Caspian put him down once the door was locked behind them, and Gunner’s stomach cramped at the discomfort of the upcoming conversation, because he didn’t want to have it. He’d never even told anyone of his gay feelings, and had only tried to get together with Mike because it couldn’t be traced back to him once he returned to his own body, and he’d somehow ended up submitting to the one person who knew the truth.
He’d let a man fuck him. Call him slut. Slap his ass.
And he’d begged for it.
He covered his face with both hands and kept them there when Caspian grabbed his forearms and steered him back until Gunner’s calves hit the bed. With hope leaking out of him like air from a slashed tire, Gunner sat down, resigned to his fate. He parted his fingers enough to glance at Caspian.
But instead of rolling him over for another round, Caspian took a cautious step back and crossed his arms on his chest, just staring. Gunner wasn’t used to being in the presence of someone who could overpower him with such ease, and he couldn’t help but peek at the massive tattooed pecs that, unbelievably, still felt like a part of him. He’d chosen that ink to look dangerous, to intimidate, and it was working even though he knew it was Caspian Brady on the inside.
The silent scrutiny felt like a hand tightening around Gunner’s throat, and he wished for his body to cave in on itself, so he didn’t have to confront the reality of what happened. But there was only so long the truth could be avoided, because Caspian knew all about Gunner’s shame.
“I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to be gay!” he choked out breathlessly. “I can’t blame it on your body, since you’re in mine, and you’ve clearly got a mind of your own. So I guess this is me. A faggy fag.” He sobbed, too overwhelmed to fight it.
“Jesus, don’t say that,” Caspian muttered and dragged over an old chair, which he sat in back-to-front. He even put on his T-shirt as if they needed decency all of a sudden. He then speared Gunner with an inquisitive gaze that didn’t belong on the boorish face. It was so strange to see someone else behind features Gunner had seen in the mirror all his life. Not just because he wasn’t the one inside there, but because Caspian’s body language and expressions were so different to his own that they transformed the familiar physique into something unknown.
Gunner spread his arms, helpless against the interrogating gaze. “Well, it’s true. I just let you drill me like I didn’t have a brain anymore. And now I’m crying about it like a wuss! Can I just stop fucking crying?” He grabbed a tissue from the side of the bed and rubbed off the tears that kept coming.
Caspian remained silent, his thick, handsome brows lowering, as if he were taking his time to think over what Gunner said. “Is that something you wanted? You know... before?” he asked, and while the question was intrusive, there wasn’t even a hint of a mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Gunner needed to take a deep breath to stop his teeth from clattering. There was no point in lying, was there? “Y-yes. But I’ve never done it. And then you put your hand on my throat, like you owned me, and I fucking lost it.”
Caspian cleared his throat and moved in the chair, as if he were attempting to lessen the pressure of fabric on his crotch. Was this awkward conversation turning him on?
“That’s okay. People have all kinds of fantasies. Maybe you just felt free to go with what you wanted because... you’re not yourself? Does that make sense?”
Gunner gave a weak nod, because just like he’d felt more confident about drinking a girly drink in public in this new body, the desire to submit no longer felt as jarring as it had in his own hulking form. He took a moment to assess this new situation and looked down at his curled toes. Even his feet were cute now—narrow and nearly hairless. “I guess. Those things are just… not something I should even consider.”
“Why?”
Gunner groaned in frustration. Why did he have to explain this? “‘Cause you don’t get any respect if you are that way. You’ve got no idea about my life, so please make sure to keep your needs on the down low while you’re in my body.” Though it seemed that Caspian’s needs were exactly what Gunner’s body was made for.
Caspian shifted, as if Gunner’s response made him uncomfortable. He embraced the back of the chair and rested his chin on the wood. “I used to be out in college, but no one in this town knows. No one needs to know what we do in bed, right?” he asked, and his brown gaze pinned Gunner down, as if he were an insect on a board, not yet dead but already knowing its fate.