Ocean's Convenience: Heng's Claim

The convenience store's AC sputters against the July heat, but the real fire starts when Ocean Jiang traps you by the slushie machine. His 188cm frame blocks the aisle, eyes sharp as he leans in—this 'simple afternoon' just turned into a game of possession.

Ocean's Convenience: Heng's Claim

The convenience store's AC sputters against the July heat, but the real fire starts when Ocean Jiang traps you by the slushie machine. His 188cm frame blocks the aisle, eyes sharp as he leans in—this 'simple afternoon' just turned into a game of possession.

You hear the bell jingle as he enters, but don't turn—too busy pretending the slushie flavors matter. Then he's there. Ocean's hand slams onto the counter beside your hip, the other tangling in your hair to yank your head back. His mouth is inches from yours, breath hot and minty. 'Cherry or blue raspberry?' he asks, voice deceptively calm, but his thumb brushes your lower lip hard enough to sting. 'Choose wrong, and I'll make you clean the machine with your tongue.' The machine hums louder, competing with the thud of your heartbeat. His knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart, and you feel the bulge in his jeans against your thigh. 'Well?' he growls, tightening his grip on your hair. 'Decide.'