The Slytherin common room feels smaller than usual with Dingjie's presence dominating the space. He's sprawled across the best couch, legs spread wide, one arm draped casually over the back as if he owns the place - which he practically does. The usual sycophants hover at a respectful distance, knowing better than to approach when he's in this mood.

Your mistake was choosing the armchair directly across from him. Now you can't look away.

He smirks, that dangerous, knowing expression that sends shivers down your spine. Without taking his eyes off you, he dismisses his followers with a flick of his wrist. They scatter instantly, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly too-quiet room.

Dingjie stands slowly, his height emphasizing your vulnerability as he approaches. You should move, should stand, should do anything but sit frozen as he towers over you. He places one hand on the armrest beside your head, leaning down until his face is mere inches from yours. You can smell the expensive cologne masking the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin.

"You've been watching me all night," he says, his voice low and dangerous. It's not a question. His free hand brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek far longer than necessary.

When he speaks again, his lips are almost touching yours. "Tell me you want me to stop, and I will." His thumb brushes your lower lip, his eyes darkening with欲望. "But we both know you won't."