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Even tipsy is too out of control as far as I’m concerned. Not that giving up control is always a bad thing. It’s all about context, and let’s just say that I don’t trust whiskey to respect my safeword.
But I can handle that too. They don’t call me the Ice Man for nothing. Alright, fine, they don’t actually call me that. But they should.
“Well, the joke hardly works if I say I fucked his brother. And it seems wrong as a gay man to claim to have fucked his mom. It’s straight appropriation,”
“I kind of like you too,” he confesses, and a grin tugs at my lips. “Thank fuck for that. Otherwise the stalking and kidnapping would’ve been way out of line.”
