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You lean over, dropping the controllers on the floor, your breath coming in heavy pants as you take a moment to yourself. You don’t want to look at the score- you know if you do, it’ll be just a bit shy of where you were aiming. Hours of work, for just a few points shy, and you can feel the heaviness in your chest of not quite getting there. While you’re running the map back through your head you don’t realize that you’re no longer alone in the room.

“How close did you get?” His voice calls out to you, startling you out of your reflective moment.

You pull the headset up and look in the direction of the door- he’s partly encased in the dim light of the hallway, but you can see the expression on his face: he’s pleased . You have no idea why- why would he be if you haven’t beaten him?

“Not fucking close enough.” The words don’t mean to be venomous, but you can’t help it. You had worked so hard and still come up short. All that hard work and what was the fucking point ?

His face pinches, his eyebrows drawing together as he moves forward, “You were so close. I count that as a win.” He gently removes the headset from your head and rubs your forehead, carefully rubbing where the marks from the headset lie. “You’ll get it, you’re great at this game.”

You scowl at him, he’s being kind with you and after so much frustration you’re not sure if you want him to be kind . You know that he pushes you because he knows you can achieve it, but some small part of you wants him to be harsh with you not beating his score. Pushing away from him slightly, you cross your arms over your chest, reading every ounce as the defiant little shit you know you can be.

His expression changes as his eyes flick over your face, trying to get a read on what he thinks he’s seeing. His eyes darken and his whole stance changes. You feel the air in the room change- you’re gotten your wish, but you’re not completely sure what will happen next.

“You sure about this?” He always double-checks to make sure you’re okay with changing things, his care is so tangible.

Your response is a small nod, and barely a beat passes before he’s in your space again, one hand gripping your chin firmly and the other pushing your arms away from your chest. It’s not exceptionally rough, but it is enough to make your breath come quicker. You know this is going to be amazing. Your body almost moves with a mind of its own, pressing against him.

His free arm wraps around, dragging you against him, pinning you in place. You can feel how hard he is between you, the game you’re started making him harden. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes.

“All that competition and back and forth, I think you need to be taught a lesson.” His voice is just above a whisper, but you can hear him clearly. The grip on your face slides from your chin to the front of your sweat-soaked shirt, harshly pinching your nipple and rubbing it between his fingers.

The gasp that comes out of your mouth feels extremely loud in the otherwise quiet room. You would put money on it bouncing from the studio into her office. There’s a small part of your brain that knows she could hear you before, but knowing you’ll make enough noise to draw her into the room makes you get wetter. Reaching up with your arms, you grip his shoulders, digging in your nails.

“Yeah, and what lesson is that?” Your words are laced with a cocky attitude you know won’t bode well and you’re banking on it. You lick your lips to wet them because they feel dry under the heavy gaze you’re receiving.

He lets out a slightly dark laugh, releasing his grip on your nipple, only to switch to the other one, giving it slightly harsher treatment, “The lesson that little brats get when they’re being defiant.” He releases your nipple only to take a step back from you, leaving your body feeling cold for want of the heat you both were putting out. “Stay right there, don’t move.”

Every part of your body wants to move as he steps out of the room momentarily. You can hear the sounds of harsh kisses from the other room and soft speaking, you can’t make out what’s being said, but you have a good guess. Playing this game isn’t uncommon and sometimes she joins him in making sure you’re thoroughly used , but you don’t know if today will be one of those days.

Just as you slide your eyes shut to take some calming breaths, you hear the sound of his feet on the carpet. His return means so much more than just a continued game, it could mean a change in the game depending on how she felt, but when you open your eyes he’s standing alone, supplies gripped in his hand. You nod again, making sure he knows that all is well and you’re still game. Consent is important to him, he’d have checked in any way because that’s simply how he is .

When he steps forward, he drops the supplies on the desk, making sure his hands are free for you. As he walks towards you, you feel like the prey of a predator that’s caught you and you love every second . Prey and Predator is an apt description of the game you’re playing, you know he’ll wreck you in all the best ways and shut the voices up in your head long enough that you don’t feel like they’re bothering you.

“Get out of your head. I can feel you thinking. Stop that.” The last words are almost a growl- he knows exactly where your head is, which is both terrifying and freeing. He reaches out to you, pulling you closer to the desk, his hands sliding across your body. Goosebumps rise over your arms as he flicks at your nipples, wanting them to be visible again through your shirt. “I think all this needs to go. Too many layers.”

His hands slide to the hem of your shirt, but as you reach for his, he swats your hand away. “Did I say anything about me being naked?” The power and control that flows through his voice makes you feel as though you’re practically dripping, you know when he’s fully dressed he’s in control and you’re somewhat helpless. He helps remove your shirt, dropping it on the floor without a care in the world.

You clamp your thighs together, trying to combat the wetness down there, but you know in the back of your mind it’s pointless because he’s pulling the button free and his breathing gets harsher noticing what you’ve forgone today. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He pushes your jeans down to leave you on display, your body bare because this morning you decided underwear were more pain than they’re worth. His fingers dance over your skin, brushing against your lower lips, feeling the wetness there that sounds so damn wet to your own ears.

“Was hoping something would happen today,” Your words are soft, but he still catches them, tsking slightly as he slides a finger into you, gently fucking you with it.

“You know all you have to do is ask,” His voice is soft, missing the earlier edge because he wants you to know he’s serious. That doesn’t stop his light fucking of you with his fingers, if anything the lightening of the mood causes him to push into you harder so you don’t forget who's really in charge.

You nod, moving to cover yourself because you’re not sure if the scene has broken. “I k-know, but the asking isn’t always e-easy.” Your voice comes out in starts because he’s added another finger along with the first, the sounds of him fucking you are loud compared to your response.

He nods as he rubs against your spot, forcing a gasp from your mouth as you grip him for support. If he’s trying to make your legs give out, he’s doing a damn great job of it.

“We’ll talk about this later when I’m done teaching you our lesson.” He slides his hands from inside you, only to lick his fingers clean, humming at your taste. It’s like your juices are dessert and he wants it all. When he’s satisfied he’s gotten it all, he pulls you towards his chair.

You move as he guides, stopping just shy of his chair. As he sits down, he releases your hand, only to tug his belt and pants open, pulling out his cock and giving it a few strokes. The pleasure is written on his face, he knows just how to push his own buttons, and yours if you’re being honest. And there’s something about knowing the hand he’s using was just covered in your juices that makes you bite your lip in hunger.

His cock is twitching slightly as he slides a condom from the table over himself, protection is important after all. “Comfy lap for a pretty girl?” He spreads his legs, giving you room to perch on his lap.

You’re slightly shaky as you slide into his lap, moaning loudly as he helps you get seated, knowing he’s going to wreck you in the chair everyone sees. Next time he streams, this is the moment you’ll think of. The moment he slid in and filled you, tugging you roughly and fucking into you enough to push moans out of you every time he rubbed over that spot inside you. You’ll press the bruises on your hips you know are going to be there and gasp at the thought of how hard he fucked you. You’ll get wet every time you think about when she finally came in and played with your hair and breasts as she told him how hard to fuck you. You’ll feel so warm and satisfied when he’s done almost breaking you, your brain long gone, but even more cared for when he carries you up to their bed and cleans you up, tucking you in the middle.