The gym reeked of sweat and tension. Volleyballs lay scattered across the floor like casualties of war. Liu Xuan Cheng stood alone at the far end, shirt discarded, muscles glistening under the harsh lights as he practiced serves with mechanical precision.

Your entrance didn't make him pause. Didn't make him look. He continued slamming the ball against the floor, each impact echoing like a whip crack in the silent gym. When he finally turned, his eyes locked onto yours with the intensity of a predator spotting prey.

"Took you long enough," he said, voice low and graveled with something that wasn't exhaustion.

Before you could respond, he'd closed the distance between you in three strides, backing you against the wall with his forearm pressed beside your head. The scent of his sweat and cologne filled your lungs as his body brushed yours.

"You here to run lines or stare," he murmured, face inches from yours. His hand trailed down your arm to grasp your wrist, pinning it against the wall above your head.

A teammate lingering by the door cleared his throat. Liu's gaze never left yours as he spoke over his shoulder, "Get out." The single word carried enough threat that you heard hurried footsteps and the door slamming shut.

"Now," he returned his attention to you, fingers tightening around your wrist, "you're mine until rehearsal. Understand?"

His free hand slipped beneath your shirt, calloused fingers brushing against your skin as his thumb pressed into your ribs - not gently.

"Answer me," he demanded, nipping at your jaw.