[RPF Drabble] Game
Shots were fired, and there must be answers. Many of my comrades have fallen as he gleefully tweeted at leisure from his computer. This shall not stand.
I wrote this on my phone. Damn him. ———
This is a battle of mental endurance, surely, but a physical one as well.
A game that you are almost ready to admit that you are losing on both fronts.
The casual glances that are too lingering to be of comfort, the lightest brush of his coarse hands from rehearsing upon your skin as if in carelessness-one could make the argument that those are involuntary muscle movements, but you know too well.
These are all calculated. This is one man who leaves nothing to chances, and for your every move he is three steps ahead, looking back at you ever so gentlemanly, waiting for you to catch up.
But no, he doesn’t wait-he merely stops for you to fall back and get entangled in the web that he crafts for you. (Differently each time.)
But you are not going to surrender just yet-why should you suffer so from his antics and pent-up frustrations?
So you straighten up, lean back into your chair, and cross your legs-at the precise moment when he looks up at you in the middle of his push-ups, drops of sweat running down his chiseled face. (You silently grimace at the fact that even his sweating raises your body temperature.)
Two can play, and you will only admit defeat when the last piece has been checkmated.
And then you smirk-you know he fancies the way that you ever so slightly turn the corners of your mouth upwards, as if in the know of something no other soul in the whole universe has knowledge of, oh-so disdained and above-it all…
You know he also hates it when you do that. (This man, ugh.) His embrace is gentle but absolute-he must know your every secret every desire everything laid bare. He offers you the world for it, but you have your own-you’ve told him so many times.
Your little display does not escape his notice, and you see something gleaming in his eyes as he resumes his rehearsal training-it is not over.
It is far from over.
Round one, love-all.