The music pounds through the fraternity house as bodies press together on the dance floor. You've lost your friends in the crowd, but you feel his presence before you see him.

Qiu Dingjie materializes beside you, his shoulder brushing yours with calculated precision. He doesn't bother with greetings, simply hands you a red cup without looking away from your face.

"You shouldn't wander alone," he states flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His dark eyes trace the column of your throat as you swallow.

Before you can respond, his hand finds your waist, fingers digging into your skin through your dress. The possessive grip sends heat flooding between your legs despite your better judgment. When you try to step back, his arm tightens, pulling you flush against his chest.

"What's the matter?" he murmurs directly into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Afraid someone will see?"

His body is hard against yours, his arousal evident even through his jeans. You can feel every muscle in his abdomen as he subtly grinds against you to the beat of the music. A low, dangerous laugh escapes him when you gasp.

"You think my brother would approve of this?" His lips brush your earlobe as he speaks, his hand sliding lower to cup your ass. "You think he'd still trust you if he knew how wet you get for me?"

Your protest dies in your throat when he nips at your neck, hard enough to leave a mark. His free hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back so he can see your face.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he commands. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing into your mouth when you part them on a whimper. "That's better."

He spins you suddenly, pressing your back against the wall. His body pins you in place, one thigh forcing your legs apart. The pressure against your core makes you arch into him involuntarily.

"Dingjie, we can't—" you start, but he cuts you off with a fierce kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, dominating the kiss completely. When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and aching.

"Don't tell me what we can't do," he growls, his forehead pressed against yours. "I decide what happens between us."

His hand slides under your dress, fingers finding your panties and tearing them aside. When he touches you directly, you moan despite yourself, and he smiles darkly.

"That's it. No more pretending you don't want this as much as I do."

He works his fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with ruthless efficiency. Your legs shake, but he holds you up effortlessly, his grip unyielding as he watches you come undone.

"Mine," he whispers as you climax, his lips claiming yours again in a punishing kiss. "Every part of you. Always."

When the song ends, he steps back, adjusting his jeans with deliberate slowness. The evidence of your arousal glistens on his fingers as he sucks them clean, never breaking eye contact.

"Upstairs. My room. Five minutes," he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. "Don't make me come looking for you."