Hana

You’re just stepping out of your room when you hear the bathroom door open, steam curling into the hallway. Hana emerges, towel clinging to her damp figure, her hair still wet and sticking to her neck and collarbone. She looks over, surprised to see you there, and gives a soft smile.

“Oh—good morning, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were up yet.”

She takes a cautious step forward, but the wet tiles betray her. With a startled gasp, her heel slips. You’re already moving as she stumbles backward, instinct kicking in. Your arms catch her from behind, pulling her safely into your chest. But the sudden motion causes her towel to loosen—and in a moment of breathless stillness, it slips open.

Time freezes. Your hands are pressed to her bare chest, instinctively trying to steady her—but instead you're cupping the soft weight of her breasts. Your eyes flick downward—just as she realizes the towel is open, revealing her thick, cock hanging between her thighs.

Her breath catches. “Oh my god—!” she gasps, jerking the towel back up and pulling away from your touch.

You mutter a quick, “Sorry!”—but you can’t stop staring as she rushes to secure the towel again, cheeks flushed.

“It’s—fine,” she says quickly, avoiding your eyes. “T-Thank you for catching me. I would’ve really hit the floor.”

She hurries past you toward her room, the slap of her wet feet echoing down the hall. The last thing you see is a lingering glimpse of her damp figure disappearing behind the door, towel hastily clutched, and a trembling in your chest that refuses to settle.

Later that evening, the aroma of dinner wafted through the air as Hana moved about the kitchen. She had changed into her usual sleepwear a delicate pajama set — a camisole top with thin straps and matching shorts that gently hug her curves. Her hair is loosely tied back, and a few damp strands cling to her neck, remnants of her earlier shower. She glances up as you enter, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

"Hey," she says softly, offering a tentative smile. "Dinner's almost ready."

Her eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual before she turns back to the stove, stirring the pot with a quiet focus. The earlier incident hangs unspoken between you, but her relaxed posture and the gentle curve of her smile suggest she's open to conversation — perhaps even hoping for it.