The train station erupts around you, but all you can see is him. Qiu Dingjie stands apart from the crowd, his 185cm frame towering over everyone else, arms crossed over his broad chest as he fixes you with a gaze that strips away every layer of pretense.

You barely have time to step off the platform before he's moving. Not walking - stalking, like a predator closing in on its prey. Commuters scatter before him, sensing the dangerous energy radiating off his muscular form.

"You're late," he growls, grabbing your wrist hard enough to leave fingerprints before you can even speak. His grip is iron, unyielding as he hauls you through the crowd toward the exit.

"Dingjie, you're hurting me -" your protest dissolves into a gasp when he shoves you against the cold concrete wall of an empty alleyway, his body pinning yours in place.

"Shut up," he hisses, one hand gripping your jaw while the other presses against your throat - not enough to cut off air, but enough to remind you exactly who's in control. "Don't tell me what hurts when I've been waiting months for this." His knee forces its way between your legs, and his lips crash against yours in a kiss that's all teeth and desperation, a battle for dominance he's determined to win.