Chapter 194: Preliminaries 3
Chapter 194: Preliminaries 3
A lavish, high-end bed that didn't suit a motel at all.
Song Ye-na flopped down beside me and leaned in slightly.
"Well then...."
A soft hand crept toward my thigh, paired with a warm sigh.
The touch was almost reverent, as if handling a prized possession while easing the blanket aside.
She'd only managed to pull it down to thigh level, but already the heavy shape beneath was obvious.
Song Ye-na swallowed hard, her focus so intense her eyes were practically bloodshot.
I glanced down, following that dogged stare, and took in the sight of a body that had changed a little. How to put it—the muscles had gained detail, as if someone had done a finishing pass on a figure. Considering this dream's owner was Song Ye-na, the culprit was no mystery.
'Wow... my old body was practically a toy by comparison.'
Bulging chest, chiseled six-pack. A muscular build that passed for a sexy man on this continent, but compared to what I had now, the old version felt like an amateur's first sculpt. The iliac crest beside the abs, the line running down past the thighs to the calves. A body that had once been vaguely lumpy was now refined—thin yet sharply defined, like an artist's carving. Probably the difference between incarnations who fantasized about beefcake studs and Song Ye-na, who'd imagined the ideal swordsman's physique.
"When we first met, I never imagined you'd look like this...."
A trembling voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah. Me neither."
Words pulled out of me by the fake memories woven into this lucid dream. Though I really hadn't expected to steal someone else's disciple either, so that was one hundred percent sincere.
My answer was the cue for the blanket to slip past her knees.
A cloying, sticky lust hit me hard at the same moment. The source wasn't Song Ye-na herself—she'd frozen solid, one hand still on my thigh.
No, the culprit was her lecherous doppelganger sprawled out on the other side of the mirror wall.
'At that rate she's going to pass out from dehydration later.'
Maybe because every scrap of pure, lewd desire had been shoved into that copy to leave the original Song Ye-na innocent. It was only a stolen shower-peek scenario, but the wreckage on the bed looked like someone had upended a bucket of water. The doppelganger had her legs stretched out wide across the drenched, discolored sheets, chewing on a pillow and soaked in pleasure, gaze locked on us with unnerving persistence.
Under that stare—hot enough it felt about to catch fire—I reached out, too. The person I was playing along with was the maiden-hearted, virginal Song Ye-na, so I'd have to keep a rein on the intensity.
My palm registered a waist so firm it almost felt hard.
"You must've trained pretty hard."
"It's not an embarrassing body, is it?"
The small compliment seemed to restore her confidence, and she straightened up, chest lifting. Her shapely breasts jiggled softly—boingg—and sent a few water droplets flying.
If my incarnations under the Dream Demon's influence had skin that kneaded like clay, Song Ye-na's body—honed by over a decade of mabo and swordsmanship—was more like solid rubber. There was a surface layer of feminine softness, but press a fingertip barely a millimeter in and you'd swear someone had replaced her guts with a steel core. Her waist and flanks were that honed.
"Th-that tickles—"
Curiosity made me try a full hand-grip instead of just a finger, but the skin and flesh yielded nothing—it was like there was nothing but muscle beneath.
"You're absurdly toned."
"Ah, um... I'm not sure what to say to that."
Her back was sculpted in elegant relief, like the back of an action-film actress I'd seen before the world ended. I ran my hand smoothly down her spine, then gave in to temptation and squeezed her ass.
If human body fat worked like clay, her physique looked as if someone had scraped everything off her back and forcibly plastered it onto her butt. Waist and abdomen too taut to pinch between your fingers, but her ass overflowed a full two-handed grip and then some.
"When that happens—just hold me."
"...Okay!"
While I was busy appreciating her, my mouth moved on its own, saying exactly what she wanted to hear. Even as I savored the sensation at my fingertips, my vision suddenly flipped, and even the dim mood lighting disappeared behind a curtain of her hair.
Face-to-face, close enough to count each other's fine hairs. She'd pushed me flat and climbed on top—a bold move, immediately followed by the lightest, most fleeting kiss.
She held her breath, pressed her lips tight and tapped them against mine a few times, then lifted her head and exhaled with nervous, puppy-fresh bashfulness.
Simultaneously, a sharp nasal squeal—hee-eek—escaped her.
'Is voyeurism normally like that?'
An innocent couple's first kiss must have been that erotically charged for her; she'd curled up like a shrimp and was trembling faintly.
Well, it didn't matter. That thing over there was every repressed desire lurking in Song Ye-na's subconscious. Purging it solo meant her drive was being discharged. If she could get off that hard on her own, her head would probably stay clear till the tournament ended.
"A man's body is so absurdly toned."
"Aren't you the last person who should be saying that?"
"But the muscle grain is different, don't you think? Even the skin's something else."
After the shy, loaded kiss ended, she stayed perched on top of me, stretching both arms out and drawing me into a tight embrace. Her pounding heartbeat gradually steadied—maybe steadying herself was the point. Faint thumping and hot sighs transmitted skin to skin. Her hips squirmed with a touch of awkwardness, restlessly dancing on my thighs.
The plush, firm flesh back there was obviously searching for exactly one thing: my rigid length. The thought came with a touch of bias, but—she was a swordswoman, so maybe she just had confidence in handling her body. Trembling though she was, she somehow found the right position and got ready.
"I really love you, my Constellation."
Whispering against the nape of my neck, she slipped her hips down. The tip of my cock punched through hot, wet clay—sweltering and pleasurable, a dizzying spark radiating through my whole body.
She must've fantasized the same thing all my other incarnations had: that in my first experience, the guy felt good, too. What reason was there to reject the pleasure a dream delivered?
Eyes met eyes, and lips found lips once more. Our mouths sealed together as if we'd decided words were unnecessary.
'That's way too distracting, so I'm just gonna block the view.'
Like drawing a curtain, I cut off my own sightline past the mirror. Now neither Song Ye-na nor I could see beyond that wall. On the other side, her dark alter ego was still watching us—nothing more.
"Haaah, mmnn—"
While my gaze flicked aside toward the wall, I felt her teeth tap softly against mine. She must've thought I'd dodged eye contact out of embarrassment; her eyes smiled, and her tongue extended. I parted my lips just a little, and a soft mass of flesh slid between them like a snake burrowing into a tunnel.
Her tongue-work, wasn't what you'd call skilled. Awkward tongue-against-tongue contact. But that slick, sticky sensation seemed to please her; she clamped her upper body tight against mine like she was applying a wrestling hold.
The kiss went on. Long enough to match a swordswoman's lung capacity.
"—Hah, I'm going to move now."
After the marathon kiss, she straightened up. The pleasant pressure and tingling warmth vanished from my chest, but the sight that replaced it—the elastic sway above her narrow waist—more than made up for it.
Her hands crept up onto my stomach, mapping my abs as she settled into position. Then she spread her legs wide without a shred of embarrassment, as if doing a squat. An obscenely wet vulva laid bare in full view.
"Hnnngh—it's j-just a lump of flesh...."
Her murmur was barely audible. Looking closer, I could see the tendons etched taut across her thighs and calves. Not bulging, but lean, without a single ounce of extraneous muscle. Gorgeous legs.
"...Sure you don't need to brace your arms?"
"I'm fine. I'm more worried about whether I'm too heavy."
"This body's not about to keel over from one person."
Mabo and the squat stance were all she really knew, so maybe she couldn't bend her torso forward—or maybe she was worried grabbing my stomach would hurt. An awkward pose, but her legs and hips alone kept her moving.
Squelch, squelch— lewd wet sounds filled the room. A woman perched on top of a man, squatting, using nothing but thigh strength to bounce her ass up and down. The first thing that hit me wasn't lechery so much as sheer admiration for a well-trained body.
Last time had been Ellis's liquid-body waterjet sex, and now this. Sex between superhumans kept veering into directions I'd never imagined. The clumsy posture looked strenuous, and my hands felt empty, so I gave a little bounce with my hips as a signal while gazing up at her with arms stretched out.
"Holding you feels better...."
"Yes, got it—"
Her voice, soaked in pleasure, dropped low. I only had a moment to admire the lovely sound. Her solid arms crushed me into another embrace, a pleasant pressure tinged with just a little breathlessness. Hot breath spilled faster and faster against the nape of my neck.
Her inner walls squeezed tighter and tighter, matching the rising pressure of my climax. Was synchronized orgasm a universally shared sex fantasy for women in this world, too?
"I—I think I'm gonna come."
"Me, too."
My reply to her shy whisper right against my ear was enough—her hips shivered as if my voice alone had delivered a massive jolt.
Like two snakes entwined, she'd been pressed flush against me, gently circling her pelvis. Now she clamped tight not just with her arms—her thighs locked around me, too, coiling up as if she meant to feel me with her entire body.
'If she didn't have that voyeurism quirk, I wonder if she'd just be a muscle fetishist.'
When she finally shuddered against me, her firm skin practically licking my muscles, I felt my own climax surge. I squeezed my eyes shut.