The Quiet Command

The weekend always felt different in Damian’s house.

Lily had a way of filling the air with noise—music humming from her phone, the chatter of texts buzzing, her laughter bubbling up for no reason. She was curled up on the couch beside Eli, legs tucked under a blanket, scrolling through her phone while the TV flickered soundlessly in front of them.

But Eli wasn’t watching the screen.

His eyes kept flicking across the room, drawn to the man in the armchair. Damian sat in his usual place, as though the chair belonged only to him. His body fit into it with the kind of ease that came from ownership. He didn’t slouch. He didn’t need to. He leaned back, one arm resting against the armrest, the other holding a glass of water like it was whiskey. He wasn’t even looking at Eli—just at the TV, calm, unreadable—but somehow, Eli felt pinned.

Pinned and restless.

He told himself it was nerves. Of course it was. Meeting a girlfriend’s dad was supposed to make you nervous, wasn’t it? But this wasn’t just nerves. This was something else—something sharp and hot that curled low in his stomach.

“Babe, can you grab me some chips?” Lily nudged his side, breaking his stare.

“Uh, yeah.” Eli scrambled to his feet too quickly, brushing his palms on his jeans. He headed toward the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to get out from under Damian’s presence. The air in the living room felt thick, pressing against his skin.

The kitchen was cooler, quieter. He leaned on the counter, trying to steady his breath. His reflection in the dark oven glass looked flushed, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

You’re being weird, he told himself. Get it together.

“Chips,” Lily called from the couch.

“Yeah, got it,” Eli answered, fumbling with the cupboard.

Footsteps behind him made his shoulders stiffen. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. Damian’s presence filled the kitchen before he even said a word.

“Top shelf,” Damian said, voice low and even.

Eli froze, hand hovering over the lower shelf where he’d been looking. Slowly, like a string had been attached to his wrist and tugged, he reached higher. The bag of chips rustled in his hand.

“Good.”

Just that one word. Smooth, final.

Eli’s throat went dry. He turned, holding the bag like it was evidence. Damian was standing a few feet away, blocking the doorway without trying to. He wasn’t smiling. But his eyes… they lingered.

Eli thrust the chips under his arm, muttering, “Thanks,” and brushed past, pulse hammering so loud it drowned Lily’s voice when he handed them over.

Back on the couch, she didn’t notice anything. She was already lost in her phone again, munching happily. The world kept moving, ordinary and easy.

But Eli sat rigid beside her, the echo of that single word—Good—still vibrating in his chest.

Lily was still on her phone when Eli sank back onto the couch, trying not to look rattled. He kept his eyes on the muted TV, but every muscle in his body was tight. Damian hadn’t followed him back into the living room right away. When he finally did, his movements were unhurried, as though nothing had happened in the kitchen. He carried himself like a man who was never rushed, who expected the world to move for him instead.

He lowered himself into the armchair again, reclaiming it like a throne. The leather creaked softly beneath his weight. Eli risked a glance and instantly regretted it. Damian’s gaze met his, steady, unreadable. Just for a second. Then he looked back to the TV.

Eli’s heart thumped so hard he thought Lily might hear it.

A commercial came on, the volume still muted. Lily groaned. “Ugh, this is boring. Eli, wanna pick something else? The remote’s over there.” She gestured lazily toward the coffee table on Damian’s side of the room.

Before Eli could move, Damian’s voice cut across the space—calm, almost casual.

“Hand it to me first.”

It wasn’t a question.

Eli blinked. For half a second, he thought he’d misheard. But Damian’s eyes were on him, level and expectant. The kind of look that left no room for hesitation.

His body moved before his brain caught up. He leaned forward, grabbed the remote, and crossed the room to place it in Damian’s hand.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Lily chirped, not looking up.

Damian didn’t thank him. He just turned the remote over in his hand slowly, thumb brushing the buttons, gaze still resting on Eli as though weighing him. Eli’s fingers trembled when he let go, but Damian didn’t move. He let the silence hang, heavy and deliberate, before finally passing the remote back toward Lily.

Eli sat back down, his face hot.

It had been nothing. Just a small thing. But his chest was tight, his skin prickling all over. He could still feel the weight of Damian’s eyes, the command threaded through that calm voice.

Minutes later, when Lily laughed at something on her phone, Damian spoke again.

“Sit over here.”

Eli’s head snapped up. Damian’s hand rested on the empty space of the loveseat across from him. Not a suggestion—an order, disguised as nothing at all.

“Why?” Eli croaked, instantly regretting the question.

Damian didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to. His gaze stayed fixed, steady, waiting.

Eli’s pulse skipped. His body moved again, unthinking, traitorous. He got up, his legs weak, and crossed the room. The cushions dipped under his weight as he sat where Damian had indicated.

Lily glanced up briefly. “You’re so restless today.” Then she giggled at her phone again, attention gone.

But Damian’s mouth curved, just slightly. Not a smile. Something sharper. Approval.

Eli’s stomach flipped. He didn’t know if he wanted to throw up or… something else.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Eli. He heard Lily laughing at videos, felt the couch under him, saw the flicker of the television, but none of it sank in. All he could feel was the echo of those words.

Hand it to me first.

Sit over here.

So simple. Nothing that should matter. But his body had reacted like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. No thought. No choice. Just instant, burning obedience.

When Lily got up to refill her drink, Eli practically bolted after her, desperate for air. He trailed her into the kitchen, gripping the counter with clammy hands while she hummed and rummaged in the fridge.

Get a grip, he told himself. It’s nothing. He just—he just wanted the remote closer. Just wanted the seat free. Normal stuff.

But the heat in his chest said otherwise. The way his pulse spiked when he heard that voice said otherwise.

“Eli?” Lily glanced at him, frowning. “You okay? You look kinda pale.”

He forced a smile. “Yeah, just—tired, I guess.”

She shrugged, unconcerned, and went back to digging for snacks.

The kitchen door creaked behind them. Eli’s stomach dropped before he even turned.

Damian stepped in, filling the space with his height, his presence. He didn’t speak right away, just reached past Eli for a glass from the cupboard. The movement brushed close enough for Eli to feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint spice of his cologne.

Eli stepped back, but Damian turned his head slightly, eyes catching him. Steady. Knowing.

“You move quickly when asked,” Damian said quietly, almost an observation rather than a statement.

Eli’s throat went dry. “I—yeah, I mean, I was just—”

The corner of Damian’s mouth tugged upward, the barest smirk. Not amusement. Recognition.

Lily straightened from the fridge, oblivious. “Dad, can you grab me a soda too?”

Damian didn’t break his gaze. “Get it for her,” he said.

The command slid into Eli’s ears, low and calm, with the same weight as before. His hand shot out before Lily even noticed, pulling a can from the pack and holding it out.

“Thanks, babe,” she said, grinning at Eli, taking the soda. She didn’t see Damian’s eyes lingering on him, the silent curve of satisfaction there.

Eli swallowed hard, looking down at the floor, face burning. He hated how his chest tightened with something that wasn’t just humiliation. It was sharper. Needier.

Damian didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to. He just left the room, footsteps slow, leaving Eli trembling in the silence he left behind.

That night, the house settled into quiet.

Lily had fallen asleep beside him, curled up against his chest in the narrow bed. Her breaths were soft and even, her hand resting loosely over his shirt. From the outside, it should have been perfect—his girlfriend asleep in his arms, the night still and safe.

But Eli’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling.

The silence pressed in around him, heavy with the weight of the day. He replayed it all again, frame by frame, like scenes burned into his mind.

The way Damian had said it.

Hand it to me first.

Sit over here.

Get it for her.

Not loud. Not harsh. Just calm, controlled, certain he would obey.

And he had. Every time.

Eli’s stomach twisted. It should have been humiliating. And it was—God, it was. But underneath the shame, under the pounding guilt, there was something darker. Something worse.

It had felt good.

His body had responded before he even thought. There had been a strange relief in it, a release in giving up the decision, in doing exactly what he was told. That small curl of approval at Damian’s mouth had lit him up from the inside out.

He shifted restlessly, careful not to wake Lily. His chest was tight, his palms damp against the sheets. His mind wouldn’t stop circling back to the same point: he wanted more.

Not from Lily. From him.

Damian’s voice lingered in his head, low and firm, wrapping around him even in the dark. He could almost hear it again, clear as if the man were standing over him.

Good.

Eli bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. A whisper slipped from his throat before he could stop it, a tiny sound swallowed by the night.

“Yes, sir.”

The words shocked him, but they also lit a spark deep in his gut. Shame and hunger twisted together until he couldn’t tell them apart.

Beside him, Lily stirred, still asleep. Eli lay stiff, breath shallow, heart hammering. He knew he should shove the thought away, bury it, pretend it had never happened.

But he couldn’t.

The echo of those commands followed him into sleep, wrapping chains around his chest. And for the first time, Eli didn’t want to break free.