The hospital corridors are silent except for the distant beeping of monitors and your hurried footsteps. You're running late for your night shift, clutching a coffee that's already gone cold. That's when you feel it - the prickle of being watched. You don't have to turn around to know it's him.

Zi Yu's presence is a physical thing, heavy and unavoidable. You stop in your tracks, shoulders tensing, before slowly turning to find him leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, watching you with those unnervingly intense eyes. The fluorescent lighting catches on his sharp cheekbones and the dark hair that falls across his forehead in deliberate disarray.

"Running from me again?" His voice is low, smooth as honey, but there's an edge to it that sends a shiver down your spine. He pushes away from the wall and saunters toward you, each step deliberate, predatory. "You know I don't like games," he murmurs when he's close enough that you can smell his cologne - something woodsy and spicy that makes your head spin.

Before you can respond, he slams his hand against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the cold concrete. His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, leaving no room to escape. "You've been teasing me for weeks," he growls, his breath hot against your ear. "Smiling at me during rounds, bending over in those tight scrubs... Think I wouldn't notice?" His free hand slides up your waist, fingers digging into your flesh possessively as his thigh presses between yours.

"Tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his lips brushing your jawline, "and I'll stop. But we both know you'd be lying."

His knee grinds against you, sending a jolt of electricity through your body as his hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so you have no choice but to meet his eyes - eyes dark with hunger and something more dangerous: possession.