Kings and Queens
A queer, transmasculine erotica story: Part 1
Amber kept a firm grip on my hand as she maneuvered through the crowd: I guess she knew I was already looking for a way out of this packed, cavernous room. She lived off the excitement of others, and she was friends with the band, so it made sense that she was right at home here.
I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by large groups and hated music.
When we got to the front of the crowd, Amber sat on the end of the low stage. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the talent,” she said, just loud enough to be heard by a tall guy getting a guitar ready a few feet away.
He turned around, and I covertly scanned him from my low-angle. I bit the inside of my cheek when he came closer, a bright smile on his face. He wore a half-open vest over nothing, and I struggled to pull my eyes away from his lean, sculpted torso. He tossed his glossy, chin-length black hair out of the way as he retorted, “You better keep looking!” His voice was higher than I would have expected.
Amber tilted her head back to laugh, and he extended a hand to help her up to her feet. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. If they were a couple, they were the most beautiful couple in this small college town.
Amber opened up a button on his vest, already whispering something to him in the privacy of their casual embrace, when he turned to smile at me.
She introduced him as Alex: he surprised me by hugging me.
His arms were muscled too, and I gulped when I realized his bare chest was pressed against me. I must have looked as tense as I felt, because Amber covered her laughing mouth behind Alex’s back when she saw my face.
In the split-second before he let go of me, I noticed the texture of the skin on his chest near my collar bone. Well, It wasn’t skin, strictly speaking.
Shapewear.
I was familiar enough with the texture: I owned some myself, though I rarely had a reason to want my chest to look all chiseled and buff. Rather, I had the reason, but it was too personal to think of as being justified.
When I pulled back, I took noted of the differing texture of the skin over his chest and his abs: the skin over his mid-section really was just him.
So he was muscular, but had breasts. His voice was high, but masculine. And he’s friends with Amber, who brought me here to meet him.
Was Alex trans too?
I wanted to pull Amber away and ask her why the fuck she didn’t tell me: I didn’t mind meeting another trans guy, but I wished I had prepared for it. Especially when Alex was hotter, taller and manlier than me, at least at first glance.
But their chatting continued all the way until the concert started. Alex winked at me for no reason I could decipher before starting: I flushed and then immediately got angry with myself.
I obsessed over the question of whether my masculinity was being challenge or whether I was being flirted with. Or if I was being neurotic, and Alex was simply one of those people that made others feel nervous and flushed by their very presence.
Eventually, I got into the music, which I didn’t expect. Alex sang and played the guitar, along with a woman who played a couple other instruments. Her eyes were closed almost the whole time: she concentrated on the music as if it were a miraculous, fleeting thing that was happening outside of her control that she didn’t want to miss. She was skinny and wan, with dark circles under her eyes and long, brown hair that was tied back for convenience. Alex called her “Nat” on stage.
Unlike Alex, she wasn’t a showman: she was there strictly to make money for her art so she could continue making it, while Alex was busy quipping into the mic.
At one point, he threw off his vest, and feeling spurred on from the cheering, he slipped off the stage and approached me and Amber. He grabbed each of our hands and ran them down the front of his body.
Amber laughed heartily and crowd ate it up — only I seemed to be absorbing the warmth of his smooth skin. I meant to withdraw my hand, but the feeling of his grooved abdomen was too fascinating. The tip of my finger fell into the one of the deep cuts that formed a “V” down towards his hips.
I noticed too late that his hands no longer held mine still. I gasped and pulled away. His eyes met mine for a moment, a haughty smile spreading across his face.
Now I really wanted to escape.
The show ended around midnight, and I waited impatiently for Amber to announce that we could leave. I didn’t want leave now and to take a chance that she’d get drunk and try to walk back to our apartment alone, but when Alex approached us, I considered fleeing ‘to the bathroom,’ and not coming back. I decided to suck it up, at least from Amber’s sake.
“I’m gonna drive Nat home,” he said.
“Seriously? Why’d you drag me all the way out here, then?” Amber folded her arms and leaned against the bar.
“Come with us! I don’t think you’re buddy likes this atmosphere anyway.”
True enough, but the way he said it with that cocky look was offensive anyway. I rolled my eyes, and Amber nudged me in the arm.
Alex calmly looked me up and down, perhaps trying to judge my feelings about him.
After some back and forth I couldn’t hear, I followed the two out to Alex’s car. At the door to the house, he held the door open for Amber and then for me.
I refused to walk through as long as he was holding it.
I didn’t know when I’d chosen to act like a petulant child, but I felt I’d already burned this potential bridge, so I wasted no time reaching around him for the door and gesturing for him to walk through.
He didn’t.
Alex allowed me to hang in the awkward position in which I’d stubbornly put myself, my arm hovering slightly above his shoulders.
I ended up holding the door for a large party heading inside, and I watched Amber’s befuddled expression between their passing forms grow increasingly more agitated. A few flakes of snow began gathering in her hair.
One guy was heaving a keg beside him, forcing Alex to stumble back and come to rest against my outstretched arm. I held my breath as he languidly stretched out into my arm and the side of my chest.
I turned my head as he easily looked at my face, only inches from his now. But he craned his neck forward to meet my gaze anyway. I was close enough to feel his breath on my neck.
When I finally glanced at him side-long, he grinned triumphantly and said, “You’re quite the gentlemen.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but I had nothing to say. The people finally passed and Alex took the chance to stride out onto the pavement with Amber.
“Come on!” she yelled at me impatiently. I slowly unstuck my feet from where I stood, dumbfounded. The words arrogant prick ran through my mind, but my heart was beating too fast think that was all there was too it.
I sat in the back seat with Nat, who spoke in a soft, gravelly voice with a slight accent I couldn’t identify. Her knees dug into the back of Alex’s seat behind the wheel, and he made a big show of pushing the seat back into her lap.
Amber laughed harder than I’d ever seen her do before. I silently wished for an extra seatbelt.
I learned her full name was Natasha Israelov, and that she was looking to hire an animator for a project. I prepared to give her a clumsy, nervous sales pitch, but she offered me the work before I’d even finished the first sentence.
“I have a portfolio: do you want to see it first?”
“Send it to Alex, he deals with all this shit. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
I blinked at her, and she continued staring at me as if getting ready to reject any more suggestions I had for legwork she ought to do.
“I — thanks.”
“It’s fine. Remember to highball her.”
“Sorry, who’s her?”
But Nat had already decided our conversation was over. She abruptly closed her eyes and rested her head back against the seat. She seemed to fall fast asleep instantly, even as Alex blasted death metal in the front seat and thrashed to it for Amber’s amusement.
Back in the apartment, Nat retreated to her room while Alex got us some beer. In the living room, Amber and Alex caught up on people they knew in common. I sat on the edge of the couch, trying to zone out, but Alex turned to me frequently to keep me engaged in the conversation.
It seemed like they’d done some kind of modeling work together. I had no trouble believing that. Soon, they were both looking at each other’s phones and scrolling through Instagram.
“Hey, come here,” Alex said to me, and he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer to see what they were looking at. I was startled at this casual touch, but I felt some other way when his arm stayed draped over my shoulders.
I was being forcibly plastered against his side, the corner of my shoulder fitted comfortably in the crook under his arm.
Was this normal for guys? It was obviously a casual gesture for Alex and Amber, who went right on showing me fantastically beautiful images of human bodies artistically decorated. I kept my obligatory grin at the ready for when they spoke to me, but I couldn’t stop focusing on the heat of Alex’s body. The tension in my body made sitting still uncomfortable.
I squirmed slightly, and Alex turned to watch my body, lifting his arm only slightly so I could adjust my seat and pull my legs slightly apart. Then he pulled me against him again and turned back to Amber’s picture.
“Damn, this is you, huh?” he said, amazed, looking at photo of Amber in a bright, cherry-blossom colored wig and a tight gold body suit. He drained his fourth beer and set the bottle down.
“Yeah, very early in my transition. I didn‘t realized how trashy this was, yet.”
“Trashy?” Alex said incredulously.
“You look beautiful,” I said, forgetting for a moment that she and I weren’t alone. She blushed and turned back to the photo, while Alex looked around at me. His eyes were almost black, making it difficult to tell where he was looking when his eyes flicked up and down slightly. The grin on his face didn’t feel cocky anymore. He seemed grateful I was kind to his friend. I held my breath so I wouldn’t gasp, and he noticed.
“You’re doing that wrong,” Amber said, setting down her phone. “Try it like this.”
She wrapped her fingers around Alex’s jaw and connected her mouth to his. He brought his hand up into her hair without missing a beat, pulling her closer. Her hand slipped down to rub his chest, and he opened his mouth further, his head moving up to actively capture her lips. Her hair slid lazily against her bare arms as he played with it.
An embarrassing squeaking sound left my throat as I noticed how close I was to this intimate moment. It wasn’t a painfully sensual scene in a movie: it was happening 5 inches from my face.
I started slowly extricating myself from Alex’s embrace, but then I noticed his grip on me changing. He stroked my upper arm firmly, slowly, like he was enjoying the sensation. His knee found mine, as did Amber’s hand. Amber hadn’t touched me like this in a long time: our mostly platonic relationship had become chaste out of necessity in our hectic senior years.
When the two broke away from each other, Amber was straddling one of Alex’s thighs, the ends of her dress pooling up in front of and behind her. She nodded to me, biting her lip: your turn.
I looked at Alex, into his eyes and down at his raw lips: he licked them languorously. He gently contracted his arm, pulling me closer but giving me space to reject him. Amber massaged my thigh, and when I glanced at her face, she nodded energetically, urging me on. And I had plenty of reason to trust Amber by now.
So I let him kiss me, and I touched his thigh for support as I quickly became unstable.
After seeing his fierce attack on Amber’s lips, I was shocked by how gentle he was on me, not opening his mouth until I did so. His tongue entering me urged a soft moan from my throat: the sensation of his sliding against mine, controlled and practiced, relaxed me too much to feel any embarrassment.
I brought by hand up to his chest. Realizing he’d removed his shapewear and binder sometime before getting home, I gasped and withdrew my hand.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. But before I could belabor the point, he grabbed my hand and slipped it under the hem of his shirt, placing it over one of his tits. I noticed the cold, hard touch of metal and curiously felt at the piercing in his nipple. He pulled me closer and kissed me hard.
Amber kissed the side of my face, then my neck, and finally behind my ear, which made my eyes roll up and my lids flutter closed. I felt a deep rumbling in Alex’s chest — it could have been from watching me receive pleasure or from me lightly tweaking his nipple.
“Be right back,” Amber said, standing. She winked at me as she turned and retreated down the hall.
When she was gone, Alex grabbed my thigh and slipped his hand up under the crease above it, causing the skin over my clit to pull just slightly. I pulled away and dropped my head, heaving a long breath through my nose. With my head hovering by his lips, it must have looked a bit like a submission.
His lips brushed my neck before his tongue darted out to taste me. It travelled up to the back of my ear: I jerked involuntarily against his hand underneath me and a quiet whimper seeped out of my throat.
Fuck. “Fuck.” I repeated the word to myself silently. I really wish I was ready for this. His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, and the tip of his finger ran under my binder. His other hand slipped under my thigh, and he silently commanded me to move on his lap. How was he able to sit here with a stranger, unbound, making out with another man that was like him?
I wondered if there was a secret: maybe just time and maturity.
When his hand moved up to rest against my ribs, I gasped and pushed against his shoulders inadvertently, pushing myself off his lap.
He can’t touch me. He can’t touch me. He has no right.
“Hey, what is it?” His gently voice directed my attention to my own heavy breathing. Was I hyperventilating? Was that what this felt like? “Put your knees up. It’s okay.”
Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and held it for a second. When I exhaled, I sat up straight withdrew my hands from him.
His mouth hung open, his tongue rising to the level of his lower lip, his dark eyes staring straight ahead into mine.
I forcibly cut a grin into the side of my face, hoping not to look too pained as I said:
“S-sorry.” The remnants of a long-since defeated stammer were threatening to chop up my voice, so I spoke fast. “It’s not about you. Just, trans guys and trans guys, you know? I think I need more time before I’m ready for that.”
Alex looked away for a second, and when he looked back, his brows were knitted sheepishly.
“I think I fucked up,” he said. “I’m sorry about this — ”
“Why? You didn’t do — ”
“I’m not trans,” Alex said. “I’m a cis woman. I use she and he, so that throws people off sometimes.
I sat stock-still for a moment, and Alex seemed to be suppressing a smile: the kind that belies shame, but maybe a bit of amusement at the same time.
“You’re,” I said finally. “You — You’re a lesbian?”
“A bisexual lesbian.”
“What?” I drew out the word for several seconds as I tried to form an actual question. I didn’t.
“Bisexual, homoromantic,” she clarified.
“Ah.”
So, a lesbian, I thought bitterly. Someone who fucks women, and loves women, and is also somehow attracted to me. “I think I’m gonna go.”
I stood to leave but Alex gently grabbed my wrist. I didn’t want to turn back around: my face was burning and a painful mound in my throat threatened pain when I spoke.
“Come on, don’t leave angry. Can we talk for a bit?”
I pulled sharply away from Alex and left.
Out on the street, I stomped hard through clumps of snow that were in the process off freezing. Being angry, horny, ashamed, dysphoric, and freezing fucking sucked. I looked for hard chunks of ice to crash my heels into.
I ignored my phone, which ran continuously for about five minutes before Amber gave up on reaching me.
I ignored the sensation of the cold breeze hitting the skin behind my ear, which was still wet. I ground the fabric of my sleeve against it and pulled up my hood, before I could imagine Alex’s tongue trailing up my neck again.
Of course, it didn’t work.
When I got into my apartment, I rushed into my room and locked the door behind me.
I leaned back against the door, and finally turned to address the burning feeling in my body. In my face, heat pooled into my eyes and felt to be bleeding out.
She either wanted me, or just wanted me to feel included. Both options were unacceptable.
In my cunt, the aching feeling of waiting longer than I could bear, after a trip through intensity I couldn’t handle, caused a frantic trembling to take over my thighs.
My fingernails burrowed into the flesh of my palm, and I banged at the door uselessly with the side of my fist.
I went over to my bed and flopped down on my front, searching under my blanket while I unbuttoned my jeans. I found my wand, turned it on, and slid in under me. It hadn’t touched my clit yet when my whole body reacted to it.
A loud “ah” ground out of my mouth and I felt my muscles disintegrate and my bones melt. The waves of alternating, pulsating numbness and sharp pleasure that often needed time to set into my body was instantaneous. My fist clenched hard into the fabric of my pillow.
I hated this. I hated me, for feeling this good about something cruel that was done to me. My teeth dug into my wrist, and my groans became a harsh grunting that leaked through my clenched jaws.
I pushed up my hips enough plant my knees deep into the blanket and twisted my hips in small circles. I dropped my head to look down on the object that I could now imagine my be my body.
That’s how I got through the slog of masturbation these days. Thrusting with my hips. Pretending the toy was my cock. My other hand went to it to help perpetuate the illusion. That hand stroked the length of my shaft; it’s thumb rubbed against my head firmly.
While the other made gentle circles with the vibrator over my clit.
I groaned against the pillow and squirmed to lay the end of the toy flat against me. I whispered commands at myself: faster, harder, right there.
But I couldn’t do everything. That’s what the imagination was for.
I tried to concentrate on the sensation by mind tried to apply to me: someone’s thighs on the back of my own, their hands sliding into place at my hips, pulling them back and feeling the deep crease between my ass and my thighs.
A man would be good, right now. A trans guy, even better. Someone strong enough to hold me down and fuck me harder than I could do for myself, but knew the ins and outs of my body enough to cleverly use my toys in deceptive, euphoria-inducing ways.
Not that I knew anyone like that. Not that I should be thinking about him now. Thinking about his tongue behind me or his hands sliding up my ribs.
I closed my eyes as I approached my orgasm and tried to focus on sensations in my body, pressing the toy up into me, accepting the slight pain that now seemed inevitable for the pleasure that now threatened to split through my body.
Alex: the irritating voice in my head head formed the shape of his name in my lips as I came.
I collapsed down into my mattress and slowly kicked off my shoes. I’d need to take my binder off before sleeping, I reminded myself.
My knees drew up to my chest on their own and I heaved quiet sobs into my arm.
Fuck Alex.
My body shuddered, sensitive and hollow as I cried.
I finally calmed down, and in one heave that I focused all my energy in, I sat up and pulled off my shirt and binder. I slumped back down and pulled the blanket over me, hoping to sleep for a long time. A long, fucking time.
I heard the front door closed, and I heard Amber’s heavy bag hit the table and her bedroom door creak open. And then she was knocking at my door.
I groaned quietly to myself. “Let’s talk tomorrow, Amber.” I called sleepily.
But she knocked again, absolutely determined to start some kind of fight with me, it seemed.
“Hey buddy, can we talk?” Alex’s husky voice asked gently from the other side of the door.
