Ben-assurance

##Tristan

Ben insisted on coming over after my string of pathetic excuses over text the next weekend. He wanted to go to a gay bar with me and I wasn't even close to in the mood. I was still wallowing in self deprecation and guilt over Katherine in spades. She responded to my texted apology with a short acceptance. I couldn't bring myself to ask her to meet up yet. I managed to talk him down from the gay bar and into dinner at my place.

The knock on my door came around 5, after a series of logistical messages. I hadn't put on real clothes in my mood even with Ben coming over. I had found a clean pair of black joggers and a t-shirt without plants on it by some miracle. Laundry was piling up in my closet, my good binder and stylish work button up shirts buried in the pile. I scraped my hand through my hair and hoped Ben would understand the mess I currently looked like. I opened the door, gaping at the gorgeous silver fox beyond it. My god, he was divine in the warm tones of dusk light shining on my stoop. I swore the man lived in fitted slacks and ironed shirts. There wasn't a fold out of place on his heathered grey sweater over his khakis. His hair was loose, peppery strands wandering over his refined face. His steel eyes were framed in brushed metal frames, giving him the look of a stern librarian over the secretarial RBF he normally wore.

He was wearing dad shoes, which made me giggle a bit. He noticed my gaze on his canvas shoes and gave me a teasing quip, "Did you think all my shoes were leather?"

I teased him back, "Yes. Perfectly polished and kept in neat rows in your foyer beside your umbrella."

He feigned offense, "I'm a Washington native, Tristan. I do not own an umbrella."

I smiled at him, "Of course. Your Arcteryx raincoat then."

He came a little closer, into the shadow of my doorstep, taking my breath from me. God he was fine up close. I loved the wrinkles over his brows and lines in his lips. I seemed to find something new to like about his face every time I saw him.

He booped me on the nose, "It's a Patagonia thank you very much."

I gave him a chuckle and let him in.

We managed to order Chinese food without much drama, Ben being decisive and sure about food. It was something I appreciated about him, having never to be the one to make all the executive decisions on a date. Navigating that with anxiety was a bitch more often than not. We sat on my worn-in paisley couch as I made my way through Kung pao chicken, talking about work weeks. He used chopsticks to pluck at some stir fry vegetables as he bemoaned a troublesome young employee causing drama in the office by stealing lunches. I could only laugh a little. If only a missing lunch was my work struggle instead of constant misgendering. Not to say a missing lunch is a small matter. Getting lunch in downtown Seattle is a $20 affair typically. Far too expensive for an everyday occurrence. I told him about my advertisement job for an independent brewery in SODO I was working on. He soaked up my words about logo design for multiple formats as he finished his vegetables. He helped himself to a glass of water afterwards, only having to be told about the pitcher in the fridge. Truthfully, I envied Ben's confidence a little. He told me what he wanted for dinner, would absolutely take no argument about buying and asked to help himself to my kitchen without much thought. I would be rife with anxiety about all of that was I over at his house.

He handed me a glass of water and settled next to me. I finished the water after the salty food. Ben turned toward me, his metal eyes hooded with careful thought. He ran his manicured finger over my thigh, rippling the thin material of my joggers. His voice was level, eyes holding concern as he asked, "Care to tell me what all of this is about Tristan?"

My brows furrowed. "This?"

His lips thinned and relaxed. "The active deference. The pajamas. The dishes in the sink and clutter on the table."

His words made me realize how much of a neat freak I was normally. I was always worried about someone coming over on short notice and the house being a wreck. Like it was right now. At least the plants were fed and watered. I would never forgive myself for neglecting them. I felt my heart rate pick up and my teeth set. This was because of my argument with Katherine. I had been a wreck most of the week, slogging through work and eating bad food at home. I hadn't gone for a run or drawn for shit. I should just tell him what a piece of shit I was. I should tell *someone.* Ben would understand, right? Probably not but I had to say something.

I put my forehead in my hands, "I had a fight with Katherine."

Ben put his hand on his chin, "You were quiet last Saturday. I assumed it was because we were meeting new people. Want to talk about it?"

Not really. But I should. I took a deep breath, the worry and sorrow back in force. How do you explain you were being a jealous piece of shit? I felt my breaths shallow as I tried to conjure something to say. The room dissolved around me as I got lost in my own racing thoughts.

I felt his grip on my knee, gentle and firm all at once, dragging me back to reality. "You don't have to tell me, Tristan. There's no pressure. I'm just here to listen."

God, why? I didn't deserve it.

His thumb brushed my knuckles. I snapped under the pressure of my anger at myself, my sadness at my situation. I am pathetic. My voice was thick, "I got jealous. I took it out on her." It came out hard, my face in my hands. He let me vent. "She didn't deserve it. I just got so mad. I've been dealing with all of this like shit. My temper is so bad." My voice degraded as I continued, tears burning my eyes. "It was never this bad before." My voice cracked. My chest hurt.

Ben gathered me in his arms, cradling my head in his chest. His hands consoled me, stroking my arm and hair.

All the words I had been holding in me for months came out, "It's the testosterone making me crazy. But I don't want to stop it. My voice hasn't dropped. I still have hips. I can't stop eating. I still have no facial hair. I can't pass for shit. I'm terrified every time I go into a men's room." My face hurt, my chest hurt from the maelstrom of feelings in me with nowhere to go. Even with all that, the tears wouldn't come. They burned my eyes but never came out. "I'm a man, Ben. But that's not what people see when they look at me."

His grip tightened on me. His hand caressed my face. "Everything you're feeling is valid, Tristan. I'm sure many men feel the way you do. Wishing they had more facial hair, more muscles and the like. I wish I knew some advice to give you or means to expedite all this. I'm not going to pretend to understand what you are going through. If you want to talk, I'm here. If you want me to hold you, I will."

His words put me at ease, even with the knot in my chest. He was being genuine in his compassion when he didn't have to be. I was overwhelmed with everything I was feeling. I tried to focus on his warmth, on his breathing and heartbeat to calm down. I breathed in time with him. I climbed into his lap and rested my cheek on his shoulder. It helped against the wave of emotion threatening to drown me, even if just a little.

After a few minutes of silence, just breathing with him, I felt like I wasn't going to break. He rubbed my back slowly as he leaned back against the couch.

Ben spoke softly then, his deep voice barely a whisper, "You said you were jealous. Can you elaborate? Maybe I can help with that."

"She's gorgeous, Ben. Perfect. She's successful, put-together, mature and considerate. She has two partners she's been with for a long time. She's so busy all the time. I thought it was a time thing. I see her like once a month. But now I'm not so sure." I confessed.

"Oftentimes, jealousy is mired in our own insecurities that we are projecting onto others. Jealousy still happens in polyamory all the time as a result. You are dealing with a lot of changes right now, with yourself and your life. There's going to be uncertainty as you work through those changes. What did you say to her?" He explained.

I took a deep sigh. "I told her she didn't prioritize me. She didn't want me as a partner. I got angry when she said she needed time to make that decision. All of which is completely unreasonable. She does prioritize me as much as she can."

"Do you want to be partners with her, Tristan?"

I had to think about his question. "I'm not sure. What if I'm not... enough for her?"

"Enough of what Tristan?"

"I don't know." I huffed.

"Hmm. Attractive? Check. Successful? Check. Put-together? Most of the time. Mature? Definitely. Considerate? Overly-so by my opinion. You have two lovers and are quite busy yourself, young man. Nobody's perfect. We are all just trying to get by in a harsh world most times. You are trying to get by while dealing with all these changes too. If you want more time, ask for it. If you want to be partners, ask for it. It's better to ask and know the answer."

"That's easy for you. You exhale confidence."

"I can be just as anxious as you, I assure you. I would scramble if you cried, if you asked me to help you cook. I'm shit as handling those things. I just have little patience for drama and no tolerance for willful stupidity. I know what I want, what my limits are most of the time. I know when I'm out of spoons. Mostly because I learned the hard way. By hurting myself and others." He paused, thinking. "I think that your insecurity about your transition and your jealousy may be related. It's worth thinking about."

I rubbed my cheek against his sweater. "Yeah I think so. I think about fucking her alot. I don't even have a bio-dick."

"Does it form as wanting to be inside her? Wanting to cum inside her? Feeling her cum around your cock?" His words were a deep whisper, sending shivers down my body. My dick perked just at the thought of doing those things to Katherine. He continued, his palm on my spine. "You can give her all that if she wants it Tristan. Just as you could give it to me. The only reason you can't is because of your thoughts on the matter. Nothing else."

A smile played on my lips, "Well and you're a top."

He whispered in my ear, "I'd definitely bottom for you, handsome."

I blushed into his sweater. I imagined Ben on my bed, long legs spread for me as he gave me a sultry gaze. My dick jumped in my pants.

My dick softened when he asked, "Do you have.... What's the word? Dysphoria?"

"Yes."

"Is it just your genitalia?"

"I think it would be a shorter list if you asked where don't I have dysphoria." I sighed.

Ben's hands landed on my waist. "Where is it the most prominent?"

I answered carefully, thinking my words out, "I mean I have it with my face because I'm... cute. I have it with my... pussy but only really when I'm penetrated there, yknow. It the worst on my chest."

"Is that why you leave your shirt on during sex? Are you worried it would make you less attractive to your lovers?"

My words were a tad clipped, "I mean, I have... tits."

"That makes you no less a man, Tristan."

"I- I know."

He sighed. "From me, I want to see my lover naked, just as he has seen me. With all my gray hair and wrinkles. I want to see the entirety of his sexy body before me. I want him to feel safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable like that with me. Even if I can't touch your chest. Even if I takes a little time."

"Ben..." I pleaded with him, unable to take anymore compliments in my admonished state.

"Let's try reframing it. It's not a trans man showing his chest to his gay lover and hoping he finds him attractive. It's two lovers sharing their bodies with each other who are both fiercely attracted to the other and enjoy each other immensely."

"I do find you fiercely attractive Ben. I like your gray hair and wrinkles." I cupped his face as his metallic eyes found mine. "I like your age spots. I even like your RBF."

His arched brows furrowed, "RBF?"

I couldn't keep a straight face to save my life, "Your resting bitch face."

He gave a hard chuckle. "Oh I definitely have one of those." His lips found the bridge of my nose then the fat part of my cheek. I stole a kiss off his lips which he stole back. "If you can like the parts of me I hate, I can do the same, yes?"

I held his steel eyes. I kissed his sharp lips again. "Yes."

He kissed me back, thin lips soft against my mouth. "I was thinking of a way to lessen your anxiety when you show me your bare chest. Perhaps we could do it in a non-intimate way? What is something mundane you do naked?"

My lips hitched up in consideration, "A shower?"

His mouth found my cheekbone. "What about we shower together then at some point? Just focusing on cleaning ourselves. No pressure for sex or intimacy."

I rolled the thought of showering with the sexy taller man around in my head. I would definitely be hard. Ben was smoking hot. He would also be wet and naked. Unfortunately I would be too anxious about being naked in front of him to show him just how hot I thought he was. Maybe I wouldn't be too anxious. He had a point. We would just be showering. I could wash his hair for him. "That sounds nice actually. We could do it... now if you wanted."

His eyebrows rose as my eyes found the paisley swirls in my couch. He smiled and he kissed the corner of my mouth. I gave him a few chaste pecks. "It's getting late. The last ferry will be leaving soon."

I had a very sudden inexplainable need for him to stay with me. I didn't want to be alone. I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him tightly. "Will you stay the night?"

He returned my hold. "I hadn't planned on staying the night. I brought no clothes or toiletries."

"I have a spare toothbrush and a washer." I argued.

He teased me, kissing me lightly, "Imagine the wrinkles my pants will have if I don't iron them right away."

I looked at him in disbelief, "You actually iron your clothes?"

He chuckled, "Dear god no. That's what I have dry cleaning for."

Ben gave me his answer to my plea to stay over when he led me to the bathroom. He held my hand as we entered the baby blue painted room together. I had seashells on the shower curtain and hand towels. With my anxiety pinging high, I quickly remarked, "I have to get you a towel and a toothbrush." I rifled through my hall closet, finding a spare toothbrush from the dentist and a clean towel. I heard him turn on the water, making my heart race again. I futzed with the fan once I got in the bathroom. He folded his glasses and set them on the counter. He pulled off his sweater and folded it onto the counter too. Shit. Shit. This is the part where I'm supposed to undress too. He pried off his khakis and set them atop the sweater. He stood there staring at me in tight black boxers and a plain white t-shirt, looking like a real life Brad Pitt in my bathroom. It should be illegal to be this hot.

His voice was soft and coaxing, "Take your time lover. There's no pressure."

My heart pounded, even with his kind words. I scooped a hand through my hair. I tried to focus on something else while I pulled off my glasses. "Will you read to me?"

His eyebrow rose curiously. "Read to you?"

I tittered away nervously as I pulled my pants down. "I record lessons for calligraphy and hate my voice."

He pulled off his shirt, exposing his ribs and stomach to me. The peppered hair on his chest and navel immediately drew my attention. "I despise my recorded voice as well. I believe only radio hosts can stand the sound of their voice in playback."

My chest tightened as I revealed my white binder beneath. "How can you hate your voice? It's incredibly sexy. Like a younger Clint Eastwood."

"He did drink whiskey. I'm not sure if he smoked though." Ben kept the conversation going for my sake, I was sure. "I also sound like a mouse in playback."

I snorted as I pulled off my boxers, revealing my muff. "If you sound like a mouse, I sound like a squeaky violin."

He copied me, pulling off his boxers. His dick was soft below his grey pubes. "Do you listen to audiobooks?"

Only my binder was left. I remarked, "Not really. I do listen to some podcasts. Mostly about queer news and art stuff." I couldn't ask him to turn around. I had to just do it. Take the binder off. Take the binder *off*. I took a steeling breath.

Ben asked another question, distracting me, "What would you like me to read to you Tristan?"

I slowly shuffled out of the binder. I stood there, naked before him. The first time I was naked in front of anyone since living male full time. It took every ounce of willpower to stop myself from covering my chest with my arms. I shook as my anxiety threatened to overtake me. I stared at the chips in the paint above the mirror, unable to answer Ben's question.

Ben had the decency to not gape at my chest. He casually mentioned, "We shouldn't let the water run," as though I wasn't about to have an anxiety attack in the bathroom. "Would you like to go first?"

I shook my head and managed to get into the shower. I took a few full breaths under the warm water. Ben entered after me, my back to him. He did unabashedly gape at my ass, making me blush. He managed to resist touching it, focusing on the collection of soaps in my shower. He picked up a bottle and I squeaked out, "The hemp seed in that makes it strong smelling. I imagine you'd like the charcoal one more."

I made the water a tad warmer, keeping my arms over my stomach. Ben stepped under the water with me. I was right about being too anxious to be horny. I felt the heat in my face and neck as I watched him under the water spray. The water ran down his fine body in rivulets. The water soaked his hair, the tuft on his chest and above his dick. Fuck he was hot. His wet hand grazed my cheek as he looked at me with admiration. He stepped back and began soaping himself unceremoniously with the charcoal soap. I followed after him, lathering myself down too.

I randomly asked him, "Do you brush your teeth during the shower or after?"

He looked back at me, scrubbing his calves. "During. I wake up as late as possible in the morning. I even have an automatic coffee pot."

"Yeah, me too. The ferry runs so early." I paused, watching him work soap up his legs. "I can do your back if you'd like."

He gave me a soft smile. "I'd like that very much."

We took turns soaping each other's back and washing each other's hair. My anxiety lessened as the shower went on. Ben never brought attention to my chest, not once. He kissed my nose as we toweled off, sliding his boxers back on after. I didn't put my binder back on, just my boxers and shirt. I felt vulnerable with my binder off but I couldn't sleep with it on. He quipped at me as he hung the towel, "You never told me what you would like me to read to you, Tristan."

We pored over my book collection and landed on historical piece set in early America. Ben had to step out to smoke before laying down. He settled on my bed, turning on the lamp and setting up pillows to sit in bed. He summoned me over, bidding me to lay on his chest. He read that book to me, letting me hear his deep voice through his chest. His heartbeat thumped under his words. The pair of noises lulled me to sleep with ease, the easiest it had been all week.