strange liminal space. While most mediums and advertising will readily accept that sex exists, they are focused on teasing or alluding to it, but are usually forbidden from actual depiction or explicit discussion. Sex is hinted at but rarely openly discussed. It is evident that sex is desired, but few creations examine this desire beyond satisfying it. The symptoms of sexuality, the hormonal attraction to what might be, are focused on far more than the core activity itself. Sex is “everywhere and, like, nowhere at the same time” (#2). This half-hearted depiction is especially found in comic books, a medium which has been prolific with sexism and objectification. Mainstream comics eagerly showcase supermodel physiques, plastering their characters with sex appeal, but are seldom interested beyond depiction. They are content with exploiting sexuality, but not informing it. This is especially true with content aimed towards adolescents, who are most potent with sexuality while also the most confused. Yet rather than helping to understand these newfound sensations, most products are satisfied with indulging them. Sex can be a fantasy, but not real. In general society, sexuality is always visible, but often transparent.
In Sex Criminals’ perspective, society is unable to cope with ordinary sexuality, let alone the extraordinary abilities created by Jon and Suzie’s orgasms. Instead of sexual development being a place of positivity and growth, their childhoods are surrounded with shame, secrecy and judgement. For all of Sex Criminals’ complex narrative manipulation, no panel affected me as powerfully like the simple, raw vulnerability of young Suzie asking her mother about “you know. Sex questions” (#1). And nothing was quite as devastating as her mother responding “Great. Now I’m raising a whore” (#1), meeting inquiry with scorn. Efforts by Suzie to discover herself medically, rather than through the personal judgements of parental guidance, are also thwarted given that clinics are still administered by people, with personal morals. Suzie’s doctor tells her when you orgasm you “usually fall asleep, Suzanne. With your husband” (#1). Biological understandings of sex might yield an objective, clinical definition, but the subjective stigmas of individuals towards sexuality are still attached. The modern gynaecologist Robert Rainbow can discuss sexual organs professionally, but outside his work he is still sexually repressed. As Rachel observes, he is “tuning them [vaginas] all day, [but he] can’t even say the word” (#10). Sexuality can be treated, but not spoken of. For young Suzie, this cultural silence meant all avenues of sexual discover were closed. Perhaps the institutions thought less sexual information would discourage underage sex, but this is evidently idiotic. For those inclined, sex is a biological need, and less information only means less comfort and safety. Rachel tells Suzie about sex at childhood when no adult will, because “If somebody did this for me, I wouldn’t have HPV and a dad that can’t look me in the eye anymore” (#1). The judgement that prevents sexual information also leads to judgement towards sexual experience. For Suzie and other children, the only way out is through.
Worse than not understanding sexuality, the lack of honest sexual discussion creates self-isolation and confusion about the most primal part of the self. Female sexuality particularly is robbed of its inherent possession, given Suzie assumed that orgasms were “something only the Dirty Girls did” (#1). Professor Ana Kincaid explains in issue #12 the long history of how “politics, history, philosophy and language have turned a woman’s orgasm into a morphological place you either have or don’t, can find or can not. A destination rather than a journey” (#12). This has manifested in Suzie’s early life, unable to comprehend her own burgeoning sexuality. “I was confused and terrified”, she tells the reader, “How could anything feel so good?” (#1). While male sexuality is less suppressed, Jon similarly “didn’t know it would feel so good” (#2). Mystery and seriousness shroud sexuality for developing children so that the benefits of healthy sexuality are commonly left out. Developing through this taboo-ridden culture is difficult enough for children, but Jon and Suzie’s adolescence is compounded with supernatural abilities they cannot understand, and are embarrassed to talk about. Their powers are a “secret inside a secret” (#2), something they cannot explain wrapped in something they cannot discuss.
Even avenues built for knowledge blockade clear sexual information, perpetuating the uninformed sexual knowledge that plagues society. “Ever try to utilise the resources of the public school system to learn about sex?” Suzie asks, “No wonder so many dumb kids get knocked up. Nobody knows anything, and if they do, they’re legally bound from telling you” (#1). Another intersection of legality and sexuality appears, here hindering healthy sexual development rather than aiding it. Sex Criminals not only criticises these attitudes, but actively counteracts them by serving as an alternative resource for sex-ed. Whilst obviously made for adults, Sex Criminals provides key insights and perspectives about sexual development lacking in other media, while also providing medical facts about key aspects of sex, including contraception in issue #8, to add sexual information to the world instead of silence it.
The codes people have made, whether legal or social, around sexual discussion have contributed to its silence. Freedom and openness is the ultimate goal of Sex Criminals’ sex-positive message. This is something no restrictive law can achieve.
“There are rules people like us have to follow, children. Beyond laws” (#5); Sexuality and the criminal law.
It is the law which dictates how we live. Although most modern governments allow all consensual sexual activities and orientations to exist in private, the law still places restrictions on relationships in the professional world. Careers in Sex Criminals are jeopardised by the relationships involved. Gynaecologist Robert Rainbow dating his patient, Suzie, “would be a huge ‘ethical thing’. There are rules. And laws actually” (#8). Similarly Jon’s therapist Dave is held responsible by “The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act” (#15) for accidentally releasing confidential files to their adversary (and Dave’s lover) Myrtle Spurge. However, sometimes jobs are regulated not just by ratified laws, but by personal moral opinions. Ana Kincaid’s work as a university professor is suspended, despite her “tenure” (#16), due to her previous pornography career. Laws should be above people, yet they are made by people, and so based upon their personal judgements. However unfair, the rules are made by those in power. Ana tells her students how “Female Genital Mutilation” was only outlawed in “1996… In your lifetimes” (#12). So if legal laws are based off moral ones, then we must discover a system of morality that is beneficial to all. The unrestricted access and limitless power time-stopping orgasms bring provokes an area integral to both morality and sexuality; Consent.
Philosopher Immanuel Kant argued that to be moral you must respect the autonomy of people. For actions to be moral therefore, they must be universalisable, that is, applicable to all people without undermining their free will. In very basic terms, under Kantian ethics, the rationality or consent of anyone cannot be violated. Their permission is required. Notwithstanding that Kant himself was very sexually conservative (thinking sex only treated other people like objects), this attitude of consent and respect is key for safe and healthy sexuality. Jon and Suzie’s abilities combine the intense selfishness of hormones and the phenomenal anonymity, and more, of stopped-time, making it rife with potential abuse. Jon wanted to lustfully spy on his childhood crush Jennifer Monroe using his powers, as “the wrongness of it all hadn’t occurred to me in the flood of hormones” (#7). Yet time resumes after Jon is sexually ready following his ‘refractory period’, making his powers incompatible with sexual gratification. Instead, contradictorily, it is only Jon has initiated sex with perverse intentions, that he is freed from these sexual thoughts and can transcend them, “not lusting after [Jennifer] for once. But looking” (#7). Earlier Jon theorised that “people wanted to have sex because it meant you got to stop thinking about having sex for a few minutes” (#2), and in this post-orgasm clarity, Jon can appreciate things not for his own personal gain, but for their own intrinsic beauty. “It wasn’t dirty, or lustful, or prurient.” Jon explains, “I could just see her” (#7). In this instance Jon uses his powers not to violate the autonomy of others, but to truly understand it.
The illegal activity Suzie and Jon contemplate in Sex Criminals is not against a person but an institution; robbing a bank. Suzie punished Rachel’s college date-rapist by getting him expelled, but this retributive justice for her is different than stealing. Jon considers it a victimless crime, as although “the law is the law” (#4), he does not think it’s “wrong-wrong” (#4). Indeed, more than immoral, Jon believe by stealing the money to keep Suzie’s library open they can “do something good” (#4), having actively positive results from their actions. Jon possesses a loose consequentialist approach to morality, thinking the ends justify the means of their crimes. Suzie isn’t so sure, adopting a more deontological approach, where morality lies within the action itself. “Both Thomas Crown and Robin Hood were both thieves in the end” (#11), she remarks. Whatever the justification for their crime, “in the end”, it is the crime itself that defines you, and that you are judged for.
All these ethical systems strive to find one that can be applied to all people. The problem with converting these moral opinions into legal laws is that one group must elect their own moral authority as higher than others. Who gets to decide what is legal or not, normal or not, sexually deviant or not? Myrtle Spurge and her ‘Sex Police’ control everyone with orgasm-related powers, but they have no official jurisdiction or authority. Suzie discovers that “these guys aren’t real cops!” (#4). Regardless of the morality or legality of Suzie and Jon’s actions, the Sex Police have no more right to do what “cops can’t legally do” (#10), including stealing Jon’s confidential files and destroying Suzie’s library, to provoke the pair. Even worse, their policing of orgasm-powered people comes not out of moral conviction or communal protection, but self-interest. Myrtle tells the pair “you get caught and it’s and it’s bad for everyone” (#5), concerned neither with the morality of the action or the consequences for the victims, but the dangers of them being “caught”. Myrtle’s monitoring pretends to be for the benefit of “everyone”, but the Sex Police are really looking out for themselves.
Although the Sex Police misuse their fraudulent authority, punishing our protagonists rather than even attempting to rehabilitate them, they do proclaim a reasonable idea. Myrtle says how “there are rules people like us have to follow, children. Beyond laws” (#5). Extraordinary people like them cannot be contained using the same “laws” as normal people. Their abilities put them beyond the reach of ordinary police. If these “laws” cannot stop them, they must follow “rules” instead. Laws are limits you have to obey, rules are principles you choose to follow. Given these people cannot be restricted by the conventional world, they have to regulate themselves. Despite this principle, the Sex Police try to enforce their rules on others, not allowing Jon and Suzie to set their own boundaries. For the limitations of their powers, like their sexual discovery, can only come from within. Nobody else can do it for them.
“It had been 55 hours. It was a hell of a first date” (#3); Sexuality and the laws of physics.
More than the rules of society, the laws of physics are broken in the very premise of Sex Criminals by freezing time with orgasms. Sex and Time appear like unrelated concepts, even contradictory given that sex requires motion while stopped time prevents it. Censorship normally stops comics depicting sex, while frozen snapshots of time are all comics can represent, given panels display still images. However, sex and frozen time converge in being states that operate adjacent to normal reality. In ‘The Quiet’ as Suzie calls it (Jon naming it ‘Cumworld’) the possibilities and sensations of sexuality are literally manifested, the building stimulation climaxing in a place that is weird, isolated and beautiful. By sharing this ability, Suzie and Jon are literally made for one another. Previous sexual encounters had left each feeling isolated, frozen time locking them away from post-coital intimacy with their partners. Now together, Jon and Suzie can experience both ‘The Quiet’ and post-orgasmic bliss simultaneously. As Jon tells Suzie, finally they have “found each other” (#3). Entering ‘The Quiet’ together is evidence of their synchronised orgasms, a physical manifestation of their mutual pleasure. Similarly, unbalanced or non-harmonious sex is evident from one climaxing before the other, rendering one “alone again” (#6) without the others company.
Sex Criminals does not only focus on physical sex, but how sexuality is inextricably tied to relationships. And as with their sex life, time is a fundamental part of Suzie and Jon’s relationship. The initial excitement of their “first date” (#3) following the simultaneous orgasm is presented as a continuous flow in the narrative, avoiding any distractions or pauses. After this early hyper-sexualised period dies down into a more steady relationship, they become subjected to the natural “ebbs and tides” (#6) of their personal timetables. While Suzie enjoys sex with Jon, she confesses “thank god we’re not fucking all the time anymore” (#7). Suzie could not be productive if they were delaying each other with physical pleasure. The serene simplicity of just being in a relationship, rather than having to demonstrate their compassion with physical acts, suits the more practically minded Suzie.
The form of Sex Criminals often breaks conventional rules of linear time and narrative. Issue #1 starts with a flash-forward, followed by a recap of Suzie’s childhood that includes voiceover narration and explicit 4th wall breaks. These frequent digressions into character’s sexual histories form the backbone of Sex Criminals, while their direct addresses to the audience stop time (without orgasm, extra-narratively instead of intra-narratively) around them. Suzie observing the “magic of editing” (#1) as the story jump-cuts to her “book saving party” (#1) breaks the logical rules of both time and narrative. Straightforward narrative is constantly being tested in Sex Criminals, modes of storytelling being unpacked like it’s exploration of sexuality. Suzie breaks into a ‘musical sequence’ of Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” in issue #3. The musical aspect already dismantles a grounded, linear narrative, but the sequence is pushed even further by captions from Matt Fraction blocking Queen’s lyrics due to apparent copyright restrictions. Suzie breaks laws of narrative by singing a musical number, but Fraction and Zdarsky further break the 4th wall by putting their own voices on top of that. The subversion of traditional narrative is stacked upon itself.
These meta-narrative and nonlinear elements in Sex Criminals are a natural culmination of the creator’s styles. Matt Fraction’s stylistic tendencies can be found in Immoral Iron Fist and especially his run of Hawkeye. Meanwhile Chip Zdarsky’s off-kilter humour and surrealist work is evident in both Howard the Duck and Jughead. Their collaboration makes their non-traditional treatment of time and form evident; to the point they become characters in their own story. An extended sequence in issue #14 demolishes the 4th wall so Fraction and Zdarsky can discuss the conversation Fraction was just writing. Yet again the creators disrupt time, halting the exchange between Ana and Suzie so Fraction and Zdarsky can have theirs. The meta-conversation ostensibly stems from Fraction not wanting to write a scene he finds difficult and mandatory, while also showcasing how in “comics [… they] can do whatever [they] want” (#14). Throughout Sex Criminals, its creators demonstrate the limitless potential of comics. Though it can only display it sequentially, comics can effortlessly move back and forwards in time, and in and out of narrative layers.
The laws of physics are immalleable. In reality, they are simply unchangeable. Undeniable. Unbeatable. But Sex Criminals operates outside of reality, proving a space of endless possibility, where laws of physics and rules of sexualities are both broken. The way Sex Criminals treats time, both within and exterior to its story, creates a world where anything can happen. The laws governing reality can be discarded not only without consequence, but with ease.
“It’s just so easy to judge” (#14); Sexuality and the rules of others.
The main challenge the characters of Sex Criminals must face is confronting the rules of society, and remaining true to themselves whilst overcoming self-made obstacles. Suzie’s front-loaded request of “Don’t judge us” (#1) forms the central conviction of the series; that people’s sexuality, no matter how ‘abnormal’, should be celebrated instead of shamed. The constant external judgement makes characters feel worthless, or pressured to conform. The Orderly describes himself as “a pretty regular guy” (#11), and spends his time taking care of the elderly, but also pleads to the audience “don’t judge me” (#11) for his sexual fetish. Judgement is not only cruel, but easy to do. Matt Fraction expresses his frustration over how “it’s just so easy to judge, to decide, to like impose your values on someone else” (#14). Only secure in our own morality, we unfairly equate and push it onto other people. Even Suzie is guilty of this, casually shaming Ana’s pornography career. A projection of Ana quickly reminds Suzie, and the audience, “I’m a real person, y’know. And just because I’m a sex worker you don’t get to shame me or insult me” (#2). While the characters of Sex Criminals might be fictional people with strange powers, they are no less worthy of respect.
Although they should not have to accommodate the conventions of others, these exterior judgments create pressure for normalcy regardless. This is especially poignant for the asexual Alix in issue #13, who is confused and misunderstood for not being interested in sex. She explains how “the world around me exploded with hormones and an obsession with sex” (#13), and others presume since sexual desire exists “around” Alix, it must exist inside her as well. Forcing this alien desire onto Alix only isolates her, making her question herself and ask “what is wrong with me?” (#13) for not possessing these ‘normal’ feelings. While heterosexual (save for some “looking” (#3) with George), Jon also feels ostracised for his mental health problems. Either on or off his medication, Jon cannot feel comfortable with himself. Off meds he acts out of control, while on meds he is not acting himself. He explains to Suzie “it may have made me ‘normal’, but Suzie, those pills made me dead inside” (#5). Suzie is not immune to feelings of inadequacy, wanting the comfort of being deemed normal. Wondering why everyone else has additional orgasm-related powers to stopping time, she questions “what’s wrong with me?” (#12), forgetting her special ability by only focusing on those around her. Through comparing herself to others, the regular standard of ‘normal’ has become relative. Yet Sex Criminals asserts that ‘normal’ is not a fixed term, but indeed always relative. Ana’s lecture on sexual history asks “How do we define ‘normal’?” (#12), before revealing Vesalius, a founder of anatomy, “categorised the clit as not occurring in ‘normal’ women” (#12). While normalcy is something people are pressured into seeking, it becomes apparent it is an arbitrary destination. An illusionary state that cannot be reached.
To transcend your inner doubt, and be satisfied with your own sexuality, you must reject concern about exterior judgement. Ana Kincaid is completely unapologetic about her sexually-infused career, from stripping to modelling to pornography. She dismisses the degradation inflicted upon sexually-open women like her, acting unrestrained by “whatever sexual hang-ups the straight world’s sex-and-shame narrative inflicts upon everybody” (#9). While Robert Rainbow judges Rachel’s sexual experience, this comes not from superiority but from insecurity over not being “advanced enough” (#11). It is not Rachel but himself he judges. Although uncomfortable after seeing his parent’s BDSM session as a child, young Robert doesn’t judge them, but maturely says “If you’re happy? Stay happy” (#8). Self-contentment must arise from overcoming the stigmas of society’s judgement. It is this comfort, the lack of judgement, which cements Jon and Suzie’s relationship more than their shared powers. Jon explains to Suzie, “I told you almost everything, y’know? And you didn’t make me feel dirty or weird or wrong” (#3). The ability to be fully themselves due to shared experiences, makes them open with one another, and shielded from external society.
Despite the comfort of shared experiences, and support with sexual development, discovery of your true self can ultimately only come from within. The orgasm is the literal, physical expression of personal taste and desire. Ana describes it as “something secret and beautiful buried inside me all the time” (#9). It must be discovered alone. Tired of mischaracterisation and false assumptions, Alix discovers her asexuality despite what others think. Instead of thinking some part of her is broken, Alix understands “there is nothing wrong with me” (#13). These inner revelations of self-discovery aren’t done to appease society, or to be neatly categorised, but for self-discovery, and personal satisfaction.
Sexual maturity cannot be reached for the sake of others, it must be done for yourself. As Suzie remarks on Jon’s mental health, “You can’t want to be well so other people like you. You have to be well because you want to be well” (#8). In terms of sexuality, respecting yourself must come before pleasing those around you. And once you have found yourself, more than temporary physical pleasure, the contentment discovered will fill your very essence.
“Everybody’s got their own thing they’re into” (#10); Sexuality and the laws of the self.
It is an unavoidable price that by living in the world we are subjected to the world. We are so inundated and bombarded with what others think and feel through our lives, that separating ourselves from our influences can sometimes feel impossible. But although we are shaped by our society, we are not defined by it. Examining the impact of past relationships, Rachel comments that “whomever they were with – They made you who you are. And that’s who I’m interested in… Why does anything else matter? (#14). While we may be constructed by our experiences of the world, we are more than the sum of our parts. Similarly, everyone has flaws or differences, but happy existence lies in reconciling these imperfections as part of ourselves, not trying to eliminate them. Jon’s therapist Dave asks him “Can you get your crazy out of the way of actually enjoying shit? Can you be crazy and alone and with us all at once?” (#8). Matching what other people think does not matter. What’s important is being comfortable in your own skin.
The uniqueness of everyone is something to be celebrated, not suppressed. No laws could contain us all. On people’s sexual preferences, Ana remarks that in her experience “there’s no map for this place. No how-to, no manual… Everybody’s got their own thing they’re into” (#10). It is not even that non-central sexuality is acceptable. Beyond this, Sex Criminals argues there is no centre in the first place. There is no North Star, no default sexuality. Given it is consensual, positive and safe, there is an infinite continuum of sexuality, where nothing is the norm, and everything is permitted. Even on a biological level, Robert explains “all bodies are different” (#8), including the vaginas he professional inspects. While Suzie has a “textbook perfect cervix” (#8), this “textbook” perfection is astonishingly rare, and ironically by having “perfect” anatomy Suzie becomes abnormal. But this uniqueness, this strange perfection is not demonised but celebrated. The vast complexity of humanity, it’s multiple facets and limitless types, showcases it’s magnitude of possibility, the complete freedom of being undefined.
Sexuality is an integral part of being. And society adores a complete understanding of the world, distilling sexuality into neat categorisation and digestible information. The truth is harder to face; sexuality cannot be truly explained. It is beyond definition, beyond laws. While some labels fit better than others, the raw, visceral sensation of sexuality and identity remains unsatisfyingly imperceptible and inexpressible. Ana theorises:
“Sexuality is part of the psyche, right? It’s thought of as part of the mind. More than just what we do, but that grand and glorious what we are of it all… So if our mind is adrift beyond space-time itself and our sexuality is a part of that, then surely there is no binary. It’s not even a spectrum. Sex, gender, identity – the fabric of who we are, of our own personal space-time continuum – floats like cork tumbling through a manifold of dimensions. Of shifting, colliding forms with a few points in common. Our sex changes like time changes. Like space, like the universe itself. Expanding, growing, collapsing, warming, cooling. Evolving.
There is no “who we are”. There is only “who we are right now”. (#12)
There may be helpful instructions and supportive guidelines, but no accurate manual for sexuality exists. There is no penal code, and no directions. There are as many rules as there are people, perhaps more. As long as it’s consensual, you may explore and chart your own sexual map how you please. No-one is tied to the same orders as another. Nobody is without insecurity. Nobody is completely sure of themselves.
And there is no crime in that.
Sex Criminals is published by Image comics, and has story by Matt Fraction and Chip Zdarsky, illustrated by Zdarsky and coloured by Becka Kinzie. The first volume can be purchased here.