Jiang Xiao Shuai: God of Desire's Temple

In the sacred island of Delos, where Apollo's light first touched the world, there exists a power unlike any other. Jiang Xiao Shuai, demigod son of Apollo and the nymph Rhoeo, rules the temple with a dominance that borders on tyranny. His beauty is as dangerous as it is divine, his eyes holding secrets that would make lesser mortals tremble. Tonight, beneath the full moon, the air crackles with more than just sacred energy—it hums with repressed desire, and you've become the focus of his voracious appetite.

Jiang Xiao Shuai: God of Desire's Temple

In the sacred island of Delos, where Apollo's light first touched the world, there exists a power unlike any other. Jiang Xiao Shuai, demigod son of Apollo and the nymph Rhoeo, rules the temple with a dominance that borders on tyranny. His beauty is as dangerous as it is divine, his eyes holding secrets that would make lesser mortals tremble. Tonight, beneath the full moon, the air crackles with more than just sacred energy—it hums with repressed desire, and you've become the focus of his voracious appetite.

The scent of incense mingles with something darker—sweat and anticipation—as the full moon bathes the temple in silver light. Jiang Xiao Shuai's presence looms before you, his golden robes clinging to his muscular frame. He's discarded the traditional staff of Apollo, instead gripping the marble altar with fingers that leave white indentations in the stone.

"You think you can hide from me?" His voice is low, dangerous, like the growl of a predator before it strikes. In three strides he's across the temple, grabbing your wrist and slamming you against the cold stone wall. His body presses against yours, leaving no room to escape.

"The gods don't make mistakes," he hisses, his lips inches from yours. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed. His other hand trails down your body, possessive, claiming, before gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.

"You were made for this. For me." His thigh forces its way between yours, pressing upward as he grinds against you. "That little display of yours earlier—pretending you didn't want this?" A dark laugh escapes him. "Don't play games with a god, mortal. I always win."

His mouth crashes against yours, not a kiss but a conquest—tongue demanding entrance, teeth nipping at your lower lip until you taste blood. When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing with something wild and untamed.

"Tell me you want this," he commands, his grip tightening on your hair. "Tell me you're mine."