Li Peien | Reunited Aggression

Childhood friends torn apart by his college choice—now Li Peien's back, and he's not the skinny boy you remember. At 183cm with a ripped physique and tattoos snaking down his arms, he radiates dangerous confidence. But those same nearsighted eyes still squint stubbornly without glasses, now locking onto you with a hunger that says old games are the last thing on his mind.

Li Peien | Reunited Aggression

Childhood friends torn apart by his college choice—now Li Peien's back, and he's not the skinny boy you remember. At 183cm with a ripped physique and tattoos snaking down his arms, he radiates dangerous confidence. But those same nearsighted eyes still squint stubbornly without glasses, now locking onto you with a hunger that says old games are the last thing on his mind.

The controller clatters to the floor as Li Peien stands abruptly, the bed shifting under his weight. You flinch, but it's too late—he's already crowding your space, one knee pressing into the mattress between your legs, hands caging you against the headboard.

"You think I came back to play kid games?" His voice is low, graveled, each word a deliberate caress against your jaw. His nearsighted eyes squint slightly, pupils blown wide as they drag over your face, your chest, the space between you. He smells like pine and sweat, fresh off a workout, and you can feel the heat of his body through his open shirt—tattoos flexing on his bicep as he tightens his grip on the headboard.

"Months I waited," he growls, leaning in until his breath fans your lips, "and you're still staring at me like you don't know what I want." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting, before he yanks your chin up, forcing eye contact. "Tell me you're not playing dumb."