#trans!alex

An hour later, Henry sat at the kitchen island looking over the pictures the technician had printed out for them while Alex cut up an apple.

“How’re you feeling after the appointment?” he asked as Alex put the apple in a bowl and sat next to him.

“Okay. Early ultrasounds are still hard. Like, I’m really excited and it’s a relief to know they’re doing well, but…yeah…I’m gonna call my therapist and change my appointment to be sooner.” Alex fidgeted with one of the slices before taking a bite.

“Anything I can do in the meantime?” 

Alex shrugged, swatting Henry’s hand away when he tried to steal an apple slice. 

“Do you want me to put the pictures away for now?” Henry asked as he picked up the strip.

“No, lemme see frijolito.” Alex leaned over to look closer at the pictures.

“Frijolito?” 

Alex gave him an exasperated look. “You know enough Spanish to figure that one out. And you called them a little bean first.”

“I do and I did. I’m just processing you nicknaming our child that.”

“You have any better ideas?” He looked at Henry expectantly.

“I suppose not.”

“Thought so.” Alex grinned, holding out an apple slice and laughing when Henry just leaned forward to bite it.

Alex chuckles at his friends’ enthusiasm. You’d think it was them heading for their first dance class in over a decade, not him. He sends back a heart emoji, then heads for the front door. He can do this. It’s not a big deal. This isn’t going to be like when he was a kid.

He’s hit with the usual wave of artificially cooled air as he enters the lobby. The mid-September breeze outside isn’t as hot as it is in the summer, but it’s still a relief to get out of it. He glances around for a door marked Studio 4, which is where the intro email he received the week before said his class would be. But the only studio door he sees is marked Center Studio, and the halls go off in both directions.

“Know where you’re going?” a voice asks.

Alex turns to see a cheerful, dark-haired woman behind the receptionist's desk. He shrugs sheepishly. “Umm, I’m looking for Studio 4?” he offers.

“Oh, you’re in Willie’s adults class,” she says, nodding in understanding. “You’re gonna take a left here, then go most of the way down. It’ll be on your right.”

“Okay, thanks,” Alex responds, giving her a grateful smile.

“No problem, you’ll love Willie, he’s great,” she says.

Alex certainly hopes so. His last dance teacher was… not great. He turns down the hall the woman indicated and quickly reaches his studio. He takes another deep breath. Reminds himself that he wants to be here. That he likes dancing. That he can get the heck out of here and never come back if this goes poorly. It’s going to be fine. Hopefully even fun.

When he enters the room, he finds about what he’d expected. Honey-colored wooden flooring, light gray walls, one covered in mirrors, and a rough circle of folding chairs set up in the middle. Alex is early, but there’s a few people already in the room. A pair of older women are seated in the circle, along with a man in his early 30’s who keeps checking his phone. The only other person in the room is a guy with long, dark hair pulled back in a bun standing in the corner and fiddling with a large speaker.

Everyone else seems to have kept their stuff with them, so he sets his backpack on the floor. Alex hesitantly takes a seat and pulls out his phone. A few more messages have come in from his friends since he checked it outside.

Bobistro - Just breathe dude. You’re gonna do great.

Flynnagain - and we’ll burn the place down if they do anything stupid

Candy Queen - What the girlfriend said.

Bobistro - … Go have fun Alex. You love dancing. It’s gonna be fine.

Alex chuckles and flips over to his solitaire app to kill time while he waits for class to start. More people trickle in around him, filling most of the chairs. Once the large clock on the wall hits 4 o'clock, the guy who’d been working on the speaker joined the circle.

“Hey everybody, I’m Willie, and welcome to the studio,” he says, giving them a wide grin. “Since most of you are new to taking classes here, I figured we’d start with some introductions.” 

Alex resists the urge to groan, icebreakers are hard. He never knows what to say.

“I know, I know,” Willie continues, raising his hands in surrender, “fancy intros are overrated and everything. But I’d like to at least know people’s names and pronouns. And if you have any pets, I would also like to know about them.”

Okay, that doesn’t seem too bad. Alex could talk about his cat for hours.

“I’ll start,” Willie adds, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Hi, I’m Willie, my pronouns are he and they, and I have a very dramatic grey kitten named Glisandra.”

Alex feels a bit of the tension leave his shoulders as the next person starts talking. Willie is trans too. They’re open about it with their students. Alex isn’t really planning on mentioning that he wasn’t born a boy to anyone here, but it’s a relief to know that he won’t be totally alone if it does come up. And none of the other students seem weirded out by Willie using multiple sets of pronouns, so… 

He pushes down the memories of the last time he was in dance class, back in middle school. No need to remind himself of that.

“I’m Carol,” one of the older women who beat Alex here starts, pulling him back to the present. “My pronouns are… she/her?” She glances over at Willie who nods encouragingly. “Okay, good, I’m new to introducing myself that way,” she continues with a chuckle. “Oh, and I have a very old black lab named Finch.”

The woman beside Carol is Ruth, who uses she/her pronouns as well and doesn’t have any pets, though Carol protests that she might as well be a co-parent to Finch. Everyone laughs at that. Then there’s Sharon and Chris, a newly married couple who have two parakeets named Chico and Blue. After them is the middle-aged man Alex saw when he got here, Jason. He doesn’t have any pets, but does mention a 7-year-old daughter. Then is a guy in probably his mid-60s named Greg, who seems to have a whole collection of animals living on his property.

And then it’s Alex’s turn. “Hey, I’m Alex, I use he/him pronouns, and I have a grey and white cat named Cucumber.”

“Hey, another cat person!” Willie cheers, reaching over to offer Alex a fist bump. 

Alex is startled by the enthusiasm but returns the gesture. The woman on his other side(Mandy, she/her, no pets) starts talking but Alex remains focused on Willie. He’d been a bit busy freaking out before to really notice, but Willie is… really pretty. He’s still sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as they listen to their students. They aren’t really doing anything, but the light in his eyes and the easiness of his smile and the way a few strands of hair have escaped his bun to frame their face…

“I guess that makes me last,” chuckles the tiny woman beside Willie. “I’m Sandy, she/her, and I have a turtle named Dierdra.”

“Nice!” Willie exclaims, climbing easily to his feet. “Lovely to meet you all. Now let’s get to why we’re actually here.”

They go over some basic dance classroom etiquette and language, most of which Alex recognizes from his old ballet classes. The dress code isn’t nearly as strict though. He wonders if that’s just because it’s an adult class, or if that’s a policy the studio uses for all their classes. Or maybe it’s just a Willie thing. Either way, Alex is glad that the only requirements are not to wear anything too tight or that you could trip over.

“Last thing, this class is for you guys,” Willie says. “So if there’s something you really want to learn, let me know and I’ll try to make it work. Alternatively, if you have any injuries or medical issues or anything that makes certain movements hard, come tell me. We can modify stuff as needed so that everyone can do things safely. Sound good?”

It takes a second for everyone to realize he asked a question, but they all nod. Willie’s face splits into that wide grin again. They have a really pretty smile.

“Sweet, let’s warm up then,” Willie declares. “I’m sure you’re all sick of sitting here listening to me.”

That gets a chuckle out of Alex and some of his new classmates as they get up and move their chairs and bags to the edge of the room. Willie has them line up and turns on the music for a warm-up. The movements aren’t too complex or fast, so Alex finds himself able to follow along just fine. Willie is probably going simple on purpose since they don’t know anyone’s skill levels. It feels great though, waking up some of the muscles that Alex hasn’t used in years.

After the warm-up, Willie guides them all over to one wall to go across the floor. It’s more fun than Alex is expecting, the upbeat music providing a steady rhythm to skip and jump to. Willie calls encouragement and corrections as they go across. He’s so positive and full of life, and it’s infectious. Alex can’t fully remember why he was so worried about this.

They move into learning a simple combination and Alex takes the opportunity to watch his classmates a bit. A few of them clearly used to dance, and Sandy is definitely pretty active, but most of the class doesn’t seem to have any previous experience, or at least nothing recent. Alex wonders where he would fit in that lineup to someone else. People would probably guess he knows nothing. He wasn’t the worst dancer when he was a kid, but that was years ago. And he hadn’t been taking classes as a boy then.

He shifts his focus to Willie as they break into groups and take turns running the combination. The guy can’t be more than 25, which seems a bit young for a teacher, but Willie is clearly in his element. In between groups, they’ll point out little things to focus on and highlight what the group did a good job on. They’re always the first to applaud when a group finishes, even if no one did that well.

Carol questions them about it after she mixes up some of the steps. “Why the clapping if we sucked?” she asks, chuckling as she reaches for her water.

“Cause you tried,” Willie responds immediately. “We all suck at stuff, that’s just life. That’s how we learn. But you got up there and tried, and that’s worthy of applause.”

It’s a practiced answer. Clearly it’s something Willie has put a lot of thought into. Alex thinks back to his old teachers, who would glare down at them for a single misstep and only granted ‘Good job’s after recitals. Willie’s way seems a lot better. Maybe Willie had teachers like his when they were younger and wanted to be different. Or maybe Willie has always had amazing and supportive instructors.

Alex realizes he wants to know which it is. He wants to know things about Willie, about their history and what he likes and dislikes and what makes them laugh. He wants to know where they think of as home and what their favorite movie is and what he likes to do outside of dancing. Huh.

(He also really wants to meet their kitten, Glisandra, but that’s no surprise. Alex loves meeting other people’s cats.)

Willie leads them through some light yoga and stretching at the end of class as a cool-down. Alex takes a deep breath as he leans into his lunge. His ribs don’t feel as tense as they usually do. His heart rate is higher than usual, but that’s because of the exercise, not his anxiety. His limbs don’t feel so heavy. He feels… good. Relaxed. 

Huh, that’s not a common one.

“Alright, great job,” Willie says, straightening and giving them all another wide grin. “I will see you all next week, and I’m free for a bit if anyone has questions or concerns. Thank you dancers.”

Alex returns their smile, then heads over to where he left his backpack. He takes a long drink of water and heads for the door.

“Great work today, Alex,” Willie calls as he passes.

“Thanks, you’re a great teacher,” Alex responds, turning and smiling at the instructor.

Willie bows dramatically. “I live to serve,” he says.

Alex laughs. “See you next week, Willie.”

“See ya!”

Alex heads out to his car, waving goodbye to the receptionist on his way out. Once he’s in his car, he checks his phone. There’s a whole bunch of messages from his friends asking about how his class was.

Alex - Class was great! Teacher is cool! Headed home. <3

Things like this don’t just…happen.

So, Alex is not sure what deity exactly he has to thank for this. Whose attention he caught to get this supernaturally lucky.

Stuck with desperately trying to remember how to breathe right, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Squeezes them and oh, yeah, he’s holding his own legs; right. Right.

Jensen says, “You okay?” in the pressing tone of someone who’s asked before but didn’t get an answer yet.

“Y-yeah? Yeah,” and Jensen kisses him, then, on the mouth. And if he were anyone but himself, if this wasn’t Jensen fucking Ackles going ass to mouth with him this carelessly, this would be the time for him to start throwing punches. At the very least.

As is, though, Alex catches himself groaning, catches himself sucking at Jensen’s wet nasty mouth and getting teary-eyed with the scratch of Jensen’s beard. With the sharp edges of Jensen’s teeth grazing his lips, casually nipping him like yeah no big deal, and if he’s not getting his dick out anytime soon, Alex is gonna cry for real.

Jensen laughs at his honest, “Fuck me,” dismissive and asshole-ish and Alex pulls at him in childish protest, childish impatience. Quiet, wet, “Please?” and Jensen licks deeper into his mouth for that one.

Tugs Alex closer to the edge of the table; is gonna ruin his fucking expensive jeans with the general mess going on between Alex’ legs and yeah yup Alex is gonna cry, he is.

Low, encouraging, “You want that?” and Alex nods, stupid, too-eager, and Jensen smiles, bright enough that Alex can see it despite their faces being so close.

It’s too quick then, or he’s too slow—because Jensen’s reached between them and there’s not even much of a sound of that zipper going down, but Alex feels him whipping it out and his mouth would drop if Jensen wasn’t so busy stuffing him with his tongue.

Finally gets a chance to mutter, “Oh god, oh god,” with Jensen slicking himself up, fucking raw, and he asks, “This okay?” and Alex sobs, “Uh-huh,” because he’s stupid and God, fuck, he wants it.

Jensen lines up and starts pushing into him with such practice and ease that Alex forgets about his bodily form altogether, chokes back all noise and hangs onto Jensen’s neck, his massive shoulders.

The late afternoon sun breaks through the slits of the blinds all orange and heated, and Jensen makes the softest, the most delicate sound from deep down his chest, and Alex notices that he’s got one of his legs hiked all the way over that bulging-with-power arm.

Another heartbreak-sound for Jensen bottoming out, and Alex can’t tell which one of them was the source of that.

“Jesus Christ,” and that’s Jensen.

Alex thinks Alex has an appropriate response, anything, but Jensen rolls his hips and he kinda loses what little vocabulary he’s had left.

Gets Jensen’s not-somehow-angling-Alex’-leg-out hand curled around his throat, and Jensen’s frowning, now, deep and sweating and eyes closed and leaning in to kiss Alex again, and Alex’ breath hitches because oh God it’s deep, and he feels himself swallowing against the baby-pressure of Jensen’s palm, and, oh, God.

Jensen pumps into him with as much confidence as he used eating him out, too fast too quick and maybe he’s hot for it, too, needs it just as bad as Alex and Alex reels, sobs; gets a hand between them to work himself while Jensen reams him out like they’re in a true hurry. Which they are, but they locked the door, didn’t they?

Sobbed moan, and Jensen fastens his hand some more, slams his cock home harder.

Low-growled, “This what you wanted?” and Alex just nods, whimpers, with his arm working hard and his sweat flowing even harder. Smells himself, Jensen; their BO, the dust-free too-expensive room.

Alex comes hard, and Jensen takes that as an invitation to reposition his hand from throat to hip, handle Alex even easier and pulls him back onto his cock at a punishing, frantic pace that leaves Alex sobbing, gasping for air; he grabs the table for support instead of getting himself off further and just lets this happen, lets Jensen ride out the last bits of what he can tell is a clenching mess. Blinks stupid and he should wipe at the drool in the corner of his mouth but he can’t, absolutely not.

Jensen grabs at Alex shirt and pushes it up, out of the way, and Alex will be extremely grateful that he’s sensible enough to pull out, after. Disappointed, now, in the heat of the moment, still catching his breath while Jensen grunts with his hand working himself through his own orgasm, with the plentiful mess spilling all over Alex still-heaving belly.

Thick, “Fuck,” while Alex is still pretty much out of language, while Jensen’s load cools shockingly fast on his exposed stomach. Jensen plucks his cap off his head to rake through his hair once, comb it back, just to pull it back on, lean in, kiss Alex on the mouth again. “Fuck, kid. Holy shit.”

Alex’ leg is flirting with a cramp just as Jensen gets his fingers back between his legs, slips his fingers right over the soaked heat of his cock and Alex flinches, weakly, babbles, “Jensen,” but the rest gets drowned out—in Jensen’s mouth, Jensen’s beard.

Jensen gets him off again. Has him flat on the table, on his back, and wrangles two fingers up his used-up pussy, two up his ass, before he’s even done coming down. Alex babbles nonsense up against the roughness of Jensen’s beard, Jensen’s movie star teeth, and Jensen asks him something and of course he says yes, doesn’t have to know, just yes.

Barks, confused, once Jensen pushes his cock up his ass next, though. Gets shushed and fucked into deeper, gets Jensen’s mouth and weight and pulls him in, wills himself open and relaxed as far as he has any say in the matter. Makes Jensen purr, makes him grind his cock deep and then deeper and whispered sweet things like, “Good boy, Alex,” and maybe Alex begs uhm offers for Jensen to come in his ass this time because Jensen confides, “That’s the plan, bud,” and Alex has had some good anal in his time, yeah, but this is just, it’s, he can’t.

Something about this being this weird worshipping idol crazy fantasy kinda thing, and Jensen living up to all the expectations and whatnot, but, oh, holy shit.

Jensen gets him off with just the strict rhythm of his tucked thumb, the gut-deep heat of his bare cock. Doesn’t stop with his holy/cursed thumb even when Alex begins to whimper and toss, just pleads, “Let me,” so Alex lets him—work him to the oversensitive edge of his sanity while he pounds into his ass faster and harder, slap of skin on skin until his breath hitches, all sweet, all buried deep, and he lets go. Comes deep and hot and Alex shudders in sympathy, curls his fingers into the soaked hairline of Jensen fucking Ackles while he’s loading him up like some porn star, some grade A stud or something and it’s ridiculous, and he’s probably only dreaming, but wow, you know what, he’ll take it.

Jensen comes down like he does everything—elegantly. Sighs and allows Alex to wipe the sweat from his face, to search out the jut of his cheekbones and the soft wrinkles around his eyes; the tuft of his beard. Allows to be pulled down for another kiss, and while Alex can’t remember him pulling out or being transferred to the nearby couch, he blinks awake stupid and semi-cleaned. Babbles, “Whu?” but Jensen’s still there, on his phone and with a beer at his mouth and he nods, says, “Hey,” and, “You all right?” and Alex just nods, still down, still pleasantly paralyzed from the hips down.

The sun begins to set, somewhere, outside. A too-warm breeze whistles through the curtains, and Alex would be mad if the AC wasn’t working so beautifully nevertheless.

Alex only half-startles for the slip and thud of his sandal from his socked feet onto the white marble tiles of the room. He’s too lost in the sight of Jensen, right there, propped up on the couch and he’s not even trying to be this beautiful, and that makes things even worse.

Jesus, he’s in a bad way.

“Jared’s asking if we’re up for a pub crawl,” and Alex has to wait out a couple of beats until he realizes he’s being addressed with this not-a-question question. Jensen finally raises his eyebrows. “You up for it, or?”