It's just as they promised.
Two rough-faced goons throw open the door to the room, dragging in a struggling, shouting young man. Through the two-way glass, Jensen can see that he's tall, well built, a powerful, formidable specimen. He's got several inches on both of the thugs strong-arming him into the room, and he's giving them quite a struggle. He's big and strong and despite the distress on his face, strikingly handsome.
Jensen almost presses his nose to the glass window in anticipation as his beautiful prize takes a swing at the brute trying to handcuff his arms behind his back. The strike is fierce, but misses by inches and Jensen squints behind his wire-rim glasses, taking in the man's glazed eyes. Drugged. This isn't what he wanted.
And Jensen has always been very particular in his requirements.
Before he can even open his mouth to complain, his host Mark smiles slickly and says, “It’s short acting. He won't be under when you're in the room with him. You asked for a big guy and even two against one he's giving my boys a workout."
Mollified, Jensen leans back and focuses in on the show. Mark’s toughs have managed to cuff the man's hands behind his back and Thug Number One is pressing up on the cuffs, putting painful tension on the man's shoulder joints. Thug Number Two is brandishing a knife.
Even drugged, Jensen's tall man goes still when his eyes catch the gleam of the knife. He trembles as the knife drifts down and across his body, cutting away the dull plaid shirt and dark jeans he is wearing. His body twitches once, twice, three times and as the cloth is pulled aside and so much smooth brown skin is revealed, Jensen sees minute blooms of red on the man's otherwise perfect flesh. Tiny nicks and scrapes.
The thug with the knife slides it closed and into his pocket. He steps behind the tall man and threads a meaty hand through his long, shaggy hair, wrenching his head back.
"Did we deliver?" Mark asks idly, toying with the diamond clasp on his silk tie.
"Yes," Jensen whispers hoarsely.
"Then appreciate your prize, your victim," Mark tells him. "This was an expensive fantasy to procure. Your requirements were...extensive. Look at him. Is he not what you wanted?"
Jensen lets his eyes linger over his prize, held immobile and on display. Long limbs packed leanly with powerful muscle. A sizable cock, dangling between those sexy legs. Tight, ridged abdomen, impressive pecs and powerful shoulders.
A man bigger than Jensen. A man who could probably best him easily in a fair fight, pin him down and dominate him. A man now weak and at his mercy.
It's everything Jensen ever wanted.
Jensen lets his eyes drift farther up, licking his lips at the sight of sweat collecting at the hollow of the man's long neck, beading on his high forehead. For all his masculine features he's got a soft, trembling mouth, a pretty, pink flush to his cheeks, and dark, sloe eyes of some undetermined color.
In his own way, he might even be prettier than Jensen.
"We have the equipment you requested. Would you like my men to do the honors, or would you like to direct them?"
"I want to go in," Jensen says breathily. Mark is smirking but Jensen could care less. What others think has never been of interest. It’s taken a while to find just the right place, a house of procurement that could meet Jensen’s exacting demands and provide the experience he’s always craved. Jensen’s a busy man and his tastes are…unique.
What Jensen wants now is to touch and stroke, to command and punish.
"What's his name?" Jensen asks. He wants to call his pretty man by name. He's just an actor, paid to play victim for the evening, but tonight Jensen will pretend this giant is his personal slave.
"His name is Jared."