Ch.289289. Everything’s Great Except for the Perceptiveness – side. Hwanabi
by fnovelpia
“…Is this supposed to feel good?”
Still lying on the bed as always, he stared at the ceiling and muttered with a tone of disbelief. As I gently fixed his bangs, I smiled slightly and replied.
“Why? Doesn’t it feel nice and soft when you rest your head there?”
“Soft, you say…?”
“Isn’t it?”
Not to brag, but my thighs are universally acknowledged for their softness. And by “universally,” I mean by the person currently using them as a pillow—my husband.
“Yeah, they are soft. They’re soft, but…”
“But it doesn’t feel good?”
“No, it feels good too. But that’s not what I meant.”
Disappointed that things weren’t going as he expected, he grumbled under his breath while sneaking glances at me. Then he quietly closed his mouth, apparently realizing that complaining further would only work against him.
“You know what I mean, right?”
“Hmm, not really. But I can tell you had some suspicious expectations.”
“When you put it that way, it makes me sound like someone with impure thoughts…”
His face already betrays that he’s had those kinds of thoughts three or four times. He’s pretending otherwise, thinking he won’t get caught if we don’t make eye contact.
Sometimes he’s incredibly perceptive, but other times he’s completely clueless. Is he doing this on purpose? I’d like to see his expression more clearly, but from my position giving him a lap pillow, I can’t really see his face well.
Being too big can be inconvenient at times like this. I sometimes think I’d prefer smaller breasts. Being unnecessarily large just means they rub against clothes, feel heavy, and are uncomfortable…
“All I can see from here are your breasts.”
“Do you dislike that?”
“…I don’t dislike it.”
No, I guess they shouldn’t get smaller. That would greatly disappoint him, since he loves breasts so much. For my husband’s sake, it’s probably better if they remain on the larger side.
“Hey.”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Do you prefer large breasts?”
“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”
“Just conducting a little market research.”
“Market research for what exactly…?”
“Never mind that, just answer. And by the way, ‘no comment’ isn’t an option. It’s either yes or no.”
“What happens if I say no?”
Why don’t you try it and find out?
“Do you want to know?”
I stopped stroking his bangs and looked down at him quietly.
He swallowed nervously, fidgeted with his right hand, and finally answered.
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
As a reward for his satisfactory answer, I gently tickled his chin and then poked his cheek.
He doesn’t seem to mind my playful touch, as he opens his eyes and lets out a heated sigh.
“I think I understand how North Korean citizens feel…”
“Are you saying I forced you to agree?”
“Well, not exactly.”
It seems like that’s exactly what he means. I shifted my upper body back slightly to look at his face. As soon as our eyes met, he looked away.
I slipped my hand inside the collar of his shirt. Then I gently stroked his firm pectoral muscles with my index and middle fingers before withdrawing my hand. Finding it ticklish, he flinched in surprise.
“What are you doing? Suddenly touching someone’s chest like that…”
“Why? You’re not just ‘someone’ anymore. This is my man’s chest, so shouldn’t I be allowed to touch it?”
“Even if I’m not a stranger, shouldn’t you ask permission first? I always ask for your permission.”
We probably shouldn’t compare men’s and women’s chests as equivalent… but ultimately, setting gender aside, they’re both chests, right?
So, if you want to touch, it’s only proper to get the other person’s permission first.
“…”
Yes, I know that, but somehow I didn’t want to admit it. It felt like admitting defeat.
Not wanting to give up control of the conversation, I unbuttoned one button of his shirt.
“Then, you can touch my chest too. I’ll touch yours, and you touch mine.”
“In this position?”
Still resting his head on my knee, he wiggled his fingers and tapped his abdomen as if to draw attention to himself.
“You can still touch me in that position.”
“I could, but wouldn’t that be unfair to me? You’re sitting up while I’m lying down.”
“Then, you can sit up and touch me.”
“…Really?”
“Yes. If you’re that eager to touch me.”
“Are you telling me to get up or to stay down…?”
“…I don’t know. Figure it out yourself.”
I set the stage perfectly, and now he’s making this awkward by questioning everything. He’s great in many ways, but at times like this, he shows his surprisingly timid side.
“…”
Gulp. He swallows and slowly raises his upper body. Due to the change in position, the second button of his already loose shirt comes undone. Through the open shirt, I can glimpse his well-defined pectoral muscles and clear collarbone.
How does he find time to work out consistently when he spends almost all day with me? Even when I first met him, he was quite muscular, but since turning twenty, his muscles have developed further—nicely defined, pleasant to touch, and even to taste…
“…Would you turn around?”
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
Snapping out of my inappropriate thoughts, I quickly turned around as he asked, presenting my back to him.
His arms—firm yet gentle—wrapped around my waist. He was embracing me from behind. Feeling somewhat tense, I obediently shifted my hips and settled between his thighs as he guided me.
“Not uncomfortable, are you?”
Feeling I shouldn’t speak, I just nodded. He muttered, “Good, I’m glad,” and hugged me a little tighter.
Here it comes. I swallowed hard and waited for his move. Since I touched him first, I was prepared to let him take some liberties.
But even after a moment, he didn’t make any moves. Five seconds, six seconds, seven seconds. Almost ten seconds passed without a word from him. Puzzled, I turned my head slightly and asked while glancing at him from the corner of my eye.
“Why are you just sitting there?”
“I just prefer being like this.”
“…What?”
What does he mean by that? As I stared at him, he seemed embarrassed and avoided my gaze.
“Well… if I just start touching you because you touched my chest, won’t things be awkward afterward?”
“…”
Is my husband seriously saying this right now?
I narrowed my eyes at him without realizing it. Either oblivious or ignoring my glare, he continued looking elsewhere and kept talking.
“We’re not just seeing each other for a day or two, so there’s no need to rush things and make it awkward. Let’s just forget about it and—Ack!”
Annoyed by his nonsensical words, I twisted my upper body around and grabbed his chest. As I seized his firm pectoral muscles with both hands, he jerked back in shock.
Judging by his startled face, he was genuinely surprised. Of course he would be—it’s probably the first time he’s been groped after doing so much groping himself.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
He asks with a mix of bewilderment and embarrassment. I straddled his thighs, pinning him down with my knees to establish dominance, and answered.
“Are you playing games with me?”
“Huh? No…”
“I’m offering myself to you, so why won’t you touch me? Do you actually not want to?”
I didn’t want to say this out of embarrassment… but at this point, shouldn’t he take the hint and lead?
Look at the situation. Today is a weekend and the end of the year, and we finally have time alone together. I even dressed provocatively for him to enjoy, but he’s not making any moves. How can I not be frustrated?
Good looks, good in bed, good personality, good education, good family background—is that all? Everything else is perfect, but sometimes he’s completely clueless at crucial moments.
“Nabi, it’s not that I don’t want to touch you…”
“Then what is it?”
“If I touch you now, I don’t think I’ll stop at just your chest.”
“…Ha.”
I felt something snap in my mind.
Grabbing his shoulders and lifting my thighs, I stood up and looked down at him.
“You know what? I think I need to completely reprogram you.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean…”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you responded like a machine when I press the right buttons? Then you wouldn’t have to overthink things.”
“I’m not a robot. Pressing buttons doesn’t mean—”
“Why not? At night, you’re practically a robot. A malfunctioning one that doesn’t listen even when I tell you to stop.”
“Someone might think that’s true if they heard you…”
“I still have the video we took on our honeymoon. Want to watch it again?”
“…You still have that?”
“I kept it safe in case you tried to deny it like this.”
Of course, it wasn’t originally meant to be used as evidence. But the original purpose doesn’t matter now. What’s important is whether what I’m saying is true.
“Wait, but listen. Since we’re on the topic, am I really that selfish in bed?”
“What did you say…?”
“I think I’m pretty considerate of you… aren’t I? That’s why you often take the lead too.”
“No, you’re not. You’re like a runaway train with broken brakes. If we calculated the ratio of times I had control, it would be about 1 to 9.”
“…”
“What? Do you think I’m lying?”
He didn’t respond, but I could tell from his expression. His face said, “Surely I’m not that bad.”
“Then, shall we make a bet?”
“What kind of bet?”
“We’ll watch the video from our honeymoon together. If I’m right, you’ll be my slave for a day. If I’m wrong, I’ll be yours. How about it?”
“…Alright, let’s do it. Play the video.”
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