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“Hey, Sunday. I have an idea,” Sparxie said, setting up the table between them for a game of Cosmicon Collective.
“Your ideas are often quite worrying,” Sunday said, trying to brainstorm all the ways Sparxie could turn Cosmicon Collective, of all things, into some sort of scheme.
“C’mon, relax! It’s not like I’m gonna hurt you. And while we’re on the topic, I wouldn’t ever give you up, either. Nor would I let you down, desert you-”
“…Just tell me what you’re thinking.”
Sparxie beamed. “I thought you’d never ask! I was thinking we could spice up the game by adding a little something extra. How do you feel about Strip Cosmicon?”
Incredulously, Sunday repeated, “Strip… Cosmicon?”
“Huh? I know you’re not such a goody-two-shoes that you wouldn’t know what that means. I win, you have to take off a piece of clothing. You win, I have to instead.”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“So, are you game?”
Sunday peered at her warily, and it wasn’t long before Sparxie brought out her secret technique: doe eyes.
“Pleaaaase, Sunday. I really wanna play it with you.” Her teary-eyed expression was perhaps one of the least authentic Sunday had ever seen. Her bottom lip quivered dramatically. “I swear, I’ll repay you however you want.”
Sunday didn’t miss her innuendo, and a thrill went through him despite his reluctance. He didn’t want it to seem like the offer for sex was what swayed him, but there was no point dragging this out any longer. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll play your game.”
Sparxie’s expression immediately became a wicked smile. “Perfect.” More cheerfully, she said, “And, we can even livestream it!”
“No.”
“Aw, fine. You better make this fun for me, okay? I wanna see this Chicken Wing Boy defeathered and naked before the end of the night.”
“That depends entirely on your skill.” He smiled, feeling a little smug. “I hope you’re prepared.”
Sparxie crouched over the table, her smirk half-hidden by the card she held in her hand. “Bring it on.”
Sparxie kept losing.
Much to Sunday’s bewilderment, at that. He was admittedly putting in more effort than usual, but his distraction by Sparxie’s half-naked body surely brought him back down to his baseline skill level.
Sunday hadn’t lost a single game yet, and Sparxie sat across the table wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Her undergarments were mismatched—a fact that honestly touched him, since it showed that she was comfortable with him.
Sparxie usually curated a perfect image of herself, so even this tiny “imperfection” felt meaningful.
Sparxie rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm up.
As Sunday won another game, he said, “Are you losing on purpose?”
“Of course not! If I was, I may as well just give up on the Phantasmoon Games already. I’m just… on an unlucky streak.”
That was true enough. Sparxie had been getting bad dice rolls almost constantly. It seemed like every time she rolled well, it was during a moment that had no impact on the overall game.
Sparxie stood from her chair and posed, showing off her body. “So, do you wanna pick what I take off next?”
“Your bra should suffice.”
“Ooh, saving the best for last, hm? I didn’t know you had a sense for dramatics. Unless you just want to preserve my modesty?”
Sunday didn’t bother trying to hide the way his gaze raked up and down Sparxie’s form. He knew she liked feeling wanted, and it felt good to relax his rigid self-control.
He said, “It’s nothing like that. I’ll only be able to see the results while we play if you take off your bra. Your lower half will be hidden under the table, after all.”
Sparxie giggled. “Aren’t you a smart cookie?” She reached behind herself and unclasped her bra. As Sunday watched attentively, trying to see her breasts being revealed, Sparxie flung the bra at him and it hit his face.
Sunday’s eye stung where it had hit him, and he took the bra off his face, eye twitching. “…What exactly was your goal with that?”
“Oops, sorry!” Sparxie said with her hand to her mouth, not looking the least bit sorry. “I just thought it might be sexy.”
The bra was warm in his hand from Sparxie’s left over body heat. It was honestly kind of sexy, in a way, that he had her bra. It was as if she couldn’t get herself dressed again without his permission.
“I think you were onto something, actually.”
“Oh?” Sparxie’s nipples were visibly stiffening in the cool air.
Sunday stood up and deliberately walked around the room, picking up every single piece of Sparxie’s clothing. She’d flung them around the room earlier as she stripped.
With all of the clothes in a bundle, Sunday sat back in his chair and put the clothes on his lap. “Shall we play another round?”
Sparxie laughed at him, but there was an edge of nervousness in it. “What’s up with that? Are you trying to get to me or something? If you don’t give those back to me, it’s harassment, you know that?”
“Do you want your clothes back?”
Sparxie pouted. “No. I play by the rules, thank you very much. Let’s play another round.”
As they played, Sunday couldn’t keep his eyes off of Sparxie. Unlike before, she was squirming in her seat, looking almost bashful. When he had taken her clothes, he had taken all of her projected confidence along with them.
Her breasts were cold, sprouting tiny goosebumps. Sunday wished to warm them with his hands and mouth.
Sparxie let the dice fall onto the tray, revealing yet another bad roll. Almost whining, she said, “Come on, we both know I’m just gonna lose again. Just let me surrender!”
Sunday shook his head. “We will play out the entire game.” He didn’t often get to see her squirm like this, after all.
“Do you really think I’m embarrassed right now? I’m faking it—faking!”
“Of course. Then it should be no problem to play the rest of the game, yes?”
Sparxie grumbled. “Whatever you say. I should’ve known you get off to stuff like this.”
Sunday raised an eyebrow. “You knew this already.”
“Doesn’t make you any less of a perv~”
Sunday sighed, shaking his head.
In the end, Sparxie did end up losing. She stood, running her thumbs under the elastic band of her panties. “Did you want to take it off, Chicken Wing Boy?”
“I would prefer if you did it yourself, actually. Those are the rules we set.”
“Wow, you make a girl strip and won’t even help out.” Sparxie slowly peeled off her panties and let them fall to the floor. Sunday couldn’t get enough of how uncharacteristically shy she looked.
Sunday said, “Will you hand them to me?”
Sparxie grumbled, muttering something about him being a perverted control freak, and handed the panties over.
Looking away from his eyes, she said, “There. Happy now?”
“I am.”
“Not sure how you’re gonna fuck me while holding all those clothes, though.”
Sunday chuckled breathily, realizing his logical mistake. “I admit I hadn’t thought that far.”
It wasn’t long before the clothes were abandoned, and Sunday’s clothes ended up joining the pile.