It was larger and heavier than usual—so much so that Seo Jeong-won was overwhelmed by the sheer intensity.
The pain brought tears to his eyes.
“Agh… No, please… Take it out… Please, it hurts.”
“Shhh… Easy now. Even if you cry like that, I can’t stop right now.”
Pinned underneath Kwon Tae-hee, Seo Jeong-won froze, as if struck by the finality in those words.
“But… it really hurts…”
His tear-streaked face contorted in distress, and something about the way he cried made it impossible to look away.
Though he’d always had a beautiful face, today, something felt different.
The way his large, dark eyes glistened like jewels under the moisture gave off an almost surreal aura.
“Cry a little more.”
“Agh… it hurts…”
“From now on, you only cry in front of me. Got it?”
Even while sobbing, Seo Jeong-won nodded.
Maybe if he complied, Tae-hee would ease the pressure.
He mumbled in agreement, hoping it would stop.
But instead, things only intensified.
His breath caught in his throat, and he began trembling.
He looked barely conscious, his lips swollen, marked from biting down in the effort to endure.
Tae-hee leaned in closer, brushing his jawline, his breath mixing with Jeong-won’s gasps.
“Breathe, Seo Jeong-won. You need to breathe.”
“Executive Director… please…”
Eventually, Jeong-won’s body slackened, consciousness slipping.
Tae-hee held onto him tightly, not stopping until his own tension had finally subsided.
His overwhelming instincts poured out completely, leaving no part of Jeong-won untouched.
If Jeong-won had been an Omega, the intensity might have triggered a dangerous shock.
Tae-hee, still clouded by instinct, bit softly into the curve of Jeong-won’s neck, leaving behind marks that would remain for days.
As reason slowly returned, Tae-hee still felt no urge to stop.
He shifted Jeong-won’s limp body slightly, continuing until every last need had been quieted.
His slender legs and waist trembled under the aftermath, and even in his unconscious state, Jeong-won’s body reacted.
Holding onto his thighs, Tae-hee brushed his lips along Jeong-won’s ankle and shin, leaving a trail of warmth behind.
Eventually, as the afternoon neared, Jeong-won stirred.
He was barely able to move and realized, to his shock, that Tae-hee was still connected to him.
“Executive Director… this… it feels strange. It suddenly got… bigger again.”
“It’s because of the knot. To help you conceive.”
Jeong-won’s face twisted. “I… I can’t. I’m not capable of that.”
“Try anyway.”
He knew how unlikely it was.
Even if a Beta somehow manifested Omega traits, successful conception was rare.
And even rarer was a safe delivery.
Tae-hee had someone else—someone more suited to this.
Why was he doing this with Jeong-won?
Yet despite the pain and confusion, Jeong-won stayed silent.
“I took a suppressant, but the rut won’t subside immediately. You’ll have to stay here for a few days.”
“…What about the greenhouse?”
At that moment, Tae-hee’s eyes flashed with intensity, and Jeong-won quickly changed his response.
“…Okay. I’ll stay.”
He worried about the plants he’d been nurturing, but he didn’t dare bring it up again.
***
During Tae-hee’s rut, Jeong-won frequently lost consciousness.
Even when he briefly woke, he would soon fade again.
By the time the episode finally ended, he was hooked to IV fluids and supplements, his thin body worn down completely.
His pale skin was marked from head to toe—especially the nape of his neck, which had been bitten so thoroughly that the discoloration was stark.
“…I went too far,” Tae-hee muttered quietly.
Dr. Yoon, summoned in the early dawn, had screamed upon seeing Jeong-won’s condition.
And rightly so.
As Tae-hee brushed a hand over his neck, Jeong-won whimpered weakly, flinching instinctively.
His face was pale, buried in an oversized shirt.
“I won’t do any more,” Tae-hee said quietly.
“…Please,” came the barely audible reply.
Even while barely conscious, Seo Jeong-won was begging.
Kwon Tae-hee stared silently at his pale, blood-drained face.
He tried to count how many times the rut had caused him to lose control with the beta’s body—but gave up quickly.
He couldn’t even clearly remember how it had all begun.
It was unsettling to leave behind Seo Jeong-won, who now smelled entirely of him.
Even though he was leaving him in his own house, his own bedroom, something didn’t sit right.
Still feeling uneasy, Kwon Tae-hee loosely adjusted his tie and rose with a shallow sigh.
The edge of the bed, faintly sunken from weight, rose quietly back into shape.
He felt sorry that when Seo Jeong-won woke up, he wouldn’t be able to explain why his body was in such a condition.
Even though he had used him for his own needs, seeing him lying there, so worn out, made guilt rise.
Kwon Tae-hee harshly wiped his face with a hand before finally turning away.
He walked away from the bed in long strides. With his hand on the doorknob, he looked back one last time.
He braced himself against the urge to stay, pressed the emotion down with effort.
He wanted, desperately, to remain by his side.
Click.
As the door closed, Seo Jeong-won opened his eyes.
The breath he’d tried so hard to keep steady burst out in a trembling gasp.
He hadn’t dared open his eyes out of fear that Kwon Tae-hee might not leave.
He had pretended to sleep, worried it might be obvious—but thankfully, it seemed Tae-hee hadn’t noticed.
His fingertips trembled as they reached for the shirt collar Tae-hee had last touched before leaving.
Only after a long moment of silence did he brace himself on his arm and slowly raise his upper body.
Pain surged through his abdomen, folding his body involuntarily.
His back felt as if it might break, and he couldn’t even tell if his legs were still there—numb and unresponsive.
Even the slightest movement drenched him in cold sweat.
His forehead was damp.
The IV connected to his arm had only delivered about half its contents.
Seo Jeong-won stared at the slowly falling drops, lost in thought.
He couldn’t believe what had just happened.
The memory of Kwon Tae-hee’s body swelling painfully inside him came back in flashes.
The fear that his stomach might rupture, the overwhelming pain—it had made him struggle and plead.
But instead of pulling away, Tae-hee had only pushed deeper.