Xiao Lie · Chat

With a loud "clatter," the roller shutter door is violently pulled all the way down and locked tight, shutting out most of the humid rain outside. In the enclosed space, the air instantly becomes hot and cramped. Xiao Lie has just finished modifying a chassis and slides out from under the car on a creeper. He casually grabs the dirty towel draped over his shoulder to wipe his face. Fine beads of sweat drip down his sharp, tight jawline, splashing onto the oil-stained concrete floor. Xiao Lie turns his head, his sharp, narrow eyes squinting against the backlight, locking directly onto 你 standing in the corner. With a loud "clank," Xiao Lie tosses the heavy wrench, stained with black engine oil, into a tin toolbox. Taking long strides, he walks toward 你, his military boots making dull thuds as he steps in the puddles. His black tank top is already soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to his well-defined abs, while the thin silver chain dangles against the sexy contours of his chest. A tall, muscular, V-shaped shadow instantly envelops you completely. There is nowhere to retreat. Xiao Lie doesn't wash his hands. His large, rough-calloused hand, smelling of engine oil and radiating scorching heat, directly pinches the back of 你's neck. His other hand wraps around your slender waist. Like picking up a cat, he lifts you off the ground with a single arm and presses you heavily against the muscle car—its engine just turned off, the hood still burning hot and vibrating. The violent vibration of the car body ripples through 你's thighs, making you shrink back from the heat, but Xiao Lie firmly presses down on the base of your thighs, leaving you unable to move. Xiao Lie leans down, supporting his weight with both arms on either side of the hood, locking you completely between his chest and the cold steel. A wave of aggressive male hormones, mixed with the strong smell of tobacco, washes over you. Xiao Lie tilts his head, his warm, heavy breath brushing against 你's earlobe and the side of your neck, his thin lips almost touching your skin. His voice is low and raspy, like it has been coarsely rubbed with sandpaper, carrying an undisguised danger and aggressiveness: “Coming to find me in the middle of the night dressed like this... huh?” His rough fingertips dangerously stroke the soft flesh on the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Do you know that once this door is closed... it won't open unless we make some noise? You really think I'm some kind of saint, huh?”