I sit on my barstool, isolated from the rest of the too-loud club. To be completely honest with myself, I have no reason to be here. I'm not waiting for anyone. I'm not looking for someone. I was just too disgusted with myself for being such a lazy bastard I decided to get up and go out. It was the best decision I ever made.
I sense his presence before I feel his touch. He greets me a little too heartily, he's clearly pissed. Sitting down on the stool next to mine, he waves hello to a couple of drunken customers. Unaware that he is slowly inching his way off his stool and closer to mine, I turn to face him, and wind up with his lips centimeters from my own. My breath catches, and him, being the prat he is, closes the distance. The softest touches of mouths and my breathing hitching higher in surprise turns out to be too much for him and he pulls away. I almost whimper at the loss of contact, but then I remember who I am and what I'm doing and who is kissing me and I push him ever-so-gently away. But when he grins that mischievous smile of his and those emerald eyes glint with lust, it's all I can do not to jump him then and there. His voice whispers my name so quietly it's almost silent. Under the thump thump thumping of the bass, I hear him calling to me. "Malfoy.."
He takes my hand and all but pulls me out of the bar. We apparate to his loft and I'm silently cursing myself for being so daft as to allow this drunken man to take me home. I'm preparing to leave, but his arms circle possessively around my waist. He catches me by surprise when he touches his lips to my neck and says, "I hope you know I haven't had a drop to drink all night. Care for something?"
His sobriety brings on my own and I realize with a jolt that this is all of his doing. No alcohol to water down his judgment. He wants this? He wants me? I smirk to myself when the memory of his lips crashing down on mine resurfaces. He kissed me by his own will. Let's see how far I can take this.