UR Chapter 94

Chapter 94

“……”

Beom-ho pulled his mouth away from I-bom’s lips. I-bom swayed on unsteady legs, the sudden rush of oxygen after being starved of air making his head spin. Beom-ho reached out and wiped away the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. Beneath his swollen lips, a thin strand of saliva stretched down. When I-bom turned his head toward the kitchen island, he spotted a tissue box and reached for it to wipe his mouth.

“Has the coughing eased?”

“Cough, cough… Y-yeah. I just need to… ah…”

The rough kiss had left him too dazed to think straight, his eyes stinging. He blinked, swallowing the tears that had pooled beneath his eyes.

“I-bom.”

Long fingers reached up to caress his cheek. Sensitive and on edge, he flinched when the touch brushed past his ear.

“Hh, uh…”

Beom-ho’s gaze lingered on him, then his hand slid down—earlobe, neck—trailing slowly until his lips buried themselves in the curve of I-bom’s neck. He licked upward in a slow sweep, and the veins standing taut beneath the pale skin twitched under the attention.

“Ah—hhhk…!”

The sharp cry rang through the quiet house. Beom-ho caught I-bom’s restless hands and pulled them to rest around his waist. Between the hard, stone-like muscles built from training, the interlocked fingers flushed red, tracing over the faint marks his touch had left.

“W-what… are you—ah…!”

One by one, raw, unhidden marks—claims of ownership—bloomed along the pale nape. Before he could recover from the flood of unfamiliar sensation, Beom-ho lifted him effortlessly and laid him out on the dining table.

“Hh… what are you… going to…”

“Did you finish your meal?”

A question about food? Now? I-bom nodded, chest heaving. The cool chill of the marble table seeped into the back of his neck, prickling against bare skin. The sensation was strange. His thin cotton pajamas did little to hold in warmth, and lying here, he felt like a meal prepared and presented for him.

“Y-yeah… I… finished…”

“Is that so?”

Before he could finish his answer, a strawberry was placed in his mouth.

“…Strawberry.”

Turning his head, he saw a bowl piled high with fresh strawberries, dew still clinging to their skin. The kind too expensive for him to ever think about buying. He swallowed. The tart aroma seeped into his cheeks, making his mouth water. Blinking in surprise, he glanced at Beom-ho—his lowered gaze was serious.

“You enjoyed them last time too, didn’t you?”

Like following an order, I-bom slowly bit down on the berry he was fed. The plump fruit crushed sweetly in his mouth. Then his thick fingers pressed between his teeth, pushing the berry’s pulp around as if he were chewing it for him. Sweet, fragrant juice smeared through every gap, the taste spreading thickly, leaving his jaw aching in a strange way.

“Mm, don’t spill.”

He frowned, wanting to spit it out, but Beom-ho just spoke quietly and shook his head.

Why… is he feeding me like this?

Feeling oddly self-conscious, I-bom accepted each berry like a baby bird, swallowing slowly. When Beom-ho’s fingers rubbed the inside of his juice-slicked tongue, pink strawberry nectar dribbled between his clenched teeth.

“Mmff, mmh…”

Through his damp, clouded vision, he could see Beom-ho’s fingers. His sharp sense of smell naturally followed the trail of the red juice flowing over them.

“Uh…”

The sweetness was dizzying, almost intoxicating. Between those long fingers, the pink liquid ran freely. Worried it might stain his clothes, I-bom instinctively bit down lightly on them.

“Mmh, hhff…”

The look in Beom-ho’s eyes was unreadable, making I-bom awkwardly shift as he cautiously sucked on the fingers caught between his teeth.

“Mmm…”

Just a little more.

As I-bom’s tongue moved to take his fingers in deeper, Beom-ho pressed them lightly to his tongue before pulling them out. Mixed saliva and strawberry juice stretched in a glistening string. Holding I-bom’s chin without hesitation, Beom-ho looked down at him.

“Uh…”

I-bom nodded faintly, looking up. In the light, his sharp, symmetrical features were shadowed, making him seem almost frightening.

A predator. A tiger. A pureblood beastman.

Something about Beom-ho’s inhuman nature made I-bom’s chest churn. Fear, excitement, and raw desire swelled together. Staring at the shadow hanging over him, he opened his mouth.

“I have… a question.”

Out of nowhere, a memory surfaced—of a cheetah beastman in heat biting someone’s neck. Right, how had the two of them met in the first place? It had started with a blind date arranged through Soo-hyun’s misunderstanding, and that blind date itself had been prompted by a cheetah beastman causing trouble, which they’d tried to redirect.

A strange thought struck I-bom—maybe… Beom-ho might “want to eat” him the way that cheetah beastman had. After all, excessive excitement and sexual desire were hard to separate cleanly.

“…Are you… going to get me full, and then… eat me?”

“…Ha.”

Beom-ho clicked his tongue and let out a short, dry laugh.

I acknowledge. That had been acting like a man out of his mind.

Eun Beom-ho knew full well that the composure and tightly restrained pheromones he always carried were scattering recklessly, yet he found it difficult to calm them.

Before his eyes, I-bom lay on the dining table, his body shifting and revealing the flat belly that had been hidden beneath his clothes. His waist was not only flat but slender to the point of fragility.

Back when I-bom had collapsed, Sung-woo had clicked his tongue and said the boy was malnourished. That he needed to be fed well.

“You… you care so much about what I eat. Usually… people don’t go that far for someone else…”

Of course, I-bom would never tell him the thoughts he kept hidden behind that diligent, hardworking front. But Beom-ho wanted to simply scoop him up and bring him into his life. To pour out everything he had onto him.

He wanted to fill that flat belly with good food until it softened with a healthy layer of flesh. He wanted him to live happily. It was just that simple of a thought. He cooked bubbling soups and braised meats to feed him… yet somehow, what he ended up setting on the table was I-bom himself.

“…Even if a pureblood beastman can transform into an animal, the difference from a beast is whether we have reason or not.”

Hoo…

Beom-ho let out a sigh. Was it thirst or hunger gnawing at him? Why did he always end up so impatient in front of this person? Even he didn’t understand it.

“The very fact that we’re talking right now—”

He rolled up his sleeves, cooling his heated body temperature. Between the tensed muscles of his forearms, blue veins stood out sharply.

“…means I still have my reason.”

When in his beast form, his instincts had taken over without thinking, licking and rubbing between I-bom’s legs. But now he was in human form—a rational being. He put reason before instinct, and he guarded himself fiercely against losing his head to desire like that cheetah had.

“And I don’t bite or devour people on impulse.”

“……”

He spoke slowly, carefully, as if pressing his tongue and lips into the words to anchor them. The urge to tear off the reins of reason and simply shove himself deep into that flat belly burned wildly inside him. He bit the inside of his lip, the grind of his teeth filling his mouth with the salty taste of blood.

“Besides, you’re far too thin, I-bom.”

He wanted to part that narrow opening, push himself in, carve a path shaped to his length, and see that fragile belly bulge and throb to his size. He wanted to fill him so full that his belly rounded with the outline of his shaft. He wanted to rut into him like an animal until he was stuffed not with food but with his seed.

Despite the refined expression on his face, his thoughts were a chaotic mess.

“Look at this belly.”

Beom-ho gathered I-bom’s hands above his head, lacing their fingers together as if to bind him. Then he slowly stroked his trembling waist.

“Does your belly… feel full?”

“I-it… tickles…”

When he spread his palm, I-bom’s waist fit easily into his grip. His hand drifted slowly over the flat stomach as though measuring how far he could go inside.

“Mm… mmh… t-this feels… weird…”

At first, I-bom had giggled at the ticklish touch, but as the hand began to wander more deliberately, his breath grew shallow.

“And now your belly’s full?”

I-bom’s waist twisted and bent. His flushed cheeks twitched faintly.

“Mm… is it full?”

Each light tap sent a mix of strange excitement, fear, and anticipation rushing through him. The air between them thickened with pheromones.

“Before tigers go into heat… we feed our partner until they’re full.”

“……”

“They have to be well-fed to endure the whole mating season.”

“…Hhk!”

“And we check what they’ve eaten—to see if they’ve eaten enough to last through it. It’s a trait of our species.”

Beom-ho slipped his fingers under the elastic waistband of I-bom’s pajama pants. The bulge there was obvious, straining hard enough to ache, but he calmly kept his eyes on I-bom’s face as he hooked his finger into the band and tugged it. The distance was dangerous. He wished Beom-ho would either pretend not to notice… or notice without saying anything. The uncertainty between them only made the tension sharper.

“…You’re hard.”

He whispered it quietly.

“Ah… d-don’t… don’t look…”

He was curious. Thinking of I-bom’s pink, rain-dampened nipples and the soft flesh inside his lips, he was certain I-bom’s cock would be just as appealing and beautiful—something he’d want to take into his mouth.

“Why not? You got hard because of me, didn’t you?”

I-bom’s face flushed deep red. It wasn’t wrong… but with that firm tone, he didn’t know how to answer, only panting for air. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered in a small, shrinking voice.

“B-but… I… I’ve never… kissed anyone before, so I… I just…”

As if entranced, Beom-ho tugged his pants down to below his knees.

“I-bom.”

The thin cotton pooled around his ankles with a soft sound. His smooth thighs, once clenched, loosened slightly.

“Knowing you got aroused from looking at me… I like that.”

Between the smooth, hair-fine fuzz of his delicate scrotum, his pink shaft gave a small twitch.

“Even here, you’re pink.”

“W-why would you… say that…”

The twitching cock slipped into Beom-ho’s mouth. I-bom’s eyes flew wide as his hips twisted.

“Ah—hh!”

The plump pink length rocked forward and back inside Beom-ho’s mouth, as if thrusting. He sucked as though savoring a treat, cheeks hollowing with the effort. Slick with saliva, I-bom’s flushed tip peeked out again, and from the small slit, clear fluid dribbled freely.

“Hhh, that’s… that’s dirty, ahh…!”

I-bom cried out, pushing at his head, but Beom-ho only buried his face deeper between his thighs.