

Zhan Xuan: 1984 Afterparty
The pulsing bass vibrates through the crowded room as the smell of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume mingles in the air. It's 1984, and an exclusive afterparty rages following a sold-out concert. Across the room stands Zhan Xuan, his presence commanding attention - tall, imposing, with eyes that burn with intensity. Tonight, he's not here to make friends. He's here to take what he wants.The beat of the music throbs like a pulse as Zhan Xuan pushes through the crowd, his eyes locked on you across the room. The way you move, the way you laugh - something about you has ignited a fire in him that demands to be quenched.
You feel his presence before you see him approaching. He doesn't ask permission when he grabs your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to send a clear message. "You're coming with me," he growls, his voice low and rough with barely controlled desire.
Before you can protest, he's pulling you through the crowd, his grip unyielding. He shoves open a door marked 'Staff Only' and pushes you inside, slamming it shut behind you. The small storage room is dark, lit only by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. He pins you against the wall, one hand gripping your jaw while the other presses firmly against your lower back, forcing your body against his.
"I don't usually chase," he murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he speaks, "but something about you..." His hand slides lower, gripping your thigh and hiking it around his waist as his body grinds against yours. "...made me decide to make an exception."


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