Author's Note: So this is the result of insomnia-induced writing-sprees and having seen the Strokes video waaayyy too many times. So, yeah, it's inspired by that 'storyline' in the video. Hope you enjoy it!

The music is pounding in my ears so loudly that I can feel the bass reverberating through every bone in my body. Coloured lights flash and leave their vibrant shadows against the club walls, momentarily dyeing everything green, blue, red, yellow in ever-changing stripes. I weave through the sea of pulsing bodies, eyes searching for a familiar head of wavy, raven hair I'd seen barely a second ago. I know he's here. I fight my way through the crowd until I get to the bar, looking around me expectantly. He isn't here. I give him a few minutes longer. The bar-tender appears in front of me and hands me a drink and a napkin with a phone number and a message scrawled on it, saying it was left for me by a tall, dark-haired guy.

I smile as I sip at the vodka he's left for me, sliding a hand into my jacket pocket and sending a message to the number as instructed. Impatiently, I wait, sipping at my drink and waiting for the vibration of my phone, signalling a response. I let my eyes wander over the crowd, taking in the mass of dancing bodies guided by the heavy techno beat. I finally feel the buzzing of my phone in my jacket pocket, pulling it out to see the luminescent screen and read the message. Chugging back the last drop of my drink, I place the now empty glass on the bar before weaving my way through the crowd and towards the door of the club. Once outside, the frosty night air nipping at my face, I scan the empty street for a sign of him. He's nowhere to be seen, and just as I'm about to turn back into the club, my phone buzzes once more. I can't help but frown at the message before me. This seems to be unravelling into a game that I'm not willing to play. –All I wanted was a quick Friday night fuck, not to be led in some text-message treasure-hunt. As I contemplate the message, another one arrives and my eyes widen at the offer. 'promise to blow u if ur good…or bad.' -May be this will be worth it after all.

Tucking my phone back into my jacket pocket, I climb into my car and speed off to the bar in question, preparing myself for a long, long night…

There are more drinks awaiting me when I get there, as well as another scrawled paper-napkin message. It goes on until my hormones are high and the need pulsing through my veins is a force not to be ignored. I've had enough of this game- it's been too long. I've been trawling through the city, through all the bars and clubs, for the past two hours and now, I've had enough. It's been too long.

I find myself standing in the middle of the dance-floor of a club with the same bass-heavy-beat of every club before reverberating off the walls. I almost sigh with relief when the vibration from my jacket pocket indicates another message, this time a picture of the sign to the men's bathrooms lighting up the screen of my phone. Finally. Licking my lips and glancing down at the clue once more, I push my way through until I find myself staring at the bathrooms. My phone vibrates again and I glance down to see the screen flashing its message at me: 'White Shoes'.

I step into the bathroom and am immediately faced by a nervous looking boy hovering by the urinals. –I don't think it's him. Glancing down at his shoes confirms that it isn't, but then a glimpse of tapping white catches my eye from underneath a cubicle door. With a lustful grin I fling open the door, a pair of sweet, soft lips immediately attaching themselves to mine in the hottest of kisses, hands grabbing at the back of my shirt as tongues and teeth clash. I manage to pull back for a second, barely just enough time to confirm that it is him, the raven-haired beauty I've spent the entire night scouring the city for. His dark eyes glint wickedly as he flicks out his tongue to run over my lips, moving to whisper lowly in my ear. I cannot hold back the gasp that slips through my lips when he licks the shell of my ear before biting on my lobe sharply before slithering down my body until he's face to face with the bulge in my jeans.

Tearing open my jeans, he engulfs me in one fluid motion that makes my eyes roll back in my head, veins buzzing with a pleasure I'd craved all night. I let one of my hands tangle in his wild black locks, tightening around a handful of hair as he takes me right to the back of his throat, tightening his lips around my shaft so deliciously that I don't even try to restrain the moans he draws from me. He ducks down, working his tongue and lips with expert ease as he teases me and teases me until I have to close my eyes against the tears of frustration that threaten to leak forth. He brings me up to the edge, torturously close to climax before he tightens his grip around my base, stopping me from gaining the release I so desperately need. Over and over again, he teases me up before bringing me down again and I can barely speak for need of orgasm. And then my breath catches in my throat, the muscles of my lower stomach tightening almost painfully as he lightly drags his teeth over the tingling flesh of my erection, making my nerves sing.

"Fuck," I manage to grit out, and he chuckles, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting down the length of my shaft.

His every movement is so educated, so precise, that it isn't long until I find myself dancing dangerously close to the edge. This time, however, he makes no move to stop me from falling into a pleasured oblivion and though I feel obliged to warn him, I just can't find the breath to speak before my muscles tense and my vision blurs. Crying out hoarsely, the world around me seems to stop as I shoot my load down his throat, my hands tightening in his hair as he swallows every last liquid drop.

I slump back against the cold surface of the cubicle wall, gasping for breath as he cleans me up and tucks me back into my jeans. As I slowly open my eyes I see his sculpted face in front of me, a lop-sided grin gracing his lips. I grab the back of his head and pull him closer to me, bumping our lips together in a clumsy, needy kiss that sends shivers down my spine and makes my toes curl. With his body pressed against me, I can feel his erection pressing against my thigh and I grab his ass, pulling him even closer to me and smiling when he gasps at the sudden increase of pressure against his groin. He makes a move to step backwards, but I'm having none of it, holding him firmly against me as I grind my hips against him, pushing our bodies together until he's the one pressed against the cubicle wall.

"Stop," he manages to gasp, but I ignore his request, claiming his lips in a biting kiss as I continue to grind and writhe against him.

He doesn't try to protest again as we dry-hump, the friction of our clothed bodies mercilessly pushing him to the edge faster than I thought it would. Our jean-clad groins bump and brush against each other, and he gasps with every sinful touch. The air is filled with the sounds of his sobbing breaths and my heated groans; we don't care who hears us, if everyone hears us. This cubicle contains all that is important right now.

Sliding my hand down between our bodies, I cup his hard-on through his jeans, slowly rubbing the length of his erection and savouring the choked gasps and shudders I manage to elicit from him. His entire body is shaking as he clutches at my shirt, as though it's the only thing stopping him from collapsing to the floor in a sweaty, writhing mess. I lean forward to crush our lips together in a kiss that grows more heated by the moment, until he's moaning helplessly into my mouth. I can tell that it isn't going to be much longer until he comes, and I unzip his jeans and carefully ease out his leaking erection. Wrapping my hand firmly around his throbbing length, I give it a few practised pumps in my fist before he stiffens, gasping in a breath before letting it out in a strained groan as he shoots in my hand.

I lean forward and continue kissing him as his body shudders against mine, until finally he falls back against the cubicle wall and opens his eyes to look at me somewhat dazedly. We stand there staring at each other, chests heaving. I reach over to grab some tissues, cleaning him up and wiping his cum from my hand before he zips himself back up. Moving so that I'm leaning against the wall next to him, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a packet of smokes, tapping out a cigarette which I light up. I take a long, satisfying drag before offering him a puff, which he accepts and gratefully takes a pull from.

"Fuck," he finally mutters, looking over at me with beautifully dark eyes as he hands back my cigarette, "I knew it would be so worth it."

I hum my agreement, inhaling the nicotine-tinged smoke deep into my lungs before handing him the cancer-stick again. We stand there, leaning against the cubicle wall and passing the cigarette between each other until it burns down to a stub. He drops it to the floor and grinds his boot-heel on it before casting me a wry grin and reaching over to kiss me in the corner of my mouth.

"My name's Owen, by the way," he says, standing upright and straightening out his clothes.

Giving me another lust-filled look, he smirks and saunters out of the cubicle without another word.

I wait until I hear the bathroom door swing shut before I step out, lighting up another cigarette and coming face-to-face with the same, nervous-looking boy that was by the urinals when I came in. Only now, he looks perfectly mortified. –I have no idea why he stuck around, especially when he looks as terrified as he does right now, but I just give him a bawdy wink before stepping back out into the club. I'm immediately faced by the rainbow strips of coloured lights flashing around the otherwise dark club, the dance-floor pulsing with twisting, writhing bodies. It's the same as every night, in every club.

I'm surprised when I feel my phone vibrating in my jacket pocket again and pull it out to see the flashing message on the screen. 'wht r u still doin here? go get laid. cute blond here by the bar. have fun- i kno u will.' Grinning, I tuck my phone back into my pocket and make way towards the bar, where there is actually a pretty cute blond. Casting my eyes around for another glimpse of Owen- whom I can't see anywhere- I make my way to the bar and slide the said blond a slip of paper with my number on it. And some instructions.