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“I am not asking permission,” Draco growled as he pulled his arm back from where Harry was keeping it in a tight grip.
Harry took in the tight latex trousers that clung to Draco almost obscenely. He took in the fury in Draco's eyes and the loose crop-shirt, that should not look as good as it did. It even revealed a small strip of pale skin that Harry itched to touch. The black cat ears on Draco's head made the look playful and Harry's mind was fogged with want.
What he wanted was Draco. What he didn't want was for Draco to venture onto the dance floor in the over-packed club by himself, looking like that.
Draco stepped closer to Harry and hissed: “I will dance, Potter. And I do not care if you have anything to say about that.”
Then he was gone. Lost between bopping heads and writhing bodies in sad excuses for Halloween costumes and Harry knew what he had to do. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and followed the blond head, that he would always able to recognise.
He pushed his way through the crowd and found Draco dancing with his eyes closed. Before anyone else could approach, Harry fixed himself to Draco's back, swaying his hips in tune with the music. He buried his face in Draco's neck and placed his hands on his hips. A hand came up to gently cup his jaw and he wondered if Draco knew it was him. If Draco would just let anyone touch him like this. If he would touch just anyone like this.
Draco placed his hand on top of Harry's and pushed their hands higher, until Harry touched the bare skin between the trousers and the shirt. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Take me home, Harry.”