Raleigh finds himself pushed down on the couch with Chuck in his lap and God fucking dammit he is so conflicted because really, Chuck's right, they shouldn't do this, they've been drinking and it's a terrible idea and what if Chuck's mad in the morning?

It's all kind of negated though; Chuck's kissing all over his neck and jaw and his mouth and Raleigh's losing himself in it, hands wandering, pushing at Chuck's shirt, bunching it up to slide his hands underneath, fingers still cool from the outside air.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers against Chuck's skin, cheek pressing to his temple as his eyes close and the room spins cheerfully, "and I will."