Unconventional Love

Standing before the altar and minister in the tiny church his parents had attended all his life without him, Ashley couldn’t help but be nervous. He stood with his back straight, but only because his tightly-laced corset forced him to, in a snow-white gown that hid his feet, an equally white veil obscuring his face. This wedding to a man he didn’t know from Adam’s housecat had been arranged because his parents were ashamed of him.

His groom seemed to be ahead of his time, not thinking anything like most people of the time did, especially those from the Deep South. That might’ve been due to the fact that he was born and raised in Ohio, as he’d learned on the ride to the church. However, he doubted he was open and accepting enough to come to terms with what—or rather who—he truly was without beating him within an inch of his life for it. Andrew Biersack thought he was marrying a woman, that he’d be able to make a son on her to continue his lineage. He couldn’t be further from the truth.

When the ceremony was finally drawn to an end, the taller young man leaned forward and flipped his veil up, clearly about to seal their vows with a kiss. Ashley wasn’t too sure how he felt about the idea of another man’s lips on his, even though he’d craved the sensation for as long as he could remember. He was a virgin in every sense of the word, kept innocent by his parents as if he really were a girl, and hadn’t shared so much as a kiss with another person because they wanted him as pure as possible upon marriage.

“Shhh, do not fret,” Andy whispered in his ear. He’d taken a slight detour when he saw how nervous he was. “I will not hurt you, Ashley, nor will it do to have you faint at the altar.”

Taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves, he nodded his head. His new groom gently cupped his cheek in his palm, a palm that could land some hard open-handed blows if he wished it to. He gently caressed his cheekbone right beneath his eye as he leaned in, his other hand on his hip to pull him a bit closer. Their bodies weren’t flush against one another’s, but they were much closer than society deemed polite in this day and age, but they didn’t care. Besides, the moment he laid his lips on what he thought was his young bride’s was beyond description. In fact, Ashley felt that his mind had imploded from the tender gesture as they sealed their vows, their parents and the minister murmuring words of congratulations.

The quintet headed back to the Biersacks’ carriage, intending to drop his parents off at Testa di Lupo once again before making their way to his new home. Silence reigned over their journey to the ranch he was no longer welcome at, but that was fine by him. He didn’t know the Biersacks at all, and had nothing left to say to those who were supposed to love and care about him.

“Will we see you in church next Sunday?” Amy asked as his parents disembarked.

“We will do our best to be there,” Logan answered. “If chores do not get in the way and the animals remain in good health, we will be there.”

“We shall see you then,” she told him, waving to them.

The carriage stayed put until they’d gotten into their house, then the coachman slapped the reins against the horses’ backs to set them into motion.

“You do not have to be so quiet, Ashley,” the older woman said, immediately concerned.

“It is the way I was raised, Miss Amy,” he answered, remembering to pitch his voice higher to sound more feminine.

“None of that ‘Miss Amy’ nonsense.” She waved off his words. “You are now wed to my son; you are free to call me Mother.”

Ashley gave her a weak smile, wondering what the night to come would bring.

“Now that your parents are no longer in our presence…” Christopher trailed off. With no warning as to what he was up to, he grabbed the hem of his skirts and began to lift them high.

“What do you think you are doing?!” he screeched indignantly, slapping his hands aside and attempting to smooth his skirts.

“Father!” his new groom admonished. “If what Logan and Daisy told us is true, Ashley knows no other way of life. Leave the poor thing be, and all will be revealed in due time.”

They know, he thought, his eyes widening in fear. They know that I am not female, as the world believes.

“Ashley, dear. What is amiss?” Amy asked, more than concerned by his display of fear.

“Wh-what did m-my p-parents tell y-you?” the poor thing stuttered.

“The truth. That they never had a daughter and their son did not die as a young boy from scarlet fever,” she answered, trying to be as blunt, yet gentle, as she could about it. “You are a male with what most consider a female’s name, are you not?”

Ashley felt his face pale as he realized that, while he didn’t have to hide what he was around them, it was embarrassing for them to actually know.

“We have our reasons for wanting to find out the truth about you, dear,” she said soothingly.

He just stared at her, his eyes still wide, as she gently laid a hand on his knee.

“You see, we have some family secrets of our own that most would consider sordid,” she said.

“I am what one would consider homosexual,” Andy spoke up, refusing to let his parents share this news since he was right there and this was his bride. “I prefer the company of men over women, and I am more attracted to men, in a sexual sense. That’s not to say that I abhor women; quite the contrary, actually. I just do not find as much comfort or enjoyment in being around women other than my mother.”

“You do not have to hide what—or who—you are around us, Ashley,” Christopher said. “I admit that my way of making sure your parents did not lie to her was presumptuous and brash, and for that, I offer my deepest apologies. After hiding it for all of your fourteen years, I doubted you would have spoken the truth, if I had asked directly.”

“You are right,” he answered, bowing his head in shame. “I have gotten so used to hiding my preferences—and being hidden from the world—that admitting the truth is not something I have thought about doing.”

“What do you mean, ‘being hidden from the world’?” Amy asked.

“My parents kept me locked away, for they were ashamed of me for not being a proper heir.” His already bowed head lowered further, and his cheeks stained themselves pink. “If they did let me out of my room while there were guests, they introduced me as their daughter Ashley, since I have a girl’s name and refused to dress and act as a boy.”

“You will never be locked away with us.” Andy’s already deep voice turned into a growl. “If you wish to wear dresses and pitch your voice higher to resemble a woman around our guests, you may do so. If you wish to dress as a man and pretend to be a butler or something, again, you may do so. We—especially me—will never force you to do something against your will.”

Ashley looked at his new groom in shock.

“I admit that I can be intimidating, due to my deep voice and often angry appearance,” he sighed. “But you will come to learn that I am one of the most understanding and agreeable people on this planet. My parents raised me as such, and would not have chosen to raise me any other way, even if forced.”

“Th-thank you, A-Andrew,” the younger boy stuttered.

“In private, I am to be called Andy.” He gently cupped his bride’s chin in his hand. “You, my dear, are my bride, regardless of your gender. You are family, and family are allowed to call both my father and myself by shortened versions of our names in private.”

“In public we respond to our names as given, and nothing more,” the older man spoke up. “Like Andy insists with his name, you may call me Chris in private.”

“And you will not be beaten for doing so.” His groom had apparently seen the fearful look on his face as he wondered what would happen if he did something they didn’t like. “We think you have suffered punishment enough over your life, especially now that we know you were locked away for most of it. Beating you will do no good, not that we condone such things, anyway.”

He didn’t mean to release the soft whimper of fear, but Ashley couldn’t help it.

“Sure, discipline is a must, and something practiced religiously in this family,” Andy told him. “But never will we beat you for something that does not deserve it. Besides, we like to be more…creative with our punishments before resorting to physical harm.”

“L-like wh-what?” the young boy stuttered nervously.

“Well, around the three of us, you are permitted to curse however you see fit. You are male, after all, and we intend to be lenient, to a degree, because of that,” Chris started. “Even if you wear a dress at the time, around us, you may speak your mind. However, you are not allowed to curse at all around our guests, for you must keep up your ladylike appearance.”

“If you curse around guests, especially while dressed as a lady, your punishment will be drinking vinegar,” Amy continued. “Usually that works well enough and no other punishments are necessary. Ask Andy; that is how we broke him of cursing around guests as a child, and no whippings or beatings were necessary.”

“It is true, Ash,” he chuckled, unconsciously using the shortened version of his name. “I have been whipped by my father only once, and that was for taking a highly valuable piece of jewelry from Mother’s jewelry box when I was ten because I wanted a closer look.”

“That is the only thing you have ever been whipped for?” Ashley asked, shocked.

“Only because of the diamond necklace’s value.” His groom nodded. “Were it not so valuable, or made from a material meant to resemble diamonds, I likely would not have been whipped at all.”

“You are right, son,” Chris agreed. “And you learned your lesson about touching Mother’s jewelry without permission, did you not?”

“I did,” Andy agreed, nodding. “There are very few rules that will be put in place, but we shall go over them later. It has been a long day, and likely we all need our rest.”

Nodding, Ashley asked no more questions of the trio, and although he kept more than a polite distance from the young man he was now wed to, he allowed him to hold his hand. The blue-eyed young man gently rubbed the back of the glove-covered appendage after lacing their fingers together, which brought him a small measure of comfort. He’d expected whomever his parents had arranged to marry him off to to be abusive and attempt beating him before they were even home. The care and concern these people were showing him was unexpected and would take time to adjust to, but he vowed he’d do it.

A short while after they fell into silence again, the carriage began to slow and soon jerked to a halt outside his new home. The young boy gave a delighted gasp as he took in the log cabin-styled mansion, clearly built with precision and care by hand. Gas lamps glowed softly by all of the doors to light the way in the thickening twilight, and he’d never expected to see such opulence in all his life.

Chris disembarked before helping his wife down, allowing their newly wed son to disembark behind them. Andy reached up to help his bride down as well, causing him to blush as he gingerly laid his gloved hand in his palm once again. The moment he was on the ground, he moved his hand to grab his groom’s elbow, giving him a shy smile as he began following his parents and leading him up to the front door. From what he could tell so far, their home was beautiful, and he was beginning to feel a sense of pride at being able to call it his, too.

The interior of the cabin-style mansion was even more opulent than its exterior, drawing a soft gasp from the young boy. The floors of the hallways and parlor were constructed of cedar, the floors of washrooms and water closets of a dark, rich marble. The walls were covered in the finest of silk wallpaper, the colors varying from room to room. Only the bedrooms upstairs had carpeting, although Andy’s—the one he would share with him—had hardwood flooring with throw rugs in various places. Each of the bedrooms suited their occupant’s personality, or had no particular color scheme, if they were meant for guests. Still, this home bespoke its owners’ wealth, which would normally be intimidating to a small-town farmer’s son.

“Am I to assume you like it?” Chris asked, taking in his new son-in-law’s reaction.

“It is beautiful,” he breathed, still looking around with wide, sparkling eyes.

“That would be my doing,” Amy chuckled lightly. “I told my husband he could design and decorate the exterior and the grounds however he saw fit, but the interior was my domain.”

“And it got us the results we desired, with little to no power struggle,” the older man said, gently nuzzling his wife’s temple.

“That it did, which is why I suggested that compromise,” she agreed.

“Andy, why don’t you show your own bride to your chambers?” he suggested. “We will not know if they will suit him without his getting a good look at them.”

“Only if he is willing, Father,” Andy answered, nodding.

The thought of going anywhere near his groom’s chambers scared him stiff, and he was literally unable to move, no matter how hard he tried.

“Ash? What is amiss?” the young man asked, concerned about him.

Unable to find his voice, he shook his head vigorously.

“Ah, I think I know.” He gave his bride a gentle smile. “You are a virgin in every sense of the word, are you not?”

Embarrassed, he blushed bright red, but kept his eyes locked with his husband’s.

“Do not fret, sweet one. I have no intentions of deflowering you before you are ready,” Andy said, trying to reassure him. “I mean only to let you look around, as you have done in the public rooms, and let you get comfortable. No doubt that the sofas might be comfortable for sitting, but not for sleeping overnight when one has a choice.”

“We have raised him better than that, Ashley,” Amy assured him. “If you say no to such advances, he will just as soon go sleep in the barn to avoid temptation than force you into something.”

“Would you really?” Ashley asked, barely peeking up at him.

“I would. Sleeping in a pile of hay might not be very comfortable for me, but I would rather endure a bit of physical pain and exhaustion than hurt you,” his groom assured him. “Just because it is our wedding night does not mean you are to be deflowered just yet if you do not feel ready.”

Trying to take as much comfort as he could from their words, especially those of his new groom, he placed his hand back on his elbow and allowed him to lead him upstairs. The suite at the far end of the hall after making a right at the top of the stairs belonged to them, the one at the far end of the hall in the opposite direction belonging to Chris and Amy.

Upon entering the main room on his husband’s arm, Ashley gasped softly again, covering his mouth as he took in the surroundings. The silk wallpaper decorating the walls was a combination of black and crimson, the furniture’s upholstery following the same color scheme. All the wood used in the furniture was a deep cherry, polished to gleaming perfection with lemon oil to help keep it from warping. The sofa and coffee table were placed before a huge stone fireplace, its hearth ready to either hold refreshments that needed to be kept warm, or glasses of wine during a romantic evening before a roaring fire.

Behind the couch, there was a grand piano, its construction obviously some of the finest in the country. It was hand carved from ebony, which explained why it was black, and cared for by just as loving a hand as that that cared for the rest of the wooden furniture. He assumed Andy was a bit of a pianist, but also played bass as well, since there was a double bass propped up in its stand in the corner. Its bow was propped up near it, just in case whoever used it required it while playing.

However, the bedroom behind the door on the other side of the room was just as beautiful. The wallpaper in here was black and a deep sea blue, which accented the young man’s icy-blue eyes, and the bedding and upholstery in here matched, as well. The huge, four-poster bed was carved out of the same ebony as his piano, the sheets the same shade as his wallpaper, the blankets black as the night sky. He had a smaller sofa in a corner next to a bookcase, obviously set up there as a reading nook for stormy days that he couldn’t be outside and didn’t feel like playing his instruments. There were many books on the shelves, all of them hardbacks, and Ashley couldn’t help but long to know how to read so that he might enjoy the stories they held.

“It is absolutely gorgeous,” he breathed, still a bit overwhelmed.

“Not as gorgeous as you,” Andy told him, gently nuzzling his temple as Chris had done to Amy downstairs.

“Do you actually play the piano and bass in our sitting room?” the young boy asked curiously.

“Like a professional,” his groom answered with a note of pride. “My parents did not pay for lessons in my youth just for them to go to waste.”

“Even if we had the money, I doubt my parents would have done such a thing.” Ashley picked at non-existent lint on his overskirt as he looked down at his feet.

“My parents told me you have quite the voice,” he said, gesturing for him to sit down in their reading nook.

“I cannot really sing,” he denied, shaking his head as he blushed. “My parents put an end to my attempts when I was young, and I refused to sing in front of others as I got older.”

“You will have to sing for me sometime, even if you do not for my parents,” Andy said. “Like with deflowering you, I will not push you into something you are not ready for, but I want to hear you sing eventually.”

“Will you teach me to play, though?” He knew he was practically begging, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Of course. I can teach you to play the piano, the bass, or both, if you so desire,” his groom answered, nodding. “However, it is getting late. We should get some rest and begin any such endeavors on the morn.”

With exhaustion suddenly setting in, Ashley nodded his agreement and allowed the young man to help him rise. He was a bit nervous about allowing him to help him undress and get ready for bed, but he supposed that this first night would tell him how things would be in the future. No one but his ridiculous excuse of a mother had ever helped him dress, and even then, she’d made sure his clothing was tight enough to cut off circulation and hinder his breathing for a time.

The moment he’d gotten the gown off of him and began to work on unlacing his corset, Andy gasped at how tight it truly was. He wondered just how on Earth the poor thing in front of him had been able to breathe all day, swearing that he wouldn’t wear a corset again for some time. It was unhealthy to be laced thus for extended periods of time, and he was enraged upon finding out his mother had been doing that for six months.

Ashley took a deep breath once he’d cut the laces of the corset, which were so tight he hadn’t been able to untie them. He nearly collapsed where he stood, feeling as though his muscles were too weak to hold him upright and the corset was the only thing doing so. His groom caught him in his arms and made him lie down on their bed, where he gently helped him into his nightgown. Once he was settled for the night, he watched as the young man rid himself of his layers of daytime attire, slipping a nightshirt over his head that reached mid-thigh. He was a bit afraid of sharing his bed, even in a non-sexual sense, but this was his husband, who’d sworn not to hurt and to love him.

Once settled by his new bride’s side, Andy rolled over just enough to blow out the gas lamp sitting on his nightstand, engulfing the room in darkness. He intended on staying on his own side of the bed to give the young boy his space, gasping in surprise when he rolled over and cuddled up to him. Ashley rested his head on his shoulder, his arms wound tightly around his waist, as if he were afraid of the dark. He gently wrapped his arms around him in return, rubbing his back and running his fingers through his long, raven locks as he calmed him down. It wasn’t long before the young boy fell asleep in his arms, although it wasn’t as peaceful as he’d hoped, and Andy finally allowed himself to drift off, as well.

Notes