AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Frankie rarely discussed his plans for the future with Diego. Diego was pretty open that he wanted to start some sort of queer, inclusive business in the city across the river, but he was still solidifying his plans. Frankie always encouraged him, but had never mentioned he might also be interested in more inclusive spaces. If that was actually what he meant by “liberal.” Maybe he just wanted to sleep with a bunch of pretty French people, which Diego definitely couldn’t fault. Just for their beautiful clothes Diego sort of wanted to sleep with them too.
“Do you have a place lined up?” Diego asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
“Yeah, one of our classmates, Gabby? She’s living there with her girlfriend and she invited me to use their second bedroom for the year. Then they’re planning to move to Amsterdam. They said I was welcome to go with them then, but I’m not really sure if I want to be gone quite that long.”
Thank god for tiny mercies. Diego knew there was no telling if Frankie would move back here when he was done, but at least he’d be in the same country.
Diego’s thoughts momentarily strayed to the appointment he’d had last week with Dr. Swanson, where she had said he could probably be through with his bottom surgery and recovery in less than six months if he so chose. That meant he would be done by the time Frankie returned. As if that should matter. And it didn’t. Notreally.
“That’s incredible, Franklin. You’re going to have such an amazing time. And who knows, maybe you’ll love it so much you do stay.”
Damnit, what was he saying?
Frankie shrugged his statement off. “Nah, Lopi lives here so I’ll probably want to come back sooner rather than later. And besides, you graduate next May, right? Would be great to take on this city with a good buddy by my side.”
Diego didn’t even comment on the bizarre nickname Frankie had for his older sister. His brain was stuck on two other words. Good. Buddy. Diego bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper. Frankie’s eye twitched like maybe he hadn’t meant the stupid nickname either, but neither of them said anything so it sat between them, slowly expanding like a blowfish until it sucked up all the air in the room.
Diego wasn’t one to drink away his sorrows, but he was feeling well prepared for his finals and he desperately needed a distraction. When Dustin, who he hung out with from time to time, texted him to swing by the frat house for a 90s themed dance party on Friday night, he decided to oblige.
The party was already in full swing when he arrived, and he immediately spotted Dustin and Chris on the dance floor. Dustin had run for Historian, and Chris had run for Vice-President. They’d both been elected, quickly being nicknamed the fraternity’s power couple. He’d heard from Dustin that they were planning on moving in together over the summer and finishing out their senior year hand-in-hand. Or perhaps arm-in-arm and lip locked like they were now.
Diego gave them a friendly wave but he wasn’t in the mood for humoring the happy couple. He wandered over to the bar and saw two women he recognized from Rainbow Club but didn’t know very well. He said hi to them as he filled up his cup with some sort of fruity mixture that went straight to his head after just a few sips.
He assumed his usual position on the couch and proceeded to zone out, allowing his mind to wander to French pastries and French men wearing their gorgeous French clothing. Maybe he could ask Frankie to bring him back some clothes. He’d been making a concerted effort to dress better, and he’d fallen into thrifting with his friend Eliza. She was a master thrifter and liked to dress Diego in things he would have thought were too feminine, but she always managed to style him just right.
That was another elusive part of gender. When he had still been thinking of himself as a woman, he had dressed as masculine as possible in baggy gym shorts and ill-fitting t-shirts. Then he’d transitioned and felt like he had to hide his body, and so he’d continued to wear boxy, masculine clothes. After his top surgery, however, he’d slowly begun feeling the urge to play with the gender of his clothes, leaning a little more feminine and finding beauty and grace in some of the softer fabrics and more playful silhouettes. His style was quite European now, and his mouth watered at the idea of all the amazing clothes Frankie would see. Or maybe it was just the overly sweet drink.
He downed the rest of it and went back to the makeshift bar, really just a sheet thrown over their decrepit pool table, for a refill.
When he returned to his couch, he slowly did a scan of the room, and a familiar pair of pastel pink shorts caught his eye. Frankie, the reason Diego was out drinking in the first place, was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing happily with Dustin and Chris. They’d maintained a semi-close friendship throughout the semester, and Frankie must have just told them his news because suddenly Dustin had his arms around his neck and Chris was squeezing his waist. They danced for a little longer before Dustin made some of the most obvious bedroom eyes at Chris that Diego had ever seen. They excused themselves, and wandered to the staircase in the back of the room, probably to requisition some poor freshman’s room. Diego was a little grateful he hadn’t been in a frat as an underclassman. He didn’t do well sharing spaces with people now, let alone before he had transitioned.
Diego absently watched Frankie dancing, trying not to focus too hard on the way his slender hips moved or the perkiness of his ass. Diego had wide hips and a pretty large ass for a dude, but he sort of liked the way he filled out his pants, and the longer he was on T, the more the extra padding in his butt responded to his many squats and deadlifts and turned into firm muscle.
Frankie on the other hand was all lean lines and subtle curves. Diego usually tried not to let himself imagine anything to do with Frankie, because it gave him a weird sort of longing tinged with dysphoria he couldn’t describe. However, as he considered his potential surgery, he found felt more hopeful than ever that some of the dysphoria might go away.
Diego pulled out his phone and set a reminder for Monday morning. He was going to call his surgeon and inquire about availability. He must have been drunker than he thought, though, because he kept writing wurgeon, qurgeon, and zurgeon over and over until he finally just saved it that way. At least he’d have a nice laugh on Monday before his first final.
Movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Jeong making his way over to Frankie. Jeong was a newer member of the frat, having pledged in January with most of the other underclassmen. As a grad student, Diego had been able to rush during the fraternity’s more limited Fall Rush, designed for grad students and those who didn’t make it or for whatever reason missed the January Rush. Not all fraternities did this, as it wasn’t required by the Interfraternity Council, but their fraternity was very inclusive, which meant giving second chances and opportunities to transfer students, grad students, and those with late-breaking interest.
Diego watched as Jeong sidled up next to Frankie and after a brief heated look, which rivaled Dustin’s earlier gaze, they started to dance. Jeong immediately pressed his small, round butt up against Frankie’s crotch. Frankie’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he happily gripped Jeong’s hips and they started to dance.
Diego had only interacted with Jeong a few times, but during their first conversation, when he was rushing the fraternity, he’d come out to Diego as trans. Diego had asked if he’d done something to make him feel comfortable coming out and Jeong had shrugged and smiled bashfully, saying that he had pretty good trans/gay-dar. He’d asked a few questions of Diego, about the safety and openness of the frat and, with Diego’s assurance, he’d continued rushing and been given a nearly unanimous bid from the entire fraternity.
Jeong had asked him to be his Big, and Diego had considered it. Graduate students weren’t required to take littles because most of the big/little events were on weeknights. Diego had ultimately declined, but they’d gotten coffee a few times on campus and Diego had been impressed with the kid. Well, he wasn’t really a boy. He was a second semester sophomore, but still seemed young to Diego. He’d apparently transitioned while living in South Korea, but had always wanted to come to the U.S. to study architecture. His father was a dual citizen, and Jeong was considering applying for a green card, since transgender laws and health care were better here than in South Korea.
As Diego watched, they began really getting into the music, swaying, and bopping, moving their hips in different directions to create pretty pictures that were more interesting to watch than just grinding. The fancy moves were also clearly getting them both going if Frankie’s flushed face was anything to go by.
Suddenly, Frankie spun Jeong around and began dancing on him. Diego wondered if his own face looked as shocked and alarmed as Jeong’s did.
It was like watching a car accident. Diego just couldn’t look away as Frankie turned around and looked down at Jeong in confusion. He was about three inches shorter than Frankie, which made sense since Frankie was a lanky 5’11” and just like Diego, Jeong was on the shorter side of 5’6” or maybe 5’7”.
Diego strained his ears, but he could only hear the girls chatting next to him. He watched as Frankie looked down Jeong’s body and then asked something, his eyebrows raised and mouth turned down.
Jeong took a step away but kept his shoulders square and his head held high as he responded. Diego watched as Frankie’s expression morphed to realization, and then a soft smile crept across his lips, curling up into a genuine grin as he said something Diego could have sworn was, “Can I still suck it?” Or maybe “fuck it.” Either/or.
Jeong’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled hesitantly up at Frankie who asked something else, eliciting an immediate nod from Jeong. Frankie turned around and began dancing on Jeong again, who wrapped his arms around Frankie’s hips, his hands slowly creeping up his thighs.
Diego needed another drink. He got up and walked back to the bar, filling his cup, downing it, and then filling it again.
