Page 84 of Magic in My Bones

Perhaps it was the impending trip out to the old academy tomorrow that had him so tense.

I held his gaze, searching for the right words to break through whatever wall he had built up around himself tonight. “Ren…” I said, softer this time, stepping closer. “Tomorrow is going to go well. We’ve made all the preparations we can. There’s no reason it shouldn’t go exactly like we planned.”

Ren's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite place. He set down his glass with a soft clink, the ice cubes tinkling against each other like chimes in a gentle breeze. “It's not just about tomorrow, Dorian,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I felt my heart constrict, a familiar ache settling in my chest. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken words. I moved closer, my fingers trailing along the cool granite of the countertop, wanting to bridge the gap between us but unsure how.

“What is it then?” I asked, my voice gentle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, Ren.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders hunching even more, as if he was trying to make himself smaller. “It's about... us. About what you said the other night.”

I frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, love.”

He sighed and looked away, his expression distant.

“Ren,” I began, my voice soft as I moved closer. “Whatever you're thinking, whatever fears are running through that brilliant mind of yours, I promise you, they're unfounded.”

He looked up at me then, his brown eyes swimming with a mix of vulnerability and frustration that made my chest ache. “Are they, though?” he asked, a bitter edge to his words. “You said you wanted me to... to top you. But Dorian, I can't. I'm not... I don't have...” He let out a frustrated growl. “I’ll never be able to give you what a cis man could.”

I took a slow breath, my heart aching at the rawness in his voice. I could see the frustration in the tightness of his jaw, the way his hands were balled into fists at his sides. It wasn’t about the act itself. It was about how Ren saw himself, how he believed his body couldn’t measure up.

I stepped closer to him, my hand finding his, gentle but firm. “Ren,” I said softly, coaxing his gaze to meet mine. “Listen to me. This isn’t about what you think you can or can’t give me. When I look at you,” I continued, my voice soft but firm, “I see a brilliant, passionate young man who challenges me intellectually and moves me emotionally. I see someone whose strength and determination inspire me daily. Someone whose very presencemakes my world brighter, more vibrant, more alive. I love you as you are, in every way that matters.”

His brow furrowed, and I could see the skepticism in his eyes. “But—”

“No buts,” I interrupted, squeezing his hand. “You're already everything I could want, Ren. The way you carry yourself, the quiet strength in your movements, the masculine energy that radiates from everything you do… It's all intrinsically you. Your body is beautiful because it's yours, because it's part of the remarkable man you are. I don’t need you to be someone else. I don’t need you to have something you don’t. I need you, just as you are.”

I let go of his hand, cupping his face instead, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I don’t need toreproduceanything, love. I don’t need some ideal of what a relationship or a man is supposed to look like. I wantyou.I want us to explore and learn together, tobetogether.”

I took a step back, feeling my chest tighten as I let the words sink in, watching his expression shift as he processed them. “If you’re open to it there are options we can explore, but we will do it on our terms. No expectations. No pressure.”

Ren’s eyes softened, but the tension still clung to his shoulders, his brows drawn together in concentration as if weighing my words carefully. After a long moment of silence, he spoke, his voice quieter now, a thread of uncertainty weaving through the words.

“I want to, Dorian. I really do. But how?” He let out a shaky breath, his hands resting at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling. “I feel stupid for even asking.”

“You are not stupid, Ren Wickens!” I insisted. “You're one of the most intelligent young men I know, and it hurts my heart that you would think such a thing about yourself. You're young, love, and this is all new. You must be gentle with yourself.” Itook a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement flutter in my chest. “Come with me,” I said softly, tugging gently on Ren's hand. “I have something to show you.”

Ren followed, his steps hesitant but curious as I led him down the hallway to my bedroom. The bedroom was a sanctuary of warmth and shadow, illuminated by enchanted crystals that cast a gentle, amber glow across the dark wood furniture. Books of necromancy and magical theory lined the shelves, their spines creating a comforting pattern of aged leather and gilt lettering. A protection circle was etched into the floor beneath the vintage rug, its runes glowing faintly with reassuring magic. The warm glow of the bedside lamps cast a soft, intimate light across the room, making the dark wood furniture gleam. I guided Ren to sit on the edge of the bed, its plush duvet sinking slightly under his weight.

“Wait here,” I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to my dresser. I pulled open the bottom drawer, reaching past neatly folded sweaters to retrieve a discreet black box. My heart raced a little as I returned to Ren, sitting beside him on the bed.

“I've been doing some research,” I began, my voice gentle. “About ways we could... explore together. Ways that might help you feel more comfortable and confident.” I placed the box on my lap, running my fingers over its smooth surface. “I want you to know that there are options, Ren. Tools we can use together to explore different ways of expressing the masculinity that's already fundamental to who you are. Your identity isn't dependent on any of these things; they're just different ways to express what's already there.”

I opened the box carefully, revealing a sleek, dark leather harness and a flesh-toned silicone prosthetic. The harness was simple but elegant, with adjustable straps and a sturdy O-ring.The prosthetic was expertly crafted, its surface smooth and lifelike.

Ren's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering across his face. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch but was hesitating.

“This prosthetic and harness were specifically designed for trans men,” I explained softly, my voice low and gentle. “It’s supposed to help them feel more comfortable and confident during intimate moments.” I paused, watching Ren's face carefully. “I want to be absolutely clear, love. This is about adding to your options, not replacing or changing anything about you," I explained softly. "You're already completely masculine, completely valid as you are. This is simply a tool, like my ritual implements. Something to channel what's already there, not define it.”

I set the box aside and took Ren's hands in mine, my thumbs tracing small circles on his palms. He looked at the harness and prosthetic for a long moment, his fingers curling slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure. After a pause, I spoke again, my voice steady but gentle.

“This is simply an option, if you want to explore it. There's no pressure, no expectations. If you never want to use it, that's perfectly fine. If you want to try it someday, that's fine too. And if you decide you love it and want to use it all the time, that's wonderful as well.”

Ren's eyes flickered between the box and my face, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he processed this new information. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You... you got this for me?”

I nodded, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I did. But remember, there’s no pressure to use it if you’re not comfortable.”

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