Breaking Barriers Ch 09

9://Code Freeze

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Kip gently tapped his fingers against the keyboard, tracing the well-worn keys lazily as he stared at the screen. An open editor of rough polygons and lines of code stared back at him, and as more of the workday passed, the less sense it made. He didn't really care for Leopold's knitted brow staring at him over the tops of cubicles, or in the brief visible window between the door and the hallway as he passed by, but honestly it was the only thing that motivated him that day. And the red exclamation-pointed email about the day's deadline that he dragged into the trash after reading the preview.

He waited until Leo's tall, gaunt figure drifted away until he began working again. Sometimes he wondered about him, even went so far as to be worried about him. He was a pain, for sure, but there was also something fragile about him. Then he remembered his greeting that morning.

"No gentleman callers today?" Leo's voice had made him jump when he had first got into his office. He hadn't heard the faint footsteps coming around the corner, and the office carpet was plush enough to still most of the vibrations. Before Kip could answer, he tacked on, "I assume that means your work will actually be usable today."

"What about my work has been unusable thus far?" Kip bristled. He pointedly ignored the dig about Vale. He didn't come to visit him that often, except for the occasional lunch since they became official, and certainly not in the past week since they had been together. He hadn't yet talked to Vale about what had gone wrong for him, but he could tell that Vale felt he was distant. It hurt him to put him through that, and frustrated him, but he didn't have the right words yet.

"We're moving to the new format soon, and all the developers have to get used to it. All the variables have to be set at the start of the scene, but yours are still interspersed throughout," Leo said, folding his arms. His tawny skin strained under the rising pressure of a throbbing vein in his temple, and Kip could only keep himself from rolling his eyes and smirking.

"I'm working on it, Leo, but there's no reason to get upset. My variables are set when they are needed. Many aren't used at the start of a scene. It still works in this format, and we're not officially changing over until the next project." Kip tried to keep his voice even and tempered, hoping that his workplace adversary would do the same.

"It's just the rules around here. All the developers need to be on the same page. I can't focus on fine tuning your work if I have to re-write it." He turned to leave, heading back over to his desk. "And it's 'Leopold' to you." Kip watched him fade from view into the jungle of cubicles and took a deep breath. That interaction was the first sign that it was going to be a long day.

His mind kept drifting back to his and Vale's first time together, and how strained things had been since then. At first, Vale hadn't caught on. He had been just as cheery in the morning, and Kip hated how withdrawn he had become since then. It wasn't that he was intentionally pushing Vale away, but the loop of the Word-That-Shall-Not-Be-Uttered played in his head, and it was like a punch in the gut every time, and sometimes it was hard to hide. Vale could only ask him what was wrong so many times, and he could only give so many empty answers until he had finally asked for a bit of space, and that he would tell him when he was ready. Vale had looked crushed, but hadn't questioned it. He had nodded, and honored the request.

That had been days ago, and days of work that Kip had missed out on while he floundered around in his own feelings. He sighed and returned to the page of code. It was due today, and realistically he could catch up and finish it, but it would be a tight squeeze. If he could manage to focus.

He tweaked several lines of code, and then hit Play on the editor, watching the animated figures move in the preview screen. In a rhythm that he had cultivated over the course of his internship, he flipped between the windows, making sure the code was efficient and all parts were playing nicely together for his stage of the game. Since he was early in the chain of command, his job was broad enough that he got to work on a variety of components, something which he liked.

He got to work on characters' walk cycles, alter the scenery, stage dialogue, and most importantly, design all the mechanics and hook up all the quests to streamline the flow of game play. Those were the parts that truly excited him - putting it all together, winding it up, and watching it run. As he got into it, everything else faded into the background, and he steamrolled through his checklist. He almost couldn't believe it when he was wrapping up the files to be sent along to the next part of the team, and an hour before the work day was over.

He triple and quadruple-checked everything, not wanting to hear about it from Leo after the weekend. Or deity-forbid, during the weekend. It wouldn't be the first time that his anxiety-ridden "teammate" had badgered him during off-hours about this line of code, or that poorly-structured database. I mean, Kip thought, it wasn't that bad. It had been an easy-to-read datamap in his mind. Leo was just too strict and unwilling to think outside the box.

After being sure, he clicked send on the email with a sizable attachment and watched it whisk away into the cyberspace, and then he packed up his briefcase and headed to his team leader to check out for the day. It was common practice for the firm to be very deadline-oriented. The plus side of that was if you finished early, you could go home early.

She was a middle-aged woman with curly auburn hair that bounced lightly on her shoulders. She greeted the young intern with a warm smile, but it was perfunctory nonetheless. She opened the email that had been CC'd to the team and gave it a cursory glance, seeing no glaring errors. She gave him a thumbs up and bid him a good weekend, and he politely did the same before making a beeline towards the exit.

He couldn't count the amount of "thumbs up" signs he got in a day, after it got around that he was deaf. It seemed to be the easy default that everyone settled into to communicate with him. He didn't mind too much, as it was less work than lipreading or straining through the crackle of the hearing aids. It was just another amusing thing that Hearing people did that sometimes ventured into annoying and predictable.

At least Vale hadn't been like that. During his walk home he kept his phone clutched in his hand, wanting so desperately to stop and send a text, asking to see him. He just wanted the hurt to be over, and he knew it was time to talk. He just wasn't sure what to say.

* * *

Kip slumped on the couch with his salad and picked through the spinach leaves. He had topped with more imitation crab than usual, but he told himself he needed the protein. He chided himself for being ridiculous. He felt like he was grieving, but it was too soon for that. He just needed to talk to Vale, but first he needed the courage.

He replayed their night back in his head, every trail of his fingers, every nip of his lips, and finally up to the relief and comfort of their first coupling. He had loved feeling Vale inside him, even if it had been in the front. He had come to terms with that reality some time ago, and had learned to dissociate from any feelings of femininity socially attached to that particular organ. It was just something that was his, that he occasionally used.

But that word... why had he felt more vulnerable than usual? Was it because of how much he loved Vale? He put his salad down and tugged his laptop onto his lap, sprawling back into the plush cushions of the couch. He lazily scrolled through a few of his favorite sites, and almost out of habit, he glanced around the apartment, even though he was quite sure he was alone.

He clicked open a private browser window and typed in a few of his favorite URLs by heart into separate tabs. He loosened the waistband of his pajama pants, which had been a priority as soon as he'd stepped in the apartment, and wedged his hand in to cup himself gently. He squeezed, pretending it was Vale who did so. He sighed while he scrolled through the pictures on the first website. The least he could do was relieve some tension before the uncomfortable conversation.

Finely sculpted porn stars adorned his screen, a panel of pictures of the website's unique actors, many of whom were transmen, and the rest were cismales who played with them. There were a few different dynamics shown in pictures and clips through the pairings, and Kip reasoned that they were probably trying to fill in the usual porn categories and repopulate them with trans/cis dynamics. Samaritan's work, really. All the cliche's were hit, including a few gay specific ones, like one pairing that was a sweet Daddy/boy dynamic, although not really Kip's thing, he appreciated that it existed for those whose thing it was.

The bodies of the transmen he scrolled past amazed him. He only wished he had gotten such a good result while on testosterone. Sometimes it was hard to not compare himself to the masculine examples, the tapered waists, the broad shoulders, the angled jawlines. During the times when he admired them with his hand down his pants, it became an odd mix of "Wow, I want to look like that" and "Wow, I want to be fucked by that".

He clicked to some new clips that were freshly posted. He thanked the major pillars of deities that he had come across this site one lazy day. Trans porn was hard to find in general, and even more so for FtMs. He could have sworn that he'd seen it all, and it was all performed by the same three guys. Now with this site becoming more established, hopefully it would help drive the industry forward. After all, representation is important, Kip reminded himself.

He clicked on the latest video with an interesting thumbnail. Most of the transmen on the site were of the twink variety, but this guy was ripped. He looked ready to head into a bodybuilding competition, or receive a medal for one. His expression was stern, and his short, blond hair was cut in a strict military style that suited him. He was wearing athletic gear and heading into a locker room where other guys were showering and heading out. A quick credit rolled up, "Introducing Oliver Saint", when the camera followed him over to a row of lockers.

While they were doing a close up of him checking out the cisguys roaming around, Kip inwardly cursed that porn sites didn't prioritize closed captions. He dug out his earbuds and quickly plugged them in, adjusting them. His residual hearing and max volume would have to do the trick today. The visuals were nice, but the dirty talk could be fun too. As the tinny sound of background music faded in, he leaned back to watch and extend his disbelief for about twenty minutes of fun. Give or take.

Oliver Saint slowed in front of a locker and deftly opened it, rummaging around a gym bag inside, but his eyes kept glancing around. Various athletes high-fived as they strolled out through the swinging doors, thus lowering the foot traffic of the spacious locker room. It almost appeared that Oliver Saint was left alone when he closed his locker with his gym bag open on the bench, but a faint sound of water could be heard in the background. It ended and a younger, cisgendered twink padded around the corner as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Only a faint hint of a V-shape tapering from his torso could be seen.

As the younger guy stood in front of the sink and mirror brushing his hair, Oliver's soft, grey eyes remained fixed on him in a confident, yet predatory gaze. He silently peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the gym bag, revealing his rippling muscles and stiff, thin scars that paralleled Kip's own. Except, of course, Oliver Saint had the pecs to hide them better. He must have caught the twink's eye in the mirror, because the smaller guy froze and slowly turned with a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"Good work out there today, Adler," Oliver said, shucking off his athletic leggings and revealing his jockstrap. The way the bulge sat, Kip could tell it was a packer underneath, possibly even an STP device with an insertable rod, but the average audience probably wouldn't be so observant.

"Thanks, Captain." Adler shyly glanced at his bulging, laying a hand protectively around the clasp of his towel. "You were great, as usual." There was a mischievous glint in Oliver's eye, like a predator about to pounce, just flexing his claws. The anticipation built for Kip too, and his hand became more exploratory, but still held a lazy rhythm as he tweaked and rubbed himself.

"I can tell you're improving. Perhaps I could even mention to Coach that you're starting to look like first string material." Oliver leaned against his closed locker, nonchalantly crossing his arms, oozing masculinity and sultry confidence. "You're definitely more toned now." His gaze trawled up and down the man's toweled-clothed form.

"An underclassman making first string? At this university?" Adler chewed his lip, an actor's remarkable attempt at feigned innocence. "It's almost unheard of."

"But not impossible." Oliver strode around the bench and gently clasped a hand to the younger, clean-shaven face. The camera zoomed in to show him whispering in Adler's ear, his stubble brushing across the silken cheek. "For the right motivation."

Adler gulped and nodded, his voice coming out in a breathless whisper. "Just like tryouts, sir?" Kip's movements became more ambitious as the tingly feeling started to spread in his southern areas. He wasn't sure why that statement had caused a jolt, but the actors' on-screen chemistry was becoming palpable, and finally, a transman was in the authoritative position. Relatively speaking. Kip wondered if the aforementioned coach would be become involved. Perhaps in a subsequent clip? This site was known for doing loose continuity series.

"Not quite like tryouts," Oliver said, his boyish smirk returning. He grasped Adler's hand and brought it to his package, and tensed, making the fingers squeeze. "You won't be getting this, this time." Maybe it already was an in-progress series, Kip wondered, that he had somehow missed.

"That's good, sir. I'm still a little sore. It's been hard to sit down." A flush rose in Adler's cheeks at his admission, and Oliver chuckled.

"Good. But I have something different in mind. I have a rather deep itch that needs to be scratched, and I think you have just the right tool for the job." Oliver cast his gaze towards Adler's own crotch, which was beginning to tent underneath the towel.

"Are you sure?" Adler asked, and his answer was met with Oliver yanking briskly at the towel, flinging it onto the bench next to his gym bag. Now standing next to each other, Kip was surprised to see that Oliver was even an inch or so taller than Adler, a now very confirmed cismale, with a very stiffening rod. Oliver used his imposing figure to herd him over to another bench, and the camera angle swiveled to show a side view as he laid Adler down on it. He lazily stroked him to full mast, gazing down at him with pure hunger in his eyes. Adler looked up at him with a mix of adoration and disbelief. Oliver winked at him.

"I'm sure." He straddled him and started lowering himself onto Adler's slender, but long cock. Oliver's eyes closed in bliss as he moaned, taking inch after inch easily in the front. Kip was amazed at how easy it happened, and he noticed this his own breathing was starting to become labored. The first penetrative stroke was always the best, and he was definitely hard now.

"Oh, Captain, thank you for allowing me to do this," Adler moaned. Oliver reached out to tweak his nipples, causing Adler to hiss and then ease back into a moan as he got used to his Captain's generous ministrations.

"You're welcome. That's a good boy. Nice and hard." Oliver muttered a string of dirty compliments as he started to lift himself, lowering slowly, lifting quickly in a quickening rhythm. He had a good pace going while he tortured the aroused nipples of the young man beneath him. "Such a nice dick. You're hitting everything I need."

"Scratching that itch, sir?" Adler managed a sheepish smile as Oliver released his reddening nips and rubbed his palms all over the toned chest heaving beneath him. The slender hips moved beneath him and as Oliver rode up and down, they met in the middle for a satisfying slapping sound.

"Itching it good," Oliver admitted. He took a moment to slow and catch his breath. "But I think another angle is better suited to really get it good." He slowly raised himself and dismounted, Adler's very hard, throbbing cock popping out with a hint of disappointment between them both. "Don't worry, it'll be back in soon enough," Oliver assured him.

Following his lead, Adler switched places with him, and Oliver laid on his back against the bench. Kip couldn't imagine that being comfortable, but it wasn't a thought that hindered his hand from furiously stroking his little T-cock at this point. Oliver pulled Adler in between his legs and guided him in, wrapping his muscular, hairy legs around his waist and setting his pace.

"Is this good enough, sir?" Adler said while thrusting hard, waiting to hear his superior's approval.

"It's fucking spectacular!" Oliver exclaimed, repeatedly drawing the young athlete in. "Don't you dare stop. I'm so close!" His voice was gruff and deep, commanding the flesh piston onwards. Adler was panting hard, but showed no signs of slowing. The camera zoomed in on the action, watching the slender cock disappear into the warm, wet front hole of the team captain, his own, bigger T-cock inflamed with arousal and bouncing. Kip was feeling close himself. The tingles started flooding his lower spine. Just a few more strokes... and then Oliver shouted his own orgasm, spurring Adler on.

"That's it! That's it! Fuck that pussy good!" Oliver clutched at Adler as they shared their orgasm together, and Kip came hard too, his legs tensing against the coffee table in front of him. He stroked through the waves of pleasure, slowing as it all winded down. When Oliver and Adler parted, the camera zoomed in to show the pearly cream leaking out of Oliver's front hole, and then back to their faces, where both guys were smiling and chuckling with affection. The screen faded to credits and quickly ended, and Kip finally released himself, relaxing into the aftershocks.

There was that word again, but with that timing, in that scenario, it had been hotter than he had ever imagined and pushed him over the edge. Kip almost couldn't believe it. He was feeling a little light-headed from the intense release, and what it might mean about himself.

If that transman, the epitome of masculinity incarnate, could use that word with himself, with such confidence and acceptance, could Kip come to do it too? He wasn't sure, but he favorited the clip and closed the laptop. He reached for his phone, now feeling ready to text Vale and explain, but his eyes fell on the notification. Vale had beat him to it.