The ease with which he looped the apron strings around himself and rolled up his shirt sleeves spoke of someone entirely at home in his own skin. His arms, each time they moved, showed defined lines of muscle that made them look impressively solid — and on his wrists and above, now uncovered, there were quite a few tattoos.
He was turning out to be slightly different from what Yigyeol had expected. Taller than anticipated, his manner of speaking lighter than his appearance suggested, his frame seemingly something he’d been born with — and despite being built throughout, there was a leanness to him that made Yigyeol curious what kind of sport he practiced. The slightly playful attitude and the tattoos on his forearms were also unexpected. The one thing that matched was perhaps his face.
The long eyes with their faint double eyelids and dark brows were exactly the same as in the photo. Seen from the side, the jaw that jutted sharply below his ear was particularly striking. He was undeniably good-looking. A fresh, young kind of handsome — carrying an air entirely unlike his husband’s.
“There are only two reservations left for today, so I’d kept the names in mind. Lucky guess.”
Yigyeol, who had been absorbed in his observations, gave a short, deflated laugh. It made sense. Fifty-fifty. Half and half odds. He felt embarrassed for having tensed up over something so trivial. Demanding to know why he was playing such a trick would have been a strange thing to do regardless.
“Well, the name suits you too.”
He was clearly the customer here and this man the business owner, yet somehow it was Yigyeol who felt like he was being toyed with. Was it the atmosphere? Because this was the man’s space?
Having finished tying his apron strings, the man moved toward the desk — the one with the monitor on it. There was a chair right there, plainly visible, but he didn’t sit down in it. Instead he leaned forward slightly while standing, resting his left hand on the edge of the desk and taking hold of the mouse. It was the exact same pose as the photo on the website.
“……”
Even as the man checked something with the small sound of clicking, Yigyeol couldn’t take his eyes off him. His husband’s laptop came to mind. The image of the man in that photo was now standing right in front of him in the flesh.
It had been while having his entrance sucked on until even his thighs were soaked.
Had there been two fingers spreading him open inside, or three? How deep had the tongue pushed in, licking away. Even the obscene act of touching himself below while his lower half was laid bare beneath the robe came flooding back to him in vivid detail. He felt a cool, spreading dampness settle around his waist.
“Your reservation is confirmed.”
“Ah……”
What am I thinking.
“Mm.”
The man laughed, the sound resonating low in his throat — still as playful as before.
He has no idea. What purpose had brought Yigyeol here, what he’d been thinking of just moments ago. A man who had no way of knowing any of it.
“It’s past time, but there’s no word from the other party.”
He made a swift effort to return to reality. Deliberately composing himself, he arranged his expression into something deliberately stiff.
“Yes…… I know.”
“Would you like to come inside with me and get set up?”
“Inside?”
“Simply put, this here is more of a reception area — the actual workspace is separate. Over there.”
Following the tilt of his chin, Yigyeol turned to look. It was true. A black cloth had been draped over it so that at first glance it looked like a wall, but looking more carefully, a small arched passage was cut through it. The actual class appeared to take place beyond it.
“Then you must have been in there just now. I kept looking for someone……”
“You kept looking for me?”
“Yes? Yes. Well, there was no owner to be found……”
Finding it strange that he would ask something so obvious, Yigyeol let his words trail off. The man, one hand slipped loosely into his apron pocket, drew up one corner of his mouth in a smile.
“I’m sorry. I should have come out earlier and waited. I was in the middle of some sample work, and outside sounds don’t carry well when I’m in there.”
“……”
“I also tend to have trouble putting things down once I’m focused on something.”
He added it with a meaningful air.
“That’s all right. I got a good look around, thanks to it.”
“So what would you like to do?”
He considered for a moment whether to go in as suggested, but on reflection it seemed like a poor choice. Being alone with this man in an even more enclosed space felt dangerous. It was suffocating enough as it was.
When Yigyeol said he would wait here for now, the man gave a ready nod. He wanted to take out his phone and check whether his husband had sent any message, but held himself back. Being caught trying to send a text earlier still sat uneasily at the back of his mind. Yigyeol idly ran his fingers over his pocket and made a show of looking around at his surroundings.
“You seem to like the workshop.”
“Yes, it’s nice. It’s new…… and it suits my taste.”
“You don’t look particularly comfortable for someone who thinks that.”
The man gave a faint smirk. His tone carried the air of someone who could see straight through him. Yigyeol moved to make a quick excuse, but the man was faster.
“In any case. The introduction ended up being later than it should have been, for unintended reasons.”
He closed the distance without hesitation. Yigyeol had tried to step back under the pretense of looking around, but it was made instantly useless.
It was the movement of someone who knew exactly where the light fell. From dark toward bright. And so the face he had every reason to be proud of came into fuller view.
“Ji Juhwan.”
He extended his hand. A handshake — that was what he seemed to be offering. After a brief hesitation, Yigyeol found himself reaching for it as if drawn.
“Kim Yigyeol. I look forward to…… working with you today.”
It was a cold hand — like leather stretched over a door handle. And though it hadn’t been apparent from looking, taking hold of it revealed calluses built up here and there, hard and rough. Perhaps from using his hands so much in his line of work.
Yigyeol’s hand, by contrast, was very soft and smooth. Similar in size to most men’s hands, but with fingers that were long and slender, each one. He had been told more than once that it was a hand with not a single rough edge — the hand of someone who had never known hardship.
Perhaps it was that contrast. Yigyeol felt a strange sense of being pulled forward. The man didn’t appear to be gripping hard at all, yet there was a pull in that handshake that was drawing him in.
“Working with you?”
“Pardon?”
“You sound like you want to come back often enough to look forward to it — shall I book your next reservation right now? I can do it immediately.”
“Ah, it’s, it’s fine. Not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just——”
His face flushed hot. Right, of course. A one-day class. Just today, one day — why did I add something like that. While he fumbled for an excuse in his flustered state, the handshake had drawn them even closer together. Yigyeol only realized it belatedly.
“Um……”
“My hands are a bit rough, aren’t they.”
“……That’s fine.”
The man stared at him. And all the while, his thumb worked subtly against the back of Yigyeol’s hand. Slowly, tracing the shape of the bones beneath. Like a snake gliding — a subtle, unhurried motion. His mouth went dry.
Please let go now. A handshake held this long was strange by any measure. Without his noticing, the warmth had been sapped from him, and Yigyeol’s own hand had grown cold.
Surely he doesn’t approach just anyone like this? Taking their hand, smiling so easily. Making it very easy to get the wrong idea……
Yigyeol held himself back from being pulled any further and drew in a deep breath. He was searching for any possible trace of pheromones coming from the man.
But he knew quickly. There was no scent coming from him at all. Perfectly scentless. A beta, then? Yigyeol felt relief and, simultaneously, disappointment. And then, startled at himself for that, he accidentally tightened his grip on the hand he was holding.
“……Ah.”
Sensing the man’s puzzled air, just as he was about to say something in explanation — a small sound came from behind him. A creak. The door to the workshop opened.
“Excuse me.”
The voice that came through was far too familiar. He spun around urgently, and the face he’d expected came into view. His husband. Seok Wonho, in the same suit he’d left the house in that morning, was stepping into the workshop.
His husband standing alone near the entrance — and the two of them inside, considerably further in, still clasped in a handshake.
The moment he became aware of that strange arrangement, it felt as though a noose had tightened around his throat. The weight that had been pressing on Yigyeol for three days now pooled around his heart, as though it might burst at any moment.
He tried immediately to pull his hand free — and failed. The firm fingertips, calloused at every knuckle, were gripping Yigyeol’s hand harder than before — like a snare pulling taut. He felt a flash of fear at that force.
What is this.
