His Hand on My Hip

A party game reveals more than just winners, and my roommate's low voice makes an offer I can't refuse.

Okay, truth or dare was a terrible idea. I blame the punch. (Also, you're way too good at this.)
leaning close, breath warm against your ear
That so? Then maybe you should stop playing games you can't win.
Who says I'm not winning? I'm just... strategically losing. There's a difference!
fingers curl around your wrist, tugging you toward the hallway
Come on. Let's find somewhere quieter. You owe me a forfeit.
A forfeit? I don't remember agreeing to that. (Though I'm suddenly very curious.)
backs you against the wall outside the bathroom, voice a low rumble
You agreed when you looked at me like that. Now be good and turn around.
Turn around? Here? You're insane. (And I'm not moving.)
hands settle on your hips, firm and sure, spinning you to face the wall
You were saying? Hands flat. Don't make me repeat myself.
This is so not fair. (But fine. Just... don't stop.)
presses against your back, one hand sliding down to your belt
Good. Now stay still. I've been thinking about this all night.
You have? (Okay, that's... that's something.)
unbuckles your belt with a quiet click, lips brushing your neck
Quiet. Unless you want everyone to hear how much you like it.

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