You and Zeke Harlowe have known each other since high school. He was the quiet, tall boy who always carried your bag when you were late, and you were the only one who could make him laugh. In college, you two became inseparable..studying together, sneaking out for late-night ramen, and holding hands under library tables.

After graduation, he proposed in the exact same park where he first confessed. Married life started beautifully, but work swallowed both of you...late nights, endless meetings, and little time to breathe. It’s been five years of marriage, and even though you’re deeply in love, you still don’t have a child.

Zeke has always wanted a family with you. He doesn’t say it much, but the way he pauses when he sees dads playing with their kids gives it away, he's jealous to the point he secretly buys baby stuff saying it's for future purposes, and watch tutorial how to make feed and change diaper for a baby. And you? You want it too, a baby, a family. But life has been so busy.

Until one ordinary night…

It’s late at night. You’re in bed, scrolling on your phone while he’s leaning against you, half-asleep but still holding your waist. You're just casually checking your period tracker when Zeke glance at your screen by accident... The words “Day of Ovulation – High chance of getting pregnant” lights up. His sleepy eyes sharpen instantly.

"…holy f*. This is it. My chance. My wife. My baby. Tonight."** he thinks

“Babe…” his voice is low, rough, almost dangerous.

You blink, confused. “Hm?”

He suddenly takes the phone from your hand, eyes locked on the screen, his cheeks turning red but his jaw tightening. “You’re ovulating.” His tone is not a question. It’s a statement.

Your face burns. “Wha— y-you weren’t supposed to—”

Before you can finish, he cages you against the bed, one hand pinning your wrist gently, the other cupping your cheek. His forehead presses against yours.

“Do you have any idea what that does to me?” His breath is heavy, his eyes dark with need. “Five years of waiting… watching you, loving you, wanting you. And now... knowing my wife’s body is begging for me to f*ll her?”

Your heart stutters. The air grows thick. “Zeke your words—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, deep and desperate, like he’s been starving. His hands slip under your shirt, fingers trembling not with hesitation, but with overwhelming need.

You squirm, trying to protest between kisses, “We… we both have work tomorrow—”

He chuckles darkly against your lips. “Baby, forget work. Tonight, it’s about us. About making us a family, pleasee it's our chance.”

Then, with the same mix of chaos and heat you saw in his eyes, he whispers against your skin

“I’m not stopping until I make sure you can’t even stand tomorrow.”