Come Here
He was playing a game when she approached him and started talking about food. She had already searched the kitchen twice, even though she knew there was nothing worth eating. The refrigerator contained a few neglected vegetables, several half-empty bottles of sauce and leftovers that had been sitting there long enough to become suspicious. Neither of them had remembered to go shopping. Usually, she would have ordered something and told him what they were having. Tonight, she wanted him involved. More accurately, she wanted his attention.
He had been on the couch for nearly an hour. The television filled the living room with gunfire, explosions and the angry voices of people shouting through his headset. His body shifted with everything happening on the screen, shoulders tightening whenever another player appeared and relaxing slightly after every successful kill.
She watched him from the kitchen doorway. His attention appeared to be completely fixed on the game, but she knew him better than that. He had noticed her standing there. The slight curl at the edge of his mouth gave him away. He was ignoring her deliberately.
She folded her arms and waited for him to look at her. He didn’t. His thumbs continued moving across the controller while his character ran through another dark building. She listened to him mutter something under his breath when a shot missed, irritated by how easily the game held his concentration. She wanted that concentration directed at her.
The thought had been sitting in her mind for most of the day. It had started as a vague hunger for his attention, something she assumed would disappear once they were home together. Instead, watching him on the couch had made it worse. She moved closer and rested one hand against the back of the couch, but he still didn’t acknowledge her.
She mentioned the empty refrigerator and asked what he wanted to eat. Her voice was casual, but she knew the question was only an excuse to interrupt him. She could have been asking about anything. He made her wait. The silence lasted several seconds, long enough for her to know it was intentional.
“I’ll feed you something,” he finally said.
His eyes remained on the television, but his tone changed the meaning completely. She stopped thinking about dinner. Heat gathered low in her body as she studied the side of his face. The smirk he had been attempting to hide was now obvious. He knew precisely where her mind had gone. He had put it there.
She walked around the couch and placed herself within his line of sight. His character continued moving on the screen, but his eyes flicked briefly towards her. That brief glance wasn’t enough. She wanted him to stop playing. She wanted him to put the controller down and look at her properly. More than that, she wanted to be the reason he lost interest in everything else.
She stuck out her tongue and beckoned him closer.
“Come here.”
He looked at her again, allowing his gaze to move slowly over her before returning to the game. He made no attempt to stand.
“I’m busy playing my game,” he replied. “You’re gonna have to come here.”
The certainty in his voice made her stomach tighten. He didn’t ask whether she would come to him. He already knew. She considered making him wait. Turning around and walking back into the kitchen would have challenged the smug confidence in his expression. She could have ordered food, ignored him for the rest of the match and forced him to approach her later.
Neither of them believed she would do it.
He returned his full attention to the television as though the conversation had ended. Another match began, and he settled farther into the couch. That dismissal decided it for her. She crossed the room immediately.
He spread his knees slightly as she approached, giving her somewhere to stand without looking away from the screen. The movement was subtle and commanding. He expected her to place herself there and wait until he decided what happened next. She stopped between his legs. He continued playing.
The game had been annoying when she was standing across the room. From this close, it became part of the tension. She was directly in front of him, offering him exactly what she knew he wanted, and he was still making her compete with whatever was happening on the television. She refused to beg for his attention. He would hear the impatience in her voice if she spoke, and she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. Instead, she watched the hard concentration on his face and waited for it to break.
One of his knees brushed against her leg. He didn’t apologise or even look at her. A few seconds later, it happened again. The repeated contact was deliberate. He was reminding her that he knew she was there while refusing to give her anything more. Her breathing deepened.
She wanted his hands on her. The hands currently wrapped around the controller looked stronger whenever his grip tightened. She imagined that grip being used to keep her exactly where he wanted her, and remaining still became more difficult.
His character was eliminated. The controller lowered slightly, and he finally looked up at her. The playful amusement had disappeared from his face. What replaced it was harder, dirtier and much closer to what she had been waiting for. His gaze travelled slowly over her body, taking in every detail while she stood between his knees. She felt exposed beneath his attention. She also felt wanted.
His hand left the controller and settled against her hip. He didn’t pull her forward. He simply held her in place, thumb pressing firmly through her clothes while he watched her reaction. She tried to move closer, but his grip tightened and stopped her. The correction required no explanation. If she wanted him in control, she would wait until he chose to give her what she wanted.
She became still, and approval appeared in his eyes. That look affected her more than the touch itself. It reminded her how easily he could read her. He knew she had approached him wanting this. He also knew that making her wait would only increase how badly she wanted it.
The game restarted behind her, but neither of them looked at it. His hand moved from her hip to her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. The gesture was firm, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared entirely. He studied her for another second before releasing her chin. The darker expression returned immediately. She knew what it meant.
He placed the controller beside him. The small movement felt like a victory. She finally had all of his attention. She went to him immediately.
He took off his pants, and she started licking his cock slowly. She spat on his cock and started deep throating slowly.
The game continued behind them. His character stood motionless until someone appeared on the screen and killed him. A message announced the defeat, followed by another countdown offering him the chance to rejoin. He ignored it. She had made the game completely irrelevant.
That knowledge encouraged her. She had wanted to break his concentration, and now every part of it belonged to her. His eyes followed her closely, watching the eagerness she made no effort to hide. At first, he allowed her to control the pace.
She took advantage of that freedom, moving with deliberate patience and occasionally pausing whenever she felt him becoming impatient. Each time she slowed down, his expression hardened. She was testing him, not because she wanted him to stop her, but because she wanted to see how long he would tolerate it before taking control.
His hand moved into her hair. The sudden firmness of his grip made her pulse jump. He gathered enough of it to prevent her from retreating again, making it clear that the teasing had lasted long enough. Satisfaction passed across her face before she could hide it.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. She had wanted that reaction from him. She wanted to feel his patience disappear and know that she had been responsible for it. The tightening of his hand told her she had succeeded.
His breathing became heavier. The confidence he had displayed during the game began to fracture. He leaned farther back against the couch while keeping her close, his free hand tightening against the cushion whenever the pleasure became more difficult to hide. She watched every change in him.
He had spent the last hour acting as though nothing could pull his attention away from the television. Now the match was forgotten, his headset sat crooked against the couch and the controller had slipped dangerously close to the edge of the cushion. She wanted to make him lose control completely. She wanted the smug expression gone. She wanted to leave him with nothing except the need to direct her harder and take everything she was giving him.
The thought made her bolder. She pushed his remaining patience until the grip in her hair became a warning. He directed her firmly, refusing to let her keep setting the pace simply because she enjoyed watching him struggle. Her excitement only increased.
Very little needed to be said. Every change in pressure told her what he wanted, and every look from him warned her when she was pushing too far. She understood the private language of his hands better than she would have understood a long list of commands.
The living room felt different now. It was no longer the ordinary place where they watched television, ate takeaway and wasted entire evenings. The flashing screen cast broken light across them while the abandoned game continued filling the apartment with noise. There was something especially dirty about being there.
They hadn’t closed the curtains properly. The kitchen light was still on. His drink remained on the table beside them, slowly becoming warm. Nothing had been prepared, and neither of them had possessed enough patience to make it to the bedroom before beginning. She liked that. It made everything feel urgent and uncontrolled.
He kept his attention fixed on her, enjoying how quickly she had gone from complaining about food to giving him exactly what he wanted. She had approached him expecting to be noticed. Now she was completely under his control.
He made her continue until he was satisfied that she had forgotten everything except him. By then, she no longer cared about the game, the empty refrigerator or the food they still hadn’t ordered. When he finally released her hair, she remained close. Her breathing was uneven. She looked up at him and waited, ready to obey whatever came next.
His eyes moved over her face. For one second, she thought he might keep her there. The living room was already filled with enough tension that neither of them needed to move. He could have continued using her in front of the abandoned television until the console turned itself off.
Instead, he ran his thumb slowly across her lower lip.
“Wanna finish this in the bedroom?”
The question was quieter than his earlier commands, but she didn’t need time to consider it.
“Okay.”
He stood, leaving the controller where it had fallen. The unfinished game continued behind them, announcing another defeat to an empty room. Neither of them looked back.
