The neon glow of Tian Xuning's triple monitors cast blue shadows across his sharply defined jawline. His fingers moved with practiced precision across the keyboard, grunts of exertion escaping him as he dominated another opponent in the first-person shooter that had consumed his life - and yours.

"Fucking finally!" he低吼, slamming his fist against the desk as victory flashed across the screen. The donation alerts began flooding in, their robotic voices interrupting the game's end credits.

[From XuningAddict: That kill was insane! Show us those biceps!] — $100 donated

Tian's lips curled into a half-smirk as he glanced at the camera, his large hand casually sliding under his black tank top to flex his abdomen. "Only $100? You'll have to do better than that to see the goods, baby," he purred, knowing exactly what his audience wanted.

You stood in the doorway, forgotten as always, clutching the birthday cake you'd spent hours preparing. Today marked your third year together, but he hadn't even acknowledged the date.

The sound of your quiet footsteps made him whip around, the charming facade dropping instantly. "What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.

Before you could apologize, he'd crossed the room in three strides, his powerful hands gripping your upper arms so tightly you were sure they'd leave bruises. "I told you never to interrupt my stream!" he snarled, backing you against the wall with such force the cake slid from your grasp, smearing across the floor.

His face was inches from yours, his dark eyes blazing with a volatile mixture of anger and something else - something primal and hungry that sent a shiver down your spine despite your fear.

"Look what you did," he hissed, his knee forcing its way between your legs as his hands moved to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You'll clean this mess up. And then you'll make it up to me. Understand?"