A Boy Called Cin (8 page)

"It's hard to imagine you as
needy
."

"I've grown up." Cin shrugs. "I didn't start binding or asking people to call me 'he' until the summer before college, and only around a few people I knew I could trust. College has been great, actually, because it's let me be a boy full-time. Even if some people still insist on misgendering me."

Tom bites down on his lip. Cin knows he wants to do something about that last part, but he's obviously realized that it's not his place. Even if there was something to be done, that would be Cin's prerogative. It's nice to have someone understand that, even though they clearly want to run in and fix it for him. It had taken a lot to get Rachel to stop doing it.

"Thank you. For telling me all that." Tom plays with his wine glass, peering at the remaining mouthful as though it's full of answers. "I'm still thinking about… y'know. Gender stuff. I can't decide if I just don't feel like what I think a man's supposed to be, or if I actually…"

Cin gives Tom a moment to continue, but when it becomes obvious that he's run out of words, Cin shuffles over and crawls into his lap. Tom's a lot bigger than he is, and it's nice to cuddle up this close to him. He's been trying to put his finger on what exactly it is about Tom that he likes, and Cin's more or less come to the conclusion that, aside from attractiveness and intelligence, it's that Tom seems
safe
. That's probably because he has gender-related issues of his own and he kind of gets it.

"Well, if you want to try different pronouns or go dress shopping or play with makeup or anything like that, I'm with you. I'm all about tearing down the walls of gender."

"I don't think I want any of that. I mean, pronouns, maybe, but I've been going with 'he' for nearly forty years. Too much work to change it now, and no one would go along with it, anyway."

"I would," Cin offers. "We can test it out. You can always go back."

"No, I… thank you for the offer. I'll think about it. But, y'know, I've been doing this for a while and it's really enough for me that you've agreed not to touch my dick. I know I keep saying it, but I mean that. It helps so much."

"You're very welcome." Cin kisses him softly. "I know I don't really seem like I take much seriously, but it's important to me that you're comfortable. I would really hate to think that we were having any kind of sexual contact that made you unhappy. Or other contact, honestly."

Tom nods and lets his arms fall around Cin's waist. "Think we've got time for a little
sexual contact
before the pizza shows up?"

"I'm willing to find out if you are." Cin beams.

*~*~*

When Cin first came to the little town Tom's house is in, he'd assumed that it would be mostly empty and quiet, and Tom had chosen it for those reasons. The house is private enough, set on a slope, so only the top floor is visible from the road, and away from the neighbors on both sides to the point where Cin's barely aware of them until he's driving past on a grocery run or something. Now that he's in what he supposes passes for a shopping center here, though, there are a lot more people than he'd imagined.

He'd go so far as to say it's
bustling
with activity. Mostly holidaymakers, he guesses, but there are plenty of people he can tell are locals. As much fun as he was having escaping the rest of the world with Tom, it would have been a shame to come out here without ever seeing more of it than the walls of Tom's house.

It's not impossible to understand why
Tom
isn't really pushing to go out all the time, since the only way he's going to get a break is to not appear in public, no matter how small the town is, but he's busy with what Cin assumes are genuinely important business things right now, and there's only so much TV he can watch without succumbing to cabin fever.

He's just settled down at a little café facing the ocean, close enough to hear the waves and the birds, when he spots what he recognizes as one of Tom's neighbors. She's about his age, here with her family, and that's the extent of Cin's knowledge about her, but he smiles over anyway when she glances at him.

The next thing he knows, she's sitting down across from him.

"Hi," She smiles brightly, showing off a row of perfect, blindingly-white teeth. "I'm Angela. You're staying with Tom Walford, aren't you?"

So Tom hasn't gone completely unnoticed, despite what Cin assumes are his best efforts. "Yeah, that's me. I've seen you around. You're in the house across the street, right?"

"Uh-huh. So are you, like, his nephew? Secret long-lost son? New PR minder?"

Cin chuckles. "Not quite, no. I don't think he needs a PR minder. He's pretty good at not putting his foot in his mouth in public and he's excellent at apologizing when he does." Cin plays with his coffee cup. "He does it a lot more in person, but he's still very good at apologizing, so I don't mind."

"So if you're not any of those things…?" Angela's clearly not going to let him off the hook about what, exactly, he's doing staying with a famous billionaire. He shouldn't really have expected that she would. If people knew about it, they were bound to be curious.

"I'm just spending the summer with him. We're…" Cin pauses to decide how much of a lie to tell, and decides to go with a half-truth. "Friends. He came to an exhibition my work was in, and he likes it."

That possibly sounds worse than 'I'm his fuck buddy for the summer'. Cin watches Angela carefully to see how she'll interpret it.

"Right," she says, disbelief clear on her face. "Listen, you don't have to tell me, but that was a terrible lie."

"I'm a terrible liar. But that was honestly true. Maybe just not the whole story."

Part of him would like to just
tell
her, but that could easily bring media vultures down on their heads—on the heads of the whole town—and that's the last thing Cin wants. Tom specifically came to this place because it was a sleepy little town where no one would care that he was there and he could actually have a normal holiday for once in his life, and he'd trusted Cin to share that with him. Their relationship was going to have to involve keeping things quiet.

On the one hand, Cin appreciates that. He doesn't really want to be a figure of national curiosity and he
definitely
doesn't want enthusiastic, bottom-feeding journalists digging dirt up on him, because there is a lot of that to be found and he really just wants to get college over and done with as quietly as possible. On the other hand, not being able to just respond with 'I'm here because Tom's my boyfriend' is frustrating.

Angela doesn't seem interested in pressing further, so Cin turns his attention to the beach instead. It might be nice to find a slightly quieter one to go wandering on with Tom. He feels a little ridiculous, wanting horribly stereotypically romantic things from him, but Tom's sweet and warm and safe to be around. There hasn't been a whole lot of romance in Cin's life.

"I'd better get back to my parents," Angela stands up from the table. "Whatever you two are up to, have a nice holiday."

"You too." Cin gives a small wave as Angela turns away. How much more often would something like that happen if he was more serious with Tom? Angela might have just been a curious gossip, but more dedicated people with more to gain from finding out things about Tom's personal life were bound to come after him sooner or later, once it became common knowledge that they were together. Cin isn't sure he could deal with that.

On top of that, it would mean that his transgender status became a matter of public record, whether he wanted it to be or not. It's only now occurring to him that that's the kind of thing that would put him at real personal risk. Tom's wonderful, but he's not Superman. He's not going to sense that Cin's in actual danger and come swooping in to rescue him, as much as Cin's sure he'd like to be able to do that.

A seagull lands on the other side of the table and squawks at him. "I don't have anything for you," Cin explains. Somehow, this seems less stupid than saying Tom was a friend who likes his art. He'll have to think of a better cover story.

The seagull doesn't seem to believe him, and remains standing in place.

"I admire your persistence, but you can't get blood out of a stone."

The seagull squawks again. It's starting to make Angela look like a pushover in terms of being brushed off.

Even if he does get good at dodging questions and ignoring reporters and maybe changing the routes he takes to get places so the press wouldn't find him—which seems like a lot of work to just
assume
he'll be okay with—he's not going to be able to avoid being under the spotlight if he gets any closer to Tom. It's a nice thought that they could just be like any normal couple, one or two quirks aside, but they can't be.

Cin's coffee is suddenly too bitter to drink, the breeze too harsh to be enjoyable. He stands and leaves a five-dollar bill on the table, secured under his half-empty coffee cup. The thought of further human interaction just now makes his stomach hurt.

The walk back to Tom's house isn't long enough for him, so he makes his way down what he supposes is a hiking trail that meanders off into the woods that surround this little patch of housing. Compared to some of the others nearer the beach and closer to town, Tom had chosen a relatively modest house. It's strange to think of him not showing off, but on reflection, he'd only shown off in ways he thought would make Cin happy before.

Thinking about that only makes it harder for Cin to accept that this isn't—and can't be—a long-term deal. He wants to go back to Tom and curl up beside him and just keep pretending, but he doesn't want to hate Tom when it has to be over.

The trail loops back around, so Cin emerges a few hundred meters down the road from the house. He'll go back and enjoy what they have while they have it.

"God, I'm so
sore
." Tom moans as he wakes up. "You coulda warned me."

Cin makes a soft noise and rolls over toward him. "I warned you. Didn't listen," he mumbles.

It was possible that Cin had made some warning along the lines of, "We don't have to do this now, and if we do, you're going to hate yourself in the morning."

Tom had ignored it, and lo and behold, it's morning, and he hates himself.

"This can't be what it feels like for you. It's not, right?"

"This might come as a shock to you, but your asshole is like any other muscle in your body. If you suddenly start using it differently, you'll be sore. It's like the morning after your one workout per year."

"Ouch. You're mean in the morning." Tom pokes Cin's stomach gently.

"You woke me up to complain that your ass hurts after you
begged
me to put a full-size dildo in it. And accused me of not warning you about exactly that, which I did." Cin stretches out, finally opening his eyes. "I can rim you, if you want. Might help."

Tom considers, not missing the low burn of arousal in the pit of his stomach, or the twinge of soreness that accompanies it. "That sounds amazing, but also like it might hurt more than it helps."

"Your call. Was it worth it?"

"Hell yes. I can't believe I've been missing out all these years." It honestly feels a little like a revelation. Tom's sore in a way he's never been before and he can tell it's going to haunt him for a few days at least, but it was worth it.

Not that he'd put this on Cin, but he feels a little cheated, too. Cin's been perfect, better than he'd ever hoped for in a partner, but looking back, there were a lot of people who could have done this for him. A lot of people he should have been able to trust and now, in hindsight, knows he couldn't. It hurts that the first person who's cared enough about him to even try is a twenty-year-old kid. Especially one he's pretty sure thinks Tom isn't serious about him. He has to think of a way to make it clear that he is, regardless of age gaps or celebrity status or anything else Cin might think would stop him. That's something to worry about later, though.

"At some point in the future, I'd like you on your hands and knees under me," Cin drawls. "Kinda want to make you cry again. In a good way."

Tom's stomach flips over at the idea, but also in a good way. "Yeah. Probably after I can sit down again, though."

"Mmm," Cin agrees, and then shuffles closer to curl up against Tom's chest. "You don't need to sit right now. You can keep lying down. I'll get you some cold cream when I'm awake. It'll help and it won't hurt going on."

"Cuddling helps too." Tom puts an arm around Cin's shoulder. "I can see why you like having stuff up your butt so much, by the way. I mean, I'm complaining now, but I had something like four orgasms last night and that's not something to be sneezed at."

"What does that even mean; not to be sneezed at?" Cin asks sleepily.

"I got no idea. I'll look it up later. It's not just my ass, you know. It's basically everything between my waist and my knees."

"Probably because we had you practically folded in half." Cin yawns. "You're surprisingly flexible."

"Clearly not
that
flexible." Tom huffs a laugh. It is surprising, the things he finds himself managing to do for Cin. Like his first attempt at licking someone's butt, for example. Which was honestly nothing like he'd imagined, but he still wouldn't do it for anyone else.

"Well, if it helps, I got off on you getting off."

"That does help." Tom reaches out to run his fingers through Cin's hair. Cin makes a happy noise and snuggles closer, which does more to take Tom's mind off his discomfort than any cream would have a hope of doing. "Can I assume you were showing me what you like?"

"I'm happy enough topping, but when I
do
bottom, I like to go all out. From behind, hair pulling, shoulder biting. Maybe being pulled up into your lap and just held there. I mean, I also like being on top. It's probably fair to say that as long as I get off, I'm having a good time."

Tom grunts in acknowledgement as his stomach sinks. He knows that Cin isn't implying that he's not enough for him, but it'd be nice to be able to just
give
him that without freaking out over it. Regardless of everything Cin's said about it not being important and him being happy to work with whatever makes Tom comfortable, he still wishes they didn't
have
to work around him. At least, as much as they do.