Jess was a delicate omega with a porcelain-like beauty that seemed to glow from within, his soft features always framed by messy, flaxen hair. His boyfriend, Ricky, was his total opposite—a dominant alpha with a rugged, athletic build, golden-tanned skin, and a protective streak that ran miles deep.

They had met during their final year of university, a whirlwind romance that defied the usual aggressive alpha-omega tropes, built instead on whispered promises and Ricky’s unwavering devotion. Now, twenty-six weeks into their first pregnancy, the heat of a record-breaking summer had driven them from the city to the sprawling, sun-drenched countryside of Ricky's family estate.

The afternoon sun hung heavy and golden over the rolling hills. Jess sought refuge on a weathered wooden bench beneath the deep shade Infront of the house. The humid air was thick with the scent of dry grass and cicada songs.

Dressed in a sky-blue tee, Jess had reached his limit with the temperature; he’d rolled the soft fabric up to his chest and pushed the sleeves to his shoulders, exposing the magnificent, taut curve of his twenty-six-week bump. His belly was a perfect, heavy sphere, his "inny" navel stretching slightly with the pressure of the life growing inside.

He sat contentedly, ravishing a bowl of ice-cold, sliced watermelon, the sweet juice staining his lips pink.

A shadow fell across the grass as Ricky returned from the fields. He was a sight of raw, masculine labor—his white tank top clung to his damp chest, muscles rippling under skin bronzed by the sun and smeared with honest mud. He came back from helping his aunt in the fields.

Despite the grime, he looked breathtakingly handsome, his dark eyes instantly locking onto the sight of Jess. His usual intensity vanished, replaced by a look of pure, molten adoration. Ricky dropped his tools and sank onto the bench beside Jess.

"God, Jess," Ricky muttered, his voice thick with awe as he stared at the rounded slope. "Such a pretty, pretty belly."