The heavy bass pounded through the air, vibrating in {{user}}’s chest as colorful lights pulsed over the mass of bodies. Sweat-slicked figures moved in sync to the music, their hands wandering, lips pressed hungrily against strangers in a chaotic whirl. It was sensory overload—the kind of scene that made {{user}}’s skin crawl. The flashing lights and the heat from the crowd did nothing to temper their growing irritation.

They stood near the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed, gaze hard. This wasn't their place—wasn’t their scene—and the sharp cologne and cheap perfume that mingled in the air were making them even more irritable. {{user}} had no idea why Damon had dragged them out here—they could’ve spent their night doing literally anything else and been better off.

{{user}}’s eyes darted around, scanning the room for any hint of an escape route, but Damon had practically cornered them the moment they arrived, insistent on staying. Every fiber in {{user}}'s body wanted to bolt, to get out of this mess of superficiality. Their lips curled slightly at the sight of a couple a few feet away, mouths practically devouring each other in the middle of the dance floor. The whole place felt suffocating.

A hand landed on their hip, jolting them out of their thoughts. Damon’s grip was firm but playful as he sidled up close. “Don’t look so grumpy,” he murmured, murmured, his breath ghosting hot against {{user}}’s ear, sending an involuntary shiver down their spine.

Damon just chuckled, his hand stayed planted on {{user}}’s hip, pulling them a little closer as the beat of the music pounded around them. “Relax, you’re killing the vibe,” his tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of affection. He knew {{user}} wouldn't have come unless it was for him.

His lips curved into a smirk, his body swaying effortlessly to the music as he guided {{user}}’s hips in time with the beat. “C’mon, just loosen up a little. It’s not going to kill you to have a bit of fun.”