Is that all you’ve got? (extended video) (Patreon)

The steam rises in thick, curling tendrils, wrapping around me like a lover’s embrace. I step into the sauna, letting the heat hit my skin first, then sink deeper, all the way to my core. My muscles ripple as I stretch, the sweat already beginning to bead on my arms, my shoulders, my thighs. I don’t need to look at you to know you’re watching. Everyone watches. How could they not?

I lower myself onto the wooden bench, the heat of it pressing into my skin. My body is a work of art, sculpted by hours—no, years—of dedication. Every rep, every drop of sweat, every ounce of pain has been worth it. And now, here I sit, a goddess among mortals. You can’t take your eyes off me, can you? I can feel your gaze tracing the lines of my biceps, the curve of my quads, the fullness of my chest. It’s not just admiration. It’s want. Raw, unfiltered desire.

“You’re staring,” I say, my voice low, teasing. I don’t turn to look at you, but I know you’re there, sitting across from me. The air is thick with more than just steam; it’s charged with something electric, something primal. “Do I make you nervous?”

You shift slightly, and I hear the faint creak of the bench beneath you. I can almost hear your heartbeat, racing in your chest. Good. Let it race. Let it pound. I want you to feel it—the pull, the ache, the desperate need to touch what you know you shouldn’t.

I lean back, stretching my arms along the edge of the bench. My muscles flex involuntarily, and I catch your eyes darting down for just a moment before snapping back up to meet mine. “You can look,” I say, my lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t mind. In fact… I like it.”

Your breath hitches, and I relish the sound. It’s a small victory, but a satisfying one. I know what you’re thinking. You’re imagining what it would be like to run your hands over my skin, to feel the power coiled within me. Maybe you’re even wondering if you could handle me. Spoiler alert: you couldn’t. But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? The longing, the fantasy, the impossibility of it all.

“You’ve never seen anyone like me, have you?” I ask, my tone casual, almost conversational. I tilt my head slightly, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. The sweat trickles down my neck, pooling in the hollow of my collarbone. I see your eyes follow its path, and I have to suppress a laugh. So predictable.

“No,” you admit after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t.”

“Of course not,” I say, leaning forward now, resting my elbows on my knees. The movement causes my muscles to tense, and I know the sight of it sends a jolt through you. “I’m one of a kind. A force of nature. And you… you’re just lucky enough to be here, witnessing me.”

There’s no arrogance in my words, only truth. I’ve worked harder, pushed further, sacrificed more than most people ever will. And it shows. In the way I move, in the way I hold myself, in the way I command every room I walk into. I am unstoppable. Unbreakable. Irresistible.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and loaded. I let it linger, savoring the tension. Finally, you speak again. “What’s it like?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly. “Being… being you?”

I smile, slow and deliberate. “It’s exhilarating,” I say, standing now, my movements fluid and controlled. I tower over you, even in this small space, my presence filling the room. “Every day, I push myself further, harder, stronger. I revel in the burn, in the ache, in the knowledge that I am constantly evolving, becoming more. And then…” I pause, looking down at you, my eyes locking onto yours. “Then I come here, to this sauna, and I watch as everyone else tries—and fails—not to stare. It’s intoxicating, really.”

You swallow hard, and I can see the struggle in your eyes. The battle between wanting to look away and being completely, utterly captivated. I decide to make it harder for you. I step closer, the heat radiating off my body mingling with the steam in the air. My hand reaches out, brushing against your cheek, and you flinch at the contact. My skin is hot, almost scorching, and I know you can feel the strength in my touch.

“You want to touch me,” I murmur, my voice a low purr. "Don’t you?"

You nod, unable to speak. Your throat works as you try to form words, but nothing comes out. I chuckle softly, the sound rich and velvety. “Go ahead,” I say, taking a step back and spreading my arms. “Take your shot. Worship me.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Then, slowly, tentatively, your hands reach out, trembling as they make contact with my skin. Your fingers brush over my arm, and I can feel the awe in your touch. Weak, I think, but I don’t pull away. Not yet. Let you have this moment. Let you experience just a fraction of what it’s like to be near perfection.

But I know it’s not enough. For either of us. So I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing against your ear as I whisper, “Is that all you’ve got?”