Chapter Text
A young man stepped out of the ride-share, the bass thrumming from inside The Velvet Tether already vibrating through the pavement. He adjusted the collar of his shirt, a subtle blend of excitement and nerves prickling at his skin. It had been a while since he'd been out like this, especially since... well, since he'd decided it was time to rediscover himself. He approached the imposing, dark oak door, a faint glow of red light spilling from its edges.
The door creaked open as he neared, revealing a bouncer built like a brick wall, his face a canvas of disinterest. "First time here?" the bouncer rumbled, his eyes scanning Jaemin. "Know the rules?"
"No, I mean, yes" Mark corrected himself, a slight laugh escaping him. "Yes, I know the rules. I've been before." He pulled out his ID. The bouncer took it, his eyes scanning it before handing it back.
"Mark Lee," he rumbled. "Color?" His gaze fixed on some point over Mark's shoulder.
"Red," Mark answered instantly, a force of habit from years of being off the market, a polite signal of unavailability. The word was out before he'd even thought. He mentally slapped himself. Idiot. That's not why you're here tonight. "Actually, wait, no. Green. Green, please."
The bouncer raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something almost akin to amusement in his otherwise impassive face. He picked up a roll of wristbands. "Alright, green it is. Theme tonight's 'Cats and Dogs,' so masks or even cat ears are encouraged, not mandatory. But if you're wearing green, it means you're open to approaches. Don't be surprised if people crawl up to you on all fours." He snapped a vibrant green wristband onto Mark's wrist with a practiced flick, then gestured inside. "Enjoy your night."
Mark murmured a quick thank you, the cool plastic of the wristband a tangible reminder of his new intentions. He pushed through the heavy door, the music washing over him, and stepped into the dim, pulsating heart of the club. The air was thick with the scent of leather, sweat, and something floral, all underscored by the relentless bass. Bodies swayed and moved in various states of undress and interaction, bathed in shifting hues of red and purple light.
He navigated the crowd, a mix of curious onlookers and seasoned regulars some with masks over their faces, most without, until he reached the long, polished bar. The bartender, a person with an impressive collection of piercings, nodded an acknowledgement.
"What can I get you?" they asked, wiping down the counter with a practiced swipe.
"A Barbie Pool Party, please," Mark replied, a small smirk playing on his lips. It'd been a while since his last visit, he hoped it was still on the menu.
The bartender grinned. "Good choice. One pink, fruity death trap coming right up."
While the drink was being prepared, he let his gaze wander. In one corner, a figure was gracefully tracing a flogger across someone's back, the rhythmic thwack almost imperceptible beneath the music. Closer to the main floor, a person knelt at the feet of another, their head bowed in apparent devotion. Chains glinted under the lights, connecting wrists to posts, or bodies to each other. It was a kaleidoscope of power, vulnerability, and trust, all unfolding openly. Each scene told a story, silent narratives of desire and connection.
His Barbie Pool Party arrived; a vibrant pink concoction topped with a tiny umbrella and a slice of something tropical. He took a sip, the sweet, fruity explosion followed quickly by a potent warmth spreading through his chest. Definitely more than a Long Island, he thought, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.
He took another sip, letting the strong drink and the compelling atmosphere wash over him, feeling a newfound openness he hadn't realized he'd been missing. His gaze drifted lazily over the undulating crowd, occasionally catching the flash of a green wristband—his own open invitation mirrored on others.
"Enjoying the view?" A voice, smooth as aged whiskey and laced with an easy confidence, cut through the thrum of the music.
Mark turned, a practiced, noncommittal smile playing on his lips. Standing beside him was a man whose green wristband glowed faintly in the club's moody lighting. He was tall – taller than him, even – with a broad, athletic build that hinted at hidden strength. His blond hair was styled impeccably around a pair of cute cat ears to go with the theme, and his eyes, a piercing shade of blue that had to be contacts, held a knowing amusement. His smile was disarmingly genuine.
"The view is certainly... diverse," Mark replied, his own smile deepening slightly as he took in the stranger. "Though I'm not sure if I'm looking at it, or if it's looking at me."
The man chuckled, a rich, pleasant sound. "Perhaps a bit of both. I'm Jaemin, by the way." He extended a hand, and Mark noted the firm, confident grip. The newcomer signaled the bartender, a glass of Irish cream placed appeared in front of him in seconds.
"Mark," he responded, a faint flicker of recognition passing between them at the sight of another Korean. "Pleasure to meet you, Jaemin."
"Likewise. I couldn't help but notice," Jaemin's gaze dropped briefly to Mark's wrist, then met his eyes again, "we seem to share a certain... openness to new experiences."
The brunette set his glass down. "New? Yes. Extreme? Not so much." He paused, his gaze drifting around the room, landing pointedly on a particular scene playing out in one of the semi-private booths, then back to Jaemin. "There's a wide rainbow here tonight, some of it outside of my comfort zone."
The blond chuckled, a rich, warm sound. "That's the name of the game, isn't it? Knowing where your lines are, being clear about how far you'll let others push them" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding Mark's. "And I think you and I might share similar no-cross lines." He admits, face turning to contemplate the same scene: A submissive so deep in the zone it was hard to look away, but the dominatrix that put them there made it harder even to look for long. The collar was barbed, the paddle was spiked, the rope looked rough, unprepped – probably off a hardware store, hardly made for skin – and the gag kept their mouth open way too wide, for way too long. It was a level of impact play that made even Jaemin squirm and avert his eyes, while the brunette looked like he would walk there and stop it if he had any less self-control.
"Exploration is key," Jaemin agreed, a faint smile touching his lips as he looked back to the shorter man. "But we can agree on no blood."
"And no pee," Mark added, a slight crinkle appearing at the corner of his eye.
"And by god, please no poo," Jaemin finished, a playful glint in his gaze. He raised his drink, toasting the brunette's pink cocktail as they laughed together.
"I didn't know there would be a theme tonight" Mark asks, his gaze drifting over a group near the dance floor wearing elaborate cat masks.
Jaemin took a slow sip of his Irish cream. "I didn't, I just bought these in their shop" he says, signaling to his fluffy caramel cat ears "I don't follow them on Facebook, or however it is the new generation communicates." He said, a playful smirk touching his lips.
Mark snorted, a laugh rumbling in his chest. "I'm willing to bet we're the same age, so please don't make us sound so old," he countered, nudging Jaemin lightly with his elbow.
Jaemin's smile widened. "Twenty-seven?" he guessed, a glint in his eye.
"Twenty-eight. Wow, so you're younger than me," Mark said, feigning shock as he raised an eyebrow. "Now you really aren't allowed to make any old man jokes." He grinned, a comfortable silence settling between them as they both turned back to observe the vibrant chaos.
"Had I known, I would have brought something better than this cheap thing," Jaemin commented, glancing at a woman with a fluffy tail swishing behind her as she walked past.
"Oh? A pet play connoisseur?" Mark teased, taking another sip of his Barbie monstrosity.
Jaemin chuckled, a warm sound that resonated even over the club's bass. "I dabble. But mostly I just like real cats. How about you?"
Mark considered it for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "More of a dog person. Cuddly, dependent, obedient; that's more my style," he admitted, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.
A comfortable silence settled between them, charged with unspoken questions and shared understanding. The music throbbed softly in the background, and the air between them seemed to crackle with an anticipation that had nothing to do with the club, and everything to do with the two men finally meeting.
"So, tell me," Mark agreed, raising his glass in a subtle toast. "Are you a frequent patron of Velvet, or just passing through?"
"I dip in and out," Jaemin mused, ordering a drink from the bartender with a casual flick of his wrist. "I come to look for a partner, not a night. You?"
"A man unafraid of commitment I see. Well, likewise," Mark said, a spark of interest igniting within him. "Green just isn't my color" he jokes.
Jaemin's smile widened. "Well, black definitely is" he compliments, making an obvious show of looking the other up and down in appreciation of the designer black slacks and the silky dress shirt left unbuttoned to the third hole. "I bet you'd look good in red too... and some purple" he adds, something odd coloring his tone as he says so, the end of it sounding almost like a question, a prod of preference... of boundaries.
Mark took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Jaemin's. This was the dance. The subtle prodding, the careful gauging. "And I think blue would look," he said, choosing his words carefully while bringing his empty hand to the blonde's neck, a palm softly set on his jaw, "Ravishing against your skin."
Jaemin's eyes widened slightly. "Blue as in... protection collar?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Yes?" Mark almost asked, unsure if he was too forward. It really had been a while since he last played this game. "Too soon?"
"Too dommy," Jaemin countered, pushing Mark's hand away slowly and sighing in exasperation.
"Huh?" Mark asked, confused. Jaemin raised his free hand, showing off the big silver rings adorning three of his fingers—what people in the scene would consider a power-evoking accessory. Power...
"Wait!" Mark said, setting his glass down in fear of spilling it as he stood quickly from the stool. "You mean, you're..."
"What part of everything I just said made you think I was a sub!?" Jaemin exclaimed, a bewildered look on his face.
"I had my money on switch! What Dom wears cat ears!?" Mark shot back, throwing his hands up.
"They're on theme and I like cats! Why didn't you react when I said you'd look good with bruises?" Jaemin demanded.
"Because I let my subs bite back, I thought that's what you were testing for!" Mark retorted, a grin starting to spread across his face despite his confusion.
They both burst into hysterical laughter, the absurdity of their misunderstanding washing over them amidst the pulsating music of the club.
Understanding began to dawn on Mark. The confident stance, the assured tone, the almost identical answers to his own veiled questions. "I'm out of practice," Mark agreed, a wry twist to his lips. "But you also didn't react when I mentioned liking obedient dogs, so we share the blame here."
Jaemin's smile, once so open, now held a touch of rueful amusement. "It would certainly seem so." He paused, a shared, dawning conclusion hanging unspoken between them in the pulsating club. "So, I guess we... walk away embarrassed and never speak of this again."
"Indeed," Mark echoed, lowering his glass. "we've all tried it at least once and it's never fun. Two Doms can't play at making each other fold, can they?"
Jaemin began to nod, looking around the club as if searching for an escape, but then his eyes landed on a spot near the empty dance pole. A small group of people were gathered there, simply talking amongst themselves. Jaemin's gaze locked onto someone in the group, and he stared long and hard. Mark didn't follow his gaze, assuming Jaemin had found his next target and preferring not to poach on another Dom's interest. But instead of walking away like he'd said they would, the blond looked back at Mark, a smirk that spelled trouble spreading across his face.
The bass throbbed, a relentless pulse against Jaemin's chest as he leaned closer to Mark. He lifted his glass, a subtle tilt of the milky liquid indicating a point across the room. "See that pretty little thing over there, chatting by the pole?"
Mark's gaze flickered subtly over his shoulder, a dismissive half-turn that still took in the scene. There were, indeed, a number of people gathered near the polished chrome pole, but Jaemin knew exactly who he meant. Young, short, with skin that seemed to glow even under the unflattering purple lights of the club. Their hair, a shade of brown that verged on black in the dimness, framed a face that was undeniably attractive. And their figure—just Mark's type. Not too thin, enough curve and muscle to promise resilience, yet petite enough to be easily handled. All of it encased in leather pants so form-fitting they had to be uncomfortable, and a top cropped so short Jaemin swore he could glimpse the bottom edge of star-shaped nipple covers.
"He's been staring for a while now," Jaemin continued, his smirk widening into something wicked. "Two Doms can't play at making each other fold. But I bet we could fold him."
A slow, calculating smile spread across Mark's lips. "Oh? Do tell."
Jaemin took a sip of his drink, letting the anticipation hang in the air. "Are you a casual player, or do you want a more stable partner?"
"I do remember saying the latter..." Mark's eyes, dark and knowing, met his. "Another thing we had in common, sadly."
"You want a contract and so do I," Jaemin pressed, his voice dropping slightly. "Want to see who gets it first?"
Mark's eyebrow arched, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. "Out of him?"
"Are you saying he's not your type?" Jaemin challenged, a playful glint in his eye. "If you're going to lie, at least try harder."
A low laugh rumbled in Mark's throat. "Oh, trust me, he is." His smile became knowing, a touch of triumph in it. "But you're either in need of glasses or a BDSM class, if you're not seeing the collar." He gestured subtly towards the stranger and the rigid silver circling their neck with a ring at the front, ready to be leashed. "Why do you think I'm even talking to you and not him? That one's taken."
"Ouch," Jaemin said, a theatrical hand going to his chest as if wounded by the comment. But the knowing smile only grew wider. "Yes, I do see the collar – the training collar, by the way." He emphasized the distinction; not of ownership, not of protection, but a sign of a journey. "It is you who isn't seeing the wristband." He lifted his own arm, revealing an inviting neon green band that perfectly matched the one on the beautiful stranger's wrist.
Mark's eyes narrowed, a new interest sparking in them. "Already in training with a Dom, but also looking for another?"
"A submissive open to playing with more than one partner," Jaemin clarified, his grin a dare. "Isn't that exactly what our little experiment calls for?"
"So, we see who gets exclusivity first?" Mark mused, the challenge clearly appealing. "Not only between us, we're also competing against some mystery Dom he already has."
"I do like a good challenge..." Jaemin's gaze held his, a silent question. "You?"
"Another thing we have in common," Mark replied, a predatory glint in his eyes.