The man’s kiss was clumsy and relentless, tasting of stale beer and desperation. His breath, warm and thick, assaulted Dale’s senses, leaving him fighting the urge to gag. He wished he'd never listened to Kirk.He should have trusted his instincts, stayed home, and avoided this dumpster fire of an experience. Instead, he’d ended up in a grungy restroom that smelled like mold, regret, and a hint of lemon-scented cleaner—though the cleaner wasn't working overtime.The man’s tongue darted like a fish flopping on dry land, and Dale was suddenly, desperately aware that this wasn’t how he’d imagined his first time.Dale pushed back, feeling trapped as the man’s lips pressed harder, his stubble scratching Dale’s skin with the delicacy of sandpaper. Panic rose in his chest, squeezing his lungs. He’d gone along with Kirk’s suggestion to hit up a seedy nightclub, hoping it’d take his mind off the awkwardness between them.Kirk was, after all, his best friend, even if he sometimes gave terrible
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