Trent was excessively used to waking up in unusual beds. He moved around so much (and slept around so much) he was familiar with that lurch of disorientation. Ordinarily, it took him no time at all to get his head together and figure out what he had to do. Was he due somewhere for work? What time zone was he in? Did he want to wake the girl or let her sleep? Was he looking to leave as soon as he could or hang around? Did he even remember her name?

He remembered Ashby’s name.

Sex was definitely not the problem here. Another night with Ashby had convinced Trent he had no hang-ups whatsoever about being with this gorgeous person. Just because he hadn’t felt like putting another cock in his mouth before didn’t stop him from wanting Ashby’s. Like how girls had different pussies and breasts, probably. Just because they came in different shapes and sizes didn’t make them any less desirable.

Something about Ashby had unlocked a corner of Trent’s desire he hadn’t been aware existed before. He realized how glad he was for that as he stroked back his sleeping lover’s blond hair.

Ashby hummed and squirmed a little against Trent. The sun was up and the morning light was spilling through the windows where they hadn’t pulled the curtains. Ashby blinked his pretty teal eyes and looked around before settling them on Trent.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Trent said.

Ashby’s face split into a warm smile. “Hi,” he said softly.

Guilt and worry threatened to creep around Trent’s heart. But he took a slow breath and concentrated on not panicking. Everything was fine between them. Although he did feel the need to apologize again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, chewing on his lip.

Ashby frowned. “For what?”

“Messing you around,” Trent said. He shrugged and moved more onto his side so he could see Ashby properly. He was trailing his fingers over the back of Ashby’s arm lying between them.

Ashby tutted. “Stop apologizing,” he said briskly. “I get you freaked out. It’s a lot to take on.”

It was Trent’s turn to frown. “It shouldn’t be, though,” he said. “It’s the twenty-first century. I like you, big deal. I shouldn’t have noped out on you like I did.”

Ashby moved his hand and linked it with Trent’s, stopping him from moving around. Ashby kissed the fingers through his own, then held Trent’s hand up to his heart. “You’re reassessing a big part of your identity,” he said seriously. “I’m not going to tell you it didn’t hurt, that I wasn’t worried. But I understand.”

“You do?” Trent asked dubiously.

“It’s the commitment thing, right?”

Trent frowned. He had said something about that last night, hadn’t he? But Ashby lifted both their hands so he could touch a finger above Trent’s heart.

“Mr. Bulletproof,” he said, lowering their hands back down.

Trent raised his eyebrows. “You spotted that, huh?” he said, looking down at the tattoo. He’d never allowed himself to think much about why he’d got that specific ink, other than it had felt right.

“Don’t worry,” Ashby said with a little laugh. “I’m not asking you to marry me.”

The words didn’t send the usual jolt of panic down Trent’s insides. But it also wasn’t really what had been bothering him, although that was what he’d said last night. Fuck, his thoughts were such a mess.

“I want to try and commit to this,” he said honestly, refusing to allow his mind to wander off into the infinite ‘what ifs’ that might conjure up for the future. “We can take it slow, day by day.”

“So…it’s the queer thing?” Ashby said.

“Kind of,” Trent said. “I wish I could keep it simple. But it’s not.”

Ashby bit his lip. “If you were freaked out by cocks, I think that might have come up last night.”

Trent grinned and made himself be mature and not quip about other things coming instead. “I was just thinking that,” he agreed. “But…” He sighed. This was the thorny part he’d been coming to the conclusion about, gradually. But he didn’t know how to phase it. “It’s only…your cock. I’ve not been attracted to another guy like this before.”

Ashby snuggled up closer to him. “It doesn’t bother me if you don’t want to put a name to how you’re feeling,” he said. “I mean about…not being as straight as you thought you were. I’m happy being the ‘special’ one who turned your head.” He fluttered his lashes. “But did you want to talk about some of the available words out there? It might help.”

Trent rubbed his thumb against the back of Ashby’s hand. “The guys have talked to me enough about their labels,” he said. “Gay, bi, pan, demi. I get all those the way they describe it for them. But…I don’t know.” He bit his lip, unsure if he should say what was floating about in his brain.

“Yes, you do,” said Ashby. He had a slight devilment to his tone. “I mean, I think you really do know. Say it however best you can. I’m pretty hard to shock.”

Trent wasn’t convinced. “I’m worried what I want to say is going to come across as offensive. But I don’t mean it like that, at all.”

Ashby considered him seriously for a second. “Well,” he said. “If I’m offended, we can talk through why. I’m a grownup, I promise. Despite evidence to the contrary.”

The small joke helped to ease Trent’s anxieties a little. “Okay,” he said after a few moments. “I guess…I guess I feel like I’m attracted to you because you’re…well, you’re not, um…”

“Very masculine?” Ashby suggested. His tone was bright and he didn’t sound pissed off at all.

“Um, yeah,” said Trent. “Is that okay?”

Ashby’s smile was a huge relief. “Of course it is,” he said kindly. “I’m not very masculine. I like being effeminate.” He chewed his lip. “If we’re being honest and talking about labels, I could explain that a bit more. If you like?”

“Sure,” said Trent. “Go ahead, shoot.” The idea that he wasn’t the only complicated one made him feel a bit better.

Ashby seemed to think about his words for a moment. “So, you know how you’re not quite straight? Well…I’m not quite a man.”

Trent couldn’t help but flick his gaze down to where Ashby’s cock was under the covers and think about how he’d sucked it twice now.

Ashby poked his chest. “Biologically, yes. I’m a guy. And I’m fine with male pronouns and all that. But sometimes, not all the time, I don’t feel like I’m either. Male or female.”

Trent was very keen on not fucking up and using the wrong words now. He chewed his tongue for a second. “Is that, um, trans?”

Ashby smiled at him. Relief swirled inside Trent. He so wanted to understand Ashby and have him look at him with pride like that as much as he could.

“Yes,” Ashby said, becoming more animated. “It comes under the umbrella of trans. I’m nonbinary. You might have heard the term androgynous, but I like nonbinary. Or, more accurately, there are times when I’m happy to feel and present more male. Then there are times, when I feel comfortable and safe, that I love blurring the lines between genders.” He let go of Trent and waved his hand about before linking their fingers again. “I won’t get on my soapbox, I promise. But what I’m trying to explain is that I don’t feel like gender is any more binary than sexuality. Like…you know you’re definitely a man, but you’re now attracted to me. I assume?”

Trent laughed and kissed him. “Yes, I’m definitely attracted to you.”

“Right, good, that’s nice,” Ashby said, bouncing a little on the bed. “So, I know I’m always attracted to men. But sometimes I love things that are seen as being for women. Like wearing lacy blouses or heels or painting my nails.”

“Or makeup?” Trent asked, remembering the wedding.

Ashby nodded. “Yes. So, I don’t feel I’m a woman trapped in a man’s body, like a trans woman. And I’m not performing as a woman, like a drag queen. I just see gender as this blurry thing that I’d rather not be tied down to.”

Trent frowned. He wasn’t sure he entirely got it, but he didn’t necessarily have to. As long as Ashby was comfortable in his own skin, he liked Ashby just the way he was. He liked him a lot.

“So,” he said. “It’s okay that I like you because you’re not entirely male?” He winced. “I’m sorry, that sounds like an insult.”

Ashby shook his head. “No, it’s not. I think it’s very accurate and, well, no one’s ever said that to me so directly before. It’s oddly validating.”

“Really?” Trent felt that burst of pride again. Ashby nodded. “So, you’re saying the parts of us that aren’t quite a man and aren’t straight have…overlapped?”

Ashby’s eyebrows rose. “Ooh, I like that,” he said nodding. “Like those circle graphs that overlap to show, um, science stuff.” He let go of Trent and wriggled his other arm free so he could make two circles with his fingers and created a figure eight with a tiny overlapping area in the middle. “A Venn diagram!”

Trent touched the space in the center. “We’re the Venn diagram,” he murmured.

Ashby nodded, clearly pleased. “Does that help?” he asked with genuine concern. He dropped his hands and rubbed Trent’s thigh. “I quite like the sound of that, myself.”

Trent let out a breath. “I think so,” he said. “It’s…quite a bit to think about. But there’s probably more answers than questions floating around in my head now.” He raised an eyebrow and hugged Ashby to him. “You don’t feel like…I don’t know. Don’t you want to be with a proper gay guy?”

Ashby pondered his words for a moment. “You know,” he said. “I always go for these hyper masculine alpha dudes. And…I think they’re the type that kind of wish they were straight. But guys like me are the closest they can get to a girlfriend. So…they end up resenting me?” He shrugged. “It’s just a theory, one I’ve only just now considered. But maybe what I needed was a straight dude who likes the girly side of me as well as my cock.”

Trent arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have a lot of experience,” he said, lifting the covers and peering down, “but it is a pretty great cock.”

Ashby’s peels of laugher echoed around the beige hotel room, filling it with life. “Why thank you,” he said, pretending to swish his hair back.

Trent considered him. It didn’t seem unusual to him that Ashby ‘blended gender styles’ like he said. It seemed natural. Some guys wore makeup and it looked uncomfortable. Hell, Trent wore makeup on set all day and the stuff still got in his eyes and bothered him. But Ashby just made it seem effortless.

“What?” Ashby asked. Before Trent could answer, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of Trent’s nose, making him laugh. Ashby seemed so much happier. It made Trent’s chest burst with joy.

“Did you know my mom was Arapaho?” Trent said. At Ashby’s blank face, he remembered he was English and might not know the term. “Native American,” Trent supplied. Sure enough, Ashby made an ‘ohh’ sound and nodded. “We didn’t always talk much about it. But she said something cool once that I committed to memory for Joey.” Trent frowned and racked his brains for the right pronunciation. “Her people had – or have – a third gender. They call them haxu’xan. They’re guys who live as women and they marry guys and are respected by the tribe.”

Ashby blinked at him. “Seriously?” he said. Trent couldn’t blame him. He knew how much queer people had been persecuted throughout history. Especially trans people.

“I know it’s not exactly like you,” Trent said. “But it’s kind of cool, I think.”

Ashby nodded. “Very,” he said shyly. “Thank you.”

Trent looked around at all the clothes still scattered around the room from where Ashby had obviously emptied out his closet. Fuck, Trent was so glad he caught him before he made any serious plans to leave. It got him thinking though.

“Did you bring any of your more nonbinary-”

“Enby,” Ashby said. Trent frowned. “You know,” Ashby explained, “like as in the letters N-B.”

“Enby,” said Trent, nodding. “It’s cute.”

Ashby gasped in delight. “I know, right?”

Trent chuckled. “Okay, so. Did you bring any of your enby clothes with you?”

Ashby blinked and looked around the carnage. “Well, um, yes,” he said. “It’s just, well…I don’t tend to wear them places I don’t know. Especially if I’m by myself.”

He tried to keep his voice light, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Trent could only imagine the hurt he’d experienced while looking different. Even violence. Trent would never let anybody touch Ashby while they were together. He knew that for certain.

He was feeling so freed after their talk, though. Like an enormous burden had been lifted. Or better, like he’d had a box full of puzzle pieces and now they had all slotted together the way they were meant to.

He smiled at Ashby and ran his hand up and down his arm. He could feel his desire flickering to life again. “Would you, uh, put something on for me?” he asked. “Something you feel pretty in?”

Ashby looked at him for a moment, his expression slowly turning into complete joy. “Um, okay,” he said, nodding as he slipped out of the bed. “Are you sure?”

Trent grinned. “Absolutely,” he said.

Ashby licked his lips, considering everything that was thrown about the room. Carefully, he began to pick up items one by one, seemingly unaffected that Trent was watching him walk about naked.

“I’ll be right back,” he said once he had everything he apparently wanted, then dashed into the bathroom.

Trent laid back in the bed and touched his fingers to the ‘Bulletproof’ insignia over his heart. Had he really been that hellbent on keeping people away from him? Not the boys from the band. He’d always had love for them. But Trent tried to think of a time he had ever let another friend get particularly close to him, let alone a girlfriend. He’d always kept everyone at arm’s length.

Even his own parents. It had felt good to talk about his mom. He hadn’t told Ashby the whole truth, how she wasn’t here anymore. But they could get to that.

Trent felt he could talk to Ashby about anything. That he would be patient and help Trent find the words. Together, they could tackle anything.

A knock at the door made him jump. “Housekeeping!”

“Come back later,” Trent called back. The door was in direct line of sight of the bed.

The voice cackled through the wood. “Oh, nice try with that accent, Ashby.”

Before Trent could think of what to say, the door swung open to reveal one of the women from the housekeeping staff, judging by her uniform. She was middle-aged with curly brown hair and colorful horn-rimmed glasses. Or so Trent saw before he gasped and yanked the covers over his head.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” the woman cried in delight. “Ashby Wilcott, you get out here this instant!”

“Maeve!” Ashby shrieked. Trent peeked out from under the covers to his left, just enough to see a dressed Ashby burst out of the bathroom. “What are you doing? Go on, shoo!”

Maeve, the housekeeper, cackled some more. “Oh, sweetie, don’t you look pretty? Okay, all right, I’m going. Bye TJ!” she cooed. Trent heard the door close.

After a few seconds, Trent dared to look above the covers. Ashby had his hands in his hair, staring in mortification at the closed door. “She seemed friendly,” Trent commented. There was no sense getting upset. He wasn’t going to be ashamed about Ashby, so why not come out of the closet right now?

Ashby turned to him. Trent felt the humor drop from his face as he took in Ashby’s outfit.

It was simple. The same stonewashed skinny jeans he’d been wearing yesterday, but now matched with a pair of black boots with a small heel that disappeared under the denim. The top was a Chinese-looking black tunic, silky, with a gold and jade pattern of hummingbirds and flowers embroidered on it.

The ensemble was elegant, though neither wholly feminine nor masculine. Even without makeup and last night’s bed hair, Ashby looked totally stunning.

“Fuck me,” Trent murmured in surprise.

It looked like Ashby took a moment to register the lust in Trent’s eyes. He spun and smiled. “I’d rather you fucked me,” he said with a wink.

Trent crooked his finger, beckoning Ashby to him.

“That can be arranged, gorgeous,” he said.