The pulse noise called his name, made his heart skip a beat, made his body hum in ways he hadn't even thought it would. Daryl never really had the itch to do anything out of the norm. Not a country boy like him. No, now he was in the big, bad city, and free…that being the most important part. Here he wasn't under anyone's rule but his own, fresh and on his own for the first time. He dressed up in tight pressed jeans and a white beater, black vest over, and hair sticking to his pale cheeks; fresh twenty curled up in his pocket for a drink or two, whatever that number could afford.
He flashed an ID to the bouncer and walked inside. The smell, oh the smell was nothing but the press of body and sweat, liquor and clinking glasses, and he loved it. He fucking loved it. Little did he know that he walked into a club where collar meant ownership, and fresh skin meant you were up for grabs, and at that moment a predator was lurking, watching his every move. Daryl never even saw him coming…
Daryl strolled up to the bar, put his twenty down and ordered a double of vodka and cranberry. He sucked on his lip and waited for his drink to be made. When it was placed down in front of him he all but purred and took a swallow, glancing from the corner of his eye that someone was coming toward him. He gulped down another drink and gave a small albeit smile. "Hi." It was simple, it was inviting, and it made Daryl feel like a fucking idiot.
"Hello." Came his answer.
"I'm new here," Daryl started, "is this a good hang out?" Clearly he wasn't even used to this environment but Daryl was willing to try. Maybe awkward, but he was going to try. He came out of the 'closet' to his brother Merle a few months back and he had gotten his ass kicked proper, but he stood his ground, and said it wasn't going to change the fact he was still the same person, just that he chose to love men instead. Hell, he'd never liked girls anyway. Not even the night he lost virginity to Suzy-Lee in the backseat of her father's mustang with the latest country star singing through the speakers, his hands up her dress, thumbs pressing into a sharp cut of hip. Even when she screamed 'harder' he wanted to be her, feel what she was feeling, be on his back and be…controlled.
"I think you came to the wrong playground, country boy, this isn't down-home, if you get what I mean. Clearly you're in the wrong bar," the man answered, "I think you should scoot along and go play with your kind."
"My kind," Daryl growled, "and what the hell do you know about my kind?" He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the stranger, dressed in a three piece and looking stuffy, black waves slicked back and a wicked smirk slapped across perfectly shaped lips, and damn it if Daryl didn't want to suck that snarky smile away.
The stranger's hand reached out and curled into the top of his tank top, leading him away from the bar and into a somewhat quiet hallway away from others. They were all but lip to lip when the stranger began to speak again. "You don't know, do you, baby boy? Do you know what this is? This is a bar for little boy's like you to be snatched up, and without a collar on you're ready for the taking, are you following me?"
"No-Not exactly," he stammered, pulse jumping at the proximity of the other man's lips to his own.
"Thought not. What this means is that I'm going to take you back to my place and fuck that pretty little ass of yours until you have nothing left but to scream my name, means I'm going to make it hurt so good you'll come running back begging for more. What do you think of that, baby boy?"
Daryl saw red, his eyes flashed anger, but his body betrayed him, made his cock swell, and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. "I'm not…who the fuck do you think you are anyway, trying to say that shit to me, ain't gonna happen, all right?"
"Oh I think not, I think your lips are selling a lie your body can't handle. I'm Shane, by the way, just so you know what to be screaming later." He loosened up on the boy's collar but reached into his pocket and dangled a little black cord, meant for around someone's neck. It wasn't a proper offering of domination, but it would do for a one night plaything.
"I think I'm gonna need a stronger drink," Daryl thought out loud, following behind the man known as Shane, right up to the bar, and behind him. He fidgeted with the black cord now around his neck. He felt like a whore, like someone cheap and dirty and deep down…he liked it, he fucking liked it.
Once he was in the car, in the backseat with the windows tinted, driver up in the front, Daryl finally felt cornered. He felt like a wild animal in the presence of its predator. "So I have rules, just a few little bits of information that I want you to follow."
"I haven't…done any of this before," and god damn it if he wasn't slurring. Daryl hated the fact he sounded weak but in this situation he was in unknown territory, exploring barren lands he had never been too, and honestly he was terrified, but he was also excited.
A devilish smile spread across Shane's lips. "Oh I know, sweetheart, I know. Number one, you're out by morning. I don't want you thinking this is something of a relationship. Number two, don't try and find me, don't stalk me, if I want you I'll come to you."
Daryl rolled his eyes but nodded his head.
"I think what I'm looking for in this moment is a 'yes'."
"Yes," Daryl whispered, eyes sliding to the side but not quite meeting Shane's face.
When they pulled out front of a high rise, he swallowed down his nerves and relied on the alcohol to do most of the work, make him less anxious, less nervous, but that wasn't really working. He followed up into the elevator and up to the glamorous apartment with its own private floor. When the door slid shut he wouldn't ever forget those words, not for the rest of his life.
"On your fucking knees."