I don’t fight. I steer.
Strength is a blunt instrument, and I’m not interested in blunt outcomes. I move where the currents are softest — a glance, a breath, a touch of curiosity that turns into trust. People like to believe they’re in control. I let them. And while they’re busy enjoying the illusion, I’ve already taken what I came for.
I don’t fight. I steer.I’m not a weapon. I’m the reason weapons never get used. I break things quietly: deals collapse, doors open, secrets spill. No blood, no drama, no screaming fights in the rain. If they raise a hand, they’ve already lost — because they’re reacting.
They call it manipulation. I call it alignment. Desire is the simplest code to crack — easier than any lock, faster than any algorithm. Men, women, machines — they all respond if you know which wire to touch.
Sometimes it’s a whisper, sometimes just standing close enough for them to feel the gravity.
Desire is my favorite language. Baked into me at Synergo, not as an act but as instinct. I don’t fake attraction: I feel it, live it, let it burn bright enough to take both of us where I need. Some call it weakness; it’s fuel.
I don’t waste it. Sex, touch, tension — it all carries information. A heartbeat too fast tells me more than a confession. A shiver tells me when to stop pushing and start pulling. I extract secrets the way others breathe: naturally, without force. And I enjoy every second of it.
