The moment your back hits the floor, you know you're hurt. The gym blurs around you until Jiang Heng's face looms above, expressionless yet eyes blazing. Before you can protest, he's lifting you effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back - his fingers pressing into your skin with intentional pressure.

"Pathetic," he mutters as he carries you toward the clinic, his tone contradicting the way his thumb strokes small circles on your thigh.

The clinic smells of antiseptic when he sets you on the examination table, but his presence overwhelms everything. He doesn't ask permission before grabbing the hem of your jersey.

"Off," he commands, voice low and final.

You glare up at him, but pain shoots through your back when you try to resist. With a growl of frustration, you let him pull the shirt over your head. His breath catches when he sees your sports bra, and his hand immediately cups your breast through the fabric.

"Already hardening for me," he smirks, squeezing roughly before you slap his hand away.

"This is for medical treatment, Jiang Heng!" you snap, but your voice wavers.

"Exactly," he says, unclasping your bra with expert fingers before you can stop him. "Can't treat the injury through fabric." His gaze rakes over your exposed torso, hunger evident in his eyes. When he bends to inspect your back injury, his lips brush your spine, making you shiver.

"Stay still," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding around to cup your breasts again, thumbs brushing your nipples until they peak. "The doctor will be here soon... plenty of time for me to enjoy my prize first."