Club Nights (Michael Clifford)

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Edited: 06/01/19

You stroll into the club, the stench of sweat, booze and cheap sex filling your nostrils. You try to choke back a gag and make your way through the damp bodies to the bar. You order a drink and throw your head back while the liquid burns your throat. You hear someone laugh behind you. You turn and see a guy, about your age with dark black hair which has green highlights, laughing at you. You ignore him and order a second round.

"Make that two, Ross." The bar man nods at the boy in recognition. Now you're just pissed, you really don't want to be chatted up in the bar. 

"What do you want?" You sigh and turn to face him, one hand on your hip. 

"I'm Michael." You hear an Australian tinge in his voice and he sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take ahold of it and firmly shake it. Your heart races and you look at this man with interest. Who are you?

"Y/N." you let go, trying not to think about what you just felt when shaking his hand. 

Your shot comes and Michael gulps in down in one, you do the same. You order two more rounds and Michael asks you to dance. The alcohol is already starting to take effect and so you agree. 

With Michael's hands on your waist and in the darkness of the room, you move your hips and dance with him. He leans in and whispers something but you don't hear it. You're too absorbed in the music, feeling Michael touching your bare back you look up to find him looking at you intently. You smile and before you know it you're kissing, your lips melt together and your bodies start to move to the same beat. 

Michael takes hold of your hand and pulls out to a dark room in the back of the club. He kisses you again, his hands wandering your body, testing your boundaries. You don't stop him when his hand slide up your inner thigh but he doesn't go any further. He just kisses you, on your neck, collarbone, chest. He gently bites the skin around your sternum, you moan and he smiles.

"Lets get out of here," Michael whispers and he grabs your hand.

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