Good evening, my one-word prompt is "club"
Shane's convinced he'll hate this club. He's hated every other. And okay, he mostly still does.
Except…
Except he doesn't really need to dance this time. Ilya stands close, arms around him, and Shane just follows the slow, delicious grind of his hips. His senses are full of Ilya – the taste of his lips, the heady scent of his cologne, the feel of his mesh shirt, and the filthy things he's whispering against his ear.
It feels like all eyes are on them, and Shane knows what every man is thinking: lucky asshole.
He tugs Ilya even closer.
Fucking good.
Send me a word and I'll write an exactly 100-word drabble based on it













