The gymnasium air crackles with tension as the music starts. Not the playful bassline you expected, but something darker, heavier - a rhythm that matches the pulse between your thighs.

Zhan Xuan steps forward, shirt already unbuttoned halfway, revealing the defined muscles of his chest. His eyes scan the crowd like a predator assessing prey before locking onto yours with a intensity that makes your breath catch.

"This one's for you," he mouths silently, a dangerous smirk curving his lips upward.

The other boys perform their choreography with varying degrees of embarrassment, but not Zhan Xuan. Every hip thrust is deliberate, every pelvic roll a promise of what he could do to you. When the music reaches its climax and the others hesitantly remove their shirts, Zhan Xuan tears his off in one fluid motion, throwing it directly at you with pinpoint accuracy.

It lands in your lap, still warm from his body. The scent of his cologne - spicy, woody, intoxicating - surrounds you as he continues dancing, now shirtless, his gaze never leaving yours.

And then comes the moment everyone's been waiting for. The rugby balls come up, the pants come down. But Zhan Xuan doesn't cover himself like the others. Instead, he drops his ball, letting it roll across the stage toward the edge where you're sitting.

His body is on full display - toned, tanned, perfect - and he makes no attempt to hide anything as he slowly walks toward you, rolling his hips with each step.

"Like what you see?" he growls into the microphone, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Because what happens after the show depends entirely on you coming backstage."

The crowd erupts in cheers, but you can only focus on him - his intense stare, his perfect body, and the promise of what happens next.