you looked at the screen from where you were stretched across the couch, one leg thrown over the armrest, his bracelet looped around two fingers.

you smiled at your phone in spite of yourself and typed back: door’s open.

it wasn’t, actually.

you heard the rattle of the handle, then a sharp knock. "cute!" he called through the door. “really funny!"

you took your time getting up. it was petty and childish and exactly the point. by the time you pulled the door open, chris was leaning one shoulder against the frame, baseball cap low over his eyes, grey hoodie half-zipped, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone like he’d been about to text something rude.

his gaze lifted to yours, taking you in before his mouth pulled into something crooked and familiar. "always gotta make people wait, huh?"

"just you."

"wow, am i this special?"

you rolled your eyes, stepping aside and he walked in like he belonged here, the door clicking shut behind. chris glanced around once, then at you, “so. you've got something that's mine."

you folded your arms. “hi, chris. nice to see you too.”

his eyes narrowed with amusement. “you texted me to tell me you had my stuff.”

"'cus i do have it," you reply. "but i just don't know if i should give it to you so easily. you don't seem too grateful."

he scoffs. "so you want me to work for what's mine?"

you looked him up and down, slow enough to be insulting. “you said that, not me."

chris laughed under his breath, then held out a hand. “c'mon. give it back.”

you looked at his open palm, then back at his face. "hmm, no."

his brows lifted. “no?”

“no,” you repeated, already turning away from him and walking deeper into the apartment. “changed my mind.”

behind you, you heard him snort, in that disbelieving kind of his, when you said something so annoying he couldn’t decide if he wanted to argue or grin about it. “ya made me come here for nothin'?”

you glanced over your shoulder. “you came here because you wanted to.”

“not the point.”

“sure it is.”

he followed you into the living room, suspicious in the way he always got when he realized you were enjoying yourself too much. you dropped back onto the couch and tucked one leg under yourself, the bracelet still hidden in your fist. he stayed standing, looking down at you. "where is it?”

you tilted your head. “why?”

"'cus it’s mine.”

"is it?”

he stared at you for a second. “ya tryna be irritatin' on purpose, or does it just happen naturally?”

"little of both.”

"gimme the bracelet.”

"ask nicer.”

chris let out a low laugh and looked away for a second, tongue pressing into his cheek. “you've got issues.”

"and yet you’re in my apartment voluntarily.”

"not really voluntarily.”

"oh, did i force you to come here? just like on saturday when you got wasted and knocked on my door?"

he takes a deep breath. "don't feel too special. just had to crash somewhere."

"you don't have any friends left or what?"

"most of 'em lives in the frat and if i wanted to stay there, i would have, no?"

you smiled, shrugging. chris was getting more and more irritated, meanwhile you had the time of your life. unfortunately, he looked unfairly good when he was annoyed, eyes sharper, mouth meaner, shoulders set like he was holding himself back from saying something worse. you hated that you still paid attention to things like that when it came to him.

"you're a pain in the ass," he mumbles, stepping closer.

"vice versa."

he braces a hand on the back of the couch and leans over you slightly. “m'serious.”

oh?

you swallowed, looking up at him. "about the bracelet?”

“'bout you being annoying.”

“mm. you should be careful.”

"with what?”

"you're starting to sound like you've been missing me.”

he barked out a disbelieving laugh. “that's what you got from this?”

“either that or you’re just desperate for male jewelry.”

“jesus."

you shrugged one shoulder. “just trying to help you understand yourself.”

he stares at you for a second, then another, and there it was again. that look he got when he was caught somewhere between amusement and wanting to do something stupid. "where is it?” he asked again.

you uncrossed your legs slowly. “was it expensive or is it just important if you want it so bad?"

“it's mine. that's enough of a reason f'you to give it back." his eyes flicked to your hand. “show me."

"what?"

"your hand."

"no."

"why not?”

"'cus i like watching you get irritated.”

he tipped his head back for half a second, smiling to himself like he’d expected that answer and was still annoyed by it anyway. he looks back at you, something in his expression more deliberate now. less playful, more intent. "open your hand.”

you tightened your fingers around the bracelet instead. "make me.”

his eyes dropped to your hand, then lifted back to your face. “ya really don’t know when to stop.”

"maybe i do,” you said lightly. “i just don’t want to.”

“open your hand,” he repeated again.

"hmmm," you pretend to think. "still no.”

“seriously?”

you shrug, "you came here all this way, i think you can work a little harder for it.”

his gaze dragged over your face like he was trying to figure something out, but the corner of his mouth kept twitching, betraying him.

he tilted his head, grabbing your wrist and guiding your clenched fist beneath the waistband of your sweats. he hooks two fingers under the fabric, tugging it away from your skin, along with your panties, just enough to make some room. his eyes fixed on yours when you looked up at him, caught off guard.

"drop it," he said. "leave it there."

"are you insane—"

"you wanted to play games," he cuts you off. "so drop it."

you blinked, fingers finally loosening, and you let the bracelet slip from your palm. it disappeared beneath the waistband of your underwear, pulse jumping too hard in your throat when the cold metal met the heat of your pussy.

chris lets go of the fabric, and the elastic snaps back into place against your skin, trapping the cool weight of the bracelet there. you feel it settle against your clit and have to bite back the sound that wants to slip out, heat flashing through you all at once when you realize he's still watching your face.

"cold?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you're sick in the head—"

"m'just workin' harder for it. just like you wanted."

your pulse kicked hard at the way he said it, low and maddeningly calm, turning his irritation into an intrigue. you opened your mouth to argue, or maybe shove him away, but chris was already moving, slowly lowering his head by degrees, gaze dropping to your mouth and then lifting back to your eyes, challenging you. you've had every chance to stop him, but you didn't.

his mouth meets yours and the kiss turns brutal almost immediately when you respond, all heat and teeth and the sharp slide of tongues. you grabbed the front of his hoodie on instinct, dragging him closer, and chris made a low sound against your lips that only made everything worse.

every time you bit at his lip, he answered by kissing you deeper, hand on your waist, fingers spreading there, and then he was pushing you down, slow only in the sense that he made sure you felt every inch of it. the shift of his body over yours, the way his knee founded itself between your legs and pressed against you, not only to keep you in place, but to make you feel his bracelet there as well. the whole time he kept kissing you like he had something to prove, like every sharp breath you let slip against his lips only made him greedier.

your head spun.

you tried to steal some control, pushing back against him, but that only made him kiss you harder, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw and tip your face where he wanted it. when you bit at his lower lip out of stubbornness again, he made a low sound against your mouth that went straight through you and pressed you more firmly into the couch, heat flashing low in your stomach.

you hated him more than anything in this moment, even if you knew there's no one else to blame, but yourself, because it was all a part of the plan. make him come to you willingly, let him do whatever and then one day, just...

you feel him pressing his knee against you again, the bracelet still cold against your clit, the sensation hitting you all at once. the metal digging in just enough to make you jerk, a startled whimper catching in your throat.

you hated the way he seemed to know exactly how to undo you. how he'd kiss you like he had all the time in the world even though there was nothing patient about it, tongues sliding, mouths parting and crashing back together, every second of it turning messier than the last.

he presses his knee against you again.

he pulls back when you let a whimper leave your mouth, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen. "what was that?" he asks, like he didn't just hear that.

you glared at him, "you're an asshole."

a smile tugged at his mouth, "like you haven't already known that." his hand slides under your clothes, fingers deliberately pressing the cold metal right against your entrance.

a frown forms between your eyebrows, lips slightly parting when he grinds the metal against your clit.

"chris—"

"i know, i know. you hate me," he mutters, voice rough, feeling your cunt throbbing slightly against the pressure, which sends a jolt through him.

"i really do," you say honestly, biting down on your lip to hold back a moan when he slides the bracelet back and forth against your clit.

you should've had something sharp to throw back at him. something mean enough to wipe that look off his face, but when you feel his lips crashing against yours again, you completely lose it. he was kissing you hard enough to make you forget where one breath ended and the next began, hand tightening at your waist as he held you in place on the couch, all heat and pressure and that awful realization that you were losing whatever fight for control you thought you'd still been in.

he taps the bracelet directly against your cunt again, making your hips jerk. he keeps the metal rubbing slowly, knowing exactly what he's doing, taking the game you tried to start and turning it into your unraveling.

"you started this shit," he mutters, moving his lips down your neck. "you teased and refused to give me what's mine, so now i'll just take double."

"oh, fuck you," you mumble, hips rising to meet his hand and his smirk widens. "look at you," he murmurs, letting the bracelet drag slowly through your wetness, painting your own arousal across your clit. "didn't even touch you with my fingers. you leakin' over my fuckin' bracelet. was it always turnin' you on when i'd wear it?"

"it's only... your fault..." you mutter, letting lust win with stubbornness, your hips starting to grind desperately against his hand. "my fault?" his smirk turns into a full grin. he lets you set the pace for a moment, the bracelet sliding easily through your soaked folds with each movement. he puts his other hand onto your stomach to keep you in place. "it's just always my fault, isn't it?"

you couldn't hold back at that new, weird feeling of getting off on a piece of jewelry, which was embarrassing, honestly. the bracelet stays pressed against your pussy and you let yourself ride it against his trapped fingers which keeps putting more pressure onto your clit, rubbing it with the metal. "that's it," he mutters, watching you basically melt against his hand, his eyes glistening. "gonna watch your pussy work my bracelet 'til you're done."

chris watches you with dark satisfaction, seeing your rhythm falter as the cold metal drags perfectly against your swollen clit with every roll of your hips. the silver was catching your slickness now, making everything wet and frictionless. "yeah, use it... just like that," he breathes, voice rough, watching your tits rise and fall with your rapid breathing. "look at ya...gettin' yourself off on my bracelet... it's a little ridiculous, isn't it?"

“what the… fuck…," you curse under your breath, moaning right after it, when the pleasure starts building up in your lower belly. you'd never thought you'd experience something like this, but this is exactly how things are when it comes to chris. unexpected and strange.

"keep goin'," he encourages mockingly, his fingers flexing slightly, adjusting the bracelet's position to hit your clit dead-on with every grind. your eyes roll back and you bite down on your lip harder, but even this can't silence the noises that are slipping out. he keeps his hand flat on your stomach, feeling your muscles tense and release. "such a fuckin' slut for some piece of metal. gonna cum, huh?"

"chris, fuck—" another moan leaves you, hands desperately gripping whatever you could reach on the couch. your toes curl, hips rolling frantically, breath hitching right on the edge of an orgasm.

and then he stops.

he pulls his hand out, taking the bracelet with him, leaving your cunt throbbing and leaking.

your eyes snap back open instantly and a desperate whine leaves you.

"nah," he says simply, leaning over you, face so close, but so out of reach at the same time. "you not gettin' that after tryin' to toy with me," he whispers into your lips, letting his brush against it. then he stands up, keeping the bracelet between his fingers and dangling it above your face. it was all in your juices. "see that?"

you were completely out of words. speechless.

not only you were rubbing against something you'd never thought you'd even have close to your pussy, but he also declined you an orgasm, edging you.

and now he just wants to leave?

"chris," you grab his knee from where you're laying when he moves. you could see the visible boner in his pants. "c'mon, don't be like that."

he looks down at you, knocking your hand off with a shake of his leg. "don't forget to send me the video if you finish alone," he says, a grin spreading across his face and he just walks out.

you frown, clearly offended, lifting yourself up on your elbows and looking over your shoulder how he disappears in your hallway.

"fuck you!" you call out.

"tonight you can only dream!"

and he leaves just like that, shutting the front door behind.

was it.... 1:0 for him right now?