TW: dildo usage, phone sex, anal sex. swearing, praising, degrading
top dream
bottom george
no editing
Finally, the Banter episode was over.
And George was still horribly drunk.
It wasn't that Karl and Sapnap weren't drunk as well— but George was on a different planet. The other two boys had slipped away, just for a second, to go talk to Karls brother and their "behind the scenes man", Sean, which left George alone in the filming room.
And, the Tequila that sat on the brown desk taunted him.
So, he grabbed his empty gatorade bottle, poured in around a centimeter worth of tequila, and took another shot. And another, and just one more to leave him a stumbling and giggling mess.
"M'Wanna call. . . Dream!" George said as he scrolled through his phone, he now laid across the leather couch.
"No dude," Sapnap grabbed George by the wrist. "We've gotta— gotta go get in the Uber. Sean's already left."
George whined. "But M'Wanna call Dream!"
"George." Sapnap narrowed his eyes, and tightened his grasp on George's wrist.
A small sigh fluttered out of George's plump lips.
"Okay, fine, whatever." George slipped his phone back into his jeans pockets and snatched his hand away from Sapnaps. "M'Mad at you."
"Cool with me— let's go, the Ubers waiting."
The Uber ride home wasn't too bad.
Or, for George.
George sat in the middle, with Sapnap to his left and Karl to his right. "Hi Mr. Uber man!" George giggled; the Uber looked back at him and wrinkled his nose.
"Where too?" He turned and faced Sapnap.
"Uhm. . ." Sapnap pulled out his phone. "You know the Hilton Hotel off of Mercury Road?"
The Uber nodded. "Sounds good, man." He began driving, and did his best to ignore George's blabbering but eventually it became impossible too.
"Will you play music Mr. Uber man? You could play. . . hmm. . . I'on know good songs. Karl, do you have a song, hmm?" George leaned his head on Karl's shoulder, peering up at him with fluttering eyelashes.
Karl shrugged. "No."
"Oh, mkay. Mr. Uber man—"
"My names Brad."
"Mr. Brad man, can you please play music? Please, pretty please?"
Brad sighed, and switched on the radio. "How's this?"
"I'on like Harry Styles."
"Oh for fucks sake. . ." Brad muttered beneath his breath; Sapnap chuckled. "What do you like then?"
George hummed. "I like. . . I like lots of music. My good friend Wilbur makes lots of musics and I like it tons— have you ever heard of him? He's in a—"
"Okay George," Sapnap grabbed George's hands, which where raised and began punching the roof. "He's not gonna— gonna play any music." Sapnap hiccuped.
Brad's shoulders dropped.
"But— but I want music!" George whined. He began stomping his feet; he was throwing a fucking tantrum at twenty six years old. "Mr. Brad man— tell Sapnap don't be mean and that you wanna p-play the music!"
