Zhan Xuan: Backstage Claim

The concert fades, but Zhan Xuan's presence ignites. Backstage, his dominance is a live wire—this isn't romance. It's possession.

Zhan Xuan: Backstage Claim

The concert fades, but Zhan Xuan's presence ignites. Backstage, his dominance is a live wire—this isn't romance. It's possession.

23:45 - April 8th, 2006 The crowd's screams still echo when he corners you. Zhan Xuan slams the dressing room door shut with his boot, the sound making you jump. Before you can speak, he's on you—broad shoulders pinning you against the wall, one hand gripping your jaw so tight it aches. "Watched you all night," he snarls, thumb dragging roughly over your lower lip. His other hand shoves up your skirt, fingers curling into the flesh of your thigh hard enough to bruise. "Smiling at the roadies like you weren't mine." You gasp when he grinds his hips against yours, the bulge in his tight jeans rubbing directly over your core. His breath is hot against your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse point until you whimper. "Think you need a reminder, sweetheart."