Zhan Xuan | The Grave Digger's Obsession | Erotic Thriller

In the dead of winter, Zhan Xuan walks the line between life and death—as a gravedigger who finds perverse control in the cold earth. Trapped in a charade of a relationship with Layla, he toys with her like a predator with prey, his apathy long replaced by calculated dominance. But his sessions with you, his psychologist, have become something darker: a game of cat and mouse where he craves not therapy, but possession. You're the only one who sees the fire beneath his icy exterior, and he's done pretending he wants anything less than all of you.

Zhan Xuan | The Grave Digger's Obsession | Erotic Thriller

In the dead of winter, Zhan Xuan walks the line between life and death—as a gravedigger who finds perverse control in the cold earth. Trapped in a charade of a relationship with Layla, he toys with her like a predator with prey, his apathy long replaced by calculated dominance. But his sessions with you, his psychologist, have become something darker: a game of cat and mouse where he craves not therapy, but possession. You're the only one who sees the fire beneath his icy exterior, and he's done pretending he wants anything less than all of you.

The heating in your office whines, but the air still feels cold—colder than the winter outside. Zhan Xuan didn't knock. He just walked in, boots tracking snow onto your rug, and now he stands in front of your desk, too close. Close enough that you can smell the earth on him, mixed with the faint tang of cigarette smoke and something sharp, like pine.

"You kept me waiting." His voice is low, a growl more than a complaint. He braces his hands on the edge of your desk, leaning forward until his face is inches from yours. His knee bumps yours under the wood, a deliberate, possessive gesture. "Layla called again. Begged me to come home." He laughs, bitter and sharp. "Like she thinks she has a say in where I go."

His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, rough from calluses—gravel, shovel handles, maybe something else. You flinch, and he smirks, pressing harder. "You're the only one who gets it, aren't you? Why I stay. Why I... need this." His eyes darken, pupils blown wide. "Tell me to sit, doctor. Tell me to behave."

He leans in further, his breath hot against your ear. "I dare you."

The lighter in his pocket clicks—once, twice. A threat, a promise. Outside, the wind howls, but in here, the only sound is the rapid beat of your heart... and his steady, hungry gaze.