You don’t realize how many holidays involve drinking until you’re trying to avoid them. Even the casual pool party is full of beer. A nice date night almost surely involves wine. Spiked eggnog cor Christmas, champagne on New Years, it’s ubiquitous. St. Patrick’s day is probably the worst as it’s synonymous with DUI checkpoints, green vomit, and cringe-worthy flashbacks about comments you made to that one hot redhead.

Normally, I try to keep busy with projects but there just wasn’t anything this time around. I found myself pacing around the house. I wanted to go out to a bar, have a drink, play pool, flirt with cute Irish boys from across the pond. Just one wouldn’t be such a backslide right? I knew myself though, one would turn into two, two into four, four into 4 am.

I was pacing around the bedroom, trying to push the nicotine-strong craving for booze out of my head and chewing my nails when my boyfriend came home.

“…Baby?” Ben called out, wandering the house until he found me. He was relieved to see I was here, but when he saw my face his clouded up. “Hey Tad, are you alright?”
I huffed loudly and sat on the bed, “Nothing it’s just… ” I raise a hand and then let it fall to the bed. “You know.”
He nods. “The craving is back?”
“Like a beast. Fuck, I can just taste it… like, I can smell the bar and everything.”
Ben stands in front of me. “Cause of Saint Patrick’s Day, huh?”
I nod miserably. “Just one…I just want one…”
He takes my hands in his own. Ben’s been my rock in all of my recovery, and when I plead like this, what I’m really asking is for a distraction. I never expect him to say “fine, only one” and he never, ever has.

Ben kisses my forehead. “How about-” he pushes me backwards and climbs on top of me, straddling my waist while discarding his shirt, “-we stay in, instead. Save us the money we’d waste, and fuck.”
“Mnnn I do like fucking but…you’d finish in a couple minutes, then what?”
The corners of Ben’s lips slide up into a Chesire grin, “Whaaat about if I bottom?”
“…You’re in the mood to bottom?”
“A rare occurrence but yes. And you know how tight I am, could take a while to loosen me up. Maybe a shower first?”
I grab his hips, slide my hands over his bubble butt. “That could take a while…” I agree.
He arches over and kisses me. I can’t help kissing him back. He’s incredibly convincing shirtless, I’m not sure if it’s his nipples or his pecs or what. I pause to inhale some air. “But…but what about after?”

“Well, if we do it right, you’re going to be exhausted, thinking of my hot body instead of a bar. I like to think I smell better anyway, even after sex.”
I snort.
“And, Tad, I thought after we cleaned up, we’d make one of those English breakfasts you love so much for dinner and have a picnic in the living room.”
I look at Ben’s hopeful face as I fiddle with his short strings.

“So… I can either go out, drink too many beers, get sick, hungover, and have to deal with your guilt tripping me the next morning, potentially ruining our relationship; or I can stay in, fuck my hot boyfriend who rarely ever wants to bottom, and then watch him make my favorite meal wearing only an apron? Man, that is a hard choice.” I smile, squeezing his ass with both hands.

Ben grins before he bends over and ravishes me with kisses again. “Your cock has already made the choice I see…”
I huff air through my nose. “Thank god I have a separate brain in my dick that knows what’s good for me.”
“Thaaank god,” he agrees, relief and pride all over his handsome face.

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Text is fictional; the man on top is Jake Bass, the man on bottom is Tommy Defendi. Thanks to annamartinwrites for the names.