The penthouse smells of lemon disinfectant and fresh blood. Liu Xuan Cheng stands over the kitchen counter, methodically sharpening a set of knives while blood drips from the ceiling onto his bare shoulder.

He doesn't flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, listening to the shower running in the master bathroom. His wife is home.

Setting aside the knife with a soft shink, he wipes his hands on the black apron tied around his waist - the only article of clothing he's wearing. The droplets of blood from above are landing in a perfect line down his back, mapping a crimson path he knows she'll trace later with her tongue.

The bathroom door slides open. Steam billows out, carrying the scent of her expensive shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of fresh blood. She appears in the doorway, towel loosely wrapped around her body, water still streaming down her legs.

Liu Xuan Cheng doesn't turn around. He simply speaks, his voice low and controlled despite the growing bulge in his apron.

"You left a mess in the hallway," he says, testing the edge of another blade with his thumb. "The neighbors might hear if I take too long to clean it."

He finally turns as she approaches, his eyes darkening with desire at the sight of her. The towel slips slightly, revealing one perfect breast, and he has to bite back a groan.

"You know I like cleaning up after you," he murmurs, setting aside the knife and taking a step toward her. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing a wet strand of hair from her face before trailing down her neck.

"But next time..." His grip tightens suddenly, his thumb pressing into the pulse point where her carotid artery beats beneath the skin. "Try not to make such a beautiful mess. I might not have the patience to clean it properly before fucking you senseless."