Jet was tired, but in his mind, Han was still the one who needed looking after. A fever and a rut combined weren't something to brush off.
Stretching, he pulled on Han's clean clothes—the ones he snatched while Han was in the bathroom—before making his way to the kitchen. After gulping down a glass of water, he rummaged through the fridge, pulling out some vegetables. Simple meals were all he knew, but it would do.
As the rice cooker worked, Jet chopped tomatoes and scrambled eggs. The quiet hum of the kitchen was interrupted by approaching footsteps.
"Cooking?"
Jet felt warm arms wrap around his waist as Han leaned in, pressing against his back.
Jet rolled his eyes and passed him the wooden spoon. "You cook better than me anyway. I only know this dish."
Han hummed, taking over without hesitation. The soft sounds of the pan sizzling filled the space as Jet sat down at the table, a hand pressing his sore back.
Lunch was quickly served as they ate, Jet noticed something—Han's pheromones were different. Softer, calmer. Nothing like last night or even this morning when they woke up tangled together.
Was he… holding back?
The thought unsettled him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
Once they finished eating, Han gathered their plates, moving to the sink.
Jet followed. "I'll wash—"
Han shook his head, already rinsing the dishes. "It's no big deal."
Jet frowned, but before he could argue, something shifted. The air grew heavier, warmer, laced with Han's scent. It wasn't overwhelming, but it wrapped around Jet like a quiet warning—let me take care of you.
Jet exhaled slowly. 'Yeah. Han was still stuck in protective mode.'
The afternoon passed in a quiet rhythm, but Jet noticed something—Han kept hovering, watching him. Checking on him.
Jet could tolerate a lot, but Han fussing over him like he was the one in need of care? That was where he drew the line.
So when Han walked past him again, probably to tell him to rest for the hundredth time, Jet grabbed him—and with one smooth motion, lifted him off the floor and dropped him onto the sofa.
Han barely had time to react before Jet loomed over him, arms crossed.
Then, it hit Jet—the sudden shift in Han's scent.
It wasn't aggressive, but it thickened, darkened, curling in the space between them like an invisible tether. Jet inhaled sharply, his body reacting before his mind could catch up.
Damn it. Even now, Han's instincts were messing with him.
"What's wrong with you?" Jet demanded. "You keep telling me to rest all day when you're the one with a fever."
Han looked up at him, calm as ever. "You seemed tired. Thought you needed it more."
Jet let out a slow sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Han. Being a little sore is normal. Having a fever and a rut at the same time is not. Take your damn medicine and sleep."
Han stared for a moment before finally nodding, listening to him.
Dinner was quiet, but as they ate, Jet could tell—Han's scent was getting heavier again, thick and clinging to the air like it was unwilling to leave.
Jet had no idea if Han was still holding back or if his body was just too exhausted to act on his instincts.
But when Han suddenly smirked, sliding Jet's plate toward him, Jet immediately knew the teasing was back.
"Eat up, sleepyhead," Han said, voice smooth, slow. "Gotta use the energy later."
Jet paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "…Who says we're doing it?"
Han looked up at him, eyes glinting. His scent spiked ever so slightly, curling around Jet's senses, teasing. "Really? Giving up already?"
Jet swallowed, gripping his fork tighter. He's doing this on purpose.
Jet scoffed. "If I go through another night like last night, I won't be able to walk for a week."
Han chuckled, voice dark with amusement. "Is that so?"
Jet didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Because the moment night fell, Jet made the first move—not because he wanted to be in control, but because he knew Han would take control the moment he lost patience.
But Jet wasn't expecting this.
Han didn't immediately take over. He didn't devour him like last night.
Instead, Han was slow.
Too slow.
Every movement was deliberate, dragging it out, making Jet feel every damn millimetre, every slight shift. Han was taking his time—forcing Jet to take his time with him.
And it was driving Jet insane.
He dug his nails into Han's arms, panting. "Han… hurry up—"
Han only chuckled, low and teasing. "You wanted control, remember? Don't rush it now."
Jet whined.
And Han… Han loved every second of it.
Han pressed soft, lingering kisses down Jet's neck, taking his time, savoring the warmth of his skin. His scent surrounded Jet, thick and slow-moving, sinking into his skin like warmth spreading through his veins.
Jet trembled beneath him, breath hitching as each movement sent a deep ache through his already sensitive body. "Han—"
Han hummed, amusement laced with something darker. His scent curled tighter, brushing against Jet's instincts like a match teasing the edge of a flame.
Jet groaned, his head tipping back, his patience wearing thin. "Hurry up and take it back."
A deep chuckle rumbled from Han's chest as he pressed his lips just behind Jet's ear. "What is it, baby?" His voice was thick with amusement, but there was a restraint in it too, as if he were holding himself back—still teasing, still in control.
Jet knew it. He felt it.
And he hated it.
"You're—" Jet sucked in a sharp breath when Han's hands skimmed lower. "You're going too slow."
Han only smirked against his skin.
Jet groaned, his head tipping back, his patience wearing thin. "Hurry up and take it back."
That was all Han needed.
In an instant, the teasing glint in Han's eyes darkened, his restraint snapping like a thread stretched too tight. He kissed Jet hard, claiming every breath, every sound, before pressing him down against the bed. His weight, his scent, his warmth—Jet felt everything.
And when Han finally moved, finally gave in to the pull between them, Jet knew he was done for.
Han had held back all day.
But now?
Now, he wasn't holding back at all.
Jet trembled beneath him, his body burning, breath coming out in shaky gasps. Han's touch was firm, steady, dragging across heated skin as he coaxed Jet into another helpless whimper.
"You were so eager earlier," Han murmured, voice low and warm against Jet's ear. His fingers trailed down Jet's stomach, teasing over sensitive skin. "Now you can't even speak?"
Jet bit his lip, trying to hold back a noise, but Han pressed in deeper—just a little—and Jet's body arched, an uncontrollable shudder wracking through him.
"Y-Yau Han—"
Han kissed his temple, his touch slow, measured. "Shh, take it. I've got you."
Jet barely registered the words before a new wave crashed over him. He gasped, hands gripping onto Han's arms as warmth filled him—too much, overflowing, trickling down his thighs.
Han exhaled, watching the mess spill from Jet, his fingers gently spreading it, rubbing slow, deliberate circles against sensitive skin.
"Mm, you're so full," he murmured, satisfied. "I was holding back, but look at you…"
Jet's breathing hitched, his body twitching. "Han, s-stop—"
But Han only smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to Jet's jaw. "Not yet, sweetheart."
Then, without warning, Han thrust deeper, making Jet cry out, unable to hold back the noises spilling from his lips. His body trembled, overwhelmed, and it wasn't long before Han filled him up again. As he pulled out, his fingers replaced him, pressing in to keep it from leaking out too soon.
Jet moaned, breath hitching. "Fuck… Don't fill me up like that, I might… ugh…"
Han's smirk deepened, eyes dark with amusement. "Might what?"
Jet huffed, struggling to catch his breath, his face flushed. "Might… get pregnant," he teased.
Han stilled for a moment before he chuckled, low and deep. "Oh?" His fingers flexed against Jet's thigh before he gave it a slow squeeze. "And what if you do?"
Jet's breath hitched as Han pushed his fingers in deeper, making sure nothing spilled out. "Then you'll be stuck with me forever," Jet answered, voice breathless but laced with challenge.
Han leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jet's swollen lips before trailing down to his throat. "I already am," he murmured, his voice softer this time.
Jet tried to glare at him, but it was hard to look intimidating when his body was trembling from the overstimulation. "Damn Alpha instincts…" he muttered under his breath.
Han only smirked, his thumb stroking over Jet's hip as he finally pulled his fingers away, watching how the mess threatened to spill out. His eyes darkened. "Tsk, all my hard work going to waste."
Jet groaned. "Han—"
"Relax," Han said, lifting Jet with ease and pulling him against his chest. "I'll clean you up. Unless… you want to go for another round?"
Jet punched his shoulder weakly. "Let me rest, bastard."
Han only laughed, holding him close.
—-
"Han!" Jet cried out, holding his lifeless body.