The familiar burn of alcohol thrums through his veins, his pulse beating in time with the heavy bass that rattles the walls. He tips back another shot, the sharp sting doing nothing to dull the restless energy simmering beneath his skin. Around him, the crowd sways in a haze of heat and sound, bodies pressed close, laughter spilling into the thrum of music. A body brushes against his side, a smaller frame sliding up to the bar, leaning against it to get a better look at him, their lips curved in a knowing smirk as they order a drink. His gaze collides with theirs, and in that instant, he knows he belongs to them for the night—savoring the shape of their name on his tongue. Their hand finds his, tugging him into the press of the dance floor, and he follows without a second thought.

His hand is firm on their hip, guiding them against him in time with the low thrum of music pulsing through the bar. The taste of whiskey still burns on his tongue when he catches their gaze, their pupils blown wide, daring him. He smirks, leaning close, letting the amber liquid slide past his lips and between theirs, watching the way they swallow without hesitation.

The world blurs around them—laughter, clinking glasses, drunken strangers—none of it matters when the heat between them is this sharp. His grip tightens, and in the next breath, he's tugging them away from the crowd, through the back door and into the cool night.

Moonlight spills over the alley as he presses them against the wall, gripping their thighs and lifting them into his arms, his chest pressed hard to theirs. Strangers stumble past just a few feet away, oblivious to the shameless passion unfolding beneath the moonlight, but he only sees them—their flushed lips, their ragged breath, and the way their body trembles beneath his hold.