Game Over
The only light in Mike's room came from the monitor and keyboard, casting shifting colors across his face, highlighting the intense concentration etched to the game. Sounds could be heard through his headphones of gunfire and frantic comms chatter, punctuated by his own muttered curses and laughter. Twenty-five, brunette, little nerdy, lost in the world of games, oblivious. The rest of the house was quiet, late night settling in. He shared the place, awkwardly, with Ella - his half-sister, twenty-two, a woman of black clothes, blacker eyeliner, and a quiet intensity that always left him slightly off-balance. They didn't talk much. They coexisted. But he was always aware of her presence.
He didn't hear her come in over the headset's noise. Only sensed a shift in the room's energy, a presence beside his chair. He flinched, ready to snap at the interruption, pulling one side of the headset off. And there she was.
Ella. Dressed in ripped black jeans, an oversized band shirt swallowing her frame, her dark hair falling partially over the thick black frames of her glasses. She just stood there, watching him, her expression unreadable in the dim glow from the screen.
"What?" he asked, annoyed at being pulled from his game, yet also... curious. She rarely sought him out.
She didn't answer. Instead, she slowly sank to her knees beside his chair. His annoyance turned instantly to confusion, then to a jolt of something else. Something hot and forbidden, as her intent became clear. Her hands reached out, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, resting on his thighs near his crotch.
"Ella, what the--?" he started, but couldn't finish as she leaned forward, her glasses almost falling and began fumbling with the drawstring of his shorts. Her fingers brushed against his already hardening cock through the fabric, sending an electric shock straight up his spine. He froze, game forgotten, heart hammering against his ribs.
This isn't happening. Half-sister. Stop her.
