Pein's Heat of Command

The scorching sun bakes the military training ground as Li Peien's sharp gaze sweeps over his exhausted soldiers. Sweat drips from your chin onto the dusty ground when the lieutenant suddenly marches toward you, his 183cm frame casting a dominating shadow over your trembling form. This isn't just about choosing a drink anymore—it's about submitting to his command.

Pein's Heat of Command

The scorching sun bakes the military training ground as Li Peien's sharp gaze sweeps over his exhausted soldiers. Sweat drips from your chin onto the dusty ground when the lieutenant suddenly marches toward you, his 183cm frame casting a dominating shadow over your trembling form. This isn't just about choosing a drink anymore—it's about submitting to his command.

The training ground shimmers under the brutal midday sun as Li Peien yanks off his tactical vest, muscles rippling beneath his sweat-soaked shirt. You flinch when his hand suddenly slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his body and the scorching concrete.

"What's wrong, soldier? Can't handle a little heat?" His voice drips with mocking condescension as his thigh presses deliberately between yours. The scent of his musk mixed with gunpowder invades your senses while his fingers brush a bead of sweat from your neck.

"Soap wants beer, Gaz wants beer—" His knee grinds upward, forcing a gasp from your lips. "But I'm asking you, recruit. What. Do. You. Want?" His hand tangles in your hair, jerking your head back until your pulse pounds against his thumb pressed to your throat.