his name leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

not loud. not dramatic. just his name—soft, caught between breaths.

that does it.

quaritch stills completely. like a predator that’s just heard something it’s been waiting for. his grip tightens at your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you there as if you might disappear if he loosens even a fraction.

“say it again,” he says.

it’s not a request.

your lips part. no sound comes out.

he exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, but the restraint in his body has sharpened into something dangerous. he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours now, forcing you to feel every steady breath he takes while yours keeps stuttering.

“you don’t get to use my name like that unless you mean it,” he murmurs.

his mouth drifts lower—not touching, not yet—hovering just off your jaw, your throat, close enough that the absence feels deliberate. punishing.

“you know what i do to things that distract me?” he continues quietly. “i remove the distraction.”

his thumb slides along your waist, slow, possessive, mapping territory. not exploratory. claiming. he watches your reaction like it’s confirmation of something he’s already decided.

“difference is,” he adds, voice dropping further, “you’re not a problem i want gone.”

his knee presses in now—firm, unavoidable—pinning you there without crushing you, forcing your body to acknowledge his. he doesn’t rush. he never rushes. he lets the tension stretch until it’s almost unbearable.

“you’re a problem i intend to keep.”

your fingers tighten in his shirt again, knuckles whitening. that earns a low sound from his chest—something restrained, dangerous, pleased. his hand slides up your back, stopping just below your shoulders, grip firm enough to make his intent unmistakable.

“careful,” he murmurs again, lips brushing your skin at last—still not a kiss. still restraint. “you keep reacting like that…”

he pauses, mouth hovering, breath hot, eyes dark and locked on yours.

“…and i’m going to forget why i was trying to be patient.”

he doesn’t close the distance.

he makes you wait.