part 1 of the "about that one night" AU series, where I show off my amazing talents in smut-writing lol. can be read separately.

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warnings: misleading title, gratuitous smut (implied/referenced pet/owner dynamic, anal plug, dry humping, grinding), language, implied/referenced drug use, use of alcohol.

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"no, will there be another one quite desirable as you."

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He only thought this was a regular night out.

And still, Maurice thought so as his friends dragged him half-drunk into a bar, stumbling on each other's feet and paying no mind as to where they were. It didn't matter to them anyway, as this was something routine – pregaming until they they almost couldn't think straight and crashing into some random bar, maybe watch a striptease or join in on the dance floor, then head out before the sun completely rose.

A pretty exciting routine, he must admit.

From first glance, he could already tell that he had never been to this place before. The way the tables were arranged, the position of the stripper pole and the dance floor, even the blue and purple lights that were moving in a frenzy – they were all too foreign from the ones he had previously seen in the same half-delirious state. He didn't mind it, however, and sat himself down on the cushioned booth, watching some of his friends making their way to the dance floor. He wasn't much of a dancer himself, but he would be after a shot or two of whiskey, which he had already ordered.

Ignoring the chatters nearby, Maurice set his eyes on the clutter of people whose movements synchronized with the constant beats of the music. His eyes kept going out of focus, and he tried his best to stay a bit sober by attempting to make out who his friends were in the crowd. Now, had he tried to distract himself with something else, he wouldn't have fucked up majorly, because as he failed to pick out his friends, his eyes had laid on the most gorgeous creature on the face of the Earth.

Maurice couldn't even look away if he tried.

At first, all he could see was the motion, the little bits of hip-rolling and stepping that seemed to just effortlessly blend into the music. Then came the features that were visible only in flashes, disappearing right in the next moment. There was a coy smile, or so he thought. He kept seeing that same smile the more he observed, and soon, he could feel the distance between them shorten. He swallowed, downing the two shots of whiskey with record speed. Just about time the dancer reached him.

Up close, all Maurice could think about was how this person was even allowed to exist. The curve of the ass made up for an obvious lack of cleavage, for this person was clearly not female, and his shiny black hair, messy and tangled from dancing, covered up half of his face. His features were a little bit too masculine for the shiny lipgloss he had on, but they mixed together well enough, attractive in a way that wasn't too flamboyant. The dancer ground his ass down, his lean body almost fitting, and sat elegantly, like a cat, on Maurice's leg.

Swallowing once again, Maurice could feel his arousal growing more and more obvious. The dancer seemed to be aware of that as he gave him a devious grin. Their eyes locked, and, before long, so did their lips. Maurice had noticed the slight dilation of the dancer's pupils, but was too preoccupied with hips lips to care. The dancer tasted like cheap gin and cigarettes, and the loose black crop top rose as he looped his arms around Maurice's neck, revealing more of his pallid skin, slicked with sweat from the dance.

Just everything about him tempted Maurice.

Their lips broke off for a moment, long enough for the both of them to regain their breaths, before they connected again. This time, the black-haired beauty climbed his way on top of Maurice's thighs, so that, at the end of it, he sat straddling Maurice, grinding on his dick like they could fuck right then and there and no one would give a shit, or everyone would, and the beauty would just display his asshole, spread wide and shiny with cum, for them to see. For a while, it seemed like that was what it was leading to. The dancer pawed on him, rolling his hips like he was still moving to the music. He unbuttoned Maurice's shirt, pushing him further so that he was practically lying on his back. Unlike Maurice, the dancer looked evidently proud of the bulge that tented his ripped jean shorts, enjoying the attention he was given. He licked his glossy lips, green eyes dazzling, mischievous in the neon lights. Involuntarily, Maurice thrusted up. His hands were wandering to the dancer's round ass, intending to finger him open and fuck him on the spot, when he felt it, the round base of a plug, buried in his ass and had just begun vibrating.

The dancer collapsed on him at the surprise stimulation. Maurice sat up, holding him steady by his hips. Even in his state, the dancer was still able to glance at someone with a challenging grin. Maurice looked to the direction of the dancer's gaze and met eyes with a red-headed man. There was something terrifying inside his eyes, some kind of ownership toward the dancer that Maurice couldn't quite make clear, but the constant grinding of the dancer had taken over his attention. The vibration seemed to get even stronger, and the dancer began moaning in his ears, soft and breathless. It was getting too difficult to just hold back, so Maurice began humping him. The sounds they both created attracted the attention of nearby customers, and soon, there were people crowding around, commenting on the almost-public-fuck, some of them were stroking their own dicks through their pants, and some of them were Maurice's own friends.

But even the awareness of the publicity couldn't save him now, because the dancer's arms were wrapped still around his neck, and the rolls of his hips, although were only felt through heavy layers of fabric, were intoxicating.

"What's your name?" The dancer whispered, his voice breathy and sweet, pouring inside Maurice's ears like honey.

"Maurice." And, like a dumbass, he replied.

"Nice name. I'll see you around, Maurice." The dancer's whisper marked the end of it, when he saw white and exploded in his pants, and when two bouncers came to separate them, throwing Maurice right out of the bar,

"You should've known better than to fuck with Merridew's kitten." He was told, before the bouncer disappeared into the bar once again. The door closed at him in slow motion, and the last Maurice ever saw of that bar were a pair of smug, cold, light blue eyes, and the dancer crawling, like a cat, on top of the man named Merridew.

Something told Maurice that, later on, when he got home half-drunk, he would, in his mind, think about how it would have been if he had fucked the pretty little dancer just a bit sooner, stretched the kitten's slutty hole right in front of his owner, and waste quite a lot of paper towels.

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I can't believe I stayed up until 4 to write this. Finals are coming up and this is what I do. I need a life holy shit.