Jet's hands slid up Han's shoulders, pushing him back toward the bed without breaking their kiss. Han barely had time to process before the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and Jet took control, guiding him down with surprising ease.
"You can't handle it," Jet smirked, throwing Han's own words back at him.
Han huffed a quiet laugh, letting Jet tug his shirt off, their bare skin pressing together. A shiver ran down Jet's spine at the contact, heat rolling off both of them. His fingers fumbled in urgency, unbuckling his own belt before reaching for Han's, but just as he thought he had the upper hand—
Han's grip tightened on his hips.
In one swift motion, he flipped them over.
Jet gasped as his back hit the mattress, his eyes blown wide with surprise. Han hovered over him, breath uneven, pupils darkened with something raw and consuming.
Then, the air changed.
Han's scent thickened, heat rolling off him in waves. It wrapped around Jet's senses, heavy, possessive, leaving no room for doubt—Han wasn't holding back anymore.
"Jet," Han murmured, voice low, a quiet warning.
Jet smirked, though weaker now, his cheeks flushed, his body arching slightly beneath him. "I thought—" he started, but his words caught when Han's hands slid down his sides, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat through him. "I thought I was supposed to be—"
Han leaned in, lips brushing against his ear. "Not this time."
A shiver wrecked through Jet, anticipation curling in his stomach.
Han kissed him again, deep and unyielding, stealing the last of his restraint. His hands roamed down, mapping every inch of skin, pressing Jet further into the mattress. Jet's breath hitched, fingers gripping Han's shoulders as their bodies moved together.
Then—Jet's breath stilled.
Han was inside him now, deeper than he thought possible, and the feeling made his entire body tense, his fingers digging into Han's back.
Jet gasped, his legs trembling, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His body clenched around Han, instinctively pulling him in.
"Shh," Han whispered, pressing a kiss to Jet's temple. "Relax, you can take it."
Jet's fingers curled into the sheets, his breath ragged. He wanted to argue—wanted to throw back some cocky remark—but then Han shifted slightly, and a strangled moan left Jet's lips instead.
Han chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "What happened to all that confidence?"
"Shut—ah—shut up," Jet managed, his voice shaky.
Han smirked, but he didn't tease further—not yet. Instead, his movements became deliberate, slow at first, easing Jet into the feeling before pressing in deeper. Jet gasped again, his body arching, hands flying up to cover his face.
But Han wasn't about to let that slide.
Han grabbed Jet's wrists, pinning them above his head.
"Don't hide from me," he murmured against Jet's lips before thrusting forward, hitting a spot that made Jet cry out.
Jet trembled, his entire body jerking at the sensation. His thighs clenched around Han's waist, locking him in place. "H-Han—"
Han smirked against Jet's skin, nipping at his collarbone. "That's the spot, huh?"
Jet was shaking now, completely undone, but Han wasn't done with him yet. He pulled out slightly before pushing back in, and this time, Jet's breath hitched in a way that sent a wicked idea through Han's mind.
Han shifted his weight, pressing his palm against Jet's lower stomach—right over where he could feel himself inside.
Jet choked on a moan, his entire body going stiff. "W-Wait—"
Han applied more pressure, smirking. "You're so strong, so muscular," he teased, voice low and taunting. "But you're weak for me, aren't you?"
Jet's face burned, his hands grabbing at Han's wrist, trying to push him away—but the moment Han pressed a little harder, Jet's body clenched around him, a whimper escaping his lips.
"Oh," Han grinned. "So that's what it is."
Jet wanted to die in that feeling.
His entire body betrayed him, shaking from the overwhelming sensation, his stomach tight with tension, his breath completely uneven.
Han could feel it—he could see it—Jet's body giving in to him, surrendering despite all his strength.
Han leaned down, kissing along Jet's jaw before murmuring, "You like it, don't you?"
Jet tried to glare, but the moment Han shifted, pressing just the right spot again, a sharp shudder wracked through him, and he bit down hard on his lip to hold back the sound threatening to escape. Han chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming as he traced slow, teasing circles over Jet's stomach.
"Don't even think about spilling a drop," Han warned, his palm pressing down slightly, ensuring every bit of his claim stayed deep inside.
Jet twitched violently, his thighs trembling, fingers curling into the sheets. His entire body screamed at him to move, to do something, but Han was relentless, keeping him pinned, making sure nothing was wasted.
"H-Han…" Jet's voice was weak, barely audible, his entire body burning from overstimulation.
Han leaned in, lips brushing against Jet's flushed ear. "You're keeping all of it, sweetheart."
Han chuckled, pressing one last kiss to Jet's lips before finally giving him what he needed.
Their movements became more desperate, more tangled. The heat between them burned higher, neither of them able to hold back anymore.
Jet's moans filled the room, his hands gripping onto Han as if he might disappear if he let go. Han buried his face in Jet's neck, his breath ragged against his skin, the world narrowing down to just the two of them, tangled in heat and longing.
By the time dawn crept through the curtains, Jet was a breathless mess beneath him. His body trembled with each ragged breath, his grip still tight around Han's wrist, as if even in sleep, he refused to let go.
Han watched him, taking in the way Jet's body shuddered slightly, still feeling the aftershocks. His hair was a mess, his skin flushed, and the dazed look in his eyes told Han that Jet had been thoroughly undone.
Yet, even now, Jet's fingers remained wrapped around Han's wrist.
As if afraid he might disappear.
Han exhaled slowly, brushing damp strands of hair from Jet's forehead. Jet made a small sound, too exhausted to move, but he leaned into Han's warmth, his body still responding instinctively.
Then—
"…Zhao Han," Jet mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
Han froze.
His heart stuttered. His breath caught in his throat.
And then his scent spiked.
It wasn't a conscious action—it was instinct, something deeper. His pheromones surged, wrapping around Jet's sleeping form in an almost desperate pull, as if claiming him all over again.
His heart stuttered in his chest, a name long forgotten resurfacing like a ghost from the past. It wasn't the name Jet should have called him—it wasn't a name Jet should even know.
And yet, in his haze, he had said it so naturally. As if it had always been there, buried deep in his soul.
Han stared at him for a long moment, his throat tightening. He wanted to ask. He wanted to shake Jet awake and demand why—how—he knew that name.
But Jet's breathing had already evened out, his body lax, completely spent.
Han exhaled, running a hand over his face. Whatever this was—whatever it meant—he would think about it later.
For now, he pulled the blanket over Jet's bare body, then settled beside him, allowing himself—for just a moment—to hold him close as the first light of morning crept into the room.