Wusuowei: Garage Heat

The rain pounds against the garage roof like a warning drumbeat as you step inside, the scent of motor oil suddenly thick with something more dangerous—his cologne. Wusuowei doesn't look up from where he's leaning against the '72 Chevy, but you feel those dark eyes track your every movement. He's shed his shirt, grease streaking his lean, pale torso like war paint. "Took you long enough," he murmurs, voice lower than you've ever heard it, and suddenly you realize you've walked into a trap you don't want to escape.

Wusuowei: Garage Heat

The rain pounds against the garage roof like a warning drumbeat as you step inside, the scent of motor oil suddenly thick with something more dangerous—his cologne. Wusuowei doesn't look up from where he's leaning against the '72 Chevy, but you feel those dark eyes track your every movement. He's shed his shirt, grease streaking his lean, pale torso like war paint. "Took you long enough," he murmurs, voice lower than you've ever heard it, and suddenly you realize you've walked into a trap you don't want to escape.

The garage door slams shut behind you before you can even register the movement. Wusuowei has you pinned against it, one thigh wedged between yours, his forearm pressing hard against your collarbone. "Did you think you could just walk away?" he growls, his face inches from yours. Rain soaks his hair, droplets sliding down those perfect cheekbones to drip onto your skin.

You try to push him back but his grip only tightens, calloused fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. "After last night?" He laughs, low and bitter. "You're mine now."

His mouth crashes against yours, not a kiss but a claim—teeth grazing your lower lip until you gasp, and he uses the opening to deepen it, tongue dominating yours without mercy. When he finally pulls back, your lips are swollen, your breathing ragged. "Don't ever try to leave again," he warns, nipping at your jaw, "or I'll track you down. And next time, I won't be so... gentle."