UR Chapter 105

Chapter 105

Through the steady patter of falling water, the clean lines of a bare, well-proportioned back came into view. Broad, even shoulders framed a straight spine, with finely defined muscles running smoothly down the expanse of his back. That faint scent of damp earth, which always lingered whenever they stood side by side, drifted subtly to I-bom’s nose.

“Beom—”

“Haa… I-bom… ssi…”

Just as I-bom opened his mouth to call him, a low moan slipped out from between those smooth back muscles. Beneath the tense spread of his shoulder blades came the sound of hot, ragged breaths.

No way.

Without thinking, I-bom leaned against the wall, hiding himself in the shadows.

“Mm… haa…”

In the steam-filled shower stall, the panting was unmistakable. His shoulders moved in a rhythmic tremor. I-bom’s gaze drifted downward. Between his slightly parted, firmly planted thighs, the shadow of his erect length was stark and clear.

Drip… drip.

Thick liquid dripped down with a wet splash, pooling on the floor. Amid the sweet fragrance of soap and steam came a sudden, sharp trace of the musky scent of release.

“…Ah.”

I-bom clamped a hand over his mouth before the sound escaped. So this was why Beom-ho had told him to come in thirty minutes. His ears burned red from witnessing something he shouldn’t have. Worse still, a faint, involuntary heat stirred in his own lower belly at the sound of the man’s voice and breath.

“Mm—”

The memory of a hot tongue tracing along his skin, the teasing whisper against his ear, came rushing back. I-bom bit his lip, pulse quickening. The damp sounds and ragged breaths filled his head, and before he realized it, his fingers began to inch downward toward himself.

Clunk—

Without warning, the door swung open.

“What, is that you, madam?”

The familiar voice cut through the steam. Standing there, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, Beom-ho’s bare body was still warm from the shower. The scent of soap and heat brushed I-bom’s cheek. It felt illicit, like getting caught doing something bad, and he instinctively stepped back.

“…I-bom?”

There’s a saying that when you’re truly flustered, you can’t make any excuse at all. Standing there with the towel in hand, face-to-face with a freshly showered, naked man, I-bom froze. The instant their eyes met, his face flushed crimson.

“Ah—! I… I’m sorry.”

He jerked his head down, voice trembling.

If he had just pretended not to see, it could have ended there. But apologizing outright made it impossible to act as if nothing had happened.

“…When did you get here?”

After a short silence, Beom-ho spoke carefully. I-bom lifted his head slightly, then quickly dropped it again.

“Uh… Beom-ho.”

Raising his head again, he glanced toward the man. With the room mostly dark, the only light came from behind him, streaming from the shower stall and casting a halo-like reflection around his shoulders. The image of that veined, rigid length rose unbidden in I-bom’s mind, making his words stumble.

“…Ah, um, well, the, the madam asked me… to, um, bring you a towel… I, I wasn’t trying to peek, really.”

He couldn’t help but notice the way the water traced over the firm outline of Beom-ho’s chest, glistening under the light. He swallowed, hard.

“I-I came too early, right? I couldn’t wait the whole thirty minutes… but… I didn’t see from the start.”

He wanted to shut his own mouth before he said anything else—sneaking in like a rat only to witness that… He could only imagine what Beom-ho must think. Bold, shameless Kang I-bom? His tongue flicked nervously against his teeth as he trembled.

“….”

Beom-ho looked down at him in silence, his dark eyes fixed intently on I-bom’s flushed face. That gaze seemed to strip him bare, and I-bom’s knees felt weak. Raising his arm, Beom-ho leaned against the doorway, blocking the only way out.

“Yeah? And what exactly didn’t you see from the start?”

“Th-that… I mean… it’s normal for a man, you know… so…”

His gaze bore into I-bom’s.

“Normal for a man?”

Even without specifying, I-bom’s ears burned hot. The image of him clutching himself, the heavy drops falling to the floor, was still vivid. He had seen it once before—but with a clear head now, the bulge beneath that towel felt far more imposing than before.

“Uh… I mean—”

Watching him flounder, Beom-ho furrowed his brows.

“…You saw everything, didn’t you?”

* * *

“Uh… well, it’s… a natural… bodily thing, but I…”

“I’m sorry.”

He rubbed his face lightly with one hand, his low voice trembling with embarrassment.

I-bom slowly looked at him.

“I tried to hold it in, but it just wouldn’t go down. I thought I could… deal with it quickly within thirty minutes. Showing you something like this… it’s not very adult of me.”

Pressing at his brow, he swept a hand down his face, a flicker of troubled eyes showing between his fingers. Yet, judging from the way his arousal still stood firm, he clearly hadn’t been able to calm himself. He bit his lower lip.

“If you call this beastly and say you don’t want any part of it… I wouldn’t have any excuse. I’m sorry again.”

He gave a slight bow, and at the same moment, the thin towel slung loosely over his hips slipped to the floor.

“Beom-ho, your towel—”

Almost without thinking—just as he would when working a service job—I-bom crouched quickly to pick it up, then lifted his head in surprise.

Slap.

Something warm and firm brushed sharply against the side of his face, right between his cheek and nose. The absurdity of it stunned him. It was exactly what he thought it might be—hot, hard, and flushed. Eyes going wide, I-bom glanced at what had just smacked his cheek.

“Uh…?”

“I… I-bom,” Beom-ho stammered, quickly cupping his face.

“Are you okay? Your cheek’s not swollen?”

Getting hit in the face by a man’s erection was… something I-bom had never imagined, and his eyes widened further at the thought. The slap had been loud enough that Beom-ho was now checking his face, turning it slightly this way and that. The pale cheek was faintly pink where it had been struck.

“We should put some ointment on that. God… I’m really sorry. Of all the things for it to hit, it had to be your face. I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Beom-ho’s face had gone pale, his hands tightening faintly as they held I-bom’s face, his voice unsteady with genuine fluster.

“…”

I-bom had no idea what to say, his gaze fixed on the source of the incident. In all his life, he’d never imagined he’d be picking up someone’s towel only to get slapped in the cheek by a full erection. The very thing that had done it still stood proudly, as if completely unaffected, refusing to settle.

Staring at it for a long moment, I-bom finally seemed to make up his mind.

“Beom-ho.”

“…Yes?”

“I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

Slowly, he reached out. Every slight movement brought that sweet, faintly bitter scent of him closer—making him want to press his cheek there deliberately, to breathe it in.

“But…”

He grabbed Beom-ho’s arm, steadying himself against the pounding in his chest.

“This was just an accident, right? It’s not like you meant to hit me.”

“…”

“I… I understand what’s going on. You don’t have to be so sorry.”

His tongue felt stiff, his body—once so easily heated by just a kiss—now demanding more under the weight of such a direct, visual stimulus. Instinct told him this wasn’t the time to back away. His toes curled against the floor, fingers clenching at the hem of his pajamas.

“And… what is it that you understand?”

Beom-ho’s expression shifted strangely.

“…”

The pale, flustered look from a moment ago was gone. In its place was an intense, heavy gaze, full of restrained hunger.

“Sexual things.”

I-bom answered without hesitation.

“I’m an adult, too.”

“…”

His eyes dropped again toward Beom-ho’s arousal.

The image of him in the steamy shower, hand wrapped around himself, came back vividly. Even after finishing, he was still just as hard.

I-bom blinked and swallowed. The heat of the moment was dizzying, the air so thick it felt like it could melt. Looking up at him with clear, steady eyes, I-bom spoke.

“Do you… want me to take care of it with my mouth?”

His mind flashed back to the last time Beom-ho had buried his face between his thighs, taking him in with his lips. Without realizing it, he stared at the thick, rigid length before him, gauging its size. The heavy shaft was stiff as a club, veins standing out, bobbing faintly in time with his heartbeat.

“It’s… uncomfortable if it doesn’t go down right away, isn’t it?”

If it were the old him, he never would have dared say such a thing out loud. But the long-building knot of desire inside him was uncoiling, slowly but surely. As if in response to his words, the heavy shaft gave a small, deliberate twitch.