Naturally, it was rough. No one was bearing the brunt of Pete’s changes harder than his roommate. And nobody felt more obligated to deal with it head-on.
“Pete, we need to talk.”
Oliver got back to their dorm an hour after Pete, well into the middle of the night. Seeing his friend still up, reading in bed, he figured this was the time.
“Why so formal, Oliver?” Pete said, closing the book with a smile. “Not feeling up to it tonight?”
“Not about that. You know what I mean. Don’t play games. Albright briefed me. You nearly took out the Barthé twins for daring to speak with Guy?”
Oliver pushed past his friend’s deflections, getting to the heart of the matter. He and Nanao had run into Albright on their return to campus and gotten up to speed. Pete snorted, figuring that was Oliver’s source.
“Knew he’d snitch. But yeah, it’s true. They sounded like they were trying to pry Guy away from us, so I gave them a little warning. Can’t believe anyone still takes us that lightly.”
“I doubt that’s the truth. Given their standing, they wouldn’t be trying to poach him. They were just discussing possibilities. You were eavesdropping and overreacted. And you know it.”
Oliver was quite sure of himself. The way Pete had been acting lately, it was only a matter of time before he bumped antlers with someone somewhere. On the receiving end of Oliver’s glare, Pete didn’t bat an eye.
“Maybe. But does that really matter? It’s a critical juncture for him; anyone saying the wrong thing at a time like this deserves some backlash. I’d rather overreact like this and scare people off than risk overlooking a legit attempt and losing Guy to it. Make an example of ’em,” Pete said, then added with a sigh, “Though, I got interrupted this time.”
Rubbing his brow, Oliver hung his head. Pete’s position was far more intractable than he’d hoped.
“The way you think is way past ‘friendship.’ Even allowing for this being Kimberly. Guy saved the Barthés, and that made them closer. This is a connection Guy earned himself through his actions in the lava tree mold. Did you not consider how your choices might have cost him that?”
“Sure, maybe he’ll lose a few connections. But I’ll make that up to him. Find him some friends that get our deal and don’t run their damn mouths off. Don’t get the wrong idea—I’m not objecting to Guy having friends outside our group. I’m just batting away the pests. If we don’t, they’ll only start siphoning away his nectar.”
Pete was shrugging this off like it was normal, and Oliver clenched his fists. By what criteria was Pete separating “pests” from the rest? If that included everything Guy took an interest in outside the Sword Roses, then that would be no better than shackles around his limbs. Pete himself insisted otherwise, but the instant the measure of it lay in Pete’s subjective scales, it was already wrong.
Yet, at the same time, Oliver understood that Pete’s sense of what was normal was growing ever hazier. Becoming more of a mage, acquiring more techniques—one’s perspective on the world was bound to shift. He’d learned just how far his hands could reach. Living as an ordinary had made the hearts of others an insurmountable challenge. But not anymore. Everything he’d learned here gave him the means to meddle. And even in the magical world, reversis were rare. If he polished his charm techniques, he could entice mages of any gender.
“Please, Pete. Let my words sink in. You don’t need to be so high-strung—Guy’s not gonna leave us that easy. Miligan was right about that. If you have faith in him, you’ll know you don’t need to build walls. Katie’s just as anxious, but she’s pulling it off—”
As he pleaded, Oliver moved over to Pete’s bed. Pete got up, snuggling against his chest. He closed his eyes and smiled.
“Enough, Oliver. You’ve made your point, and I’ve heard it. I definitely acted without considering Nanao’s efforts with Valois. I’ll pick an approach that won’t cause such frictions next time. Deal?”
“Wait, Pete, that’s not even my point—”
Sensing the topic drifting away, Oliver tried to steer it back—but Pete’s lips sealed his, just as Nanao’s had earlier that evening. The fact that Oliver was doing this again before the date even changed made him shudder—and Pete only pulled away when he was sure Oliver had been silenced.
“I don’t mind you lecturing me. You’re always so earnest about it, and that makes me feel loved. But today, I’d rather be comforted. Being with Guy, unable to touch him—it was pretty hard to bear. I’m frustrated! If it wasn’t for that curse, we could have pulled him into a threesome.”
“……!”
Oliver couldn’t believe his ears. Even Pete’s admissions of fragility were laced with an edge of something frightening. He could tell Pete genuinely regretted not being able to make that threesome happen, and Pete would have said exactly the same thing if Guy was here with them. His smile would not have changed with more members in their tryst; his only concern was how to love them all at once. In Pete’s mind, there was no contradiction there.
The kiss over, Pete went back to hugging. His face buried in Oliver’s shirt, sniffing him—verifying the lingering fragrance he’d noticed on their first embrace. Sure of it, he smirked up at Oliver.
“Oh, you were with Nanao before? So you’re not the least bit pent-up. Heh-heh… She beat me to the punch. Guess we’ll have to take it nice and slow.”
“Wait…Pete, wait…”
Oliver was pulled into bed, his protests in vain. His robe was stripped off, his buttons undone, and Pete’s fingers slid into his open shirtfront. Pete’s foreplay skills were getting better daily, and Oliver let out a moan, his rational mind slipping away.
How did we end up like this? The act itself is one thing; I can’t refuse you, so I’ve accepted that. But I’d like to talk to you first. To fully understand the scent of danger I’m getting from you. To consider together how you should proceed. That’s really all I want.
“…Pete…!!”
“Eep?!”
The panic and grief building up within had burst. Oliver’s hands went around Pete’s back, locking onto his erogenous zones, pressing hard into his skin, and doubling the mana flow with pinpoint accuracy. Pete’s body jumped, and his offensive faltered; Oliver pressed the advantage, turning the tables, getting his hands all over him. Silencing Pete’s resistance with a kiss, he peeled his clothes away so fast, he nearly took the skin with them, then he wet a finger with saliva and excavated Pete’s navel with it. The mana stimulation flowing there was the last straw, and the overwhelming surge of pleasure rising up within swallowed Pete whole.
“Ah…! Wh-where’s this coming from, Oliver? You’re not usually so force— Hnahhhh!”
He wasn’t about to give Pete enough leeway to offer feedback. Generally, Oliver took his sweet time working up to things, but there were no such considerations today. He was going for maximum effectiveness, starting an avalanche of pleasure—and keeping him there. Applying healing principles to heavy petting was Oliver’s field of expertise, and however quick he’d learned, Pete was still nowhere near his level. And thus, when Oliver meant business, Pete was left writhing helplessly in bed.
“S-stop! Hold up, Oliver! Gimme a second to—”
“…You didn’t wait for me,” Oliver muttered, tears in his eyes.
Even as he spoke, his fingers were still prodding Pete’s known weak points. Pete’s back arced like a bow, past the point of speech, but that act played into Oliver’s hands, too. The stimulation was far too intense, the pleasure way too strong—Pete’s mind went blank.
“Ahh—”
And as the orgasm took hold, the vital restraints within, long since straining, gave way. The blood drained from his slack features, he shoved Oliver away with both hands, scrabbling at the sheets. Curling up in the corner, arms clutched to his chest, quivering in silence.
“…Pete?”
Baffled by this unexpected response, Oliver moved close on one knee—and then the process started. A faint glow surrounded Pete, and within that mystic light, his very figure transformed. His shoulders broadened slightly, and the two mounds on his chest subsided; his body was rapidly switching to his other polarity.
“?!”
“…I said…stop…” Pete sobbed, mid-change.
Oliver watched, stunned. It was over in mere minutes. Pete had remained small of stature, so the difference was not readily apparent. Yet, what had happened was clear. The faint trace of mana each mage’s body perpetually gave off bore a distinct signature, and generally, that changed so little, other mages could identify one another by it. But Pete’s signature was markedly different from a moment ago. Not something possible if the nature of the change had only affected his exterior.
“…Per the phases of the moon, I’d normally lean male right now,” Pete confessed, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been keeping myself female through sheer self-control. I didn’t mention it, but…for a while now…”
This was a surprise to Oliver. He had noticed Pete had been female for some time; as Pete acclimated to the whole reversi thing, he’d learned to pick his form at will. But that did not mean he could entirely ignore the natural reversi cycle. Oliver himself had no firsthand experience with the difficulties of resisting that, but it was not hard to imagine the toll was considerable.
“…Why force yourself…?” he asked Pete.
“Because I wanted to do this with you, obviously!”
Pete’s cry was choked with tears, his back turned adamantly away. And that gouged a deep hole in Oliver’s chest.
What a foolish thing to ask. That had likely been the most tactless response imaginable—he regretted it deeply. He should have known better. If no one else, Oliver alone should have immediately grasped this cause.
“I take that back, Pete. Please…won’t you turn and face me?”
His apology emotional, he pleaded with those delicate shoulders. Pete hesitated for a long, long time, and when he did turn, he was still trembling. His body was very much male.
“I would like to make this up to you. Shall we carry right along?”
“Huh—?”
Pete looked startled, but Oliver ran a hand down his side, making him jump.
“Eeek?! Wh-what are you doing? I’m a boy now…!”
“Honestly, I’ve never really minded that. You’re you.”
That came without hesitation. Oliver gently stroked Pete’s bare skin, and each time, incredible pleasure shot up the reversi’s spine. Before he knew it, Pete was pressed up against Oliver, moaning. Pete had yet to make love in this body, and each sensation it provided was terrifyingly novel. He’d unconsciously drawn a line, never asking for it in this form—but Oliver stepped right across that boundary.
“I’m more familiar with the workings here. It’s actually easier,” he whispered in Pete’s ear. “Don’t hold back—give yourself over to it. Today, I want to.”
A shock ran down Pete’s back. His hands and feet went limp—and no further thought was possible.