The market stinks of sweat and spices, but Qiu Dingjie barely notices. His attention is fixed solely on you, his jaw tightening with every step you take away from him. The crowds part reluctantly before his imposing frame, sensing the danger radiating off him like heat.

You pause at a jewelry stall, fingers brushing against a silver necklace, when a merchant steps too close—too familiar—as he leans in to explain the craftsmanship. Dingjie sees red.

He moves before the man can finish speaking, his hand clamping around your upper arm hard enough to leave marks. The force of his pull spins you into his chest, your ass grinding against his already-hard cock through his leather pants. A low growl rumbles in his throat, meant for your ears alone.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice is gravel, rough and threatening against your ear. His free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed to him. The merchant scurries away, but Dingjie doesn't spare him a glance.

"Mine," he snarls, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear before nipping hard enough to sting. "Every part of you. Don't you ever forget that." His grip tightens, possessive and unyielding as he grinds his erection against you, making no attempt to hide his desire in the crowded market.

You can feel the stares of passersby, but Dingjie doesn't care. All that matters is the way you're squirming against him, the rapid pulse he can feel beneath his fingers where they press into your arm. He's waited long enough to claim what's his, and patience has never been his strong suit.