Chapter Text
Gregory Edgeworth wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination. He knew that he was ‘being taken advantage of’ and that his partner had no intention of making good on any of his promises.
That was, shockingly, fine by him. The one being taken advantage of wasn’t Gregory, after all. Manfred just didn’t know that yet. And, really, he didn’t have to know. Let him keep thinking he had the upper hand. Gregory was certain it wouldn’t matter this time tomorrow.
At first, it hurt. It hurt terribly. He almost told Manfred to stop, but he got the feeling it would be pointless. Manfred wasn’t the type to be denied something he wanted, and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d taken Gregory under his wing that he wanted… her.
A shudder ran through him; whether it was from an interesting sensation radiating from between his thighs, or the thought of thinking of himself as her, he didn’t know, and frankly, at this point, he didn’t care much. He’d been under the impression that it hurt for women no matter what and nothing could be done to make it feel good.
Manfred might be using him, but damn, he was glad to let him use him if it made him feel like this. He almost regretted that this was the end of the game.
Sensations rose and fell in his body; he couldn’t help but vocalize, his own voice ringing oddly in his ears. Manfred did so as well, although quieter, grunting and gasping more than groaning with the intensity. Every time he heard Manfred’s voice, though, it sent another shock through him. He was doing this to this granite man of stoicism.
The power play between them suddenly felt equalized. It was illusionary, he knew; if he protested their activities, he relied on Manfred to respect it, and suddenly all of the power was back in the other man’s hands.
Gregory’s pleasure soured at the thought.
But it didn’t sour altogether, not in the least. There was still enough there to draw him to a peak, and then seem to slam him back down. His body shook as a hoarse cry ripped out of him, and Manfred slammed into him harder, the shout of ecstasy turning to one of pain. Gregory gritted his teeth. Now that he’d climaxed, he knew that Manfred wasn’t going to stop. Not until he had, too.
He’d be alright. The rush of endorphins from his orgasm meant that his partner’s sudden roughness didn’t hurt too much.
And then, with a handful of jerky, forceful thrusts, Manfred was done, it was over, and Gregory sighed a little sigh of relief. That had been an interesting experience, at least, and satisfying for what it was; but he was grateful that he had saved enough money to pay for both bottom and top surgery and he didn’t think that he’d ever agree to vaginal intercourse again. He’d wanted to see how it felt, and he did. Worth it once, but no more than that. He could close the door on his “female” existence with a clean bucket list now.
He was openly pensive as Manfred uncoupled from him, sitting over the side of the bed to wipe himself clean. Gregory paused in his rumination to look over at his mentor and lover when his motions abruptly stopped, but he didn’t look up from his lap. “Manfred?”
“You’re bleeding.”
Without missing a beat, Gregory dipped a finger inside of himself, grimacing at the slimy sensation of his bodily fluids mixed with Manfred’s semen. The condom he’d demanded had been rejected and Gregory let him in anyway; he’d started testosterone already, after all. It’d take a while for the physical effects to show, but he was pretty sure he was “safe.”
He could see blood on his fingertips when he held them up in the candlelight. He was neither surprised nor alarmed – well, he was surprised. He was surprised that Manfred seemed to be. “Well, I was a virgin…”
“Indeed?” Amusement replaced surprise as he stood and turned to face Gregory as he lay on the bed. “I was unaware. It is… even more of an honor, then.”
Gregory didn’t miss the mocking note in Manfred’s voice. “I’m sure it is,” he replied dryly.
“You better get cleaned up, Alice. I’ve been told that sleeping in one’s own fluids is… uncomfortable.”
As he spoke, Manfred tossed what he used to clean himself up with onto the bed and swaggered into the bathroom. Gregory snarled at his retreating back, snapping the piece of cloth up, and nearly got up and got dressed when he saw that it was his own blouse. Asshole. What had he seen in Manfred to begin with?
But he’d have to walk back to his dorm room if he left the hotel, didn’t have the money for a room of his own, and really, really didn’t want to sleep in the wet spot. He gingerly sat up and retrieved a different article of clothing, wiping between his legs with it without looking at what it was. All he knew was that it wasn’t his skirt so he didn’t care what it was.
Manfred emerged from the bathroom seconds later, and the two conversed about the possibility of post-coital room service. Was “she” hungry? No, not really, was he? Yes, but more tired than hungry. He’d rather sleep if she didn’t want anything.
Gregory really couldn’t stomach the thought of food, so he just said that he felt sweaty and wanted a shower before they slept. Usually one who kept immaculate personal hygiene, this was a thought that hadn’t crossed Manfred’s mind, and Gregory could see the gears turning in Manfred’s head as he pondered Gregory’s plans. He held his breath; he didn’t really want to share a shower with him, although Gregory wasn’t sure at all whether he hated Manfred for managing to seduce him just enough to break his heart, or he hated himself for doing this anyway.
And then Manfred shrugged, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “You wore me out. No, the shower will still be there in the morning. I’m not going to wait up for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking. Good night, Manfred.”
“Good night, Alice. You were… the best so far, I dare say.”
Another hint that he was playing with him, eh? Wouldn’t he just be surprised as shit when it was Gregory who stopped calling, not the other way around. He held his peace until he got into the bathroom, the door locked, and the shower started. The urge to cry was nearly overpowering, and Gregory gulped it back until it had subsided. He loathed that he could cry so easily and heard from other men who had undergone transition that the testosterone would take care of that in relatively short order.
He focused then on washing up. He’d wanted to tell Manfred that he felt sweaty and gross, but – damn himself – he still cared for Manfred and whatever feelings Manfred was capable of, even if he didn’t want to, and saying that he felt gross after having sex with the older man would’ve been… less than kind. Whether or not Manfred would’ve taken offense at all was another story altogether, but the soft, sore spot he left in Gregory’s soul wouldn’t give him the chance to test it.
Once he’d thoroughly washed himself, he lollygagged in the bathroom for much longer, quietly toweling his dark brown hair dry as well as he could. The blow-dryer was likely to wake his slumbering lover.
By the time that was done, the urge to cry had long passed and a sense of peace had settled over Gregory. He’d go out to that room, climb into bed, and go to sleep. In a week, they’d likely meet again, as they did, to study, and then Gregory could tell him that unless Manfred was attracted to men, a relationship – if he was looking for one – wouldn’t work, but he still wanted his mentor’s friendship.
Nothing in that night had changed anything. He didn’t feel “like a woman,” as his brother had asserted he would, if he allowed someone to “love him like a woman.” Gregory made a mental note to tell Miles off for that shit, and then erased the note and replaced it with one to tell Miles that his advice had been bad and for god’s sake, phrases like “love you like a woman” was probably why he couldn’t get any dates.
But he couldn’t say that he regretted tonight. Not in the slightest. It was just another nail in the coffin of his old life. It was the last one, in fact. It was time to bury Alice Edgeworth. She wasn’t just dead; she’d never existed to begin with. He was ready to be himself now.
And, really, that’s all that Miles had wanted for him. The changes that he was about to pursue with all of his being – well, almost, as there had to be something left over for pursuing his law degree – were, for all intents and purposes, permanent. There was no going back once he passed a certain line, and now he knew he was fine with it.
But seriously, he thought to himself as he grinned wryly at his reflection in the mirror, that was the last time he asked his brother for advice on anything more important than pizza toppings.
Satisfied with how his night had gone, Gregory quietly crept out of the bathroom and into the bed. It was a king size, and he took care not to touch his slumbering one-night-stand. He didn’t want to invite more intimacy, or risk waking and offending the bigger man. Guilt shimmered through him, and by the time it had run its course through his blood, he was alright again. The only difference between what he had done and what Manfred thought he himself was going to do, was the fact that Gregory actually cared how much he hurt his lover and mentor. He’d done nothing he needed to feel guilty for. So Manfred was going to be surprised in the morning. So what?
His conscience clear on all fronts, Gregory sank into deep, peaceful sleep.