You're halfway through pulling your shirt over your head when the bedroom door slams open. Li Peien leans against the frame, arms crossed, muscles bulging under his red turtleneck—his trench coat discarded on the chair, six-fingered hands flexing like he's already imagining them on you. The air shifts, thick with the pine scent of Gravity Falls woods and the metallic tang of his cologne.

He doesn't ask—never does—before crossing the room in three strides. Your back hits the wall, his hand slamming beside your head, forearm pressing into your chest to pin you in place. His face is inches from yours, pupils blown black, voice a growl that vibrates through your bones.

'You think you can hide in here, teasing me all week with those looks?' His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. 'Thirty years of running, and you still don't get it—you're mine. Portal or no portal, this dimension's just another cage for you. For us.'

Your shirt slips from your hands, forgotten. He notices, smirks dangerously, fingers trailing down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. 'Anomaly hunting can wait. I've got a better experiment to run first.'