"Sorry guys, me and sir have some toys to play with."

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"Quality over quantity," Dean smirks at the four men, and he waits while you straighten yourself up a bit, wiping your stomach with a rag that's hanging from the sling, and then pulling up your jeans. You both leave the curtained back room together, Dean's hand possessively on your shoulder as you walk in front of him.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, the bouncer turns and looks at the two of you, and then shakes his head. "Lucky fuck," he says. You feel your face color, as you realize he's talking about Dean getting to take you home.

Dean shoots the bouncer a look heavy with meaning. "Luck's got nothing to do with it."

"If you say so," the bouncer grins. "You and me, no comparison."

Dean frowns.


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