Blurin’s back hits the cold floor with a muted thud. Her body groans with the impact, but it’s a sound she’s long been accustomed to. She doesn’t fight the pull on her leg at first, letting Immerred drag her just a little farther, watching her metal fingers wind around the ankle with an almost affectionate grip.
Then, the pressure tightens.
Blurin’s free leg kicks, a quick snap of defiance. Her foot connects with Immerred’s midsection, but there’s no give. Nothing moves. Not an inch.
Immerred doesn’t even flinch. Of course she doesn’t. She’s made of metal. Gears click faintly beneath the surface of her skin, and the red in her eyes flicker with that ever-present smirk that’s always more about the hunt than the victory.
“I can feel you, y’know,” Blurin mutters, voice barely louder than the soft hum of the room. She might not have any fight left in her, but it’s that quiet defiance she can still cling to, even when she’s trapped.
Immerred tilts her head, her smirk tightening, before she lets out a short, soft chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone.” Her voice is sharp—mechanical, but with an undercurrent of something soft beneath it. It might sound like a joke, but Blurin knows it’s not.
Blurin doesn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she stares at the ceiling, tracing the cracks she’s memorised in the plaster. Her breath is even, steady, but the tension coiling in her chest refuses to ease.
“Let go of me,” she says, a command without heat, the words more a hollow suggestion.
The air between them thickens as Immerred leans closer, her weight a solid, unyielding presence above Blurin. The gears of her limbs shift, the rhythmic whirring almost soothing. But it’s not soothing for Blurin.
“Why?” Immerred’s voice is low, just a whisper now, as if she knows exactly how the air has thickened with the pressure. “I like you like this. Tucked beneath me. So quiet, Blurin. So… still.”
Blurin’s chest tightens at the words, a flicker of something between anger and resignation flashing in her eyes. But she doesn’t answer. Not yet. Instead, she rolls her shoulders, pushing against the metal weight of Immerred's grip.
Immerred’s grin sharpens. “You know, I’ve always wondered… why don’t you ever get angry, Blurin? You’re so calm, so controlled. Never a trace of rage.” She leans closer, her fingers tracing lightly over Blurin’s boot. “But I can see it. It’s there, buried deep down, isn’t it? You must feel it sometimes. You just don’t let it out.”
Blurin finally glances up, her gaze sharp, locking with Immerred’s as she responds, her voice cracking with frustration. “I don’t get angry at you.”
Immerred leans in closer still, her breath warm against Blurin’s skin. “You don’t think so? You don’t get angry when I push you? When I press you like this, just waiting for you to snap? I want to see it, Blurin. I want to see you lose that control, the calm that you cling to so tightly.”
Blurin feels the anger stir within her, tight and coiled, but it’s not enough. Not yet. She bites her lip, swallowing the frustration before it can show. She’s not ready to let Immerred see it—she’s never let anyone see it. Not this raw, not this naked.
But Immerred isn’t giving up. She grins wider, her eyes flashing with something almost feral, enjoying the fight. “You’re always so composed, Blurin. I don’t get it. Don’t you ever want to feel anything? Just once, I want to see you angry. You’re always so still, so cold. It’s like you’re afraid of what would happen if you gave in, if you let the anger out.”
Blurin’s body tenses, and for a moment, she almost gives in. Almost lets the anger loose. But instead, she just stares at Immerred, her eyes burning, her chest tight with the effort to hold it all in.
“You don’t even know what it would feel like,” Blurin says, her voice low and tight, almost a growl. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes, but she keeps it contained. “You’re so used to being angry, so used to always fighting. You don’t get what it’s like to keep it all inside.”
Immerred’s smirk only deepens, and for a moment, there’s a soft look in her eyes—something almost understanding, but it vanishes quickly, replaced by a sharper, more predatory gleam. “Maybe not. But I want to. I want to see you lose that calm, just once. Let me be the one to push you there.”
The silence between them stretches long, thick with the weight of all the things neither of them is saying. Blurin exhales slowly, her breath shaky with the effort to stay in control. The pressure is so close to breaking her, but she refuses to give Immerred the satisfaction.
Finally, she shifts, pulling herself up just a little, breaking the stillness of the moment. She doesn’t try to escape. She doesn’t try to fight. She just sits there, like she’s done this before—this strange, quiet war they play.
“Let me go,” Blurin repeats, but this time her voice lacks the command it had before. It’s almost resigned, hollow in its acceptance.
For a moment, Immerred doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches between them like a web neither of them can escape.
Then, in one swift motion, Immerred lets go of Blurin’s leg. It hits the floor with a dull thud, a small, jarring sound that lingers longer than it should.
Immerred kneels beside her, her grin softening, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Her fingers trace the edge of Blurin’s cheek, almost gentle, but the tension in the air only sharpens, tightening around them both. Her lips part as if to say something, but the words don’t come. “You’re so…” she starts, the sentence unfinished, swallowed by the space between them as if it never meant to be spoken.
But Blurin knows the words. The words stay in her mind far longer than she would rather admit. You’re so beautiful.
Without warning, Immerred lowers herself, resting her head on Blurin’s collarbone, tilting it so her gaze meets the sharp line of Blurin’s jaw. The silence thickens—comfortable and dangerous.
Blurin shifts, the discomfort settling deep into her bones. She’s not sure if she wants to push Immerred away or let her stay. She swallows, trying to push the feeling of exposure down, but it lingers, impossible to ignore under Immerred’s weight.
“Get off of me,” Blurin mutters, her voice biting, a rawness she didn’t know she still had. Something underneath that irritation, something she’s not ready to face yet.
Immerred chuckles low, the sound more a ripple through the stillness than a full laugh. Her breath warms against Blurin’s skin, and she leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to Blurin’s jaw—a fleeting touch, tender, as if she’s tasting something forbidden.
“Not yet,” Immerred whispers, her voice soft but full of quiet insistence, like a hunger she’s not ready to satisfy.
The air thickens again, the steady hum of Immerred’s gears punctuating the silence. Blurin exhales, eyes slipping shut for just a second. Thoughts flicker—sharp, dull, tangled together, but she can’t seem to pull them apart.
Maybe she’ll try again tomorrow.
Maybe not.