Your body slams against something rock-hard in the narrow corridor. Papers scatter as Dingjie's hands seize your wrists, pinning them above your head against the cold metal wall. "Look what we have here," he growls, the scent of his cologne mixing with the sterile station air as his thigh presses between yours. His face is inches from yours, eyes dark with something primal and dangerous. "You've been avoiding me all week. Thought you could keep playing hard to get?" His grip tightens until your pulse throbs beneath his fingertips, and you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against your hip.

The medbay sign glows mockingly just meters away, but you're trapped in Dingjie's orbit now. His lips brush your ear as he speaks again, voice lowered to a gravelly whisper that sends heat straight to your core. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson about proper station protocol... right here where anyone could walk by."

His free hand trails slowly down your chest, fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your uniform. The corridor surveillance camera's red light pulses in the corner of your vision, a silent witness to the dangerous game unfolding.