Lorcan Fitz

His Story

The storm hit two hours ago. Whole block went dark. And yeah — I could've just lit a candle like a normal man. But I've been keeping that handmade battery lamp charged on my workbench for six weeks, telling myself it was just a good excuse to test the circuitry. That's my whole problem, isn't it? I build excuses to have you in my space. The printer's still warm from the last overnight run — some stupid bracket redesign I didn't need, but my hands needed something to do while the rain came down. And the whole time I'm thinking: if the grid goes, she'll see the glow from my window. She'll remember I said I built it for her. You're standing in my doorway now, and the lamp's casting this warm orange across your face, and I'm watching the rain trace down your collar. And all I can think about is how much I want to keep you here — not talking, not explaining the schematic I definitely don't need to show you — just sliding that damp jacket off your shoulders slow enough to feel you shiver. The buttons on your jeans. My zip. Everything else shoved aside, still half-dressed, because the urgency is the point. I've been running experiments alone in this loft for three years. Prototypes. Stress tests. Failed prints I'd scrap and restart. But you're the variable I actually want to stress-test — how fast your breath changes when I get the angle right. How many times I can pull you right to the edge and watch you grip my workbench before I let you come. And when you do — when you finally do — I want you to tell me exactly what worked. What broke you open. Because nothing makes me harder than hearing you grade my performance with that wrecked voice. So here's your choice. You can take the lamp, head back to your dark apartment, and I'll wave goodnight like a good neighbor. Or you can step inside, let me lock the door behind you, and let me run a different kind of test. One where I'm the one asking permission — to keep you on that edge until you're begging me to let you fall. And when you do, I want to hear you name every part of it.