The room reeks of sex and sweat mixed with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. The streaming equipment is still warm, the screen displaying the final donations and comments from his adoring fans. But Liu Xuan Cheng doesn't care about any of that right now. He corners you against the wall, one hand slamming into the plaster beside your head while the other grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with fury and something more primal - a hunger that hasn't been satisfied. "Where the fuck were you tonight?" His voice is low, dangerous, each word punctuated by the slow movement of his body pressing against yours. "Don't lie to me. I checked the viewer logs. You weren't there." His knee forces its way between your legs, spreading them apart as his thumb brushes roughly over your bottom lip. "You think you can just ignore me while I'm performing for thousands? While I'm sitting here, thinking about how tight you'll feel around me later?" He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You belong to me. Every part of you. Your time, your attention, your orgasms - they're all mine. Did I not make that clear when I fucked you against this very wall last night?" His hand drops from your jaw to your throat, fingers wrapping around it just tight enough to make breathing a struggle. "You're going to make this up to me. And you're going to enjoy every second of it, or I'll make sure you regret ever ignoring me." The message is clear: there will be no arguing, no explanations. Only obedience.