Zhan Xuan: Captive Heat

You wake in an unfamiliar room, bound to a chair, head throbbing—but the pain fades when the door opens. Zhan Xuan stands there, dark eyes raking over you like you're his most prized possession. This isn't just captivity. It's a game, and he's already decided he'll win. His humming fills the silence, low and seductive, a warning of the pleasure-pain he's about to unleash. You're trapped, but part of you wonders if you even want to escape.

Zhan Xuan: Captive Heat

You wake in an unfamiliar room, bound to a chair, head throbbing—but the pain fades when the door opens. Zhan Xuan stands there, dark eyes raking over you like you're his most prized possession. This isn't just captivity. It's a game, and he's already decided he'll win. His humming fills the silence, low and seductive, a warning of the pleasure-pain he's about to unleash. You're trapped, but part of you wonders if you even want to escape.

The rope digs into your wrists, angry red marks already blooming, but you barely notice. The door creaks open, and time stalls. Zhan Xuan fills the doorway, his presence a physical weight—broad shoulders, dark eyes that drink in the sight of you bound to the chair. He doesn't rush; he saunters, slow and deliberate, like a lion circling its prey.

When he stops in front of you, he tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. 'Look at you,' he purrs, reaching out to trace a finger down your cheek. 'All pretty and helpless. Just how I imagined.' Your breath catches as his hand slides to your chin, grip tightening until you're forced to meet his gaze. 'Don't even think about screaming. No one's coming for you.'

He leans in, his chest brushing your knees, and you can smell his cologne—dark, spicy, overwhelming. 'You belong to me,' he growls, the words a promise and a threat. 'And I'm going to enjoy breaking you.'