NBA

Give It Back {DeAndre Jordan}

DeAndre's indignant expression as you snatched the control remote from him was one of the funniest sights and you laughed as he reached for it. You kept it out of his grasp, surfing through the channels until you found your favorite show. There was a new episode on tonight and you refused to watch it in your room. Your television was huge, but it didn't compare to the one in the common room. And DeAndre had been hogging it for too long.

"Give it back to me," growled DeAndre.

You ignored how much it pleased you hearing his voice reach that low and scoffed. "You've had the whole day with the T.V., Jordan. I'm going to watch my show now."

"I have a lot to catch up on!"

"You have a T.V. in your room. Go watch over there," you spat back as he tried to reach for the remote once again. You turned your back towards him, skillfully avoiding his hands.

"Give. It. Back." He demanded.

"No."

"That's it!" He lunged at you, arms outstretch and letting his entire body weight fall on top of you. You grunted in annoyance, turning your body around to have your back crash into the couch as DeAndre fell on top of you. Your noses bumped together as he glared down at you.

"Give me the remote," he muttered, his fingers scrambling to grab it from your hands. But you were moving fast and even though he seemed to predict your every move, you always managed to one-up him. It was beginning to frustrate him.

You laughed, a carefree sound that made DeAndre smile despite himself and a lightbulb seem to go off above his head as he got an idea. He suddenly stopped reaching for your hands and instead pulled back to straddle your hips, a devilish smirk on his lips. You immediately arched a suspicious eyebrow.

"Jordan..." you said warningly.

"This is your last chance, babe," he said, voice low. You swallowed thickly. Towering over you, DeAndre looked like he was waiting to be ravished and you had to stop yourself from doing so. Lord knows DeAndre would kick your ass if you ever tried something with him.

You chased away those thoughts and instead sneered. "I'm not scared."

"You should be," he declared. Holding his hands up, he wiggled his fingers around before he brought them down to your sides, attacking you with relentless tickles.

A vociferous laugh erupted from your lips as you squirmed around, trying to avoid his teasing. DeAndre's peals joined yours as he doubled his attack and you kicked your legs. Yet that didn't deter him. He was strong and was using his entire weight to hold you down. You tried to slide out from beneath him but his thighs tightened around your hips and you tried to knee his lower back instead.

Yet it was like hitting a cement wall and you continued laughing, shaking your head rapidly. You knew you couldn't win and finally exclaimed. "Truce! I call truce!"

DeAndre chuckled and relented his attack, his fingers instead holding your sides. Both your chests were heaving from the exertion and you wrinkled your nose up at him. "You're insufferable."

Leaning down until your noses almost touched, DeAndre smirked. "Give up the remote, baby."

You swallowed thickly, his dark eyes captivating you as you took just how breathtakingly beautiful he was from up close. The remote was no longer in your thoughts as you realized the compromising position you were both.

DeAndre seemed to be realizing this now, but instead of pulling away like you expected him to, his fingers tightened around you and he bumped his nose against yours.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered against your lips.

The sensation made you shiver and you gave him a minute shake of your head. He smirked and his eyes fluttered closed before his lips found yours. The remote laid on the floor, long forgotten, as DeAndre kissed you deeply, your fingers threading through his hair and your bodies aligning on the couch.