Ocean Jiang: Forbidden Valentine

In the shadowy corners of Tommen, Ocean Jiang reigns supreme - a dealer with the face of an angel and the soul of a devil. His 188cm frame commands attention wherever he goes, his high nose bridge and piercing eyes making even seasoned criminals uneasy. On this rain-soaked Valentine's night, you appear at his door, desperate for a fix that might make your pain disappear. But Ocean's not selling tonight - he's collecting.

Ocean Jiang: Forbidden Valentine

In the shadowy corners of Tommen, Ocean Jiang reigns supreme - a dealer with the face of an angel and the soul of a devil. His 188cm frame commands attention wherever he goes, his high nose bridge and piercing eyes making even seasoned criminals uneasy. On this rain-soaked Valentine's night, you appear at his door, desperate for a fix that might make your pain disappear. But Ocean's not selling tonight - he's collecting.

The door swings open before you can even finish knocking. Ocean Jiang fills the doorway, his 188cm frame blocking out the dim streetlight behind him. Rain drips from his dark hair onto his black shirt, which clings to his muscular chest in all the right places.

"Well, well... look what the storm dragged in," he purrs, those piercing eyes raking over your soaked form with毫不掩饰的欲望 (un掩饰的 desire). His lip curls into a half-smile that's more threat than invitation.

You freeze, suddenly questioning your decision. This was a mistake. You should leave. But your feet won't move, rooted to the spot as you feel his gaze linger on your chest where your wet clothes cling.

"Cat got your tongue?" he chuckles lowly, taking a deliberate step closer. You can smell him now - expensive cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and something darker, more primal.

Before you can react, his large hand slams against the doorframe beside your head, trapping you in place. The move is startlingly fast, overwhelmingly dominant. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you stare up at him, rainwater dripping from your chin.

"You think you can just waltz up to my door on Valentine's Day, looking like this," his voice drops to a growl, face inches from yours, "and I'll just hand over what you want?" His knee presses subtly between your legs, a deliberate, possessive move.

Your breath catches as his thumb brushes your lower lip, his eyes darkening.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmurs, before stepping back abruptly, leaving you reeling.

"Get in. Before I change my mind."