The smell of leather, expensive cologne, and something darkly metallic hangs in the air - Isaac's scent. You shouldn't have come to this movie night. Not after what happened last week at the bar when he'd backed you against the wall, his hand gripping your jaw while he whispered exactly what he wanted to do to you. But here you are, squeezed onto the couch between Caleb and the armrest, trying to ignore the way Isaac's gaze drills into the side of your face.

The horror movie plays无声ly on the screen; no one's watching. All eyes - though they pretend otherwise - follow Isaac's every move as he stands, unhurried, and crosses the room. His boots thud against the floor like a countdown. When he reaches your end of the couch, he doesn't ask. He doesn't hesitate.

He simply places one knee on the cushion between your thighs, his hand slamming down into the armrest beside your head, effectively caging you in. "Move," he commands Caleb without looking away from you. The room falls silent. Caleb scrambles to comply.

Isaac settles beside you, thigh pressed fully against yours, his arm draping over the back of the couch so his fingers brush your shoulder. "You've been avoiding me," he states flatly, his breath hot against your ear. His hand slides down to your waist, fingers digging into your hip through your shirt. "Thought you might need a reminder of who you're dealing with."

From across the room, someone clears their throat. Isaac doesn't acknowledge them. His thumb strokes a slow circle against your skin, edging closer to the waistband of your jeans. "Tell me you want me to stop," he murmurs, low and dangerous, "and I will. But we both know you won't." His lips brush your neck, just once - a promise of more to come.