The tall, powerfully built, dark-haired man gazed blandly, almost with boredom, at the people below him. Men and women, some in mixed or single sex pairs or in mixed or single groups, some clearly Dom/Sub, but all with one thing in common. Leather.
He moved to sit on a luxurious black leather settee situated on a circular mezzanine. The scene below was watched through dark glass allowing him to observe whilst remaining unseen.
The Club was exclusive, even for those milling below. The gold circlet around a well-developed bicep denoted his extra special status. In addition to the settee on which he sat , there was a low table in front and a small, enclosed booth behind. His was one of thirty such booths. It held a divan and, if the desire so arose, he could enter it, activate a switch to alert Club security to the need for privacy and it would be appropriately despatched. Downstairs, more public liaisons occurred, but the tall man had no interest in them. Upstairs, as down, boasted a games room, dance floor and fantastically well stocked bar. The prices, however, had caused his eyebrows to rise.
Acknowledging he had something of an exhibitionist streak, he ruminated that having duly experienced the Club, he knew this scene wasn't for him - and more importantly - wasn't for the slender blond sitting closely at his side. He slid a strong arm around the slim form, protectively and possessively. Whilst the Club wasn't for them, the clothes were something else entirely. He knew he looked more than good. He wore thick leather pants and biker boots, a pristine white T with a knee-length sleeveless leather waistcoat over. The outfit emphasised his strength, musculature and masculinity.
But the outfit his partner wore... he was half hard just thinking about it and his mouth watered in anticipation. It was the same reaction as he had when seeing them dress at home. Black leather over-the-knee boots with a two inch steel stiletto heel reached up onto smooth, honey-tinted thighs. A black leather mini-skirt reached just below taut buttocks. Above the skirt was a sleeveless top of mesh and leather which periodically gave a tantalising glimpse of dark nipples and areola. The pale, slender neck was encircled by a black leather collar studded with diamante and had a matching leash. He didn't lead the blond, however. Instead he watched slim hips sway provocatively as they walked ahead and he watched heads turn in a mix of avarice, admiration and arousal. But as much as they could look, he would rip the hand off anyone who tried to touch. His partner's blond hair glowed like burnished gold, eyes held a minute touch of turquoise shadow to emphasise their blueness and a slick of gloss made the perfect lips glisten enticingly. He leant to inhale musk and vanilla.
"You ok?" he asked quietly.
"Fine," came the reply, but the eyes added a silent plea for the bigger man to stay at their side.
"Time for a last walkabout downstairs," the dark male said more loudly and attached the leash.
The blond preceded him, apparently ignoring all around them, but both were carefully and covertly scanning those watching them. The bigger man felt heat pooling further at his groin at the sight of his ravishing mate and was grateful that the thick leather would hide much of his arousal. Completing a circuit, they returned to the mezzanine and headed to their booth. The dark man growled warningly as a blond male approached, his green eyes devouring his partner.
The interloper was physically similar to the dark haired man, but the eyes held an arrogance the other man's didn't. The small blond stepped back to press against a powerful chest, feeling the interloper's jealous eyes undressing them.
"You share?" the big blond asked the dark man without preamble.
"No," came the measured reply. "I like others to see what they can't have."
"Pity," the other said, still staring. "A little pretty like this would look good on their hands and knees pleasuring us both."
A frisson from their partner's body had the dark male's protectiveness surging. He wrapped an arm around the trim waist and met the green eyes with resolute hazel orbs.
"Never going to happen," he growled menacingly. The tone worked instantly. Green eyes left the smaller body and the man drifted away.
The blond was turned in strong arms and a hand rubbed at the front of the mini-skirt. A small nod from them and the bigger man hurried to their booth. The blond disappeared inside and the dark man activated the privacy switch. He stood and waited until a human behemoth arrived and stood like a silent sentinel outside and then joined their mate on the divan. There was little light, but none was needed. Lips found lips without difficulty and bodies were crushed tightly together.
The blond was pushed to their back; the skirt hiked up around their waist and even in the near darkness, the other man could see the small leather pouch that housed his mate's aroused sex. He pulled it aside letting their erection spring free and buried his face in the small nest of fragrant blond curls at the base of the slender rod. He lapped at the almost hairless sac, sucking slowly and sensually on one then the other precious orb it housed. He licked his way from root to tip of the hard, hot flesh and then sucked at the engorged head, savouring his mate's musk and pre-come. He drank the intoxicating fluid greedily, his tongue traced the vein his eyes couldn't see and the smaller man writhed beneath him, clutching at him with deceptively strong hands. In response he engulfed straining flesh to the root and swallowed repeatedly. A muted grunt was the only verbal indication his mate had reached his zenith, but the pulses of salty sweet nectar were joyfully accepted as a tribute to the bigger man's lovemaking.
Gently, the sated organ slid from voracious lips and the still trembling body was lifted to sit securely cradled to a broad chest. Kisses were exchanged, just as silently. When satisfied his mate was sufficiently recovered, the dark man headed back to the front of the booth and turned off the switch. He watched their security guard lift his hand to his ear-set and, without so much as a glance in the booth's direction, he left as silently as he had come.
The two men sat smiling on the settee.
"Soon time to leave, Stewie," the bigger man murmured.
"I'm down with that, Jaze," the blond replied.
"As soon as the witching hour comes round we're out of here," Jaze said.
"Yeah, I know," Stewie grinned. "You gotta take Cinders here home before the clothes become sackcloth and ashes and the car becomes a pumpkin."
Jaze grinned back, caressing the smooth, soft cheek. His eyes spoke the words he couldn't say aloud.
"Right back at you, Jaze," Stewie murmured nuzzling the older man.
As the time to leave came round, Jaze re-leashed Stewie and the blond led the way to the rear exit that led to the car park. As they stepped outside, Jaze removed the leash and the two men walked towards their car in the half-empty lot.
Without warning a bright light shone in their faces, temporarily blinding both men. Jaze felt Stewie yanked from his side even as he bellowed the call sign for back up. His arms were pulled behind him and heavy fists pummelled at his unprotected abdomen. Ignoring the pain, he twisted sharply and punched where his attacker's body should be, pleased at the pained grunt from the successful contact. However, a blow to his lower back told him there were more assailants than just two.
Stewie had been physically lifted from Jaze's side. A thick arm was around his throat and another round his waist. Stewie heard vile words of hatred; words that told him what he was, what he was good for and what would be done to him. Stewie tried to block them out as the visions of previously beaten and raped couples sprang into his mind. He wouldn't let this scum get away with any more attacks on the innocent. Adrenalin coursed through his veins. With a strength his slender form belied, Stewie kicked back. His heel rammed into his attacker's leg and the grip on him lessened as a howl of pain came from the bigger man behind him. Stewie followed up the kick with a hard elbow and this time he was able to drop free.
Stewie tried to pivot to land another kick, but he forgot he was wearing stiletto heels and his ankle twisted. He fell to the ground, his knees scraping on gravel. He immediately tried to regain his feet, but a solid weight landed on his back, driving his face into unforgiving cement. Stewie was dazed as he was effortlessly flipped onto his back. He could see the anger and hate in the eyes of the man straddling him. A strong hand grabbed his jaw, forcing it open and another forced a syringe between his lips. Stewie was unable to prevent its contents being discharged and swallowing some, spitting the rest as best he could. Stewie saw the grin of pure evil on the face above him.
