The morning at the hospital smelled of sterile air and anxiety. Light from the blinds cut the floor into thin strips, and each one seemed colder than the last.
Do-yun sat on the examination couch—motionless, composed, as if afraid to take a wrong breath. Next to him stood Yoon Seung-ho—without his coat, but just as flawless, as if even the sterile hospital couldn't shake his control.
The doctor—a woman in her forties with a tired but kind face—flipped through the chart, stopping at the recent entries.
— You were seen here last month, correct? — she asked, looking at Do-yun over her glasses. — The results were within the norm then, but now... — she paused. — Now things are different.
She turned the screen toward them. On the monitor—a blurry image, wavering in gray noise. But inside—a tiny, rhythmic beating.
Do-yun didn't immediately understand what it was. He just stared until his heart plummeted, and his palms turned cold.
— Mr. Do-yun, — the doctor said softly. — You are pregnant.
Silence. The word dropped like a stone into water. No fanfare, no gasps. Only the ticking of a clock and Seung-ho's steady breathing.
Do-yun turned away, feeling something warm and scorching clench inside. "Pregnant. Seriously?" He wanted to laugh, but his voice caught.
The doctor continued calmly:
— Based on the data, you are about seven weeks along. Everything is progressing stably, without complications. But you must adhere to a strict regime, excluding stress and strain.
— Stress, — Do-yun repeated with a hollow smile. — I apologize, Doctor, but our... work doesn't exactly allow for stress exclusion.
Yoon touched his shoulder.
— We will manage, — he said calmly.
— Mr. Yoon, — the doctor shifted her gaze to him. — This is not a matter of strength. An Omega in the early stages needs protection and rest. Any pressure can lead to complications.
— I understand, — Seung-ho nodded, and for the first time, something human sounded in his voice—not steel, but warmth. — I will do everything necessary.
Do-yun pressed his palm to his forehead, not lifting his gaze. "What idiots we are..." He remembered their nights, without blockers, without pills. "Neither he nor I even thought about it. Not once. We just... allowed it."
— We really didn't use protection, — he mumbled. — No one was even taking contraceptives. And the heat... God.
Yoon looked at him, his eyes shining.
— Did you know?
— I suspected, — Do-yun replied quietly. — But I hoped it was just a glitch.
He lifted his head.
— What now?
— Now you must decide if you wish to keep the child, — the doctor said cautiously. — There are no medical contraindications. But the decision must be conscious.
She gave them time, simply closing the door politely.
When they left the office, the hospital corridor seemed too bright. Seung-ho walked beside him, slightly behind, as if guarding. Do-yun felt his thoughts racing chaotically. Pregnancy. A child. Both of them—in the middle of an investigation, under fire. This was not just a mistake. It was the new axis of everything.
They stopped by the window. Yoon stood, looking at the city, but his face lacked its usual cold mask. He was smiling—barely perceptible, but sincere.
— Are you happy? — Do-yun asked tiredly.
— I... — Seung-ho closed his eyes, inhaled. — Yes. Just yes. Without calculation, without fear.
Do-yun recoiled, looking at him as if he had said something impossible.
— Are you crazy? This is the worst time, — he exhaled, laughter and despair intertwined. — We are being hunted, and you… are happy?
— Because now we have a reason to survive, — Yoon said quietly. — Not just to seek revenge, not just to hide. Now we have someone for whom all of this must end.
Do-yun turned away. His pheromones trembled—anxious, erratic.
— You are not asking if I want this.
— I am asking, — Seung-ho replied. — But, whatever your answer is, I will still stay by your side.
In the apartment that evening, the silence was ringing. Tablets, slipping from his palm, scattered across the floor—white circles against the dark tile. Do-yun stood, staring at them. Among them were sedatives, painkillers, old blockers that were now meaningless.
— Don't touch them, — Seung-ho said. He stood in the kitchen doorway, his shirt collar unbuttoned, outwardly calm, but too tense for it to be true.
Do-yun looked up.
— I'm scared, — he confessed.
— Me too, — Yoon replied simply. He came closer, touching his shoulder, letting his fingers linger slightly longer than necessary. — But fear must not decide for us.
Do-yun weakly smiled.
— You speak as if everything is under control.
— No, — Seung-ho replied quietly. — I'm just realizing for the first time what I want to hold onto it for.
— Come here, — Seung-ho ordered, gently but unconditionally.
Do-yun turned, full of resistance.
— Do you want to pretend that everything is fine? That this changes nothing?
— I want you to stop running from yourself, — Seung-ho approached, his movements slow, predatory.
He cupped Do-yun's face in his palms, forcing him to look into his eyes.
— Accept this, Do-yun. Accept yourself. You don't have to fight this, and you don't have to fight me.
His lips covered Do-yun's—the kiss was fierce, demanding, as if Seung-ho was trying to pound the truth directly into his consciousness.
Do-yun pushed him away, but it was the helpless resistance of an Omega whose body craved the Alpha's soothing and absolute dominance in a state of stress. Seung-ho's fingers gripped his waist, pressing him so hard against himself that Do-yun groaned.
Everything about this intimacy was wrong: the shock, the fear, the new, unwelcome life. But that was exactly why it was necessary. Urgently, primally necessary.
Clothes fell to the floor, carelessly. Seung-ho lifted him, pressing him against the corridor wall. His hot, hard shaft found its entrance immediately, without preparation—rough, but not painful, only filling the emptiness. Do-yun cried out, his body arched from the sudden intrusion and relief.
The rhythm was furious, fast, like an outpouring of all the accumulated terror. Seung-ho didn't take his eyes off his face, watching as the anger and despair in Do-yun's eyes gave way to pure, instinctive surrender.
— You are mine. You are here. And I won't let them take either of you, — Seung-ho growled, his words the truth he hammered into him with every thrust.
Do-yun clung to his shoulders, biting his skin, losing control of himself. He screamed—not from pain, but from the unbearable feeling of attachment and the horror that his life no longer belonged only to him.
The climax came instantly, a powerful wave that drowned him in a sense of completion and dependence. Seung-ho finished deep inside, his hot semen a seal, a final affirmation of the fact.
They collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. Seung-ho hugged him tightly, pressing him close, allowing his pheromones to finally pacify his Omega.