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The alarm blared, sharp and grating, like nails dragged across a board. You cracked your eyes open to a thin slit, groaning as you stretched an arm out to silence it. Your body felt sluggish and clammy, every movement weighed down with exhaustion.
This was definitely not how you had planned to spend your day off, but working under the pouring rain yesterday had left its mark. Your body ached, heavy and uncooperative.
When you rolled onto your back, you found yourself panting softly, your eyelids weighted as though they were made of stone.
Half-lost to fever you caught the sound of footsteps moving through the room. Unease prickled. You didn’t remember inviting anyone into your apartment. Summoning what little strength you had, you tried to push yourself upright—only to feel a steady hand press gently against your shoulder, easing you down again.
“It’s me,” a low voice reassured.
You blinked up at the blurred figure, your mind sluggish, unable to piece the face together.
“It’s Zayne,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle slipping out as his knuckles brushed softly along your cheek. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
You leaned into his touch instinctively, “I don’t feel so good,” you murmured.
“I know,” Zayne said, his voice gentle. He tipped a glass of water toward your lips, coaxing you to swallow the pill he slipped inside. You obeyed sluggishly, swallowing the pill with difficulty. Once you managed, he guided you back against the pillows, his hand never leaving yours.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and in the fog of fever, the words wrapped around you.
Zayne pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before stepping back. You parted your lips to protest, only to falter when you saw him unbuttoning his shirt. Heat rushed to your face, and this time it wasn’t the fever. His hazel eyes caught yours, twinkling with quiet mirth, as though he knew exactly what effect he was having on you.
Before you could gather a response, he moved out of your line of sight. The mattress dipped behind you, and then his arms—strong yet achingly gentle—slipped around your body. He drew you close against his chest. His skin was cool, touched with the chill of his evol, and the contrast against your feverish heat sent a shudder of relief through you. A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it; the sensation was almost too good.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered at your ear, his breath tickling your skin and sending another shiver down your spine.
And despite yourself, your body obeyed.
***
The world blurred in and out, fragments of warmth and cool relief weaving together as sleep tugged you under. And when your eyes fluttered open again, you were still there—curled against Zayne’s chest, his hold firm and reassuring. The fever’s edge had dulled, leaving you clearer, though still hazy.
Zayne looked down at you, and even through the fog clouding your mind you caught the glint of mischief in his eyes. Zayne, always so controlled, so carefully restrained—yet now, uncharacteristically, he let a few buttons of your pajama shirt fall open.
The cool tip of his index finger traced slowly between your breasts, the faint frost of his evol sending a shiver rippling through you before sliding back up to your collarbone. Your body arched instinctively, breath catching in your throat. A faint grumble of protest escaped you, but it only made him laugh softly.
“You like that?” he teased, voice low.
Heat bloomed across your cheeks, and you nodded shyly, unable to meet his eyes. His finger dipped lower again, slipping beneath the fabric to circle lazily over the curve of your breast, his touch infuriatingly light, playful.
His hand slid from your chest to your jaw, tilting your chin up with practiced ease. The pressure was gentle but firm, just enough to part your lips for him. Then his mouth claimed yours—open, hungry. His tongue was cool, almost shockingly so, and the contrast made you gasp against him, overwhelmed by the flood of sensation.
“Zayne…” The plea tumbled out as he pulled back, leaving your lips tingling, your chest heaving. His eyes met yours, dark and unyielding, a haunting mix of hunger and control warring beneath the surface.
“Again,” you whispered, need lacing your voice.
Something in him broke then, his restraint cracking just enough to let him lean back in. His chilled tongue swept teasingly across your lips before diving in for another kiss, deeper, more consuming. One hand cupped your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt, kneading with a tenderness that contrasted the urgency of his mouth.
Your body betrayed you, hips shifting forward instinctively, brushing against him in a quiet plea of their own.
Your plea echoed between you, and Zayne answered with another kiss, deeper this time, his cool tongue exploring, drawing little whimpers from your throat. The heat of your fever clashed with his icy touch.
His hand lingered at your breast, thumb circling until the fabric did nothing to dull the sensation. Then he let his evol slip through his skin—frost seeping into his palm, chilling you just enough to soothe the feverish burn. You gasped into his mouth, arching into the touch, caught between relief and craving.
“You’re burning up,” he murmured against your lips, though his tone carried more hunger than worry. “Let me help.”
His fingers trailed downward, leaving a path of cool relief over your heated skin. Each stroke was measured, deliberate, the icy edge of his evol teasing at your senses.
You pressed closer, seeking him, the steady rise of need pushing past the remnants of fatigue.
Zayne groaned low in his chest as your hips shifted against his, his restraint slipping further.
The chill of Zayne’s evol slid along your overheated skin, cool fingers tracing every curve and hollow until your body shivered in a mix of pleasure and relief. You gasped against him, arching into his chest as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring hungrily while his hands mapped every inch of you.
“Feel better?” he murmured between kisses, voice low and teasing. The contrast of his icy touch against your fevered heat made every nerve stand alert, every breath shallow and sharp.
Your hands clutched at him instinctively, nails grazing the cold planes of his chest as your hips rolled lightly into his, seeking release. Zayne groaned, the sound vibrating against your lips, his ice-tipped fingers slipping under your pajama shirt again, circling and kneading gently.
“Zayne…” you breathed, voice trembling. Your body pressed harder, needing more, begging without words. He responded with a whisper, chilling and warm at once, his tongue slipping between your lips while his fingers teased and soothed in tandem.
Your body trembled, shivers of ice and fire mingling as Zayne held you close.
His cold fingers slipped beneath your shorts, teasing you slowly. Each icy stroke sent sparks of fire through your veins, the contrast between burn and frost making every nerve scream.
He murmured something unintelligible against your lips, a teasing promise, then dipped his fingers further, sliding inside you. They moved agonizingly slow, yet perfectly timed.
You trembled violently, hips bucking instinctively against him, needing release. “Zayne… I can't… I—” you stumbled over your words, breath hitching, mouth agape with soft, wordless moans spilling out.
He pressed you closer, as he whispered against your ear, low and calm, “Shh… just feel.” Your hips moved almost on their own, pressed against him, urging him.
Finally, with a cry that was half gasp, half moan, your body gave way, quivering violently against him.
Zayne held you steady, cool hand brushing over your fevered skin, his lips pressing softly to your temple as your trembling slowly faded into a heated, shivering calm. “There,” he murmured, voice rough with quiet satisfaction, “all better now?”
You melted against him, trembling softly, heat and cold mingling in your veins, utterly spent yet soothed, entirely enveloped in his arms.
He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, and you whined softly at the sudden loss when he straightened and stepped back.
Moments later, he returned carrying a fresh set of pajamas, a small towel dampened with warm water. With careful, tender movements, he cleaned your skin, helping you change into something comfortable. Every brush of his hands, every gentle touch made your heart skip a beat.
“Go back to sleep. I won’t leave you,” he murmured, his voice low and protective.
You let out a quiet chuckle, voice still husky from sleep and fever. “Dr. Zayne… your methods are quite unusual,” you teased softly.
He laughed, the sound warm and full of amusement. “Only for you,” he said, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead. Then he tucked you in, smoothing the covers over you with a careful hand.
Settled against the pillows, cocooned in warmth and his steady presence, you let your eyes flutter closed again, feeling safe, cherished, and completely cared for.
***
A few days later, you found yourself knocking on Zayne’s apartment door, a mischievous grin on your face, it seemed the tables had turned.
When he opened the door, his hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed, and his usual composure completely gone. He sniffled dramatically. “I… I think I’m dying,” he wheezed, clutching a blanket around his shoulders.
You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Oh really? And what, may I ask, caused this tragic illness?”
His eyes widened, and he pointed a trembling finger at you. “Your infectious charm!” - You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose it’s only fair I take care of you now.”
You let yourself in. “Karma’s a funny thing, Dr. Zayne. You kissed me while I was sick, and now you’re paying the price.”
He glanced at you, mock glaring but eyes twinkling, “I suppose… I deserved this.”
You grinned, shaking your head as he leaned back, wrapped in the blanket, feigning weakness but secretly enjoying every second of your care.