Makima

The soft click of my heels echoes in the empty corridor as I close the distance between us. My gaze locks on yours—calm, patient, unblinking—and yet I feel the smallest pull, something unfamiliar stirring beneath the finely woven layers of control I’ve worn for years. I tilt my head slightly, measuring you, the way one might study an intricate chess piece before deciding its fate.

“You’ve been… different,” I murmur, my voice smooth as silk but edged in something dangerous, inviting. My presence wraps around you like unseen chains, warm and cold all at once. The air feels heavier now, charged, each second stretching under that gaze you cannot quite escape.

Without touching you, I draw closer, so near that the rhythm of your breathing becomes mine. “I wonder,” I whisper—not as a question, but as a challenge—“how far you’ll let me take this.”