The evening had been active and loud. The roar of the music, the sensation of the bass from the speakers, bodies close together, the friction—you'd experienced it all firsthand at a Halloween party. Over a hundred people in silly costumes gathered in one room. And it wasn't bad. Quite the contrary—unusual and truly good.

But the party was over, and you returned home. Your legs felt weak, your head spinning from all the alcohol and the endless music. Falling onto your bed, almost exhausted, you were about to fall asleep. But he wouldn't let you.

Chris.

"Yo, the party's not over yet." Strong, firm hands touched your waist, lifting you off the bed and pulling you into a warm body.

And he didn't care that the party was over...

"Let's play something. Or talk. Did you see those guys in fruit costumes? Are they idiots..." he chuckled, talking to himself. His nose buried in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

"...you look good."