#disco occasionally

Your only goal tonight was to dance, to be somewhere outside your normal existence, and thrive with the current of life surrounding you—the people, the music. You wanted to lose yourself, mind, body, and soul—and that was what you had done. All night, you had moved from tent to tent, as the hours of the night drifted with the songs racing through your veins. You hadn’t gone alone, but somehow, you lost your friends along the way, and when your phone died, you gave up searching, because you didn’t want to suck the fun from the night when you rarely had this kind of chance to let loose and be present like this.

After drifting from tent to tent on a whim, you told yourself this would be the last spot, then you would figure out how to get home, or at least try to find a charger. Earlier, when you found yourself alone, you made friends with a girl named Sam, who was vibing the same way you were, and as you hit it off, you decided to journey through the night together. At some point, she mentioned that her brother was working a VIP tent, and that she could get you in, saying, “I owe you, girl, tonight would have been shit without someone like you to make it fun.” And you laughed, wondering how something like this could not be fun, but then you guessed, based on the way she navigated you guys from space to space—easily setting the mood like a perfectly curated playlist—that she must have done this thing all the time.

The minute you stepped into the tent, you knew it was a different playing ground, the quality of life much different from your own, the kind of people that payed for a good time, yet Sam fit right in, and as she pooled you along you just took it in, not quite ready to dip your feet into the sound experience just yet. That was when you first saw him, not thinking anything of it, just an attractive guy entering and leading a group of his friends into a tent, nothing major, but he stood out, and that was what you noticed right away. As you watched, unable to take your eyes off him, he must have sensed you looking, because he caught your gaze just as he put on a pair of sunglasses, and for a moment he held your stare.

When he finally looked away, you stood there observing his movements, his casual demeanor, like nothing about this was a big deal, yet you could tell it was, you could tell by all the influencers you kept spotting, some even talking at their cameras, even the random celebrities told you that this was the spot to be. Then your eyes almost lost him as he and his group made their way to a small corner of the tent, tucking themselves away, but you didn’t think anymore of it. “Here, take this,” Sam said, dropping a tiny pill into your hand, then shoved a bottle in the other.

“Don’t worry, I tested everything…I saved it for exactly this, because this DJ is the best one we’ll see tonight. Do you see all these rich idiots? They’ve paid thousands of dollars to be drugged out of their minds on whatever tickles their fancy, but tonight, dude…tonight we’re going to live like we’re one of them...and this Molly is just the trick.” And as you stared into her big brown eyes, something about the way she was looking at you made you want to do anything and everything that came out of her mouth just to match the energy she was giving.

Then your gaze dropped to the pill, already sticking to your sweaty palm, and she said, “Listen, this is my brother…” When you looked up, a guy with eyes similar to Sam’s was standing across from you, giving an assuring smile as if he were completely at home in this situation. “This is Josh, okay, take a picture of his face…If we get separated, you can trust him, I promise…” she told you, popping her own tiny pill into her mouth, and you watched as she chased it down with water. 

And for some reason, without another thought, you did the same, so that you could free up your hand to grab your phone, and as the pill hit your tongue, the salt from your palm flashed across your taste buds, followed by the acrid taste of sulfer, and your water was opened in seconds, just to get the foul taste out of your mouth. It had been years since you rolled last, not since college, you weren’t necessarily a chicken, it just wasn’t normally your first choice, and it’s not like it was ever offered in the settings you found yourself in these days, so you thought, why the hell not, you could live, you could take chances.

“Smile, Josh!” you told,” Your heart pounding from the surge of adrenaline your simple choice brought you, yet you knew it was a risk, and you could feel it surging to the tips of your fingers as you took the picture. 

Josh’s grin widened as he looked into the lens of your phone, and you snapped the picture, then you shoved the phone into your pocket, thinking something told you this wasn’t his first time playing guardian to his sister’s newfound friends. “Have fun, ladies,” he said, already melting back into the shadows of bodies behind him, and before you could process anything else, Sam’s fingers were lacing through yours, her grip firm and sure as she pulled you toward the pulsing heart of the tent.

“Come on,” she laughed, and there was something magnetic about the way she moved; you had felt it all night, her alluring gaze, her captivating smile, reeling you in like she was already riding the wave you were about to catch, “Let’s get lost in this.”

The energy was already there as the crowd swallowed you whole, heated bodies pressed close in the humid darkness, and for a moment, you felt that knowing glint of uncertainty, because of course, you didn’t know these people, hadn’t been this embedded in a world of circling drugs and VIP anything, or been this close to a drug dealer, who just happened to be your new friends brother, who was casually dealing to the wealthy with a wink and a smile. But then Sam spun to face you, her soft hands finding your waist, and gosh, her eyes were so bright and inviting, making your chest tight with the anticipation of what this night could bring.

“Hey,” she said, her mouth moving closer to your face, her breath on your cheek, “Try and loosen up, okay? We were having so much fun earlier... don’t think about anything else. Just let it all happen.”

And she was right, you guys had been having fun all night, almost instantaneously, the two of you sharing this undeniable chemistry, the way she had been so attentive to you all night, this complete stranger, like you guys had been friends your whole life. And now, maybe it was the way she said it, or maybe it was already the beginning of whatever was in that pill, but suddenly the fear was dissolving like sugar on your tongue, sweet like her smile, warm like her touch, turning into something headier. Then the bass line dropped, and you felt it thrum through your bones, and when Sam started moving, she pulled you closer, your hips meeting hers, and you moved with her, just like before, as your bodies found the rhythm. When your eyes met hers, you shared a knowing smile, something familiar, something you didn’t know you were craving.

Then that was all there was: just the breath filling your lungs and the blinking flash of the strobing lights overhead, smearing everything in hints of neon pink and electric blue—your mind solely focused on one thing, just the girl before you, watching as the light illuminated the gorgeous features of Sam in a fractured, brilliant hue—every detail—the sheen of sweat glowing across her collarbone, the way her long brown hair stuck to her neck, and every so often she would gather and lift it, allowing what little air was circulating to graze her damp neck. Then you would watch as it fell, in awe as the long strands hit her shoulders—and god, she was like magic, easily the most beautiful person there—it was everything—her touch, her focus, how her hands seemed to know exactly where to connect, making you forget everything except this moment.

And maybe this was the moment you truly let go, because you weren’t sure when the dancing had become something else, when the space between your bodies disappeared entirely, when her thigh slipped between yours, and your fingers tangled in her hair.

All at once, she was air and life, and everything that you needed, because around you, even as other bodies pressed closer, all the random hands brushing against your arms, your back, Sam seemed to be the one who anchored you—Sam, whose soft lips were suddenly so close to yours, so close you could taste the sweetness of her breath. She was like the drink of water you needed, because suddenly you were so thirsty, so fucking thirsty, and your only thought was maybe a kiss could be the only thing that could quench your thirst. She was tantalizing, the softness of her curves luring you closer and closer, as the crowd moved as one organism, swaying and pulsing to the beat, and you were part of it now, melting into the mass of heat, sound, and touch, as everything began to feel different—everything liquefying under your fingertips, like skimming your fingers over the surface of water, colors and sounds bleeding brighter at the edges of your vision, as every brush of skin against skin sent sparks down your spine and vibrated through your entire body, slowly awakening each tiny cell one bye one with each breath that you forced in.

Then Sam’s hands were on your face, your eyes drinking her in as your mouth went completely dry. Her thumbs were tracing your jaw, each touch making the skin come alive in it’s wake, as you felt the pulsing hum building between you, her thigh lifting between your legs, flush to the cotton panties under your short dress, as your clit pulsed with a racing need, your whole body canting toward her, pulling at that inevitable pull that had been there all night—and as her mouth inched toward yours, your heartbeat raced through your body, making your lips and face numb, your eyes blooming wider, as your vision narrowed to just her—and you thought, how crazy it was that fear even exsisted, how quickly it could dissapate when the heart knew what it wanted. Because you wanted this; wanted to feel the supple softness of her lips pressed to yours, as your grip on her hips tightened, afraid that if you let go, she might disappear.

In that aching breath of need, time seemed to drip like honey down your spine, each second becoming minutes of sweet desire, as you felt the chemical warmth ripple and spread like tiny waves through your veins, making every sensitive sensation sharper and deeper, more intense, and just as her lips were brushing yours, just on the sweet edge of a kiss—your legs clamping around her thigh tighter—a voice cut through the moment like a knife, and suddenly there was a guy beside you, his energy too eager, his pupils blown. “Hey—sorry to cut in, ladies—but you guys look like you’re having a good time—do you know where my friends and I can score some dust?”

Then he gestured back toward the corner of the tent, and your eyes followed automatically, past the writhing bodies and the fog machine haze, to where a small group stood apart from the crowd. And there he was—the stranger from earlier, sunglasses still on despite the darkness, and there was something about his posture that made him seem both part of and separate from everything happening around him, a mystery that loomed around the glow of his body as the light hit his face, and then he smiled, and you couldn’t force your eyes away, it was like his stare was a thread taking root, and you wanted to be closer, just to know, just to hear the sound of his voice. 

When he nodded back at you, your breath caught in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned into Sam, your lips brushing her ear as your hands found her arm, grazing over the soft skin that felt like velvet, as your fingers slowly worked their way to her hand, and laced through them. “I saw that guy earlier,” you whispered, your words coming out breathless, now honeyed with a new want you didn’t quite understand. “I think I want to dance with him.”

The molly was hitting, you could tell by the weight of the words rolling off your tongue, lapping like waves of euphoria, making your skin feel like it was made of stardust glittering under the lights flashing above you, as your eyes slowly left his, and when Sam turned to look at you, her pupils were wider, as a giddy laugh bubbled up from her throat, and you both started giggling, the laughter taking over, the feeling so powerful you couldn’t stop as you felt it burst bright behind your eyes—everything was suddenly hilarious and perfect, and beautiful, the feeling almost too much, but in the best way.

“Oh my god,” Sam breathed, her hands still on you, still holding you close even as she turned back to the guy who was waiting, and you buried your face into her neck, feeling playful, feeling shy. “Take my friend with you. Then meet me by the DJ booth.” She blurted, her voice sticky-sweet with her own high, as her words ran together. “I know where to find some.” 

Your face ripped from her neck in a dizzying haze, as you watched the guy’s face light up. Then Sam was pressing a kiss to your cheek, whispering, “Go have fun, baby, get what you want,” before she was slipping away into the crowd, probably heading back to find Josh, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering and your skin on fire, the stranger’s friend already reaching for your hand.

And as you took it, you felt like you were entering a different world, one where the ledge of freedom was boundless, where danger didn’t exist—where the temptations of your desires were slowly unfolding before you.

His friend’s hand was warm in yours, his grip loose but guiding, as he pulled you through the crowd like you were made of water—your body flowing effortlessly between the swaying mass of people, making each brush of skin against your bare arms send little ripples of sensation cascading down your spine. All you could see was the flashing lights and the stranger’s destination ahead, like the sea of bodies were parting just for you, as the glinting rays of violet and gold lingered in your vision, seeping into trails of light that glimmered at the limits of your eyesight, making your body pulse. And then you were there, crossing the lucid threshold into the corner of the tent where the stranger and his friends had carved out their own little world, and when you finally stood before him, everything else seemed to fall away.

He was already looking at you, like he had been waiting, like he had known you were coming all along. Up close, he was even more striking than you had thought—tall and lean, his body loose and relaxed in a way that made you want to melt into him, and when he smiled, dimples dipping, it was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Then he was taking off his sunglasses, revealing the true nature of his eyes, and god, they were green—the kind of green that made you think of jumping into deep water on a sunny afternoon in the heart of summer—and the way they were looking at you now, had your stomach flipping with the waves running through you, making your heart beat with the rhythm of his energy—an energy that you could feel yourself ready to consume.

“I’m Harry,” he said, leaning into your ear, his voice low and warm, cutting through the pounding bass like it was nothing, like his voice was already part of a song you were listening to, and then he leaned in even closer, his stubble grazing the sensitive skin near your ear sending chills up your arms, as you caught the clean scent of mint, and something earthy under the sweat and the smoke that clung to everyone around you—and then his hand was finding your waist, pulling you gently into the pocket of space beside him, away from the crowd, tucking you both into the shadows like a secret, like being close wasn’t enough, like he already needed more of you. Because maybe it was the drugs, or you were just horney, but even the slightest touch had your body vibrating, like an instrument he was tuning, playing each note, making your body sing out, desperate for more, for anything and everything, all at the same time.

And when he said “I noticed you,” his lips brushed your ear as his warm breath ghosted over your skin, making every tiny hair stand on end. You shivered, the racing sensation shooting up the back of your neck, and burst with the pulsing lights overhead, making you gasp and cling to his arm, as a wave of sound swelled through your body, then crashed low in your belly and spread outward like a slow fire. “When I first came in. You were standing by the DJ Booth—you looked like you were ready to have fun. I think I saw you take something…”

You turned your head to look at him, and the movement felt slow, like the thick liquid of syrup, like time itself was stretching and bending around you, and when your eyes met his, you felt that tether again—that invisible thread that had been there from the moment you saw his from across the tent—pulling taut between you, anchoring you to this stranger whose name you now knew but nothing else.

“Yeah…it must have been after I lost track of you,” you told him, and your voice came out different than you expected, softer, breathier, glazed with whatever was rolling through your bloodstream, making everything feel more, feel deeper, feel like it mattered in a way that nothing had ever mattered before. “I noticed you too...I was curious…”

His smile widened, and there was something knowing in it, something that made you feel like he could see right through you, like he understood exactly what was happening inside your body, the way the chemicals were cresting and falling like waves against a never-ending shore—and you watched as he tilted his head, those green eyes gazing at you with a magnetic focus that was stealing all your consentration, so intense it made your breath catch, and then he leaned in again, his hand tightening on your waist just enough to draw you closer.

“May I ask what you took?” he questioned, and there was no judgment in it, just curiosity, just a genuine desire to know.

“Molly,” you breathed, and suddenly saying it out loud made it feel more tangible somehow, more aware of the way your heartbeat was thrumming through every inch of your body, or the way your skin felt like it was humming with static—teeny, tiny little electric beats, dancing and swaying with every touch and sound even as you were completely still. “My friend, Sam, gave it to me. Her brother—”

“Oh, yeah—Josh.” Harry said, completing your sentence, nodding as if he understood, “Sam is usually with him, but never with a friend, not like this…” He said, pulling back as his eyes roamed down the length of your body, like his intentions were being set, like this was all perfectly normal, and maybe it was, in this world, in this tent packed full of rich humans doing lavish, careless things. “He’s a good guy. We all know him. You’re in good hands.”

Then he reached behind him, his body shifting, and when his hand came back, he was holding a metal bottle, and he held it out to you like an offering. “Here. You should drink some water…stay hydrated.”

You looked at the bottle, then back at him, and something playful blinked through you, cutting through the haze of want and warmth just enough for you to raise an eyebrow. “I know better than to take drinks from strangers,” you teased, as a flirtatious streak inched through you in a way you hadn’t quite intended but didn’t regret.

Harry laughed, and the sound of it did something to your brain, made your chest feel tight and giddy, made you want to hear it again and again until you had memorized every note. “Smart girl,” he told you, and then he was bringing the bottle to his own lips, tipping it back, and you watched—spellbound, and fucking hypnotized—as the water slipped into his mouth, as the long column of his throat worked with each swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that made your mouth go completely dry. Then a single drop escaped the corner of his lips, trailing down his chin, catching the light right before he swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, and slowly dragged it across the swell of his bottom lip—and you felt your thighs press together involuntarily, felt that aching throb between your legs begin to quake.

When he lowered the bottle, his heated gaze found yours, his stare bringing something darker, more intentional, and you licked your lips without thinking, suddenly so thirsty, but not just for water—for something else, something more—your mind already reeling over how quickly the heart’s desire could shift, could want something new, something overwhelmingly different, in the span of a single breath.

“Your turn,” he rasped, his voice rough, and he pressed the bottle into your hand.

Without hesitation, you took it, feeling the cool metal surge through your palm, and slowly—still skeptical—you brought it to your mouth, never taking your eyes off him. When the water hit your tongue and slid cold and crisp down your throat, it was incredible, like the best thing you’d ever tasted, so damn good that you actually moaned, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation broke through you like a dam opening—the cold rushing and spreading through your chest and meeting the heat in the boom of your belly, creating something electric, something that flashed and fizzled along every nerve ending until your toes were curling inside your shoes and your eyes fluttered half-closed from the pure relief of it.

Suddenly, the water was sacred, and reviving, and you drank deeper, not caring anymore how it looked, or when the water overflowed past your lips and spilled down your chin, trailing cold paths down your neck, and pooled in the hollow of your throat before continuing down, like a river, slipping between your breasts and into the cleavage of your dress, and soaking into the fabric, but it felt so good—the cool only amplifying the vivid waves coursing through you. You would have poured the entire bottle over you if you hadn’t felt like you needed it more. In that moment, you had no shame, you didn’t care because you could see the way Harry was watching you, the way his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, the way his eyes tracked every drop of water as it made its journey down your body, and you knew—Because you could tell by the way he was looking at you—that he liked what he saw.

When you finally lowered the bottle, gasping, your chest heaving, Harry took a step closer again, eliminating what little space had crept between you. His hand came up to your face, and for a second, you thought he was going to touch you, and then thought you might actually combust if he did, but instead, he just brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth, catching the last lingering drop of water there.

“Better?” he questioned, but you could only nod, your voice lost somewhere in the rush of your own heartbeat.

Then his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you in, and you went willingly, your body moving like it had been waiting for exactly this, like every step you had taken tonight had been leading you here, to this corner, to this stranger named Harry who was looking at you like you were the only person at the entire festival, and now all you could feel was the heat radiating from his body, could feel the solid warmth of his chest against yours, and when he started to move, guiding you with him, his motion was slow, matching the rhythm of the bass still pounding through the tent, and strangely enough, despite all your fear and shyness, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—for his strong hands to be holding you against him, while swaying in time with the breath leaving your body, as your bodies began to find the same pace—the gesture was entrancing, intimate, as your body sang out, moving in sync with his.

As your connection grew, time became this mystifying concept that stretched and veered like elastic, as fluid as the movement of each sounding beat, pulsing through the space, expanding and contracting like lungs taking in air, flowing in and out in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, there you were, you and Harry somehow existing in your own realm, your own private world etched out from the chaos around you, as the dancing became talking, became touching, became something that had no name, just a feeling. His hands moved across your hips, then your waist, then traced up your sides in a way that only made you want more—and when the words stopped, all that told you of the man pressed against you was the way he moved—the way your bodies fit like matching pieces, melding together into the shape of one being, forging a familiar connection, the kind you only ever felt after sex—Because who was this mysterious man who seemed both completely at ease and somehow watchful, like he was used to being looked at but not used to being seen, yet he let you watch him, didn’t shy away, and that only made you more intrigued.

And all the while, the waves kept coming—rolling through you in peaks and valleys, each one making your skin feel more alive, more sensitive, more desperate for contact. Every brush of Harry’s fingers was like a tiny explosion of pleasure, sparks cascading down through your body, making you gasp and lean into him, and you could tell by the way his breath would catch, by the way his pupils would blow wider in the darkness, that he felt it too—that maybe he was on something similar, or maybe you were just that intoxicating to each other.

“There you are!” a familiar voice shouted, cutting through the captivating haze of Harry’s presence. Reluctantly, you turned, and the movement felt like swimming through honey, to find Sam emerging beside you. Your eyes scanned over her, reacquainting with the features that had stolen you so entirely earlier—her flushed cheeks, her glowing beauty, that wide and wild smile that had drawn you in from the start. She was holding something in her hand, her fingers curled around it protectively, and when she looked between you and Harry, her grin turned knowing.

“I see you’ve been making friends,” she said, and then she was pressing close to you, her body fitting against your other side, and god, the sensation of being sandwiched between them—between the soft curves of Sam and Harry’s strong stature—made your head spin in a frantic frenzy to hold onto every feeling buzzing through you.

“I brought you something,” Sam continued, and when she opened her hand, there were three tiny pills nestled in her palm, catching the fractured light of the changing strobes above. “Round two. For the best part of the night...” She told you, leaning closer, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You looked at her, then at Harry, who was already plucking one of the pills from her palm with a casual ease that said he had done this before, probably many times, that this was just another night in a life that seemed as foreign, and beyond any concept in your mind, like wishing on a distant star, hoping that the wish would come true. He raised an eyebrow at you, a silent question, and something in you, maybe some last lingering thread of caution, whispered that this was probably too much, maybe even too fast, or even the exact kind of thing you would regret in the morning—

But then Sam was pressing the tiny pill into your hand, and her fingers lingered against your palm, and god, all you could think was how beautiful she was, as she looked at you with those big brown beautiful eyes, and Harry, dammit, he was looking at you too, and the music was pounding and the lights were flashing, and fuck, weren’t you already so far from the person you had been at the beginning of the night? And in that split second, the distance from you now, and that person then felt unbridgeable—you were already here, you were already doing this, and now you were going to see it through.

“Together,” Sam yelled, holding up her own pill, and Harry did the same, and all of the sudden, it felt like a ritual, felt like a pact, felt like you were sealing something between the three of you that couldn’t be taken back, a contract that would be set for the rest of the night.

And so you raised your pill, brought it to your lips, and when all three of you swallowed at the same time, you felt something shift in the air around you, felt the charge in the power of choice, an electricity rising with the knowing—the thrill gesturing a promise of what was to come.

The next wave hit harder than the first, building and building until you felt like you might burst at the fucking seams with it, like whatever you had felt before was happening ten times over—you had no control, you were letting it take you, your body moving to the beat as you danced. Before long, Sam’s hands were finding your body again, the two of you picking up where you had left off, your attraction peaking as she pulled you into her. Her hands moved to your face, and then her mouth met yours again, but this time with no reservation. The kiss was soft, slow, as her lips melded to yours, as if the wave rolling up her spine was in sync with your very own, and as it crested, you felt the hunger set in. 

Because then her tongue was sliding across your lips, asking for permission, until you opened for her, letting her in, as every ounce of her energy poured into you, and your tongue basked in the sweetness of her mint-stained breath, letting it all rush to your head. All you could think was how perfect, how fucking good it was, as you moaned into her mouth, your desperate hands already seeking her waist, her hips, the curve of her ass through her thin dress, and you gripped, pressing her closer, and her thigh slid between yours just like before—just like those moments before everything spiraled into something else.

The energy was still shifting, settling into whatever silent pact the three of you had formed, because as you were getting lost in Sam your body was still aware of the heat at your back—the feeling unwavering and sure, as you felt Harry’s chest press into you harder, felt his heated breath on your shoulder, as his hands found your hips from behind—and there you were caught between them now, poised between Sam’s softness and Harry’s strength, as your body became a vessel for sensation, for pleasure, for every overwhelming feeling that was crashing through you like a fury of power you never knew existed.

Harry wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, as his lips brushed your shoulder, your neck, leaving tingling trails of vibrations in their wake. His hands were searching, moving down your body in a slowed frenzy, taking his time until he slid his large hand down between you and Sam’s bodies, and you gasped into Sam’s mouth as his fingers found the space where your hips met Sam’s thigh, and when he pressed, when they both pressed, you choked on your moan, your whole body jolting with a pleasure so overwhelming and sweet it edged on an aching pain to be ruined. Yet, there was Sam, swallowing every sound, each one only making the kiss deeper, as her hand came up to tangle in your hair, and you felt Harry’s other hand slip around to your stomach, pressing you back against him, letting you feel the heat of him, the hard, bulging want of him against the curve of your ass, and you pressed into it.

You were lost, completely, and utterly lost in a universe they were creating, each body connecting and moving until you had no clue where you ended and they began, as your mind losttrack of everything except the rhythm of your three bodies moving together, finding a pace that was entirely your own in a tent full of strangers—Sam’s mouth, Harry’s hands, the throb between your legs that was mounting and climbing with every brush of flesh, every whispered word, every roll of hips. At some point, your bodies had shifted, and you realized the bare thigh between your legs was Harry’s, and now, it was pressed against you, pressed against the thin wet fabric of your panties, and without thought you were grinding against it without shame, chasing the friction, chasing the relief that was building like a scream budding at the back of your throat.

Your mind kept moving through pockets of reality, moving as fast as the bass pounding through you. As the second pill hit its peak, Sam and Harry’s faces became a blur—who was kissing who, whose mouth was on yours now, whose hands were where, you didn’t know. It was euphoria and madness competing, and you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open through all the pleasure, through all the moments when your body felt like it would explode from another touch, but then a kiss was breaking, and someone’s mouth was leaving yours, and when you forced your eyes open at a moment of control, it was Sam again, and you both stood there panting, and she pushed her forehead to yours, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her smile so beautiful it made your chest ache. “God, Girl…” she breathed, “you’re so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.”

And then Harry was there, his mouth at your ear, his voice a low rasp that rippled through your entire body. “She’s right,” he said, and his hand was moving now, sliding down from your stomach, down over the front of your dress again, down to where you needed him most. “You’re fucking stunning.”

His hand began to move, and suddenly, you didn’t know who to turn to, who to kiss, who to cling to—you wanted them both, wanted everything they were giving you, wanted to drown in the sensation of being wanted by two people at once, of having your cup overflow with attention and desire and the touch of hands that were needy for you. And they seemed to understand, seemed to read you flawlessly, because they kept moving with you, kept touching you, kept making you feel like you were the center of the galaxy opening up between the three of you.

As you shifted again, Harry guided you backward slowly, his hands gentle on your waist until you felt the cool press of the tent wall against your back, tucking you into the darkest corner of their little section, hidden from view by shadows and bodies and the sheer mess of the crowd beyond. Sam followed, her body now pressed against your front again, as Harry moved behind you, letting his weight rest against the tent wall, sandwiching you once more. It was; something about this change felt safe and dominating at the same time, as the heat of their bodies burned through you.

Sam kissed you again, taking each movement slower this time, more intentional in the way she moved. Then Harry’s hand slid down to cup you through your dress, his palm pressing against your throbbing core, and you whimpered into Sam’s mouth, your hips rolling into his touch without conscious thought, as his fingers began to move in slow circles, elevating the pressure, slowly rising and swelling, and you were already so close, had been close for what felt like hours, and everything was heightened, every sensation amplified a thousandfold until you couldn’t tell if you were coming, or if you had been coming this whole time, but still you wanted more. 

And this time, when Sam pulled back from the kiss, her lips trailed down your jaw, down your neck, sucking at the pulse point gently, and you let your head fall back against Harry, let your eyes flutter open just enough to see Harry’s face above you, his green eyes dark with want, his lips parted, his breath coming faster now. And when he leaned in to kiss you, it was nothing like kissing Sam—it was harder, hungrier, his tongue demanding entrance, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a way that made you cry out against his mouth. His fingers kept moving, kept pressing, kept circling that spot that was driving you insane, and you were climbing, surging toward something you could barely comprehend.

Sam’s mouth was drifting, pressed to your collarbone now, her tongue tracing the line of it, and you felt her hand slide down to cover Harry’s, felt her guide his fingers more firmly against you, and the combined pressure made your knees buckle, made you grateful for the sturdy hold of Harry’s body and the way their bodies were holding you up.

“I want to watch him make you come,” Sam whispered, lifting her mouth to your ear, and fuck, her words were like striking a match, like pouring gasoline over fire, and you had to reach down, had to grab Harry’s wrist and still his hand, because you were right there, right on the edge, and you weren’t sure you could survive going over just yet.

“I’m going to go dance with his friend,” Sam continued, pulling back to look at you, her eyes encouraging and mischievous at the same time. “But I’ll be watching…”

You nodded, at a loss for words, and your body trembled with the effort of holding back, of not letting go right there with both of them still pressed against you. Sam smiled that smile—that sexy, knowing smile that had reeled you in from the very beginning—and pressed one last kiss to your lips, soft and sweet, lingering just long enough to have you wanting. 

Then her gaze flicked to Harry, and something passed between them, some wordless communication that you were too far gone to interpret. “Have fun,” Sam said, and then her gaze swept back to you, and her smile widened, and she was slipping away, just like that, melting into the crowd as if she had never been there at all, leaving you alone with Harry.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Harry’s hand was still between your legs, motionless and waiting, his body rigid with the tension of holding back, his restraint barely steady, like he was holding himself accountable by sheer force of will. And you realized, in that moment, that you needed to tell him—needed him to know—because suddenly the wanting was too much, was consuming you from the inside out, because if he didn’t touch you, you might die.

“I want you,” you said, turning to face him, your voice wrecked, but you knew he heard it, knew by the way his eyes flashed in the darkness. “Don’t stop, okay? Whatever you do, just please don’t stop.”

He nodded, and without pause, he was moving, switching your positions, until your back was flush against the wall, and he forced his body against you, solid and heavy, the perfect weight and pressure. His thigh moved between your legs again, and you could feel the hard length of him against your hip, could feel how much he wanted you, and the idea of his dick made you dizzy with power and need.

“I won’t stop, this is your warning,” he forced, his voice rough, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Let go for me…I’ve got you, okay…”

And then his hands were at the hem of your dress, sliding underneath, his fingers finding the waistband of your soaked panties, the material rendered useless and ruined, evidence of everything you had been feeling all night. He hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled, slowly, dragging them down your thighs as your body shivered with the anticipation, as his steady hands moved past your knees, until you were stepping out of them, and you watched, breathless, as he balled them up in his fist and shoved them into his pocket as if they belonged to him now.

“For later,” he said, and the promise in those words made your clit throb so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning out.

Then he was pushing his thigh up to your bare pussy, and when you looked down you notice the hint of a tattoo, peeking from where the hem of your dress had bunched, and holy fuck, this guy was so hot, you thought, as his skin heated seeped into your slick folds—and as his hands grasped hold of your hips, gripping hard enough to gain control, his eyes bore into yours with a hunger that made you feel like you were never going to be the same again.

“Take what you want…what you need, love,” he said. “Use me.”

And so you did…

Because then you were rolling your hips, letting the slick of your pussy coat the damp skin pressing into you, as you ground against the hard muscle of his thigh. The friction was glorious, was everything, was the answer to every question your body had been asking all night. As you grabbed hold of his shoulders, you noticed Harry was watching you, and you took inventory, taking in the hard line of his tight jaw, his ragged breath, the way his hands were guiding, but not controlling, letting you set the pace, letting you chase your own pleasure while he held you steady. 

You knew it wouldn’t take long; you could already feel it building the second he stole your panties—that wave, that fucking crest that felt boundless. Your body was climbing higher and higher, as you rocked and ground your hips against him, bearing your weight into his strong thigh, as your fingers dug into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as the pleasure spiraled tighter and tighter, puddling into liquid molten, your pussy making a mess of him.

“That’s it,” Harry groaned, his voice straining, as his thigh flexed beneath you. “Fuck, Love, you’re so wet—I can feel you—you’re close, aren’t you?”

But, you couldn’t answer, could only whimper, could only nod, could only keep moving, keep chasing, keep reaching for that edge that was so close now you could taste it, could feel it aching through your gritted teeth as you forced back your moan, holding your breath because you knew this was it—that you were going to take it, your hips gliding with such ease against his soaked skin, and just as you were about to tell him, felt the words about to burst from the back of your throat—he pulled his thigh away without warning. 

And fuck, the sudden loss of pressure made you cry out, made your eyes fly open, made you reach for him with desperate hands as you found your footing—but he was already there, already catching you, already sliding his hand between your thighs to replace what he had taken from you. His fingers slid to your entrance with ease, your pussy so slick and ready that he groaned at the contact, and when he pushed two long fingers inside you, you nearly shouted his name, as the stretch and the fullness sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating out through your entire body.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, and then he was moving, his fingers curling inside you, working you, inching toward that spot that made stars bloom behind your eyes, as his thumb pressed into your pulsing clit, and you moaned into his shoulder, your whole body screaming with pleasure as you rolled your hips to meet his hand, and you lifted your leg to wrap around his hip, to pull him closer, to drive his fingers deeper.

You were there, you were right at that edge, peaking with every thrust of his fingers—it wouldn’t take long, not with everything that had been building all night, not with the drugs still singing through your veins, not with the way Harry was touching you, knowing exactly what you needed, like he was in your mind controlling every movement, anticipating every need that was rising, as the pleasure crested and broke, and you came with a cry muffled against his neck, your tongue dragging across the salt-slick flesh of his throat, tasting him, claiming him, as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through you, each one more intense than the last, until you were shaking, your whole body trembling, barely able to stand.

Harry held you through it, his fingers still moving gently inside you, drawing out every last ripple of pleasure until you were gasping, your oversensitive pussy shuttering, as you pushed weakly at his wrist—and it was only then that he pulled his hand away, and you watched, dazed, your mind a blissed-out chasm of need collapsing in on itself, as he brought his glistening fingers to his lips and licked them clean, making you swallow hard as your mouth went dry. 

“Mmmm,” he breathed, his pupils blown wide. “I knew you would taste good.” 

And holy shit, you were a goner, and your body went limp in his arms, growing weightless as you sagged against him, every limb liquid and loose, and for a long moment, you just breathed together, his heart pounding against your chest, yours pounding against his. And then, slowly, your hand drifted down between your bodies, as your fingers fumbled and grazed over the thick bulge straining against the front of his shorts, and you palmed him through the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath your touch.

But before you could do more, his hand caught your wrist, halting any further actions.

“Not here,” he forced, trying to gain his composure, but you could tell he was desperate, and there was something in the way that he was looking at you that made you want to fall to your knees right then and there. “Come back to mine with me.” 

It was a suggestion yes, but more a plea, and as you looked up at him, at his flushed face and swollen lips, his eyes were still burning with want, and you knew—you just knew—that if you went with him, this night would become something else entirely, something that would mark you, change you, leave indents on your soul that would never fully fade.

“Not without my friend,” you told him, because even now, even lost in the haze of him, you couldn’t abandon Sam, couldn’t leave her behind.

Harry smiled, something slow and knowing, something that hinted at promise. “Okay,” he answered. “But only because I want you so bad.”

And you leaned up on your toes, and pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, and let your breath ghost across his skin as you whispered your answer. 

“Good,” you said. “Because, now I’m going to let you have me any way that you want.”