The Apron Temptation
7 PM at Eila's house. Hans had been held up at the Adventurer's Guild until Eila finished her shift, and now he'd come back with her to her modest apartment. The moment the front door opened, a subtle lavender scent and warm air greeted them.
"Make yourself at home, Hans. It's a bit cramped, isn't it?" Eila said as she stepped inside first.
Her place was surprisingly neat. Cute little decorations and tidy furniture filled the space, along with a dried flower arrangement hanging on the wall. It was a complete 180 from the cold, aloof, iron-walled receptionist image she projected at the guild—this room overflowed with girlish charm.
But it wasn't the interior that caught Hans's eye.
"Just a moment. I'll change and start on dinner."
When Eila emerged from the bedroom, Hans felt the breath catch in his throat. She wore a loose white boxy T-shirt that left her pale legs fully exposed, and over it, a frilly pink apron.
Insane... Hans sat on the living room sofa, staring blankly at her retreating figure as she headed for the kitchen. The hem of the T-shirt barely covered her hips, and the apron strings cinched her waist into an alluring curve. Every movement made the fabric ride up just enough to hint at the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs.
A man's fantasy. The no-pants apron look.
She began chopping on the cutting board. Tap, tap, tap, tap. The lively rhythm of the knife echoed through the room, but Hans didn't hear a thing. His mind had already derailed into runaway fantasies with no brakes.
Newlyweds... Yeah, this is married life.
In his imagination, Hans rose from the sofa and crept toward the kitchen. He slipped behind her as she focused on cooking and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Oh my, darling? You startled me."
"Something smells delicious. What's on the menu tonight?"
"Hehe, it's a secret. More importantly... where are your hands going?"
His hands slid beneath the apron, under the T-shirt. He kneaded her soft breasts, drawing a heated moan from her.
"We should eat first... mmh..."
"I'd rather eat you first."
He'd lay her out on the table right there and—
Smack!
Hans slapped his own cheek with his hand.
Get a grip, you idiot! What kind of beastly thoughts are you having the second you walk in?
He curled up in the corner of the sofa and took a deep breath. Calm down. Just because you're turned on doesn't mean you can act like an animal—she might kick you out.
"Hans? Are you all right? Did you catch a mosquito?"
"Ah, yes! There was a... really big mosquito..."
Eila paused while stirring the pot and glanced back, a small smirk on her lips.
"Dummy."
She returned to cooking, but her ears had turned faintly red. Truthfully, she was nervous too. This was the first time she'd invited a man into her home—especially one she'd set her sights on.
I hope it tastes good... She bit her lip as she tasted the cream stew.
A short while later, she called out, "Here, eat up. I don't know if it'll suit your taste."
Steaming cream stew and freshly baked bread were laid out on the table. Hans picked up his spoon. The moment he took a bite, his eyes widened.
"Wow... This is actually really good?"
It wasn't flattery. The smooth cream sauce, perfectly cooked vegetables, and tender chicken came together in perfect harmony—a warm, home-cooked flavor unlike anything served at the inn.
"I'm glad," Eila said, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him from across the table. Just seeing Hans eat seemed to fill her up. His cheeks moved like a hamster's as he chewed, and the way he focused so intently without noticing the sauce on his lips was unbearably cute.
He's the first man I've ever eaten alone with like this...
At the guild she always acted perfect and aloof, but the truth was, she felt lonely. Coming home to an empty, cold room with no one to greet her. But right now, the space was filled with warmth.
"Um... aren't you eating?"
"I'm full. Watching you eat is enough for me."
Eila's gaze grew heated. Her eyes traced Hans's lips, his throat, and the forearms visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Possessiveness. She wanted to keep this man locked in this house, cook for him every day, and hold him every night.
Hans felt like he might choke under that intense stare, but he cleaned his plate anyway.
"That was delicious!"
"Hehe. Good boy."
Eila stood up. "If you're done, would you mind waiting a bit? I'll take a shower first."
She left him with a mysterious smile and headed for the bathroom.
"Make yourself comfortable. You can look around my room if you want."
Those words were the spark.
The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. Hans was left alone in the living room, his heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst through his ribs.
She's showering... She's showering first!
This was 100% certain. Tonight, history would be made with her.
To calm himself, he got up and wandered into Eila's room. A tidy desk reflected her neat personality. The bookshelf was lined with romance novels.
Unexpected. She likes this kind of thing.
Then his eyes landed on the three-drawer dresser in the corner of the room. An ordinary wooden chest of drawers. But Hans's instincts screamed at him. There was treasure in there.
No. Opening someone else's drawers without permission is a crime. That's something only trash would do.
Hans shook his head. Yet his body was already moving toward the dresser.
Eila said I could look around, didn't she? The dresser is part of the room, so...
A miraculous leap of logic. He glanced toward the bathroom, then reached out with trembling hands and opened the first drawer.
Slide.
"......!"
Hans sucked in a breath. Inside were rows upon rows of neatly folded stockings—apricot, coffee-colored, black, sheer to opaque. In the corner sat a set of fishnet stockings and a garter belt.
Whoa... She's got everything.
And in the drawer below... cute lace panties organized by color.
Hans opened the first drawer again and reached out as if entranced. He picked up a pair of black pantyhose. The smooth, soft texture of nylon. He lifted them to his face and buried his nose in them.
"Haaah..."
He inhaled deeply. The comforting scent of lavender, and beneath it, faint but unmistakable, the scent of her skin. The parts her toes would have touched, the parts that had wrapped around her thighs... just imagining it made his lower body grow heavy.
Drip.
The water in the bathroom stopped.
"Hah!"
Hans jolted in panic and shoved the stockings back into the drawer. He slammed it shut and bolted back to the living room sofa, plopping down. His heart raced wildly.
You lunatic... you pervert... but damn, that was good...
Guilt and a thrill of transgression. And a satisfied fetish. The front of his pants was already tented noticeably.
...
"Hans? Aren't you going to shower?"
Eila emerged wearing a bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head. She looked fresh from the shower, her damp skin glistening under the light.
"Ah, yes! I'll... I'll go right now!"
Hans fled into the bathroom. It was filled with the scent of the shampoo she'd used and lingering steam. He tried to cool off with cold water, but it was useless. When he finished, he was still fully aroused. Embarrassed, he put his clothes back on.
When he came out, the living room lights were off. Only a soft glow spilled from the bedroom. Hans swallowed hard and stepped inside.
Eila was sitting against the headboard. The bathrobe's sash had loosened, revealing a deep cleavage. Wet strands of hair trailed down her collarbone.
"Why are you hesitating? Come here."
She patted the spot beside her on the bed. Hans approached stiffly like a robot and perched awkwardly at the edge. Then Eila pounced from behind.
"Hngh?!"
"Were you scared I'd eat you up?"
Soft warmth pressed against his back. Eila's arms wrapped around his neck. Hot breath tickled his ear.
"Just stay still, Hans. I'll take care of everything."
She pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top. Woman on top. Eila's eyes trembled as she looked down at him. This was her first time. She knew the theory—she'd heard plenty of dirty talk from old colleagues and secretly read plenty of adult romance novels. But reality was different. Her heart felt like it might leap out of her mouth.
Don't shake, Eila. You have to lead.
With trembling fingers, she began unbuttoning Hans's shirt one by one. Her clumsy movements only aroused him further. Finally the shirt came off, exposing his bare chest.
"Haa..."
Eila ran her hand over his chest as if mesmerized. It was a man's body, firm with a decent amount of muscle. She leaned down and licked his nipple with her tongue.
"Hngh!"
Hans's body jerked upward. His back arched like a bow as a gasp escaped his lips.
Eila's eyes widened. "Oh? Hans... you're sensitive here?"
She looked like a child who'd found a fun new toy.
"How unmanly... and cute."
She began her full assault. Her tongue rolled over his nipple, her teeth nibbled gently, and she sucked hard.
"A-Ah! Eila! There, that's—!"
Hans was losing his mind. He'd never realized his nipples could be this sensitive. Every flick of her tongue sent electric currents racing through his body. At the same time, her hand tugged down his pants and gripped his already rock-hard erection.
"Kgh..."
"Getting this big... You really are a pervert."
Eila wrapped her hand around the shaft and stroked up and down. With no experience, there was no rhythm or control—just raw instinct, fast and rough. Nipple torture from above, a storm of a handjob from below, and right in front of him, Eila's pale breasts swaying heavily between the parted bathrobe. A triple assault on sight, touch, and sound.
"N-No! I'm gonna— Aaaah!"