Page 12 of Love Language

Greg looked nervous. Because he was an asshole and starting conversations that way was always an excellent idea.

There was nothing to do but get it out of the way. I’m transgender, he admitted, making the sign like a flower opening and closing on his chest.

Greg looked at him in confusion. Right. Of course. He’d been teaching Greg a lot of signs for kinky terms tonight and it made sense that he wouldn’t know that one, either. It made sense if he’d mostly signed as a child and with his family.

I’m trans, he fingerspelled.

Greg blinked, his face emotionless. Fuck. Was he disgusted? Confused? Plotting a way to get out of what he’d just offered?

Marco was used to disclosing his trans status with new partners, but he usually did it up front, before deep personal conversations and offering to be someone’s first new partner after twenty years with a husband they were still mourning.

There were always a few pricks who responded with revulsion and didn’t deserve to walk the earth. But most people asked a clarifying question or two, sometimes a bit awkwardly, and then they could go on with their date or scene.

He was over his teenaged angst about his gender—it was more a fact like his Deafness or his Mexican heritage—but other people still needed to come to terms with it.

He was a transgender man who wasn’t afraid of being a bit feminine. And since he already had a twinky frame and the perpetually youthful face that hinted at his history, he just embraced it.

He didn’t think that Greg would be an asshole about his gender. But he still might not be interested.

You... Greg pointed, want to be a woman? No, you are...

Ah. He hadn’t considered that option. He’d only been experimenting with makeup for the past year or so. I’m a man, he explained, but I was born… differently. My body is a little different.

Greg still hadn’t responded, so he went on to explain himself a bit more. When everyone thought I was a woman, I hated makeup. I was already in the wrong body, and feminine things just magnified the feeling. But now that I’m a man, and I feel confident in my masculinity, I like playing with gender a bit, too.

I see, Greg signed slowly, the wheels visibly turning in his head.

Well, what the fuck did that mean?

Greg looked down and away. Marco waited with bated breath, their bodies still so close together, like lovers, even as the distance grew between them.

Is this OK? Greg finally asked.

That still didn’t make any sense. In ASL, pronouns like this were just a point in the direction of something that had already been referred to. But Greg hadn’t referred to anything before.

Marco suspected that the question wouldn’t have made any more sense in Spanish or English.

Is what OK?

Sorry, that was stupid. I just meant, are you still interested in me?

Still not making sense, but at least getting somewhere. God, Marco hated when these conversations got awkward. Nothing has changed about me from five minutes ago, just what you know about me.

Right. Greg’s hands stalled, mid-sign. Um, you’re a man, though? It was half a statement, half a question.

Marco felt himself bristling. He usually psyched himself up for these conversations and this one had blindsided him. Especially since he knew that Greg was still emotionally raw.

He felt like he had to protect both of their feelings, and it wasn’t a comfortable place to be when he was feeling vulnerable himself.

Men can be pretty, he finally signed. It was his usual response to jerks who wanted to take something up with him.

Greg still looked uncertain. Was this whole thing going to fall apart just because of some stupid flap of skin that might or might not be between his legs? He usually never got this worked up, but the idea of Greg turning on him now had triggered something in him.

Greg hesitantly launched his next question. Is it OK that I don’t know what to do?

The sub’s timid body language said that he’d probably been letting his aggression show, and that was probably making the situation worse. No one wanted to feel like a fool or disappoint someone by not using the right language or asking the right questions.

Marco felt his agitation ebb. From what Greg was asking, it seemed like the problem was lack of knowledge, not lack of interest. He should have trusted him more.