It was a bad idea.

He knew it was unprofessional to be here at eleven at night, about to get wasted and gain a major headache.

He was parked outside one of the most popular strip clubs in the city. It was filled to the brim with dudes going to be perverts and this made him wonder why the fuck he was here.

Yet, he still locked his car and walked up to the front.

What did he want?

To meet a pretty girl and earn a lap dance from her? To get completely wasted and wake up in some whore's bed?

He didn't know but it was too late to turn back now, he was already showing his id to the boy at the front.

He was wearing a suit and he looked tired out of his head. He couldn't blame him much, the music was loud and obnoxious and the incoherent chats echoed around the big room.

It would've given him a headache but he was used to this kind of noise, he was a teacher for fucks sake and children were just the same but high pitch and aggressive with their words.

He took his id back from the front desk boy and stepped inside the large room.

There were stages across a wall and circular platforms scattered in the middle of the floor. Poles hung from the ceiling to the floor and girls in lingerie danced around them, pleasing the old men who sat around them.

George didn't find many of the girls attractive. Sure, they were pretty and all but none of them sparked his interest and made him want to go and sit by one, stare them down and waste his hard earned money.

He knew these girls had a harder life than it looked and he respected them for giving their bodies to horny old men, he really did see their bravery.

But this wasn't about the girls, this was about him.

He slid into a bar stool, raising his hand to catch the bartenders attention.

He was supposed to be professional, he was going to work at a new place just the next morning! If his boss caught him here, he'd never work again.

But something brought him here, something told him he needed to get out, have fun before he never had the chance to ever again.

The first couple shots did nothing but tickle his throat. What did it take for him to lose himself? These drinks were nothing on his consciousness.

Ten drinks later, he was starting to feel it. The tipsy and dizzy feeling in his head and the smile that formed on his lips and stayed there.

He missed getting drunk.

Nothing fazed him when he was out of it. He could ignore his mental health and feelings and just enjoy life in the moment. He didn't live forever so why waste his life away later when he can have all the fun now?

The bartender started to notice his drunk movements because he came by his seat rarely, knowing he would just be asked for more shots.

Who was the bartender to tell him what he could and couldn't drink? It was his body, his night and his choice.

People were definitely staring.

Who knew how long he had been there, grabbing shots and chugging them down like sips of water, ruining his body and head with every drop.

"You gotta stop." The bartender returned and passed him one last shot which he took happily.

He scoffed, setting the glass down loudly and glaring at the bartender. "But why? It's sooo good," He pushed more money towards the man, "Now do your job."

Unfortunate for the bartender, he had to keep serving him.

Maybe three hours had passed and George was now tracing the wood on the bar, hiccuping to himself and holding in tiny giggles that threatened to come out.

A couple of stripper girls had walked past and offered a dance but he turned them down, he knew it would be boring and he wouldn't get hard.

It wasn't like he was gay or anything, he just didn't find women attractive.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, turning on the screen and reading the numbers that shined bright white into his eyes.

2:43

Well fuck, that wasn't good at all.

He had work tomorrow and he couldn't show up looking homeless, he'd probably be fired immediately.

He struggled but managed to stand up and wiped the imaginary dirt off his pants.

He didn't live far, driving should be fine to do and who said drunk driving was hard? You just follow the same rules as normal and it's perfectly fine.

He ignored the protests from the bartender as he made his way back up to the front of the building, his feet carrying him slowly but making distance.

God, now his head was really hurting him and he really wanted to just.. Lay down.

Maybe a small nap wouldn't help, right here on the soft floor.

He closed his eyes, letting his body collapse.

He expected to hit the floor and get the wind knocked out of him but instead, strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back to his unstable feet.

Who had interrupted his nap?

He turned his head up to come face to face with one of the hottest men he had ever seen in his life.

He'd only seen him for a few seconds but the handsome expression and gorgeous facial features he had was an immediate win on his #1 'hottest men ever seen' list.

"Careful, you're drunk as hell," And his voice! It was magical, the perfect roughness for this man and he wanted that voice to ring in his ears for days.

He allowed himself to be stood up by the man who had saved him, still not saying a word. What if he said something stupid? Fucked up whatever future these two had.

"You're hot," He blurted out, covering his mouth to hold in a burp that would definitely had spooked the man away.

Had he really just said that? Now he looked like an idiot and he wanted to run into a closet, dig a hole and bury himself into it until he died.

The man chuckled and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a gentle and warm kiss to his knuckles.

"Come on baby, let me take you home.. You can't drive like this." He released his hand and instead held it out for him to take.

The drunk boy was quick to intertwine fingers with the stranger, squeeze his hand and smile happily.

"Oh, please do.."

What was he saying!? He had met this boy only five minutes ago and now he was trusting him with his drunk state? What if he was kidnapping him, selling him to the black market or have sex with him?

The possibilities were endless but he secretly hoped for the last one.

The man ran a hand through his gorgeous blonde hair before smirking down at him.

"Okay baby, let's go to my house." He lifted him up to his feet and slowly helped him begin to walk across the floor.

It was a slow travel because he kept tripping over his own feet, giggling and letting the alcohol take over his head and make him go absolutely crazy.

The blonde boy didn't seem to care, only chuckling when he did something stupid or telling him to catch up or else he'd leave him on the floor until the morning.

God he didn't want that, he wanted the blonde boy.

He wanted him so bad.

His car was quite nice too, a white Cadillac that seemed too expensive for the drunk boy to ever be able to afford.

As he was helped into the passenger side of the car, the man smiled down at him.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

"George." He slurred, giggling and crossing his feet in his chair, his eyes meeting the blondes and keeping his gaze there.

"I'm Dream, I think we'll have a nice time tonight, don't you agree?" The door was shut before George could answer and the drivers door was opened seconds later.

George was drunk, as it was mentioned before, he had drank way too much.

He was also not gay whatsoever. If anything, he was the straightest man alive! Nobody liked pussy more than George and the thought of a dick just made him sick.

But he was all over Dream. Constantly reaching for his hand and whining when he needed it to turn the wheel. He felt himself growing unconsciously hard just at the thought of those hands wrapped around his-

Dream stopped the car and turned to George, leaning close so his lips brushed against George's ear.

"Come on baby, let me take care of you tonight."

That was enough for George as he immediately latched onto Dream. His arms snaked around the blondes neck and he leaned his head into the others chest.

He hardly felt when Dream picked him up by his thighs and helped him out of the car.

Was this really happening? He had no clue on what he was doing and he'd probably heavily regret it in the morning.

But he should have fun! He should live in the moment like he said, explore new things even though sober George wouldn't have done this at all.

Dream brought them into the house and as soon as the door was shut, George was slammed against it.

He let out a breath of shock and looked up at the person keeping him locked against it.

Dream was so handsome when he was smiling, towering over George as if he was some peasant that deserved punishment.

Punishment when was getting because Dream gripped his chin and lifted it so their lips were merely inches apart, their breaths sharing in the space between.

"Let me treat you, show you you're loved.." Dream whispered, his hand slowly making its way down to George's waistband, holding it teasingly.

George smiled and leaned closer, speaking as he did, "I'd like that."

Their lips met and all hell broke loose.

Whatever conscious George had left was gone as things were quickly escalated.

The kiss wasn't sweet, it wasn't shared with love and no cute giggled were shared afterwards.

Instead, George's body was picked up and carried elsewhere, probably to Dream's bedroom. Lips never broke apart and bodies never stopped trying to find friction.

The bed was cold against his overheating body and George wanted to stretch his limbs on the soft mattress and pass out on it, completely forgetting about Dream.

George opened his eyes one last time to see Dream pinning him down, smirk across his lips and shirt already discarded somewhere else where they'd probably never find.

"You sure?" Dream asked one final time, reaching forward to move a hair away from George's forehead.

George smiled up at him.

"Yes."

-

(edit) it wasn't real consent.. i genuinely hate this book

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