Adult Touch Play
Back when I was still a fresh private in the army, just after making rank and getting thrown onto my first ammunition-depot watch, I got permission for the first time to eat late-night ramen after coming off duty.
The one who gave the green light was, of course, my rifleman partner—another enlisted guy. He was a short-timer corporal by then, and the moment he realized it was my very first post-watch ramen, he scrambled over to his locker and dug something out.
Then he snatched the standard-issue cup ramen right out of my hands and shoved two others into them instead: Gonghwachun and Gajjambbong.
At first I thought he just wanted me to fetch hot water for both of them—his included. Turns out he meant for me to mix the two together and eat the whole thing myself.
Even as a civilian I'd never mixed different kinds of ramen. I couldn't see the point of taking two perfectly good cups and randomly combining them. I just wanted to eat them one at a time. But the short-timer was staring at me with such naked anticipation that I had no choice. I mixed them.
I glanced at him for a final nod of approval, then took the first bite.
That absurdly, impossibly moving flavor—I had just recreated it right here in Ajeong's studio apartment. And now her first experience of it was about to begin.
"Well?"
"Heh—I haven't even tasted it yet~"
She answered with a smile, then took a bite.
"…"
A second bite. A third. Without a word she kept shoveling it in, cheeks working furiously. She even lifted the whole cup in one hand like she meant to finish every last drop.
I watched her eat, feeling quietly proud of myself.
"Ah—oh no… this is yours, Woohyun…"
Right before she could dump the rest into her mouth she seemed to remember, hastily set the cup back on the desk, and started glancing at me for cues.
"It's fine~ Tastes good, right?"
"Yeah! It's seriously amazing!! I guess it really is different when someone who's actually been in the army makes it…"
"Told you~"
"Hehe… please forgive me for daring to judge it with a civilian's palate!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"But what do we do? I ate almost all of it. You only got one bite. Should I run out and buy another?"
Even as she said it, her eyes kept flicking toward the monitor where the match was still playing. The convenience store was only five minutes away, but if a goal dropped while she was gone she would definitely be devastated.
"It's fine~ Just finish what's left."
"You should at least eat this much… is it because I made it all gross…?"
"It's not that. The last bit is always the best part."
"Really…?"
Exactly one mouthful remained. And that final mouthful always delivered the absolute peak of flavor.
She still kept checking my face, but she clearly wanted it too—she didn't refuse.
"It's so good!! What even is this… it's seriously delicious! Why is it so different from when I make it?"
Watching her eat so heartily and react so enthusiastically was pure satisfaction for the person who'd cooked it.
"Hehe… want this one, Woohyun?"
She held out the cup ramen she'd bought herself. I wondered if that short-timer corporal had felt the same way back then, watching me offer him the plain issue cup. She knew perfectly well it was a ridiculous trade, yet she still looked at me like this was all she had to give. It was adorable.
I took it and started eating. Ajeong watched me with a contented little smile.
Oh no.
There I was mid-ramen, Ajeong watching me eat, when Arsenal scored the opener in the North London Derby.
As an Arsenal fan I was thrilled, of course—but Ajeong, the Tottenham supporter, looked so much more crushed that I couldn't show it.
She trembled for a second, then whipped her head around to stare at me.
"…Woohyun, you're sad too, right?"
"Huh?"
"Our Tottenham just conceded… I think it's because we weren't cheering properly and ate ramen instead.."
"I'm an Arsenal—"
"Shh.. Let's stop eating and lie down so we can focus on the match."
In the end she tugged me by the hand up onto the bed and pulled the blanket over us. We'd already finished most of the ramen anyway, so it didn't really matter.
"We'll save the snacks for next time we watch a game."
"I thought you said no eating, just focus."
"When we're winning it's fine to snack."
"So as long as it's before the expiration date, right?"
Poke—
"Hey—!"
She jabbed me in the side and pouted at my comment.
And just like that we settled in side by side and started watching the match properly.
Halftime score: 1–0.
After Arsenal's opener there had been no second goal, no equalizer.
I shifted, thinking I might as well clear the empty ramen cups during the fifteen-minute break before the smell soaked into everything.
"Where are you going?"
She caught my sleeve and asked.
"Just cleaning the desk. The ramen smell's gonna stick."
"Halftime is the most important part of soccer. Lie back down."
So I lay back down and spent the full fifteen minutes listening to her theories and predictions.
"The second half is definitely going to be different."
"Lately Son Heung-min has been…"
"If it's Vicario, he won't let in another one, right? If we just score…"
She poured out every possible forecast about the match. They all sounded plausible enough—except every single one was wildly optimistic from Tottenham's point of view, so I couldn't put much stock in them.
"But Arsenal also—"
"Shh. Let's only talk about good things."
Poke—
"Kyah—?!"
Feeling a little spiteful, I jabbed her in the side. The reaction was spectacular. People who attack others always end up targeting the exact same weak spot they have themselves—and sure enough, she was extremely ticklish.
Poke— poke—
"Eek! Heh! Hah!"
Every time I poked her side she made the most fascinating noises. I started tapping out a rhythm like she was some kind of instrument.
"Hyaat! Heh! Th-that's—! Stop!"
"Surrender?"
"Haa… you're mean!"
Poke—
"Hih! I-I'm sorry, surrender, surrender!!"
She tried to resist for a second, but I crushed the rebellion immediately.
"Hmph!"
Poke-poke-poke-poke—
She launched her own counterattack, jabbing wildly at my side—unfortunately for her, I barely feel ticklish at all.
Poke-poke-poke-poke—
"How's that! Not so fun when you're on the receiving end, is it!!"
Poke—
"Kyahah!!"
"I don't get ticklish."
"Th-that's not possible!"
Refusing to believe me, she put her hand back on my side and this time tried feather-light fingertip tickling. That didn't work either, of course.
"…Does Woohyun not have any weak spots?"
Now she was asking me directly.
"Hmm.. even if I did, why would I tell you?"
"Yeah, fair…"
She thought hard for a moment, then put her hand on my side again. This time she wasn't trying to tickle me.
"It really doesn't bother you at all? How is that even possible?"
Fascinated by my complete lack of reaction, she started groping and tugging and rubbing at my side.
"Is it because you have zero fat? Maybe muscle just doesn't get ticklish!"
"That it?"
Pinch.
"Guh—!"
"You don't have any either."
Curious after her comment, I pinched Ajeong's side between two fingers. It wasn't completely unpinchable, but it felt more like skin than actual flesh. There was no way her firm abs had any spare fat on them.
"You can't just grab me out of nowhere… you startled me."
"You were grabbing me first. Oh, that reminds me—what about the Dutch treat we agreed on?"
"…"
Obviously I wasn't talking about money. A few days ago she'd grabbed my ass and then told me to grab hers in return—that was the "Dutch treat" I was referring to. It had been a joke, sure, but I'd locked her into promising she'd pay me in cash on Sunday.
Cash on Sunday. Meaning she'd hand it over in person when we met. And right now seemed like the perfect moment.
"Wh-what are you even talking about?"
"You really don't know?"
"The convenience store bill from today?? Next time we eat I'll cover it for real! Twice!!"
Was she seriously going to play dumb? She was the one who'd used that phrasing first—there was no way she actually didn't remember.
"Hyeek—!!"
I slid one hand under her and straight onto her ass. Then I started kneading it freely.
Ajeong looked at me in shock, but she didn't move or try to pull away.
"Wh-what are you doing…"
"Enforcement."
She'd promised and then failed to deliver, so I was simply exercising my legal rights.
"Hyaa… hey!"
After a moment of fluster she recovered and went for my ass in retaliation. She didn't have the strength to dig in properly, though. I had no choice but to lift my hips a little and give her some room.
Looking thoroughly satisfied, she started kneading away.
Even after the second half kicked off, her hand never stopped.
"…Ajeong."
"Mm?"
"The match started."
"Mm! We're watching it together right now."
I'd pulled my hand back ages ago. Ajeong, though—ten full minutes into the second half and she was still going.
Knead—.. squeeze—
"Hehe…"
Tottenham was still losing, yet she was grinning like an idiot over something.
"Maybe you can let go now?"
"Didn't you give me permission, Woohyun?"
"What?"
"You lifted your hips and said 'please touch me~'"
I'd only given her a little space because watching her struggle so desperately had been pathetic. Apparently that was how she chose to interpret it.
"More importantly, why do you keep touching it?"
"Th-the texture feels nice!"
"That so?"
"Yeah! It's like… sensory play..!"
"Right… more importantly, at this rate we're going to lose. You okay with that?"
"Ugh… Woohyun, you're bad at soccer, aren't you?"
Her eyes went sad in an instant as she looked at me.
"Pfft, what, you want me to go out there and play?"
"Yeah… better you standing there than leaving Richarlison up front…"
"If I played, the ball would never come to me once."
"I'll pass it to you!"
"What, you actually play soccer?"
"Hehe… nooo."
The match was so dull that we ended up talking more than watching. Even after the full ninety minutes the score was still 1–0. Arsenal's early opener had become the winner.
From the five-minute mark onward Ajeong had gone into full concentration mode, cheering for Tottenham with everything she had. When the final whistle blew I checked her face, already thinking about how to console her—and surprisingly, she didn't look that bad.
"You don't seem very sad."
"Friendlies don't count~"
She'd seemed more invested in this friendly than anyone alive, but I decided to let her rationalization stand.
"So then, as promised, I get to keep being an Arsenal fan, right?"
"Whaaaat—!! After we watched it together like this?!"
"But Tottenham lost."
"This is the first time I've ever watched a match with someone else…"
"What's that got to do with anything."
Squeeze—
"It's my first time…"
Flick—!
"Ow…"
She was clearly trying to manufacture some weird atmosphere on purpose, so I flicked her on the forehead.
"Stop scheming. Just cheer for Arsenal with me~"
"Hmph! That is never—ever!—happening."
Exactly the reaction I'd expected. I hadn't been serious anyway.
More interesting was how she seemed to think grabbing my ass counted as holding some kind of leverage over me. Every time she tried to talk me into supporting Tottenham, she timed it perfectly with a hard squeeze of my rear.
"That's enough now."
"Aah…"
I pried her hand off. She looked disappointed and left it hanging in the air.
"Why…? Are you leaving already?"
It was already around ten-thirty. Even accounting for how close my place was, it was getting late.
"Why don't I just sleep over?"
Squeeze—
"Ah.. it is getting a little late…"
I said it while grabbing her ass; she flinched, then seemed to accept it. Of course, if she'd actually said yes I would have stayed without a second thought. I was sure by now that the attraction was mutual—but we still weren't dating.
Which made her refusal both disappointing and, somehow, even more attractive.