In the middle of the Rainbow

You followed Arthur on horseback toward some kind of treasure. Hopefully. You normally wouldn’t give a moment’s thought to a map, especially one as ragged and torn as the one you had found, but Arthur mentioned he had found two that turned into treasure—gold. It was at least worth a look. Shit at tracking, you had asked Arthur to come along. You knew it would mean splitting the take, but if said take was as large as Arthur’s previous finds, it would be worth it and then some.

“Think the tree’ll have some kind of clue?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow. Your patience was running pitifully thin.

“Map says to go past it. I think I know where.”

Cryptic. Really, you didn’t know why you put up with him. That was a lie, you did—Arthur had become one of your closest friends. It was a bit of an odd pairing, him being so serious and literal and you being so easy-going. But the more you got to know him, the more you brought out that side of him, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

“Oh, he knows where!” you said to your horse, patting its neck.

“Hush,” he grumbled, earning himself a cackle from you.

Sure enough, you soon reached the tree the map depicted, managing not to melt off your horse in the meantime. It really was unbearably hot.

Arthur stopped his horse next to the tree, studying it. It was definitely the right one—a low limb stuck straight out of its side as if someone had shaped it into an arrow, pointing the way. The bridge behind it was the same one depicted on the map.

“How’d you know where to find this?”

Arthur got down off his horse to get a closer look. “Told you. I get around, note my surroundings. Unlike you.”

“Hey, if I didn’t note my surroundings, we wouldn’t have this map in the first place.”

He chuckled. “Sure.” Circling the whole tree, he studied it closely before getting back on his horse. “This way.”

“Where to?”

He didn’t answer, and you had half a mind to throw something at him. But when he slowed again, pointing out another tree with a funny limb, you pursed your lips.

“Ah. One with the land, he is.”

“Would you stop talking to your horse about me? It’s unseemly.”

“Like you don’t talk to your horse.”

“I talk to my horse plenty. I don’t gossip.”

You laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

Arthur shot you a look before moving on, finding another tree, then another. The map showed the first tree in the foreground, a river beside it, and finally a group of trees that had been burned. So far, the latter two weren’t revealing themselves. That is, until you followed where the last tree had been pointing and found a river snaking by the hillside, sparkling in the hot sunshine.

“Think that’s the one we’re looking for?”

Arthur considered. “Has to be. See that rock in the stream there?” He nodded toward said rock, the same one depicted on the map, and your excitement took hold at the sight of it—maybe all this sweating and waiting would pay off.

You trotted past him before he could start, taking the lead.

“Where you going?”

“I don’t need you anymore,” you teased. “Go right on home, leave the real work to them as can handle it.”

“Like hell I am,” he said with a snort, catching up to ride alongside you.

After crossing the small river, your horses climbed the hill on the other side, coming out onto a worn path.

“That cluster of dead trees seemed to be on a hilltop,” Arthur offered. You looked ahead of you, across the path, to the steep hill that ran upward and nearly out of sight behind the trees.

“Up it is,” you said, leading again. This was a harder hill for your horse to take, but you were soon very high, overlooking the rocky landscape. There was a small settlement just south, one you had never come across before. The people milling about were wild for doing anything other than resting with this heat bearing down on them.

“Butcher Creek,” Arthur said, inclining his head toward it.

“Hm.” You turned, needing for this to be over. Needing to be back in camp with your head dunked in a barrel of water.

Climbing higher still, going north on a small path that snaked through the grass, the pair of you finally came out on the very trees the map depicted. They were all burnt and gnarled, without many limbs to speak of. As if something powerful had snapped them all off.

“Did a fire do this?” you asked, slowing your approach.

“Looks more like lightning to me.”

“Lightning?” As soon as you said it, you felt a shift in the air, a slight breeze where the air had been stiff as hot death a moment before. You looked toward the sky but saw no foul weather to speak of. Your horse still shifted uncomfortably beneath you, something it only ever did during said weather. “Strange,” you muttered, getting off your horse to follow Arthur.

He had approached the trees, looking between their deadened trunks for any sign of something left behind on the ground. There wasn’t much to look for—it was a tiny spot of land, very few trunks left standing in the small patch of rock and infertile ground.

“What are we looking for?” you asked him, knocking against the first tree you came to, checking for hollowness.

“I ain’t too sure. That bit on the back didn’t make much sense to me.” This meaning the back of the map which had a tiny scrawling of words on it. You tried to recall them from memory.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

Arthur figured this was more nonsense than anything, but you hadn’t brushed it off entirely. “Utter the word,” you mumbled under your breath. Maybe there was a word carved into a tree. You began your search for such a thing when you felt that breeze again, the whispering touch of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You looked up when the wind began moving the tree leaves like a promise of an oncoming storm. But there was still a cloudless sky, the sun bearing down its relentless beat. If it weren’t for the trees moving, you would think you were going mad.

“You feel that?” You looked to Arthur.

“Feel what?”

“That wind.”

“Yeah.” Abandoning his crouching search of the ground, he stood tall, taking in his surroundings. “We’re up pretty high.”

“Still strange.” You looked over at your horse, the way it stepped around unsettled. “This may sound stupid but…lightning can’t strike unless it’s cloudy, right?”

Arthur shot you an unamused look.

“I’m serious. My horse never acts that way.” You pointed to it, drawing his attention. The animal was beginning to get beyond the point of wanting to listen despite Arthur’s horse standing firm beside it. It wouldn’t be long until your mount lost its tether to the ground and ran from whatever was giving it such a fright.

You made for it with hands held up and voice low. “Easy,” you hummed, trying to calm it. The closer you got, the more the horse tip toed away, the whites of its eyes beginning to show. And still, that strange wind picked up. “Easy there,” you repeated. It was useless. The horse finally got scared enough to move, stepping away from you.

“What’re you doing to it?” Arthur said as he approached. “You best grab the reins before it-”

The horse bolted before he could finish the sentence. “Shit. Hey!” you yelled after it. It had never acted so spooky before, especially not toward you. But there it was, galloping into the trees so fast you knew it would take Arthur’s horse to catch it. You set your hands on your hips and let out a sigh. “This treasure better be goddamn worth it.” You looked to Arthur, but when you did, something else caught your eye. Your horse had led you over to a new vantage from which to view the dead trees. And the gnarled trunks all fit together, almost like…

“Look at that,” you told Arthur, pointing to them. He turned, and the wind gave a bellowing howl. It was so strange, such a loud noise for such cloudless weather. Normally wind like that, a cold wind through all this heat no less, signaled rain. But you couldn’t focus on that, not when your heart began to race from the sight before you. “The trees. They look like- well…” Maybe you were reaching. You didn’t want Arthur to think you’d gone as crazy as your horse. But still, that poem on the back of the map talked about a word.

“I see it,” he said. “They spell…”

“Why.” You said it together. And the second you did, the wind drew back in a breath, as if in retreat. Then the sky exploded.

You cowered and fell, knowing nothing but deafening noise and blinding light, entirely disoriented. You held onto the ground beneath your fingers as the howl of wind was swallowed by a crack so loud it tore against your ears. Then there was heat, unfathomable heat. Scorching your skin and any remaining senses you had. Before you could even think to run for your life, all went black.

~

You moved your eyes around, not opening them. You hurt all over. So much that your entire body felt heavy. You tried to move but groaned in pain. Only, the sound that met your ears was entirely wrong. Your eyes shot open. And before you was…you. On the ground, feet away. Unconscious.

“What the-” You stopped dead at the sound of your voice. At how deep it was. “No…” You looked down to find Arthur’s shirt on your body. No. Arthur’s body. “What the hell?” Arthur’s voice came rumbling out with your every word. “I-” You couldn’t think of what to do. Couldn’t think. You fought through your pain and started crawling, heading for your body sprawled out on the ground. You were dead. You had died. From the looks of the burnt up ground, you’d gotten struck by lightning. But the sky remained relentlessly blue, so at odds with the horror of what you saw before you.

You finally reached yourself, unable to process how strange that was as you reached out with Arthur’s hand and touched your body. Immediately, you jolted awake.

“What’s- what the hell?” You could only stare at yourself, unbelieving, as your own eyes went wide at the sight of Arthur. Of you in Arthur’s body.

“I’m…” You were completely at a loss. How could you be alive in two different bodies? How could you be alive at all?

“You’re me.” The words coming out of your mouth…you had to think hard to come up with who was who, with what that meant.

“Arthur?” you asked lowly.

“How did this happen?” You looked unnaturally still when you said it. When Arthur said it. His mannerisms on your body were absurdly strange.

“I…” You could hardly fight the words out. You could hardly believe what you were seeing. Maybe you had died. “The lightning. The trees.”

At the mention, you looked to the dead trees out from under the brim of Arthur’s hat. They stood there as unassuming as ever, the cloudless sky as still as it had been on the ride up here, the scorching heat returned.

You heard Arthur turn to look at them too but didn’t watch, unsettled by the sight of yourself.

“How the hell did lightning strike us? It’s clear as a bell out here.” You had the sudden urge to laugh, hearing Arthur’s anger pour out in your voice. It sounded ridiculous.

“Beats me,” you answered. “How am I you? Why am I you?” You met your own eyes once more. And the feeling was still so wrong that you tried to stand just to have something to do with yourself. You were weak, like you had taken one hell of a beating. But moving was different. Arthur’s body was considerably stronger than yours. Finally reaching your feet, you looked down from a taller height, noticing every inch of how different you felt for the first time. For one thing, you were a man now. So that was how it felt, standing around with something between your legs. You shifted back and forth on your feet, getting used to it.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” You looked to yourself, to Arthur, and smiled.

“What?”

“Don’t move your hips around like that. It looks ridiculous.”

“What, like this?” you said, shaking your hips back and forth. The sheer weight of his body was an adjustment, your balance catching.

“For the love of-” He grimaced like he normally did, only it looked laughable on you.

“Don’t scowl like that,” you said, still smiling. “I never scowl.”

“Yeah, well, I do,” he said, standing. When he managed it, you did laugh, the sound of Arthur’s rare mirthful laughter piercing the air. You were so short. How had you never noticed how small you were compared to Arthur? “What?” he spat.

“You’re just- you’re so little.”

“And you’re an ugly bastard.”

“Hey! I am not. In fact, I’d say I look pretty good like this.” You posed with chin held high, knowing how much it would irk him.

You immediately felt his—no, your—hands on you as he shoved you. “Cut that out.”

Your grin widened. “Make me.”

You could tell it was taking all his will not to pounce on you. But even he knew it was useless, as tiny as he was probably feeling right now.

“Forget it,” he said with a dismissal wave. “How do we fix this?” He looked to the trees and made for them, trudging up the hill.

You followed, noting how large your stride was. How weird it felt to walk with something between your legs. “Who says we have to fix it?”

“I do,” he snapped. “I ain’t getting stuck like this.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, your words in Arthur’s voice sounding just as laughable. He would never say something so eagerly. “It ain’t so bad.”

“For you maybe.”

You stopped, crossing your arms. It drew his attention.

“What?” he said on a sigh. “And stop standing like that. You’re standing like a woman.”

“You don’t have to be so hateful towards me. I know being me isn’t all that grand, but you don’t have to throw it in my face.”

His expression faltered. Just barely. But you knew your own face well enough to spot it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbled, turning back to the trees.

You rolled your eyes. Then cracked a grin when you had a sudden idea.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. Let’s go a day like this, see how well you can handle being a woman in a man’s world.”

“No,” he said flatly, looking to the trees again. “Where’d that damn wind go?”

“Seems to have left,” you said with a shrug. “May be stuck like this.”

“This all just a joke to you, is it?”

“It’s certainly amusing enough. Remind me not to get too angry by the way. It’s more cute than it is intimidating.”

When he didn’t respond, you just smiled and turned, making for his horse. It had run a short ways away, likely when lightning had rained down from the cloudless heavens. If it had even been lightning at all. If it weren’t for you walking in Arthur’s boots, you would think none of it had happened in the first place.

You reached Arthur’s horse, the animal nuzzling your hand fondly, not recognizing you weren’t its owner. “There,” you said lowly, liking the sound of your deep voice.

“Hey! What the hell you think you’re doing?” Arthur shouted.

“I think I’ll go for a ride, see what a day in the life of Arthur Morgan’s like.”

“Are you crazy? You’re staying here until we figure this out.

“No, I ain’t crazy. And I’d like to see you stop me.”

Arthur’s hand twitched beside the gun on your hip, like it always did when he was agitated. You barked a laugh. “You gonna shoot me? Shoot yourself?”

“I’m fighting the urge.”

“Really,” you said, beginning to get annoyed. “It’s not that bad. Just give it one damn day, then we can figure this out, go back to being ourselves.”

“I don’t want to. And I don’t want you to. You’ll get me killed, parading around like that.”

“Like what?”

“Swinging your- my hips around. I’ll get shot on sight. Hell, your mouth’ll probably get me shot up if that don’t.”

“Your mouth’s about to get you shot up just fine,” you said flatly, mounting his horse. He was still far enough away that you didn’t have to worry about him catching up. “Enjoy finding my horse after all that lightning.” You smiled through his protests and kicked his horse into a run, riding swiftly away, no longer hampered down by the sweltering heat thanks to your newfound optimism and purpose.

Riding a horse was strange now, having to adjust to Arthur’s heavy-set body. When the town of Van Horn came into view, you were relieved for two reasons, the first being that you’d managed to stay in the saddle. The second rendered you unable to contain your smile. How different it would be to waltz up to the bar, to know other men eyed you with intimidation instead of perversion. Well, maybe waltz was a bad word. Arthur was right about that much—you had to do a better job of playing the part or risk getting him killed. Getting yourself killed. But you had known Arthur long enough to know how to imitate him well enough. All it took was a grimace and averted eyes, walking like you were a bow-legged cowboy. How hard could it really be?

A half hour later, you got your answer. Being a man was the easy part. Being a man like Arthur was where things muddied. Apparently, he drew attention to himself just by being. He was a big guy, and no doubt unfamiliar in these parts. A few nasty looks in your direction was all it took for you to keep his hat slung low over your eyes. No wonder he did that so often.

“What say you and me go have a little fun?”

Never having heard a question like that directed at you, it took you a beat to realize the woman by the bar who said it was asking you. Or Arthur.

You looked to her, trying to hide your surprise. “Maybe another time.” You were almost sure you’d heard Arthur say that before. But it didn’t stop the color from rising to your face.

“No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I’ll treat you real gentle.”

Sure she would. Oblivious to who hid under Arthur’s skin all the while. “No, but thank you.”

“Uh huh,” she said tauntingly. “You just let me know if you change your mind.” She walked away, and her words suddenly had your mind turning furiously. What would it feel like to have sex in a man’s body? Just as the thought reached you, the saloon doors slammed open. And in walked you. The sight still made you uneasy.

“You,” Arthur said, his tone in your voice drawing the attention of a few of the other patrons.

One whistled. “You better run, partner. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that gaze.”

Arthur heard this and shot him daggers too. It was much less intimidating on your face than his, but it shut the man up all the same. He walked straight to you and took your arm. “We’re leaving.”

You yanked it away. “Hold on, now. I just got here.”

He stepped in close, still so much shorter than you that you almost had to duck to hear. “Don’t go making a scene,” he hissed.

“I ain’t,” you said quietly. Then, leaning back on the bar, “Besides, I got a new friend over there.” You held the woman’s eyes who had called out to you, smiling in that charming way Arthur could.

“Quit it,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “Those women’ll eat you alive.”

“Maybe I’d like that,” you mumbled, just loud enough that he heard.

“Are you insane?”

“No,” you said, turning around to face the bar, speaking lowly so no one would hear. “And like you ain’t thought about it.”

“About what?”

“About sex. About how it would feel in my body.”

You swore you saw a tinge of redness on your own face. But Arthur charged through his embarrassment like a bull. “No, I ain’t thought about it. This ain’t my body to do what I please with.”

You scoffed. “Now isn’t the time for chivalry, my friend. This is a once in a lifetime gig. You really want to waste it?”

He sighed, tugging on your arm, pulling you toward the door. “Come on.”

You gave in, knowing it was better than letting Arthur cause a scene. As much as he liked to claim you would be the one to do it, you knew damn well it would be him attracting all the attention. And now that he was sporting around a woman’s body, he could slap you as hard as he liked without consequence. You weren’t about to give him the chance.

“Where we going, then?” you asked when you passed through the swinging doors. Your horse was hitched beside Arthur’s, calm once more. You went up to love on it only to see the animal cut you a sideways glance, pinning its ears. You had momentarily forgotten. “Give my horse a little love, would you? Doesn’t like other people.”

“Pipe down with all that,” Arthur spat. You rolled your eyes. Like anyone in this town would ever have the brain power to realize you and Arthur had switched bodies. “Here,” Arthur said, feeding your horse a treat and giving it a few pats on the neck. “Now then, I say we head back to figure out where that wind came from. We don’t know how long we could be stuck like this if we leave it be.”

You groaned aloud then stopped yourself, knowing how wrong it sounded coming from Arthur. “Why you gotta be so uptight about this? Let’s let loose, have a little fun.”

“I don’t think you’re getting how serious this is.”

“I am. It happened. And it could just as easily un-happen. Relax, would you?”

He sighed in frustration before lowering his voice. “You want to be me so bad? Fine. But I’m getting a room and locking you in it so you don’t get us both killed.”

“I won’t get us killed, Arthur. Since when don’t you trust me?”

“Since you decided to parade me around like that,” he snapped. “Since you started making eyes at other women. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Like hell you didn’t. “Fine,” you said, storming away from him. Your longer stride had him struggling to keep up with you as you made for the mail courier.

“Where you going now?” he asked, your voice taking on a desperate edge.

You didn’t answer, treating him like he always treated you. It was enormously satisfying.

You stepped up to the window and asked for a room, throwing your money down on the counter. It took one look of your pointed anger for the man before you to cower. Damn, did you wish you could make people shrink like that on a regular basis. You rounded, pushing through Arthur like he wasn’t even there. This body had its advantages. You were beginning to understand why Arthur wanted it back so badly.

You stole upstairs and pushed in the door. You were halfway to slamming it in Arthur’s face when he caught it, your own fragile little hand catching on the edge.

“Excuse me?” he said, pushing through it and shutting it behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“You,” you said, sitting down on the bed and turning away from him to shake off some of your anger. “Treating me like a damn child. You never do that.”

“I’m not- I don’t mean to be that way. There’s just…a lot at stake.”

“Yeah, your precious body. I get it.”

“No, it ain’t that.” He sighed, an exaggerated sound. He didn’t talk for so long you looked at him. He had your hands resting on your gun belt like he always did to his. He finally met your eye and said slowly, “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

You scoffed. “What, with that woman back in the saloon? Arthur, you know I’m not that stupid.”

He hesitated. “So you didn’t…”

You narrowed your eyes. His eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You shook your head, turning away again, getting one of Arthur’s guns out to admire it. To take your mind off the idiot at your back. “I’d just turned the woman down before you got there. If that’s what’s bothering you.”

“That’s not…” Arthur said, trailing off. Obviously not wanting to breach the subject of you using his body for your own pleasure.

You relieved him of the burden. “Just drop it. I’ll stay here locked up like a good girl, and we’ll go figure this out in the morning.”

He had the audacity to laugh, and you shot him a sideways glance. He was smirking, your mouth angled upward sharply. “For the love of god, don’t call yourself a good girl in my body. It sounds ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help the corner of your mouth turning upward in response. It was comical how different you were, the glaring differences coming out in speech and mannerism and thought.

“I am a good girl,” you grumbled, and he told you to quit it while laughing outright this time. The sound of your own laughter was strange, like something you had only ever heard muffled before. Now that it was clear and unobstructed, it was smooth. Pretty. It made you smile.

Arthur pointed to the weapon still in your hands. “Put that away, would you? Don’t want you getting any ideas.”

The small weight in your hands was so strange—you had held one of Arthur’s guns before. His were much improved from a regular Cattleman and heavier as a result. But his hands swamped the weapon now, and it felt as light as your own as you cradled it, the power in your hands alone remarkable.

You tucked the gun back in its holster, laying back on the bed. Well, attempting to. “Shit.” You looked to your feet hanging over the edge.

Arthur chuckled. “Move up some. You’ll get used to it.”

You did as he said before eyeing him. He had nowhere to sit.

“You, uh…can sit, or…”

He waved you off. “I’m fine. Thinking about going for a beer. You want one?”

You lit up at that. “You ain’t locking me up then?”

“Oh no, I definitely am. I meant I’ll bring one back for you if you want.”

You scoffed, turning away. Even that slight motion had the bed groaning beneath you from the weight of his body. “Forget it.”

He just laughed, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“You know, you’re damn lucky I listen to you. Otherwise I’d be down at that saloon with my tongue down some poor girl’s throat by now.”

You met his eye just quick enough to see the blush on your face he tried to hide. “No you wouldn’t.” He was right. You weren’t that kind of woman, really. But such a dramatic change had rendered you enlivened, if a little reckless.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, turning away again. “Bring me a beer then.”

You heard the door snap shut and closed your eyes, noting every inch of unfamiliar body lying flat on the bed. You felt a sudden surge of jealousy so harsh, wishing for a heartbeat you had been born a man. Then again, that might have been because you were attracted to men. Enamored by their muscled bodies, their strength. Arthur was certainly those things. You had never quite thought of him as someone you were attracted to. Partially because he was such an annoying fool, but mainly because you had never allowed yourself to think it. Your friendship was a good thing in a hard life, and you didn’t want to wreck it. That didn’t stop you from wanting to explore every inch of his body.

You let that thought swirl away before it could do any damage, thinking instead of how exactly this had all come about in the first place. A lightning storm in broad daylight. You had no doubt it was what the little poem on the map alluded to.

See the sight Utter the word With blinding light It will be heard

The lightning had struck the moment you and Arthur said ‘why.’ The only thing you couldn’t understand was how on earth that rendered your consciousnesses switched. Maybe that was the joke—the why of it all. Whoever had penned that map was a cruel person indeed.

How you hadn’t died upon contact was another thing entirely. Almost as if the lightning had never really existed in the first place. Maybe you were imagining it all, still knocked out cold on the ground. Or dead. That soured your mood enough that you went back to thinking about Arthur’s body. At least it was a more pleasant thing to consider.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached downward, skimming against coarse muscle all the way down. Christ, did he have to be built so powerfully? Years of work and being on the run tended to instill strength in a man, but this was ridiculous.

You brushed those thick fingers of his against the top edge of his pants, hesitating, debating touching what you really wanted to touch on him. It would be overstepping, you knew. The man had a right to some privacy. But god, did you want to know what every aspect of being a man felt like. Desperately. So you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching down, touching the still clothed part of him that immediately reacted to the contact of his heavy hand. Reacted in a way that made you loose a breath the very second you heard the door handle turn. You panicked, scrambling to throw your too-long legs over the side of the bed and sit up. You watched your body step back into the room, Arthur’s suspicion edging onto your face when he saw how quickly you had moved.

“Forgot to…get my money from you,” he said with narrowed eyes, nodding toward the satchel wrapped around you.

“Oh,” you said, entirely too eager to use the excuse to move and cover your blunder. You reached in his satchel and fingered through countless things you couldn’t put a name to. The bills were stuck in the bottom and you dragged them out, handing them over in a too-clenched first. Arthur eyed the money, then you.

“What?” you asked. You knew better. Really should have stayed quiet.

“Why you acting so funny?”

“I’m not.” You prayed it came off as relaxed, though you couldn’t be sure how it would look on Arthur’s face.

“Really?” he said, entirely unconvinced. “Why’d you jump a mile when I came in then?”

You felt your face heat. You looked away, tipping his hat down to hide your blush.

“I know that move,” he said accusatorially. “Tell me.”

You took a long breath, not knowing what the hell to say. What could you? I was in the middle of touching you, Arthur? In the middle of doing something you just told me you wouldn’t dare do to my body without permission? It was wrong, and you knew it. You couldn’t tell him.

He broke the silence, stepping toward you. “Tell me.” It was every bit Arthur, that commanding presence he held coming through your own voice somehow. It made you cower further, if that was even possible. It was…ungodly attractive, him wielding your body like his very own weapon. Demanding.

The thought had your blood rushing downward, much like it did in your own body. But this was different. This was all-consuming, blocking all thought. And when his manhood began to strain against his pants—your pants—you panicked and spoke.

“Forget it,” you said, still hiding your face, trying to calm yourself down. It was impossible. All you could think about was the need building within you, worse than you’d ever felt as a woman as it couldn’t seem to be reversed. You didn’t know how obvious it would be to adjust yourself in front of him but felt the need to. Or else he would notice exactly what was plaguing you before you could say another word.

He stepped toward you suddenly, and you moved to wave him off. “I’m fine, I-” Too much movement. Entirely too much. Your pants brushed against you, and you grew harder still. Goddamn did it feel so strange, so different, but the desire to make it go away was getting hard to fight off. You knew why too, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, though the thought flashed through your mind anyway—Arthur’s body. This was Arthur’s body, and the fact that he was so aroused somehow turned you on. Which in turn resulted in your predicament worsening every second. You let out a shaky breath.

He laughed, the sound out of place enough for you to finally meet his eye. He was staring at your pants, at his own crotch. He knew.

“Dead to rights, I’m afraid,” he said. “I weren’t gone a minute. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Shame filled every inch of you. “I didn’t- it’s worse now than it-”

He held up a hand, making your words fall away. “Save it. I ain’t mad. Should have figured, really, how you were talking at the bar.”

“I’m sorry,” you said desperately. “It’s your body, like you said. Ain’t up to me to do as I please with it.”

He chuckled, that charming smile of his somehow working its way onto your face. “It’s fine. You’re just…” He shook his head. “As I said, I should have figured. You being you.”

You normally would have jumped at him over saying that but couldn’t, not when your words were suddenly lodged in your throat. Because he was fine with this. He was okay with you touching him. And the thought had more arousal than before consuming you, enough that your focus was blurring between him in your body and you in his.

He started. “I’ll, uh, leave you be if-”

“No, don’t do that,” you said in a panic.

You watched a smile curve up the side of your face. “What, can’t keep your hands to yourself when I’m away?”

“God, don’t talk like that,” you breathed.

“Why? Turn you on?”

To keep your jaw from dropping, you grabbed his hat and rammed it down farther, hiding your beet red face behind it. Christ alive.

He laughed and moved to the door. “I’m gonna step out. Do whatever you need to, I don’t mind.”

“No.” You were firm on that. You had already overstepped once. You wouldn’t do it again. No matter how much you wanted to.

You looked over at him. He stood at the door, your body so calm and still like only he could make it. He looked at you expectantly, and you realized he was waiting on you to say something, to explain.

“Can you…” You couldn’t finish that question.

“Can I what?” His smile was wicked, your face carved up with it.

“Jesus, Arthur, why do you have to make this so hard?”

“Make what hard? You?”

There was nothing within arms reach to throw, but if there had been, he would already be ducking. He sensed this and kept talking through a laugh. “All right, all right. Relax. I’m just needling you.” He stepped closer. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Make it go away.”

He smiled, smugness mixed with a bit of shyness. “I can make it go away all right. But…you sure you want that?”

You panicked slightly. You meant go away as in help calm yourself, not help find your release. But now that he was offering…

“Yes,” you said, so quietly his low voice almost didn’t speak it. You couldn’t believe you admitted it, uttered it aloud.

He gave you a long, unreadable look. Then, after long enough that you were holding your breath, “Okay then.” He stepped forward slowly, his sheepishness finally seeming to catch up to him. “You want…me to show you or…”

Your heart thrummed. “No.” It was in that very moment you knew what you wanted. That it became glaringly real between you—finding your pleasure not only as Arthur, but with Arthur.

You reached for him and were pulling your own body down on top of you before you could form another thought. He made a noise of surprise, but you didn’t hesitate. Not when the weight of him landed atop you and you had to resist the urge to buck your hips into the newfound pressure.

He couldn’t say a word before you crashed your lips to his, keeping your eyes shut tight all the while. You didn’t want to think about kissing your own mouth, only that this was Arthur you were kissing, that maybe you had been wanting to do this all along. Under more normal circumstances.

He broke away. “You…”

“Just shut up,” you said, the low timbre of Arthur’s voice rumbling through your chest as you pulled him to you, kissing him so forcefully his hat fell off your head.

He pulled back again, unable to resist running his mouth. “This is…so strange.” And it was. It was odd to feel yourself against you, but you couldn’t care. Not when this was Arthur’s body reacting so sensitively to it. You wanted to touch yourself, to feel how to wring each ounce of pleasure from him. But you didn’t—couldn’t—because you had pulled him down on top of you, and Arthur started moving back and forth against your thigh. It drove you wild.

You looked down and watched as he propped himself up, making your mouth fall open in his pleasure. Maybe it was because you knew exactly what that would feel like rocking against him, but you felt your—his—cock twitch in response, straining. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You used your newfound strength and flipped him underneath you, surprised to feel how weightless you were under his touch. You laid against him and moved. And god, was it your undoing.

Your mouth found his as you kissed him unforgivingly, grinding against him. The immediate arousal was unshakable. Lightning to the touch. Winding you up so tight you groaned, the sound coming out ragged and deep.

“Easy,” he said, your own breathy voice sounding right into your mouth. “If you want to last, that is.”

That made you hesitate. “You want…me to-”

“Do what you want, I’m just saying,” he interrupted. That was a terrible answer. Because it left it up to you. And as it stood, you wanted to feel each and every way a man could pleasure a woman.

“You sure?” you asked softly. And Arthur’s voice saying those words…

“Yes, I’m sure. And faster than this. Your body has needs too, you know.”

You kissed him, biting his lip for the cheek. He let out a low moan in return.

You continued to grind against him but held yourself up with one strong hand, trailing your fingers down his skin. “I can teach you something about those needs,” you said lowly. Every caress of Arthur’s aroused voice on your ears sent grating pleasure shooting downward.

You moved down and tore your own gun belt away, then your pants, knowing these were the pair that were baggy enough to do it. You made to pleasure your own body beneath your underthings, to make Arthur squirm beneath you, when he spoke.

“I know how to pleasure a woman just fine-” You had brought your thumb down on your clit. And Arthur let his head fall back, his eyes shutting tight. Your thumb was now noticeably bigger, but that didn’t stop you from knowing what to do with it. You dragged it around torturously slow, making his—your—chest heave and fall. You brought your mouth down to your clothed nipple. Normally, this would feel like an odd thing to do, but for some reason it seemed like any other thing. You didn’t care that it was your body. You cared that it was Arthur you were showing all this pleasure to. Arthur taking it all, Arthur helping you find an edge you were dangerously near.

You sat up and tore the rest of your clothes away, leaving him completely bare. You watched as Arthur looked down, admiring you. His head fell against the bed once more as he groaned softly, his hand moving toward your entrance. You wanted that so badly his cock strained again. You wanted to watch him touch you, watch what he would do to you.

You bent down and pressed a kiss to his arm in encouragement. Then he brought his hand low, finally running his fingers along right where you wanted him to. The image of you touching yourself was doing something to Arthur’s body you couldn’t contain. Wild, unbridled need. But that was Arthur’s mouth going slack when he felt your wetness on his fingers, Arthur reveling in how you felt because of him.

You let him do as he wanted and kissed him again, wanting to feel him against you. You knew better than to move your hips against him now—you were wound tight as a coil, and doing so would end this quickly.

He broke away from your kiss, having to take a breath when he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. You went for his neck instead, kissing and licking and mouthing. You wanted him to find his pleasure, wanted him to feel what an orgasm was like in a woman’s body for the sole reason that you could bring him to that precipice over and over and over again—something he couldn’t do quite as fast being a man.

You took his mouth again, demanding. Wanting to work him up into an irreversible need. You knew just what your body craved and knew how to get him there. So you refused to let him away from your mouth, especially when you brought your hand down to drag his own away, using Arthur’s fingers instead. They were bigger, and he let out a moan right into your mouth when you sunk two in at once, right down to the knuckle.

He was trying to breathe, trying to keep his head, but you kept kissing him, pushing his head down into the bed in your fervor. You pumped your fingers in and out slowly, dragging them against your walls just like you liked it. You wished you could feel this yourself, his thick fingers inside of you.

He mumbled something incomprehensible, so you let him take a breath, pulling away just so.

He was a flustered mess. His breathing was heavy, his eyes were blown wide with desire, and damn it all if you couldn’t see Arthur below the surface. Because you could, his mannerisms making you want to take him then and there when they sprawled across your face in deep need.

“What was that?” you said, curling your fingers just right, dragging them slowly still.

“You’re gonna…make me…”

“Come all you want,” you told him. He groaned. You kissed him once more, your tongue tangling with his.

You knew yourself well enough to know you were close, but this wouldn’t get you there. So you quickened your pace, pressing deeper, his beautiful fingers doing more than yours could.

He was panting then, something you didn’t normally do. All Arthur, his pleasure on the brink. So you let his mouth be and ducked your head, latching your mouth around your own nipple in a way that had his back arching. You ran your tongue against him, a slight scrape of your teeth. All the while, you fucked your fingers in deep and fast. Then faster. Then harder. Until you noticed his hands had clasped around your veined forearm, holding on for some kind of tether to keep him from losing himself entirely.

You worked your breast with his tongue, scraping a demanding pull against it, and he snapped.

He let out an exasperated noise somewhere between a feminine moan and and all-out groan. Definitely Arthur. You had never made that noise in your life. The lines between you were blurring.

You released your hold on your breast and watched him, watched your face screw up in pleasure in a way that only he could make it look. You kept pace, using your hand to work him over thoroughly. And you suddenly understood how good this was, making a woman reach her pleasure first. Waiting, basking in this, it was the perfect thing for you right now in the needy state you were in.

He moaned and panted and moved against you but took it all, wanting it all. How strange it must feel, after years of a man’s pleasure. How much more delicate and precise it was.

You finally brought your hand away, smirking at him. “How was that?”

“This was supposed to be about helping you,” he said breathlessly.

“And?”

“And that was goddamn perfect.”

“Good. I do know my own body well. Which is why this,” you said, setting the pad of his thick thumb back to your clit. He squirmed, still coming down from his high. “Is going to make you see stars.”

You moved your thumb, and he let out another groan too deep for your voice. You swirled fast shapes, criss-crossing against that sensitive nub. He was panting and writhing and trying to get away from your touch, and you boxed him in and held his lower body down. It was harsh pleasure, enough that you could almost feel it yourself. You certainly wanted to, if you ever got your body back. Now he knew the ropes. Or you would happily show them to him a second time.

In half a minute, he was so close that you got your balance right and plunged the fingers of your other hand inside, pumping fast as you worked him with your thumb. He yelled this time—actually yelled out his pleasure. And it was your own high-pitched moan that filled the room, something rougher about it. Baser. You continued your abuse of him until he was writhing to get away, whining each breath.

“There,” you said low, his own voice making you ache with desire. You slowed down your pace before finally withdrawing your hands.

You knew what came next, and you were…well, nervous. You knew what your body liked, but this next bit would be your own pleasure swallowing you whole. In an entirely unfamiliar sense.

He heaved in each breath, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re telling me…you can feel that…as many times as you want.”

“Back to back,” you assured him. “I can make you do it again if you-”

“No,” he said, grabbing your hands to be sure you wouldn’t. “No,” he said more calmly. Then, “Your turn.”

He turned, forcing you to lie on your back. Your nerves flared when you watched him reach for your clothes. But just as you had, he knew what he was doing with his own body. You just got to sit back and watch.

He didn’t bother undressing you entirely, just stripped his satchel and gun belt, unbuttoned his pants and pulled them back along with his undergarments. And you watched with bated breath as he prepared to touch you for the first time, or touch himself, and god, you couldn’t think which was hotter. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was when your tiny hand finally wrapped around his cock. The touch alone was enough to send pleasure through your veins so severe you knew you would have to pace yourself. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling it down slowly. He wrapped it around that impressive length of his, now so achingly hard you had to clench your jaw, and wrapped his own hand around yours. Guiding you.

“Move slow,” he said quietly. His words drew your eyes, and you noted him straddling you before your gaze landed on your small hand around his big one, beginning to stroke his cock together. The sight alone would be your undoing. But the feel of it…

Your head fell back with that image branded into your memory as you stroked yourself. He guided you in pressure more than pace. And you understood better how to keep from hurting a man, being too harsh or too rough against his skin. It was hedonism. Where a woman’s pleasure was finicky but explosive when found, a man’s pleasure was immediate. Constant. Unbearable.

You groaned aloud. Arthur was quieter, less forceful than you had been with him. You couldn’t tell if it was because his body preferred it that way or if he was nervous to bring you to that edge. Either way, it was…torturously good.

He guided you along a little faster, making deep, long strokes all the way down to his base. That was where it felt the best. You tucked that piece of information away. He went faster still, and you pulled your hand away to keep your climax at bay, making him stop and look at you.

“I…want to do this proper.”

His eyes glittered with arousal. You didn’t know how he would feel about it, being on the receiving end. But you wanted to bury his cock so deep inside you he would cry out from it. That much you knew.

He took a moment to answer. Then, “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” you asked. “You’ve been quiet about that.”

He thought on it. Then climbed over you, lining your body up with his. “You really wanna know?”

You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive. For his touch and his words.

“I want my body back. So I can show you all this pleasure myself.”

You clenched your jaw again, your breath quickening. Lord above, did you want that. So much.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

“Really?” he asked, his hand finding you and lining you up with him.

You tried hard to keep focus and watch him as you nodded. “Maybe I…have for a while.” And you had been too damn stubborn to admit it to yourself. Too worried about friendship and lines crossed.

He hesitated. “Me too.” He said it quieter than you had.

Without leaving you any room to answer, he sat, the feeling of pressing into him unlike anything. Your mind went numb. Blank. You looked down and watched where your bodies met, watched him hesitate for a breath before sitting fully, throwing his head back in pleasure when you were joined completely.

Again, it was different. Whereas you would have only wanted him as deep as possible in your body, every inch of you was overcome with feeling now. It was grating.

Arthur started a pace that was much too fast for all you were feeling, so you brought your hands to his hips and slowed him down.

“Move like this,” you whispered, helping him grind slowly back to front, so that his cock never left that sweet spot deep within you.

He fell forward, chasing his pleasure. Then slowed to look at you, almost apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you told him. “Find your pleasure first. I won’t stand this for long.”

It was true. You wanted to bury his cock deep, spill in your body. The thought alone made him twitch.

Arthur continued his brutal grind, making you groan so deep you worried you would come. But you held yourself back, barely. And he was making smaller movements, slowing, taking all of you in a way you knew meant his release was nearing.

You wanted to touch him again, kiss him, but you let him be. You knew how good it felt just the way he was circling his hips and nothing more. So you resisted, and you watched as your own mouth fell open in deep pleasure. Arthur came a third time. It wasn’t like the others. He came around you this time, the smallest tightening and fluttering of those delicate muscles of yours making you hold your breath so as not to find your own pleasure. He was soon panting, moaning, beautiful little sounds. Sounds you wanted to make for him.

He finally stopped, leaning back. “My god.”

“What?” Your hands moved from his hips to his ass. That was an odd thing—almost like Arthur’s body had wanted that, not you.

“Just…different. Perfect.”

You smiled at him, keeping your patience held by a thread. Still buried deep in him, that was quite the task. He seemed to realize this and looked down at you, and before you knew you wanted to say them, words came tumbling out of you. “I want to know what it feels like to…find my pleasure inside of you.”

He scrunched your eyebrows together in an expression only he ever made.

“Just this once,” you whispered.

He was silent a moment. Then, “You sure about that?”

“I’m willing to risk it. If you are.”

He thought again, eyes studying his own mouth. Finally, he met your gaze. “All right then.”

You felt the smile creep over your face, your giddiness returning. Faster than he could react, you had lifted his hips, pulling him off of you. He made a small noise at the movement—one you knew well, the feeling of loss of touch a bitter thing—but you were too busy moving him underneath you to care. You laid him softly on the bed, taking a moment to see those eyes of yours on you, before getting up. You started stripping his clothes away, needing to finish this completely bare. You brought his shirt away first, the broad chest beneath such a handsome sight. Then his boots and socks, then pants. You couldn’t get his layers away fast enough, and when you were standing there staring down at yourself completely bare, you hesitated. His body was beautiful. His strong legs, his lean muscle, his cock pressed up against his belly. You couldn’t resist—you took his length in hand and began stroking him. It was so good you held back a groan. You looked up to crawl back onto the bed but found him watching, an expression of such greedy want on your own face that you couldn’t resist saying something. “Like watching me do this to you?” you said lowly, making your strokes longer, more noticeable.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your hand around his manhood.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, crawling back over him. Needing him now. “When we get our bodies back, it’ll be my own hand wrapped around you.”

He moaned. You laughed, the sound low and sensual. Finally, you were lining yourself up with him, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

He brought a hand to your shoulder. “Slow.”

“You keep saying that,” you teased, pushing into him. You wanted to be quick about it, to fuck him senseless, but you would do as he asked. You sank into him to the hilt, buried deep. Even though you’d just felt it, it was so good you stopped a moment, taking it in. You brought your head up and gave him a soft kiss, holding his eye for a breath. Then you moved. God above, was the pleasure insurmountable when you moved. Your walls wrapped around his cock so tight you kept letting out involuntary groans.

“Goddamn,” you breathed, bringing one hand to his hip, one to the back of his thigh. It took everything in you to keep the pace slow. Tortuously slow.

Arthur was not without his own pleasure too. His breathing was labored, the sounds he was letting out not unlike the ones you usually made. It made you want to slam into him, make him come around you again.

“Arthur,” you groaned. In warning. He didn’t answer. “Please let me fuck you.”

“Think you can handle that?” he said. Always a damn tease.

“Yes, you bastard.”

He laughed, the sound so like his own for it being in your voice. “Do it then.”

The second he said it, you pounded in deep, making him cry out. Making you grit your teeth. It was so good you couldn’t stand it. You quickened your pace and thrust into him hard, finally allowing your orgasm to build. And build. And consume you whole. You knew nothing but pleasure, like it was a part of you, as you fucked him harshly. You felt his balls go taught, his cock so hard and so sensitive inside your slick that you were letting your own noises work their way into Arthur’s voice.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed. Then he cried out, and you only knew he reached his pleasure for the familiar way your body went rigid, arching into his. You pounded into him, riding him through it, finally flying over the edge. Your orgasm overcame you in a rush of burning pleasure as you felt his spend spill deep inside. You slammed into him, unmoving. It was the best feeling you’d ever known. All of it drawn out right where you needed it most.

You held there breathlessly, pressed against him so intimately that the moment seemed frozen in time. But there he was, a mess beneath his own body. Because of his own body. Your cunt greedily taking his spend like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at the thought and pulled out, collapsing on your front beside him. So overwhelmed you just breathed, in and out. To remember what fucking planet you were on.

You closed your eyes, listening to his heavy breathing beside you. And after a moment, you were staring at the ceiling. No, you hadn’t moved. You opened your eyes and turned over, and Arthur was staring at the ceiling. That was off-putting. Like you had been yourself again for a heartbeat. You closed your eyes again to see if it would have the same effect, but nothing came to you. Only darkness and the after effects of one demanding high. That was strange too, different. How differently the male body worked, even the come down settling within you deep and constant. Maybe that was why women could bounce back so fast, men needing time to do it. In fact, you even felt tired, like nothing would suit your more than a good night’s rest. Arthur was likely the same. You had made him find his pleasure four times. Four times. You allowed yourself to wonder, just for a moment, if he could do that to you himself. You knew your own body well enough to get you to that place, but now he did too. You were willing to bet if this ever happened again, each of you in your respective bodies, that it would be just as mind-blowing as this had been. Maybe better.

“You okay?”

Your own voice was soft, careful in the dim room. From timidness or from tiredness, you couldn’t be sure.

You opened your eyes to find your face staring back at you, gaze heavy with satisfaction.

“More than okay.” You closed your eyes again. You wanted to be saying those words to Arthur. To his face, not yours. “You?”

“Hell, okay doesn’t cover it. That was…”

“Yeah,” you breathed, the word deep and drawn out. You adjusted yourself, facing him. “I’m sorry I sort of…forced this on you.”

He met your eye again, his own careful expression shining through. “You didn’t force anything.”

“I really did. But, you did too, cornering me like that. You just had to know what was wrong, didn’t you?” you said, grinning at him.

“I’m always that way,” he countered. “What’s your excuse?” He was the one grinning now.

You didn’t have a retort to that, knowing full well there wasn’t one. You had wanted him. Plain and simple.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and you gave him a small shove for it. It was a little too forceful coming from his strong hand, but he didn’t seem to mind, laughing at you instead. “You like being me, huh? Get to show me who’s boss, shove me around. Pin me down and such.”

The and such part was definitely a plus. But he was wrong about the first part. You met his eye, emboldened by his confidence. “I’ll get my body back, and we’ll see who’s boss.”

“Will we now?” he said, meeting your eye with a mischievous gleam in his own. As a woman, you would have wanted to wipe that gleam away, to climb right back on top of him. But you were tired and satisfied now, and some small part of you still ached from that lightning strike. All you wanted was to curl him against you and sleep.

“We will,” you said, turning and closing your eyes again. For the briefest of seconds, you were looking at Arthur’s relaxed face. Then you came to, still facing the ceiling. If you couldn’t get settled in one body or the other, you would go mad soon.

“What are we gonna do about this?” he asked.

You hummed, not quite in a mood to talk about it now. “Leave it for the morning.”

He chuckled beside you, his laugh through your voice. It was soothing in a way that had you drifting, somewhere between restfulness and sleep. You stayed like this a long time. He eventually said something else, something about lightning, but you gave in to his body’s want and flung over the edge of unconsciousness, unraveling into thought and darkness alone.

~

You awoke to a warm body beside you. The memories of the day prior came flooding back like a tidal wave, slapping you into alertness. You jerked up to find yourself looking at Arthur. He was looking back, those blue eyes studying you, a smile below them.

“Welcome back.”

You were in your own body. You looked down—still naked, and wrapped up in Arthur’s arms. “I…” You didn’t know what to say.

“I woke up like this too. Myself, I mean. Seems the little lightning strike had a shelf life.”

You couldn’t believe…it couldn’t have been that easy. It couldn’t have all been real. More than that, this couldn’t be your closest friend holding you in his arms.

“You…that did happen, right? I’m not insane?”

He chuckled, the sound a perfect one coming from him this time. “No, you ain’t. Or else we both are.”

“Shit,” you said, turning onto your back. The strangeness of it all…it overwhelmed you. But that didn’t stop you from noticing where Arthur’s hand had landed after your movement. On your bare belly. You looked down at it, and he must have noticed, because his fingers started running circles against your skin, low enough that a familiar heat began building within you.

He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “What was that you were saying about when we got our bodies back?”

The male smugness in those words…