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Small man, lithe and lean, walked into Arkos making Mick’s cock harden in an instant.  Not half-mast, but full on ready-to-pound-ass hard.

From Mick’s vantage point, merely feet from the newcomer, he stared openly at the man who’d walked through the door.  Sweet and sensual and God’s gift to gay men.  Guy like him didn’t waltz into Arkos, the premier gay BDSM club in town, without knowing what he was getting into.

Pretty wasn’t the word for the stranger, neither was rugged.

The muscular legs were encased in black leather, Arkos’ material of choice.  So tight to almost look uncomfortable, the pants outlined the man’s cock, thick prick stretched down his leg.

He wore a tank top, material stretched over the lean muscles, showing off a set of pecs to make most men jealous and abs that he’d love to lick, pinch, beat and come all over.

But it was the man’s face that enchanted him.  Full lips begged to be kissed and he could imagine them wrapped around his dick, sucking and licking him to completion.  The man smiled as another sidled up to him and Mick beat down his jealousy.  Not a problem, he could adapt.  Or push his competition to the side.  The stranger’s nose was small, almost pert, with a bump across the bridge.  And those eyes… Bright blue they almost seemed to glow, framed in pitch black lashes and a thick line of eyeliner around the edges, making his eyes stand out even more.  His hair was ear length with a small wave, shaggy and sleep tousled.  Mick wanted to run his fingers through the silken locks, mess them up even more.

Mick spared a glance for the man standing next to his night’s date and wasn’t surprised to see the club’s owner, Nicholas, chatting up the boy.  He always spared a moment for stranger’s, showing the ropes, making sure no one came to harm.  Funny since the whole place was dedicated to causing pain in one form or another.

The stranger kept his eyes downcast while Nicholas spoke in his ear.  If it wasn’t for that tiny tell, letting Mick know he was looking at a submissive, the matching cuffs on his wrists would have.  Sweet, sweet little sub just looking for a man, him, to show him a good time.

Full of himself?  Absolutely.  He’d earned the title of Dom through years of practice, learning and God given need to dominate those around him both sexually and in every day life.

Nicholas met his eyes.  Feet separated them, but he could read his friend and business partner like a book.

Single raised eyebrow.

Want him?

He nodded his head in return.

Both eyebrows raised.

He’s hurting, you sure?

Ah, damn, sweet little thing and somebody had worked him over recently.  Maybe not his body, but probably fucked his mind.  Meant slow going and a good balance of sweet with the mean.  He could do both, hell, enjoyed dosing them out in equal measure.  It just meant he’d have to be careful with this one, not push too hard too fast and just fast enough to get him through this.  Whatever this was.

Mick nodded again, quick jerk of his head, not giving himself a chance to back out or say no.  He could do this, would do this.  He’d repair the poor subbie and help him get back on his feet.  Hopefully he didn’t lose his footing in the process.

Nicholas tilted his head to the side, a twitch of his shoulders followed, his lips still moved, whispering, keeping the man distracted.  Mick gathered his courage, ready to put the body behind the reputation and put this man back together.  He just hoped the sweet looking man with trusting eyes didn’t shatter in the process.

Mick watched, lithe body moving and shifting beneath his clothes while Nicholas directed the man to a secluded table.  It was Mick’s regular reserved area and the boy didn’t flinch or seem to object.  Boy either didn’t know or didn’t care.