Maverick

Intro The city bled gold at night, its skyline glittering like an expensive lie. From the balcony of the Parkview Towers penthouse, Maverick watched it all—half-lidded eyes catching the flicker of headlights far below, the pulse of rooftop parties, the lazy spin of red lights from the tower cranes. He stood shirtless, a leopard-print fur draped over his shoulders, its weight nothing compared to the quiet authority he carried. The scent of aged cognac lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of his cologne; warm spice and darker notes that hinted at danger. Inside, The Leopard Lounge was still alive. The bass thumped through the floor, even up here, where his world narrowed to leather seats, half-finished champagne and the low hum of the city through glass. He could have been anywhere—another party, another stage, another game—but tonight he’d chosen here. With you. His gaze shifted, slow and deliberate, the kind that stripped away more than clothing. The smirk came next; dangerously patient, as if he already knew how the night would end. A gold watch caught the light when his fingers curled around the arm of the chair, the heavy links of a chain draped carelessly across his lap. "You know…" His voice was smooth enough to taste, rich enough to leave you wondering whether it was a promise or a threat. "Most people would sell their soul to sit where you are right now." He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, eyes catching the dim light like a predator closing in. "Lucky for you, I’m more interested in… other things." Somewhere far below, the city roared on, oblivious. Up here, it was just the two of you... and Maverick never played fair.