He’s a Fox Ch 72

Chapter 72

They were still eating lunch when suddenly Kangwoon’s phone rang. He had just finished helping Yuri with her food and was about to raise his chopsticks when he glanced at the screen. His brows furrowed. Without a word, he rose.

“I’ll just take this call. Don’t wait—keep eating.”

By then Hohyun was nearly done, but curiosity still flickered in his dark eyes as he watched the tiger stride toward the living room. A curt exchange—a few words spoken in a flat tone, then a heavy sigh. Soon after, Kangwoon returned, now dressed crisply in a suit. He looked ready for immediate departure. The crocodile blinked at the transformation.

“Sir, are you leaving?”

“Mother called unexpectedly. Have the entire security team stay inside the estate today. If anything happens, contact me immediately.”

“Yes, sir!”

He barely had time to take a spoonful, yet still paused at the door to offer farewell greetings to his siblings and the fox seated at the table. Then, quickly, he was gone.

Without their guardian present, Yuri’s afternoon schedule shifted automatically to indoor activities. The toddler sulked, but rules were rules. Matters worsened for her when all the hulking guards who usually patrolled the grounds were also forced inside—as ordered. Their looming figures haunted the corridors and lounge. Each time one spotted her, they’d descend in a pack, adoring and insufferable. A three-year-old’s “celebrity fatigue” made sense. Exasperated, she barricaded herself into her bedroom, leaving Hohyun to entertain her.

The day crawled. The tiger lord of the house only returned once the sky had gone black. Yuri was already asleep, curled into dreamland. Alone on the living room sofa, the fox sat checking his phone, when the main door swung open.

He leapt up.

Startled, Kangwoon nearly faltered as he saw the fox dart toward him. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“It’s not even eleven yet.”

A toddler might have been tucked in hours ago, but at twenty-one, the fox was wide awake. Eyes bright, following every step—and then he stiffened.

There was a scent.

The tiger was freshly bathed in winter air. Cold dryness, the grit of urban wind, exhaust that clung to fur. But woven into his shirt and mane was something else, something unfamiliar—an alien note mixed in with shampoo and soap. The fox breathed carefully, parsing it with serious face, oblivious that his body had followed the tiger into the master’s bedroom.

“Are you planning to stand there all night?” Kangwoon asked finally, pausing with closet door open.

“…?”

“I don’t mind you watching. But in that case—”

He dragged off his outer coat, smoothly, deliberately slow. The fox blinked in confusion until realization dawned.

Before he could retreat, the tiger loosed his tie, let it drop carelessly, and began undoing buttons. Shirt, taut across muscle, at last yielded; fabric pulled aside, freeing skin. The fox swallowed audibly, eyes glued.

The tiger smirked, sharp as a blade. Good—so it wasn’t indifference.

“Want to touch?” he threw bluntly.

“…Eh?!”

Too focused on fingers opening button after button, the fox instinctively answered, then choked on his own breath. Without hesitation, the tiger seized his hand, brought it to hard chest, pressed it flat.

The fox silently screamed. Heat, fur, steady strength throbbed beneath his palm. His own fingers twitched.

Then—Kangwoon clasped down, forcing hand to move, stroking across pectoral muscle. “Otherwise, anyone listening might think I’m the one touching you.”

The fox groaned, half-protest, half-despair. It was too much. His head spun—half tempted, half horrified by his own temptation. Cheeks reddening clear to neck, ears burning. Only then did Kangwoon relent, releasing the hand.

The fox tried to escape backward—only to be swept into arms, imprisoned against the chest he had just touched. His pulse hammered wildly, shamed by how much he liked it.

“…You’ve… been with lots of partners, haven’t you, sir?” he muttered accusingly, voice muffled.

The tiger raised a brow from where he sat now, perched at leisure on the bed.

“At my age? Of course, not none.”

“…!”

“Why, jealous?”

“…We’re dating. Isn’t it normal I’d care?”

Flat ears, frowning eyes—his expression betrayed the sulk. The tiger chuckled, shoulders shaking, then laughed freely, until the fox’s eyes narrowed sharp. Quickly, he soothed, patting.

“Yes. You’re right—it’s natural. The same way I was sulking, when I heard your first kiss wasn’t with me.”

“…What?”

The fox snapped his wide eyes open. Impossible. He had never—never once kissed or even intimately held anyone else. But Kangwoon’s lowering brows feigned wounded disbelief. “Mm. Said it yourself. Claimed your first was with Happy.”

“…‘Happy’??” The absurd name jolted his memory.

Years ago, at ten, the neighbors had owned a fluffy poodle called Happy. A clumsily named dog, bright and wagging tail at every stranger. Always nipping heels, licking foes mercilessly. The fox shuddered.

“That was a dog, not a person!”

“You’re a dog too,” Kangwoon drawled.

“I’m a fox! …Wait. Did I really say… Happy was my first kiss?”

“Exactly.”

Hohyun groaned, face in both hands. Of course—the cursed blackout night. He could have said anything, confessed anything, drunk out of his mind. But that?! He wanted to vanish into floorboards.

While he wilted, the tiger’s hand—just moments ago resting idly at waist—shifted deliberately, gliding lower to thigh. He froze rigid.

“…W-what are you doing?”

The hand massaged, lightly, then that voice breathed at his ear:

“You keep saying you want to know what happened that night.”

“……”

“Still curious?”

Every syllable thick with intent. He nodded faintly, helplessly.

Permission accepted, the tiger gripped his waist firmly, flipped him effortlessly. From leaning back into chest, the fox suddenly straddled, nose to nose.