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Summary
He’s twenty three; it’s Saturday night—he should be at the club. He should be at some DILF’s house getting his spine snapped or his throat fucked; he should not be about to squeeze himself into his friend’s full bed, half-cut and bleary-eyed, to platonically spoon with his best mate.
“You’re lucky I love you,” Chris tells him.
A door opens downstairs. Then the familiar strum a guitar glides gently to the second storey. His ears perk up. His heart skips. He swallows. So he’s here?
Suddenly Chris has to take a piss. “I’ll be right back, mate,” he says to deaf ears.
Chris gets what he's always wanted and more when he drunkenly stumbles into his best mate's dad's home office one late night.
Series
- Part 1 of dilfsung