Gunner Doesn't Watch Gay Porn

Gunner flushed red.

"That's...fine," he admitted. Though, he hadn't ever cuddled with anyone before.

"I'm glad," he said, and he kissed Gunner on the mouth.

Gunner stared at him, flinching slightly. He pulled away, before he kissed Duncan himself.

Duncan smiled at him, and caressed his cheek.

"It's not too much, is it?"

"No, it's...kind of nice," he replied, flushing.

He climbed into his lap and kissed him again, a little longer, this time.

"Good. I like kisses, too."

"I'm sorry about...the scar," Gunner mumbled, motioning to his lips, a small scar across his lips.

"Do you want to know what I think about that scar?" He kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Gunner's neck and sliding his tongue over the scar.

"That's what I think."

Gunner shuddered, pushing Duncan away slightly.

"I've...never gotten, um, that reaction."

He laughed.

"I'm sorry, I think it's cute. Genuinely. It adds character to your face, I like it."

Gunner shrugged slightly, feeling slightly less self-conscious about his scars.

"Got it horse riding. Hit a rock. Broke some teeth." He smiled, somewhat fondly recalling the memory.

"Haha, really?" Duncan pulled up his sleeve, revealing a long, pale scar on his forearm. "When I was in college, I tried riding ATVs with some friends as a new hobby. It didn't turn out so well--I got this souvenir from a wipeout. Needed six stitches."

Gunner brushed his fingers over it.

"I've got some...sort of like this," he admitted. "Well, I've just got a lot of scars. From a...lot of things. Some less pleasant than others."

"Wanna show me? I'll show you mine in exchange--I'm a doctor, I like scars," he teased, brushing Gunner's again with his thumb. "Really, I don't know why you're worried--you're a handsome man, and I think it only makes you look better. This way, I could actually spot you in a crowd."

Gunner shrugged and stood up, removing his t-shirt. Even across his upper body, which admittedly was pretty nice to look at, he had plenty of scars. Gunner could name the incidents causing the more prominent ones, but even he had forgotten what many of the smaller ones had been from.

Duncan whistled.

"Damn, that's a lot of stories. I don't think I have quite as many, I'm sorry." He stood up and removed his shirt and his pants, revealing a pair of tight blue boxers. There were more scars on his legs than on his torso, but he still had a fair amount. Several in particular looked like teeth marks.

"Oh, you haven't seen my legs yet," Gunner replied, stripping out of his tight jeans. He had scars up and down his legs, but in particular there were a lot around his inner thighs. He didn't seem particularly ashamed, however. He shoved his clothes by his shoes and sat back on the couch. Despite being clothed only in his underwear, he felt perfectly comfortable. In fact, he felt somewhat more comfortable, because in his experience, men only found his body attractive.

"I can start with the big one," he said, tracing the long, gnarly scar spanning across his chest. "Once, I got into a really big fight with this kid, Jacob. Not my Jake, another one. Anyway, the fight was over his girlfriend, which is stupid because I thought his girlfriend was ugly. So, he pinned me done and grabbed a sharp rock and raked my chest with it."

He laughed.

"Poor kid didn't have a clue."

"Oh really? That sucks, I'm sorry. I got this one in my first and only bar fight," he said, pointing to a particularly gnarly mark on his back. "A friend of mine got really drunk and tried to start something with another drunk guy, and I tried to calm him down. I got a beer bottle to the shoulder for my troubles."

"This is why when Jake and I drink, we do it at home," he said pointedly. "I got a similar scar for that trouble. Uh, this one," he pointed to his arm. "Horseback riding. Cherilee was a mean, mean horse. She threw me so many times..."

And Gunner went on to explain most of the scars, save for the ones on his inner thighs, and a few random ones he just couldn't remember.

Duncan explained all of his scars in return, though there were far fewer on his body. He stopped only when he smelled something burning.

"Oh fuck, the cinnamon rolls!" he exclaimed, hurrying to the kitchen. He pulled the singed rolls from the oven, but it was too late; they were black on the outside.

Duncan sighed deeply, but that sigh soon turned into a laugh.

"I'm so sorry--look, I bet I've got other things for us to snack on. I'm just gonna throw these away outside."

Gunner smiled, finally feeling a little bit better.

"It's fine, I'll still eat 'em. Can't beat my cooking. Trust me."

Duncan shook his head, smiling sheepishly.

"No, these are really burnt. I think I have a tub of chocolate ice cream in the fridge, we can just share that."

"No thanks," Gunner replied, winkling his nose. "Don't like chocolate."

Duncan frowned. "Really? Weird. Well, is there anything you are craving? It's not too late to make a store run."

Gunner just shook his head, smiling at Duncan. No, he wasn't hungry for food. He was hungry for something far more embarrassing. He swallowed, trying to pretend the thought hadn't crossed his mind.