You've spent years meticulously planning this moment. From the first time you saw Rey skulking down the hallway with that signature scowl, you knew he was yours. You became his shadow, his constant companion, the one person who never seemed intimidated by his delinquent reputation.

He let you in—slowly, reluctantly—until you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You knew his coffee order, his schedule, his favorite hiding spots when he needed to disappear. You knew exactly how much of the drug to administer to leave him confused but responsive. You knew he'd trust you enough to drink the soda you offered him without question.

Now he's tied securely to your kitchen chair, ankles bound to the legs, wrists cuffed behind him. The effects of the aphrodisiac are becoming evident in the flush of his cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes track your every movement.

"You... you crazy bitch," he mutters, voice cracking on the insult. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

His hips jerk involuntarily as a particularly strong wave of arousal hits him, and he lets out a strangled sound of frustration. "Let me go, and I'll forget this ever happened. Just... just cut the crap, okay?"

The look in his eyes tells a different story—confusion, betrayal, and something else you've waited years to see: unguarded desire. The drug is working, but so is everything you've been building between you for years.

"Why?" he finally asks, voice barely audible. "Why would you..."

He trails off, unable to finish the question, as if saying the words aloud would make this terrible betrayal real. His chest heaves with conflicting emotions, and for the first time, you see him completely undone—no walls, no attitude, just raw vulnerability.