Talk to Julian The New World of SwapTech chapter 6 by deleted_user

Trevor took a deep breath—felt his new ribs expand, his breasts lift—and walked over.

“Julian,” he said, and Maya’s voice came out breathier than he intended. “Interesting piece. Very… dead.”

Julian turned. His eyes widened slightly—recognition, then appreciation. Trevor saw the reappraisal happening in real time: the way Julian’s gaze snagged on Maya’s collarbones, her legs, the way she held her weight on one hip.

“Maya,” Julian said, recovering. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Neither did I,” Trevor said, channeling every aloof bitch he’d ever met at corporate mixers. “But I figured I should see what I’m missing. Or rather, what I missed.”

It was working. Julian was off-balance, clearly expecting tears or rage or some other emotional display that Maya’s young, hormonal body might have provided. Instead, Trevor gave him the same look he used on junior accountants who fucked up a spreadsheet: mild disappointment mixed with complete indifference.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Julian said, stepping closer. Too close. Trevor smelled his cologne—patchouli and desperation. “Maybe we could talk? Somewhere quieter?”

This is it, Trevor thought. This is where I ruin him.

But then Julian’s hand landed on the small of Trevor’s back—Maya’s back—and the sensation was electric. The heat of his palm through the thin silk, the proprietary pressure, the way it made Trevor’s new knees weak. It was a completely different experience than being touched as a man. As Trevor, he’d been the one placing hands, guiding women through doorways, asserting presence. As Maya, he was being handled, steered, and the passivity of it sent a traitorous throb between his legs.

“Actually,” Trevor heard himself say, and Maya’s voice had dropped to a husky register that sounded like sex on gravel, “I was thinking we could skip the talking.”