A/N: So who wants to see some Katie/Cook club dancing? I do, I do!! A strong T for language and some content.

It takes all of three minutes for Katie to realize her dance partner has changed. She's guessing it happened somewhere around that shimmy thing she was doing, but she doesn't really give a shit anyway, because it's not like she wanted to marry the guy or anything. She can't remember his name, or what he looked like. Just that he was tall and lean, probably with dark hair and dark eyes. But who gives a shit, right? She never does, anymore, because nowadays it's the first dance, the first kiss, the first fuck, and the last goodbye in the morning.

She hasn't seen this new guy's face yet, but he's got nice hands, and he knows how to use them. Not like the last guy, the last boy who kept them high on her waist, unmoving. Katie lets him snake up and down her arms, over her back and around the curve of her hips. He goes down to her thighs, then back up to the ribs and over her breasts, where he lets them stay. She rocks back into him, keeping her waist moving in time to the beat. The lights flash in time with the song's increasing tempo.

This one is shorter than she usually likes. Katie can tell from the way he fits behind her, how their bodies line up closer. He's stronger, too, not so skinny, but maybe its fucking time for a change, anyway. She comes to these clubs to forget, but how the fuck is that going to happen if she keeps going after boys with the same fucking body as the one who left her for that crazy bitch with the rock? These boys all have Freddie's face in the strobe lights and Katie's gotten tired of waking up to face facts that it's not really him, it won't ever be him again. This one leans his face down and nips at her ear, then presses his mouth along her jaw.

Katie shivers when she feels him put his hand in her top, when his hot skin touches hers. She feels warm breath against her ear as he leans forward to say something. "Your tits, babe, are even nicer up close than they looked from the ground at your little party in the woods."

"Fuck's sake!" Katie screams, detangling herself as fast as she can. She turns around, and hell, it's the tosser himself. Cook has his head back and is laughing at her, mouth open and smiling under the strobe lights. Katie feels a little sick, because Jesus, did she just get felt up by that fucking pig she'd pulled off her sister a few weeks ago? She tries not to think about how nice it felt when he touched her, because fucking hell, it was Cook. "Get the hell away from me, you pile of shit!" She screams above the music. She wants to get lost in the crowd again, and starts to move in the direction of the other dancers, the throbbing bodies, but she doesn't get far before Cook's got a hold of her wrist.

"Aw, come on now, Katiekins, we were having fun!" Cook pulls her back to him, this time face to face. He starts moving side to side, along with the new song playing.

Katie's drugs are still in effect, and when she looks at him his moving limbs are a blur. "I'm high, I'm not stupid. You're still revolting; now get the fuck away!" She's supposed to walk off in the opposite direction, head held high. But she catches sight of his hands in his pockets, and thinks about the way he trailed them over her hips and her ass, then around her thighs. She thought about his mouth against her neck and her jaw, about the shivers it sent all over her. Katie licks her lips and looks back up at Cook.

It's against her better judgment, and maybe if Emily wasn't off chasing after tits and fannies or whatever the fuck it was gay people did, maybe if Effy hadn't fucking hit her over the head with a rock, maybe if Freddie wanted her more, Katie wouldn't be here, this wouldn't be happening. But all of that shit was real, and it hurt to think about it. With those nice hands, that body against hers, Katie hadn't been thinking at all. And it was fantastic.

So instead of leaving, instead of doing what she was supposed to do, Katie lets Cook pull her up against him. She lets him put his hands on her hips and turn her around, assuming her earlier position pressed up against him. It was close enough to smell his cheap cologne and the heavy cloud of whatever alcohol he'd been drinking. He leans down, his mouth against her throat. She can feel him smile, the white wolfish grin, his teeth on her neck. "They all come to the Cookie Monster in the end," he says, kissing her there.

Without pause, Katie shook her hair left, right, and moved down against him. When she came back up, she turned her head slightly toward him. "Shut the fuck up, Cook. No talking."

He smirks and runs his hands down her thighs again in response, this time edging up and under the hemline of Katie's dress. Her pulse throbs harder, faster, and she lets him run his hands up her dress, between her thighs, higher and higher. A soft noise escapes the back of her throat, and he knows he can hear it over the music, because he laughs against her, his chest vibrating against her back. He leans down again, coming close to her ear so she can hear him.

"So you wanna see my cock, sweetheart?"

Katie turns completely, careful to stay pressed against him. Standing on her toes, she leans up and kisses him hard against his mouth. He responds back, using his tongue, tangling one hand in her hair and grabbing at her breasts with the other. "No talking," she says, stepping away, and pulling his arm in the direction of the exit.

What the hell, she could always blame the drugs.


A/N: Eh. What do you think? Comment if you'd like.