Fishing In the Bathtub

This time when Husband found me, I was already on the bed, spread on my stomach, watching T.V. He plopped himself next to me, and we talked for a while, about mundane things: how our days went, what was going on in the world, funny things we'd seen online. After a while, the conversation died down, and I realized we were both in a holding pattern, waiting.
I was waiting for him to give me some kind of sign it was time to give him a blowjob...I had no idea what he was waiting for.

Finally, after a long pause, he said: "Why don't we go downstairs?"
"Why?" I asked, confused.
"So I can drag you back up here by your underpants," he said.
My eyebrows went up a good two inches. "But I'm already here. You don't need to drag me."
"I know," he sighed, "but I like to drag you. This...this is like fishing in a bathtub. There's no hunt."

People tell me regularly Husband and I have a weird D/s dynamic. I don't act submissive all the time; I don't check my behaviors in public. And he hardly seems the stereotypical "Domly" type. I think what makes our relationship seem quirky are our heightened "Predator/Prey" drives. Husband wants me to listen, he wants me to submit....
But not quite as much as he wants me to refuse, so he can make me do what he wants.

Of course, after he said that, it was ON. I clenched my teeth, said "the hunt's not over--the prey hasn't been caught yet," and rolled off the bed. He dove right after me, and we struggled for a while. It ended when he dug his fingers into my temple and pulled my head toward his cock; I locked my jaws, but he pried them open (painfully) and lunged his prick in my mouth. And that, as they say, was that.

Ladies, you want to try to make things interesting? Don't be the fish in the bathtub.