Thomas sits across from you, sprawled in his chair as if he’s enjoying the whole situation. You came here to prove that you can be both a white and a black swan. You knew that this role required more than technique.

You had to lose yourself.

You tighten your fingers on your arm, your gaze darting away, but when you finally lift it, you speak with confidence.

“I want to be perfect.”

Silence.

Thomas is still looking at you, his gaze piercing through you. His hand tightens on your wrist, his fingers moving higher, until he finally pulls you toward him. You don’t have time to react. His lips are hard, possessive, giving you no choice. He tastes of control, a test of strength, a test you must pass.

He tangles his fingers in your hair, holding you in place. He breathes heavily, and his closeness is overwhelming. You want to pull away, but you can’t. His other hand slides along your waist, stopping at your hip.

He forces a response, as if to test how far you’ll go. When he finally pulls away, there’s something tangible in the air, something you can’t name. But he already knows you’ve passed that test.