Jet immediately turned them both around, gripping Han's arm like a lifeline.
"Fuck!" Jet hissed. "This is not what I expected!"
Han was just as surprised. His father hadn't mentioned anything about his extended family being present. "You think you can handle it?"
Jet hesitated, then let out a slow breath before nodding. "Yeah… let's just get this over with."
They walked to their seats—six family members in total. But Jet immediately noticed the absence of one person.
Han's mother wasn't here.
The table was an odd number, including them. Yet, instead of disapproving glances or awkward tension, the family's expressions were warm. They seemed genuinely pleased at Jet—maybe it was Han's scent covering over him.
One by one, the elders introduced themselves.
"I'm Long Yau, a male Alpha, and this is my husband, Greg Bush, a Beta," the first man introduced. "Han's first uncle—his father's older brother."
"Xin Yau, a Beta, and my husband, Jonathan—also a Beta," the older woman said gracefully. "Han's older aunt."
"Hello! I'm Yun Yau, a female Omega, and this is my girlfriend, Lana," the youngest one said, beaming. "Han's younger aunt!"
Jet gave a polite nod, offering a small smile. "My name's Ron, a male Alpha."
Greg's eyes widened slightly. "Two Alphas?" He exchanged an intrigued glance with Han's father. "Well, this is interesting. Han's father never told us anything about you."
Han smirked. "Why tell you when you were going to meet him tonight?"
The table filled with laughter, breaking the ice. But Jet still wasn't sure if he should relax just yet.
Jet forced a small laugh, but inside, he was still panicking. How was Han so calm about this?!
He glanced at Han, who just smirked at him, as if reading his mind. Jet quickly turned away, focusing on the food instead. At least if his mouth was full, he wouldn't have to answer too many questions.
"Ron, right?" Han's first uncle, Long, leaned forward with interest. "How did you and Han meet?"
Jet nearly choked on his drink. He set it down carefully, quickly glancing at Han for help, but the bastard just smirked, clearly enjoying the situation.
"We—uh," Jet stalled, scrambling for an answer that wasn't 'I met him in another life, before he got killed by my brother because of people taking.'
Han finally decided to help. "We met coincidentally," he said smoothly, resting his arm on the back of Jet's chair. "He's… something."
Jet shot him a glare but nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"That's good," Xin Yau said with a smile. "Han's always been hard to get close to."
Yun Yau grinned, leaning forward. "So, Ron, do you cook? Clean? Any hobbies?"
Jet hesitated. 'Why did this suddenly feel like an interrogation?!'
"Reading, I guess," Jet replied before taking a bite. "I like going to libraries to borrow books, but sometimes I buy them too."
The conversation soon turned lively, with questions coming from all directions. Jet and Han took turns answering, and to Jet's surprise, it wasn't as bad as he had feared. The atmosphere was warm, and for once, he felt genuinely welcomed.
As the night went on, drinks were served. The elders enjoyed their whiskey, Han sipped from his cup, but Jet barely touched his. Even with just a quarter of the glass, he could already feel the alcohol's strength.
"Ms. Xin, you're not married?" Jet asked curiously.
"I was—for two years," she said, swirling her whiskey. "But it didn't feel right, so we had a simple divorce. He didn't love me, and I didn't love him. After that, I met a few more people before settling down with Lana. She doesn't want marriage either, and that's fine with me." She took a slow sip before adding, "Kid, if you don't want it, don't do it. You might regret it."
Jet nodded, understanding her words. As the evening continued, the elders caught up with one another, leaving Jet and Han mostly silent.
'When can I go home?' Jet groaned internally. 'At least no one's staring at me.'
Jet reached for his whiskey, but before he could take a sip, he felt something on his thigh, followed by a squeeze. Startled, he looked down and grabbed the hand—only to meet Han's smirking face.
Jet fought the heat rising to his cheeks, but Han wasn't making it easy. Annoyed, he shoved Han's hand away and tried to take another sip of his drink, only for Han to swipe it first.
"Don't drink too much," Han said smoothly before downing the rest. "You can't handle it."
Jet rolled his eyes but knew Han was right. A dull headache was already creeping in. As the minutes passed, Han's teasing continued, but Jet's discomfort worsened. Eventually, he had to grip Han's hand for support, his body swaying slightly.
Han immediately noticed something was wrong. When he pressed a hand to Jet's forehead, his brows furrowed. He's burning up.
Turning to the table, Han apologized, "I'm sorry, everyone, but Jet's not feeling well. We're heading home early tonight."
With that, he wrapped an arm around Jet and guided him outside.
As they walked, Jet mumbled weakly, "It hurts..."
"You're burning up," Han said, tightening his grip. "Hang in there. Let's get you home."
He helped Jet into the car, his worry deepening as he watched Jet struggle to keep his eyes open.
—
The car ride was thick with tension, filled only with the hum of the engine and Jet's uneven breathing. Han kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding Jet's, though Jet's grip was weak, trembling slightly in his grasp.
"Hold on, we're almost there," Han reassured, his voice steady.
Jet mumbled something, but it was incoherent, his words slurring together. His scent was changing, thickening, and Han felt the shift in the air—warm, intoxicating, pulling at something deep inside him.
Jet suddenly pulled his hand away, pressing himself against the car door like he was trying to put distance between them.
Han tightened his grip on the wheel.
By the time they reached the apartment building, Jet stumbled out first, refusing Han's help. In the elevator, they stood apart—Jet clinging to the railing, his body tense, and Han standing rigidly by the door. Every time Han tried to step closer, Jet shook his head rapidly, declining without words.
The studio door unlocked. Jet walked in.
And Han felt it.
The moment Jet stepped inside, the air shifted—heavy, overwhelming. The scent hit Han like a punch to the gut, pure need flooded the room. His body reacted before his mind could process it, his fingers curling into fists as his instincts screamed at him to step inside, to stay.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Jet's hands trembled as he tore off his tie, his breaths shaky and uneven. Han stood frozen, eyes locked onto him, his pulse hammering.
"...Jet," Han called, his voice lower than he intended.
Jet cursed, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck—I didn't think it'd be a week early."
His voice wavered, body already responding before his mind could catch up. His rut was here, brutal and demanding, and he was struggling to keep control.
Han's fingers twitched at his sides. He should leave. He knew he should. The rational part of him told him to walk out before things escalated.
But something in him wouldn't let him move.
He couldn't take his eyes off Jet, couldn't step away. His instincts were chaining him to the spot, unwilling to leave, unable to fight the pull between them.
Han swallowed hard, jaw tight. "Jet, I should—"
Before he could finish, Jet turned, eyes blown wide with need, his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
Jet moved fast, grabbing Han by the collar, pulling him in so their bodies flushed together. His scent crashed into Han, making his head spin, and Han's body stiffened at the sheer heat radiating from Jet.
Jet buried his nose in the crook of Han's neck, inhaling deeply, desperately. "Your scent…" His voice was rough, shaking. "It helps… I need more."
Han gritted his teeth. His hands hovered at Jet's waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.
Lips crashed against his, feverish and demanding, a mixture of frustration and longing. Jet didn't hesitate, fingers gripping Han's shirt, pulling him down into the kiss like he was trying to drown in it.
Han froze, his body going rigid, his mind screaming at him to stop. But Jet wasn't just kissing him—he was clinging to him, as if Han's presence alone was keeping him from unraveling completely.
And that was what made Han break.
His hesitation melted away as his arms finally moved—one hand gripping Jet's waist, the other sliding up to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. He kissed back, slower than Jet, steadier, grounding. Jet let out a soft noise against his lips, leaning into him, his body pressing flush against Han's.
"This is going to be a long night,"