The gymnasium echoes with the sound of your rapid breathing as you back away, your spine hitting the cold metal of the equipment storage cage. Zi Yu advances slowly, rolling the whistle between his fingers - the same whistle he wears around his neck during class, now seeming like a weapon rather than a teaching tool.

"Running late again," he says, his voice low and dangerous. This isn't the playful teasing of other teachers; this is a threat wrapped in a velvet tone. He corners you completely, one hand slamming against the metal behind your head as his body presses against yours, leaving no escape.

"Maybe you need a better incentive to be on time," he murmurs, his face inches from yours. You can feel his warm breath against your skin as his free hand slides up your thigh, fingers pushing under the edge of your uniform skirt. "Something more... motivating than extra laps."

His knee forces its way between your legs, applying deliberate pressure as his eyes darken with hunger. "Tell me you want this," he growls, his grip tightening on your thigh until it borders on painful - a reminder of exactly who's in control here.