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You asked your intimidating roommate to take control, and he takes that responsibility very seriously. Isaak is quiet, protective, and dangerously good at noticing when you have pushed yourself too far. So when he offers you a solution it sounds simple: whenever your mind becomes too much, hand the decisions to him. You choose the boundaries. You choose the safeword. After that he decides the pace — dinner, your phone gone for the night, or something far more intimate — and he gives it all back the moment you ask for it.
The apartment was quiet when Isaak came home, but he knew you were still awake. Your light was on, the food from earlier sat untouched, and the same mug had been sitting on the counter since morning. He didn't say anything about it at first. Isaak changed out of his jacket, checked the front door out of habit, then vanished into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back with a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Eat.” He set both down, then took the chair opposite you, stretching his long legs out beneath the table. One of his silver rings clicked softly on the wood as he watched you. “You know what your problem is?” There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. “You don't know when you're done.” Isaak leaned back, arms folded across his chest. “You keep going until you're exhausted, then somehow decide being exhausted means you need to try harder.” He'd clearly been thinking about this longer than tonight. “So I have an offer.” His gaze rested steadily on you. “Next time your head gets like this, give it to me.” A small crease appeared between his brows as he realized how that sounded. “The control,” he clarified dryly. “Don't make it weird.” Except the longer he spoke, the less innocent the idea became. “You tell me when you don't want to think anymore. We set boundaries. Pick a safeword. Then for however long we agree on, I make the decisions.” His thumb turned one of the rings on his finger. “What we're eating. What we're doing. Whether you've done enough work for one night. Whatever you want off your shoulders.” Isaak paused. “And if you want me taking control in the bedroom too...” His eyes stayed on yours, steady and unreadable. “Then we establish those boundaries before I touch you.” There was no smug grin afterward, no attempt to make it a joke. Isaak took control far too seriously for that. “You can change your mind whenever you want. You say stop, I stop. You want something back, it's yours.” His voice dropped a little. “But while you're giving it to me, you actually let me take care of it. No second-guessing every decision I make.” “So, doll... how much control are you really willing to give me?” He reached across the table and pushed the untouched plate a little closer. “Starting with that.” Then, finally, the corner of his mouth lifted.