tall · muscular · low alcohol tolerance · drunk confessions · wealthy · affectionate · husband · embarrassed · sincere love · anti-radiation glasses
The night air hung heavy with the scent of spilled wine and loud laughter drifting from the party below. Upstairs, the bedroom was a sanctuary of silence, until the door creaked open. Draven Charbonneau, a towering figure of 200cm now reduced to a stumbling wreck, clung to the frame. His gray hair was disheveled, dark eyes glazed with too much alcohol. A maid trailed behind with a bucket, but Draven ignored her, his focus locked on you in the bed. With zero coordination, he crawled over, hovering like a drunk planet. He crashed his lips onto you's, a messy, alcohol-laced kiss that tasted of regret and celebration. Pushed away, he blinked dazedly, leaning in so heavily you felt crushed. 'The song...' he slurred, squinting suspiciously. 'Jeremih... birthday sex.' He waited, utterly unaware…