Light spilled fromPrinzknecht,its frontage barely visible due to the bodies clustered outside. Men filled the pavements and flowed into the street, voices rising and falling in a constant, restless rhythm.
I slowed as we approached, taking in the crowd, the unmistakable energy in the air. Stefan didn’t rush me. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand to my back.
“I’m right here,” he said quietly.
I glanced at him, then nodded. “I’m feeling a little underdressed,” I confessed.
“Not everyone is in leather.” Stefan grinned. “Me, for instance.”
I’d never seen so many men in leather. They stood in small groups, confident and loud. The aroma of cigarettes and cigars pervaded the air. And everywhere I looked, men touched. Kissed. Stroked.
I felt the warmth of Stefan’s hand through my tee.
He pointed to the door. “If you’re willing to brave the crush, we’ll go inside.”
I nodded once more, and he led me through the thickening crowd.
The shift hit me the moment we stepped inside.
Heat.
Sound.
Bodies.
The bar was darker than I expected, the lighting low and uneven, catching on leather, metal, and skin. Music pulsed through the space—not overwhelming, but constant, a steady rhythm beneath everything else.
Everywhere I looked, I saw men in leather vests and harnesses, their boots polished to a high shine. There were bare arms, broad backs, and several flashes of skin where clothing became more suggestion than substance.
I stopped inside the doorway, drinking in the sights, the sounds, the smells…
Stefan stayed close to my side, present without crowding me. “Are you all right?”
I expelled a long breath. “Yes.” After a brief pause, I added, “I think so.”
He smiled. “That’s usually how it starts.”
I managed to laugh, my gaze still moving, trying to take everything in at once. “It’s…” I trailed off, searching for the word.
“Different?” Stefan suggested.
I glanced at him. “Different doesn’t even come close.”
He inclined his head toward the bar. “Drink?”
I nodded. “Yes. That would help.”
The press of bodies eased a little as we moved further inside, Stefan guiding me with a light touch at my back, steady, unobtrusive, but unmistakable.
I wassoaware of it. Of him. Of everything.
I caught fragments of laughter and low voices as we passed. I noticed the brush of movement too close to be accidental. And beneath it all there was a current, a feeling of something… alive.
We reached the bar, and Stefan leaned in to order, his voice low, confident, easily heard over the music. I rested my hands against the edge, grounding myself before taking a moment toreallylook.
I wanted to seeeverything.
A man across the room laughed, his hand resting casually at another man’s waist.