Jon felt his hot breath on her neck. Even just the feeling of having his body in close proximity to hers was eliciting new and strange sensations - and while she wasn't familiar enough with this body to know them like she knew her own, the general message was pretty unmistakeable. "You...you can't make me..."
He frowned. "Make you?" he said, sounding a bit indignant. "Of course not...but do I have to? You feel the same way, you know it...why are you so scared of it?"
She felt ashamed for even suggesting such a thing. "P-please," she said, "let's...let's just go down to the mixer..."
He thought, then sighed, then nodded. "A-all right," he said. "But when we're tired of that...just be honest with yourself, okay?"
They went down to the party and split up, mingling with the crowd. But even in among probably a hundred people, Jon felt like she was drifting through a sea of ghosts. She was off in her own world, unable to even pay attention to the people around her. The feelings...weren't going away.
He was right, in a sense. This body did want him. She knew the body he wore as intimately as he knew hers; she'd grown up in it, after all. She knew the feel of his hands, his arms, how they were strong but not rough, and she couldn't stop thinking about how they'd feel on her...on her breasts, around her waist...every part of him, she knew, and every part of him, she could imagine being put to use...
She kept glancing back to him as she drifted around the room. This body wanted him...but did she? Why was she scared of it? Because she was really a boy, she supposed. Because to be a guy and act like a girl...that was some kind of wrong, wasn't it? But she was a girl for now...but if she did this, when she got back to being a guy, back to being herself...how would she feel? But if she didn't...would she always wonder what it would have been like? This was her chance to know...but what if she found she wanted to forget, and couldn't?
She looked around for him but couldn't spot him. Not looking where she was going, she kept drifting through the crowd...until she walked right into someone. Even before she looked she knew it was him; it felt like before, when she'd walked into him, only this time it was his chest her breasts were pressed against, not his back. And she could feel something pressing against her...
Mulan put his hands on her shoulders, and she looked up at him. "I don't feel like mingling tonight," he said. "Do you?"
