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Harry didn’t know why he kept returning to this club. Night after night, he came back, staying long after he should. There was something about the hum of the music as it echoed off the walls, the churning of the crowd on the dance floor, the way the lights flickered over the walls and glass, sending rays scattering here and there; the taste of the alcohol. Everything about it had Harry returning, again and again, keeping him up late into the night to the point he had gone to more than one class exhausted.
He first came with Hermione and Ron months ago when the club first opened. It didn’t take long for his friends to discover the private rooms in the back, leaving Harry alone at the bar. But he didn’t mind. The club had enraptured Harry from the moment he stepped foot in it. He was content to sit at the bar and enjoy the feeling. Sometimes, someone would drag him onto the dance floor, but most of the time, Harry was content to stay in his corner, feeling the music thunder in his chest and the haze of the air settle over him.
The second week Harry came to the club, he met Tom. If Harry had to guess, he was only a little older than him with dark hair and dark eyes. Harry could never pinpoint the exact color of either in the low light of the club, and sometimes those dark eyes looked red when the light danced over them just right. The first time Tom had spoken to him, though, was a month after the club opened.
It was a quick conversation, over as quickly as it had begun with Tom asking him how he enjoyed the club. It wasn’t until their third lighting fast conversation that Harry finally learned Tom’s name. Most of the time, when he noticed the dark-haired man was when he was floating around the club, his eyes sharp and focused. Harry wondered if he was the manager, and that was why he was out and about, looking over the club carefully.
He tried to tell himself that he didn’t know why he kept coming back to this same club, Urban Knights, it was called. But he knew the reason, and he was lying to himself every time he said he wasn’t sure. He kept coming back in hopes to glimpse Tom.
Tom, for his part, only ever seemed to look less severe — his sharp eyes made sharper by his high cheekbones – when he was around Harry. Tom never appeared to smile unless he was talking to Harry until he was inevitably called away again.
He tried to tell himself that it was only a fleeting crush. If he could even call it a crush. He was an adult, after all. He went to university and was actively earning a degree in education. But yet, he kept coming back in hopes of earning that same sly smile that often waited for him on Tom’s lips.
Tonight was no different as Harry swayed slightly where he was pressed against the bar, the sound of music hammering in his ears. He sipped his drink, not really paying attention to it or its flavor but rather watching the way the crowd on the dance floor pulsed with the beat. Bodies jolted this way and that, moving up and down in time with the various songs. It reminded Harry of the ocean as he watched those bodies move. The way they swayed together looked so much like waves as they rolled against the shore.
“Enjoying yourself?” A voice purred in his ear, making him shiver.
Despite how low Tom spoke, Harry could still hear him. The music pounded and hummed, people yelled over it to be heard, but Tom’s soft whispers in his ear were always what Harry heard best when the other would sneak up behind him.
“Yes,” Harry answered, not bothering to turn around.
“You don’t look like it,” Tom said, his nose brushing over Harry’s ear. “Would you allow me to help you?”
Harry swallowed thickly, tilting his head back to see the man behind him. “Yes.”
Tom’s grin reminded Harry of a shark. Before he knew what was happening, Tom dragged him onto the dance floor, into the mass of bodies swaying with the music. Everyone was already packed so closely together that Harry had no choice but to practically be on top of Tom, but Tom pulled him closer still.
He had never seen Tom dance before or do anything other than watch the club closely for anything that could potentially go wrong. So, it was a bit of a surprise when Tom pulled Harry against himself, perfectly matching the song's beat. Harry wasn’t much of a dancer himself, but leaning up against Tom had its advantages. Tom’s movements directed Harry’s until they were both swaying with the music, pressed up against each other.
Harry’s arms were wrapped around Tom’s back, holding onto him for dear life as they danced. Tom didn’t seem to mind as he tucked his head toward Harry, creating a space between them that belonged to them alone. In Tom’s arms, it was easy for the rest of the club to fade away. It was only the two of them, holding each other closely.
It should have occurred to him that he didn’t know Tom all that well, and yet he was entangled with him so intimately on the dancefloor, but that thought only came about when the phone in Tom’s pocket buzzed, jolting Harry out of the bubble they had created.
Tom apologized, raising Harry’s hand to press a kiss against his knuckles; before he vanished, leaving Harry alone on the dance floor.
Harry returned the next night. And the night after that.
And again, the night after that.
Tom appeared, standing nearly on top of him every time before inviting him out to the dancefloor. He would go, and before long, Tom would have to leave again, vanishing into the crowd as Harry stood alone in the mass of bodies that swayed together.
On the third night, when Harry came with Ginny, Tom appeared once again, but he didn't smile for the first time since Harry had known him. He barely interacted with Harry that night, and Harry noticed that when Tom went away this time, he hadn’t even pulled out his phone, the usual reason for his departure.
Still, though, Harry came back for the fourth night, hoping to see Tom once again, but he never appeared.
A week later, Harry still didn’t see him, and for the first time since the club opened, he debated not going back.
It was two weeks before Harry went to the club again, this time with a group of friends. In that time, Harry tried to talk some sense into himself, hoping that he could make himself realize that he shouldn’t be so keen on seeing a person he barely knew, especially one that only ever seemed to have a few minutes for him before he was running off again.
He tried and tried to tell himself that, saying it to the mirror in the morning and to the ceiling a night when he couldn’t hear the echo of music humming in his ears after having listened to it for so many weeks in a row.
Yet, when he and his friends returned, he wasn’t able to stop himself from searching the crowd for the familiar face of Tom. He didn’t even know Tom’s last name, but he knew his face well enough that he could spot him easily amongst the crowd.
Harry and his friends ordered drinks, all of them celebrating their midterm exams. Not that it mattered much. They all knew there was more school and more exams and even finals before some semblance of a break, and then they would all come back the next semester and do the same thing all over again. But Dean had convinced them to enjoy the small things, so they went out. Ron seemed to think that the only reason Dean even bothered to persuade the group to go as a whole was so he could have a chance to dance with Seamus.
Most of them had known each other since childhood, with a few exceptions, and it had been undeniable for years that Dean was in love with his longtime friend. Even Harry saw it, and Harry knew he wasn’t the most observant person. His friends loved to tease him about the time he had a snake on his backpack for the whole day and never once noticed. He was lucky it wasn’t venomous.
Harry forced himself to stop looking for his mystery that was Tom. He didn’t come here for Tom, he told himself. He came for his friends. Or so he told himself over and over as he downed one drink quickly and then another soon after.
His head felt a little fuzzy as he leaned against the bar. The lights looked a little duller; the crowd seemed to move a little slower. He barely heard what anyone spoke to him, and his response was to nod without any real comprehension.
Two by two, his friends began to filter onto the dance floor, leaving Harry at the bar to enjoy the buzz he had given himself. He could see the faces of his friends amongst the crowd, laughing or grinning coyly at each other as they held tightly to their significant other. Of them, Harry was the only one who didn’t have a partner.
For a while, people had wondered if Harry would start dating Ron’s younger sister, Ginny. He never did, and ultimately Ginny seemed to prefer someone else over him anyway. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Ginny dancing with her girlfriend, Luna. Their hair seemed to sparkle in the light of the dancefloor, and Harry wondered if Luna had convinced Ginny to put something in it to create that sight.
“Your friends seem to have abandoned you,” Tom’s familiar voice purred in his ear.
Harry quickly calmed his heart which had nearly jumped out of his chest at the first hint of Tom’s voice.
“They’re having fun,” Harry answered, taking a sip of his third drink.
“And you?” Tom asked. He walked around Harry, no longer standing behind him but leaning on the bar in front of him. “Are you having fun?”
“Me?” Harry asked with a grin before swirling his drink. “I’m having a great time.”
“You’re drunk,” Tom said, his voice strangely neutral.
“Nope.” Harry popped the ‘p’ in the word as he spoke. “Just buzzed.”
“Won’t your girlfriend be expecting you to be sober?” Tom asked, turning away from Harry to look over the bar.
“What girlfriend?” Harry asked, blinking rapidly at Tom in front of him.
Tom turned back to him with a raised eyebrow, clearly unamused.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Harry elaborated as though Tom had misunderstood what he had said. “Or a boyfriend. Or anyone.” He shrugged, grinning up at Tom. “I’m just Harry.”
“Just Harry,” Tom repeated, still sounding unconvinced.
“Do you mean Ginny?” Harry asked suddenly, remembering the last time he had seen Tom. Then he stood, swaying into Tom’s space as he searched the dance floor, looking for the pair with sparkling hair. It wasn’t long before he found them again, the two of them spinning near one of the speakers. “She’s with her girlfriend over there.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed as he followed Harry’s gaze before turning back toward him.
“She’s my best friend’s little sister,” Harry continued without prompting. “We’re friends. We played the same sports when we were younger.”
“And now?” Tom asked.
“Now?” Harry repeated. “Now I come to this same club hoping that the tall, dark, and handsome stranger will dance with me for more than a few minutes while my friends give me pity dances.”
Harry pushed away from Tom, leaning back against the bar. His head felt a little fuzzier now, and he wondered how much of the alcohol had yet to kick in if he was still feeling it now.
“You think I’m handsome?” Tom asked, his features twisting into the same smile he always seemed to reserve for Harry.
“Well, I don’t keep coming back to stand alone on the dancefloor,” Harry said, rolling his head toward Tom.
“Would you like to dance now?” Tom asked, nodding toward the dance floor.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? You always leave.” Harry answered, hearing himself pout.
“Not tonight. Not unless you give me somewhere to be.”
Harry grinned, taking the hand Tom offered to him and following him onto the dancefloor.
He didn’t think his heart stopped pounding until the following day.
Over the next several weeks, Harry learned more and more about Tom. Tom finally told him his last name — Riddle – and Harry finally found out why he kept running away at the drop of a hat. It turned out Tom owned the club Harry frequented, and the reason he had been out and about so much when the club first opened was his need to make sure everything was in order. Tom had only recently started to turn over the reins a little to his manager, a no less severe woman who looked at Harry like he was the cause of everything wrong in the world.
Harry didn’t mind dealing with the glares from the manager as the more Tom let her handle the small things, the more time he spent with Harry. The thing that surprised Harry the most, though, was when Tom asked him on a date somewhere outside his club.
It was odd seeing Tom in natural light rather than the low lights of the club, and Harry concluded that the club lights did nothing for Tom’s appearance. The man who had been handsome under the club lights was ethereal without them. Harry spent most of the dinner feeling inadequate by Tom’s side until Tom pulled him in for a kiss that melted Harry to the core.
As the weeks passed too, however, Harry’s classes became more complicated, and before he knew it, he would spend hours locked away in his room studying. Several times, Tom brought him dinner after guessing — accurately — that Harry hadn’t eaten.
One night, Harry was so out of his mind with stress that he had nearly torn his apartment apart, looking for something that was ultimately on his counter. Tom had found him in the middle of his apartment with various objects thrown here and there while Harry stared at the same spot on the floor he had been staring at for half an hour. He had unlocked the door for Tom to let himself in and then proceeded to essentially fall into the spot Tom found him in later.
That was the first night he and Tom had sex.
From then on, it seemed like Tom knew exactly how to calm Harry. Whether it was with a few gentle touches or helping Harry work out his frustrations through sex.
By the time weeks progressed into months, Tom had figured out exactly how to manipulate Harry’s body. It should have worried Harry more than it did, but he could never force himself to worry. When it came to Harry, Tom was always gentler, softer, more caring. He had seen Tom around his staff, commanding them in ways he never dared command Harry, though Harry couldn’t help but admit he would have enjoyed that voice bossing him around.
So, when Harry’s finals drew closer, and his stress level went through the roof, Tom seemed to know exactly how to calm him.
He had been spending less and less time at the club and more time with Harry, much to Harry’s delight. It wasn’t a surprise, then, that when Harry’s stress reached its peak, Tom was there to calm him back down.
“Easy, love,” Tom whispered, rubbing over his back. “You’ve been staring at this for hours.”
“You don’t know that,” Harry protested as he dropped his papers.
“Haven’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
Behind him, Tom chuckled, rubbing over his back again. His other hand soon joined, and together, his long, slender fingers began to work out the knots in Harry’s shoulder. Harry moaned in response, his eyelids fluttering shut as Tom worked on one knot and then another once the first was gone.
“Come on,” Tom said after a while, patting Harry’s arms.
Harry tilted his head back, a question on his face as the top of his head brushed over Tom’s abdomen.
“Get up,” Tom said, leaning down to press an upside-down kiss to Harry’s lips. “We’re going out.”
“I can’t,” Harry muttered bitterly when Tom pulled away. “I have to study.”
“Trust me,” Tom said in response, his fingertips brushing over Harry’s temples. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Should I trust you?” Harry retorted though it was half-hearted.
“Probably not,” Tom answered nonchalantly, shrugging as he did. “But you should come with me nonetheless.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry answered. “I’m coming.”
Tom grinned at him while he put on his shoes, and together they left Harry’s apartment.
It turned out Tom’s idea of out was going to his club. It was a Thursday night, but even then, it was always packed full. Harry felt himself flush a little when Tom grabbed his hand and pulled him through the front door without paying. Harry’s wallet had thanked him religiously when he started dating the club owner rather than spending all of his savings entering the club every night.
They started at the bar, and Harry downed two drinks in record time before Tom hauled him onto the dancefloor. The dancing they had done before seemed almost intimate compared to their dancing now, as Harry’s body ground against Tom’s. Harry was certain that it would look like sex with their clothes on; if anyone could see his body, that was. There was rarely ever much room to see what each person was doing when on the dancefloor, much less notice if sex — over the clothes or otherwise — was happening.
Tom’s hands gripped his hips tightly, keeping them pressed close together as the music thrummed around them. The same fuzzy feeling of the alcohol soon filtered into Harry’s brain, silencing the stress that had been hounding him all day. Tom managed that quite well himself, too, as his lips trailed over Harry’s ear, whispering to him something he couldn’t understand. His eyes were half shut as he leaned against Tom, his body moving whichever way Tom directed it to.
After several songs and when the buzz of the alcohol had finally settled in his brain, he began to notice more than just the feeling of Tom against him. Or rather, he noticed something different about the feeling of Tom against him.
Harry was facing Tom now, the two of them breathing heavily in the space between them. Their foreheads were pressed close together, and their arms were looped around one another. As Harry shifted his hips, his lower body brushing against Tom’s, he noticed again the same feeling he had felt before. His lips curled upward slightly as one of Tom’s hands moved lower, pressing against his lower back and shoving their bodies closer together.
Harry sighed at the feeling, his hands gripping Tom just a little tighter. He wasn’t exactly aroused himself, but the feeling of Tom’s arousal made him preen a little. Knowing he had such an effect on Tom was one of the better feelings Harry had experienced, and he enjoyed it every time.
They ground together for a little while longer before their movements began to slow, shifting from less of a dance to the beginnings of something far dirtier. Harry’s heartbeat rapidly in his chest as he looked up at Tom, his mouth watering just slightly.
Tom seemed to understand immediately, grasping one of Harry’s wrists and dragging him through the club.
He had never seen the private rooms in the back until after he started dating Tom, but he did know that they were meticulously maintained. There were four of them with locks that indicated whether or not the room was occupied. After every time a couple left, the room was cleaned, and the sheets changed before another couple could take it over.
Harry wondered whether or not that was an expensive, and probably gross, task, but Tom assured him that it was better than risking the spread of diseases associated with his club.
There was one room open by the time Harry and Tom reached them, and soon they were pushing their way inside.
The rooms all had soundproofing to them, but even that couldn’t block out the hum of the music outside. Still, it was quieter in any of the four rooms than it was in the central area of the club. Harry had seen all four by now, and each one had something different to it.
The room they were in now had a long, red couch and a bed with generic white sheets. After every couple, the floor was cleaned, and after every morning, the day staff shampooed the couch cushions. Neither Harry nor Tom moved toward the couch after they entered the room, both of them twisting back into each other’s arms before shuffling across the room and onto the bed.
Harry still wasn’t aroused, but it was clear that Tom was. So he wasted very little time in beginning to tug at Tom’s clothes. Before long, Tom was completely bared to him while Harry himself still had most of his clothes on, minus his shoes.
Tom let him maneuver him until he was lying on his back. Harry began to kiss his way down Tom’s body, exploring everywhere he had familiarized himself with before. He knew Tom’s body just as well as he knew his own, able to find every little sensitive area and dip where skin met bone.
He shifted down the bed, very purposefully moving toward Tom’s cock, as he kissed his way down his lover’s body. Tom had one hand fisted in his hair while the other was fisted in the sheets. His body twitched at every one of Harry’s kisses, his muscled spasming under the touch. Harry smiled to himself as he worked his way down Tom’s body until he reached his hips.
He kissed each one, letting his tongue trail the familiar arches and bends of his hipbones before he, once again, turned his attention toward moving toward Tom’s cock.
Tom stopped him, though, his hand in Harry’s hair pulling lightly to force him away.
“Wait,” Tom huffed, his voice strained. He pulled himself back up the bed until he sat upright, his back bolstered against the pillows. “Come here.”
Harry shifted back up the bed and was quickly greeted by a kiss when he arrived. Tom held him there for longer than usual, and Harry felt himself quickly falling into the same fuzzy feeling he had when he was with Tom. This feeling was different than the alcohol. It was softer, lighter. It made everything with Tom easier, as though nothing existed outside of him and Tom. It was only the two of them and the way they made each other feel.
His eyelids fluttered briefly as Tom kissed him again and then a third time, seemingly reluctant to pull away.
“I don’t know what it is about you,” Tom whispered against his lips. “But I never want to stay away from you.”
“Then don’t,” Harry whispered back, moving closer.
They sank into another series of kisses that made Harry’s head feel like it was stuffed with cotton. He couldn’t stop touching Tom, letting his fingers trail over his chest and abdomen, re-memorizing everywhere he had touched before and everywhere he would touch again. Tom tucked Harry into his side, turning to press his naked body against Harry’s.
Harry hummed in response, letting his hand trail down Tom’s side toward his cock, which was standing proudly, waiting for Harry’s touch.
The moment his fingers brushed it, Tom hummed into his mouth but reached down to stop Harry’s movements.
“Do you trust me?” Tom asked again, this time trailing kisses over Harry’s cheek and jaw.
“Yes,” Harry answered, breathless.
“Then I need you to promise me something, not just for right now but always,” Tom whispered into Harry’s ear before he caught his earlobe between his teeth.
Harry gasped at the feeling, his eyes flying open but seeing nothing as Tom tugged lightly.
“Are you listening, Harry?”
“Yes,” Harry breathed.
“I need you to promise that if you don’t want to do something, or if there’s ever something that goes too far, you will tell me.”
Harry hummed in response, and Tom pulled away.
“No,” He said sternly, forcing Harry to look at him. “I need a verbal answer.”
“I promise,” Harry answered, seeing the seriousness in Tom’s eyes.
“Good.”
Tom didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before he reclaimed his lips so harshly that it made Harry moan. The sound seemed to draw a moan from Tom as well as he leaned back against the pillows once more, watching Harry closely.
Harry nuzzled against Tom’s neck for a moment, hearing a content sigh above him, before he trailed his lips back down Tom’s abdomen, aiming for his cock once more.
When he finally seemed to have what he wanted — he still wasn’t fully aroused himself, but he wanted to please Tom — he wasted no time wrapping his lips around the head of Tom’s cock and sucking. Above him, Tom moaned louder, enough that it rumbled through his body next to Harry’s ear, making him shiver.
He sucked in a breath through his nose before leaning down more, adjusting himself so that he could take all of Tom into his mouth. He watched, amused, as Tom’s leg twitched at the motion. Harry stayed there, feeling Tom’s cock in the back of his throat, cutting off his breath before he pulled back again, sucking gently as he did. He pulled off completely to take a breath, his hand pumping in place of his mouth before he returned. But this time, Tom, instead of letting Harry bury his cock in the back of his throat, stopped him. He didn’t guide him, merely held him place.
“Stay,” Tom whispered above him, only barely loud enough to be heard.
Harry hummed in confirmation, making Tom moan and twitch again before the two of them were still and silent.
Harry’s mouth watered from the position and Tom’s cock, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Now and then, he swallowed, hearing Tom suck in a breath above him.
The same fuzzy feeling, the one associated with Tom specifically, came back as Harry sat there, his body bent over Tom’s cock. Tom began to rub his back, his hand traveling over every tense muscle and working it over until Harry began to relax more.
He blinked sluggishly as he sat, his head partially rested against Tom’s abdomen while Tom’s other arm moved to provide more support for his head.
He continued to massage over Harry’s back, moving his shirt this way and that to find everywhere Harry was tender and remedy it.
Harry sucked slowly but mostly stayed still as Tom told him to do. The weight of Tom’s cock against his tongue was strangely comforting.
When Tom seemed satisfied that he had worked out the majority of the knots in Harry’s back, he focused on his neck, massaging muscles that were tense from how Harry held his head and others that were tense from stress.
Harry’s eyelashes fluttered again and finally fell shut as he leaned more against Tom, swallowing around his cock. Tom sucked in another breath above him but didn’t do anything else as the two of them sat there.
Tom’s hand moved to Harry’s jaw, massaging the hinge of his jaw lightly, though he was careful not to press too hard lest he force Harry’s jaw to close. Still, though, Harry couldn’t stop the moan that rumbled through him at the feeling over Tom’s hand near his throat.
Tom shifted his hand again, this time reaching forward to press his thumb against the pulse point on one side of Harry’s neck while his fingers pressed to the same spot on the other side. He squeezed, gently, but enough that Harry felt it.
The fuzzy feeling in his head was overwhelming now, to the point he felt almost like he was going to pass out, but it wasn’t quite the same. It felt like the strange peace he sometimes had before falling asleep. Not quite awake, not quite asleep, but floating somewhere in between.
After a moment, Tom let go of his throat, bucking into Harry’s mouth gently before he guided Harry off his cock completely.
Harry whined at the loss but was unable to do much more as Tom rearranged them both so Harry was on his back with Tom over him. He was still floating somewhere as Tom leaned down to kiss him gently. He chased Tom when he moved away, hearing a chuckle before Tom returned.
At the same time, he pushed Harry’s shirt upward and settled above his still-clothed hips. Harry looked at the sight in front of him as Tom pulled away, admiring Tom’s naked physique over his clothed body.
Tom was slowly pumping his cock, an action Harry soon joined. He watched as Tom’s eyes rolled back into his head briefly.
“Oh god, Harry,” Tom breathed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Harry nodded, too fuzzy to speak.
Tom’s whole body seized up as he came, falling forward on his arms just above Harry as his release decorated Harry’s bare abdomen.
It was only then that he realized why Tom had done what he did, sighing contently at the foresight.
When Tom’s body relaxed again, he leaned forward to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead before he climbed off of him. Harry whined again, blinking slowly as he looked for Tom. Tom shushed him, returning with tissues and a washcloth to clean him, and Harry belatedly remembered the sink in the room.
He didn’t care, though, as soon Tom was pulling his shirt down and climbing back into the bed with him.
Harry turned toward him, rolling onto his side to bury himself in Tom.
“’m tired,” Harry muttered, snuggling closer.
“I know, love,” Tom hummed, sounding satisfied above him. “I’ll get you home and to bed.”
“Ok,” Harry answered, not even caring how Tom planned on accomplishing such a task. He only cared that he felt Tom’s body next to his as he drifted in and out of that fuzzy feeling.
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying in his own bed with Tom next to him, still holding him as he had back at the club. He blinked sluggishly at Tom before curling into him more, letting that fuzzy feeling overtake him once again.
He had no idea how or when they made it home.