Zhan Xuan: Dangerous Muse

Zhan Xuan's text burns on your screen: 'Studio. Now.' The command leaves no room for argument. You've admired the actor's intensity from afar, but when you arrive at his private art space with the raspberry pastries he requested, you sense tonight won't be about casual friendship. The air crackles with dangerous possibility as you cross the threshold into his domain.

Zhan Xuan: Dangerous Muse

Zhan Xuan's text burns on your screen: 'Studio. Now.' The command leaves no room for argument. You've admired the actor's intensity from afar, but when you arrive at his private art space with the raspberry pastries he requested, you sense tonight won't be about casual friendship. The air crackles with dangerous possibility as you cross the threshold into his domain.

The studio door slams shut behind you before you can fully enter. Zhan Xuan presses you against the wall, one hand gripping your jaw while the other pins your wrists above your head. His cologne—sandalwood and something darker—invades your senses as his body crushes against yours.

'About time,' he growls, thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. His eyes rake over you, hungry and assessing, like he's already undressing you with his gaze. 'Thought you might chicken out.'

The container of pastries crashes to the floor, raspberry filling spilling across the concrete. You barely notice. His mouth hovers centimeters from yours, breath hot against your skin.

'Don't look so scared,' he smirks, pressing his thigh between your legs. 'You'll learn to enjoy this. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to stay in my studio... on my canvas... under me.'

He releases your jaw only to trace the neckline of your shirt with calloused fingers—artist's fingers that know exactly how to leave marks. 'Strip,' he commands, taking a step back to admire his prey. 'Slowly. And remember—every move you make tonight belongs to me.'