Chapter 2

The throb of bass pulsed through the dimly lit club, a cavernous space shrouded in shadows and punctuated by flashes of colored strobes that cut through the haze like searchlights. Chains and leather straps dangled from the ceiling, each hinting at untold stories of dominance and submission. The scent of musk and latex mingled with the tang of sweat, creating an olfactory tapestry as rich and complex as the patrons who navigated the maze of desire.

Brody Ayers reclined against the polished obsidian surface of the bar, a glass of Coke cradled loosely between his fingers. His gaze swept languidly across the familiar tableau of writhing bodies. Some were bound in intricate knots, their Masters commanding them with firm hands and unspoken commands. Others were serving their Doms, openly or more discreetly, kneeling under a table as they suckled their Dom's cock.

In a small corner, a dance floor had been set up, packed with barely clad bodies pressed tightly together. One collared sub had been pushed against the wall by his Dom, and everyone who wanted to could have a go at his ass.

In another corner, Brody's younger roommate, Elya, was kneeling for his Dom-of-the-night, a man Brody knew well and who would treat the kid right. As much as Brody loved being a Dom, he'd made it clear when they'd met that he wouldn't cross any lines with Elya. The kid was cute and super eager, but they were roommates and nothing more. Elya had wholeheartedly agreed, and now he was like a little brother to Brody.

Brody sighed. As arousing as it all was, it didn't tempt him in the least. The scene had become a repetitive dance that no longer quickened his pulse or stirred his yearning. A craving for something new, something unpredictable, gnawed at the edges of his consciousness—a hunger for a connection that transcended the physicality of the club's offerings. He loved dominating, and he loved fucking, but something was missing.

As he contemplated the weight of his solitude, the club's heavy door swung open, admitting a gust of cool air and a quartet of men. Brody knew three of them, all regulars of the club. But the fourth one was new, a vision of youthful confidence clad in tight red hot pants and sexy-as-fuck black thigh-high boots. Brody couldn't take his eyes off the newcomer as he walked with an effortless grace that spoke volumes of his innate sensuality. His harness showed off his slender frame, and his makeup accentuated rather than obscured his natural beauty. His blond hair fell in a casual sweep over bright-blue eyes that sparkled with an inner fire. He was, in one word, precious, like a rare gem among pebbles.

Brody's gaze followed the boy as he navigated through the crowd, the pulsating lights casting a hypnotic glow on his fair skin. The music throbbed like a living heartbeat, bass notes reverberating through the floor and into Brody's bones. He felt alive in a way he hadn't felt in months, maybe even longer.

The two Doms kissed their sub, then left the two boys on the dance floor, mere feet from Brody, and he kept his eyes on them. The boy's laughter, musical and free, carried over the din as he interacted with his companion, the bond between them palpable even from a distance. His movements displayed an air of flirtation, a playful tilt to his head as he teased and bantered. Yet beneath the veneer of confidence, Brody sensed a thread of vulnerability—a fear of being too much yet not enough—that drew him in further.

He watched, entranced, as the boy danced to the beat, the sensuality of his movements arousing. The choreography between him and his friend was unspoken yet perfectly synchronized. They were close. It was etched into every gesture, every laugh they shared over the music. And as much as Brody appreciated the bond between them, he wanted the boy for himself.

"Brody, you old hound, eyeing up the fresh meat?" Jake, the bartender, teased. As a longtime acquaintance, he knew Brody's tastes well.

"Perhaps," Brody said with a half-smile, sipping his Coke. "There's something about him—something different."

"He's pretty."

"That, he is."

"He's wearing a green wristband. You better move in fast before someone else claims him."

Brody's heart picked up tempo as the boy navigated the throng of bodies with the ease of one who belonged yet stood apart. Brody's intrigue deepened, his Dom instincts homing in on the subtle cues of submission the boy unconsciously projected. It was a siren call to Brody's dominant nature, one he felt powerless to resist.

Jake wasn't wrong that someone would snatch the boy up if Brody didn't move quickly. Brody set down his glass with newfound resolve. He wasn't a dancer, but he would be whatever he needed to get closer to this boy.

Compelled by a force stronger than mere attraction, Brody strode toward the dance floor, his larger frame cutting through the mass of bodies with purpose. He reached the edge just as the boy spun, his blue eyes catching the light and his gaze locking with Brody's.

"Mind if I join you?" Brody held out his hand.

The boy's eyes widened before he caught himself and took Brody's hand. "Yes, Sir. I mean, not at all, Sir. I don't mind."

He was nervous. Somehow, that reassured Brody. He tugged the boy's hand, inviting him to come closer, and after a quick look at his companion, he did. "What's your name, pretty?"

"J-Josiah, Sir."

"Josiah. It fits you. I'm Brody."

"Hi. Sir."

He was adorable.

"Jo." His friend leaned in and whispered something in Josiah's ear. Josiah nodded.

"Sir?" his friend addressed Brody. "Just wanted you to know that one of my partners is a cop and the other a federal agent."

Brody swallowed back the trickle of alarm that always emerged when he heard words like cop and federal agent. Nine years later, the thought of someone discovering his real identity was as frightening as it had always been. Would that ever change?

But he shouldn't overreact. Maybe it wasn't even entirely the truth. The boy was looking out for his friend, and Brody appreciated that. "Message received. I promise I'll take good care of him and deliver him back to you when we're done, okay?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

After a last nod to Josiah, he walked off, leaving Brody with Josiah. He pulled him closer. "Seems like I have you all to myself now."

Brody's body instinctively moved to guide Josiah's with gentle firmness.

"Yes, Sir." Josiah matched Brody's pace step for step.

Brody subtly pressed himself against Josiah, who reached his shoulder. He'd never been with someone that much smaller, but he liked it. Stereotypical as it might sound—and Brody had always tried to buck stereotypes—it reinforced his sense of dominance over Josiah, who plastered himself against Brody. At least he wasn't without experience, though Brody wondered if the boy had much experience as a sub.

Their dance evolved, growing more intimate with each passing second. Brody led, and Josiah followed—a subtle but undeniable declaration of their dynamic, a dance of promise, a prelude to much more. A thrill surged through Brody's veins. The club's pulsating lights painted them in colorful shades as they swayed together, the world narrowing to the shared tempo of their bodies and the silent conversation held in their locked eyes.

"Feels like we're the only two people here," Josiah murmured.

A bead of sweat traveled down Josiah's neck, and the urge to chase it with his tongue was nearly overwhelming. "Is that right?"

Josiah chuckled, a sound that skittered across Brody's skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You make it feel that way."

Their dance was a seductive tangle, limbs intertwined, hips grinding in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each motion was a flirtatious tease, and when Josiah slid his hand around Brody's waist and tugged him closer, Brody could no longer resist the magnetic pull of those full lips.

Capturing Josiah's mouth with his own felt like staking a claim. He surged into his mouth, unable to hold back, and Josiah opened for him beautifully and eagerly. Their tongues met, but Josiah allowed Brody to take charge and set the pace, and so he did, chasing him, leisurely roaming that sweet mouth.

The kiss was searing and potent, the taste of him better than any high-end whiskey. Brody delved deeper, pulling him impossibly close as if he wanted to crawl inside him. Josiah's eyes were dark pools of need, and he responded with equal fervor, his fingers digging into Brody's shoulders, anchoring him in the here and now, where every nerve ending flared alive with want.

"Fuck," Brody muttered against Josiah's lips, the word a growl of arousal. They were both hard, the evidence pressed unapologetically between them. "Let's find somewhere quieter."

Brody's hands were steady despite the torrent of lust coursing through him. He led Josiah away from the chaos of the dance floor, craving the intimacy of a private conversation, the chance to discover the man behind the teasing smiles and sensual moves. Oh, he wanted to fuck him and dominate him, but he was strangely curious about who he was too.

They slipped through the crowd, and the noise gradually faded as they found refuge in a dimly lit corner far removed from the thumping music and writhing bodies. The relative silence felt like a sanctuary where the rest of the world couldn't touch them.

"Better?" Brody brushed a stray lock of hair from Josiah's forehead, marveling at the softness beneath his fingertips.

"Much." Josiah leaned into the touch, his expression open and trusting.

Brody sat on a faded bench and tapped his thigh. "Wanna come sit on my lap?"

"Yes, Sir."

That blush was exquisite. Brody loved it. "You're gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're new here."

Josiah nodded. "I'm visiting my best friend, the one I was on the dance floor with. I live in Chicago."

Damn. That was not what Brody had wanted to hear. "What do you do in life?"

"I'm a designer. I make custom purses and accessories and some clothes as well."

"A creative. I love that."

"And you, Sir?"

Brody shook his head, grinning. "Nothing creative, I'm afraid. I'm a financial analyst, and I have a very boring job."

"So what do you do for fun, Sir?" Josiah trailed a finger down Brody's bare chest.

Brody caught his hand. "I don't think I gave you permission to touch me."

Josiah froze. "Sorry, Sir."

Brody laughed. "Something tells me you're not all that sorry. You look like you're a handful."

The laugh was wiped off Josiah's face. Oh, he did not like that comment. Brody would have to figure out why later. For now, he needed to do some damage control. "Good thing I like a challenge."

"I'mhighmaintenance," Josiah mumbled.

Brody tilted his chin up. "What was that, boy?"

Josiah worried his bottom lip, his eyes a little musty. "I've been told I'm high maintenance," he finally whispered, barely audible over the background noises.

"High maintenance? How?"

"I don't know, Sir, but I've never… I haven't been able to… I've been looking for a Dom for quite some time now, and every time I think I've found someone, they back off because I'm too much."

What? That didn't make sense at all. "If high maintenance means bratty, we won't have a problem because I like my boys with a little spunk. And if you push me too far, well, that's something a good spanking can fix."

A delicious blush crept over Josiah's cheeks. He liked that idea, didn't he? "You like spankings?" Brody asked.

"I think so, Sir, but I've never had one."

Brody slipped his hand under Josiah's bottom and gave it a good squeeze. "You're already so pretty, but I bet you'd be even more gorgeous with my handprints all over your ass."

Josiah swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

"Would you like that, Josiah? Would you like me to spank your bottom until it's all hot and throbbing?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Maybe fuck you right after, hmm? Your ass will be tight from the spanking, and I'll feel twice as big… and I'm already sizable, to begin with."

Josiah lifted his chin an inch. "I can take you, Sir."

"You sure of that, boy?"

Josiah shifted his weight, grinding down on Brody's hard cock. "I'm a bit of a size queen, Sir."

A size queen. Brody preferred that term over the much more common size whore. "That's good to know and definitely something I'm happy to test." He considered the man on his lap—so vibrant, so eager. "Maybe we should have some fun with that, see how much you can take. What do you say, Josiah? Do you want to play with me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I need to ask, boy. How much experience do you have? Are you completely new at this, or…?"

"I've done multiple scenes, but nothing elaborate, and I've never had a regular Dom. We did a little D/s play, some mild bondage. I tried humiliation play, but that wasn't my thing."

"That's fine because it's not my jam either. And being new isn't a bad thing," Brody reassured him, his gaze softening. "We all start somewhere. Do you have a specific safeword?"

"I figured it would be best to use the traffic light system."

"It is, since we all know it, so that works. Anything else I need to know? We're not gonna make this intense, so I won't go anywhere near any limits, but do you have any triggers I need to be aware of? Any unusual limits?"

"I don't think so. Well, I'm super ticklish, but?—"

"Are you now?" Brody grinned. "That's good to know."

"Hey, I didn't say that so you could use it against me. Sir."

Brody clicked his tongue. "Boy, anything you say to a Dom can and will be used against you."

"But that's not fair!"

"Who said anything about fair?" Brody caught Josiah's chin between his thumb and index finger. "Do I have your consent to fuck you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Oral okay too?"

"Yes, Sir."

Brody's gaze lingered on the curve of Josiah's jaw, not a hint of stubble, the softness of his skin inviting Brody's touch. The cacophony of the outside world seemed to mute, leaving only thrumming anticipation vibrating through Brody.

He took a deep breath. "Let's find somewhere more private."