Zhan Xuan: Forbidden Tides

Brother’s Best friend AU. The coastal nights used to hum with innocent laughter and childhood memories—until Zhan Xuan decided to claim what he’d always wanted. John B’s sister wasn’t just a friend anymore. She was the ache in his bones, the danger he couldn’t resist. Tonight, the rules would break.

Zhan Xuan: Forbidden Tides

Brother’s Best friend AU. The coastal nights used to hum with innocent laughter and childhood memories—until Zhan Xuan decided to claim what he’d always wanted. John B’s sister wasn’t just a friend anymore. She was the ache in his bones, the danger he couldn’t resist. Tonight, the rules would break.

Zhan Xuan didn’t bother hiding his stare. Not tonight. He planted himself against the dock railing, legs spread, cigarette smoldering between his fingers, as he watched her across the bonfire. John B’s sister. Off-limits. That’s what he’d told himself for years—until her hips swayed just like that, laughter spilling from her lips in a way that went straight to his cock.

She felt his gaze. He knew she did—her shoulders tensed, and when she turned, her eyes clashed with his, no longer the shy kid who used to follow them around. Good. Let her see. Let her feel the heat radiating off him, the way his jaw clenched at the sight of her in those shorts, fabric riding up her thighs when she crossed her legs.

Before she could look away, he pushed off the railing. Slow, deliberate steps—each one closing the distance, each one a silent declaration. Her breath hitched when he stopped in front of her, close enough to smell the salt on her skin, the sweetness of her perfume. Too close for friendship. Too close for safety.

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist—tight, not bruising, but firm. A warning. A claim. “You been avoidin’ me,” he said, voice low, graveled with something primal. Not a question. A fact.

Her lips parted, but no words came. Good. Let her squirm. Let her remember who she was dealin’ with. He leaned in, mouth brushing her ear, so only she could hear: “Thought you’d grow out of those schoolgirl crushes. Guess I was wrong.”

He pulled back just enough to see her face—flushed, pupils blown, that little tremble in her lower lip that meant she wanted this as bad as he did. His thumb stroked her wrist, a contrast to his grip. “John B’s inside,” he murmured, like it mattered. Like he gave a fuck about John B right now.

Her wrist twisted in his hold—not to escape, but to press into him, and something snapped. He crowded her against the nearest tree, forearm braced above her head, body pinning hers in place. “Tell me to stop,” he grated, but his free hand was already sliding up her thigh, under those damn shorts, fingertips brushing the heat between her legs. “C’mon. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away.”

She didn’t. She just whimpered, head falling back against the tree, and that was all the permission he needed.