📢 Loves Points Top Up is Closed Until it Fixed

    Discord

    Naturally, Haseong didn’t breathe a word to Yehan about sneaking into the study. He simply became a bit more guarded around him. But Yehan, as if he had a sixth sense, noticed the distance and responded with even more excessive care.

    It wasn’t an exaggeration. Yehan observed him so closely that he noticed every breath Haseong took. If his breathing sounded even slightly off, Yehan would bring warm water, his attentiveness reaching new heights.

    The refrigerator, overflowing with fruit, never seemed to run out no matter how much Haseong ate to pass the time. The housekeeper, who came around noon to handle chores before leaving, called it a “magic jar.” Not knowing the term, Haseong looked it up online and blushed.

    Truly, everything about Yehan and the situation surrounding Haseong was maddening. For the first time, he learned that overthinking could make his head spin.

    Constantly staying tense made his stomach uneasy, and with a recent cold going around, his condition was, frankly, the worst.

    “Cough.”

    Waking up in the morning, the moment he sat up, a cough burst out, and Haseong narrowed his eyes. The hospital had repeatedly warned him to avoid getting sick since he couldn’t take medication recklessly, but it seemed he’d caught something bad.

    Last night, his throat was just scratchy, but today his body felt noticeably feverish. It was a different sensation from the heat caused by Yehan’s pheromones. Placing a hand on his forehead, Haseong lay back down. He had a decent fever. But going out to the living room with Yehan there would surely lead to some overreaction.

    Missing a day of pheromones wouldn’t be a problem, so he decided to stay in his room until Yehan left. His condition suggested sleeping more would be best. With that in mind, Haseong, shivering, pulled the blanket up to his nose.

    “Mr. Haseong, aren’t you eating breakfast?”

    As expected, a little past his usual wake-up time, Yehan knocked and spoke. Clearing his hoarse throat, Haseong replied.

    “No, I want to sleep more today. I’ll eat later.”

    “What’s wrong with your voice? Are you sick?”

    “No…”

    Despite his efforts to clear his throat and sound normal, Yehan immediately noticed his voice was off. Haseong groaned softly, burying his face in the pillow. His feverish head was spinning, making everything feel bothersome.

    With an irritated sigh, he answered in a hoarse voice, strained by his sore throat. After a brief silence, Yehan spoke again.

    “Did I… make you uncomfortable again? If I did, tell me so I can fix it.”

    “…It’s not that, cough.”

    He wanted to ask why the study was like that, why Yehan kept his traces there, what he’d been doing. But he also didn’t want to ask.

    He wasn’t in the condition for an argument either. Haseong stifled a cough that forced its way out mid-sentence, blinking. His feverish, watery vision made the ceiling seem to bulge and ripple.

    “You just coughed, didn’t you? Mr. Haseong, are you really okay?”

    Please, just go. His fever-addled mind and aching body combined with irritation, and Haseong impulsively snapped.

    “It’s uncomfortable how much you’re fussing over me.”

    “…”

    “I really hate it…”

    Muttering as if to himself, Yehan seemed to catch every word, falling silent. Though unseen, Haseong felt it through the door. Then, another fragile apology came, likely the most frequent phrase after “I’m heading out” since arriving here.

    “…I’m sorry.”

    Each apology sent a tingling pain through Haseong’s body. Hating that feeling, he pulled the blanket over his head.

    “I know it’s burdensome, but I can’t help watching you…”

    Yehan kept talking, but for some reason, his words evaporated before reaching Haseong’s ears. Even in fragments, his voice continued.

    “They say extremely recessive omegas during pregnancy need extra care, so I might’ve overdone it. But from now on… Mr. Haseong?”

    The blanket over his head blocked the sunlight, creating a cozy cave-like feeling. Haseong let his eyes, already closing, relax completely. Forcing his eyelids open had given him a throbbing headache.

    “No good, come out for a second. I just need to check if you’re sick.”

    A knock, too forceful to be polite, rang urgently. He wanted to say the door was locked, to let him sleep, but the plea lingered in his throat.

    “Mr. Haseong, say something… Haseong!”

    A crashing sound was the last thing he heard before his consciousness cut off.

    💜

    Twitching his fingers due to the discomfort of his awkwardly positioned arm, a sharp pain shot up from his forearm.

    Something was stuck in his arm. Trying to open his eyes to check, his eyelids felt glued shut, refusing to budge. Groaning softly at his body’s disobedience, he heard a voice.

    “You’re awake? Just a moment.”

    A warm cloth was placed over his eyes. Gentle hands pressed around his eyes, soothing him, and Haseong surrendered to the touch. As his eyes slowly opened, an unfamiliar scene began to register.

    It looked like a typical home, except for the IV pole by the bed. Only then did Haseong notice the needle in his arm and Yehan’s pale face keeping watch beside him, piecing together the situation.

    “Is this… a hospital?”

    Forcing his dry throat to move, his voice came out cracked. Yehan pressed a button to gently raise the bed, handed him a cup of water, and nodded.

    “You had a high fever, so you’re admitted. They think it’s just a cold, but high fevers during pregnancy are dangerous.”

    “Oh…”

    Instinctively touching his stomach, Yehan quickly added.

    “The baby’s fine, they said. They’ll do tests later.”

    Only then could Haseong swallow the water. Drinking a full cup of perfectly warmed water soothed his parched throat and cleared his foggy mind. After taking the empty cup, Yehan cautiously met his eyes.

    “…While we’re living together, I’m your guardian, so I have one request. You don’t have to answer me or can avoid me, but don’t hide when you’re sick. Please tell me.”

    His earnest plea sounded familiar. Unlike before, when Haseong could coldly brush it off, he couldn’t easily say no now. Yehan had brought him to the hospital when he collapsed and, despite looking like he needed admission himself, had sat by his bed for hours, waiting for him to wake.

    And…

    “How are you here with your schedule?”

    Haseong tilted his chin slightly and asked back. As far as he knew, Yehan had a shoot today. He’d been preparing to leave that morning. Bringing him to the hospital was one thing, but staying this long wasn’t right.

    To his anxious, worried question, Yehan just smiled gently.

    “I got permission.”

    “Is that okay…?”

    “Sure. Even office workers take leave for emergencies. Why not an actor?”

    It sounded reasonable, but didn’t actors, unlike regular workers, have to keep working through emergencies for their high pay?

    Haseong frowned, then, struck by a bad feeling, grabbed his phone. Opening the internet, articles with Yehan’s name plastered across portal sites flooded in.

    “…Your name’s all over the internet.”

    The headlines were flashy: unauthorized absence, schedule no-show, ongoing unprofessionalism controversies. Stunned, Haseong muttered, and Yehan calmly explained.

    “The press and I aren’t on good terms lately. I got proper permission from the director.”

    “Isn’t it a big deal that articles are out?”

    “My agency released a correction, so it’ll die down soon.”

    Haseong doubted that, but before he could ask more, a nurse came to check his temperature. Thanks to the IV and hours of rest, his fever had dropped to a low grade. Still, being pregnant, they advised staying until tomorrow for tests. Haseong glanced at Yehan.

    Go to your shoot. Is he planning to stay here until tomorrow? Yehan’s presence was uncomfortable, but the guilt of causing a controversy weighed heavier. Yet, pushing him out felt too harsh… As Haseong’s eyes flicked toward Yehan, he noticed Yehan stealing glances too.

    “Can I accompany you for tests as your guardian, just while you’re here? Just this once.”

    Their eyes met directly, as if rehearsed. Yehan spoke without pause, his gaze trembling with the fear of rejection—an unfamiliar sight.

    “…Do what you want.”

    Every time Yehan seemed unfamiliar, Haseong’s fingertips tingled. He usually avoided that feeling, but this time, he couldn’t coldly dismiss him. Probably because, though unintended, he owed him again. As Yehan said, Haseong was weak to guilt.

    He tossed out a curt reply and closed his eyes.

    Soon after the nurse left, medical staff arrived for an ultrasound. As Haseong followed them to the exam room, Yehan naturally trailed behind.

    The hospital corridor was oddly empty, but Haseong still worried about Yehan walking so openly.

    With bad press already out, was it okay to be seen like this? Especially with a pregnant omega… Yehan must think it’s fine, but still. Amid these trivial worries, the exam proceeded quickly.

    “With the fever down fast, you don’t need to worry much.”

    The doctor’s reassuring voice snapped Haseong back. Right, he should focus on his health and the baby, not someone else’s affairs.

    Thankfully, the baby on the screen had grown, showing no abnormalities. Not that he could tell much, but it felt that way. Seeing the now-distinct head and limbs, Haseong hesitated before asking.

    “Um, can you tell me the gender? The hospital I usually go to said it’d be later.”

    The doctor, briefly showing difficulty, smiled and whispered softly.

    “The baby’s very pretty.”

    “…Thank you.”

    It was vague, but Haseong understood, nodding. The doctor likely meant a girl, but “pretty” inevitably brought Yehan to mind. His thoughts drifted to how, if the baby resembled Yehan, she’d look just like Yoo Seojin.

    ‘Should I be happy about this…?’

    Knowing the gender and imagining a beautiful child resembling Yehan should be joyful for a father, but it felt bittersweet. He didn’t exactly want the baby to resemble him either. With complex emotions, he left the exam room. Yehan, silent until then, finally spoke.

    “You’ve decided to give birth, right?”

    His cautious tone carried certainty. With the pregnancy too far along to terminate and Haseong asking about the gender, it wasn’t surprising.

    What was the intent behind his question? Did he want the baby born, or not? Yehan had said he’d respect Haseong’s choice, but as the father, he must have his own thoughts.

    Initially, Haseong assumed he’d oppose it. But lately…

    “Why did you keep wanting to go to the hospital with me?”

    Walking ahead, Haseong asked instead of answering.

    “…They say couples usually go together when pregnant. I didn’t want you to go alone.”

    The unexpected answer came after a pause. The unfamiliar word “couple” made Haseong stop and turn to Yehan.

    “Of course, you and I aren’t a couple.”

    The added clarification left an awkward silence between them.

    Haseong trudged back to the room like a rusty tin robot, groaning inwardly. If Yehan stayed until tomorrow, the awkwardness might suffocate him.

    Please leave. Please go. He hadn’t been to church since middle school, but he prayed fervently. Whether it worked, Yehan soon got a call from his agency’s CEO and stood.

    “I need to go to the office for a bit…”

    “Go.”

    Haseong inwardly cheered. His blunt dismissal made Yehan’s expression complex, but he left after reminding him to eat dinner. Only when the door closed, leaving Haseong alone, did he slump onto the bed.

    Checking his phone, he saw missed calls from his noona during the exam. He called back, and she answered before the first ring, skipping greetings to shout.

    —What’s up with Mr. Go Yehan? It’s a mess out there!

    Haseong briefly pulled the phone from his ear, then brought it back. Given the topic, his voice came out hesitant.

    “He said it’s no big deal… Is it really bad?”

    —It’s huge. For actors, no-show articles are the worst for their image, short of a major crime.

    “Uh, um…”

    Haseong briefly explained to his curious noona. He’d collapsed with a feverish cold, and Yehan brought him to the hospital. She was silent for a moment before speaking gravely.

    —Haseong, this might sound weird, but… just get back together with him.

    “What are you talking about?”

    —I don’t know what fight made you act like you hate him, but to me, he’s a total pass.

    Her tone resembled her ramblings about a favorite drama—nonsense. Rich, handsome, and the baby’s father… Haseong let her nonsense go in one ear and out the other. After chattering, she returned to her normal tone.

    —By the way, I should thank him separately. He’s playing guardian for me.

    “You have hyung’s number?”

    —Of course. Mr. Go Yehan texts me regularly to say you’re doing well.

    Hearing this for the first time, Haseong’s fingers, fidgeting on speakerphone, froze. Oblivious, his noona kept chattering excitedly.

    —He asks about your favorite foods or fruits you liked as a kid. He contacts me pretty often. You didn’t know?

    If he weren’t in a hospital, he might’ve yelled. Instead, he quietly wrapped himself in a blanket and rolled on the bed.

    Why does he keep… Why does he act like he’s in love, like he’s proving his confession was sincere?

    “Ugh…”

    Thinking about Yehan always gave him a headache now. Pushed to his limit, he felt heat rising again.

    No good. Haseong got up, slipped on slippers, threw on his padded jacket, and stepped into the corridor. It was midnight, but walking might clear his racing thoughts and help him sleep.

    His room was at the corridor’s end. The hospital hallway was eerie at night, but it was the only way to the elevator, so he walked quickly. Turning the corner, he stopped at a familiar figure.

    On a single sofa by the elevator sat Yehan. His arm rested on the flimsy armrest, chin propped awkwardly, eyes closed. At the sound of footsteps, he opened them instantly, as if he hadn’t been asleep but merely enduring exhaustion.

    “Mr. Haseong?”

    “You went home…”

    Assuming he’d left for good, Haseong’s voice betrayed his surprise. Yehan rubbed his sleepy eyes and smiled lazily.

    “Oh, I met with the CEO and came back. Just got here. …Why are you up?”

    “Why are you here? Were you planning to sleep here?”

    “I thought you were asleep. Didn’t want to wake you or bother a sick person…”

    “You’re making me more uncomfortable.”

    His pent-up emotions burst out. For the first time, Haseong cut Yehan off, muttering through gritted teeth. Aware of the hospital setting, he avoided yelling, but his excited breaths came in huffs.

    Clenching his fists and panting, Yehan looked startled. He dropped his habitual smile and raised his chin to meet Haseong’s eyes.

    “…I’m sorry. I was trying not to bother you.”

    “Just, ha…”

    Another “sorry” nearly raised his voice again, but he forced himself to calm down. Seeing Yehan sitting in the cold, poorly heated hospital corridor, moping, Haseong threw his padded jacket over him.

    Yehan caught it, staring at him with eyes both infuriating and pitiful, causing unfiltered words to spill out.

    “Go inside and sleep. And please, tomorrow, stick to your schedule, sleep, eat food instead of drinking. Eat breakfast with me. I won’t choke seeing your face now. Stop staying up all night watching my room. I’ve decided to have the baby, so I’m not going anywhere until then.”

    Every morning, seeing that god-crafted face, relieved as if praying, chipped away at his distrust. That’s why Yehan was becoming more trustworthy, despite all the deception.

    “On your days off, just lounge on the sofa smoking, like before. Wake up late, drink coffee, be lazy.”

    Out of breath, he brought a trembling hand to his mouth, steadying himself before continuing.

    “I hate how you act unfamiliar to accommodate me. Just be like you were before. That way, I can…!”

    Keep finding reasons not to trust you. You’re clearly incapable of love, so your feelings must be a mistake I can dismiss. That way, I can shake off this lingering attachment and leave. Why do you keep…

    Overwhelmed by words and emotions, his head spun. The heat he meant to cool with a night walk exploded like a bomb. Though framed as a plea, his tone was like venting anger. Yehan, listening quietly, finally muttered softly.

    “…I decided to do whatever you say, but I can’t be like before.”

    His own words seemed to amuse him, a hollow laugh trailing off.

    “I begged to go back to how things were, and now I’m saying this. Funny, right?”

    “…”

    “If I act like before… nothing will change, and you’ll leave…”

    He lifted the padded jacket Haseong gave him, pressing his lips to his hand as if kissing it. “I don’t want that.” His faint voice crumpled with the rustling fabric.

    “Call me selfish, but this is my struggle to survive, so please allow this. I’ll listen to everything else. I’ll eat, sleep, work hard…”

    He wanted to brush it off like that absurd love confession, but he couldn’t turn away. He wanted to ignore Yehan, as he did whenever he seemed unfamiliar, but his gaze wouldn’t leave the man clutching the jacket like a lifeline on a cheap sofa.

    In the end, all Haseong could say was:

    “…It’s cold, so go inside and sleep.”

    💜

    After discharge, their daily life began to shift subtly, like gears slowly meshing.

    Was it the image of Yehan, uncomfortably curled on a guardian bed too short for his over-190cm frame, covered with the padded jacket Haseong gave him? Or the absurdity of Yehan sitting across the table the next day, eating breakfast with a face like it was the worst thing in the world, forcing it down?

    Haseong stopped locking his bedroom door every night, settling for simply closing it. Seeing the doorknob Yehan had broken, dangling pathetically, made him realize locking it was pointless. Besides, he had developed a small degree of trust that Yehan wouldn’t touch a thing without his permission.

    His resolve to accept nothing from Yehan also softened, and he began accepting the occasional small gifts. To be precise, since they weren’t exactly for him, he lacked a good reason to refuse and had no choice but to take them.

    Haseong placed a tiny pair of yellow baby shoes on his hand. The size, smaller than his palm, and the cute design were undeniably adorable every time he looked at them.

    “Cute, right?”

    “Yes. But stop buying them…”

    The unborn baby already had five pairs of shoes. Haseong sighed, putting the shoes back in their packaging. He closed the laptop he’d opened, realizing work was futile. Yehan had returned, and it was nearly midnight.

    Time to sleep. Between working on music, watching funny videos, and listening to new songs, he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten. As Haseong gathered the laptop and shoes to stand, Yehan spoke.

    “Are you still studying composition?”

    Noticing the composition program on the laptop, Yehan asked, hanging his coat on the sofa. Haseong furrowed his brow slightly, catching the strong pheromone scent wafting from the coat that had been on Yehan all day.

    Perhaps because he’d been receiving Yehan’s pheromones so often, his senses had sharpened. He could now quickly detect subtle changes, like an unusually strong scent or a slight difference in its tone. Of course, he’d only ever smelled Yehan’s pheromones, so this applied only to him.

    Haseong sniffed again. Unlike the usual perfect balance of sweet and bitter, today’s scent felt damper and more acrid.

    ‘Smells like cigarettes.’

    Yehan hadn’t smoked in a while, but it seemed he’d started again. It could also be the rain outside mixing with the scent. If that was the case, no big deal. Haseong brushed it off and answered.

    “Just, you know, nothing else to do.”

    “I heard you started uploading tracks to the cloud again. Jinho asked if you were back.”

    “Teacher saw them?”

    Haseong’s eyes widened. He’d been casually uploading tracks for self-satisfaction, never imagining Kim Jinho was watching his cloud.

    Why would someone as busy as Jinho care about a guy who quit with a single email? To the anxious Haseong, Yehan muttered casually, as if it were no big deal.

    “If you’re thinking of continuing composition, reach out. I’m not saying I’ll meddle…”

    Yehan had said something similar before, but the nuance was different this time. Back then, he’d seemed ready to contact Jinho without asking if Haseong even hinted at interest.

    “Jinho really liked you. He’d probably take you back as a student if you wanted.”

    Of course, knowing his personality, he might nag a bit while accepting you. Yehan added jokingly, sitting on the sofa with his hands clasped as if in prayer, his gentle gaze meeting Haseong’s.

    “I introduced you, but your recognition was all your talent. So don’t give up because of me…”

    Pausing between words, Yehan gave a bitter smile, matching the scent of his coat.

    “I heard you were passionate about the drama’s original score. Post-production like music continues until just before airing, so if you return now, you could revive your old work and join again.”

    It was the future Haseong had dreamed of, but he shook his head.

    “…No. I don’t plan to stay in Seoul. The tracks I made are a pity, but I quit on my own, so I can’t blame anyone.”

    “…”

    Since the hospital incident, his trust in Yehan had slightly recovered. He wouldn’t deny he’d reached a point where he wondered if he could trust him more. That was exactly why he solidified his resolve to leave after giving birth.

    He was already so shaken now; staying longer with Yehan would surely make him act like a fool again. Swayed, crumbling, trusting despite the unease. He’d barely escaped being consumed by that wretched disease and was only dipping one foot in now—there was no need to dive back in.

    Haseong stood, gathering his things. He instinctively knew a long conversation with Yehan would lead to trouble for both. But as he turned, Yehan’s desperate voice tickled his back.

    “If you want to return to Haenam just for Ms. Serae, I…”

    After repeating “I” several times, he continued.

    “If I quit everything and went with you to where you are…”

    “—Don’t.”

    Nonsense. Haseong cut him off sharply.

    “You said you wouldn’t bring this up again. Don’t.”

    Biting his lip, Haseong refused to look back.

    “I’m going in. Good night.”

    The neatly repackaged baby shoes crumpled in his hand.

    💜

    The next day, Haseong woke earlier than usual but lingered in bed. The nonsense from yesterday kept tripping him up like a rock on a smooth path.

    If it were a day Yehan had to leave, he’d feel lighter, but today was, unfortunately, a day off. Bad luck always aligned like this.

    He couldn’t stay holed up forever, though. Given Yehan’s recent pattern—coming home at 3 a.m. and leaving by 8 a.m. yet always preparing breakfast—he’d likely come to wake him soon.

    Maybe I should go out first. Say I want to eat alone today and finish quickly.

    Swallowing hard, Haseong opened the door and stepped out. The empty living room and absence of Yehan’s usual greeting as he peeked out struck him with an unfamiliar emptiness.

    “Hyung?”

    Unaware he was calling for Yehan first since arriving, Haseong looked around. The man who insisted on sleeping on the sofa despite being told not to was nowhere to be seen.

    Did he go out on his day off? He usually stayed until morning. Did he leave at dawn to be considerate after yesterday? For someone who begged to listen, he sure didn’t. Passing the study, Haseong froze at the thick, potent pheromone scent.

    Even with the door closed, it was overwhelming. Recalling the strong scent on Yehan’s coat yesterday, his hand reached for the doorknob. Then—

    “…Don’t open the door.”

    A low, growling voice, like a beast eyeing prey, came from beyond. Startled, Haseong jerked his hand back, and as if Yehan saw it, a softer, forced tone followed.

    “For today, no, a few days, stay in your room, Mr. Haseong. You know I’m… not in a good state.”

    His strained voice broke intermittently. Each breath sounded like metal scraping his throat.

    Haseong recalled Yehan’s rut, supposedly every three months. The last one had come slightly early, but only by a week or two—not a month or two like now.

    “Why a rut now…?”

    “…Yeah, why?”

    Unlike Haseong’s serious tone, Yehan chuckled, as if amused by his own rut.

    “They say fatigue can mess with cycles. It’s fine. I’ll handle it, so… stay in your room. Lock the door.”

    “Did you take sleeping pills?”

    “Yes, I did. I’ll sleep soon, so go.”

    Liar. Haseong had seen Yehan’s hollow eyes from staying up with alcohol and pills for over a month, never truly sleeping. He’d once checked a discarded pill bottle—it wasn’t the same as the sleeping pills mixed in his coffee.

    Searching online, he learned it was the strongest sleeping pill prescribed domestically, and tolerance builds even with strong ones. Yehan, reliant on them nightly yet sleepless, must have developed tolerance long ago.

    And he says he’ll sleep soon? Another brazen lie. Haseong glared at the door, or rather, at Yehan beyond it.

    He wasn’t angry. It was a quieter, deeper emotion, tightening his chest. His pounding heart fueled his impulse.

    His mind screamed to turn back, but his racing blood clouded his reason. His arm moved on its own, flinging the door open. As the barrier broke, a wave of pheromones crashed over him.

    Seeing Yehan curled on the bed, clutching the coat Haseong had once draped over him, his already dizzy head spun. He held his breath reflexively.

    “I told you not to come in!”

    Yehan reacted a beat late. His panicked shout, as if Haseong had entered a radioactive zone, wasn’t frightening at all. Leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, head heavy from spinning, Haseong asked softly.

    “…Didn’t you say you wouldn’t lie?”

    “I took the pills. Really…”

    “You take them but can’t sleep.”

    The man who’d deceived him with words countless times clamped his mouth shut, proving Haseong hit the mark. His jaw tightened.

    “Hyung, how much of an idiot do you think I am?”

    Did Yehan think, after over a month together, he wouldn’t notice? Fuming, Haseong snapped, and Yehan, lying against the door, turned with effort. His dry, cracked lips mumbled, “It’s not that.”

    “If I admit the pills don’t work, it’ll look like I’m begging for your help… I didn’t want that.”

    That was rich coming from someone with his track record. Haseong stared at Yehan, face buried in the coat, muttering. It was strange. His changed demeanor wasn’t new, but it was still odd.

    Insomnia from irregular schedules and stress made sense, but none of his symptoms seemed minor. His pheromones spilling when relaxed, a completely disrupted rut cycle—it was too much to chalk up to fatigue.

    And clutching Haseong’s scentless clothes like a lifeline? That was odd too.

    “Be honest about this at least. Are you sick?”

    “…”

    “If you lie again, it’s really over.”

    Adding sincerity, Yehan’s half-closed eyes trembled open. His dark, lust-glazed gaze met Haseong’s before drifting to the ceiling.

    “…Side effects.”

    “Of what?”

    “Of one-sided imprinting.”

    A ringing like an alarm blared in Haseong’s ears.

    It took time to fully process the shocking revelation. He didn’t say who he imprinted on, but it was obvious it was Haseong. Every word and action Yehan had shown was a clue.

    As Haseong stood frozen at the open study door, unable to step inside, Yehan’s next words thawed him.

    “You don’t need to worry. It’s my one-sided imprinting…”

    Those words moved Haseong’s legs. Toward the man curled like a child, leaking potent pheromones. Yehan, trembling hands clenched, growled through gritted teeth.

    “Haseong, please, get out.”

    “…I’ll help. Just this once.”

    Was it the alpha pheromones filling the room? Pity for his struggle to prove love? Or sympathy for his helpless pain? Or…

    Giving up deeper thought, Haseong accepted Yehan’s kiss, driven by thirst. The faint taste of blood lingered—his usually soft, moist lips were dry and cracked.

    Unable to bear the roughness, Haseong lightly licked them. Yehan opened his mouth, swallowing Haseong’s tongue and exploring his mouth. Wet sounds passed between their tightly locked lips. So focused on devouring each other’s saliva, they nearly forgot to breathe.

    When Haseong tilted his head to catch his breath, Yehan urgently reclaimed his lips, as if to keep him from escaping. His hand on Haseong’s nape gripped tightly, as if afraid he’d leave. Haseong rested his hands on Yehan’s shoulders, accepting the overwhelming kiss.

    Their bodies pressed together, the brief pauses between kisses filled with the dense pheromones of a rutting alpha, naturally aroused Haseong’s body.

    His heated vision wavered, his stomach tingling. His pajamas tightened as his body reacted below.

    “…Is it okay to have sex while pregnant?”

    Yehan pulled away, asking with a worried expression. A translucent thread stretched between their lips from the fervent kiss.

    His swollen lips glistened with saliva, whose it was unclear. Barely clinging to reason, his eyes wavered, and his navy sweatpants bulged, the fabric crumpled.

    Both were overwhelmed with arousal, yet he asked about sex. The man who turned perverse during sex felt unfamiliar like this. Recalling the doctor’s advice that sharing a rut was most effective, Haseong nodded vaguely.

    “Yes, probably…”

    Despite the doctor’s assurance, he hesitated because the doctor likely based it on average alpha sizes, and Yehan’s was far from average…

    Recalling how Yehan’s thrusts made his navel bulge, Haseong groaned involuntarily. With a baby inside, such deep penetration seemed risky. And with Yehan in rut, knotting was out of the question.

    “Not too deep… and no knotting.”

    Saying such things made his face burn with embarrassment. Yehan, gently laying him on the bed and removing his pants, nodded.

    “Tell me how far is okay.”

    Before Haseong could ask what he meant, his lower body was exposed. His loose T-shirt was pulled up to his chest, revealing pale skin.

    Seeing his abs softened by pregnancy, Yehan caressed his stomach gently, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it.

    “Hng…!”

    The months-absent stimulation made Haseong’s hips tremble.

    Yehan eagerly sucked the small, cute protrusion and firm chest, grazing it with his teeth. Careful not to press too hard on his stomach, he pressed the nipple’s center with his other hand, drawing sharp gasps from Haseong.

    Satisfied with the reddened marks and swollen nipple, Yehan slowly spread Haseong’s legs. The puckered hole twitched invitingly.

    Despite the baby and foreplay, Yehan bit his tongue to suppress the destructive urge to thrust in fully and ravage him.

    Swallowing the sharp taste of blood, he inserted his index finger. It used to take four fingers eagerly, but after a long break, it was tight.

    Seeing Haseong struggle with just one finger and the hole clenching, Yehan felt relief that no other alpha had touched him, then laughed bitterly at his own trashiness.

    Living as a beta for 22 years, manifesting as an omega, and pregnant with his child—how much greedier could he get? He was sick of his own selfishness.

    “Ng, ah…!”

    “Need lube…”

    Suppressing impatience, he added fingers. Inserting his middle and ring fingers, he rubbed Haseong’s favorite spot, spreading them like scissors. The walls, initially tight, gradually adjusted, gripping softly. Feeling the slick fluid, Yehan chuckled lowly.

    “Your hole’s definitely wet.”

    A reaction unseen when he was a beta. Still, it wasn’t enough for insertion without lube. As an extreme recessive, the fluid was just enough to coat his fingers.

    Even as an omega, lube was needed. Yehan, troubled, looked at his bulging crotch, groaning.

    The lube, unused for a while, was in Haseong’s bedroom drawer. He doubted he could even walk there. After a moment’s thought, he buried his face between Haseong’s legs.

    “Hng! Wait…!”

    Haseong, startled, pushed at Yehan’s head. Yehan had done this once before, but the overwhelming pleasure and embarrassment were still vivid.

    Especially today, after months without intimacy, his tense body wasn’t fully relaxed. Though he’d volunteered, facing Yehan’s rut while pregnant was daunting.

    But no matter how he pushed, Yehan’s fine hair only tangled in his fingers, his head unmoving.

    His heated breath hit Haseong’s perineum, tensing his calves. Yehan’s sharp nose pressed into the soft flesh, followed by his wet tongue.

    “Nng!”

    Like he’d devoured his nipples, Yehan licked eagerly, like a dog. Haseong’s legs, trying to close, trembled in the air, blocked by the large man.

    Clutching Yehan’s hair, Haseong could only watch his convulsing toes.

    After licking the perineum until it was slick, Yehan moved lower. The hole, gripping his fingers, twitched excitedly, clenching them. Pulling his fingers out, Yehan pressed his tongue to it.

    “Ah! Hn, no…!”

    “Sorry… I can’t go get lube right now.”

    As Yehan muttered, his breath made the hole clench. He pried it open with his tongue, licking earnestly.

    Holding Haseong’s bucking thighs, he buried his face deep, nose in the perineum, licking meticulously until the hole and walls were soaked. The small amount of sweet fluid lingered on his tongue.

    More aroused, Yehan lifted Haseong’s hips higher, nose and mouth buried, licking and sucking noisily.

    Haseong writhed, sobbing, his grip on Yehan’s head weakened.

    “Haa! Ng! Hnn! Hyung, stop…!”

    His neck snapped back, and white fluid arced from his erect cock. Yehan caught it in his mouth, sucking.

    The semen, with a different tang than the fluid, filled his mouth. Releasing it, Yehan saw Haseong, legs splayed, half-dazed, thighs trembling. Finding it cute, he licked the semen from his chin and adjusted his position.

    Note

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