Fic: An Ass of You and Me
Title: An Ass of You and Me
Series: Two Guys, a Dog, and a Ciscentric Universe
Characters: Jay/Terrence
Genre: Gay fiction, transgender fiction, romance, contemporary
Status: Oneshot, complete
Rating: R
Content: Sex, fingering, swearing, beggy doggy eyes, moments of seriousness
Length: 8, 749 words
Summary: Hinting that Terrence was welcome in his flat and bed didn't seem all that complicated to Jay. He wanted Terrence and Terrence seemed to want him - so why did Terrence hesitate on Jay's doorstep, if Jay's body wasn't a problem?
AN Author Essay: Thanks to 2metaldog for telling me the title aphorism some time back (I don't even remember when) as it's not something commonly heard in my little corner of the world - possibly because 'arse' doesn't match the wordplay. For the sake of my rabid Australianness, though, 'ass' is definitely a reference to a donkey; the title was too apt to ignore. :P
There are many different transgender narratives - as many as there are transgender people, and all the differing ways in which people explore, nurture, and come to terms with their gender identity (however binary that may or may not be) and how that matches their body with whatever level of transitioning they choose or have available to them. Here, I wanted to write about the experiences of someone comfortable with their body - just frustrated with ciscentric assumptions about who has what bodies, and how they relate to gender identity, and how that determines both beauty and validity. I also just wanted to get away from the phallocentrism (this is my new favourite word, I swear) in so much slash fiction/dialogue; a cock doesn't make a man, after all.
Lastly. I have Googled, but I'm still not getting something that explains - clearly, in a way that I can understand - where the line is between an R rating and an NC-17 rating. Here in Australia, you have R, and you have RC (Refused Classification, which is not an actual rating per se, but the next step after R) and this would be an R rated piece. But as sex scenes go, this is pretty vanilla - but it's also kind of explicit. (And I hate the way that cis male sexuality is automatically considered 'more erotic' with a consequence of 'less safe' than cis female sexuality/vulva-possessing sexuality.) In other words, I have no clue whether the current rating is appropriate for a global audience, and if you feel it isn't, would you please enlighten me so I can correct the header? I'd be grateful.
The night only got awkward when they reached Jay's front door. Terrence hesitated for a moment, that age-old question revealed in his nervous half smile and the way he took a step back from the doormat - or it should have been that age-old question, Jay amended. It should have been that ancient fear of wondering if the time was right, if it was too soon, or too late, the impossibility of reading someone else's mind, the lack of surety in knowing whether or not any kind of come-on would be welcomed. Jay could imagine the same old play going on for time out of mind - men hesitating, wondering about fathers and mothers and other assorted relatives who might interfere or protest, wondering about how to get home in the morning and whether or not their intended lover had a spare toothbrush (okay, maybe Jay was the only guy on the planet who wondered about the toothbrush), wondering whether offence was going to be caused by suggesting or not suggesting. There were rules for this sort of thing - dive in, screw your little heart out and worry about the relationship later, never on the first date, three dates in, a month in, after you'd met the family, all of them confusing and contradictory and offering no help whatsoever. There was no way for the moment not to be awkward, no way to know if it was going to make or break a relationship, no way to know which rule applied, and Jay couldn't blame Terrence for being unsure. A few good dates, a few kisses, a nighttime stroll through the CBD (and getting heckled at by a bunch of kids at the picture theatre) and a surprising rapport didn't mean that anything further was going to go just as well. Sometimes an invite for a cup of coffee was just for a cup of coffee. Sometimes it was never asked.
Terrence wasn't a player. He was the sort of guy who'd never fit in, the kind that worried about what other people thought of him, the kind that grabbed onto Jay's hand and held it despite the heckling, his grip tight enough to bruise - doing what was right while dying just a little inside, Jay always thought. The kind of guy who wore a rainbow bracelet for pride and kept shoving it up under the sleeve of his jacket, and then pulling it free again, caught between the need to stand up for who he was and the survival mechanism to (try to) blend. From a distance anyone would mistake him for some ordinary, hyper-masculine guy, even feel threatened by his size and appearance - Jay had seen people cross the street to get away from him - but up close Terrence was anything but. Kind of old-fashioned, even.
There was no reason to assume that Terrence's hesitation meant anything other than concern about fucking this up. No reason to think that Terrence would be groping him on the doorstep if Jay had been cis. Oh, Jay wouldn't have said that he'd been all bubbling over with enthusiasm when Jay had mentioned on their second or third date that expecting all things conventional in a boyfriend was a bad idea and vastly less interesting besides; Terrence had just blinked, and nodded a little, and then they went back to ordering cashew chicken and beef in black bean sauce and talking about football … or Jay talked about football, and Terrence nodded and made a few intelligent comments here and there, content to let Jay carry the conversation. All very quiet and civilised, as was Terrence's way - Jay could almost assume that Terrence didn't care, if this hadn't been the kind of world where most people cared, where acceptance was meant with the best intentions until it came time to get naked and real.
What Jay knew for certain - as Terrence took another step backwards, mouth open, clearly about to thank Jay for a good night or make up an excuse about work on a Saturday or anything just to fill the silence and let him escape with his dignity close to intact - was that if anyone was going to have to do it, it was Jay himself.
"Do you want to come in for a coffee?" Jay asked, staring right at Terrence's eyes. "And by coffee, I mean tea, lemonade or beer; and by coffee, I mean sitting around on the couch getting relaxed and loose, and then making out, and then sex. The order's pretty much negotiable. So's the sex, really. But, y'know. On the table, if you want it." He grinned, realising too late what he'd said; Terrence just blinked, and Jay had no clue whether in surprise or relief. "Okay, I'd really prefer if the sex wasn't on the table, because I don't think my coffee table'd take our weight or be comfy, but you're getting the idea, right? It's a possibility, if you want it."
There were plenty of other reasons Terrence might not want it, ones that had nothing to do with Jay. He might be asexual, and why didn't Jay think to inquire about that before making assumptions about the reason that he (theoretically) wouldn't want to sleep with Jay? He might not want to rush into it. He might be worrying about whether or not Jay had condoms and spare soap in his bathroom. (That one might also just be Jay.) He might actually have to get home because he was working tomorrow, given how many times Terrence had pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for messages from work.
"You want it?" Terrence frowned, heavy brows shadowing his face, but he stepped forwards onto the mat.
"Well, yeah," Jay said, startled for a moment - but then reaching out and grabbing Terrence's shirt in his fingers. "Why wouldn't I? You…" He reached up and brushed his lips against Terrence's chin, grinning at the feel of the slightest of stubble against his lips. "You are," this time he kissed the hollow of Terrence's throat, unable to stop from licking at the slight salty taste of his skin, "that," Jay moved lower, scraping his chin against the zip on Terrence's coat, and wishing that he could spontaneously learn how to undo zips and buttons with his teeth as Terrence's hands moved to wrap around Jay's wrists, "that fucking gorgeous." He wriggled one of his elbows, trying in vain to get his hands free so he could lift up Terrence's coat. It was kind of criminal to keep that skin hidden away from sight. Just harden up and deal with the winter already, dude! "Or handsome, if you prefer."
Terrence shook his head, now looking more amused than anything else - although Jay felt like figuring out Terrence's expressions was a matter of guesswork most of the time. "It doesn't matter."
"Can I say gorgsome?" Jay tried grabbing a mouthful of jacket and only resulted in the taste of fabric for his pains. "Wait, no. That sounds like I want to vomit or something." He stepped back and raised his head. Terrence was still kind of standing there, expression impassive at best - not opposed to Jay's slobbering all over him as long as it didn't involve public nudity, it seemed, but not showing any enthusiasm for reciprocation; just the observation was all it took for Jay to find the evening that much less interesting, and he pulled his hands away from Terrence's grip, reaching in his back pocket for his keys. Okay, he wasn't a cis man, and maybe that took some getting used to (although Jay couldn't really understand why it should make any difference at all), but that didn't mean Jay was going to spend the night with someone who couldn't bring himself to return the affection, but was quite content to get it. Fuck that for a joke; Jay'd sooner spend the evening watching horror movies with his dog. Cleaning lint out of his dryer. Organising his groceries by alphabetical order … okay, no, he was supposed to be trying not to do that, and it just made things harder to fit in the pantry anyway. "Hey … are you okay?"
Jay liked the fact that Terrence didn't speak a lot at times, even as it baffled and confused him at others. Terrifying to start with as he wondered what Terrence didn't say, but once they'd survived the first few dates and Jay realised that he didn't have to try and fill the silences with words, that walking down the street together was enough for both of them, somehow he felt as if it made Terrence more honest - that every time Terrence opened his mouth, he meant everything he said. What he chose to say was important, poignant, and real.
Terrance just glanced at him, breaking into a slow, steady smile.
"I think I'd like a beer," he said after a moment, shaking his head as if baffled. Jay couldn't think what would bother him, unless it was worry about the neighbours seeing Jay kiss Terrence on the doorstep. It wasn't Terrence putting it on the line; Jay found himself wondering what would have happened if Jay hadn't opened his mouth. "And a coffee." He shook his head again; Jay blinked, and slid his house key into the lock. It was getting cold outside anyway, so trying to get Terrence's skin parted from his clothes was a pursuit best done indoors.
"Man, if you don't want … say so. No foul. I don't care."
"Just open the door," Terrence said, every word soft and steady. It felt a little like a command; Jay wasn't sure what to think of it, other than the fact that not having this conversation on his front porch was probably a good idea.
"Watch out. You're going to get run over by a…"
Terrence made a small gulping sound as a whirlwind of fur galloped out of the door and flung herself first on Jay, and then on Terrence, her paws raised up on his stomach as Rommie tried her best to wash Terrence's face.
"… dogstorm," Jay finished, scrabbling for her collar. "Terrence, meet Andromeda. Rommie, meet Terrence. And don't sniff his … too late."
It took a moment filled with several blows from Rommie's tail and some fairly indiscriminate slobbering to get a too-enthusiastic German Shepherd to heel and go back inside; Jay wouldn't have been surprised if Terrence took advantage of the confusion to run, but his front door clicked shut behind them, and somehow Terrence ended up sitting at Jay's kitchen table (his shoes left by the front door) with Rommie's head and paws on his knees, not looking too disconcerted at the idea of being pinned to his chair by an affection-demanding animal. Jay didn't know whether to be amused by Rommie, consummate master of the sad-eyed in-need-of-immediate-loving look, or jealous of the fact that Terrence fondled her ears without hesitation. Maybe I should just haul you out back and try sitting on his lap myself, he muttered, grabbing two beers out of the fridge door and trying to ignore the urge to move the remaining bottles so they were closest to the seal. How was it that he was taking lessons in romance from his dog?
"I didn't take you for a dog person."
Jay wiped both bottles with the closest tea towel to hand and set them on the table. "Rommie's supposed to be my aunt's dog," he said, sitting down. "But my aunt went to Austria for some teaching gig, and my folks did the lean-on. Y'know, payback for years of love and support, take in your rellie's useless mutt. Thing is, she's been country-hopping through the EU for the last three years now and I don't think she's planning to return. Doofus, get off him."
Rommie turned her head, gave Jay a doleful look, and then went right back to staring at Terrence. Terrence gave a small grin and scraped his fingers down her chest; Rommie's tail slapped harder against the lino floor.
"No one else could take her?"
"Almost everyone could have," Jay said, reaching into the basket on the table for the bottle opener, and then setting the open bottle on a coaster and sliding it across the table towards Terrence. "Nobody's saying anything, but I'd bet my bank account that my family, in their infinite and utterly-uneducated-in-matters-of-psychology-and-hence-dubious wisdom, conspired to decide that having a dog would be good for me."
Terrence raised both eyebrows.
"On the other hand," Jay said, "they spectacularly refused to be bothered, in general, by little things like changing names and pronouns, so I put up with them worrying about my dying an old bachelor, dying alone in the house because there's nobody around to ring if I break a leg or something, and commenting on how there's more to life than worrying about water marks on my kitchen table."
For a moment, Jay thought he saw something that looked like envy, or at least a little wistfulness, flicker across Terrence's stone-calm face.
"I guess you're a dog person?" Jay asked, after a mouthful of beer. Rommie sat almost still, except for her tail, more than content to have Terrence pat her wherever he could reach. Jay had never considered himself for or against dogs, other than the fact that getting used to dog hair on his clothes and carpets hadn't been in his life plans, but he had to admit that it made him feel a bit better to see Terrence's obvious, if unstated, affection for someone in Jay's life. He was never going to tell his folks that he liked Rommie (that would be tantamount to admitting they were right, and since they'd never admitted their scheming in the first place, Jay was happy to settle for mutual silence and pretend ignorance) but he'd gotten used to having her around - and dog-walking in the park was a pretty great way to meet people, if one of the many reasons why his folks had evidently decided that Rommie was necessary to enrich his existance.
"Mmmm." Terrance raised his eyes for a moment, until they were staring at each other across the table. "I left mine behind when I left home."
Jay winced, taking another swallow and wishing he could erase the last five minutes of conversation. Here he was, semi-complaining about a family who cared that damn much they foisted a dog on him. He had a family, though - a family that didn't really care about who he slept with, a family who'd found the declaration that he was a man a trifle weird, but not weird enough to involve anything other than hushed conversations behind Jay's back, and repeated questions as to what Jay preferred to be called, and what words were and weren't permissible to say - as though Jay had become some almighty expert on what was and wasn't considered cissexist. "That's rough, man. Sorry. Although if you want a few cousins, I've got tons to spare. Large Catholic family … nobody's going to miss a few if I shove them over your way. Hell, you could even have a sister or two."
"Catholic?"
"They're kinda lapsed, now," Jay said, shaking his head. "Most of us would sit around Christmas Eve playing cards and hanging shit on everyone who went to Midnight Mass. And then we'd brag about all the drunken family drama they missed while doing the church thing when they came back."
This time Jay felt sure Terrence's expression betrayed some sense of longing.
"Well, you can come to Christmas Eve if you want," he said. "Trust me, everyone's just going to assume you're related anyway. And I walk this doofus every morning in the park," Rommie turned her head and glanced at Jay as if waiting for a command she wasn't going to obey, and Jay felt rather glad that he'd likely never have to explain to his aunt why her dog now answered to the word 'doofus', "so if you stay over, you too can get mugged by an excitable, wet, slobbering ball-chasing dog tomorrow morning!"
Terrence blinked for a moment, as if Jay were too strange to comprehend. "Are you trying to seduce me with your dog?"
"If you've got it, flaunt it," Jay said, leaning back in his chair. "And man? Have I got it. Just so you know for later on."
Jay had the feeling that Terrence's sudden interest in his beer was a kind of stalling, some way to avoid confronting or acknowledging an declaration that had only one real meaning for a cis man (Jay, at least, wasn't talking about Rommie), except that Jay wasn't cis and Terrence knew it. He sighed, a soft hissed breath. Yes, he was fortunate. Most of the people who mattered in his life didn't harass him, and if they didn't really accept him, at least they tried not to be rude because Jay had never been slow in coming forwards about shitty cissexist attitudes. If he didn't often pass - and Jay didn't really want to - then at least he was androgynous enough to confuse; he wasn't quite defaulted to female. Nobody would ever cross the street to get away from him, or even feel very threatened by him, given that Jay's masculinity was more about attitude than conventional appearance. None of that meant that the assumptions of cis people didn't get under his skin. It wasn't about saying hurtful things or the fact that he couldn't change the letter on his passport or driver's licence unless he wanted to have his ovaries ripped out. It was the assumptions, the erasure, the expectation that people like him didn't exist, or if they did they had to try and change to become more like cis men, become more conventional. That was fine for those who needed to, or wanted to, but it wasn't essential - and Jay figured that his whole reason for being on this earth was to give being conventional the flick.
He was very lucky, in a way. He didn't get up in the morning and look down at his crotch and sigh at the wrongness of it. He didn't feel too out of place in his own skin. His body wasn't wrong; it just didn't match the world's ideas of what a male body should look like, but that shouldn't be Jay's problem, and it really shouldn't be Terrence's problem either. If Terrence was only attracted to men, there was no problem, for Jay was man enough for anyone. If Terrence had a cock fetish, he could get the hell out of Jay's front door.
Well, then. Are we going to sit here all night and dodge around whatever it is that's causing the problem? I don't think so. Jay drained the last of his beer and set the bottle back down on the coaster. "So. Terrence. Can we do this thing that's supposedly foreign to all man types and give conversation a chance? My mum says it doesn't even hurt that much."
For a moment, Terrence just blinked at him, as if Jay had suggested they go upstairs, dress in purple tutus and feather boas, and whirl around in front of the mirror to the sound of Lady Gaga. (Actually … Jay grinned, only too able to imagine Terrence's black jacket adorned by a bright-coloured feather boa. He'd make a gorgeous drag queen if he ever loosened up enough to give it a shot.) "About what?"
About what indeed? Jay frowned himself. He could ask Terrence, again, but Terrence had replied in ways that suggested he was either willing to have a coffee night, or unwilling to hurt Jay's feelings by refusing, which at least meant he wasn't going to be blatantly cissexist. Was asking again really going to make a difference, draw the words from Terrence's lips? He knew that Terrence wasn't that sort of a guy, and wishing wasn't going to make him so. He was here - and Jay knew him well enough to want to sleep with him, want him to stay over, want to take him and Rommie for a walk tomorrow morning, want to take the dates they'd had to the next level. Terrence was a gorgeous, sweet man who seemed to not want to hurt him, even if that meant he didn't quite know what to do with Jay right now, besides hide behind his bottle of beer and a pat-demanding German Shepherd. Why assume that this silence or stalling came from a lack of acceptance if he knew Terrence well enough to believe that he wasn't like that?
"Whatever you like," Jay said, standing, and this time earning what he thought was an honest, well-deserved look of bemused confusion. "Hang for a sec, okay? I'm going to put the doofus outside, and you can think up some awesome conversation topics, and we'll have a dog-free kitchen. Won't that be exciting?"
Poor Terrence looked as if he'd been hit by another rampaging dogstorm (Jay preferred not to think on that old saw about dogs and their owners) and just sat there, mouth open, as Jay ventured to the laundry and grabbed the tin of dog biscuits, giving it a loud, clanking rattle for good measure. Rommie was a whirlwind of paws, ears and tail galloping at full stretch into the room; Jay checked that the dog flap outside still opened and that Rommie hadn't knocked her water bowl over, dropped a few biscuits beside her bed, and slammed the laundry door shut behind her while Rommie licked up the last of the crumbs. It only took her a moment to realise she'd been tricked and start jumping up on the door and whimpering, but by that time Jay was halfway to his bedroom and all the way to ignoring her, raiding his bedside table and gathering up an old spare quilt. It only took him a few minutes to arrange everything in the lounge room and draw the blinds; it took Jay a moment more to nudge his and Terrence's shoes into a perfect line by the front door. The whimpering had faded into an occasional, half-hearted attempt at a protest when Jay returned to the kitchen. Rommie might have become accustomed to her surprise confinement, Jay thought, but Terrence looked no less pole-axed, staring out Jay's glass patio doors with his mouth still open enough to make a decent fly catcher.
"Well," Jay said, strolling into the room, tugging at the zip on his jacket. "What are we going to talk about? Martians? Bad horror movies? Dogs? The fact that you're the hottest piece of arse to grace my fine kitchen, besides my own?" It might not work, Jay reflected, sliding out of his jacket, folding and hanging it over the back of one of his kitchen chairs. Still - it was his house, and he could do whatever he liked in it, up to and including walking around naked. Guests had to put up with leaving their shoes at the door, and they could put up with Jay's deciding that his clothes weren't essential when he had a nice gas log heater in the lounge room. (What was the point of investing in a fake fireplace if they weren't going to make wild, passionate love - or at least have sex, anyway - on the carpet in front of it?) "Why you seem so damn scared of this? I promise you, my gash doesn't actually have teeth."
Terrence blinked; Jay was again getting the 'feather boas and Lady Gaga' vibe. "It doesn't … what…?"
"It'd be kind of cool if it did, though," Jay added, now starting on his shirt. "I could be the star of my own horror movie. Start a cock collection. Should I hang them off my belt or a necklace?"
Terrence's eyes bulged for a moment - and then he gave something close to a grin. "Oh, God…"
"He's not going to help you," Jay said, strolling forwards - and then straddling Terrence's left knee, shifting for a moment until the curve of Terrence's thigh pressed the seam of his jeans up between Jay's legs. For a moment it felt good, but not enough - it just made it worse, that sense of a needing open space wanting to be touched and stroked and brought off, and for a moment Jay found himself more engrossed with rocking himself against Terrence's thigh, trying and failing to find that right spot. He sighed, forced himself still, and went back to unbuttoning his shirt, well aware that he now had Terrence's whole attention - and why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't Terrence be just a little bit curious as to what was under there? "There's no scars. God was pretty kind to me, really. A couple of layers and I look almost as flat as you." Jay took a deep, shuddering breath, startled as to just how little it had taken to get him aroused - and feeling a little lonely there, since Terrence seemed more curious than wanting. "See?" He pulled off his shirt, folded and laid it over the kitchen table, and then pushed up his T-shirt. "Sometimes I bind. Special occasions, whatever. Most of the time I can't be arsed."
Finally - finally - Terrence leaned forwards, resting one hand on Jay's hip, eyes flicking between Jay's chest and Jay's face as though he were afraid of what might happen - or how much he might offend - if he stared for too long. Jay pulled off his T-shirt, folded it, and placed it on top of his folded shirt (he could almost hear the chorus of family members and ex-partners telling him not to worry about wrinkles in clothes he was only going to wash anyway, for fuck's sake) before placing his left hand over the top of Terrence's, squeezing their fingers together. The other he raised to his chest, running his fingers over the slight curve of flesh, in light circles over his left nipple, shivering in the cooler air of the kitchen.
"You really don't mind this."
"Why should I?" Jay asked, crossing his ankles together, shifting a little - anything to keep from grinding his vulva into Terrence's leg. "It's my body. You can either deal with it or leave."
Terrence raised his other hand, brushing Jay's hand away from his chest. His fingertips were a little rougher than Jay's own, the contact heavier; Jay sighed, arching his spine in towards Terrence's fingers, tracing tiny figures of eights around the aureole. "I thought…" He frowned, and then as if in mimicry of Jay's kisses earlier, tipped his head forwards, brushing his lips in a soft kiss against each nipple between the words. "I thought you would be awkward. Shy." He blinked, but only blinked, as Jay reached forward with both hands and unzipped his jacket before he started unbuttoning his shirt, running his fingers over Terrence's chest and the soft hair just starting to grow down at his belt. Underneath the clothes, Terrence was ripped; Jay couldn't help a whistle of appreciation that segued into a gasp as Terrence squeezed both of Jay's nipples in his fingers. Was his hair standing on end? It rather felt like it. "I thought it would be a while before you'd want to do this, anyway. That you'd want to get to ... trust me."
"You thought I'd be embarrassed because I don't have a cock?" Jay couldn't help a snort - and then a laugh, shaking his shoulders. Terrence didn't blush, but his eyes darted away from Jay's face, his lips now mouthing at Jay's chest - and oh, God, that felt so good, as if it somehow had the power to make not only his chest but all the rest of him yearn for more, making that niggling hollow between his legs get bigger and bigger - in some kind of distraction, although for which of them Jay wasn't sure. "Man. I have a cock. Mine's better. Sure, it's smaller, and I can't really put it in anything, but it makes me feel just as good, and seriously, it's easier to clean up." Terrence gave a strange little explosive snort - and then they were both staring at each other, arms wrapped around the other, and laughing in tandem. Jay took in a couple of gasping breaths, struggling to force out the words. "And. If that's not good enough, even though it totally is? It's called a dildo. You can even get a harness, these days. Isn't technology wonderful? You know, aside from the fact that a strap on was probably the next thing invented after the bridle or whatever…"
"I would have thought that sex was more important than taming horses," Terrence said after a moment, between laughs. His voice, not used enough for Jay's liking, was so soft and rich on the ear; to hear him laugh made Jay feel light and wonderful. Not laughing with him was impossible and Jay couldn't understand why anyone would bother to try.
"Too right," Jay said, nodding, running his own fingers over Terrence's chest. "Oldest profession in the world and all that … seriously, wouldn't hunting be that? You have to eat. Sex is awesome, but it's kind of optional. There's no procreating or whatever if you're not eating."
"Do you normally do this?" Terrence gave a soft little sigh - Jay supposed that was probably the equivalent of moaning and wriggling and arching from him, and kept on with the nipple-tweaking - and stared across at him, taking the opportunity to run one of his hands down Jay's spine, leaving Jay's skin prickling in its wake.
"Do what?" Jay lifted one hand, enough to tug Terrence's sleeves over his arms, buoyed up by both Terrence's laughter and his seeming willingness to reciprocate - it was past time he got them both naked. In a warm house with heating and an amorous boyfriend, was there any reason not to walk around naked? He paused only to fold Terrence's clothes as best he could, given that he was humping Terrence's leg and they were sharing a kitchen chair not far enough away from the table for comfort - and tried his best to ignore Terrence's look as Jay twisted around (just the movement of the seams of his jeans pushed him that little bit closer to desperation) and placed his clothes on the table. Was folding your boyfriend's clothes in the middle of sex, or foreplay at least, very bad form?
Terrence must have decided that not commenting on Jay's minor neuroses was the best way forwards, for the moment. "Talk your way through sex."
Jay lowered his head and left Terrence to wait while he nibbled his way down Terrence's torso, resting one hand over his crotch just to feel the shape of him. Interested, but still not particularly needy - not yet, and Jay shoved that voice muttering about Terrence not finding him as desirable as a cis man into the back of his mind where it belonged. It was bad enough that people felt that way, but that didn't mean that Jay had to entertain that kind of self-doubt too, not when it was nothing more than damaging bullshit. Terrence, after all, had the capacity to back off at any time if he happened to suffer from the strange delusion that Jay was anything less than gorgeous. Jay wondered if he were more of a slow-burner, patience combined with the way he never stopped being just a little awkward; he wondered what kind of effort would be required to make him spark - and what his expression would look like when he did. "And the fact that I talked my way through that movie wasn't a warning?" Jay said after a moment. "Really? Those guys didn't heckle us for a spot of queer bashing, y'know. They did it because they lacked appreciation for my awesome running commentary."
Terrence shook his head - and then his eyelids fluttered open, just a little wider. "Oh, God."
"I hope you said that because I've got my hand on your cock," Jay said, grinning at both Terrence's horrified expression and the way his jeans bulged just that little more underneath Jay's hand, "but really, I think you said that because you're terrified I'm going to commentate my way through sex, and I am so wounded and offended right now. Plus you're taking the Lord's name in vain and all…" He trailed off, his words ending in a surprised moan that all but leapt from his lips, rocking against Terrence's thigh as Terrence slid his fingers down Jay's spine and underneath his jeans, right down into his crack. All he did was rub his fingertips over Jay's skin, but man, that was enough; sometimes just touching his arse had him awfully close to getting off. "Damn."
It was a supreme matter of willpower to force the soles of his feet to the ground and stand up, Jay thought; he shuddered as Terrence's right hand slid free from his jeans, the left from his chest - for the first time, feeling naked without that touch of Terrence's warm skin against his own.
Now Terrence looked concerned - and for a moment Jay almost felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of at all, because weren't they both failing to comprehend the other, both assuming the worst in the face of repeated, surmounting evidence that those assumptions bore no relation to reality?
"C'mon," he said, breathing just a little heavily. "Lounge room. Otherwise I'm so going to end up coming on the table or something, I swear - and that, I don't really want to be explaining to the paramedics or my father." Jay grabbed at his belt even as he spoke, too hot and sodden to stand being dressed a moment longer. For a moment, he even thought about just dropping it on the floor, but settled for draping it and his socks over the back of the couch as he headed for the lounge. Terrence followed - his quick stride made Jay grin, as did the now-obvious swell of his jeans - and for a moment Jay was caught up in a quasi-religious rapture as Terrence paused to make sure that his jeans and belt were folded neatly on the couch. Not perfect - Jay had to resist the urge to go over and straighten Terrence's jeans so that they lined up square with the armrest, something he knew was ridiculous to think about at any point in time and especially right now - but close, so close. Had he guessed that not having to get distracted by those petty little things that nevertheless got under his skin in huge ways made it easier for Jay to let go?
The view was glorious once Terrence's boxer shorts joined the clothing pile. Not completely hard, but it wouldn't take much to get him there. Jay thought him rather like the Goldilocks of penis size (except for the fact that Terrence was the furthest thing from blond this world had to offer) - not too big, not too small, but just right for stroking and wrapping his fingers around, nestled in a patch of wiry hair. Terrence stood there for a moment, the corners of his eyes creasing into a half smile, just letting Jay look. Clad in nothing but that rainbow-coloured wristband, Jay had never seen him look so comfortable with himself - he stood square and proud, facing Jay with his shoulders back, and even ran a fingertip down his length just for Jay's answering grin. Freed of cuffs and shirtsleeves, Terrence's hands were a stark thing of beauty - long fingers, large palms, strong and capable, destined only for making Jay's skin sing under the soft pressure of his fingers.
This Terrence seemed a far cry from his more awkward doppelgänger seen in public; Jay thought it a shame that he was only just getting to know him now.
"I'm going to give you the best blow job ever," Jay said - standing in front of the heater and wiggling his hips (well, he was cursed with the blasted things, so he might as well make good use of them) just a little as he undid the top button of his jeans. Terrence - thank God, the guy didn't seem to need explaining as to why Jay had covered the carpet with a quilt, sitting down cross-legged just before Jay's feet like some kind of sex-god idol - stared up at Jay as intently as Jay had watched him a moment previous. "If it's not actually the best blow job ever, you'll pretend it is because I said it is, okay?" For a moment, he reached down and stroked himself through his jeans, pressing the crotch seam as hard as he could against his clit, panting just a little as the tingling inside increased to a not-really-endurable intensity. At this point all Jay wanted was Terrence's fingers - his fingers stroking the nub of his clit, rubbing against his labia, slipping inside the already-wet folds of flesh and touching the ribbed, tingling walls until Jay came. "Terrence, baby, you've got no problems with touching me, right?" Jay slid the zip down with one hand, sliding his other hand inside his boxers, twisting the curls of hair with his fingers. "I want your hand just here." He pulled down both jeans and boxers with one hand, opening his legs as far as he could and still stand comfortably, resting just the tip of one finger against the outer folds of his labia, standing on the cuffs of his jeans to pull them off his legs. Terrence - and God, Jay didn't know if the sudden swooning sensation came from the pressure of his own hand or Terrence's actions, but hell it didn't tip him just that bit closer to the edge - reached forwards and grabbed Jay's clothes, folding them up and placing them in a neat pile besides Terrence's own.
"I want you so badly right about now," Jay said, wondering if tripping out from the sight of a man folding clothes was a medically diagnosable condition, dropping down onto the quilt to sit in front of Terrence, his knees angled up to his chest. He reached forward to take Terrence's hands in his own, pulling them forwards until Terrence had to lean over to allow the contact. He hadn't answered, but he had, and Jay was done with words - mostly, anyway. Jay leaned back a little further and Terrence peered over him - blinking as Jay weaved the fingers of his right hand between Terrence's left, rubbing Terrence's fingers through the curls of his hair and down between the slickened layers of flesh. "Just there," he murmured, pressing Terrence's fingers against his clit, shifting his hand so that he could guide a finger into rubbing tiny circles over the nub. "Just right there … like that. Round and round." He let Terrence take over for a moment, struggling not to thrust his hips up into Terrence's hand, and then guided Terrence's hand back and forth along the swollen crease, dipping the tip of his finger into the hot, wet hollow - Jay shuddered, jerking, not sure where he wanted the contact more, just that every centimetre of of his vulva was demanding to be touched and he didn’t think he could stand it a moment longer - and back up to his clit again. Every movement sent jolts through his groin. "Watch out, there's teeth."
Terrence made a small, sharp sound that might have been surprise, or amusement, or anything. Jay didn't care. He closed his eyes, hand slipping away from Terrence's without any thought from Jay - breathing hard, spreading his legs as wide as he could as though somehow it was going to make a difference, as if the cooler air on his too-hot body was going to bring him closer to coming, lying back on the quilt. Terrence moved one finger in small, steady circles over Jay's clit - and then Jay jerked again, rocking his hips up into Terrence's hands as one finger slipped inside him, so soft and gentle that it had a whimper tearing from Jay's lips.
"I can't find any teeth," Terrence said, thrusting that finger as far into Jay as he could reach, pausing a moment to stroke Jay's inner walls, drawing it back, dragging the tip around the ridge of muscle just beyond the opening until Jay loosened enough that Terrence could slide two fingers inside him, two fingers filling and stroking and stretching and goading that tingling to near unendurable levels - and never stopping the constant strokes of his fingertip over Jay's clit all the while. Jay didn't know when he'd placed his feet against the ground, when he'd stretched his legs so wide his thighs ached, when he'd started panting, when he'd started rocking his body into Terrence's hands, when Jay raised his hands to his chest and started touching and rubbing his nipples, his spine arched away from the quilt as he thrust his hips up, driving Terrence's fingers ever deeper. It was just the wet, firm movements of Terrence's fingers against, around and inside him, skin rubbing skin, the pressure building -
"Oh, God, please, please," he pleaded, Terrence's joke lost to Jay's ears as his clit tightened and his hips jerked in erratic, frenzied motions, far beyond Jay's control. He couldn't get full enough, couldn't get Terrence's fingers deep enough inside him to end that desperate craving, couldn't stand another movement of that constant brush of fingertips over his far-too-sensitive clit while his groin and spine and chest melted and burned and fizzled. "More. Harder. Just harder." Jay thrust his mound upwards; Terrence pressed down hard against his thickened clit, rubbing his thumb against flesh too swollen and slick to stand, the pressure causing so much pleasure Jay didn't think he could stand it. Oh, God, God, I can't stand this, I need to come, I need…
Terrence shifted his fingers inside him, rubbing against that spot where Jay almost thought he'd come except that the need didn’t ebb - and then moved his other hand, rough and quick. Jay's hips jerked - and then he came, stunned by the feel of contracting around Terrence's still-moving fingers, fingers that kept touching and rubbing and dragging out the orgasm somehow until Jay lay limp and gasping against the quilt, wondering if he'd ever, ever stop.
He did stop at some point, but by that time Jay was too caught up in the afterglow to pay much attention.
"See?" Jay gasped, lying back and enjoying the bliss - Terrence left his fingers resting inside Jay as though he didn't want to separate them, and curled his other hand through Jay's hair and along the inside of his thighs, combing and stroking in a way that was pretty damn relaxing, and Jay was tempted to just close his eyes and go to sleep then and there, because he could. "You were wrong. I totally did not talk my way through sex, so there." He said nothing for a moment more, knowing that he should get up off his arse and get cracking - it wasn't that Jay didn’t want to, more that he couldn't find any drive to move. His muscles had ceased to exist and his bones didn't care that motion and flexibility had gone out the window. "Fucking hell. I didn't think they fucking made cis gay guys like you."
Terrence - now almost back in his sex-god Buddha pose - gave him a sudden, almost bashful grin. Jay wondered if he'd ever seen anything more adorable, wondered if he'd think the same thing when he wasn't basking in a post-orgasm afterglow. Yes. I think it's yes. Or was it the fact that he had a man who knew how to fuck Jay until his toes curled without fucking Jay's head? "I asked some girls at work. They … well, their conversations tend to be rather open, so I didn't think it would bother them. They helped."
Jay jerked his head up; Terrence looked as serious as ever, if a touch bashful.
"I don't know whether to be thrilled or gutted I didn't overhear that conversation," Jay said, not all sure what he felt by that revelation - but he grinned, feeling way too damn good to do anything else. Worrying about the idea of Terrence talking about him to other people was for some other place, another time. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to care, didn't want to feel anything but loose and relaxed and well-fucked by a guy who knew how to use his fingers and folded clothes.
"They think I'm thinking about having a straight fling," Terrence added. "I wouldn't have told them - unless you want me to, I mean." His hand shifted, and Jay couldn't help a surprised twitch. "And I will, if you prefer that."
Jay sat up now, struggling against the lassitude, but too stunned not to meet Terrence's eyes properly, not to lean forwards and press his palms against Terrence's knees. "Fuck," he whispered. "And they're not giving you grief over that?"
Terrence shrugged, dipping one shoulder to the side. It might have been inconsequential. It might have been because he was embarrassed. Jay couldn't quite tell - but one day, maybe, he'd know how to read Terrence, or maybe it wouldn't matter, because Terrence knew how to read Jay - and knew how to make Jay understand when it mattered, when it really really mattered, when he told Jay with every movement of his hands that he was valid and worthy.
"Fuck," Jay said, again, because he didn't know what else to say. They didn't make them like Terrence. Oh, sure, there were cis people who didn't hate, cis people who accepted, but would any of them consider that their partner's trans status was not something they'd want mentioned in public, even to strangers? It wasn't that Terrence's co-workers were going to know who Jay was if they ran into him on the street, or even realise that Jay was trans as opposed to a cis guy or a cis woman, although Jay didn't love the thought of being introduced to Terrence's friends or family as being the trans guy. Not only was it something he should be telling if he wanted, it made him less than himself; it made his gender about the absences of things rather than a given, stripped him of the right just to be. It was different if someone spoke to his face and Jay had to correct them, but when someone spoke of him as the third person, in the abstract? It didn't need mentioning when he was a man just like anyone else. He wasn't a fucking object. But how would any of that make sense to a cis person? Jay didn't know if Terrence's co-workers would find a straight fling less weird than a trans boyfriend (which might be another reason for his reticence) but then why ask at all if Terrence didn't give a damn about Jay? Why put himself out there on that limb where it was never going to end well?
"I thought," Jay said, after a moment of just sitting there and staring at this gorgeous, wonderful man, "that you were … phoning it in, whatever." It didn't matter, really, that Jay wasn't wrong, that his body wasn't wrong, that gender was only a declaration. The world said otherwise. The world said he was wrong and fucked up, a liar, delusional, choosing to be different for attention. They told him that his mannerisms and his feelings and his expressions and his words were all at variance with what he said he was, that he was a woman with a woman's pieces pretending, that he could never behave and think like a 'real' man - never mind that the label made him more himself, made him right, made him fit. What reason was there to expect that someone really wanted him? "I've … there's been guys, and girls. Try it out, 'cause they're curious or because they pride themselves on how fucking enlightened they are, gender doesn't exist and all that fucking bullshit, but they scarper afterwards. Y'know - busy with work, too busy for a drink, fuck, has it really been three months since I've seen you?"
Terrence shook his head. Awkward, yes - the guy didn't fit in, or fit in as well as Jay did (if for different reasons) but lacking nothing in bravery and decency. "I thought that you would be awkward." He shrugged, raising his free hand, and Jay thought he understood. How did you deal with someone who didn't fit your preconceptions of what a person should be? "That perhaps you wouldn't want to be…"
"Finger-fucked to hell?" Jay grinned, and ignored Terrence's rather pained expression, knowing it wasn't quite what he meant.
"… touched," Terrence said after a moment; Jay glanced down, pondering the fact that Terrence's wrinkles probably had wrinkles by now, that Terrence's wrist had to be cramping like all hell, and yet the fact he still hadn't moved his hand and Jay didn't want him to - hell, he was going to come a second time if Terrence started moving even the slightest bit - seemed like the worst kind of irony. His fears made sense, though, as much as Jay's own. Terrence seemed like the sort of guy who needed to know what he was in for before he took the plunge, needed to have his life jacket ready and waiting, and what did he do if all of his preparation was irrelevant? What if that irrelevancy made Jay uncomfortable, or awkward, or hurt? What if his assumptions were wrong, or so hopelessly tangled in a world-view that didn't match, and what if he fucked this shit so badly there was no salvaging it, not when everything had been good? How did you fuck a person who, by conventional narrative, had no love for the bits he'd been born with?
"You could ask," Jay said, leaning forwards. Terrence's wrist moved with him. "Just ask, man. Don't assume, don't guess, don't think we're going to act like what we're supposed to be - what we're supposed to be is a load of cissexist bullshit designed to try and fit us into the binary somehow. Don't stress, don't worry. Just ask. I'll fucking tell you what I want, Terrence. I'll fucking tell you what I want, where and when, and if you try something I don't like, I'll fucking tell you that too, and we can try something else. I'm not so fragile, y'know. I can deal when you fuck up, if you mean it right."
For another moment, the silence hung between them; all Jay could hear was the fan on the heater, Terrence's breathing, and the occasional rattle or thump from the laundry as Rommie tried to remind them that she still existed, that she knew they were out there without her. Terrence nodded, eyes never flicking away from Jay's face, and Jay nodded back. Someone else would have said something, made hasty words or apologies, pleaded innocence or best intentions, but Terrence's nod was worth more than that. It wasn't an insistence that he was a good person, that he wasn't going to fuck up; it was just acknowledgement that Jay had been heard, a promise to try, and more important than anything that could have been said.
"Right now," Jay murmured, half cringing in regret as he pulled away from Terrence's fingers, shifting position until he sat right before Terrence's lap, taking his thick, heavy cock in both hands, "I want to do whatever you want, whatever that will make you call out, scream, beg. I want to see your gorgeous body writhe on the floor. I want to see you fucking let go." He ran his fingernails down Terrence's cock in lingering, gentle strokes, a featherlight brushing over skin that Jay knew would get under the skin of anyone with halfway functioning nerve endings and yet keep things nice and slow; one thumb he let linger on the slit, pressing in a way that made Terrence twitch and Jay considered a just revenge. Terrence wouldn't tell him much, he knew. Terrence would stare at him as he did right now, shrug a little, perhaps allow his breath to catch here and there, and leave the figuring out all up to Jay - but that was fine. They had all evening for Jay to figure out what made Terrence tick, and next morning as well, before or after taking Rommie for a walk in the park. Perhaps they had longer than that - more dates, more nights, a life.
Spending a lifetime learning to read Terrence, Jay thought as he wriggled into a lying position, his lips lowered to the loose foreskin around Terrence's cock, might not be an arduous task at all.
I'll also say that I had a ridiculously good time writing this story. Getting to let loose and write Jay's body, feelings and experiences as natural and right and wonderful in view of his gender was an incredibly liberating, empowering experience for me. I know, in the real world, that some transgender people have very complicated feelings about their bodies due in large part to our woefully cissexist society (and the discrimination, abuse, beatings, murders that come about because of how so many cis people feel threatened by transgender people; the continual unstated disgust for bodies that don't match the gender we're arbitrarily assigned to) and that Jay's self-assurance and confidence in himself and his own beauty/handsomness/bodily-validity as a man is more of a state to be attained, a wish, than actuality. But this is where we should be going, I think. We do whatever we need to feel right in our own skin, be it hormones or surgery, clothes and voice training, or just raising our voices, and not be defined by what we do and don't have or how we were raised. We should have the freedom to do whatever we need to be happy. But no matter what we do, we are beautiful and charismatic and brave, as we are, and we don't have to be trying to become as close to cis as possible to make it or have the 'right' body for our gender.
Series: Two Guys, a Dog, and a Ciscentric Universe
Characters: Jay/Terrence
Genre: Gay fiction, transgender fiction, romance, contemporary
Status: Oneshot, complete
Rating: R
Content: Sex, fingering, swearing, beggy doggy eyes, moments of seriousness
Length: 8, 749 words
Summary: Hinting that Terrence was welcome in his flat and bed didn't seem all that complicated to Jay. He wanted Terrence and Terrence seemed to want him - so why did Terrence hesitate on Jay's doorstep, if Jay's body wasn't a problem?
AN Author Essay: Thanks to 2metaldog for telling me the title aphorism some time back (I don't even remember when) as it's not something commonly heard in my little corner of the world - possibly because 'arse' doesn't match the wordplay. For the sake of my rabid Australianness, though, 'ass' is definitely a reference to a donkey; the title was too apt to ignore. :P
There are many different transgender narratives - as many as there are transgender people, and all the differing ways in which people explore, nurture, and come to terms with their gender identity (however binary that may or may not be) and how that matches their body with whatever level of transitioning they choose or have available to them. Here, I wanted to write about the experiences of someone comfortable with their body - just frustrated with ciscentric assumptions about who has what bodies, and how they relate to gender identity, and how that determines both beauty and validity. I also just wanted to get away from the phallocentrism (this is my new favourite word, I swear) in so much slash fiction/dialogue; a cock doesn't make a man, after all.
Lastly. I have Googled, but I'm still not getting something that explains - clearly, in a way that I can understand - where the line is between an R rating and an NC-17 rating. Here in Australia, you have R, and you have RC (Refused Classification, which is not an actual rating per se, but the next step after R) and this would be an R rated piece. But as sex scenes go, this is pretty vanilla - but it's also kind of explicit. (And I hate the way that cis male sexuality is automatically considered 'more erotic' with a consequence of 'less safe' than cis female sexuality/vulva-possessing sexuality.) In other words, I have no clue whether the current rating is appropriate for a global audience, and if you feel it isn't, would you please enlighten me so I can correct the header? I'd be grateful.
The night only got awkward when they reached Jay's front door. Terrence hesitated for a moment, that age-old question revealed in his nervous half smile and the way he took a step back from the doormat - or it should have been that age-old question, Jay amended. It should have been that ancient fear of wondering if the time was right, if it was too soon, or too late, the impossibility of reading someone else's mind, the lack of surety in knowing whether or not any kind of come-on would be welcomed. Jay could imagine the same old play going on for time out of mind - men hesitating, wondering about fathers and mothers and other assorted relatives who might interfere or protest, wondering about how to get home in the morning and whether or not their intended lover had a spare toothbrush (okay, maybe Jay was the only guy on the planet who wondered about the toothbrush), wondering whether offence was going to be caused by suggesting or not suggesting. There were rules for this sort of thing - dive in, screw your little heart out and worry about the relationship later, never on the first date, three dates in, a month in, after you'd met the family, all of them confusing and contradictory and offering no help whatsoever. There was no way for the moment not to be awkward, no way to know if it was going to make or break a relationship, no way to know which rule applied, and Jay couldn't blame Terrence for being unsure. A few good dates, a few kisses, a nighttime stroll through the CBD (and getting heckled at by a bunch of kids at the picture theatre) and a surprising rapport didn't mean that anything further was going to go just as well. Sometimes an invite for a cup of coffee was just for a cup of coffee. Sometimes it was never asked.
Terrence wasn't a player. He was the sort of guy who'd never fit in, the kind that worried about what other people thought of him, the kind that grabbed onto Jay's hand and held it despite the heckling, his grip tight enough to bruise - doing what was right while dying just a little inside, Jay always thought. The kind of guy who wore a rainbow bracelet for pride and kept shoving it up under the sleeve of his jacket, and then pulling it free again, caught between the need to stand up for who he was and the survival mechanism to (try to) blend. From a distance anyone would mistake him for some ordinary, hyper-masculine guy, even feel threatened by his size and appearance - Jay had seen people cross the street to get away from him - but up close Terrence was anything but. Kind of old-fashioned, even.
There was no reason to assume that Terrence's hesitation meant anything other than concern about fucking this up. No reason to think that Terrence would be groping him on the doorstep if Jay had been cis. Oh, Jay wouldn't have said that he'd been all bubbling over with enthusiasm when Jay had mentioned on their second or third date that expecting all things conventional in a boyfriend was a bad idea and vastly less interesting besides; Terrence had just blinked, and nodded a little, and then they went back to ordering cashew chicken and beef in black bean sauce and talking about football … or Jay talked about football, and Terrence nodded and made a few intelligent comments here and there, content to let Jay carry the conversation. All very quiet and civilised, as was Terrence's way - Jay could almost assume that Terrence didn't care, if this hadn't been the kind of world where most people cared, where acceptance was meant with the best intentions until it came time to get naked and real.
What Jay knew for certain - as Terrence took another step backwards, mouth open, clearly about to thank Jay for a good night or make up an excuse about work on a Saturday or anything just to fill the silence and let him escape with his dignity close to intact - was that if anyone was going to have to do it, it was Jay himself.
"Do you want to come in for a coffee?" Jay asked, staring right at Terrence's eyes. "And by coffee, I mean tea, lemonade or beer; and by coffee, I mean sitting around on the couch getting relaxed and loose, and then making out, and then sex. The order's pretty much negotiable. So's the sex, really. But, y'know. On the table, if you want it." He grinned, realising too late what he'd said; Terrence just blinked, and Jay had no clue whether in surprise or relief. "Okay, I'd really prefer if the sex wasn't on the table, because I don't think my coffee table'd take our weight or be comfy, but you're getting the idea, right? It's a possibility, if you want it."
There were plenty of other reasons Terrence might not want it, ones that had nothing to do with Jay. He might be asexual, and why didn't Jay think to inquire about that before making assumptions about the reason that he (theoretically) wouldn't want to sleep with Jay? He might not want to rush into it. He might be worrying about whether or not Jay had condoms and spare soap in his bathroom. (That one might also just be Jay.) He might actually have to get home because he was working tomorrow, given how many times Terrence had pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for messages from work.
"You want it?" Terrence frowned, heavy brows shadowing his face, but he stepped forwards onto the mat.
"Well, yeah," Jay said, startled for a moment - but then reaching out and grabbing Terrence's shirt in his fingers. "Why wouldn't I? You…" He reached up and brushed his lips against Terrence's chin, grinning at the feel of the slightest of stubble against his lips. "You are," this time he kissed the hollow of Terrence's throat, unable to stop from licking at the slight salty taste of his skin, "that," Jay moved lower, scraping his chin against the zip on Terrence's coat, and wishing that he could spontaneously learn how to undo zips and buttons with his teeth as Terrence's hands moved to wrap around Jay's wrists, "that fucking gorgeous." He wriggled one of his elbows, trying in vain to get his hands free so he could lift up Terrence's coat. It was kind of criminal to keep that skin hidden away from sight. Just harden up and deal with the winter already, dude! "Or handsome, if you prefer."
Terrence shook his head, now looking more amused than anything else - although Jay felt like figuring out Terrence's expressions was a matter of guesswork most of the time. "It doesn't matter."
"Can I say gorgsome?" Jay tried grabbing a mouthful of jacket and only resulted in the taste of fabric for his pains. "Wait, no. That sounds like I want to vomit or something." He stepped back and raised his head. Terrence was still kind of standing there, expression impassive at best - not opposed to Jay's slobbering all over him as long as it didn't involve public nudity, it seemed, but not showing any enthusiasm for reciprocation; just the observation was all it took for Jay to find the evening that much less interesting, and he pulled his hands away from Terrence's grip, reaching in his back pocket for his keys. Okay, he wasn't a cis man, and maybe that took some getting used to (although Jay couldn't really understand why it should make any difference at all), but that didn't mean Jay was going to spend the night with someone who couldn't bring himself to return the affection, but was quite content to get it. Fuck that for a joke; Jay'd sooner spend the evening watching horror movies with his dog. Cleaning lint out of his dryer. Organising his groceries by alphabetical order … okay, no, he was supposed to be trying not to do that, and it just made things harder to fit in the pantry anyway. "Hey … are you okay?"
Jay liked the fact that Terrence didn't speak a lot at times, even as it baffled and confused him at others. Terrifying to start with as he wondered what Terrence didn't say, but once they'd survived the first few dates and Jay realised that he didn't have to try and fill the silences with words, that walking down the street together was enough for both of them, somehow he felt as if it made Terrence more honest - that every time Terrence opened his mouth, he meant everything he said. What he chose to say was important, poignant, and real.
Terrance just glanced at him, breaking into a slow, steady smile.
"I think I'd like a beer," he said after a moment, shaking his head as if baffled. Jay couldn't think what would bother him, unless it was worry about the neighbours seeing Jay kiss Terrence on the doorstep. It wasn't Terrence putting it on the line; Jay found himself wondering what would have happened if Jay hadn't opened his mouth. "And a coffee." He shook his head again; Jay blinked, and slid his house key into the lock. It was getting cold outside anyway, so trying to get Terrence's skin parted from his clothes was a pursuit best done indoors.
"Man, if you don't want … say so. No foul. I don't care."
"Just open the door," Terrence said, every word soft and steady. It felt a little like a command; Jay wasn't sure what to think of it, other than the fact that not having this conversation on his front porch was probably a good idea.
"Watch out. You're going to get run over by a…"
Terrence made a small gulping sound as a whirlwind of fur galloped out of the door and flung herself first on Jay, and then on Terrence, her paws raised up on his stomach as Rommie tried her best to wash Terrence's face.
"… dogstorm," Jay finished, scrabbling for her collar. "Terrence, meet Andromeda. Rommie, meet Terrence. And don't sniff his … too late."
It took a moment filled with several blows from Rommie's tail and some fairly indiscriminate slobbering to get a too-enthusiastic German Shepherd to heel and go back inside; Jay wouldn't have been surprised if Terrence took advantage of the confusion to run, but his front door clicked shut behind them, and somehow Terrence ended up sitting at Jay's kitchen table (his shoes left by the front door) with Rommie's head and paws on his knees, not looking too disconcerted at the idea of being pinned to his chair by an affection-demanding animal. Jay didn't know whether to be amused by Rommie, consummate master of the sad-eyed in-need-of-immediate-loving look, or jealous of the fact that Terrence fondled her ears without hesitation. Maybe I should just haul you out back and try sitting on his lap myself, he muttered, grabbing two beers out of the fridge door and trying to ignore the urge to move the remaining bottles so they were closest to the seal. How was it that he was taking lessons in romance from his dog?
"I didn't take you for a dog person."
Jay wiped both bottles with the closest tea towel to hand and set them on the table. "Rommie's supposed to be my aunt's dog," he said, sitting down. "But my aunt went to Austria for some teaching gig, and my folks did the lean-on. Y'know, payback for years of love and support, take in your rellie's useless mutt. Thing is, she's been country-hopping through the EU for the last three years now and I don't think she's planning to return. Doofus, get off him."
Rommie turned her head, gave Jay a doleful look, and then went right back to staring at Terrence. Terrence gave a small grin and scraped his fingers down her chest; Rommie's tail slapped harder against the lino floor.
"No one else could take her?"
"Almost everyone could have," Jay said, reaching into the basket on the table for the bottle opener, and then setting the open bottle on a coaster and sliding it across the table towards Terrence. "Nobody's saying anything, but I'd bet my bank account that my family, in their infinite and utterly-uneducated-in-matters-of-psychology-and-hence-dubious wisdom, conspired to decide that having a dog would be good for me."
Terrence raised both eyebrows.
"On the other hand," Jay said, "they spectacularly refused to be bothered, in general, by little things like changing names and pronouns, so I put up with them worrying about my dying an old bachelor, dying alone in the house because there's nobody around to ring if I break a leg or something, and commenting on how there's more to life than worrying about water marks on my kitchen table."
For a moment, Jay thought he saw something that looked like envy, or at least a little wistfulness, flicker across Terrence's stone-calm face.
"I guess you're a dog person?" Jay asked, after a mouthful of beer. Rommie sat almost still, except for her tail, more than content to have Terrence pat her wherever he could reach. Jay had never considered himself for or against dogs, other than the fact that getting used to dog hair on his clothes and carpets hadn't been in his life plans, but he had to admit that it made him feel a bit better to see Terrence's obvious, if unstated, affection for someone in Jay's life. He was never going to tell his folks that he liked Rommie (that would be tantamount to admitting they were right, and since they'd never admitted their scheming in the first place, Jay was happy to settle for mutual silence and pretend ignorance) but he'd gotten used to having her around - and dog-walking in the park was a pretty great way to meet people, if one of the many reasons why his folks had evidently decided that Rommie was necessary to enrich his existance.
"Mmmm." Terrance raised his eyes for a moment, until they were staring at each other across the table. "I left mine behind when I left home."
Jay winced, taking another swallow and wishing he could erase the last five minutes of conversation. Here he was, semi-complaining about a family who cared that damn much they foisted a dog on him. He had a family, though - a family that didn't really care about who he slept with, a family who'd found the declaration that he was a man a trifle weird, but not weird enough to involve anything other than hushed conversations behind Jay's back, and repeated questions as to what Jay preferred to be called, and what words were and weren't permissible to say - as though Jay had become some almighty expert on what was and wasn't considered cissexist. "That's rough, man. Sorry. Although if you want a few cousins, I've got tons to spare. Large Catholic family … nobody's going to miss a few if I shove them over your way. Hell, you could even have a sister or two."
"Catholic?"
"They're kinda lapsed, now," Jay said, shaking his head. "Most of us would sit around Christmas Eve playing cards and hanging shit on everyone who went to Midnight Mass. And then we'd brag about all the drunken family drama they missed while doing the church thing when they came back."
This time Jay felt sure Terrence's expression betrayed some sense of longing.
"Well, you can come to Christmas Eve if you want," he said. "Trust me, everyone's just going to assume you're related anyway. And I walk this doofus every morning in the park," Rommie turned her head and glanced at Jay as if waiting for a command she wasn't going to obey, and Jay felt rather glad that he'd likely never have to explain to his aunt why her dog now answered to the word 'doofus', "so if you stay over, you too can get mugged by an excitable, wet, slobbering ball-chasing dog tomorrow morning!"
Terrence blinked for a moment, as if Jay were too strange to comprehend. "Are you trying to seduce me with your dog?"
"If you've got it, flaunt it," Jay said, leaning back in his chair. "And man? Have I got it. Just so you know for later on."
Jay had the feeling that Terrence's sudden interest in his beer was a kind of stalling, some way to avoid confronting or acknowledging an declaration that had only one real meaning for a cis man (Jay, at least, wasn't talking about Rommie), except that Jay wasn't cis and Terrence knew it. He sighed, a soft hissed breath. Yes, he was fortunate. Most of the people who mattered in his life didn't harass him, and if they didn't really accept him, at least they tried not to be rude because Jay had never been slow in coming forwards about shitty cissexist attitudes. If he didn't often pass - and Jay didn't really want to - then at least he was androgynous enough to confuse; he wasn't quite defaulted to female. Nobody would ever cross the street to get away from him, or even feel very threatened by him, given that Jay's masculinity was more about attitude than conventional appearance. None of that meant that the assumptions of cis people didn't get under his skin. It wasn't about saying hurtful things or the fact that he couldn't change the letter on his passport or driver's licence unless he wanted to have his ovaries ripped out. It was the assumptions, the erasure, the expectation that people like him didn't exist, or if they did they had to try and change to become more like cis men, become more conventional. That was fine for those who needed to, or wanted to, but it wasn't essential - and Jay figured that his whole reason for being on this earth was to give being conventional the flick.
He was very lucky, in a way. He didn't get up in the morning and look down at his crotch and sigh at the wrongness of it. He didn't feel too out of place in his own skin. His body wasn't wrong; it just didn't match the world's ideas of what a male body should look like, but that shouldn't be Jay's problem, and it really shouldn't be Terrence's problem either. If Terrence was only attracted to men, there was no problem, for Jay was man enough for anyone. If Terrence had a cock fetish, he could get the hell out of Jay's front door.
Well, then. Are we going to sit here all night and dodge around whatever it is that's causing the problem? I don't think so. Jay drained the last of his beer and set the bottle back down on the coaster. "So. Terrence. Can we do this thing that's supposedly foreign to all man types and give conversation a chance? My mum says it doesn't even hurt that much."
For a moment, Terrence just blinked at him, as if Jay had suggested they go upstairs, dress in purple tutus and feather boas, and whirl around in front of the mirror to the sound of Lady Gaga. (Actually … Jay grinned, only too able to imagine Terrence's black jacket adorned by a bright-coloured feather boa. He'd make a gorgeous drag queen if he ever loosened up enough to give it a shot.) "About what?"
About what indeed? Jay frowned himself. He could ask Terrence, again, but Terrence had replied in ways that suggested he was either willing to have a coffee night, or unwilling to hurt Jay's feelings by refusing, which at least meant he wasn't going to be blatantly cissexist. Was asking again really going to make a difference, draw the words from Terrence's lips? He knew that Terrence wasn't that sort of a guy, and wishing wasn't going to make him so. He was here - and Jay knew him well enough to want to sleep with him, want him to stay over, want to take him and Rommie for a walk tomorrow morning, want to take the dates they'd had to the next level. Terrence was a gorgeous, sweet man who seemed to not want to hurt him, even if that meant he didn't quite know what to do with Jay right now, besides hide behind his bottle of beer and a pat-demanding German Shepherd. Why assume that this silence or stalling came from a lack of acceptance if he knew Terrence well enough to believe that he wasn't like that?
"Whatever you like," Jay said, standing, and this time earning what he thought was an honest, well-deserved look of bemused confusion. "Hang for a sec, okay? I'm going to put the doofus outside, and you can think up some awesome conversation topics, and we'll have a dog-free kitchen. Won't that be exciting?"
Poor Terrence looked as if he'd been hit by another rampaging dogstorm (Jay preferred not to think on that old saw about dogs and their owners) and just sat there, mouth open, as Jay ventured to the laundry and grabbed the tin of dog biscuits, giving it a loud, clanking rattle for good measure. Rommie was a whirlwind of paws, ears and tail galloping at full stretch into the room; Jay checked that the dog flap outside still opened and that Rommie hadn't knocked her water bowl over, dropped a few biscuits beside her bed, and slammed the laundry door shut behind her while Rommie licked up the last of the crumbs. It only took her a moment to realise she'd been tricked and start jumping up on the door and whimpering, but by that time Jay was halfway to his bedroom and all the way to ignoring her, raiding his bedside table and gathering up an old spare quilt. It only took him a few minutes to arrange everything in the lounge room and draw the blinds; it took Jay a moment more to nudge his and Terrence's shoes into a perfect line by the front door. The whimpering had faded into an occasional, half-hearted attempt at a protest when Jay returned to the kitchen. Rommie might have become accustomed to her surprise confinement, Jay thought, but Terrence looked no less pole-axed, staring out Jay's glass patio doors with his mouth still open enough to make a decent fly catcher.
"Well," Jay said, strolling into the room, tugging at the zip on his jacket. "What are we going to talk about? Martians? Bad horror movies? Dogs? The fact that you're the hottest piece of arse to grace my fine kitchen, besides my own?" It might not work, Jay reflected, sliding out of his jacket, folding and hanging it over the back of one of his kitchen chairs. Still - it was his house, and he could do whatever he liked in it, up to and including walking around naked. Guests had to put up with leaving their shoes at the door, and they could put up with Jay's deciding that his clothes weren't essential when he had a nice gas log heater in the lounge room. (What was the point of investing in a fake fireplace if they weren't going to make wild, passionate love - or at least have sex, anyway - on the carpet in front of it?) "Why you seem so damn scared of this? I promise you, my gash doesn't actually have teeth."
Terrence blinked; Jay was again getting the 'feather boas and Lady Gaga' vibe. "It doesn't … what…?"
"It'd be kind of cool if it did, though," Jay added, now starting on his shirt. "I could be the star of my own horror movie. Start a cock collection. Should I hang them off my belt or a necklace?"
Terrence's eyes bulged for a moment - and then he gave something close to a grin. "Oh, God…"
"He's not going to help you," Jay said, strolling forwards - and then straddling Terrence's left knee, shifting for a moment until the curve of Terrence's thigh pressed the seam of his jeans up between Jay's legs. For a moment it felt good, but not enough - it just made it worse, that sense of a needing open space wanting to be touched and stroked and brought off, and for a moment Jay found himself more engrossed with rocking himself against Terrence's thigh, trying and failing to find that right spot. He sighed, forced himself still, and went back to unbuttoning his shirt, well aware that he now had Terrence's whole attention - and why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't Terrence be just a little bit curious as to what was under there? "There's no scars. God was pretty kind to me, really. A couple of layers and I look almost as flat as you." Jay took a deep, shuddering breath, startled as to just how little it had taken to get him aroused - and feeling a little lonely there, since Terrence seemed more curious than wanting. "See?" He pulled off his shirt, folded and laid it over the kitchen table, and then pushed up his T-shirt. "Sometimes I bind. Special occasions, whatever. Most of the time I can't be arsed."
Finally - finally - Terrence leaned forwards, resting one hand on Jay's hip, eyes flicking between Jay's chest and Jay's face as though he were afraid of what might happen - or how much he might offend - if he stared for too long. Jay pulled off his T-shirt, folded it, and placed it on top of his folded shirt (he could almost hear the chorus of family members and ex-partners telling him not to worry about wrinkles in clothes he was only going to wash anyway, for fuck's sake) before placing his left hand over the top of Terrence's, squeezing their fingers together. The other he raised to his chest, running his fingers over the slight curve of flesh, in light circles over his left nipple, shivering in the cooler air of the kitchen.
"You really don't mind this."
"Why should I?" Jay asked, crossing his ankles together, shifting a little - anything to keep from grinding his vulva into Terrence's leg. "It's my body. You can either deal with it or leave."
Terrence raised his other hand, brushing Jay's hand away from his chest. His fingertips were a little rougher than Jay's own, the contact heavier; Jay sighed, arching his spine in towards Terrence's fingers, tracing tiny figures of eights around the aureole. "I thought…" He frowned, and then as if in mimicry of Jay's kisses earlier, tipped his head forwards, brushing his lips in a soft kiss against each nipple between the words. "I thought you would be awkward. Shy." He blinked, but only blinked, as Jay reached forward with both hands and unzipped his jacket before he started unbuttoning his shirt, running his fingers over Terrence's chest and the soft hair just starting to grow down at his belt. Underneath the clothes, Terrence was ripped; Jay couldn't help a whistle of appreciation that segued into a gasp as Terrence squeezed both of Jay's nipples in his fingers. Was his hair standing on end? It rather felt like it. "I thought it would be a while before you'd want to do this, anyway. That you'd want to get to ... trust me."
"You thought I'd be embarrassed because I don't have a cock?" Jay couldn't help a snort - and then a laugh, shaking his shoulders. Terrence didn't blush, but his eyes darted away from Jay's face, his lips now mouthing at Jay's chest - and oh, God, that felt so good, as if it somehow had the power to make not only his chest but all the rest of him yearn for more, making that niggling hollow between his legs get bigger and bigger - in some kind of distraction, although for which of them Jay wasn't sure. "Man. I have a cock. Mine's better. Sure, it's smaller, and I can't really put it in anything, but it makes me feel just as good, and seriously, it's easier to clean up." Terrence gave a strange little explosive snort - and then they were both staring at each other, arms wrapped around the other, and laughing in tandem. Jay took in a couple of gasping breaths, struggling to force out the words. "And. If that's not good enough, even though it totally is? It's called a dildo. You can even get a harness, these days. Isn't technology wonderful? You know, aside from the fact that a strap on was probably the next thing invented after the bridle or whatever…"
"I would have thought that sex was more important than taming horses," Terrence said after a moment, between laughs. His voice, not used enough for Jay's liking, was so soft and rich on the ear; to hear him laugh made Jay feel light and wonderful. Not laughing with him was impossible and Jay couldn't understand why anyone would bother to try.
"Too right," Jay said, nodding, running his own fingers over Terrence's chest. "Oldest profession in the world and all that … seriously, wouldn't hunting be that? You have to eat. Sex is awesome, but it's kind of optional. There's no procreating or whatever if you're not eating."
"Do you normally do this?" Terrence gave a soft little sigh - Jay supposed that was probably the equivalent of moaning and wriggling and arching from him, and kept on with the nipple-tweaking - and stared across at him, taking the opportunity to run one of his hands down Jay's spine, leaving Jay's skin prickling in its wake.
"Do what?" Jay lifted one hand, enough to tug Terrence's sleeves over his arms, buoyed up by both Terrence's laughter and his seeming willingness to reciprocate - it was past time he got them both naked. In a warm house with heating and an amorous boyfriend, was there any reason not to walk around naked? He paused only to fold Terrence's clothes as best he could, given that he was humping Terrence's leg and they were sharing a kitchen chair not far enough away from the table for comfort - and tried his best to ignore Terrence's look as Jay twisted around (just the movement of the seams of his jeans pushed him that little bit closer to desperation) and placed his clothes on the table. Was folding your boyfriend's clothes in the middle of sex, or foreplay at least, very bad form?
Terrence must have decided that not commenting on Jay's minor neuroses was the best way forwards, for the moment. "Talk your way through sex."
Jay lowered his head and left Terrence to wait while he nibbled his way down Terrence's torso, resting one hand over his crotch just to feel the shape of him. Interested, but still not particularly needy - not yet, and Jay shoved that voice muttering about Terrence not finding him as desirable as a cis man into the back of his mind where it belonged. It was bad enough that people felt that way, but that didn't mean that Jay had to entertain that kind of self-doubt too, not when it was nothing more than damaging bullshit. Terrence, after all, had the capacity to back off at any time if he happened to suffer from the strange delusion that Jay was anything less than gorgeous. Jay wondered if he were more of a slow-burner, patience combined with the way he never stopped being just a little awkward; he wondered what kind of effort would be required to make him spark - and what his expression would look like when he did. "And the fact that I talked my way through that movie wasn't a warning?" Jay said after a moment. "Really? Those guys didn't heckle us for a spot of queer bashing, y'know. They did it because they lacked appreciation for my awesome running commentary."
Terrence shook his head - and then his eyelids fluttered open, just a little wider. "Oh, God."
"I hope you said that because I've got my hand on your cock," Jay said, grinning at both Terrence's horrified expression and the way his jeans bulged just that little more underneath Jay's hand, "but really, I think you said that because you're terrified I'm going to commentate my way through sex, and I am so wounded and offended right now. Plus you're taking the Lord's name in vain and all…" He trailed off, his words ending in a surprised moan that all but leapt from his lips, rocking against Terrence's thigh as Terrence slid his fingers down Jay's spine and underneath his jeans, right down into his crack. All he did was rub his fingertips over Jay's skin, but man, that was enough; sometimes just touching his arse had him awfully close to getting off. "Damn."
It was a supreme matter of willpower to force the soles of his feet to the ground and stand up, Jay thought; he shuddered as Terrence's right hand slid free from his jeans, the left from his chest - for the first time, feeling naked without that touch of Terrence's warm skin against his own.
Now Terrence looked concerned - and for a moment Jay almost felt like laughing at the ridiculousness of at all, because weren't they both failing to comprehend the other, both assuming the worst in the face of repeated, surmounting evidence that those assumptions bore no relation to reality?
"C'mon," he said, breathing just a little heavily. "Lounge room. Otherwise I'm so going to end up coming on the table or something, I swear - and that, I don't really want to be explaining to the paramedics or my father." Jay grabbed at his belt even as he spoke, too hot and sodden to stand being dressed a moment longer. For a moment, he even thought about just dropping it on the floor, but settled for draping it and his socks over the back of the couch as he headed for the lounge. Terrence followed - his quick stride made Jay grin, as did the now-obvious swell of his jeans - and for a moment Jay was caught up in a quasi-religious rapture as Terrence paused to make sure that his jeans and belt were folded neatly on the couch. Not perfect - Jay had to resist the urge to go over and straighten Terrence's jeans so that they lined up square with the armrest, something he knew was ridiculous to think about at any point in time and especially right now - but close, so close. Had he guessed that not having to get distracted by those petty little things that nevertheless got under his skin in huge ways made it easier for Jay to let go?
The view was glorious once Terrence's boxer shorts joined the clothing pile. Not completely hard, but it wouldn't take much to get him there. Jay thought him rather like the Goldilocks of penis size (except for the fact that Terrence was the furthest thing from blond this world had to offer) - not too big, not too small, but just right for stroking and wrapping his fingers around, nestled in a patch of wiry hair. Terrence stood there for a moment, the corners of his eyes creasing into a half smile, just letting Jay look. Clad in nothing but that rainbow-coloured wristband, Jay had never seen him look so comfortable with himself - he stood square and proud, facing Jay with his shoulders back, and even ran a fingertip down his length just for Jay's answering grin. Freed of cuffs and shirtsleeves, Terrence's hands were a stark thing of beauty - long fingers, large palms, strong and capable, destined only for making Jay's skin sing under the soft pressure of his fingers.
This Terrence seemed a far cry from his more awkward doppelgänger seen in public; Jay thought it a shame that he was only just getting to know him now.
"I'm going to give you the best blow job ever," Jay said - standing in front of the heater and wiggling his hips (well, he was cursed with the blasted things, so he might as well make good use of them) just a little as he undid the top button of his jeans. Terrence - thank God, the guy didn't seem to need explaining as to why Jay had covered the carpet with a quilt, sitting down cross-legged just before Jay's feet like some kind of sex-god idol - stared up at Jay as intently as Jay had watched him a moment previous. "If it's not actually the best blow job ever, you'll pretend it is because I said it is, okay?" For a moment, he reached down and stroked himself through his jeans, pressing the crotch seam as hard as he could against his clit, panting just a little as the tingling inside increased to a not-really-endurable intensity. At this point all Jay wanted was Terrence's fingers - his fingers stroking the nub of his clit, rubbing against his labia, slipping inside the already-wet folds of flesh and touching the ribbed, tingling walls until Jay came. "Terrence, baby, you've got no problems with touching me, right?" Jay slid the zip down with one hand, sliding his other hand inside his boxers, twisting the curls of hair with his fingers. "I want your hand just here." He pulled down both jeans and boxers with one hand, opening his legs as far as he could and still stand comfortably, resting just the tip of one finger against the outer folds of his labia, standing on the cuffs of his jeans to pull them off his legs. Terrence - and God, Jay didn't know if the sudden swooning sensation came from the pressure of his own hand or Terrence's actions, but hell it didn't tip him just that bit closer to the edge - reached forwards and grabbed Jay's clothes, folding them up and placing them in a neat pile besides Terrence's own.
"I want you so badly right about now," Jay said, wondering if tripping out from the sight of a man folding clothes was a medically diagnosable condition, dropping down onto the quilt to sit in front of Terrence, his knees angled up to his chest. He reached forward to take Terrence's hands in his own, pulling them forwards until Terrence had to lean over to allow the contact. He hadn't answered, but he had, and Jay was done with words - mostly, anyway. Jay leaned back a little further and Terrence peered over him - blinking as Jay weaved the fingers of his right hand between Terrence's left, rubbing Terrence's fingers through the curls of his hair and down between the slickened layers of flesh. "Just there," he murmured, pressing Terrence's fingers against his clit, shifting his hand so that he could guide a finger into rubbing tiny circles over the nub. "Just right there … like that. Round and round." He let Terrence take over for a moment, struggling not to thrust his hips up into Terrence's hand, and then guided Terrence's hand back and forth along the swollen crease, dipping the tip of his finger into the hot, wet hollow - Jay shuddered, jerking, not sure where he wanted the contact more, just that every centimetre of of his vulva was demanding to be touched and he didn’t think he could stand it a moment longer - and back up to his clit again. Every movement sent jolts through his groin. "Watch out, there's teeth."
Terrence made a small, sharp sound that might have been surprise, or amusement, or anything. Jay didn't care. He closed his eyes, hand slipping away from Terrence's without any thought from Jay - breathing hard, spreading his legs as wide as he could as though somehow it was going to make a difference, as if the cooler air on his too-hot body was going to bring him closer to coming, lying back on the quilt. Terrence moved one finger in small, steady circles over Jay's clit - and then Jay jerked again, rocking his hips up into Terrence's hands as one finger slipped inside him, so soft and gentle that it had a whimper tearing from Jay's lips.
"I can't find any teeth," Terrence said, thrusting that finger as far into Jay as he could reach, pausing a moment to stroke Jay's inner walls, drawing it back, dragging the tip around the ridge of muscle just beyond the opening until Jay loosened enough that Terrence could slide two fingers inside him, two fingers filling and stroking and stretching and goading that tingling to near unendurable levels - and never stopping the constant strokes of his fingertip over Jay's clit all the while. Jay didn't know when he'd placed his feet against the ground, when he'd stretched his legs so wide his thighs ached, when he'd started panting, when he'd started rocking his body into Terrence's hands, when Jay raised his hands to his chest and started touching and rubbing his nipples, his spine arched away from the quilt as he thrust his hips up, driving Terrence's fingers ever deeper. It was just the wet, firm movements of Terrence's fingers against, around and inside him, skin rubbing skin, the pressure building -
"Oh, God, please, please," he pleaded, Terrence's joke lost to Jay's ears as his clit tightened and his hips jerked in erratic, frenzied motions, far beyond Jay's control. He couldn't get full enough, couldn't get Terrence's fingers deep enough inside him to end that desperate craving, couldn't stand another movement of that constant brush of fingertips over his far-too-sensitive clit while his groin and spine and chest melted and burned and fizzled. "More. Harder. Just harder." Jay thrust his mound upwards; Terrence pressed down hard against his thickened clit, rubbing his thumb against flesh too swollen and slick to stand, the pressure causing so much pleasure Jay didn't think he could stand it. Oh, God, God, I can't stand this, I need to come, I need…
Terrence shifted his fingers inside him, rubbing against that spot where Jay almost thought he'd come except that the need didn’t ebb - and then moved his other hand, rough and quick. Jay's hips jerked - and then he came, stunned by the feel of contracting around Terrence's still-moving fingers, fingers that kept touching and rubbing and dragging out the orgasm somehow until Jay lay limp and gasping against the quilt, wondering if he'd ever, ever stop.
He did stop at some point, but by that time Jay was too caught up in the afterglow to pay much attention.
"See?" Jay gasped, lying back and enjoying the bliss - Terrence left his fingers resting inside Jay as though he didn't want to separate them, and curled his other hand through Jay's hair and along the inside of his thighs, combing and stroking in a way that was pretty damn relaxing, and Jay was tempted to just close his eyes and go to sleep then and there, because he could. "You were wrong. I totally did not talk my way through sex, so there." He said nothing for a moment more, knowing that he should get up off his arse and get cracking - it wasn't that Jay didn’t want to, more that he couldn't find any drive to move. His muscles had ceased to exist and his bones didn't care that motion and flexibility had gone out the window. "Fucking hell. I didn't think they fucking made cis gay guys like you."
Terrence - now almost back in his sex-god Buddha pose - gave him a sudden, almost bashful grin. Jay wondered if he'd ever seen anything more adorable, wondered if he'd think the same thing when he wasn't basking in a post-orgasm afterglow. Yes. I think it's yes. Or was it the fact that he had a man who knew how to fuck Jay until his toes curled without fucking Jay's head? "I asked some girls at work. They … well, their conversations tend to be rather open, so I didn't think it would bother them. They helped."
Jay jerked his head up; Terrence looked as serious as ever, if a touch bashful.
"I don't know whether to be thrilled or gutted I didn't overhear that conversation," Jay said, not all sure what he felt by that revelation - but he grinned, feeling way too damn good to do anything else. Worrying about the idea of Terrence talking about him to other people was for some other place, another time. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to care, didn't want to feel anything but loose and relaxed and well-fucked by a guy who knew how to use his fingers and folded clothes.
"They think I'm thinking about having a straight fling," Terrence added. "I wouldn't have told them - unless you want me to, I mean." His hand shifted, and Jay couldn't help a surprised twitch. "And I will, if you prefer that."
Jay sat up now, struggling against the lassitude, but too stunned not to meet Terrence's eyes properly, not to lean forwards and press his palms against Terrence's knees. "Fuck," he whispered. "And they're not giving you grief over that?"
Terrence shrugged, dipping one shoulder to the side. It might have been inconsequential. It might have been because he was embarrassed. Jay couldn't quite tell - but one day, maybe, he'd know how to read Terrence, or maybe it wouldn't matter, because Terrence knew how to read Jay - and knew how to make Jay understand when it mattered, when it really really mattered, when he told Jay with every movement of his hands that he was valid and worthy.
"Fuck," Jay said, again, because he didn't know what else to say. They didn't make them like Terrence. Oh, sure, there were cis people who didn't hate, cis people who accepted, but would any of them consider that their partner's trans status was not something they'd want mentioned in public, even to strangers? It wasn't that Terrence's co-workers were going to know who Jay was if they ran into him on the street, or even realise that Jay was trans as opposed to a cis guy or a cis woman, although Jay didn't love the thought of being introduced to Terrence's friends or family as being the trans guy. Not only was it something he should be telling if he wanted, it made him less than himself; it made his gender about the absences of things rather than a given, stripped him of the right just to be. It was different if someone spoke to his face and Jay had to correct them, but when someone spoke of him as the third person, in the abstract? It didn't need mentioning when he was a man just like anyone else. He wasn't a fucking object. But how would any of that make sense to a cis person? Jay didn't know if Terrence's co-workers would find a straight fling less weird than a trans boyfriend (which might be another reason for his reticence) but then why ask at all if Terrence didn't give a damn about Jay? Why put himself out there on that limb where it was never going to end well?
"I thought," Jay said, after a moment of just sitting there and staring at this gorgeous, wonderful man, "that you were … phoning it in, whatever." It didn't matter, really, that Jay wasn't wrong, that his body wasn't wrong, that gender was only a declaration. The world said otherwise. The world said he was wrong and fucked up, a liar, delusional, choosing to be different for attention. They told him that his mannerisms and his feelings and his expressions and his words were all at variance with what he said he was, that he was a woman with a woman's pieces pretending, that he could never behave and think like a 'real' man - never mind that the label made him more himself, made him right, made him fit. What reason was there to expect that someone really wanted him? "I've … there's been guys, and girls. Try it out, 'cause they're curious or because they pride themselves on how fucking enlightened they are, gender doesn't exist and all that fucking bullshit, but they scarper afterwards. Y'know - busy with work, too busy for a drink, fuck, has it really been three months since I've seen you?"
Terrence shook his head. Awkward, yes - the guy didn't fit in, or fit in as well as Jay did (if for different reasons) but lacking nothing in bravery and decency. "I thought that you would be awkward." He shrugged, raising his free hand, and Jay thought he understood. How did you deal with someone who didn't fit your preconceptions of what a person should be? "That perhaps you wouldn't want to be…"
"Finger-fucked to hell?" Jay grinned, and ignored Terrence's rather pained expression, knowing it wasn't quite what he meant.
"… touched," Terrence said after a moment; Jay glanced down, pondering the fact that Terrence's wrinkles probably had wrinkles by now, that Terrence's wrist had to be cramping like all hell, and yet the fact he still hadn't moved his hand and Jay didn't want him to - hell, he was going to come a second time if Terrence started moving even the slightest bit - seemed like the worst kind of irony. His fears made sense, though, as much as Jay's own. Terrence seemed like the sort of guy who needed to know what he was in for before he took the plunge, needed to have his life jacket ready and waiting, and what did he do if all of his preparation was irrelevant? What if that irrelevancy made Jay uncomfortable, or awkward, or hurt? What if his assumptions were wrong, or so hopelessly tangled in a world-view that didn't match, and what if he fucked this shit so badly there was no salvaging it, not when everything had been good? How did you fuck a person who, by conventional narrative, had no love for the bits he'd been born with?
"You could ask," Jay said, leaning forwards. Terrence's wrist moved with him. "Just ask, man. Don't assume, don't guess, don't think we're going to act like what we're supposed to be - what we're supposed to be is a load of cissexist bullshit designed to try and fit us into the binary somehow. Don't stress, don't worry. Just ask. I'll fucking tell you what I want, Terrence. I'll fucking tell you what I want, where and when, and if you try something I don't like, I'll fucking tell you that too, and we can try something else. I'm not so fragile, y'know. I can deal when you fuck up, if you mean it right."
For another moment, the silence hung between them; all Jay could hear was the fan on the heater, Terrence's breathing, and the occasional rattle or thump from the laundry as Rommie tried to remind them that she still existed, that she knew they were out there without her. Terrence nodded, eyes never flicking away from Jay's face, and Jay nodded back. Someone else would have said something, made hasty words or apologies, pleaded innocence or best intentions, but Terrence's nod was worth more than that. It wasn't an insistence that he was a good person, that he wasn't going to fuck up; it was just acknowledgement that Jay had been heard, a promise to try, and more important than anything that could have been said.
"Right now," Jay murmured, half cringing in regret as he pulled away from Terrence's fingers, shifting position until he sat right before Terrence's lap, taking his thick, heavy cock in both hands, "I want to do whatever you want, whatever that will make you call out, scream, beg. I want to see your gorgeous body writhe on the floor. I want to see you fucking let go." He ran his fingernails down Terrence's cock in lingering, gentle strokes, a featherlight brushing over skin that Jay knew would get under the skin of anyone with halfway functioning nerve endings and yet keep things nice and slow; one thumb he let linger on the slit, pressing in a way that made Terrence twitch and Jay considered a just revenge. Terrence wouldn't tell him much, he knew. Terrence would stare at him as he did right now, shrug a little, perhaps allow his breath to catch here and there, and leave the figuring out all up to Jay - but that was fine. They had all evening for Jay to figure out what made Terrence tick, and next morning as well, before or after taking Rommie for a walk in the park. Perhaps they had longer than that - more dates, more nights, a life.
Spending a lifetime learning to read Terrence, Jay thought as he wriggled into a lying position, his lips lowered to the loose foreskin around Terrence's cock, might not be an arduous task at all.
I'll also say that I had a ridiculously good time writing this story. Getting to let loose and write Jay's body, feelings and experiences as natural and right and wonderful in view of his gender was an incredibly liberating, empowering experience for me. I know, in the real world, that some transgender people have very complicated feelings about their bodies due in large part to our woefully cissexist society (and the discrimination, abuse, beatings, murders that come about because of how so many cis people feel threatened by transgender people; the continual unstated disgust for bodies that don't match the gender we're arbitrarily assigned to) and that Jay's self-assurance and confidence in himself and his own beauty/handsomness/bodily-validity as a man is more of a state to be attained, a wish, than actuality. But this is where we should be going, I think. We do whatever we need to feel right in our own skin, be it hormones or surgery, clothes and voice training, or just raising our voices, and not be defined by what we do and don't have or how we were raised. We should have the freedom to do whatever we need to be happy. But no matter what we do, we are beautiful and charismatic and brave, as we are, and we don't have to be trying to become as close to cis as possible to make it or have the 'right' body for our gender.