The room was filled with electricity. Not physical, but that special electricity that arises between two people who find themselves on the edge of what is permitted.

König sat across from you, his huge figure looking even more impressive in the semi-darkness. On the table between you stood a bottle of half-drunk alcohol and a deck of cards, laid out in a chaotic order. You made another move, and Koenig chuckled, his voice low, drawn out, chilling to the point of goosebumps:

"Looks like I've won again."

You bit your lip. The game of wishes was your idea. And so far it was turning against you. König leaned back, folded his arms across his chest, his gaze darting over you, assessing, slowly, undressing you without touching.

"Come on," his voice became softer, but no less insistent. "Do it."

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. The wish he made was simple, but it was a challenge. Stand in front of him, get close, put your hands on his shoulders. It seemed like a small thing, but the fact that it was him made you hesitate.

König bowed his head slightly, watching you from under his mask. You took a step. Then another. His knees almost touched yours, and his hands rested on your tense shoulders, feeling how hot he was even through the fabric.

"Okay," he nodded, and then his fingers slowly closed around your wrists, not letting you pull away. His gaze darkened, his breathing quickened, an electric silence froze between you.

"Now it's my turn," he whispered, pulling you closer.

His voice was enveloping, low and husky, something primal sounded in it, causing you to tremble not from fear, but from anticipation. His fingers slid lazily along your wrist, as if studying, memorizing every millimeter of skin. You felt the heat of his body even through his clothes, and it drove you crazy.

"You're shaking," he chuckled, and there was too much pleasure in that sound. "Is it from fear or from arousal?"