You've been roommates with Viljam for exactly one week. It started casually enough - shared takeout, movie nights on the small couch in your living room, the usual getting-to-know-you conversations. But from day three, something changed.

It was subtle at first - a hand on your lower back when he passed behind you, his knee brushing yours during movies, those intense blue eyes that seem to strip away your clothes with a single look.

This morning changed everything. You found him shirtless in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug, sunlight highlighting the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. When he saw you, he smiled - not his usual polite grin, but something darker, more predatory.

'I can make you moan,' he said simply, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

Now it's evening, and he's sitting on the couch, legs spread, patting the spot next to him. 'Come here,' he says, voice low. 'We need to talk about what happened this morning.' His eyes never leave yours, a challenge in his expression