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Summary
“Water,” she warns him as he wrestles with his shoes and falls over onto her shoe rack with a sad meeping sound. “You’re getting water first, and so am I. What on earth got into us, drinking so much…”
“Morgan,” says Spencer’s voice from the shoe rack. “Morgan got into me, I mean, got alcohol into me.” He appears once more, one shoe still on and brandishing a single red heel. “I don’t know what got into you, and I’ve just now realised I’m missing an opportunity to imply that I should be getting into you, not Morgan, although I guess I’ve already made that innuendo. Also, we should try pegging.”
That takes a second to compute, and then a second more because what.
“I think it will help you with your trust issues,” he says with a confusing amount of certainty.
“I’m not entirely sure how me fucking you with a strap-on is going to help me with my trust issues,” Emily manages.