Take My Body (Curse Bound 2)

He took a shower in Caspian’s en-suite bathroom, which was half the size of Gunner’s whole trailer. The water never changed temperature when he washed, covering him in a steady stream from the square rain showerhead above. Just like Caspian’s boring room and wardrobe, the interior of the bathroom was an expensive-looking mix of white, greys and blacks in a variety of textures. Gunner had actually gone over to one of the other bathrooms to pick up a shampoo that wasn’t mint or sandalwood. And what was Caspian’s obsession with tea tree anyway? It didn’t even smell like tea.

With his hair refreshed with the scent of raspberry and banana, Gunner was ready to take on the world, so he opened the closet with a wide smile that faltered as soon as the sea of gray, black, brown, and navy blue swallowed him like a tsunami of dull. The situation went from bad to worse when Gunner started laying the garments out on the bed, only to discover that monotonous colors weren’t the biggest issue about Caspian’s wardrobe.

Everything was two sizes too big. The suit Gunner found in a remote corner was the single tailored piece that might showcase the narrow lines of Caspian’s body, but where Gunner had hoped to emerge from the house like a butterfly about to have the time of his life, he now feared he might end up looking more like a moth.

In his own life, Gunner didn’t have money to spare and was far from being flashy in his fashion choices, but even he incorporated more fun in his clothes than… whatever this was. No sane guy would as much as glance at him in any of the things filling up the two rails in the vast closet, which meant that he had one option—to let Caspian’s credit card take him out for a shopping spree.

His hands trembled when he realized that the best spot to go through with that plan was the mall in one of the nearby towns located along the highway.

The same one where Mike Choi had his sports nutrition store.

Was that destiny, or what?

A cold shiver went all the way to his stomach when he remembered the ease with which Caspian had pushed him over, but he couldn’t live guided by fear. Mike Choi was rough around the edges, but surely wouldn’t be aggressive toward a gay man he could fuck?

Or date.

Would they date?

Gunner stared into the tall mirror. He was cute. Why wouldn’t another guy treat him for once? When he dated girls, it was his job to pay for them, but shouldn’t he be the one getting treated when he was this motherfucking adorable?

The strands on his head barely reached the ends of his earlobes, but that was still more hair than he was used to dealing with. Should he splurge on a visit to the barber’s? Caspian didn’t have any jewelry either, only a fancy oversized watch that had extra holes punched in to fit his slim wrist. Even in his old body, Gunner liked to sport a bit of bling and could get away with signets, but there was nothing to put on his long, slim fingers in any of the drawers. He could only hope Caspian had lots of credit.

He ended up putting on a pair of torn jeans he’d found tucked at the back of a drawer, because while worn, they were small enough to kind-of fit Gunner’s new body. There was a hole on one of the legs, but it looked like some pathetic accidental rip, so he tore the denim all the way to the seam for it to appear more deliberate. There was nothing to be done about the tent-like tops though, so Gunner resigned himself to one of the white polo shirts, hoping he’d get to replace it with something more interesting soon enough.

Five minutes later, he opened the garage door and hardly believed his eyes when he found a beautiful vintage car waiting for him. The dragon logo at the front of the hood told him nothing, but the shape of its body was reminiscent of luxurious cars from the 1950s. Painted a cherry red, it had an interior furnished with cream leather upholstery and marbled wood. And while obviously an antique of sorts, it was in excellent shape, polished to perfection as if it had been deep-cleaned last night.

The driver’s seat was comically close to the wheel, but Gunner realized how much sense that made with Caspian’s short legs the moment he sat inside the vehicle, rubbing the thin steering wheel as if it were a sacred artefact.

Now that he got to see the console from up close, he decided that the car wasn’t just clean. There wasn’t a scratch or imperfection in sight, as if it were either new or recently renovated. He didn’t think he’d ever sat in a vehicle this flawless outside of a showroom.