Yoon Seoyul's hands kept pressing down firmly—both of them now, large and hot—right over the low swell in Cheon Areum's belly, where the knot protruded visibly beneath the skin. The outline was unmistakable: thick, rounded, pressing outward like a fist trapped under thin silk.
He writhed—desperate, uncoordinated—legs kicking weakly. The knot felt enormous now, locked so tight it seemed fused to him; the constant fullness, combined with the deliberate press of Yoon Seoyul's hands, turned every nerve into fire. Slick leaked in steady pulses around the seal, warm trails sliding down his thighs, soaking the sheets further, but it did nothing to ease the overwhelming stretch.
