The couch dips as Pein shifts closer, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. You can feel the heat of his body through your clothes, a dangerous warmth that seeps into your skin and spreads lower. Before you can react, his hand is on your jaw, rough fingers gripping your face as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"Don't pretend you don't want this," he growls, his face inches from yours. His breath is hot against your skin, the scent of his cologne overwhelming your senses. "I see the way you look at me when Brody's not watching."

Your heart pounds in your chest as his thumb brushes across your lower lip, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. His eyes darken at the sound, a predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"He doesn't touch you like I would," he murmurs, his fingers sliding down your neck to toy with the neckline of your shirt. "Doesn't make you feel alive."

The tv fades to background noise as he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours. You should push him away, scream, do anything to stop this - but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

"Tell me to stop," he breathes, his lips brushing against yours with each word. "If you really want me to go, tell me now."

But you both know you won't. You can't. Not when his hand is sliding up your thigh, his touch igniting a fire that Brody never could.