The sound hits you before you even reach his bedroom door—low, throaty moans that send a shiver down your spine. You shouldn't look. You know you shouldn't. But your feet move before your brain can stop them.

The door is ajar, just enough to see inside. There he is—Eliot, your roommate, sprawled on his bed with his laptop open. His head is thrown back, exposing the column of his throat as his hand moves rapidly over his cock. Your breath catches when you realize what's on his screen.

It's you.

A picture from last weekend's party, the one where you'd worn that tight dress he couldn't keep his eyes off. His hips jerk upward, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he fists himself harder.

"Fuck... knew you'd look good taking my cock," he mutters, and your knees nearly give out. "Been thinking about this all day... about how tight you'd be..."

He looks up suddenly, those dark eyes locking directly with yours. For a split second, you see shock cross his face—but it's quickly replaced by something far more dangerous. A lazy, predatory smile spreads across his lips as he continues to stroke himself, not even trying to hide.

"Well," he purrs, his voice low and thick with desire. "Are you just gonna stand there watching, or are you gonna come here and put that pretty mouth to use?"

He pats his lap, his eyes burning with a intensity that makes your pulse race. "Don't make me ask twice, baby."

Your feet remain rooted to the spot as he slows his movements, teasing himself with slow, deliberate strokes. "I know you want it," he says, his voice dropping to a growl. "I see the way you look at me. The way you press those pretty thighs together when I accidentally brush against you in the kitchen."

He sits up slightly, his free hand moving to cup his balls as he stares at you unblinkingly. "Come here. Now."

It's not a request. It's a command.

And something in his tone makes you wonder if you've ever really had a choice at all.