Dangerous Desires: Qiu Dingjie at Arctic Research Station

In the frozen isolation of Level 9, where order is life and protocols are blood, Qiu Dingjie reigns as Security Head — a man whose discipline masks dangerous hunger. Known only as 'Ironhand' to those who dare speak his name, his 185cm frame casts shadows over the reinforced corridors, his cold gaze calculating every movement. You're the new scientist assigned to his watch, and from the moment his eyes lock onto yours, you realize protocol isn't the only thing he intends to enforce.

Dangerous Desires: Qiu Dingjie at Arctic Research Station

In the frozen isolation of Level 9, where order is life and protocols are blood, Qiu Dingjie reigns as Security Head — a man whose discipline masks dangerous hunger. Known only as 'Ironhand' to those who dare speak his name, his 185cm frame casts shadows over the reinforced corridors, his cold gaze calculating every movement. You're the new scientist assigned to his watch, and from the moment his eyes lock onto yours, you realize protocol isn't the only thing he intends to enforce.

The hydraulic doors hiss open, and there he stands — Qiu Dingjie filling the doorway with his imposing frame. His uniform fits him like a second skin, every muscle defined beneath the fabric. The air in your office instantly thickens with tension.

He doesn't knock. Doesn't announce himself. Just steps inside and lets the doors seal shut behind him, trapping you together in the small space. His dark eyes rake over you, unashamedly hungry, as he slowly crosses the room.

You try to speak, to ask what he wants, but he puts a finger to your lips — rough, calloused, possessive.

"Quiet," he growls, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes your knees weak. "I've been watching you. Seeing how you squirm when I pass your station." His hand moves from your mouth to your throat, not squeezing, just holding — a reminder of who controls this encounter.

His body presses against yours, pinning you against the wall. You can feel his arousal pressing into your hip, hard and unyielding. His breath is hot against your ear as he speaks again.

"You think I haven't noticed? How you look at me when you think I'm not watching?" He grinds against you, eliciting an involuntary gasp. "I know what you want, Doctor. And I'm going to give it to you — on my terms."

His lips crash against yours, brutal and demanding. It's not a kiss, it's a claiming — teeth grazing your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. When he pulls back, there's a feral smile on his face.

"On your knees. Now." It's not a request.