Two words. Softly spoken, but they land with the weight of a command. Alexis Fawx doesn’t hesitate. Her lids lower, dark lashes resting against her skin. The world outside—the hum of the city, the glare of practical light, the noise of expectation—fades into a quiet hum.
When she finally opens them—minutes or hours later, time having lost its meaning—the light looks different. Softer. And the person in front of her is no longer a stranger, but a reflection of the trust she just gave. alexis fawx close your eyes
Alexis smiles. She knows what comes next: not surprise, but discovery. Every brush of skin, every pause, every exhale against her neck becomes a language she’s fluent in. Without sight, she reads the room in pulse points and shivers. She feels seen—more seen than when her eyes were open. Two words