Don't Stop There

Hunger. Sleep. Lust. The so-called three great human desires.

The ones bound most tightly to instinct — the ones that, given half a chance, will shove reason aside and bolt out ahead of it. The ones that have kept the species standing and made it possible to keep living at all.

Alright. A question, then.

Of the three, which matters most?

Hunger, obviously. A person without food dies. Cut off the nutrients and the bones thin out, the metabolism crawls to a halt. People are machines, and a machine needs fuel. A machine that doesn't get any stops running — and for a person, stopped running means dead. Hunger sits at the top of the ranking for the simple reason that it is survival itself.

Now that we've settled importance, let me change the question.

Of the three great desires, which is the hardest to endure in ordinary life?

Lust. No contest.

If the other two are built around keeping one person alive, lust is built around keeping the species itself from vanishing. It doesn't keep a schedule the way the others do. But once the conditions line up, the detonation is exponential. Especially when something that gets you going is sitting right in front of your eyes — it casually flattens the other two and takes the stage.

That was exactly the situation these two were in.

Gulp.

A thick, wet swallow rolled through the air. Whose? Se-won's, maybe. Eun-byul's. Both. Neither of them was in any condition to care. The alcohol had shut their thinking down, and every last nerve they had left was pointed at their eyes. There wasn't enough leftover focus to register the little swallow coming up from inside their own throats — and it hadn't actually been that little.

"……"

Eun-byul dipped her head and looked down at his arm.

Thick…

A pale forearm, with more muscle packed onto it than she'd expected. He said he drew pictures — maybe all that time working his arms had put it there. Every time the arm shifted, even a little, the muscle hidden under the skin twitched. Nothing dramatic. But to someone whose entire major was physical education, it was plainly, vividly visible. If anything, the secrecy of the movement made it worse. Hotter.

And past that? Broad shoulders showing themselves off, and a deeply cut collarbone tucked behind his collar, quietly working on her.

Attraction, love, none of it — she was still a woman. She had primitive desire, and in this world a "woman" was a creature whose desire came inflated several times over. The single layer of fabric Lee Se-won had peeled back packed serious firepower for her, too. Extremely serious.

"……"

"……"

Silence settled over the table. The two people who'd been laughing and needling each other a minute ago were gone. All that was left was one awkward man and one awkward woman, sipping at glasses that were already empty, poking at side dishes that were already gone. That was how it worked between men and women. One small change, and the whole atmosphere could flip on its head.

"Haha. It's kinda hot in here…"

Lee Se-won cracked first. He fanned himself with one hand and grabbed the front of his shirt, flapping it the way those girls he'd seen that morning had done. A defenseless little gesture — not something a "man" of this world would do, but something he could do precisely because he was a man from somewhere else.

Flap, flap.

Every time the collar swung, the hidden collarbone peeked out, and her gaze went with it. She tried to lock it down, terrified he'd catch her staring, but a physiological reaction was a physiological reaction. It felt like watching porn. A little street performance playing out right in front of her face. Something below her navel started to tingle.

…Ah, shit.

Had she always been this much of a pervert? She was having thoughts about a guy who was just a friend. Guilt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kept jabbing her in the heart, little pointed pokes.

Hoo. Calm down.

Lee Eun-byul steadied herself. She drew a long breath and pictured her head going white and empty — the same trick she used to shake off nerves before a school athletic meet. Strangely enough, it always left her feeling briefly clear. Of course, her dumbed-down brain stayed dumbed-down either way. But she could still notice something new.

This time, instead of his body, she looked at his eyes.

She'd thought she was the only one staring. She wasn't. He was sneaking glances at her too, his gaze traveling back and forth between her stomach and her chest. Watching that, a friend's words from yesterday floated up uninvited. Men have parts of a woman's body they get pulled toward as well, she'd said.

And remembering that, she remembered why she'd come this far in the first place.

Ah. Right.

The thin crop top she'd gone out of her way to wear. The way she'd pushed the drinks. The way she'd steered them into a bar and let the mood ripen. Hadn't all of it been to build something? And her head was nicely hazy. She'd lose a few memories by tomorrow anyway. It was the kind of night you could say things you normally couldn't. And, as it happened, her own desire was climbing too.

He was a hard one to get through to. The way he'd kept his distance this past week made that obvious enough. In that case, she was prepared to swallow the embarrassment and put something big on the table. A pretty important part of herself, at that. And while she was at it, she'd scratch her own itch too.

"Oppa."

She opened her mouth, and said something that, sober, she would have called insane.

"Do you… maybe want to touch my chest?"

For a second I genuinely doubted my own ears.

"H-huh?"

I yanked my eyes up from where they'd been sitting. Our gazes met, just for a moment. Her cheeks were faintly pink, and every time our eyes crossed she looked away, like she couldn't stand to be caught. I asked her.

"What did you just say?"

"No, I just… you've been staring at my chest this whole time, so."

"Ah."

Damn it. She'd caught that.

To be fair, I hadn't exactly been subtle. A pair of breasts exerting their full gravitational field has a lot of pull. I'd try to look away and my eyes would snap back like they were magnetized. And because of that I'd walked right into this. I cursed myself out.

You stupid piece of shit…

Ugly thoughts started stacking up. I could see myself overlapping with those guys who'd glanced the wrong way once and ended up in a police interview. That was it. I was going to prison. They'd catch me in the act. Visual rape, sexual harassment, a whole pile of charges I couldn't even name, and then the ride downtown.

I was still running that tape when Eun-byul's voice cut back in.

"So what I meant was, I don't mind. If you want to touch them, I said you can."

"…Huh?"

And just like that, a fact I'd very briefly forgotten came back to me. This was a place where the entire idea of gender had been flipped. I'd been living with that knowledge for a full week, and a couple of drinks had been enough to wipe it. That was the problem with alcohol. Every so often it just quietly deleted the things you were supposed to already know.

So wait.

I ran her words through again.

She actually just told me to touch them?

Wow. That was something.

Think about what a chest is. Forbidden territory. Getting that far is supposed to take time — a lot of it. Even couples can't just casually put their hands there. And yet here we were. Two rounds of drinks. A couple of exchanged looks. And that was enough to get an invitation like this.

Was this the power of being a "man"?

I sat there for a second in genuine culture shock. Then I looked at Eun-byul and nodded.

"……"

From where I was sitting, there was no reason to turn that down.

…No. There was no ability to turn that down. Sexual desire is a viciously powerful impulse, and trying to stare it down with willpower alone is a losing fight. In a situation like this, even the Buddha would be yelling yes.

"Still, doing it here would be kind of embarrassing, so if we go somewhere else…"

She let the sentence trail off. Even saying it herself, she looked mortified. Fair enough — I'd be mortified too if I were the one asking someone to touch my chest. But she didn't take it back.

I went along with it without a fight.

We settled up at the counter and stepped out onto the main street.

A cool wash of air wrapped around our skin. However much the days had warmed up, it was still spring, and the temperature dropping at night was just how the season worked. Neither of us put a cardigan on. It would only have gotten in the way of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what came next.

Hoo…

My heart was hammering. In a few minutes I was going to walk into unknown territory. She'd told me to touch her chest, but that was never going to be where it ended. We'd drunk right up to the edge of blacking out, which meant we were as good as already gone. Thinking shut down. Reason sinking under. A certain part of the body drawing tight. If things went well, we could go a lot further than hands.

"Th-this way."

The place she led me to was an alley. Every downtown has them — the spots people don't walk through. Too narrow, or littered with cigarette butts and empty bottles, the kind of debris that collects where nothing wholesome happens. Perfect for something unwholesome. Stand two or three people in it end to end and the space would be full. Cramped, but close. I looked at her straight on.

Same black eyes as anyone else's, and yet they seemed to gleam a deep navy. I took her in for a moment without saying anything. She was, without question, beautiful. Lee Eun-byul wore the night better than she wore the day. That dark navy hair looked like it had been cut out of the sky, and those slender arms and legs stirred something mean in me. When a person that lively suddenly shut her mouth, the cat in her face came alive and ate the whole atmosphere.

She'd offered. I'd accepted. We'd already come this far.

I hesitated for a second. Then I put my hand on her chest anyway.

"Hh…"

Softness, and a faint sound riding on top of it. I could feel her heart hammering all the way through. The bright, loud girl from earlier was gone. What was standing in front of me now was a small animal. I stroked slowly, feeling the thin cotton of the crop top and the softness underneath it.

Her chest was fuller than it had been a minute ago. When a person gets worked up, the body always tells on them somewhere. Her cheeks, so much redder. Her chest, faintly swollen. The nipples behind that bra were probably standing up hard. I thought that, and then I suddenly squeezed.

A handful. No warning.

"Haaahn…?!"

My hand filled like I'd grabbed a water balloon, and a high, fragile note slapped against my ear. She hadn't seen that coming — a thin shock crossed her face, pupils shaking over wide-open eyes. She still didn't stop me. Both of her arms were behind her back, trembling. At some point she'd laced her fingers together back there, and it looked for all the world like she was holding the pose so I'd have an easier time.

I took that as permission to get rougher.

"Nnh…! Haa…!"

I used both hands, rolling her breasts around, pushing them out of shape. One rode up and they sat uneven; then they crushed together and flattened under my palms. Her face went redder still. Past a blush now — her whole face was red, flushed so deep it looked like it would burst if you pricked it with a needle.

"…!"

A moan mixed into her breathing and scattered into the air. Rough. Heavy. I figured mine didn't sound much different, and I stepped in. A single step of distance left. Her wrecked face was right there, sharp and close. Breath hit breath and tangled up between us. The air was ordinary room temperature, but the breathing was so thick I almost thought I could see it.

Anyone looking would have known. The alcohol had shut thinking down first, and the touching was melting whatever was left. For a second the thought landed clean: this was going all the way.

I was at my limit too. The thing standing up between my legs felt like it was about to punch through my jeans. A hazy situation for a hazy head. I lifted my hand to take her to a motel, and—

"S-stooooop!!!!"

—got shut down out of nowhere?

"Stop! This is enough, right?"

She caught both of my wrists as she said it. Her voice was a full octave higher than usual. She was trying to manufacture a smile on a face that was still scarlet. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

No. You're pulling out here?

What kind of bullshit was that. She was visibly, obviously worked up. We couldn't stop here. We'd already gone too far, and the desire was coming out of both of us in a steady stream. No — it was pouring out. The wrecked breathing, the swollen body, all of it was evidence. Pulling out now was the same as showing someone the hole and then telling them not to put it in.

Once a man draws his sword, he's got to cut something — even if it's only a radish. Shouldn't the "women" living in this world work the same way?

She got her mouth open first.

"Th-this is as far as, I mean, if you keep touching me we're going to end up going all the way after this! There's still so much we don't even know about each other, and! Compatibility! We have to think about that too! We should figure out each other's tastes, and! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠So!"

Rambling. This and that. The words tangled. Too many of them had been loaded in at once and the sentences wouldn't come out clean, and her breathing, still nowhere near settled, kept throwing accents in wherever it felt like. She kept talking anyway.

I wanted to go all the way after this, actually.

I was getting more and more claustrophobic listening to it when she suddenly went for a goodbye.

"Anyway, today was fun! See you next time!"

"Ah! Wait—"

I called after her a second too late. She was already putting distance on me at a serious clip. Leave it to a physical education major — she was fast. Drunk enough that her balance should have been garbage, and she was still stupidly fast. I watched her back shrink and shouted.

"Noooo!"

Show me the pussy and then leave!! And while you're showing it, we should have sex too!!

"Kh-hhk!"

Tears welled up and blurred the alley. Watching that chance crumble away so hollowly felt like something in my chest going with it.

The moonlit little event vanished like a mirage.

My head was spinning. The heat that had climbed all the way up had nowhere to go, and it felt like it was melting my nerves from the inside. Was what was cooking my brain right now just anger, or did I simply need to get laid? I couldn't tell. I hadn't gotten laid, so how the hell would I know.

"Haa."

I dragged myself into the house and lay down on the bed without a sound. The alcohol had my head hazy, but sleep wouldn't come. Unspent lust was standing in the doorway. Down between my legs, my little guy was screaming to come out and play.

Ah, my poor little guy. In the end, is your only partner going to be my right hand?

This was all that bitch Lee Eun-byul's fault. I couldn't begin to guess why she'd run at the last second. No — why did she leave? Her reactions hadn't looked like she hated it. If she'd hated it, she would have stopped my hand the second it landed. I don't know much about women, but even I can tell when someone is turned on. She'd been at her limit too. I was sure of it. And she'd still run. It didn't make any sense.

Ah. So this is how the night ends, then.

A lonely night…

I was still thinking that when it happened.

Ding!

A bright little notification chirped right above my head. The phone I'd tossed onto the pillow. …What now. I rolled my heavy skull to one side and checked the screen.

A text had just come in from RapeLegalization.

"……"

Apparently a filthy idea had landed at this hour. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠What kind of wiring do you even need to start thinking dirty thoughts in the middle of the night like this.

I stared at the chat for a while and didn't move.

"……"

Come to think of it, I'd chewed on this once before. Whether to meet RapeLegalization in real life. Judging by the way they talked, they were a serious freak. The thought had crossed my mind — meet once, have a nice long conversation with our bodies. But I'd shelved it at the time because of the anonymity problem. Meeting someone you can't identify, just like that, is a risk. Real-life meetups were supposed to be a last resort. A card you only play when your brain has been completely colonized by your dick, when even the last frayed edge of reason has been buried.

And once I thought that far, another thought followed.

……Then isn't that now?

So I asked myself again.

Should I meet them?

The same question I'd asked last time. And same as last time, reason climbed up for a second and started whispering. Anonymity this, police report that…

"Shut the fuck up."

I killed it in one line. In this state, reason was a useless little shit. A shit already kneecapped by alcohol, talking back to instinct. Yeah. This was always how it was going to go.

An empty house. No one else in it. I lay on the mattress and muttered it quietly to myself.

"Let's meet."

It was about time I met them in the real world.

I was going to score RapeLegalization.