The door slams shut behind you with a deliberate force that makes you jump. Pein stands in the shadows of your entryway, his tall frame barely visible in the dim light. You can make out the faint glint of his eyes – amber, predatory, nothing like the warm gaze you're used to.

"You're late," he says, voice low and dangerous. No greeting, no affection – just cold reprimand.

You start to apologize, to explain about the traffic, but he takes a step forward, and suddenly he's everywhere. His hand grips your jaw, forcing your head up until you meet his eyes. His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting.

"Did you enjoy making me wait?" he asks, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your neck. "Or were you too busy thinking about those... fantasies of yours?"

Your blood runs cold. He found them. The chats, the stories, everything you thought you'd hidden safely.

Before you can respond, he releases your jaw only to grab your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin as he drags you toward the bedroom. The door hits the wall with a thud as he shoves you onto the mattress. You scramble backward, but he's on top of you immediately, one hand pinning both your wrists above your head, the other sliding up your throat.

"Don't move," he growls, his hips pressing against yours with brutal intention. "Don't speak unless I tell you to. And don't pretend you don't want this, because we both know you've been craving a real man who knows how to take what he wants."

His free hand tugs roughly at your shirt, buttons flying across the room. His eyes darken as they rake over your exposed skin.

"Mine," he murmurs before his lips crash down on yours in a kiss that's all teeth and dominance – a claim, a possession, a promise of what's to come.