I'd Rather Not Get Found Out
Once the words were out, Song Hamin seemed to sense something off and raised a question.
After the body swap we had done every wild thing imaginable and gotten thoroughly tangled up, but before that there had never been any real trigger or incident that would have led to it.
Things you could shrug off when neither of you knew anything became questions you could not dodge the moment one of you found the answer.
If it was something that only involved the two of us, the deduction eventually boiled down to it had to be either me or you.
The memories from right around the time of the swap were not especially clear. Just as the moments right before falling asleep stay hazy, the memories right before consciousness switched were foggy and incomplete. Even the conditions for the swap itself were only guesses and deductions; nothing had ever been confirmed with certainty.
"…What, why?"
"Then the first time we swapped, either you were holding me or I was holding you. But I had no reason to hold you."
"Why do you think that? You could have jumped me in the middle of the night."
"Ah, cut the bullshit."
She made a face like she could not believe what she was hearing. Looking thoroughly fed up, she scowled and crossed her arms.
The two large mounds of her chest settled on top of those thin arms and caught my eye. When I had been the one carrying them around they had just been one more annoying body part, but looking at them now with completely foreign senses, nothing could have been more stimulating. She might talk about hips and all the rest, but clearly the weight of those breasts could not be ignored.
"Like… holding you after drinking or something…"
"—You're hiding something."
Sharp little thing.
Song Hamin had always been quicker on the uptake than me. I had never been as good at the clever tricks she pulled; I usually just papered things over with cute acts and the like, so I was a little clumsy at outright lying. People had always called me sly because of it, though.
"There's nothing. That's all I know too."
Even the method I knew was more inference from circumstances than solid certainty. There was no guarantee it was the right answer, but after trying every crazy thing imaginable, that was all that was left.
…I'd rather not get found out.
It was the alcohol talking, but it was still hard to say out loud. Even admitting I had held her was a little embarrassing; the actual truth was far more mortifying.
"……."
Half belief, half doubt—no, the doubt was winning. Those narrowed eyes made it clear she was nowhere near convinced, and my insides started to twist with unease.
"It's true."
"You pulled me into a hug while I was sleeping? Then went back to your room and the bodies swapped?"
"Something like that, I guess."
"You were drunk and still managed to walk back fine… fine, whatever. But just holding someone wouldn't make us swap back and forth like that. Then we should have been swapping every single time we did anything, right?"
She rubbed her chin and started piecing things together, looking for all the world like she was trying to catch me in a lie. She clearly had no intention of simply taking my word for it and moving on.
"Maybe the time it takes to swap changes depending on the intensity, or the method?"
I played along just enough to keep from looking suspicious. Acting too passive here would only make it seem like I was hiding even more. I stayed on the side of not knowing and offered vague little theories. As long as I steered clear of the path that led to the real answer, I could paper it over well enough. Hiding something was simpler than finding the truth—just cover the eyes and ears of the person who did not know.
Song Hamin put on a serious face, as if determined to smash right through that intention of mine.
"Depending on how tightly you hold—? Hold?"
She mulled over whether "holding" was even the right word, then suddenly stepped in close. She came right up against my chest, wrapped her arms all the way around my back, and just stayed like that for a long moment.
"…Hey?"
"Doesn't seem right."
She squeezed hard enough to crush her own breasts against me, then tilted her head.
"What are you doing."
I pushed her off, but her gaze stayed locked on me.
"Whether you hold soft or hard, that level alone wouldn't do it. Looking at how my lower belly hurts, you must have done something else while I was drunk. Obviously."
She tossed the words out casually, as if there was nothing left to examine, and her attention dropped to her lower belly. She stroked it with her hand, then kept thinking. The memory of what I had done yesterday made me flinch with a little spike of guilt.
Song Hamin stroked a few more times, then brought her hand up to her hair. She sniffed, and once she seemed sure of something she looked straight up at me. Those sharp eyes, narrowed to slits, made me freeze.
"What. Do I look like I'm lying?"
"I don't know about lying, but it feels like you're hiding something. Especially after you went and got me drunk."
She had drunk because I told her to, and now all she had to show for it was a sore lower belly and no swap at all; the irritation was plain on her face. She was not making a show of it, but the faint cold atmosphere rolling off her made a person hesitate.
I shouldn't have said I knew.
Short-sighted of me. If I had just claimed ignorance she might have flailed around for a while and given up. Instead I had opened my mouth thinking I could get her to listen, and now I regretted it. Whether it was just human nature or just me, the second you had the upper hand your thinking got a little short for a moment.
I had been an idiot.
"Then test it."
"What kind of test?"
"Hold for a long time? Or drink and hold for a really long time."
"We already held for a long time while drunk, I'm sure."
She let out a hollow laugh of pure disbelief. That look left me with nothing to say either. Of course—she had been half blacked out from the alcohol I had poured into her. Whatever she imagined, it was not going to feel good.
"If I really go back, I'll do it properly without any tricks."
I tried to soothe her a little, but Song Hamin stayed cool.
"Yeah, right."
"I'm serious…"
"I wouldn't take it even if you offered."
Her face said she was already thoroughly sick of the whole thing, so I pouted. It was a face that made Song Hamin jump every time she saw it, but it had already become a habit; I could not help it.
"Ah, fine, then just try it! What are you going to do if we swap that way!"
"……Then we swap."
"If we swap, you do something for me."
I demanded it boldly, but Song Hamin only clicked her tongue.
"Do what? We're just putting things back the way they were. You basically stole it in the first place, you know? Look—the first time, we each woke up the next day already swapped, right? We were asleep so we don't know exactly when it happened. Second time was in the bathroom, and the third was while I was fucking you…"
She folded her fingers one by one, hunting for clues, trying to recall something Song Hamin would never do to me. Knowing the answer already made me a little tense, but the range of things she would never do was wider than expected, so she did not reach the answer right away.
"Holding while still inside?"
I almost laughed. Her lower belly hurt right now, and setting aside the first day she could not remember, everything else had felt roughly like that, so of course her mind went there. She had derived the answer herself and still frowned like she could not believe it. The moment the words left her mouth she realized they clashed with what she had said at the start. If that had been the answer, then just like she said, we should have kept swapping the whole time we were having sex.
She seemed to know it too; the hesitation deepened. The look on her face—convinced there had to be something else besides the answer she had just offered—was pretty cute.
I should just stay home like this.
I had gotten sick of complicated, selfish human relationships and shut myself away, and yet here I was treating Song Hamin with that same complicated, selfish heart. It was funny and not funny at the same time. Knowing all that and still doing it made me feel like a pretty ruthless bitch myself.
I had no particular desire to deny it. I was starting to understand my own feelings well enough. I had realized it had gone past the simple sense that Song Hamin was comfortable to be around.
"—Are we not doing it? No, wait."
"Wouldn't it be better to just try it once instead of wasting time?"
She still would not drop the suspicious look that said she thought I was pulling something. But she knew there was no other way to check, so she mixed a sigh into it.
"If you're bullshitting me, you're dead, for real."
"Okay. If it's bullshit, I'll do whatever you say."
If I switch us back, you do whatever I say. The words rose all the way to my throat, but I swallowed them hard. From Song Hamin's point of view I was just the one who had stolen the body, so putting it back was nothing more than returning what was taken. I did not want to pick any more fights here.
"All talk. Ugh."
Song Hamin hesitated, then pulled her pants off. She rubbed and worked the entrance with her fingers before pushing them inside. The thought of having to do that again made her scowl, but she had gotten used to it enough that the reaction stopped at a little twitch of her body.
At first she had been like a wild cat that might bolt in any direction; now the impression had shifted to a sensitive cat that was starting to take to human hands. She worked her fingers around. Maybe because of what we had done yesterday, she loosened up quickly. Her body might simply have gotten used to it.
Wet sounds, then she took the swollen cock and pushed it in. It was a strange body—no matter how many times it came, it got hard again. Coming back-to-back made the volume drop and the stuff thinner, which was a bit of a struggle, but still.
"Do we really have to sit face to face?"
"No, we don't have to."
"Then turn around. Looking at you is making me sick."
"Did you eat something bad?"
"No, looking at your face."
"It's your face."
"…I don't like the expression you're making."
She seemed to remember she was roasting her own face and quickly swapped in a different reason. She left her top on, but from the waist down she was already slick; I pulled her into my arms from behind. She let out little sounds at the friction yet still tried to endure, and that was a different flavor from when she had been drunk.
I was not even moving my hips—just sitting there—but the sensation concentrated so hard I lost track of time. Thinking it might be better if we at least had the TV on, I lightly gripped her ass.
"Don't."
"Ah, just the remote."
I had been about to grab her ass, but for convenience I ended up holding her thighs and lifting her. I stood and wandered toward the living room; she growled.
"Don'… do thad…"
Caught off guard with her legs spread wide, Song Hamin ground her teeth. The reflection in the dark TV was pretty explicit. She must have seen the place we were joined; she let out a sharp little sound.
"Oh, fuck."
"Fuck nothing—sit down already! It hurts!"
She yelled so loud I quickly dropped onto the sofa. The sudden deep thrust made Song Hamin shudder hard.
"You bastard, seriously… when the hell is this going to swap…"
"Do we need to drink for it? Or is it fine without?"
"Hnn, hh. Ugh."
I left her whimpering behind and just turned the TV on. I put on one of those morning dramas and watched quietly. Song Hamin was breathing hard but still managed to focus on the show in her own way. I kept fondling her waist and thighs, keeping myself hard. Every time she squirmed from the awkward position, lewd little sounds slipped out, so there was nothing to worry about.