Game of Control

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The dorm room was a haze of late-night tension, the kind that clung to the air like static before a storm. Andrew Minyard sat at the desk, his posture rigid, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the scratched-up wood. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the textbook in front of him, though he hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes. Beneath the desk, hidden from view, Neil Josten knelt with a predator’s patience, his breath hot and teasing against Andrew’s thigh. The game was on, and Neil was playing to win.

“You’re too quiet up there,” Neil murmured, his voice a low, taunting purr as his fingers ghosted over the waistband of Andrew’s jeans. “Nervous?”

Andrew’s glare could’ve cut glass, but his voice was a controlled drawl. “Keep talking, Josten, and I’ll kick you out from under there myself.”

Neil chuckled, the sound vibrating against Andrew’s skin as he tugged at the zipper with deliberate slowness. “Oh, I’d like to see you try. You’re already halfway to breaking, and I haven’t even started.”

Before Andrew could snap back, the door swung open with a creak, and Nicky Hemmick strutted in, oblivious to the charged undercurrent in the room. “Yo, Andrew, where’s Neil? I’ve been looking for him everywhere. Coach is gonna flip if he’s not at practice tomorrow.”

Andrew’s hand clenched around the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening as Neil, the bastard, chose that exact moment to drag his fingers along the outline of Andrew’s hardening cock through the fabric. “He’s... around,” Andrew gritted out, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “What do you want, Nicky? I’m busy.”

Nicky leaned against the doorframe, completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the desk. “Just checking in. You’ve got that murder look again. Everything okay?”

Neil’s smirk was practically audible as he eased the zipper down, inch by torturous inch, his breath hot and deliberate. Andrew’s thighs tensed, his control fraying at the edges. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Get out.”

“Damn, okay, grumpy,” Nicky said with a laugh, holding up his hands. “I’ll leave you to your... studying. If you see Neil, tell him to stop hiding.”

As Nicky finally turned to leave, shutting the door behind him, Andrew let out a low, dangerous growl. “You’re a fucking menace, Josten.”

Neil’s head tilted up just enough for Andrew to catch the glint of mischief in his blue eyes. “And you love it. They were looking for me, huh? Guess I’d better hurry.” His tone was anything but rushed as he finally freed Andrew’s hard cock from the confines of his jeans, his lips brushing the tip with maddening restraint.

Andrew’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the desk like a lifeline. “If you don’t stop teasing, I’m going to—”

“Going to what?” Neil cut in, his voice dripping with challenge as he took Andrew into his mouth, slow and deliberate, savoring every shudder that ran through the blond’s body. Andrew’s head tipped back, a curse slipping past his lips as Neil worked him with ruthless precision, dragging out the pleasure until Andrew was sweating, panting, on the edge of losing it completely.

Neil pulled back just enough to murmur, “Not yet,” before sliding the chair back with a scrape. His hands gripped Andrew’s hips, pulling him forward with a strength that left no room for argument. “Pants. Off. Now.”

Andrew’s glare was molten, but he complied, kicking the jeans and boxers away as Neil’s gaze raked over him, hungry and unapologetic. “You’re insufferable,” Andrew muttered, though his voice was rough with need.

“And you’re dripping for me,” Neil shot back, his fingers slick as they teased lower, finding their mark with a confidence that made Andrew’s breath catch. Neil’s mouth returned to Andrew’s cock, a wet, relentless heat, while his fingers pressed inside, coaxing a low, sweet moan from Andrew’s throat.

The room was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the tension building to a breaking point as Neil pushed Andrew closer to the edge, his own control fraying with every sound Andrew made. When Andrew finally came, it was with a shuddering gasp, his hands tangled in Neil’s hair, holding on as if the world might slip away.

Neil rose from under the desk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and predatory. “We’re not done,” he said, his voice a promise as he stepped closer, crowding Andrew against the desk. The air between them crackled, electric and insatiable, as Neil’s hands roamed, claiming every inch of skin they could reach.

Andrew’s smirk was sharp, a challenge. “Then stop talking and prove it.”