DamaraXReader

	You can’t hear a damn thing; the pounding beat of the music is dulling everything into excited white noise. You can feel sweat trickle down your back as you bake in the heat of so many bodies grinding and flailing in such a small space. Your mouth is dry despite the copious number of drinks you’ve thrown back, and every breath you take stinks of smoke and sweat.  All you can see is silhouettes as the lights flicker and dim, before they blind you with a sea of colourful clothing, grey skin and a forest of orange horns twisted into impossible patterns. In the morning, you’ll probably call it the time of your life. Once the headache subsides, of course.
	You have to admit, you weren’t expecting this many people to be here. You guess “private party” means less out here. You swear you can see the same few faces even as you push your way through the wildly undulating crowd; some of them are pretty nice too. A hottie covered in winding tattoos gives you a sordid wink as she grinds back into the crotch of a sweaty bruiser. A fifties greaser blows you a kiss, his unlit cigarette dropping to the floor and disappearing forever. A pair of near -or perhaps perfectly- identical girls make out in a corner, their tongues exploring a whole lot more than just each other’s mouths. None of them matter to you; you have your eyes set on one girl in particular.
	She’s been giving you eyes all night; cute little thing too. Slender. Petite. Pair of ram’s horns curling out of her temples with a bun nested between. The bun’s come undone since you last saw her; her hair’s tumbling down her back like a shimmering waterfall. She’s smoking something. You’re not sure what, but it definitely isn’t a cigarette. She looks you up and down as you push yourself past some skinny geek in yellow and bites her lower lip; the sharp fangs almost draw blood. You half lean half collapse against the wall next to her, smiling in what you hope is a charming manner. She giggles. Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. You ask for her name. She replies, but you don’t catch it in all the noise. You tell her yours and ask what she thinks of the party. Again, she replies, but you don’t understand a word she’s saying; seems like her accent is as thick as the cheap beer is dilute. You laugh it off; she laughs back. You ask her if she’s doing anything later, straining your ears against the incessant bass. She looks you up and down again. She says something you don’t understand. And then grabs your crotch.
	Well, that’s one way to get the message across.
	Next thing you know your lips are crushed against hers as the two of you fumble through the crowd and out the back door. It’s cooler out here, and secluded; seems like no one else is as eager as the two of you. You can taste the herbal smoke on her breath and press her into the wall, grinding your hips against hers. She gasps as you rip her white shirt open, exposing the simple red bra beneath. Her tongue is wrapped around yours and her hands are entangling themselves into your hair. With one hand you grope her small but pert breasts whilst the other runs up her thighs and under her skirt to grind its fingers against her panties. She moans into the kiss and pulls you closer, a hand snaking down to fumble with your belt-buckle.
	It doesn’t take long before your belt is in her hands and you can feel her wetness through the thin cotton. She breaks the kiss and moans something. You take the opportunity to kiss her neck, chuckling to yourself as she gasps. She pushes you back against you, rambling for a second or two; it’s only when your back is pressed against the opposite wall and she’s giving your collarbone a few light nips that you understand. Her hands slowly run down your arms and hips grind against your already rock-hard cock. You let your head roll back as she kisses up your neck. God, you want to get your hands on that tight little arse…
It isn’t until you try that you notice the hard leather wrapped about your wrists. You flick your head over your shoulder and then back to her; the little minx has tied you round a drain pipe. She smirks and giggles, slowly dropping to her knees. Her hands slide down your torso and rest at your thighs; she says something with a look of mock innocence so unconvincing your cock twitches in anticipation. It takes her all of a second to undo your trousers. All of another to yank your boxers down enough for your shaft to stick proud and free. She purrs a soft sound of what you think is amazement and plants a kiss at the base, pausing to breath in your musk. Her tongue softly runs along the underside, giving the tip a quick flick which makes you gasp aloud. She giggles and slowly repeats, her mischievous red and yellow eyes locked with yours.
	You let out an involuntary groan as the grey girl continues to tease your cock: peppering it with short, sloppy kisses; swirling her tongue around your tip; gently grazing the tips of her teeth along it. One of her hands has disappeared past the hem of her skirt to send shivers up her spine and punctuate her performance with soft squeaks and sharp gasps. He swear as she kisses the head of your cock, begging her to go further. She just smiles cruelly and continues to build the aching pressure in your groin further and further, giggling as your hands rattle in their improvised prison. Fuck, you just want to grab the bitch by her curled horns and pound her mouth like a cheap fleshlight! Every time you get close to tipping over the edge she just slows herself down again, batting her eyelashes like she doesn’t know how desperately you want- no, need to cum.
	A sharp crack tells you that the cheap buckle has finally shattered; with a roar you grab the slut by her hips and slam her into the wall. She yelps in surprise and pain before you silence her with your lips, your hands pawing at her skirt. You rip her panties aside, tossing the flimsy rag to one side, slamming your cock as deep into her sopping wet cunt with no hesitation. She gasps and rolls her eyes back, her legs almost instinctively wrapping about your hips. Her red nails dig into your shoulders and she screams bloody murder as you pound yourself into her tight hole, growling and panting with animalistic lust. The slap of flesh meeting flesh grows louder as you thrust faster and harder, trying your damndest to throw yourself over the edge; you just need one… more… thrust!
	You both cum with a shout and a shriek, tensing against one another as your cock erupts inside her tightening walls. You exhaustedly pant in unison, her legs still wrapped tightly about you, and stare into each others faces. She looks shocked, a little scared… but definitely satisfied. You untangle your limbs, a few drops of cum dripping out of her and onto the dirty street. You start to say something, but she just presses her finger to your lips. She grins impishly, re-buttoning her sweat-soaked shirt. She pecks your cheek, pats your pocket and shakily struts her way back into the club, pausing to flick her skirt up to remind you of her missing underwear. You zip yourself back up, slipping your hand into your trousers and remerging with a small scrap of paper with a chumhandle written on it in incredibly beautiful handwriting.
	You smile to yourself, and make your way back into the club; screw the morning, you can already call it the night of your life.