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“This is so stupid,” Han Yoojin groans, fisting his hands into the sheets in irritation. His temper feels hot and uncoordinated—not unlike his body, really, when it comes right down to it. The fever has been building in his blood all evening, familiar and uncomfortable. If it doesn’t have quite the same edge of painful desperation as his normal heats, it’s damn well close enough. “I’m already pregnant!”
The very least his hormones could do is put two and two together and give him a bit of a break. Instead, here he is—edging into the grips of a heat his body has no use for given the wild, entirely unexpected success of the last one.
Sung Hyunjae chuckles and lets his gaze sweep over Han Yoojin’s body, which is already beginning to round out halfway through his pregnancy. He kneels one knee on the foot of the bed where Yoojin is sprawled on his back, slick-soaked and trying not to writhe with impatience. Circling the fingers of one elegant hand around Yoojin’s ankle, he sweeps his thumb over the sensitive skin of the inner curve.
Han Yoojin can’t hold back his shiver, honey and spice seeping into the air as his scent spikes and deepens with arousal. Sung Hyunjae, the bastard, notices; he lets his thumb sweep a little higher, then back down over the delicate bones, pulling another shiver from deep within.
“Come now, Yoojin-ah,” Sung Hyunjae says fondly. “We read about pregnancy heats just last month.”
With a light kick of his foot as if to shake off Sung Hyunjae’s hand, Han Yoojin scoffs. He definitely isn’t secretly pleased when Hyunjae’s hand doesn’t move at all except to keep rubbing over his ankle, sending jolt after jolt of liquid, sensitive pleasure careening through Yoojin’s veins. And he definitely ignores the memory of Sung Hyunjae tucked up against him in bed every night as he pores over childbirth and parenting books. (It does odd things to his heart; it’s dangerous to think about such things.) Sure, the theory says that heats during pregnancy are meant to bond an alpha closer to their omega during the crucial, vulnerable months of mid- to late-pregnancy.
But theory doesn’t mean a whole hell of a lot in the moment when Sung Hyunjae isn’t doing anything about the need prickling through Yoojin’s body. Instead, he’s just kneeling there, eyes moving possessively over Yoojin’s form and the visible proof that Yoojin had gone to him for his last heat.
When he says as much out loud, Sung Hyunjae’s gaze deepens in intensity, his fresh, lightning-sharp scent enveloping Han Yoojin with its force. Somehow, despite how ungainly Yoojin is starting to feel, the S-Class alpha maneuvers him with ease. It takes only a moment until Sung Hyunjae is sitting with his back against the headboard, Yoojin arranged in his lap with knees and thighs spread wide around his hips.
“I think you’ll find I’m more than willing to do my part, Yoojin-ah,” Sung Hyunjae murmurs, his voice firm and pleased. That last is probably because Yoojin is leaking slick all over his thighs in a display of how much he needs him. Or perhaps it’s because his gaze is slowly travelling down Yoojin’s chest to where his stomach curves between them.
The view is probably why he’d chosen this position.
In mutiny at the fact that Sung Hyunjae’s cock still isn’t yet sinking into his body, Yoojin reaches between them to wrap one hand around it. The length of it is heavy, hard, already wet at the crown from the scent of Yoojins heat around them and the needy, hungry heat of his body. His fingers can’t make it all the way around, of course, but Yoojin does what he can, twisting his hand beneath the head before sweeping down as far as he can reach.
Sung Hyunjae hums his approval, leaning back to give Yoojin what space he can. One hand curls steady around Han Yoojin’s hip, and the other—
Han Yoojin hisses in a sharp gasp of gratification. The other rubs over one nipple where his chest is already beginning to grow tender with the changes to his body. His heat burns higher, every nerve beneath Yoojin’s skin seeming to centre on that touch—on the rough-soft feel of Hyunjae’s calloused fingers circling and circling and circling.
Ah, fuck. Somehow, Sung Hyunjae always knows just how to touch him. It drives Han Yoojin crazy, and definitely not just with need. One day, he’ll figure out why Sung Hyunjae of all people.
Why it was Sung Hyunjae he’d gone to for his heat.
Why it's Sung Hyunjae who makes him feel like maybe everything will be okay.
But right now, all he can do is arch his spine, his head tilting back and his grip tightening a little around Sung Hyunjae’s cock. His eyes open again to look down at the alpha below him when Hyunjae lifts him up a little, as if his weight is nothing. It is to an S-class, Yoojin knows. He fumbles his hand away from Hyunjae’s cock as the head teases at the entrance to his body.
There’s something almost tender about the look that Sung Hyunjae gives him then, beneath the pleased smugness and the simmering hunger. It’s the kind of look that makes Han Yoojin wonder if maybe, one day, Sung Hyunjae will ask for a mating bite. If maybe, when he does, he won’t be joking. Deep down, Yoojin is pretty sure that the reason he hasn’t already formally done so is not to scare Yoojin away.
The fact that he doesn’t actually know what he’d say—that it isn’t an automatic no—shakes him more than any dungeon break ever could.
That look slips from his view as Sung Hyunjae leans in, teeth grazing against Yoojin’s other nipple as both hands now brace his hips. The faint sharpness, followed by the slick, wet heat of Sung Hyunjae’s tongue as his cock presses hotly into his body, is enough to have the first orgasm wrenching through Yoojin.
As Sung Hyunjae’s cock finally settles fully inside of him, those golden eyes glinting as Hyunjae lifts his head to raise one eyebrow at him, Han Yoojin considers conceding—only to himself, of course—that maybe pregnancy heats aren’t the worst thing.