Chapter Five
Igo unmolested—quite literally—for exactly two weeks before Hyunwoo corners me in the kitchen one morning while I’m shoveling cereal into my mouth and announces that it’s time for another pregnancy test.
I set my spoon down and look at him over my bowl. He’s leaning against the counter in a fitted black t-shirt and gray joggers, his hair still messy from sleep, Kal sitting at his feet hoping for scraps. He looks annoyingly well-rested for someone who’s about to ruin my morning.
“It’s been two weeks,” I say flatly. “Everything I’ve seen online says you should wait at least three to four weeks for a reliable result. Taking it now is probably just going to give us a false negative.”
Hyunwoo waves this off with a flick of his wrist, the motion making his gold bracelet catch the morning light streaming through the kitchen windows. “It can’t hurt to check early. If it’s positive, great, we’re done. If it’s negative, we know where we stand and can plan accordingly.”
“Plan accordingly,” I repeat, not liking the sound of that at all.
“Just take the test, Yuggie.”
So I take the test. And we stand together in Hyunwoo’s bathroom again waiting while the little plastic stick develops on the counter between us. Hyunwoo hovers over it with his arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the result window, his jaw set.
Hyunwoo’s phone timer goes off with a cheerful chime that feels deeply inappropriate for the occasion. We both look down at the test.
One line. Negative.
Definitively, unambiguously, not pregnant.
I watch Hyunwoo pick up the test and hold it closer to his face, tilting it toward the light and squinting at the result window. He turns it sideways. Holds it up to the vanity lights. I half expect him to pull out a magnifying glass.
He sets the test back down on the counter with a small sigh and hums thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. The sound is more speculative than disappointed, like he’s already shifting to the next strategy in whatever mental playbook he’s been building.
“Maybe we’re not trying hard enough,” he says.
I rub my temples with both hands, pressing my fingertips into the dull ache that’s forming behind my eyes.
“It shouldn’t be this difficult to get pregnant.
People do it by accident all the time. Teenagers manage it without even trying.
There are entire TV shows dedicated to people who got knocked up when they weren’t supposed to. ”
Hyunwoo turns to face me, and the look on his face—bright-eyed, one eyebrow slightly raised, the corner of his mouth already curving upward—tells me I’m not going to like whatever comes out of his mouth next.
“Maybe we just need to have a lot more sex,” he says, with a cheerfulness that borders on offensive given the context. “Increase the frequency, maximize the odds. It’s all numbers, Yuggie.”
I stare at him. He stares back, his expression open and reasonable, as if he hasn’t just suggested that he fuck me on a more regular basis.
“You’re enjoying this,” I say accusingly.
“I’m being practical,” he corrects, holding up a finger. “More attempts means more chances. That’s basic statistics. You don’t have to have passed math to understand that.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s the spirit.”
I let out a sigh that comes from somewhere so deep in my body I think it might have originated in my actual soul. My shoulders drop and I tip my head back against the bathroom wall, staring up at the ceiling.
“Fine,” I say. “Let me go take a shower first.”
Hyunwoo claps his hands together once, looking satisfied, and says he’ll be in the bedroom whenever I’m ready, no rush. Which is a lie, because Hyunwoo has never patiently waited for anything in his entire life, but I appreciate the gesture.
An hour later I’m in Hyunwoo’s bedroom, and the position I’ve ended up in is one that I could not have imagined in my worst nightmares a month ago.
My hands are braced on the hardwood floor beside the bed, my bare feet planted wide for balance, my upper body folded forward at the waist while my hips are pulled back and up into Hyunwoo’s lap as he sits on the edge of the mattress behind me.
It’s an angle that puts my ass on full visibility at his eye level, my back sloping downward, my head hanging between my braced arms. Blood is rushing to my face from the inverted position, which at least gives me an excuse for why my cheeks are so red.
Hyunwoo’s fingers squelch in and out of my hole with a wet, lewd sound that fills the quiet bedroom, three of them now—he’s gotten bolder about the prep work, and I’ve reluctantly stopped fighting him on it since the alternative is the agony of our first time.
I can feel lube and slick dripping down my taint and over my balls in warm, ticklish rivulets, making a mess of Hyunwoo’s expensive sweatpants where my thighs rest across his lap.
The fabric is going to be ruined. I can’t bring myself to care, and I doubt he does either.
I grunt as his fingers crook inside me, the pads pressing against my prostate with an accuracy that’s become infuriating.
He finds it instantly now, every single time, like he’s memorized the inside of my body.
The pressure sends a bolt of sensation through my pelvis that makes my cock jump and my thighs clench on either side of his legs.
“No more,” I manage, my voice coming out breathless and strained from the inverted position. “You’ve already made me come twice, for fuck’s sake. My stomach is cramping and my cock has nothing left to give.”
Hyunwoo hums behind me, a noncommittal sound that tells me he’s not listening, his fingers still buried knuckle-deep in my ass and showing no signs of withdrawing.
I’m about to repeat myself more forcefully when I jolt so hard I nearly lose my balance on the floor—because Hyunwoo’s free hand has come up between my legs from behind and cupped my balls, his warm palm cradling them, his fingers rolling them gently with a casual, exploratory touch that makes every muscle in my body seize.
“Still feels like you’ve got some left in here,” he says mildly, almost conversationally. “They feel heavy.”
I swat backward at him with one hand, nearly face-planting into the hardwood, and twist my hips violently to dislodge both of his hands at once.
His fingers slip free of my hole with a wet sound that makes me cringe, and I roll sideways off his lap, landing on my ass on the floor with a thud that sends a jolt up my spine.
My thighs are wet and glistening with lube and slick, my chest heaving, and I glare up at him from the floor with what I hope is murderous intent but probably looks more like a flushed, sweaty, freshly fingered mess of a man sitting naked on the ground.
“Enough,” I snap, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m not a juice box that you can just squeeze until it’s empty.”
Hyunwoo looks down at me from the edge of the bed, his expression caught between amused and impatient, his three slick-coated fingers held up in the air like he’s not sure what to do with them now that they’re not inside me.
He wipes them on his already-ruined sweatpants without breaking eye contact.
I push myself up off the floor on shaking legs, my knees wobbling as I climb back onto the bed. I get on all fours, positioning myself in the center of the mattress, and look back over my shoulder at him. My voice comes out clipped and tight.
“Just fuck me already. Stop playing around.”
I hear him mutter behind me as he shifts on the mattress, pulling his sweatpants down, “You’re awfully bossy for an omega,” and I file that comment away for later retribution because right now I feel the blunt head of his cock press against my entrance and my brain short-circuits on everything else.
It’s getting easier to take him, I think as Hyunwoo’s cock slides through my slick, loosened entrance with a smooth, wet glide that draws a low groan from him behind me.
The stretch is still significant—he’s thick enough that my rim burns as it spreads around him, my walls parting to accommodate the heavy shape of his cock as it pushes deeper—but the lube and prep and my own slick have transformed the experience from something I have to survive into something I can actually breathe through.
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I don’t want to get used to the feeling of taking a cock, don’t want my body to start expecting it or craving it, but at least I don’t feel like I’m dying when he bottoms out inside me, the thick length settling deep enough that I can feel the pressure in my lower belly.
Only I realize quickly that Hyunwoo is more determined this time than the last couple of rounds.
More focused. He grips me closer, one arm wrapping around my hips and pulling my back flush against his chest, and adjusts the angle—tilting my pelvis forward with his hand on my lower stomach, shifting his own stance on his knees behind me.
I can tell he’s trying something specific, some new technique from whatever research rabbit hole he’s fallen down this week.
I’m about to ask what he’s doing when he drives in deep—deeper than before, angling sharply upward—and the head of his cock breaches the entrance to my womb.
I keen. The sound rips out of me, higher than my normal voice, and I come instantly—my cock spurting weakly onto the sheets beneath me, my hole clenching and spasming around Hyunwoo’s length as the head of his cock pushes past my cervix and into my womb.
The sensation is overwhelming, that same deep, resonant intensity from the chopstick but magnified because his cock is thicker, hotter, alive and pulsing inside the most sensitive part of my body.
Hyunwoo growls behind me—a rough, satisfied sound—and says, “That’s it, fucking take it,” driving deeper.
I turn my head to tell him to fuck off, but the words dissolve into a strangled gasp as he grinds his hips and pushes further into my womb, the fat head of his cock stretching the delicate opening wider.