DMs - Bradley Will Simpson

59.

I can't stop laughing at the photo I'm sorry omg

if only I could take selfies like this and still look attractive

anyway

YOU MAY CONTINUE :)

***

APRIL 7TH 2016

I pushed my body onto Tristan's, and he dug his long fingers into my waist. I moaned, as his tongue ran up along my neck and into my mouth. I couldn't stop.

There was a hard, slow and sloppy knock on the door, but Tristan continued, and I moved my hips down onto his lap and he made inaudible groans into my mouth. After ignoring the previous ones, the knocking got louder, making Tristan shove me off his lap in realisation and I gasped. I put my hands in between my legs, feeling exasperated, and idiotic, and cold now that my body was no longer on his.

"What just happ-" I began but got cut off by Tristan placing his fingers on my mouth to stop me. The door was knocked upon again, this time faster and even louder.

"I'm coming!" Tristan called as he raced toward the brown doors, leaving me in awkward situation - turned on, on his sofa. My lips were swollen, my hair was slightly messy from how Tristan had been gripping it and the heat between my legs was definitely a mistake.

"Bloooody hell," I heard the thick Brummie accent from the hallway, and I came back to my senses.

"Brad?" I yelled, jogging to where the boys were. Brad's eyes were red and bloodshot, the smell of alcohol on his breath. This was a new side to him - one I'd never seen before.

"Hey baby," he slurred, slinging his arm over my shoulder to support himself. "Who's is it?" He motioned, and shook the sleeve of Tristan's jacket.

"Tristan's?" I flushed. "Why are you so pissed?"

"Can I not 'ave a liiiiittle fun?" He squeezed my cheeks. He glanced at my lips, analysing them before he started laughing in between coughs.

"Take him to the bathroom?" I panted to Tristan who nodded, and he finally lifted Brad's heavy arms off me to help him. As soon as they entered the ensuite I heard the sound of Brad's sick flowing down the toilet, and I covered my hand with my mouth.

A good ten minutes later, they both came out, Brad looking slightly less pale. Tristan glanced at me before giving me a sad smile and leaving the room.

"Why did you get drunk?" I repeated to Brad as he lay down, groaning.

"I was with the lads," he flung his arms about, in a sarcastic manner.

"Brad." I warn, walking over to him.

"Who's he?" Brad joked, his eyes shut, a small grin appearing at the corner of his mouth. I lay down next to him, and I leant against his chest. The guilt was already creeping up on me.

"You said you'd message me." I tell him quietly.

"It slipped from my mind - I was celebraaaaaaating." He slurs apologetically. He moves his head down to meet my lips and kisses me, but I push him away. Not because he was drunk, but because of what I'd just done with his best friend moments before.

"I'm sorry, I love you really," he drunkenly mumbled, thinking he'd annoyed me, and placed a kiss on my forehead which seemed to last forever.

I think I'd keep quiet about Tristan for now.