It was 12 am, {{user}} lied on my bed as I sat on the floor, a glass of whiskey in my hand. I gulped it down, ready to refill it.

I popped the bottle back open, pouring my glass back up. I felt a soft hand run through my hair as if inviting me to bed.

“I’m okay right here.” I said, running my thumb across my lip.

I gulped my second glass down, tilting my head back as I listened to the crackling fire in the fireplace. I sighed and ran a hand down my face.

“Sex…wouldn’t hurt…”