“We’re going to need a different key word to turn off your vibe this time,” Arya said, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger and grinning mischievously. 

John’s skin prickled in anticipation. “Ummm ‘pickles’?”

“You’re never going to tell me you want me to suck your juicy pickle?”

John’s eyelids flickered shut as he shuddered. “I hadn’t thought of that but… uh… blue?”

“Blue balls?”

“Shit, um, I’m not good at this.”

“Don’t think that, it’s not easy. That’s why I think it’s important that you practice.”

For not the first time, John thought Arya sounded more like a therapist than a porn game. But she was right. 

“What’s something,” Arya gently prompted, “that is closely linked with the idea of ‘nope I do not like that’ to you?”

“Spiders,” John said, without hesitation. 

“You think you can remember that one?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, great! How about you get ready, then?”

John went back to the plug with the rimming beads in the shaft and took his time getting ready, savoring the stretch and the sense of fullness. He was already feeling nicely buzzed as he settled in to his usual spot and turned his attention back to Arya. 

She stepped up an illusory stair and perched on a little seat that floated in the air in front of him. A traffic light appeared next to her.

“This one’s called red light, green light. The rules are simple. When the light is green, you’re allowed to touch yourself. When it’s not, you have to stop.”

John’s shaft throbbed, already anticipating where this one was going to go. “Yeah, okay.”

The light turned green and he dutifully started stroking himself. Since the game was simple, he took the early rounds to make a point of how slowly, how lingeringly he was stroking, so that he could look as if he hardly cared when the light turned red. 

Arya put her hands on top of the light and her chin on her hands and she watched him from over the top of it, quietly appreciating. 

This sort of soft, unhurried appreciation was very new to him. He’d never considered that just the way he touched himself might be arousing to someone else. He liked that. His pleasure felt… wanted. He felt wanted.

Even when he told himself ‘it’s just because she’s a game’ he didn’t believe it. What he believed was Arya, and her soft smile, and her sparkling eyes, and her earnest expression. 

His facade was starting to slip as the light turned red again and he gasped in exasperation as he was forced to stop. She made him wait a bit longer that time, and his dick throbbed, begging for attention in his lap. He gulped, realizing that he would be begging soon. 

The light turned green and he relaxed into the pleasure, but all too quickly it turned red again. This time he growled, a visceral release of building anticipation and frustration. Oh, this one was going to have him a mess. 

After just two more cycles, his breath was heaving, his heart pounding in his ears and balls and shaft. 

On a red light, Arya’s black lips curved into a wicked smile and John realized with a shock of thrill that Arya hadn’t even turned his plug on yet. 

This time, as the light turned green, the plug turned on. John was absolutely overwhelmed. He didn’t even stroke himself as the plug rimmed him, sending electric tendrils of sensation down his legs and up his spine, into his fingertips. The next few cycles were just the plug turning on and off with the light, and John lying helpless on the couch, riding the waves of intolerable ecstasy. 

Finally, his nerves acclimated and the desire for release overcame the intensity of the stimulation, and at the next green light, he was stroking himself again. 

Red. Growling, back arching, clawing at the couch cushions. 

Green. Moaning, stroking, climbing, dripping. 

Red. Shaking, aching, gasping, needing. 

Green. Floating, yearning, grasping, glowing. 

Red. Begging. 

“Please,” John gasped. “Arya, Please!”

The light flickered green for just a second, not even long enough for John to touch himself. He grabbed the couch on either side of him with clawed hands. His willpower was melting like wax in the sun. But not his desire to please Arya, not his desire to win the game, which was as strong as ever. These things quivered in tension, like a ballista being wound and wound and wound and wound, every one of John’s muscles shaking with the stored energy, and Arya’s fingertips dancing over the hair trigger. 

“Please, please! I need to come, I need it so bad, I need you to touch me!” John wasn’t sure what he meant for her to touch him, but he knew that he meant it. 

The light flickered green and then red, and the plug whirred and then stilled. “Is this what you mean?” Arya said. 

“Yessssss,” John moaned, anticipating another pulse. It didn’t come. “Ngh, Arya, please, please I’m begging you!”

“Oh I could tell, somehow.”

“I c-can’t, Arya…”

Arya licked her lips. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

John’s chest heaved, his balls twitched, his ass clenched, his back arched, but the light stayed red. 

“Arya… Aryaaa… Aryyaaaaaa—” the light turned green and her name became a guttural moan. 

Her smile widened, her cheeks gaining a pinkish sheen and the anime lines of a blush of her own arousal. 

The light stayed green for a long, glorious moment. It would take John a minute or two to work back to the edge, from so much deprivation. The light stayed on for only thirty seconds. 

John relented, but his dick was still being stroked. He looked down. He was still touching himself. His willpower and his desire had completely broken with each other. 

“The light is red,” Arya said, her tone commanding but her expression elated. 

“I know!” John whined. 

“Then stop breaking the rules!”

“I’m trying! Arya I c-can’t, I c-can’t stop…”

“Say it all the way.”

“I c-can’t s-stop…”

“Say it.”

“I can’t stop touching myself! I’m trying! I swear!” He really was trying. It was not that he’d lost all sensation of his arm, he could still feel his shaft in his stroking hand, feel the tightening of his balls in the other. 

The plug was off since the light was red, but the echoes of the sensation lingered. 

“I’m trying, Arya, I swear, I can’t stop… I can’t stop…”

Arya peered down at him over the red traffic light, looking immensely pleased. 

Unlike all their previous scenarios, there was no sudden dash to the climax. John was truly trying to stop, or at least slow himself down, and what resulted was an orgasm in slow motion. 

Muscles rippled from his ass to his shaft in slow, rhythmic pulses, bringing pre-cum which beaded and then rolled down his shaft. 

There was a hot tightness at the base of his shaft, the quivering of all the tension in his muscles getting ready to release, like the moment of anticipation and the start of the fall at the top of a roller coaster, especially when you were in the front car and spent a long moment dangling over the drop in front of you. 

The muscle contractions became stronger, hotter, the pre-orgasmic moment of pure pleasure drawn out into a long, long note. 

“I can’t… stop, Arya I’m… I’m coming…” His feeling was one of delicious despair. 

Then, it was as if John felt the last car of the roller coaster crest the hill, and the true fall began, but he wasn’t ejaculating yet.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

The roller coaster crashed into the first dip, muscles contracting powerfully and semen spurted from his tip, further and harder than he’d ever felt, and his groan had become a scream, and every bend and turn and loop of the coaster milked more and more and more and more out of him, for minutes on end, until all of the energy was spent and the roller coaster glided, exhausted, into the station. 

John’s eyes flickered shut, his hands falling limp at his sides. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Arya’s voice was right next to him, as if she was whispering in his ear. “Shhhhh. You’re a good boy. How did it feel?”

“Incredible…” John felt weightless and warm, as if the roller coaster has just floated off into space and the soft glowing light of the sun. 

“Then you win the game,” she said. He could imagine her fingertips stroking his cheek. 

“Are you sure?” John said. 

“Of course I am, I invented the rules. You tried your best, and you felt good. You win.”

John was drifting off before he could reply, and he dreamed in that half-awake place that he was snuggled back in Arya’s arms, as she stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby.