Club Night

Note: Fic for andrealyn's club!fic challenge. Switches back and forth between second and third person narrative.
Thanks: to luzmaria8, aelane and soleta. This is the best-beta'd fic of mine ever - I even rewrote it completely, just to return to the first version in the end... Many thanks to my patient betas!

There is heat surrounding you, the heat of countless people pressing together, filling a much too small room with their presence, their energy, their sweat.

There is darkness, broken by the flashing of lights, colorful and blinding, changing the way you see everything, turning it into something alien and claustrophobic, and yet so familiar and freeing.

There is music, deafeningly loud. The melody almost drowned out by the hard beat pounding through your body, vibrating in your stomach, coursing through your whole being, despite the earplugs you always wear.

You don't need to be deaf on top of being the oldest hobbit.

Billy lingers near the bar for a while, where the air is just a bit better. Sweat is dribbling down his neck, cool on his hot skin, and he is glad he didn't listen to Dom, that he had decided to wear a comfortable cotton tank top instead of the plastic tube thingie Dom had wanted him to wear.

Years of experience are paying off.

He almost laughs out loud at that thought, realizing that Dom has probably almost as much clubbing experience as he does -- Billy has never been big on clubs, preferring a night at the pub most of the time. But Dom doesn't seem to mind being uncomfortable as long as he looks good -- and that he sure does tonight.

Billy catches a glimpse of Dom as he starts moving again. He's dancing somewhere right in the middle of the floor, where it's so packed it's impossible to do more than sway back and forth -- only Dom doesn't seem to know this, because he's jumping around like crazy, legs kicking and arms waving. Experience has taught Billy to prefer the fringes, where he has some air and room to move without stepping on too many people's toes. But details like that don't bother Dom, obviously, and Billy can't help but chuckle as he watches his friend.

The other hobbits, including Orli, are somewhere around, dancing (Elijah, whose nervous energy rivals Dom's), pretending to dance (Sean, who can never say no to Elijah's pleading of "dance with me, Sean, please!"), or grinding with some girl in a fair imitation of foreplay (Orli, who despite this always goes home alone, slipping into Viggo's apartment quietly). But Billy has no idea where, and doesn't really care at the moment. Watching Dom is entertainment enough, so he moves a bit closer to the center, his body finding the rhythm easily.

Suddenly there are hands on your body. A girl's hands, obviously unaware of trifling things like personal boundaries. The hands are small and firm and the body next to you feels good.

She moves a leg between your thighs, rubbing in just the right places, while people are closing in on you, obscuring Dom from your view. But you don't mind, not really, not when the girl turns out to be a good dancer and, although sweaty, she smells good.

There is Dom again, next to you, with another girl, not kicking so much anymore, more writhing and grinding and causing something in your stomach to churn. The girl yells something in your ear, but you can't understand a word and shrug, pressing her a bit closer, against the bulge in your pants.

There is another hand on your shoulder, Dom's hand that has left the other girl and is trying to get your attention. He is gesturing to you, making drinking motions, and without a second thought, you slide out of the girl's grip, shrugging in apology. She doesn't seem to care much, for which you are grateful.

You don't like being rude, but you do want to follow Dom.

Dom leads Billy away from the dance floor, to the second bar at the back of the club.

"Sorry to interrupt your action, man!" Dom screams over the noise as they're holding their beers, leaning close to be understood, his hot breath grazing Billy's ear.

Billy finds that he really doesn't mind Dom's interruption and shrugs. "Ah, was okay, I guess. Nothing special."

Dom grins at him, his arm sneaking around Billy's middle. That happens often, feels so familiar that Billy doesn't think anything of it, not anymore. He can smell beer, and sweat, and Dom, and moves even closer to hear what Dom is saying.

"You looked as if you were having fun."

Billy shrugs again and tries to remember what the girl looked like. "Wasn't really feeling her," he says, and it's only half a lie.

"Ah well..." Now it's Dom's turn to shrug, his half-open shirt revealing his necklace and a bit of chest hair, painted red and green and blue in the flashing light. He looks alien, his features hardly recognizable. Enticing.

They are both silent, moving slightly to the beat and watching the masses of people around them.

There is fire in your veins, and images of people dancing, writhing, and shaking pass before your eyes. You're not sure you're going to pull this off, but Dom is next to you, not quite dancing with you, but almost. You know you have to try.

Dom's body is touching yours, his arm tightening around your middle rhythmically, unconsciously fueling your fire. You're determined now and start pulling him towards the most obvious of places -- the bathroom.

You see surprise in Dom's eyes as you lead him past the men's room, but no suspicion or resistance, and he follows you willingly. Hardly any people now, and although the air gets better, it is heavy with promise and your breathing becomes labored. You're almost there.

There is a wall, and Dom against it, hard beneath your hands, almost too hot to touch. But you touch, and you taste, and you smell as he is falling apart beneath your hands, your mouth, and your body against his, around his, in his. You've never been quite as close to heaven as in this full, dark, loud club, and you know you never want to stop.

It's hard to believe that you never had the courage to do this before, to make Dom shiver and buck and demand "More, Billy, more! Please!", his voice breaking so that you have to read it from his kiss-swollen lips, so soft and yet demanding against yours.

You silently say a prayer of thanks for his yoga exercises, as he wraps a leg around your hip, almost forcing you where he obviously wants you most. Not that you're putting up any resistance -- if you've learned one thing in your life, it's not to waste a good thing. And Dom against a wall is most certainly a good thing.

You don't need to be able to hear Dom's moans to know that you want to hear them again.

It's just another club night out with the hobbits, the air thick, the music throbbing -- yet Billy knows he will never forget it. Neither will Dom.

Billy will make sure of that.