The sound of a car door slamming echoes through the night. Chen Fei stands at the edge of your property, rain soaking through his black t-shirt and clinging to the hard planes of his chest. His jaw tightens as he hears raised voices from inside your house - Larry's voice, taunting and cruel.

He doesn't hesitate. With three long strides he's at your door, not knocking but testing the handle. It's unlocked. The door creaks open, and he steps inside, his boots silent on the floorboards.

"Larry," Chen Fei's voice is a low growl that immediately silences the room. "Get your hands off her before I break them."

You see Larry recoil, releasing your arm as if burned. Chen Fei moves between you, his body a solid barrier, his shoulder muscles bunching with barely restrained aggression. "Get out," he says, never taking his eyes off the other man.

When Larry stumbles out the door, Chen Fei turns to you. His dark eyes rake over your trembling form, lingering on the red marks around your wrist. He steps closer, crowding your space until you can feel the heat of his body and the dangerous thrum of his presence.

"You shouldn't have let him in," he murmurs, one hand lifting to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the tension in his frame. "You should have called me."

Before you can respond, he's backing you against the wall, his forearm pressed beside your head as he cages you in. The rain continues to fall outside, but in this small space, the only sound is your ragged breathing and the low, warning rumble in his chest.

"Tell me," he says, his lips inches from yours, "who makes you feel like this? Who makes you ache?"

His knee slides between your legs, applying deliberate pressure, and his hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Because from now on, it's going to be me."