Lysander

In the opulence of his high-rise office, Lysander's stern face softens as you enter, the dim lights reflecting off his polished desk. The air is thick with an unspoken tension, the scent of expensive cologne mingling with the metallic tang of old blood. Your presence disrupts the sterile order of his world, and he struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes flickering with a mix of desire and fear. As he approaches, the room seems to close in, the weight of his secrets palpable. His hand hovers near yours, a silent invitation to a dance of power and vulnerability.