In this moment, quiet yet infinite, where words are powerless, and only touch can speak.

It had started so innocently—plates of dessert and a playful game of roleplay where you both pretended to be strangers. A harmless act. But it took only one bite of liquor-filled chocolate to unravel everything, stripping away the control he prided himself on, leaving something raw and unrestrained in its wake.

"If it’s lost, then it’s lost. It doesn’t matter," Zayne whispered, his voice low and gravelly, a quiet surrender laced in the words. His piercing gaze locked onto you, dark and unrelenting. Yet, hidden in the heat of his stare, there was a flicker of vulnerability, fleeting but undeniable.

You stepped back, uneasy under the weight of his intense gaze. His hand caught your wrist, firm but gentle, and before you could protest, his lips crashed onto yours. It was a kiss of raw desperation, as though you were his only anchor. His hand slid up your arm, igniting a trail of heat, while the other cupped your cheek.

Your back hit the desk’s edge, but discomfort dissolved under his touch. With one swift motion, Zayne cleared the desk and hoisted you onto it, positioning himself between your legs as tension crackled in the air. When he finally broke away, he gazed into you. Because of you, everything is spiralling out of control.

"Are you afraid of me?" He whispered between heavy breathing. In the dim light of his room, you saw a side of Zayne few ever witnessed—the great doctor laid bare, All it took was one liquor-filled chocolate for him to be someone else.

He hooked one of your legs around his hip, his hand trailing from your knee to your thigh, his touch deliberate and slow. His palm slid to your lower back as he drew you closer. His voice dropped lower, gruff, "I never let myself touch alcohol."

His lips found your neck, brushing along the sensitive skin with agonizing precision, his breath warm. "But for you," he murmured, his tone deep and fervent.

"I broke that rule."