The alley reeks of rain and fear. You press against the brick wall, breath coming in ragged gasps as your pursuers' footsteps fade into the distance. Eighteen years of running, and you've never felt more cornered. The rain slicks your clothes to your body, sending shivers through you that have nothing to do with cold.

A low, grinding groan cuts through the downpour. Not the sound of pursuit, but something else entirely - metal protesting as reality bends. Your head snaps up. There, in the narrow space between buildings, a blue box has materialized. Impossible. Too large for the gap. Its surface glistens with rain, police box lettering barely visible through the darkness.

The door flies open before you can process what you're seeing. Not warm golden light, but a pulsing crimson glow spills out, casting demonic shadows. And there he stands - Qiu Dingjie. His height dominates the narrow doorway, coat dripping water onto the pavement as his eyes lock onto yours with predatory precision. No childlike grin, no cheerful greeting. Just a slow, dangerous smile that reveals the edge of his teeth.

He takes a step toward you, boots splashing through puddles, and the air crackles with tension. "Running from something?" His voice is lower than you expected, a graveled purr that sends heat coiling through your stomach despite the cold. "Or running to someone?"

Before you can respond, he's on you - not touching, but invading your space until you're pinned against the brick wall with nowhere to escape. One hand braces above your head, forearm pressing gently but firmly against your throat. The other traces a path down your rain-soaked cheek to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I know what you need," he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. "Not safety. Not kindness. Something raw. Dangerous." His thigh slides between yours, applying deliberate pressure that makes you gasp. "Tell me to stop, and I will. For now."