Page 61 of False Comeback

Something unpleasant crawled in my stomach, cutting through the lust pounding in my blood. He sounded… kind of strange. Not like himself. What I’d initially thought was tiredness actually almost sounded like…

“Are you drunk?” I asked, my voice thick with dread.

He snorted, the sheets rustling. “Yes.”

“Shit,” I hissed, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Goddamnit.”

He laughed throatily, still sounding sated and relaxed from his orgasm. And drunk. He was fucking drunk. “It’s fine. So when?”

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t think—”

“Please,” he begged quietly, making my chest tighten. “Just once more. Just… so I know what it feels like.”

My brows shot up in alarm. “You’ve bottomed before, right?”

“No,” he breathed. “People don’t… expect me to want it.”

I swallowed. “But you do.”

“Yes. With you. I don’t know why it’s you, but I want you to fuck me, Vince.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

My throat bobbed again as I hoarsely, for some unknown fucking reason, admitted, “Me neither.”

“Please,” he rasped again. “Just once. Then we’ll stop. We won’t do it again.”

Fuck. Fuuuck.

“Okay.” Something like pure excitement swirled in my stomach. “Just once. Just so we can… get it out of our systems.”

“When?” he asked instantly.

“Uh…” I shoved my hair back again, staring at the ground. Part of me—mainly the part throbbing in my pants—wanted to ask for his address and go over there right now.

But obviously I couldn’t do that. He was drunk.

Shit, he might not even want this when he woke up in the morning.

I exhaled slowly and willed my body to calm. I had to be the responsible one here. Which, aside from looking after my uncle, was not really a position I was all that familiar with.

“I’ll text you a time and date,” I told Crossbody. “And if you still want this once you’ve sobered up, we’ll… go from there.”

There was a long pause, before he softly said, “I’ll still want it.”

I huffed. “You’re only saying that now because you’re drunk.”

“No,” he said hoarsely, “I’m admitting it now because I’m drunk.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. This could go very, very badly in the morning. He’d probably end up blaming me for it, somehow. For him calling me, and making himself come while on the phone to me, and admitting that he wanted me to fuck him.

I was sure he’d find a way to make this all my fault, because he was going to be embarrassed and regretful, and he probably wouldn’t even want it anymore once he’d sobered up.

But on the off-chance that he still did…

“I’ll text you,” I said again. “Drink some water and go to sleep.”

“Alright,” he said softly, still pliant and submissive in the way that made me almost desperate to go and see him right now.

Which was a slightly horrifying thought. Me, desperate to go and see him. Crossbody.