Word Count: ~600
Warnings: professor/student, dirty talk, filthy club hook-ups ;)
Challenge: hp_may_madness 2016 Day #2: blue, gin, wood, Narratophilia
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd.
With a flourish, the bartender slid the freshly made gin and tonic across the lacquered wood bartop. Draco took it gratefully, taking a large swig of the refreshing beverage. He looked out over the writhing crowd, the club lights pulsing blue over sweaty male bodies. Draco's stomach clenched with desire.
Several feet away, his gazed locked with an attractive and muscular redhead. Draco suppressed his immediate reaction to the vibrant hue of his hair—this was no Weasley. No, he was far too attractive for that, and this was a Muggle club besides. Draco let himself admire his muscled arms and stubbled jaw, the toned stomach and not inconsiderable bulge in his tight jeans. The man's eyes fairly sparkled as he beckoned Draco over with a teasing curl of his finger. Draco went like a moth to a flame.
They danced: Draco's arse nestled into the man's groin, broad hands gripping Draco's hips, and soft lips skimming over the back of Draco's neck. Draco felt wild and alive, the throbbing beat of the music shivering up through his feet, vibrating around his prick. A hard, thick cock rubbed tantalisingly against the back seam of Draco's jeans, and Draco's mouth watered at the thought of it.
"So, sweetheart, what's it going to take to get you on your knees for me?" The man's voice was low and rough as tree bark.
Draco smirked and turned in the man's arms. He was half a second from dropping to his knees right there in front of everybody on the dance floor, but there was no reason not to make the bloke work for it. "You're going to have to try harder than that. You need to make me want it."
The man's lips pulled into a filthy smirk. He tugged Draco even closer, grinding their hard pricks together. "Oh, I don't think wanting it's the problem, is it, darling? You're practically gagging for it, aren't you? It's all you can think about, me dragging you off to a dark corner, having my wicked way with you. Putting you on your knees and using that dirty mouth. Or maybe turning you against the wall, licking you open and fucking that fantastic arse until you're begging me to come."
Draco whimpered, praying that the sound wouldn't be audible over the thud of the base. Judging by the man's smug smile, Draco wasn't so lucky. What the hell did it matter, though? Draco had come here to find an attractive bloke to get off with, and here was a rugged, filthy-mouthed, wet-dream of a man, desperate to give Draco exactly what he wanted.
Draco brushed a sweet kiss across the man's lips before pulling him into the shadows and dropping to his knees.
With a groan, Draco blinked himself awake. For several moments, he allowed himself to mourn the loss of such a pleasant dream, especially as he was just about to get to the good part. Then his memories of the past few days came rushing in, and Draco turned over to bury his face in his pillows.
That wet-dream of a one-off was Charlie bloody Weasley, his Care of Magical Creature's professor. Draco was very much not supposed to be having filthy dreams about him. Especially when those dreams were based in gloriously real memory. Draco had class with him that very afternoon, and Draco would desperately like to get through it without popping an inappropriate hard-on. This year was his second chance, and he just wanted to get through it as quickly and quietly as possible. He sighed as he dragged himself out of bed and began to dress, hoping that day, and the rest of the year, would be simple and uncomplicated.
He ignored the tiny voice inside that told him Charlie Weasley was going to be one massive complication.