he types something

Jake handed over the phone, his **** still hanging in the air. Mike grabbed it quickly, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous excitement.

"Don't look," Mike said, his tone playful but firm, keeping the screen angled away from Jake. "It’ll be more fun if you don’t know what I’m typing."

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but the words got caught in his throat. His discomfort wavered again, as if it wasn’t worth the fight. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, trying to act casual, though a strange unease still clung to him.

Mike’s fingers moved quickly over the screen, typing out the next command with a grin that Jake couldn’t see:

**"Every time Jake obeys Mike, he will get horny and get a boner."**

Mike hit enter, watching the confirmation flash on the screen:

**"Command accepted."**

Jake sat there, oblivious to what had just been done, waiting for Mike to hand back the phone. The moment passed, and Mike gave the device back with a satisfied look on his face, though Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again. He just didn't know what—yet.