ret-con, take 3
Take Three:
By the time he's allowed to look at a mirror, he only gives it a passing glance. Just looks at it enough to determine that, yes, that really is him. And yes, that's the man he always wished to be, the man inside that didn't have the opportunity to see the light of day. He notices enough to keep himself clean-shaven and fresh, as low maintenance a male as he was when he was female. He thinks that maybe they really have perfected Trans Action, and being forced to go without a mirror was the settling in period for him that he needed.
He spends nearly six weeks in therapy, in becoming a man. During that time, he flirts ever stronger with whoever visits, no matter their sex. Several men laugh it off, though the occasional nurse would stand by him, chatting with a smile on his face while Jordan hones his skill. The girls are easier, blushing with little more than a smile. Jordan can't say which feeling he prefers. Because it's not long before it's apparent that his attraction is based on things other than looks.
[Note for file: When reviewing the pre-op questionnaire, the following answer was truly reflective of the feelings of the patient and was not just a boilerplate--
"I don't know which sex I like. I can appreciate the aesthetic beauty of any person. I'm not particular either way, in that respect. If we can talk, share something on an intellectual level... debate something, then they're more appealing to me. Looks tend to fade eventually. Why would you be with someone you can't talk to, if all they are is pretty now?"]
He spends a lot of time in the gym facilities once he's deemed healthy enough. He runs--which is more than he'd ever done before-- for long stretches of time, just sinking himself farther into his skin. While he runs, his mind wanders. It feels exhilarating to let himself think on the things he'd never before considered.
It's that rush of endorphins when he thinks about the way he is now that pushes him to continue running on the treadmill, staying happy with himself.
He doesn't expect to hear applause when he's walking out of the bathroom, still damp from his shower. It's a little disconcerting and he isn't really sure how to protect himself from this newcomer's blatant perusal. "I should have a cheesy pick up line at the ready," a masculine voice says, "but it just would not do you any justice."
Jordan blushes and pulls on his glasses, letting the leaning figure at the door come into focus, even as he sets his towel a little tighter around him. "Are you sure about that?"
The man stands and strolls confidently into the room, his clothing throwing Jordan's near-nudity into stark relief. With a chuckle, he gestures vaguely down the length of Jordan's body. "I could say 'you must drink a lot of milk, cause it's done your body good,' if it'll make you feel better." Jordan even has to laugh at that, and he can see the light-heartedness in the other's eyes.
A long moment passes where the new man's gaze turns intense before he sticks out his hand. "I'm Paul, you companion du jour. The powers that be said that you were unsure as to your sexuality, but had a type. Which, of course, I found entirely intriguing and I volunteered to help you experiment."
Jordan raises an eyebrow. "How do you know if you even fit my type, volunteer?" he asks, warm palm sliding into a firm handshake. He notices, absently, the smoothness of Paul's skin, the restrained power that's well-hidden beneath those clothes. The shiver that trips down his spine has everything to do with Paul, and little to do with the chill in the apartment.
Paul's smile is saucy. "I don't, which is half the fun. But I figured it was worth a shot to meet you." He sidles up close, body imposing without frightening his companion. "What they told me has absolutely nothing on what I see before me." They're nearly pressed together, and Jordan finds his head tilting back vulnerably so he can continue to meet his partner's eyes. It's a heady rush, to say the least.
"I'm flattered," Jordan smiles, "but you have to admit this conversation is a little awkward, what with the," he gestures vaguely between them, "differences in proper conversation wear. I'm at a little disadvantage here, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't call it a disadvantage. But, that, sweetheart, is easily rectified." Paul strips quickly out of his shirt before Jordan can give him any excuses. His fingers toy with the button at his waistband, giving Jordan the option of how far this teasing will actually go.
Jordan spends a long moment surveying the goods before saluting Paul cheerily. "Welcome to the ranks, volunteer. You're sure to do well." The sound of his partner's surprised laugh is music to his ears. Caught between flirtatious and shy, but not one to waste this opportunity, he boldly stretches out and rests his fingers on Paul's, releasing the button to his slacks.
Paul gratifies him with a choked off laugh, a queerly sharp concern interlaced with open lust in the way his eyes pass over Jordan's slighter frame. It's nothing at all to let his towel drop, to pull Paul out of the rest of his clothes and into the bedroom.
Their first time, his first time, is predictably bad--painful and messy and rushed, no matter how good it got in the end. Paul is experienced, sure. But Jordan still hasn't quite figured out the mechanics of his body. He tenses when he should relax. He couldn't figure out where to put his limbs and Paul looks laughable the morning after with a black eye and scratches down his back that scab over. And it hurt. Jordan feels it in every movement he makes.
Paul doesn't seem to mind it much. He keeps telling Jordan so over breakfast, smirking at his blush and running his fingertips lightly over the scratches on his shoulders. Jordan didn't realize he could stay embarrassed while still wanting to jump the man.
"We'll get better," Paul assures him, relenting from his teasing with a light kiss to Jordan's lips. "And when you do, you'll be such a heartbreaker. You've already ruined me for other men."
"Watch yourself, volunteer. Flattery gets you everywhere," he jokes back, happy to see the smile on his new lover's face doesn't drop.
"I wonder if it'll get me where I want to be," Paul murmurs, sliding his lips over to kiss at Jordan's mouth.
By the time he's allowed to look at a mirror, he only gives it a passing glance. Just looks at it enough to determine that, yes, that really is him. And yes, that's the man he always wished to be, the man inside that didn't have the opportunity to see the light of day. He notices enough to keep himself clean-shaven and fresh, as low maintenance a male as he was when he was female. He thinks that maybe they really have perfected Trans Action, and being forced to go without a mirror was the settling in period for him that he needed.
He spends nearly six weeks in therapy, in becoming a man. During that time, he flirts ever stronger with whoever visits, no matter their sex. Several men laugh it off, though the occasional nurse would stand by him, chatting with a smile on his face while Jordan hones his skill. The girls are easier, blushing with little more than a smile. Jordan can't say which feeling he prefers. Because it's not long before it's apparent that his attraction is based on things other than looks.
[Note for file: When reviewing the pre-op questionnaire, the following answer was truly reflective of the feelings of the patient and was not just a boilerplate--
"I don't know which sex I like. I can appreciate the aesthetic beauty of any person. I'm not particular either way, in that respect. If we can talk, share something on an intellectual level... debate something, then they're more appealing to me. Looks tend to fade eventually. Why would you be with someone you can't talk to, if all they are is pretty now?"]
He spends a lot of time in the gym facilities once he's deemed healthy enough. He runs--which is more than he'd ever done before-- for long stretches of time, just sinking himself farther into his skin. While he runs, his mind wanders. It feels exhilarating to let himself think on the things he'd never before considered.
It's that rush of endorphins when he thinks about the way he is now that pushes him to continue running on the treadmill, staying happy with himself.
He doesn't expect to hear applause when he's walking out of the bathroom, still damp from his shower. It's a little disconcerting and he isn't really sure how to protect himself from this newcomer's blatant perusal. "I should have a cheesy pick up line at the ready," a masculine voice says, "but it just would not do you any justice."
Jordan blushes and pulls on his glasses, letting the leaning figure at the door come into focus, even as he sets his towel a little tighter around him. "Are you sure about that?"
The man stands and strolls confidently into the room, his clothing throwing Jordan's near-nudity into stark relief. With a chuckle, he gestures vaguely down the length of Jordan's body. "I could say 'you must drink a lot of milk, cause it's done your body good,' if it'll make you feel better." Jordan even has to laugh at that, and he can see the light-heartedness in the other's eyes.
A long moment passes where the new man's gaze turns intense before he sticks out his hand. "I'm Paul, you companion du jour. The powers that be said that you were unsure as to your sexuality, but had a type. Which, of course, I found entirely intriguing and I volunteered to help you experiment."
Jordan raises an eyebrow. "How do you know if you even fit my type, volunteer?" he asks, warm palm sliding into a firm handshake. He notices, absently, the smoothness of Paul's skin, the restrained power that's well-hidden beneath those clothes. The shiver that trips down his spine has everything to do with Paul, and little to do with the chill in the apartment.
Paul's smile is saucy. "I don't, which is half the fun. But I figured it was worth a shot to meet you." He sidles up close, body imposing without frightening his companion. "What they told me has absolutely nothing on what I see before me." They're nearly pressed together, and Jordan finds his head tilting back vulnerably so he can continue to meet his partner's eyes. It's a heady rush, to say the least.
"I'm flattered," Jordan smiles, "but you have to admit this conversation is a little awkward, what with the," he gestures vaguely between them, "differences in proper conversation wear. I'm at a little disadvantage here, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't call it a disadvantage. But, that, sweetheart, is easily rectified." Paul strips quickly out of his shirt before Jordan can give him any excuses. His fingers toy with the button at his waistband, giving Jordan the option of how far this teasing will actually go.
Jordan spends a long moment surveying the goods before saluting Paul cheerily. "Welcome to the ranks, volunteer. You're sure to do well." The sound of his partner's surprised laugh is music to his ears. Caught between flirtatious and shy, but not one to waste this opportunity, he boldly stretches out and rests his fingers on Paul's, releasing the button to his slacks.
Paul gratifies him with a choked off laugh, a queerly sharp concern interlaced with open lust in the way his eyes pass over Jordan's slighter frame. It's nothing at all to let his towel drop, to pull Paul out of the rest of his clothes and into the bedroom.
Their first time, his first time, is predictably bad--painful and messy and rushed, no matter how good it got in the end. Paul is experienced, sure. But Jordan still hasn't quite figured out the mechanics of his body. He tenses when he should relax. He couldn't figure out where to put his limbs and Paul looks laughable the morning after with a black eye and scratches down his back that scab over. And it hurt. Jordan feels it in every movement he makes.
Paul doesn't seem to mind it much. He keeps telling Jordan so over breakfast, smirking at his blush and running his fingertips lightly over the scratches on his shoulders. Jordan didn't realize he could stay embarrassed while still wanting to jump the man.
"We'll get better," Paul assures him, relenting from his teasing with a light kiss to Jordan's lips. "And when you do, you'll be such a heartbreaker. You've already ruined me for other men."
"Watch yourself, volunteer. Flattery gets you everywhere," he jokes back, happy to see the smile on his new lover's face doesn't drop.
"I wonder if it'll get me where I want to be," Paul murmurs, sliding his lips over to kiss at Jordan's mouth.