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Summary
"Don't," he argues again, but his only move is to pour another double shot of whiskey.
"Spencer," he repeats, lips traveling down the outer lobe of his ear, brushing up against his neck.
When Aaron wraps a hand around his torso, he pushes at it, but doesn’t remove himself from its grip. "I said leave me alone," he grunts, shooting back his whiskey.
"We both know you didn't mean that."
Aaron's voice is smooth, soft like velvet — Spencer can’t stand it.