Out of Bounds

7

"Five… Six… Seven…"

The bottles piled up on the table as the people inside the club shouted in unison.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Shiloh felt his world spinning violently. The music thumped against his skull, and the lights above seemed too bright. He blinked and looked at his teammates, only to see them slumped over the table—Theo face down, Kayden leaning back in his chair, Connor half-conscious. Across from them, the Brighton students were in the same state.

The only ones still drinking were the two of them.

When Shiloh lifted his gaze to Archer, he gulped. There were no visible signs that Archer was affected by the alcohol. His posture was steady, his eyes clear, his movements controlled.

Shiloh grabbed the last bottle with trembling fingers and chugged it down, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. The cheers around them grew louder. When he finished, he let the bottle drop onto the table with a dull thud.

A second later, his vision blurred—and he collapsed forward.

Archer calmly drank his last bottle and set it down with precision. He scanned the room, his expression turning cold and authoritative.

"Everyone, the game’s done. You can all leave," he said in a serious tone.

Knowing the influence of the Whitmore family, the crowd began dispersing immediately, whispers trailing behind them as they exited one by one.

Archer frequented the club with his teammates, so he knew the owner well. He pulled out his phone and called Rafael.

"Raf," he said when the call connected.

"What is it?" Rafael asked over the noise.

"How many vacant rooms do you have?" Archer asked, glancing at the unconscious men around him.

"Two, I guess. The others are already occupied," Rafael replied.

"Alright, I’ll take them," Archer said.

However, he needed to separate his teammates from Stathmore’s. It would surely cause trouble if they were placed in the same room together, especially in their current condition.

Archer called over a waiter and gave him instructions. With the help of a few staff members, they carefully lifted the unconscious players one by one and transferred them to the reserved rooms upstairs. Brighton was placed in one room, Stathmore in another.

Once everything was settled, Archer slipped the waiter a generous tip—enough to ensure his silence.

Finally, Archer returned to Shiloh’s side. He bent down, pulled Shiloh up carefully, and supported his weight as the latter leaned heavily against him.

Without drawing attention, Archer guided him toward the back door, exiting the club quietly under the dim alley lights.

Good thing his car was parked nearby. Archer quickly unlocked it and opened the passenger door. He carefully eased Shiloh into the front seat, making sure he didn’t hit his head on the door frame. Once he was seated properly, Archer reached over and fastened his seatbelt securely across his chest.

After closing the door, Archer walked around to the driver’s seat and started the engine, heading toward his unit.

A few minutes into the drive, Shiloh suddenly groaned.

"I feel like puking," he muttered weakly.

Archer immediately stepped on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. He unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed to Shiloh’s side, opening the door just in time.

"I’m... I’m gonna puke," Shiloh whispered.

"I know. I’ve got you," Archer replied, supporting him as he stumbled out of the car.

Shiloh dropped to his knees on the pavement and threw up everything he had drunk earlier. Archer crouched beside him, one hand holding Shiloh steady while the other gently tapped his back.

"Let it all out," Archer said softly.

Shiloh did as told, emptying his stomach until there was nothing left. When he finished, he leaned weakly against the side of the car, breathing heavily.

Archer grabbed a bottle of water from inside the car and handed it to him. Shiloh took it with shaky hands, rinsed his mouth, and drank a few small gulps. The cool water eased the burning in his throat, and he sighed in relief.

"Are you okay now?" Archer asked, studying his face carefully.

Shiloh lifted his head slowly. Even in his drunken state, his glare was still present. He raised his middle finger.

"F-f**k you," he whispered hoarsely.

Archer chuckled, shaking his head.

"Right, it’s my fault," Archer said amusedly. "But it’s also my win," he added.

Shiloh only groaned in response.

"Come on, let’s go," Archer added gently.

He helped Shiloh back into the passenger seat, buckled him in once more, and closed the door before returning to the driver’s seat.

This time, he drove more carefully, occasionally glancing at Shiloh to make sure he wouldn’t get sick again.

They arrived at Archer’s unit without running into anyone on the way in. The hallway was quiet, the lights dim at that hour. Archer quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside, making sure to lock it securely behind them.

He carefully guided Shiloh to the couch and helped him lie down. Shiloh shifted slightly before settling, a faint snore escaping his lips.

Archer chuckled softly.

He went to his bedroom to fetch a clean set of clothes and returned to the living room. Kneeling beside the couch, he gently wiped Shiloh’s face and neck with a damp towel to clean off the sweat and the lingering smell of alcohol. After making sure he was comfortable, Archer removed Shiloh’s soiled outerwear and placed them in a laundry basket.

Once done, he draped a blanket over him and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

When he came out, hair still slightly damp, he went straight to the kitchen. He filled a glass with water, added ingredients for a simple hangover remedy, and prepared some medicine he knew Shiloh would need in the morning.

"What are you doing?"

The sudden voice behind him made Archer curse under his breath in surprise.

"Jesus, what the hell, Alexii," Archer muttered, placing a hand on his chest before turning around.

Shiloh stood a few feet away, swaying slightly. His hair was messy, his eyes unfocused, and his movements unsteady—clearly still drunk.

"What are you doing?" Shiloh asked again, his voice low and sluggish.

"I’m preparing you a drink and some medicine," Archer replied, steadying his tone. "Because I know you’ll be searching for them tomorrow when your head starts pounding," he added.

Shiloh stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words, before taking a small, unbalanced step forward and grabbing his d**k.

"f*****g hell, Alexii," Archer groaned, feeling his d**k harden inside his jersey shorts.

"I don’t do drunk, Alexii," he said, but Shiloh just looked at him cluelessly.

"f**k it, I should have known better," Archer cursed. Before he could take Shiloh's hand off his d**k, Shiloh kneeled and pulled his pants down. Archer gripped the counter tightly as he looked at Shiloh staring at his d**k with so much desire in his eyes.

Shiloh carefully grabbed it and massaged it up and down, making Archer groan, while his other hand skillfully played with his balls.

"Alexii, get up while I still have control," Archer warned, but Shiloh kept playing with his d**k. He was even more surprised when Shiloh took him into his mouth.

"Ahhhh, f**k!" Archer moaned, grabbing a handful of Shiloh's hair. He could feel his tongue swirl around the tip. "f**k it, Alexii," he said while panting.

Shiloh licked along his length and sucked on his balls, pleasuring him.

"Ohhh," Archer moaned once again as Shiloh started bobbing his head. The warmth inside his mouth sent Archer’s mind spiraling. He slowly pushed his head back and forth. Feeling his climax nearing, Archer pulled out and came on the floor while groaning.

"Alexii, damn! That was—" Before Archer could finish his words, Shiloh dropped to the floor, snoring.

Archer couldn’t help but laugh. He took some tissue and cleaned up the mess before lifting Shiloh and placing him on his bed.

"Thanks for that wonderful blowjob," Archer said with a smile, kissing Shiloh on the forehead before putting the lights off.