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Myfingers are still trembling a little asIslide my arm into the drawer and up through the gap above, feeling around the underside of the counter.Withapopof masking tape,Ipry the small vibrator out of its hiding spot and turn it over in my hands.
Asour taste fills my mouth as the toy yanks me from hot-ass wet dreams into dysphoria.Idon’t actually have a cis cock and balls for my captor to play with, and this cheap piece of teal plastic came in a pink box that definitely wasn’t aimed at men.Buta trans virgin has needs too.Dailyneeds, in my case.Sometimesseveral times daily.Ina house full of dudes with no boundaries, this is the fastest, most discreet way to deal with them.
Slidingthe sunshine-yellow bath matRomanpicked out into the middle of the floor,Ikneel on it with my thighs open.Thedull hum of the overhead fan covers up the buzzing that starts whenItwist the end of the vibrator.
Ituck the head up against the base of my bottom growth–the most sensitive part of my birth anatomy that, thanks to testosterone, has now enlarged into my dick.Assoon as the rumbling vibration brushes the hot, wet skin, my whole body shudders and my eyes roll back.
Theshitty bathroom fades away.I’mback in the forest with a stranger’s hands all over me, pinning me down.It’sa comforting fantasy, my oldest and most familiar, refined over ten years of playing with my body untilIhave every detail memorized.Ifsomeone asked mewhy this, since being assaulted is my biggest fear in real life,Idon’t know howI’danswer.Sometimespeople just want things–to be pursued and taken with such single-minded intensity, to have all the control and overthinking stripped away.
Moaningsoftly,Ithrust my cock against the thrumming plastic.Thehunter’s slick cockhead presses against my ass, huge and demanding.Ibeg him to be gentle, but he knowsI’mlying–
Thebathroom door rattles, and my eyes fly open.Inmy lust-haze,Ididn’t lock the damn thing.Yankingmy underwear up,Isilence the vibrator and throw it behind the trash can.WhenIstumble to my feet, flushed and breathing hard,Ifind myself face to face withBeck.
Heblinks unhappily in the light, his face scrunched and sulky.Hiswiry, pale hair sticks out in every direction.
“Whatis it?”Iprompt when he just stands there, swaying a little.
Heclears his throat, his voice so low and gravelly with sleepIcan barely understand him. “Where’dyou go?”
Igesture toward the toilet. “Takea wild guess.”
BlinkinglikeIjust asked him the most confusing riddle of all time, he rubs a petulant arm across his face. “Comeback.”
“Goodlord you’re such a baby.”Igo over and put my hands on his bare shoulders as he stares down at me with foggy green eyes.Eventhough he’s much bigger and stronger, he lets me turn him forcibly in the direction of the kitchen. “Godrink a glass of water.”Ionly need two or three minutes to find the vibrator and finish.
Buthe’s too far gone to listen.Withan irritated grunt, he grabs my wrist in one powerful hand and yanks me back across the hall, kicking the door shut behind us.Afterhaving an orgasm ripped away at the last second, it’s impossible not to get turned on by the way he pushes and manhandles me into bed and crawls over me back into his spot. “Beck,Ineed to–”
“Shutup,” he grumbles, throwing a leg over mine and rolling half on top of me.Withinten seconds, he’s asleep again.
I’mfucking trapped with his fingers splayed against my sweaty skin and his knee nudged up dangerously close to my dick.Myeyes burn with tears of pure frustration as he snuggles happily against my aching body.I’mso fucked upIconsider rubbing one out the old fashioned way right here and now.InsteadIjust glare into the dark, wondering howIended up here.
Thefirst dayImetBeck, whenIwas just a hungry, scared stranger, he let me sleep on a spare mattress in the corner of his trailer. “Justone night” turned into a week, then a month, untilhishome becameourhome, somethingIthoughtI’dnever find again.Thenext spring, my mattress got bugs and we had to throw it out.Wecouldn’t afford food, let alone a new bed, soBeckoffered me half of his broken futon.
Itwas supposed to be temporary.That’swhat we told our friends.Butsomewhere along the way, without ever discussing it, we stopped looking for a replacement mattress.Whenthe four of us moved to this derelict rental house,Scoutmade sureBeckandIhad our very own rooms with our very own beds–the height of luxury.
Wetried, we really did.Ilay awake for so many hours thatIfound every shape hidden in the drywall–a horse, a chef’s hat, a truck, the continent ofAustralia.Myhead hurt all day, andIkept snapping at everyone becauseIwas getting two or three hours of sleep a night.
Aftera few weeks,Igave up and stumbled out of bed at two in the morning.Ialmost screamed whenIpulled open my door to findBeckstanding right on the other side with his hand out to grab the knob.
“Whereare you going?” he whispered with this crooked, smug little grin.
Icrossed my arms stubbornly, refusing to sound as desperate as he knowsIam. “Lookingfor a snack.”
Aftera long pause, he leaned in until his forehead almost touched mine. “I’ma snack.”
“You’rea bag of rancid prawns.Yougive everyone the shits.”
Hepatted the side of my face with a grin, then shoved me out of the way and flopped face first into my bed with a contented groan.WhenIcrawled in next to him, he rolled onto his side and dragged my body tightly against his chest.Andfinally, we both slept.
ScoutandRomanstill don’t know.It’snot a shame thing; the four of us had no problem sleeping together in the winter when the house wouldn’t stay warm enough.There’sjust something private about those hours of darkness withBeck’sface in my shoulder, the warm, stale air cut through with the slow pattern of our breathing, the smell of his skin right before he wakes up.I’mnot ready to share the irrational joyIget every single morning when he lifts his head, squints at the daylight like it ruined his life, and grumbles, “Makeit stop,Dal.”
SometimesIjust hit him with a pillow until he gets up.Othertimes,Isay, “I’msorry.Mycreation needs the sun for the growing of crops and the functioning of human civilization.”
Healways regards me with a pout. “ButI’myour favorite.Fuckthem.”
ThenIhit him with the pillow, becauseI’llnever admit to him thatI’dconsider letting the planet fall into ruin just so he could get another fifteen minutes snuggled under my covers.Hisego’s big enough as it is.
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