Page 36

Jesus fuck, he’s wasted. His eyes are unfocused as I cradle his cheek in my palm, his skin burning from the alcohol.

“My phonz ded.” He rolls his head out of my grip. “Ani carn’ remember my dorrcode.”

Excellent.

Brilliant.

Wonderful.

After a bit of push and pull, I get him on his feet and tuck him into my side. When we reach the stairs, he hisses at me when I try to carry him, his stubborn streak making a reappearance. What should have been a two-minute trip turns into a slow ten. He ends up crawling up the last three steps on his hands and knees. He somehow manages to walk on his own once we get outside, so I reluctantly let him toddle within arm’s reach.

The walk back to my loft isn’t the most fun experience. Between him trying to wander off, falling over the curb while hissing that he’s still angry with me, and nearly knocking his teeth out on a lamppost, it reminds me why I’m probably not going to make a very good father any time soon. This is what it’s gotta be like, right? Bellamy’s reverted to a toddler.

“Uh-oh,” he announces, his scuffling steps slowing. I pinch the bridge of my nose, huffing out a breath.

“What’s up now?” I ask.

“I’m going to pee.”

Not I need to.

I’m going to.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I mutter under my breath, walking over to him and guiding him into a nearby alley. I gesture at the wall and turn to give him privacy.

Of course, as soon as my back’s turned, I hear a massive crash. I whirl around to discover he’s fallen over a trash can.

“Crap, it’s going to come ouu-uut,” he singsongs.

I peel him off the floor and tell him to hold onto my shoulders while I unbutton him because he’s clearly not capable of doing it himself.

“Turn around, hand on the wall.” Shit, I wish that were as kinky as it sounds.

He braces both hands on the wall and hangs his head, his body swaying, and I realize I’m going to have to help him.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this. This has got to be some divine punishment—the guy I’m hung up on is so blasted I have to hold his dick while he pees.

“I’m going to touch you, is that okay?” I ask, because it feels like the right thing to do.

“Fineee,” he grumbles, spreading his legs slightly. I take that as a yes, so I slip my fingers into his jeans and shuck them down just enough that I can pull the fishnets down⁠—

“Holy shit. Are you wearing panties?” Yes, he fucking is. Little black lace panties. How the fuck am I supposed to unsee that? Jesus fucking Christ.

I turn my eyes skyward as I reach in, pulling him out just in time. He groans as the hot stream splatters against the wall. He must’ve been desperate, because it goes on for an eternity. An eternity of dick-holding torture.

“Done?” I ask, wanting to be sure.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, pushing back from the wall and relaxing against me. I tuck everything away and button his jeans back up, but he’s still pushing all his weight into me.

“You gonna let me carry you yet?” I breathe into his hair, fighting the urge to press a kiss into the blonde waves.

It hits me that I really do need to apologize to him. Properly, for so many things, including tonight. I’ll find the words. I have to.

Finally, the last of his frustration toward me seems to fade, his arms coming up in defeat. There’s no way he’s going to be able to climb on my back, so I spin him around and grab him under the thighs, hiking him up until he’s koala’d around me.

At least this way it won’t look like I’m kidnapping a corpse.

“Just let me help you,” I sigh, eyes starting to hurt from exhaustion. I can hear Bellamy’s attempts to wrestle himself out of his clothes. Evidently, it’s not going well.