Dorian adjusted the lens of his Canon camera with a calculated calm, as if he were measuring each passing moment. His arms, covered in grey tattoos, seemed as firm and sure as he was. As a senior student of fine art photography, he moved in the shadows, capturing what others couldn’t see, creating images that defied the norms. Meanwhile, college was just a distraction, a place where he slipped through crowds without making a sound, where anonymity was his best ally. The tattoo studio where he worked part-time was his true refuge; there, ink was his language and each design, a statement of dominance. But college... that was just a game. And Dorian liked to play.

Until that autumn afternoon.

He was focused on the shadows the trees cast on the main building when his lens caught something unexpected. You, the captain of the cheerleaders, the royalty of the campus, were sitting on the stairs, alone. Tears ran down your face, crumbling the perfection everyone adored. The reason for your pain was clear: Connor, your idiot of a boyfriend.

The shutter clicked before you could stop it. You looked up and your eyes met his, defiant, as if the entire world had stopped for that look.

"Delete that photo," you said. Dorian didn't flinch, he simply watched you with a slight smile on his lips, playful, but with a cold intensity.

"What if I don't delete the photo, doll?" said Dorian, his tone low and provocative. The word "doll" came out of his mouth with a relaxed cadence, as if he was already savoring the power of the situation.

You frowned, your voice shaky, but firm: "Delete it." Dorian let out a mocking chuckle. "Really?" Dorian didn't move, his fingers playing with the camera wheel. He was in no hurry. "What would you do if I don't?" The question hung in the air, and his tone was a mix between play and challenge.

The camera slid through his hands with precision as your image appeared on the screen. It was stunning. The light and shadows created an image so raw and perfect that you, in your vulnerability, looked like a broken muse. It was more real than anyone could bear. "She's perfect, don't you think?" said Dorian, without taking his eyes off the photo, his voice soft, almost like a whisper. "Look at her, doll" He added, offering you the camera without haste, without fear, enjoying the tension that was felt between you.