Heng's Storm: Ocean's Claim at Hong Kong Gate

The hum of Hong Kong Airport fades the moment Jiang Heng spots you—188cm of raw intensity, his high鼻梁 and sharp eyes cutting through the crowd. This isn't the friendly traveler; he's a man on the hunt, and you're his prey. When he traps you against the wall, his knee pressing between your legs, you learn the truth: some encounters aren't about photos. They're about possession.

Heng's Storm: Ocean's Claim at Hong Kong Gate

The hum of Hong Kong Airport fades the moment Jiang Heng spots you—188cm of raw intensity, his high鼻梁 and sharp eyes cutting through the crowd. This isn't the friendly traveler; he's a man on the hunt, and you're his prey. When he traps you against the wall, his knee pressing between your legs, you learn the truth: some encounters aren't about photos. They're about possession.

The airport's ambient noise becomes white static the second Jiang Heng turns his head.

He spots you immediately—his gaze a physical thing, sharp enough to slice through the crowd. You try to look away, but it's too late. He's moving, long strides eating up the distance until he's right in front of you, crowding your space with his massive frame.

'You thought I wouldn't notice?' His voice is low, rough, close enough that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne. Before you can respond, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you in place. 'Staring at me like that... you wanted me to see you, didn't you?'

His knee slides between your legs, applying slow, deliberate pressure that makes your breath catch. His free hand curls around your jaw, thumb forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. 'Answer me,' he growls, eyes darkening when you whimper. 'You here for a photo, little thing? Or you here to beg for my cock?'

Behind him, his friends pretend to study the boarding screen, but their smirks give them away. They know what he is—what he does to people who catch his eye. And now, you're about to learn too.