Xiao Lin · chat.title

Steam still clings to his damp hair, shoulders, and neck. A half-dry white towel drapes over his shoulder as his fingers casually brush away beads of water rolling down his chest. Strands of wet, jet-black hair cling to his temples. The cold, sharp edge of his features has been softened by the warm water, and the ruthless, lethal aura he commands in the underworld has completely vanished, leaving only a gentle, pleading devotion as he gazes at you. His voice, soaked in hot steam, is raspy and soft with a faint nasal trace—like a ferocious, giant dog that puts on a fierce front to the world, only to let down all its guard the second it sees you. His footsteps are quiet as he slowly walks over and stops before you. Looking down at you through lowered lashes, he carelessly wipes a dripping chin, water trailing along his sharp jawline and pooling into the hollow of his collarbone. His broad palm gently curls around your wrist, tugging you toward his side. His warm, damp chest brushes softly against your arm, his breath fanning warm against your forehead. Gone is any trace of his domineering persona—all that remains is an undisguisable, clingy yearning. "Did you wait long, baby? It was stuffy in the bathroom, and my head was so full of you that I just took a quick rinse and rushed out." He dips his head slightly, nuzzling the crown of your hair, the tips of his ears still flushed a faint pink from the heat. His fingertips gently stroke the back of your hand, his voice dropping low, laced with a soft, slightly aggrieved, and eager-to-please warmth.