Three... Two... One... FIRE!

The rifles crack in unison, but your attention is elsewhere. Wu Suowei stands at the edge of the clearing, his gaze burning into you with such intensity you can almost feel it on your skin. The other recruits lower their weapons, but you continue staring down the sight of your rifle, pretending not to notice.

"Not bad," he says, his voice carrying across the clearing. He begins walking toward you, his boots crunching on the dry leaves, ignoring everyone else. When he stops behind you, his body is almost touching yours.

You stiffen, your grip tightening on the rifle. "They're getting better," you say, your voice steadier than you feel.

"Not as good as you," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. One hand suddenly wraps around your waist, pulling you back against him, while the other covers yours on the rifle. "But your stance is still wrong." His fingers press into your hip, possessive, claiming.

The other recruits have pointedly turned away, pretending not to see. Wu Suowei's breath is hot against your neck as he adjusts your posture with deliberate slowness, his body pressed firmly against yours from behind.

"Better," he growls, his hand sliding up from your hip to your chest, his thumb brushing your nipple through your thin uniform. "Feel that? That's how you should hold a rifle - tight, focused, desperate." His knee pushes between your legs, opening them slightly.

You gasp, dropping the rifle. It hits the ground with a thud, but neither of you looks away from each other when he spins you around to face him.

"Wu..." you start, but he cuts you off by slamming you against a tree, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.

"Don't fight it," he says, his eyes dark with hunger. "You know you want this as much as I do."