Roman stares out amongst one of the main rooms of this particular Kingdom from an elegant balcony. He never participated, but loved watching the festivities. Seeing others unwind, discover their sexualities and come into completion like this…it was what he lived for. It's why he built this empire. Sure, it was lonely at times. Money was always flowing, there was always a submissive willing to be bed (although he had stopped taking them up on offers years ago), but more often than not he finds himself wishing for someone to share this empire with.
He snaps out of his thoughts, however, when Dolph arrives with a Jack and coke as requested, giving him a small smile and nodding off to make his way back downstairs to serve the masses. Sipping at his drink silently, the Samoan scans the crowd, seeing mostly regulars but a few fresh and new faces. Ah, there's Toni and Jack scampering off to a private room. Those two had been consistent members for three years now, married after two, and yet every night seemed like their honeymoon.
Roman was more than a little jealous at that aspect. He continues his scanning, however, smiling at the mingling and mixing of leather and lace, before his eyes stop at the sight of a body with its back turned to the party as sitting solo at the bar.
That wasn't completely unusual, more than a few patrons loved to flirt with or ask Alberto when his shift was done, but that wasn't the case. The Mexican was off to the other side of the bar, that lone figure with jeans and a faded hoodie and sandy, nearly red-brown hair wasn't pursuing him.
Something sank in Roman's hear a little bit for this man. It was quite obviously his first time here, Roman knew as many of his members by name and face as possible, but he was drawing a complete blank. Which was a damn shame because he sees that head shift sideways and is greeted with quite possibly the saddest, droopiest, and biggest blue eyes he's ever seen.
Roman indulges and certainly has indulged in the sins of the flesh, he's in the business of it, but he doesn't think he's ever had his breath taken away like this. God, those eyes, eyes that scream 'please' and then he takes in the rest. That slender, but tall build, nearly button nose and thin, but pouty lips.
"Damn shame…" He mutters to himself, sipping at his drink as the realization hits him that this man is alone, probably inexperienced, and based on his clothes probably spent a lot of money he doesn't have or managed to scrounge up and his miserable. And it just sits wrong in his stomach. Roman is a dominant, can't tell from where he is if this man has a wristband or a collar but doesn't care as he rummages in a small console next to his literal throne to retrieve his own leather wristband.
It's been years since he's worn this thing, but the weight of it is comfortable and familiar as he finishes off his drink, damn determined to turn that pouty bottom lip of that man into an orgasmic grin.