Chapter 10: Morning Devotion
The journey home was a haze of cramped airplane seats and Hyukjae’s constant, silent vigilance. He managed the bags, the passports, the boarding passes with a quiet efficiency that left no room for Donghae’s nervous energy. He placed a steadying hand on the small of his back during turbulence, ordered ginger tea without being asked, and slept with his forehead pressed against Donghae’s shoulder, his breathing deep and even. The chaos of the airport upon arrival, the shouts and the rolling carts, seemed to part around them. Hyukjae’s presence was a shield.
Their apartment smelled of lemongrass cleaner and stillness. The nursery door across the hall was closed, the carpenter’s work waiting for final approval. The peace was a physical weight after the sensory overload of Bali. Donghae stood in the living room, adrift.
“You’re exhausted,” Hyukjae said, dumping their suitcases by the door. “Go lie down. I’ll unpack.”
“I should help.”
“You should rest.” Hyukjae’s voice brooked no argument, but his eyes were soft. He came over, his hands framing Donghae’s face. He kissed him, a slow, thorough claiming that tasted of airplane coffee and home. “Doctor tomorrow. Big day. Go on.”
Donghae went. Their bedroom was exactly as they’d left it, the blinds open just enough to let in a sliver of the city’s afternoon light. He stripped to his boxers and collapsed into the cool sheets, his body sighing in relief. The hum of Hyukjae moving quietly in the other room was a lullaby. He was asleep before he heard the closet door slide shut.
He woke to darkness and warmth. The city lights painted faint stripes on the ceiling. He was on his side, and Hyukjae was pressed against his back, his body a solid line of heat. Donghae felt him awake, felt the focused stillness that wasn’t sleep.
Then he felt his lips. They started at the nape of his neck, a whisper of touch. Then a trail of featherlight kisses down the length of his spine, each one a deliberate point of contact through the thin cotton of his shirt. Hyukjae’s hand smoothed over his hip, holding him in place. The kisses descended, over the swell of his ass, down the back of his thigh. They were reverent, mapping.
When Hyukjae’s mouth found the delicate spot behind his knee, he lingered. His breath was hot. “I love this mole,” he whispered, his voice raspy with sleep and something else. “This perfect, tiny fucking spot.” Then he bit down, not hard, but with a sudden, sharp possessiveness that made Donghae gasp and jerk against the sheets.
Hyukjae soothed the bite with his tongue, a slow, wet apology. His hands slid under Donghae, turning him onto his back with an effortless strength that still surprised him. In the dim light, Hyukjae’s eyes were dark pools, his expression unreadable. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Donghae’s boxers and pulled them down, off, tossing them to the floor.
The cool air touched his skin. Hyukjae pushed his thighs apart, his gaze dropping between them. He drank in the sight, his chest rising and falling a little faster. He leaned down, his face so close Donghae could feel the heat. “And I love this,” Hyukjae murmured, his words a hot puff against his soaked folds. “This swollen, beautiful cunt. This cunt that takes my knot so fucking perfectly.” The obscenity, delivered in that low, worshipful tone, made Donghae’s stomach clench.
Then Hyukjae’s tongue was on him. A broad, flat stroke from his entrance all the way up to his clit. Donghae cried out, his hands flying to Hyukjae’s hair. Hyukjae ate him like a man starved, with a single-minded, filthy intensity. He licked into him, fucking him with his tongue, his nose buried against him. He suckled on his clit, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and applying a ruthless, rhythmic pressure.
“Taste like heaven,” Hyukjae growled against him, his voice vibrating through Donghae’s core. “Taste like mine.” He added two fingers, thrusting them deep, crooking them to press against that devastating spot inside. His mouth never left him, his tongue working in counterpoint to his fingers.
The dual assault was overwhelming. Donghae thrashed, his back arching off the bed, a litany of curses and pleas falling from his lips. “There, right there, fuck, don’t stop, please—“ His climax built like a tsunami, unavoidable, seismic. Hyukjae felt it, his motions becoming more frantic, more desperate.
“Come,” Hyukjae commanded, his mouth wet and relentless. “Scream for me. Let me taste it.”
Donghae screamed. It tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered, as his orgasm exploded through him. His release gushed against Hyukjae’s tongue and chin. Hyukjae drank it down, moaning his own pleasure into Donghae’s flesh, his fingers working him through the violent, fluttering pulses.
When the last shudder passed, Hyukjae crawled up his body. He kissed him, deep and messy, forcing Donghae to taste himself on Hyukjae’s tongue. He was hard, his cock pressing insistently against Donghae’s thigh. “Need to be inside,” he panted, his control fraying. “Now.”
Donghae was boneless, oversensitive, but he nodded. “Yes.”
Hyukjae didn’t wait for more. He positioned himself and pushed in with one deep, unbroken thrust. The stretch was glorious, a filling ache that grounded him. Hyukjae didn’t move. He braced himself above Donghae, his arms trembling, his forehead pressed to Donghae’s. He was sheathed to the hilt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Feels…” he choked out. “After everything… feels like coming home.”
The raw emotion in his voice unlocked something in Donghae. He wrapped his legs around Hyukjae’s waist, pulling him closer. “Then fuck me like it’s home.”
Hyukjae’s rhythm was different. It wasn’t the frantic pace of the pool or the careful, rut-driven rolls from Bali. This was deep, purposeful, almost mournful. Each thrust was a reclamation, a reaffirmation. His eyes were open, locked on Donghae’s, refusing to let him look away. The sound of their bodies meeting was a wet, solid slap in the quiet room.
“You’re everything,” Hyukjae gritted out, his hips snapping forward. “This… this body, carrying our child. This heart. This stubborn, gorgeous mind.” He punctuated each phrase with a drive of his hips. “Mine. To protect. To love. To fuck.” The last word was a snarl.
Donghae met every thrust, his nails scoring down Hyukjae’s back. He was close again, the pressure coiling tight and low. “Hyukjae…”
“I know. I feel it.” Hyukjae shifted, driving in at a new angle, and Donghae saw stars. “Come with me. Let go.”
The knot began to swell, that familiar, stretching fullness. It pushed Donghae over the edge. His second orgasm was a deeper, rolling wave, milking Hyukjae’s cock as it pulsed inside him. Hyukjae followed with a broken cry, his knot locking them together as he emptied himself, his release hot and endless. He collapsed, his weight carefully balanced on his forearms, his face buried in Donghae’s neck. They were tied, flush, one.
Long minutes passed. The knot subsided. Hyukjae slipped out and rolled to the side, immediately pulling Donghae against him. They were both slick with sweat, trembling.
The digital clock on the nightstand glowed 4:17 AM. The ultrasound was in nine hours.
Donghae’s hand drifted to his stomach. A quiet, anxious flutter had taken up residence beneath his ribs, unrelated to pleasure. “What if something’s wrong?” The question left him in the dark, small and vulnerable.
Hyukjae was silent for a long time. His hand covered Donghae’s, his thumb stroking his knuckles. “Then we handle it,” he said finally, his voice absolute. “We’ve handled worse.”
“The doctor said… with the past trauma… my history… it can increase risks.”
“I don’t care what the statistics say.” Hyukjae turned him, forcing Donghae to meet his gaze. In the faint light, his eyes were fierce. “You are not a statistic. You are Donghae. You survived. You’re strong. And those pups…” He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to the curve of his stomach. “They’re fighters. Like their Appa. Like their Dad.”
The titles, spoken so easily, lodged in Donghae’s throat. He blinked against a sudden burn in his eyes.
“We see them tomorrow,” Hyukjae continued, his voice softening. “We see their perfect little hearts beating. And then we come home, and we finish that damn nursery.” He kissed Donghae’s forehead. “That’s the plan. Go to sleep.”
Donghae closed his eyes, listening to Hyukjae’s heartbeat steady under his ear. The plan was simple. See the hearts. Build the home. It was enough to hold onto. He clutched it like a raft as sleep, heavy and dark, pulled him under.
When he woke again, sunlight was streaming in. Hyukjae was already moving, the smell of toast and coffee drifting from the kitchen. The day had arrived.
The toast tasted like ash. Donghae forced it down, watching Hyukjae move with a taut, efficient energy. He rinsed the same coffee cup three times. His silence wasn’t peaceful. It was a held breath.
“You’re grinding your teeth,” Donghae said quietly.
Hyukjae stopped, his shoulders rigid by the sink. He exhaled, a long, deliberate stream of air. “Am I?” He turned, wiping his hands on a towel that didn’t need wiping. His smile was a thin, strained thing. “Let’s go. Traffic might be bad.”
The clinic was all soft lighting and muted pastels, a deliberate assault on anxiety. The scent of antiseptic undercut the gentle lavender in the air. Donghae’s palms were slick. He filled out forms with Hyukjae’s steady hand guiding his when his own writing faltered.
A nurse called his name. Her voice was too cheerful. They followed her into a dim room dominated by a padded table and a sinister-looking machine humming quietly in the corner.Cold gel. The wand, a smooth, plastic probe. The screen flickered to life, a storm of grainy, shifting static.
The technician’s face was a mask of professional calm. She pressed the wand deep, and Donghae flinched at the pressure, at the profound intimacy of the intrusion. Hyukjae’s hand was a vise on his.
Then, a sound cut through the hum. A fast, rhythmic thumping. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
“There’s Baby A,” the technician said, her finger tracing a blurry, bean-shaped shadow on the screen. A strong, steady flutter within it. The heartbeat was a tiny, frantic drum. Hyukjae’s breath hitched.
She moved the wand. More pressure. Another flutter appeared, then another. “Baby B. And Baby C. All heartbeats are strong. Excellent rates.”
Donghae stared. The three flickering pulses danced across the monitor, separate yet together. He could see them now, three distinct forms, curled and alien and perfect. A choked sound escaped him. Not a sob. Something more primitive.
Hyukjae brought Donghae’s knuckles to his mouth, pressing his lips hard against the bone. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the screen, drinking in the proof.
The wand moved again, measuring crown-to-rump lengths, checking fluid levels. The technician’s monotone narrative became a blur. “Placental positioning looks good. Amniotic fluid volumes are within normal range. No visible markers for concern at this stage.”
Normal. Good. Within range. The words landed, one by one, dissolving the icy knot in Donghae’s gut. He felt light, untethered.
“Would you like to know the genders?” the technician asked, her smile finally reaching her eyes.
Donghae looked at Hyukjae. Hyukjae nodded, a sharp, eager jerk of his chin.
“Baby A is a girl.” She pointed. “Baby B is a boy. And Baby C… another boy.”
A daughter. Two sons. The information crashed over Donghae, a wave of terrifying, glorious specificity. They had names now, in his heart. They were real. Hyukjae’s hand trembled against his. When Donghae glanced at him, he saw a single tear trace a clean path down his alpha’s cheek. Hyukjae swiped at it angrily, as if embarrassed by its betrayal.
The rest was a blur of printed images and scheduling the next appointment. They walked out into the blinding midday sun, clutching black-and-white photos of their blurry, miraculous ghosts. The city noise was a jarring symphony. They stood on the sidewalk, disoriented.
Hyukjae blinked, coming back to himself. He looked at Donghae, really looked at him. “You’re shaking.”
“They’re okay,” Donghae said, the words tasting strange. “All three. They’re really okay.”
“Yeah.” Hyukjae’s grin broke through, wide and unfiltered, erasing the morning’s tension. He pulled Donghae into a fierce, public hug, right there on the sidewalk. He smelled of clinic soap and unwavering relief. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.” He pulled back, his gaze dropping to Donghae’s mouth, then lower. A different heat sparked in his eyes, cutting through the joy. “Let’s go home. Now.”
The drive was a fever dream. Hyukjae’s hand rested high on Donghae’s thigh, his thumb stroking the inseam of his jeans with a restless, possessive rhythm. The elevator up to their apartment felt too slow, a glass cage humming with unspoken intent. The moment the door shut behind them, Hyukjae pushed Donghae back against it, swallowing his gasp with a bruising, hungry kiss.
“You were so brave,” Hyukjae muttered against his lips, his hands already pulling at Donghae’s shirt. “Sitting there. Letting them poke at you. All for them.” He bit Donghae’s lower lip, a sharp punctuation. “I need to feel you. Need to be inside you right fucking now.”
Donghae’s own need was a live wire, sparked by the scan’s intimacy and the raw victory in Hyukjae’s eyes. “The doctor never said…” he panted, as Hyukjae’s mouth traveled to his neck. “After the scan… is it—”
Hyukjae pulled back, his eyes dark and serious. “Are you in pain? Any bleeding? Cramping?”
“No. Nothing.” Donghae shook his head, pushing his hips forward. “Just… I’m so fucking randy. The pregnancy… it makes me horny all the time. Can we… just like normal?”
The growl that ripped from Hyukjae’s chest was pure alpha satisfaction. “Normal,” he repeated, like a vow. “Fuck yes.”
He made quick, brutal work of their clothes, fabric tearing in his urgency. He dropped to his knees right there in the foyer. He pushed Donghae’s thighs apart and buried his face between them without preamble. His tongue was a blunt, demanding pressure, licking deep into his entrance, lapping up the slick that had already gathered. He didn’t tease. He devoured.
“Taste like relief,” Hyukjae snarled, his words vibrating against Donghae’s clit. “Taste like fucking victory.” He added two fingers, thrusting them in hard, scissoring them to stretch him wide. Donghae cried out, his head thudding back against the door. The cold wood against his back, the hot mouth on his cunt, the ghostly images of their children seared behind his eyelids—it was sensory overload.
Hyukjae stood, his cock jutting out, thick and flushed. He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly. He lifted Donghae’s leg, hooking it over his hip, and drove inside with one relentless thrust. The fullness was breathtaking, a raw claiming that mirrored the earlier medical invasion, but this one was for them alone. He set a punishing pace immediately, each snap of his hips slamming Donghae against the door, the impact shuddering through the wood.
“This cunt,” Hyukjae gritted out, his breath hot on Donghae’s ear. “This perfect, wet cunt that’s holding our babies. It’s mine.” He pistoned into him, the wet slap of their skin echoing in the tiled space. “Say it.”
“Yours!” Donghae screamed, the admission torn from him. “Always yours!”
Hyukjae’s hand slid between them, his thumb finding Donghae’s clit and pressing down in hard, tight circles. The dual assault was too much. Donghae came with a shattered gasp, his cunt clenching in violent spasms around Hyukjae’s pounding length. The orgasm seemed to pull Hyukjae’s own release from him. He shouted, a raw, guttural sound, and pushed deep, his knot swelling rapidly to lock them together. He pulsed inside him, his come flooding Donghae’s depths in hot, endless waves.
They sagged against the door, a tangled, sweaty mess, still joined. Hyukjae’s forehead rested on Donghae’s shoulder, his breathing ragged. The knot held them, a biological anchor in the wake of the storm.
As the pleasure ebbed, a new, profound stillness settled. Hyukjae carefully gathered Donghae into his arms, his knot finally subsiding, and carried him to their rumpled bed. He didn’t let go. He arranged them on their sides, Donghae’s back to his front, his hand splayed over the gentle swell of his stomach.
The afternoon light slanted across the floor, catching the dust motes. They lay in silence, the only sound their slowing breath. Hyukjae’s fingers traced idle patterns on Donghae’s skin.
“We have to build the cribs,” Donghae whispered into the quiet.
“I know.”
“We need more onesies.”
“We’ll get a hundred.”
Another long silence. Hyukjae’s arm tightened around him. “A girl,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet wonder. “I’m going to be so fucking scared for her.”
Donghae placed his hand over Hyukjae’s, lacing their fingers together over the place where their daughter slept. “She’ll have you,” he said. “She’ll have us.”
Hyukjae pressed a kiss to his shoulder, a seal of a promise. Outside, the city continued its indifferent roar. Inside, in the sun-warmed silence, they charted the terrifying, exquisite geography of what came next.
Inside, in the sun-warmed silence, they charted the terrifying, exquisite geography of what came next. The peace was a thin veil. Donghae felt it first as a prickling under his skin, a restlessness deep in his marrow. He shifted against Hyukjae, his backside pressing against the alpha’s softening cock. A fresh wave of slickness, hot and unmistakable, soaked the sheets beneath him. His scent shifted, deepening, becoming cloyingly sweet like burnt honey and ripe peaches.
Hyukjae’s nose twitched against his neck. He inhaled sharply, his body tensing. “Hae.” His voice was a low rumble. “Is that…?”
“It’s my heat.” The words came out strained. The hormonal surge, delayed by stress and travel, was crashing over him now, triggered by the profound relief of the scan. Every nerve ending felt scraped raw, oversensitive. The need wasn’t just horniness; it was a desperate, cellular scream for his alpha’s seed. He rolled over, facing Hyukjae. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown. “I need you. I can’t… I need you inside me right now. I need it so badly it hurts.”
The change in Hyukjae was instantaneous. The soft post-coital haze vanished, replaced by a predatory focus. His own scent spiked, dark and stormy, a direct answer to the omega’s call. “Okay,” he said, the word thick. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He sat up, pulling Donghae with him. “How do you want it?”
“Every way,” Donghae begged, his hands scrambling over Hyukjae’s chest. “Just don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” He was already sinking, his body dictating the terms. He pushed Hyukjae onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. But instead of impaling himself, he leaned forward, his mouth hovering over Hyukjae’s cock. It was already hardening again, responding to the heat pheromones thickening the air.
“Fuck, look at you,” Hyukjae groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets.
Donghae took him in, swallowing him down to the root in one smooth, practiced motion. He didn’t tease.This was business. He set a brutal, rhythmic pace, his head bobbing, his throat working open around the thick girth. Saliva dripped down his chin, mixing with pre-come. The filthy, wet sounds were loud in the quiet room. He looked up, meeting Hyukjae’s blazing gaze as he sucked, hollowing his cheeks.
“Gonna make me come down your throat,” Hyukjae warned, his hips lifting off the bed.
Donghae hummed in affirmation, the vibration making Hyukjae curse. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue lapping at the frenulum with each punishing upstroke. Hyukjae’s control shattered. He thrust upward, fucking Donghae’s mouth in short, sharp jerks. “Gonna come. Take it.”
The first salty spurt hit the back of Donghae’s throat. He swallowed greedily, sucking Hyukjae through his orgasm, milking every last drop until he was soft and sensitive. He pulled off with a wet pop, panting, his own need a wildfire. He crawled up Hyukjae’s body, presenting his chest. His nipples were hard, pebbled, a faint dampness already darkening the fabric of his shirt. “Taste,” he demanded, shoving the cotton up.
Hyukjae needed no further invitation. He latched onto one nipple, sucking hard. The sweet, thin stream of milk hit his tongue. He moaned, a sound of pure bliss, and sucked deeper, pulling with a rhythmic hunger that shot straight to Donghae’s core. His other hand kneaded the opposite breast, fingers pinching the nipple until more milk beaded and leaked.
“More,” Donghae gasped, arching into his mouth. “Drink it all.” Hyukjae switched sides, devouring him with the same single-minded intensity, sucking until Donghae’s head spun and his cunt wept. He was being consumed, drained, and it only stoked the frantic heat higher.
“Now,” Donghae sobbed, tearing himself away. Hyukjae’s mouth was slick with his milk. “Fuck me. Now, alpha. I need your cock. I need your knot.”
Hyukjae flipped him onto his hands and knees with a rough, graceful motion. He positioned himself behind, not entering, just rubbing the head of his renewed hardness through Donghae’s dripping slit. “This desperate, greedy hole,” he growled. “It’s screaming for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes! Yes, it’s yours, just fill it, please!”
Hyukjae slammed home. The penetration was a shock of perfect fullness. Donghae screamed, pushing back against him. Hyukjae set a pace that was nothing short of violent, each thrust jolting Donghae forward, his hands scrambling for purchase on the headboard. The sound of skin slapping against skin was obscenely loud, mixed with Hyukjae’s grunts and Donghae’s choked cries.
“Ride it,” Hyukjae commanded, pulling out suddenly and rolling onto his back. “You wanted it. Take it.”
Donghae scrambled, impaling himself again in one frantic movement. He rode Hyukjae like his life depended on it, because in this heat-hazed moment, it did. He bounced on his cock, driving him deeper with every downward plunge, his thighs burning with the effort. He was a mess of sweat and milk and slick, his movements growing wilder, less coordinated.
Hyukjae’s hands gripped his hips, fingers digging into bone, guiding the punishing rhythm. “That’s it. Use my cock. Milk it with that tight cunt.” His own release was building, his knot beginning to swell at the base, catching with each brutal stroke.
“I’m gonna come,” Donghae wailed, the coil inside him snapping. His orgasm ripped through him, violent and endless, his channel spasming around Hyukjae’s length. The intense clenching dragged Hyukjae over the edge. He roared, surging up to bury himself to the hilt as his knot locked them together. His come pumped into Donghae in hot, pulsing jets, flooding his womb.
They collapsed together, a tangled, breathing mess. The knot held, binding them as the heat’s fever slowly began to break, replaced by a deep, satiated exhaustion. Hyukjae’s hand stroked the curve of Donghae’s belly, where their children slept, undisturbed by the storm. The silence returned, heavier now, profound. The geography ahead was still uncharted, but for this moment, they were anchored.