The Chains That Bind - MLM (John Kramer X M!Reader)

Chapter 14: The Turning Point

The nights grew longer, and the atmosphere in the warehouse seemed to thicken with unspoken tension. You couldn't quite pinpoint when the dynamic between you and John had begun to shift, but it was happening, and you felt it deep in your bones. The test subjects came and went, leaving behind trails of blood and fear, but something else was taking root in the quiet moments you shared with John.

You still carried out your tasks with precision-setting traps, observing the victims, and managing the intricate mechanics of each game. But now, there was an undercurrent to every interaction you had with him. It was subtle at first: a hand lingering a little too long on your shoulder, a brush of fingers against your arm. Each touch seemed to hold more meaning, and the weight of his gaze became something you couldn't ignore.

John had always been calm and collected, his demeanor unshaken by the chaos around him. But now, when you were close, there was a shift. He was still John Kramer-unwavering, meticulous, and in control-but there was something softer in the way he touched you. His hand would sometimes slide to the small of your back when you walked beside him, a guiding gesture that sent shivers through you. He never said anything about it, but the warmth of his palm lingered long after he pulled away.

Amanda noticed. Hoffman pretended not to care, but Amanda-her sharp eyes tracked every interaction. She had stopped making snide comments directly to you, but her presence still crackled with jealousy whenever you were around John. Her tension, though palpable, had become background noise to you. You were more focused on the growing connection between you and John, even if it was still undefined.

Tonight, the tension was different. There was no game in progress, no blood on the floor-just the low hum of the warehouse and the feeling that something was about to change. You found yourself in John's workspace again, standing beside him as he examined a new set of blueprints. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls, and you could feel his presence close to you-too close.

Your eyes flicked to the blueprints, trying to focus on the intricate design of the next trap, but you couldn't stop thinking about how near he was. Every breath you took seemed to sync with his, every slight movement catching your attention.

"You seem distracted," John said, his voice calm, but with an edge of curiosity.

You blinked, realizing you hadn't heard a word he'd said. "Sorry," you murmured, your voice quieter than usual. "I'm listening."

John studied you for a moment, his gaze piercing, as though he could see straight through you. "Are you?" His voice was soft, almost teasing, and before you could answer, his hand came to rest on your lower back, just above your waistband. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making it hard to breathe for a second.

"I am," you managed to reply, though your voice felt weaker than you intended. His hand remained where it was, the warmth of it seeping through your clothes, grounding you and unnerving you all at once.

"Good," he said simply, as though there was nothing unusual about the way his fingers lightly grazed your hip, his touch lingering in a way that made your pulse quicken.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow down. The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of paper as John adjusted the blueprint, but you could feel the tension thickening with every passing second. You shifted slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand, but when you moved, so did John. His hand slid across the small of your back, guiding you gently as he stepped closer.

"I need you," John said quietly, his breath warm against your ear. "to be ready.Things are going to change soon. The police are closing in."

You nodded, but your mind wasn't on the police or the games. It was on the way his hand lingered on your waist, the way his presence seemed to fill the space between you. The tension was palpable now, so thick you could almost taste it.

"I'm ready," you said, though your voice was a little too low, a little too breathless.

John's lips curled into a small smile, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But then, as if the moment never happened, he pulled away. The touch, the proximity-it was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving you standing there, trying to collect yourself.

...............

Later that night, after the others had gone to their respective tasks, you found yourself alone with John again. This time, it wasn't by accident. You sought him out, though you weren't entirely sure why. Maybe it was the tension that had been building between you, or maybe it was something deeper-something you weren't ready to acknowledge just yet.

He was in the same workspace, bent over the blueprints, but his posture was more relaxed now, as if he had been expecting you. You stepped into the room, the door creaking slightly behind you, and for a moment, you just watched him. His hands moved with purpose, his focus entirely on the designs in front of him. But when he spoke, it was clear he had known you were there all along.

"You're up late," he said without looking up. His voice was calm, measured, but there was something underneath it-something that made your skin tingle.

"I couldn't sleep," you replied, your voice betraying the tension you felt inside.

John finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours with that same piercing gaze. "What's on your mind?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. There were a hundred things on your mind-the police closing in, the games, the others-but none of that was what you really wanted to talk about. And you suspected John knew that.

"I don't know," you said finally, though it wasn't the truth.

John didn't press you. Instead, he stood up, moving slowly toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stopped just inches away from you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. And then, without warning, his hand found the small of your back again, just as it had earlier.

But this time, it wasn't just a fleeting touch. His hand stayed there, warm and steady, his fingers pressing lightly into your skin as he pulled you just a little closer.

"You've been doing well," John said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're becoming something more than just another apprentice."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but it was the way his hand moved-sliding just slightly, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist-that made your heart race. You could feel the tension between the two of you building, and for a moment, it felt like the room was closing in around you.

But then, as if sensing the intensity of the moment, John stepped back. The contact was broken, and the air between you felt colder without his touch. You stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, when John spoke again, his voice calm and measured.

"You should get some rest," he said, his tone returning to its usual controlled calm. But there was something in his eyes-something that told you this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

...............

The following days were filled with tension. The police had become more persistent, their investigations closing in on the warehouse. Hoffman had set up new traps, each more elaborate than the last, targeting the detectives who dared to get too close. Amanda was on edge, her frustration growing as she watched John's attention shift toward you.

You tried to focus on your tasks, on the games and the traps, but your thoughts kept drifting back to John-how his hand had lingered on your waist, how his voice had softened when he spoke to you. You couldn't deny it anymore: you were drawn to him in ways that went beyond admiration or respect. There was something deeper, something you couldn't quite name.

And John knew it. You could feel it in the way he watched you, the way his touches had become more frequent, more intimate. It was as if he was testing you, pushing the boundaries of whatever was growing between the two of you. You wanted to keep your distance, to stay focused on the tasks at hand, but every time he touched you, every time his fingers brushed against your skin, you found yourself wanting more.