#k byeeeee

They're in an underground club, the music pumping, and George and Charli behind the decks. She's been dancing in the pit of people all night, sweat running down her back in a way that's really unattractive, her arms above her head. She doesn't know where any of her friends are, scattered around the room maybe, or at the bar getting more drinks possibly. It doesn't even matter because she's having such a good time, and Charli slipped her something at the beginning of the night that's making her feel so good. 

The lasers beam around the room, and the strobe lights make everyone look like they're moving in slow motion. The smoke machine hisses every few minutes, creating a hazy glow, and did she mention that she just feels so fucking good? Endorphins flood her veins, and it's like her body is completely weightless. 

A new song begins, the beats per minute pounding faster, and she realizes in less than a second it's her favorite song. Looking at the booth, Charli winks at her as she adjusts her headphones, pulling at the dials on the board and looking away as she nods her head to the music. 

Her hips sway from left to right along with the bass, and she drags her tank top up her torso, searching for some kind of relief from the temperature when she feels a pair of hands slide around her sticky waist. 

"Your favorite song!" is yelled into her ear in a distinctively northern accent. "I've been looking for you!" 

Matty pulls her back against his chest, and she wraps an arm around the back of his neck as they dance. Lost in the music, they move together so well that it's like they're practically fucking in the middle of the room, the energy of the club pulsating around them. Her head lolls back against his shoulder when his hand slips beneath her shirt, pulling at her hardened nipples and she knows he's drunk, he's never this bold. 

Opening her eyes, they catch on to Charli's face, her raised brows as she looks down at them in amusement. Matty's lips suck at her neck and she whines loudly when his teeth sink down on her skin and his other hand dips beneath her skirt. There are so many people around that they become hidden within the crowd, and she knows she's in trouble now. 

"Tell me to stop," he rasps in her ear, and she can barely hear him. 

She shakes her head and it's enough for him because he shoves his hand the rest of the way under the material, shoving her underwear to the side. Calloused fingers rub over her clit and her knees just about buckle, but he uses the hand still squeezing at her breasts to hold her up. 

The hand in her underwear slides lower, between her folds and collecting all her wetness along the way. He's moving quickly, barely giving her enough time to comprehend what's happening, but it doesn't matter either way. She wants him. Her moans are loud, but drowned out by the new song that's playing, and she smashes their mouths together when two digits slip inside of her easily, curling on their retreat. His thumb taps at her clit and when the song changes again, she becomes hyperaware of the fact that she's about to orgasm in the middle of the dancefloor while Charli XCX blares from the speakers. 

She can feel how hard he is against her back, but he's making her feel so good, better than whatever her best friend gave her, that all she can do is lazily stroke a hand across the front of his jeans. He still hisses in her ear though and slides his fingers a little bit faster. 

"They're watching you." He murmurs, squeezing her nipples again and she doesn't know who he's talking about, but it shoots a thrill through her so hard that she clamps down on his fingers and white light bursts across her eyes. 

"Bathroom," he commands, pulling his hands back to himself. "Now.”