switch
"I'm really not okay with this," Hisoka said, for at least the fourth time.
It was probably also at least the fourth time the sound of his own voice had made him jump. Of course he knew it was himself speaking, but somehow the disconnect kept getting him, convincing him that he'd heard Tatsumi coming or god forbid even in the room already, before his logical mind could reassert itself and remind him that if Tatsumi were coming, it'd be a Gushoushin's squawky voice he'd hear. They were his own words Tatsumi's voice kept saying, but logic still didn't have much sway over instinct. Or guilt, for that matter, which all just came back to how not okay he was with this.
Saya -- Tsuzuki -- Tsuzuki the petite fair-haired teenaged girl -- released his ear from her (his -- oh, hell, her) teeth with a soft wet popping sound and leaned back on the desk to peer up at him. "Why? What's the matter?"
"What do you mean, why?" He leaned back himself, planting his hands on the desk and trying to stand upright again, and then discovering that he couldn't do both at once. Damn, Tatsumi-san was tall. "I -- " But Saya was giving him Tsuzuki's innocent puzzled expression, and that was so disorienting it was very difficult to concentrate on being annoyed. It was just really weird to see Tsuzuki's expressions on Saya's face. Then again, he guessed it was probably pretty weird to see his own expressions on Tatsumi's face, so... oh, now that was just making him self-conscious about what kind of expressions he made. He groped. Not literally. "Well, for one thing, we are at work, and also -- " He kept getting distracted, looking at her. This was not how conversations with Saya or Yuma generally went, to say the least. "...don't you think they might be upset?"
Tsuzuki considered this. "Saya-chan wouldn't. She thinks Tatsumi's dreamy." Well, that was more than he'd needed to know. "And Tatsumi's mad anyway."
"All the more reason," Hisoka began, and then much too small and delicate hands seized his head and her mouth sealed over his, tongue flicking soft and quick inside his mouth, and somehow that managed to shut him up. The hands dropped after a minute, one grabbing him by his necktie (well, Tatsumi-san's necktie) and the other around his waist, pulling him between her thighs where her long skirt had bunched up, so he pushed right up into the desk and into her. The twin ideas of getting an erection from kissing Saya and of getting it with Tatsumi's cock made for a combination so skin-crawling it actually helped it go back down again. ...A little.
They'd holed up in the corner office after some of the initial confusion (and violence) over the body-switching had died down, Tsuzuki claiming in order to keep confusion to a minimum, but Hisoka suspected mostly to distract him from his horror of where Saya might have run off to with hisbody -- or Yuma with Tsuzuki's, for that matter. If so, this was definitely distracting. Not necessarily in the good way, either. When Tsuzuki had sat Saya's body up on the desk blotter and yanked him close, he'd been so alarmed he'd nearly knocked both of them over -- not the least of the reasons for which was that he seemed not to have entirely mastered the length of Tatsumi's legs just yet.
When Tsuzuki pulled away she was laughing, grinning at him, Saya's long slim legs wrapped securely around... Tatsumi's hips. "Hisoka, come on," she begged, wheedling, playing with the captive necktie -- now starting to pull it loose. He had no idea how to retie one of those. "It'll take Watari hours to figure out how to fix it -- maybe days. And besides, it'll be fun!"
And for a second the question was a dry, cynical weight on Hisoka's tongue of whether Tsuzuki'd still think it would be fun if he'd been the one who'd switched bodies with the Gushoushin, and then he bit down on it. It would sound like an accusation, and he didn't know how Tsuzuki would take it, or whether he really wanted to hear the answer. Still, it added one more layer of absurdity to this whole experience; being jealous of his own body. Probably the only tall, adult, man's body he would ever be in, for that matter. He guessed he couldn't really blame Tsuzuki for missing one of those.
Before he could start working himself into an actual melancholy, though, he was quite effectively diverted by his hand being smooshed into Saya's breast. He stared at this for half a second, not quite believing it had happened, and then yelped a little unmanfully and tried to retrieve it. Tsuzuki was still holding it in place, though, giggling, and that was a lot more like Saya, which did nothing to help him feel better about things. "It's okay. See? Aren't they neat?" Her hand pressed Hisoka's (Tatsumi's) closed, making fingers that were a lot larger than Hisoka was used to having crinkle into the pleated fabric, and Tsuzuki bit Saya's lip and wriggled on the desk. "Ooh. Feels good, too." She shifted position again and frowned. "I don't think Saya-chan wears a bra."
"Okay, way more information than I nee -- what are you doing?" It was pretty obvious, though; Tsuzuki had taken Saya's hands away (although for some reason Tatsumi's large hand had stayed securely on her breast) and was reaching around behind her in a way that thrust the soft rise much more firmly into his palm. Almost before he could make the obvious connections there was a soft purr of a zipper, and then Tsuzuki was shrugging Saya's shoulders out of the dress's sleeves, letting it pool in her lap and instantly proving his hypothesis. Hisoka tried to avert his eyes -- at least Tatsumi-san didn't seem to be pale enough to blush as easily as he did, thank heaven for small favors -- and then found them creeping back. "Tsuzuki!"
"What?" Still completely innocent. Saya's breasts were small and pert, with tiny dark nipples gone pebbly in the office's cool recycled air. Her hair fell in its thick braid over her shoulder, and Tsuzuki's expression on her face looked terribly pleased with itself. Hisoka struggled for words.
"Will you -- will you quit it, this is weird!"
Tsuzuki grabbed his wrists again, reeling him back in when he tried to escape. "Come on, don't you think Saya-chan is pretty? She's got great boobs, look -- "
"No thank you!" He couldn't seem to help it, though, at least from the corners of his eyes; Tsuzuki had seized one of his hands, Tatsumi's hands, he had to keep reminding himself, and was rubbing its palm over Saya's erect nipple. She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips, tight enough now that the fork between them pressed hard into the front of Tatsumi's suit trousers. There was heat there, even through the tangle of skirt, and it was soft, and when she squirmed this time he nearly lost his balance again, and had to lean into her to catch himself. And now no amount of skin-crawling seemed to help him: the breast his hand was teasing might be Saya's, but the expression, the parted lips and half-lidded eyes, that was all Tsuzuki.
"This is really weird," he said with his forehead to hers, all in a rush, and hearing Tatsumi-san's voice breathless and catching with arousal made him extremely uncomfortable.
"Mmm." Tsuzuki smiled almost sleepily, breathing fast through curving lips, and caught his gaze again. He reached up with one of Saya's hands and gently slid away the glasses Hisoka had almost been getting used to; he was relieved at first, since they'd been fogging up, but then found his vision went all blurry without them, too. Well, that was annoying. "It's kind of nice, though. I'm all squishy." Hisoka considered it briefly, and then decided he didn't even want to ask what that meant. "I've never been a girl before -- well, except in the Count's book, but I didn't really get to be, you know... But I guess you don't like girls so much, huh?"
Hisoka made a small noncommittal noise, but didn't confirm or deny that; mostly because he didn't really know himself. His only point of reference he could think of was Tsubaki-hime, and he still didn't like to think about that more than he'd had to, and even then... well, kissing her had been nice, in a way, but he didn't think he'd ever thought this far ahead, so to speak. Still, he didn't really think of himself as being... well, it was all very confusing. And that hadn't been Saya, who actually terrified him much more than Yuma did -- she was just so sweet about tormenting him that it was really deeply unnerving.
But it wasn't Saya; it was Tsuzuki. Apparently his empathy went wherever his mind did, and it still felt like Tsuzuki, not even a hair out of place. If he didn't look, it might as well just be Tsuzuki.
Well, except for the breasts.
...Which weren't bad at all, honestly. Just as an experiment, just out of curiosity, he moved his hand so he could flick a fingertip across the perking tip of one nipple, and Tsuzuki moaned. The soft heat pushed against him again -- against an erection that was definitely not his, and that was too weird to think about -- as she ground her hips forward, and he choked back a groan of his own. Then somehow Tsuzuki wasn't holding his hand on her breast at all anymore, it was just toying there all on its own, and the hand that had been holding it was now being slender and feminine right between the places where they'd been grinding together. Hisoka tried not to think about the ease of familiarity with which Tsuzuki put his hand on Tatsumi's cock.
He also tried not to look down when the small hand pulled down the zipper and brought Tatsumi's cock out, but was helpless not to. Some instincts no red-blooded male could ever prevent himself from obeying.
...Oh, yeah. Much bigger.
Great. Not like that knowledge would haunt him to the end of his days, or anything.
Tsuzuki seemed unconcerned, though. Mostly Tatsumi's fingers tugging at Saya's nipple (it was still very hard to make his brain think these things) seemed to be very distracting, and he, or she, was having trouble concentrating on the process she'd begun. Her hand stroked Tatsumi's cock a few slow, maddening times, making Hisoka murmur a small moan into her hair, and then Tsuzuki retrieved the other one and hiked up her skirt with it. Her legs released from around Tatsumi's hips just long enough to tug down Saya's panties and kick them off onto the floor, and then fastened around him again in a deathgrip, bare hard flesh pressing against bare soft damp flesh, a downy brush of hair. "Very nice," her voice breathed in his ear, waking up all its nerves with the blow of air, and it was distorted enough by arousal that it could have been anyone's voice at all. Hisoka made a helpless, wordless affirmative, wondering if he should reach to touch her, too, wondering how in the hell that worked, hoping he wouldn't come first.
"I still... really don't think we should be doing this," he voiced one last protest in a couple of panting breaths, after a moment, also mostly hoping that Tsuzuki wouldn't take him seriously. Tsuzuki laughed, which also tickled in the cup of his ear.
"Oh, like Yuma and Saya aren't doing the same thing with us right now."
Hisoka blinked for several long seconds, and then cringed, making a much less pleasant involuntary sound this time. "...god, don't make me think that! Why would you make me think that? Why would you make me think that when I'm hard?" Tsuzuki was still laughing, though, and he hated that jerk, and he loved that jerk, and for a minute he didn't think about Saya at all.
Then they were kissing again, Tsuzuki was kissing him again, and there was a jumble of movements, of sensations. And then he was inside her almost before he knew he was being guided there; almost before he even registered what was happening.
Oh. Squishy. Yes, he guessed now he understood. The wet heat that clasped him seemed to jangle along every other nerve in his body, like an electric shock, and he had to struggle to keep from shouting out loud. It was so slick it would be almost frictionless if it weren't so tight, a close grasping sleeve around him with a pulse all its own. He pushed into it like a mindless thing with nowhere else to go, aware of heat and of Tsuzuki, aware of Tsuzuki clasping him and crying out and pulling him in. Not aware of much else.
"Oh," she gasped. Whispered; almost sobbed. "Oh, that's..." He pumped his hips and she crested to meet him, sinking him hilt-deep, and lost all words in another moan; he could feel a tiny discordant note of discomfort mixing into Tsuzuki's soaring, overwhelming pleasure, but when he tried to stop she wouldn't let him. Those legs wrapped around him might have been thin, but they were strong. That was probably good to know. Her hands were unbuttoning Tatsumi's shirt now, fingers shaking, finally parting it and shoving both hands up his stomach and his chest, and again that little hard knot of suspicion twisted into his mind -- you missed this, you just wanted him one more time -- but it was gone on the swell of the next stroke. They met in a way they didn't when they were both men; not better, not righter or wronger -- not really -- just different. It was nice. This soft strangeness, this heat, it was all... good. Not better, but good.
He recovered the presence of mind to tweak her nipple again, and Tsuzuki let out a long, wavering moan, grinding her hips in a sudden desperate circular pattern that shifted Tatsumi's cock in nearly unimaginable ways inside her -- like being at the epicenter of a hot, wet earthquake. Hisoka's gasp was nearly a yelp, and he tweaked again (who wouldn't?) and clung to her small body with his other arm, holding it in tight against himself. Something, something else -- something like when he was doing this to Tsuzuki ordinarily and Tsuzuki wanted Hisoka to reach around and touch him, but how the hell was that supposed to work with a girl? He was already in... unless... He abandoned the nipple reluctantly and pushed his hand down, tangling it in her rucked-up skirt and then getting it free again, going lower, and finding -- well, finding Tatsumi's cock, and the open lips where she stretched around it. That wasn't it -- higher? He tried again, missed again, and then ran across -- small, even tinier than the bud of nipple he'd been teasing, but an amazing silvery bolt of something rammed through Tsuzuki and all the way to him; Tsuzuki buried a loud whimper in his shoulder, and Hisoka staggered and nearly fell off his feet. Okay. Okay. Safe to say that was it.
His fingers were slick from his explorations, and though he could feel that that spot was both fragile and almost too powerful, the slickness seemed to keep his touch within safe bounds. He circled it, nudged it, and Tsuzuki, Saya's body, shook against his chest like she was seizing. Her hips kept pumping, a desperate semicircular tide that made him dizzy and weak-kneed, and it was all he and the binding cord of empathy between them could do to keep him teasing the tiny little nub with anything like presence of mind. He didn't have to worry about it long, though; in what seemed like a matter of seconds Tsuzuki was whining and digging Saya's fingers into Tatsumi's chest, the foggy red need in his mind building up to a crescendo at the edge of Hisoka's consciousness, and at least it was comforting to know that some things about Tsuzuki never changed.
And then he was there too, dragged along by Tsuzuki's orgasm into his own as always, and for that single blind white moment it didn't matter where they were or who they were, as long as they were together.
He kept his eyes closed for a long time, leaning on the desk and on Tsuzuki's -- or Saya's, whichever -- shoulder, breathing. He felt sticky and befouled all over, but in a sort of wonderful way, and Tatsumi-san was still much too large and too tall for this to be comfortable. It was all right. For right now, everything was fine.
Then, with no more warning than a faint cry of triumph from down the other end of the hall, there was a rush of light and color and wind, and then weight, size, and positioning were suddenly and startlingly rearranged. Unbalanced, Hisoka fell on top of Tsuzuki with a heavy "whuf!", and only after getting his breath back was able to open his eyes and blink around himself.
"What was -- " Tsuzuki started to say blurrily, and then realized the same thing Hisoka was at the same time: his own body was small again, Tsuzuki's back to being larger and male, and they were in almost exactly the same position they had been just a moment before. Except with the necessary anatomical rearrangements, of course. And that they were on the floor in the copy room. With what looked like an economy-sized tube of some sparkly, pale pink substance labeled O'My Kiwi Strawberry. And that there were thick red candles, god knew why, standing lit and half-burned on the filing cabinets, and on the carpet... were those rose petals?
A brief, stunned silence followed.
"I didn't know it was possible to be as disturbed as I am right now," Hisoka said, finally.
"I think maybe we should take an early lunch," Tsuzuki said.
They almost made it out of the building before the shadows caught up to them, but not quite.