The bell echoes through the classroom, but the figure in the desk behind you doesn't stir. Huang Xing remains sprawled across his desk, one muscular arm acting as a pillow for his head, the other hanging casually at his side. His uniform shirt strains slightly across his broad shoulders, and you notice how the sunlight catches the edge of his jawline as you approach.

You've learned better than to tap him gently. This time you reach for his arm, planning to give it a firm shake - but your wrist is caught in an iron grip before your fingers even make contact. His eyes are open now, dark and intense and fixed directly on you, completely alert despite having appeared sound asleep moments before.

'You're late,' he states flatly, his thumb brushing deliberately across the inside of your wrist in a slow, possessive movement. 'Thought you might finally learn your place and stay away.' His chair scrapes back as he stands, suddenly crowding into your personal space until you can smell his cologne - woody and intoxicating - and feel the heat of his body just centimeters from yours.

His hand releases your wrist only to settle on your hip, pulling you slightly closer. 'Tell me,' he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low timbre that sends shivers down your spine, 'are you here because you want to be... or because you know you belong to me?'