That Friday night started like any other, with the two of us stumbling back from a party, the alcohol warm in our veins. Jake and I had always been on equal footing—same height, same build. I’d even wondered once, fleetingly, who’d win if we ever went at it. It wasn’t like Jake intimidated me. In fact, I figured I had the edge. Maybe because I trained harder, or just because I liked to think I wouldn’t back down.

But that night, something shifted. I was still riding the buzz, just tipsy enough to feel detached, like nothing around me was really happening. Jake, though, seemed composed, as usual. He wasn’t slurring his words or stumbling; he never did. But there was something different about him—something deliberate in his movements, something tense in the air that I couldn’t quite place.

We ended up back in the dorm room, like always, but there was this strange energy between us—heavy and unspoken. Jake sprawled out on his bed, kicked off his shoes, and looked over at me. His gaze lingered, and I could feel the weight of it, like he was seeing straight through me.

I tried to ignore it, sitting at the edge of my bed, shaking off the tension. But then Jake's voice cut through the quiet.

“You ever wonder what it’s like?” His tone was casual, but there was something behind it—something deeper.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sat up, locking his eyes on mine. His smirk was subtle, but enough to make my stomach tighten. “You know... what it’s like to let someone else take control.”

I stared at him, feeling the air in the room shift. This wasn’t the first time Jake had thrown out something suggestive, but this felt different. Serious. It made my throat tighten.

“I don’t think about that,” I said, though my voice wavered.

Jake stood up, walking toward me with that same calm confidence. And even though we were the same size, something about him felt bigger, more imposing, as he got closer. It was like the room shrank.

His scent hit me first—warm, musky cologne mixed with a faint smell of sweat. His chest moved steadily, while mine felt tight. He stopped right in front of me, his body close enough that I could feel the heat from him.

“I think you have,” Jake said, his voice dropping lower. He knelt down in front of me, his face level with mine, and even though we were eye to eye, I suddenly felt like I was the one looking up at him. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

My heart pounded, and for the first time, I wasn’t so sure I could take him. That thought—the one I’d had a thousand times before—felt different now. He wasn’t intimidating because of his size, but because of the quiet authority he exuded. And I hated that realization. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but something uncomfortably close to it.

“Jake, this is messed up,” I muttered, my voice weak. I couldn’t look at him. His breath brushed against my skin, his smell making my head spin.

He didn’t back off. His hand rested on my knee, light but firm. “It’s not messed up. It’s just us,” he said smoothly. “You’re curious, aren’t you?”

I tried to speak, to tell him no, but the words were stuck. His hand slid up from my knee to the back of my neck, his fingers curling in my hair, pulling me slightly forward. Not harshly, but there was strength behind it—a reminder that I wasn’t in control here.

And that’s when it hit me. It wasn’t just the alcohol throwing me off. It was him—his presence, his grip, his calm voice. If I tried to pull away, I wouldn’t get far. That realization hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“Just try it,” Jake whispered, his breath warm against my ear. His other hand moved to his belt, undoing it slowly. “It’s not a big deal. No one’s gonna know.”

My hands trembled, and I hated that they did. But before I realized what was happening, I was unzipping his pants. The sound was too loud in the quiet room.

“You’re doing good,” Jake murmured, guiding me lower, his hand in my hair. “Just relax.”

I knelt in front of him, feeling the floor beneath my knees, the heat radiating off his body. His grip tightened just enough to remind me that I wasn’t going anywhere. I hated that. Hated how easily he controlled me.

“Good boy,” he whispered, his voice soft, but those words hit harder than I expected. It was the way my body responded—how those two words made my stomach churn and pulse race—that unsettled me.

I started slowly, tentatively, my hands gripping his thighs as I took him into my mouth. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar, but there was something about it that felt… right. Like I was crossing a line I had always been afraid to approach, but now that I had, I couldn’t stop. Jake’s breathing grew heavier, his hands tangling in my hair, guiding me but never forcing me. He didn’t have to. I was doing this on my own.

The taste of him, the sound of his breath hitching, the way his body responded to me—it was all so intense, so overwhelming. I felt a rush of power and submission all at once, a strange mix that made my head spin. This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t want this. But at the same time, I couldn’t deny the thrill of it, the way it made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t expected.

Jake’s grip tightened in my hair, his hips lifting slightly as I took him deeper, my own breath coming in ragged gasps. I was lost in it now, completely consumed by the act, by the way I was making him feel. I hated how much I was enjoying it, how much I wanted to keep going, to push myself further.

Jake groaned quietly, his hand still guiding me, controlling me. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

I should’ve stopped. I should’ve pulled away. But instead, I let him take over. His hand tightened, pushing me down harder, and for a moment, I thought about how strong he really was. Stronger than I ever gave him credit for.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Jake breathed, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just a little more.”

That was when I tried to pull away. I felt the tension rising in him, and my instinct screamed to stop. But when I did, Jake’s grip in my hair tightened, holding me in place. His muscles tensed, his hips moving faster. I tried harder, pushing against his thigh, but it was useless. He wasn’t letting go.

I jerked back just as he came, but not fast enough. Warm slickness hit my lips, the taste lingering before I wiped it away, anger boiling inside me—at him, at myself.

Scrambling to my feet, I wiped my mouth, my heart pounding with disgust and frustration. I could feel the heat in my face, the tightness in my chest. But Jake just leaned back, calm, his eyes locked on mine.

I was ready to lash out, but then his gaze shifted downward, and I froze. The anger drained out, replaced with cold shame. I followed his eyes and saw it—the hardness in my own jeans. The evidence.

Jake’s smirk widened, his grip on my wrist still firm. “You like it,” he said, calm and certain.

I shook my head, trying to pull away, but I was stuck. Trapped by his hand and by my own confusion.

“You can pretend all you want,” Jake whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “But I know. You liked it.”

His words sliced through me, shame twisting in my gut. I hated it. I hated that he was right. And I couldn’t fight it anymore.

Jake loosened his grip, but his eyes stayed on me, watching me unravel.

“Good boy,” he murmured softly, his hand sliding down to the front of my jeans. “If you want, I can give you some benefits too.”

I jerked away, finally free from his touch, my mind a mess. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Without another word, I turned and walked out, the weight of his voice still echoing in my ears as I left.

Behind me, I heard Jake laugh softly, confident, like he knew something I didn’t.