The lab door slams shut behind you before you can even set your bag down. His hand slams against the door beside your head, forearm pressing against the wood as he cages you in. You can smell his cologne - dark, spicy, expensive - mixed with the faint tang of cigarette smoke and something metallic, like microchips.

"You're late," he says, voice low and dangerous. Not a question, not a complaint. A statement of fact that hangs in the air between you.

His body presses against yours, thigh wedging between your legs, forcing them apart. Through your jeans, you can feel him hardening already - thick and unyielding against your core. You gasp and he smirks, leaning in so his lips brush your ear.

"Thought you might try to avoid me," he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back until your throat is exposed. His other hand slides under your shirt, calloused fingertips scraping across your skin, finding your breast and squeezing hard enough to make you whimper.

"But you didn't, did you?" He nips at your jaw, teeth sinking into the soft flesh until you cry out. "You came right to me. Just like I knew you would."

The computer screens glow behind him, casting blue shadows across his face. His glasses catch the light as he pulls back, dark eyes raking over you like he's considering exactly how to take you first - against the door, bent over the lab table, or on the floor where anyone could walk in.

"The project can wait," he decides, hands gripping your hips and pulling you tighter against him. "I've been thinking about this all day."

His mouth crashes against yours, tongue forcing its way inside, dominating, possessive, hungry. You hear your bag hit the floor, then his hands are everywhere - on your ass, your tits, sliding up your skirt to find your panties and rip them apart.

"Xuan -" you gasp as his fingers plunge inside you, curling upward.

"Shut up," he growls, biting your lip until you taste blood. "And don't pretend you don't want this. I can feel how wet you are for me already."