A/N: so one POV per chapter - I said that, yeah? Turns out it isn't practical, and my amazing organization skills come to the fore again. Anyway, so, instead, it will be one chapter per day and changes in POV will be clearly marked.

As per, please leave your thoughts in the comments :-) 

This is time jumped about four months after the prologue:

* * * * *

Landon

I sit back in my chair, Russo by my knees, stroking me through my pants while I casually entwine my fingers through his long, soft hair. The show on the stage is distracting enough; Frankie has been edging Ellis up there with sensation play for almost an hour, and Ellis' golden skin is glistening under the lights, frustration coloring his whimpers of desire. I check my watch; Gray and Liam should have arrived by now and I allow myself to hope they had a safe flight to London. I'm not a fan of flying, myself, but then I'm not from the same jet-setting lifestyle as Frankie and Gray, with their trust funds, or even the others, with their varying career choices and the successes those have brought. I'm just a pediatric oncologist, though I love my job, despite all the pressure it brings. 

I suspect Frankie charges me a reduced annual membership fee here at the club, never increasing it from the notional amount when he first opened, which I'm thankful for because I doubt I'd be able to afford more, even if I don't know what the full fee is, but the fact that I'm surrounded by millionaire, and even billionaire, Doms gives me some clue.

I've known Frankie and Gray almost the same amount of time, because I met Gray on our first day of college as we were both pre-med, and Frankie about two hours later, due to those two always being joined at the hip back then. We used to get called the three musketeers – I know, witty, right? – because we were fairly inseparable and, I don't know, something about swordplay...

We stayed close through medical school, even though it was intense because we both were fast tracked through our specializations, and Frankie had joined the Marines halfway through college. I wasn't even surprised the day they both sat me down with immensely serious faces to tell me they were into BDSM and were Dominants. A lot of things fell into place when they said that. 

They admitted they'd told me because Frankie had decided to leave the forces and develop his own club and they wanted me to join them too and be a member, so I'd have to learn all this domination stuff. I was a bit hurt that Gray had waited over three years to tell me that he'd started doing all that kink when he went to London for a year during his Bachelor's degree, especially as we'd had threesomes since then with 'boyfriends' of his – who I then realized must have been submissives. But I got over it quickly, and it turned out I could find myself pretty into the whole bondage and domination thing, though I'm definitely not a sadist.

Russo is cute, his straight long hair adding to the overall femininity of his features, and right now his pouting lips are busily working away at my cock, as Frankie comes into the VIP area. He looks worried, and I stop Russo, pulling him up to sit next to me on the couch, as I turn to Frankie, who's sipping amber liquid in a crystal class.

"Ellis okay?" I question, because he seems to have left him alone quickly after their public scene.

"Fast asleep. I barely got through his aftercare. He hasn't been sleeping well. At least the scene relaxed him."

"Unsettled after the move?" Ellis has just moved in with Frankie, and I wonder if the pressure of cohabiting might be getting to him.

"Maybe. But I think it's more than that. He's been having pretty bad nightmares for a few nights, but he won't tell me what they're about."

"Even when you remind him...?" The importance of communication, yeah. Easier said than done.

"Well, he tells me he doesn't remember them. But he's hiding something."

"You know what you need to do," I suggest.

"Yeah, but he's just gone on vacation. I don't want to mess it up."

"You know Ellis' wellbeing is far more important to him than that."

Frankie reluctantly agrees he'll speak to Gray, who's a psychiatrist and, while I doubt he'll actually abandon his trip to deal with Ellis' nightmares, I'm certain he'll be able to get Ellis an appointment with whoever the best in the field of 'nightmares' is – he's like that.

I turn back to Russo when Frankie's gone to check on Ellis. He keeps his eyes down and I lift his chin.

"Look at me, Russo. Did you speak to Master Thomas?" I ask, because he was meant to be speaking to the man about a contract when his three month one with me is up in a couple weeks.

"I did, Sir. He said he'd be more than happy to sign me on for three months."

"Good. But don't forget he'll be a lot stricter than I am."

"I won't, Sir," Russo chuckles, looking up at me through long lashes, his brown eyes gleaming wickedly. "Actually, Sir, I'm quite looking forward to having someone a bit strict controlling me."

"Is that so?" I question, faking over-blown insult from his words. "If that's the case young man, get that tight little ass to the playroom so I can punish you." He just giggles again as he rises, because he knows the most he'll be getting is a few swats with a flogger, which he'll enjoy anyway.

To be honest, I haven't got the imagination for coming up with punishments, not when I work with subs for a maximum of three months at a time. They always do their best to behave – I do have the imagination for the fun stuff and if they don't at least try to perform, seeing me as an easy touch, I simply terminate their contract. I have a tough job with long hours, and I don't have the energy to waste time with someone seeking attention by being a brat. It's worked for me, but I know Frankie thinks it's strange, even if Gray is mainly on my side. 

I'm already debating whether to go straight into another three-month contract or to stick with one-nighters for a while. They're a lot less ambiguous in terms of expectations, and the idea that you have one night to have as much pleasure as possible is tempting, though having someone regularly available with a longer contract also has its benefits.

* * * * *

Nikolai

It's freezing. I wrap my arms around myself tighter, but even the thick padded coat I'm wearing isn't doing enough. Jebat!  Why did I do this in December? I tuck my face down into the woolen scarf, pulling my legs up into my coat, trying to contain my body heat. Dziakuj Bohu  it isn't snowing, though it feels like it's cold enough. It isn't like I'm not used to being cold – winters in Minsk certainly aren't sunshine and roses, but when I left home without telling anyone, to undertake this mission, I was simply too impassioned to have any sense about it.

I have a little cash, but I'm not going to use a card. I have one for emergencies, but it hasn't got to that stage yet, as I know they'll track me far too easily. I consider my options. I know Central Park is one – there are many places to sneak into that are hidden away from biting winds, though I'm certainly not the only person with nowhere to go, and I don't want to draw any attention to myself. Homeless people can get extremely belligerent when they see you entering into their territory, and even after such a short time I can see why that would be the case; when a person has so very little, the idea that someone may come and take it away leaves you breathless.

I haven't eaten yet today. Sleeping on an empty stomach is nearly impossible; several nights I have awoken from the gnawing of my insides even when I have managed to secure a place to hide away, so I've learned to save eating for much later in the day. I will have to go to one of the small shops they call bodegas to get something to eat. You pay more, but I cannot go to a larger store as I may be chased away. It hasn't happened yet, to me, but I've seen it happen to those like me. I had told myself I would bathe – there's always something accessible like public restrooms – but the freezing water and even more freezing temperatures make me know an attempt at cleanliness really isn't worth the effort, although at least I make sure to clean my mouth every day, and I am not so far gone that I smell of urine!

I find a bodega, dirty but crammed with goods for sale. With my bag over my shoulder and securely tucked under my arm, I enter the brightly-lit little store, smiling weakly at the tense dark-skinned man behind the counter, keeping my thin scarf high so my tattoo doesn't add to the judgment. I need something filling, that doesn't require cooking, or a refrigerator. There are many snacks on offer: high sugar and little nutritional value, but this is no use to me. I settle for a large bag of unsalted peanuts – this protein will be good – some bananas, and a small carton of milk to have now.

I pay for my items and tuck the peanuts and bananas into my bag, opening the milk to take a big sip.

"Hey, hermano, buy us something from here?" The dark-skinned boy has an unthreatening grin on his face as he stops me as I walk past a liquor store.

"No," I respond simply, but then he's surrounded by seven other small boys – probably only just into their teens, and suddenly, small boys that barely reach my shoulder don't seem so unthreatening.

"No?!" he mocks, looking to his friends. "This culo says no?" I glance between them, feeling the implied threat as they form an uneven circle around me. I try to keep my face calm – it isn't as though I don't know about threats – draining the milk carton and tossing it precisely into a can for trash, as there's no way I'm wasting nutrients now. Particularly as I might need them shortly even as the swirling dairy creates an uncomfortable feeling in my empty stomach.

The boys start to get closer, the circle tightening. The leader moves slightly forward, playing with something in his pocket. I would suspect a knife, or at least that he wants me to think it's a knife.

"You won't do it? So, you'll give us your money instead," he growls in an unnervingly deep voice, gesturing for me to hand him my bag.

"No," I repeat, calmly. "It is mine, you are not having it."

"Whoa, boys, hear this? We have a Rusky. He's probably got vodka in there." What? Do they teach these children nothing? I debate informing him that the Cold War was completed some years ago, there really isn't an excuse for such baseless stereotypes based on the wrong nationality. How would he feel if I suggested him to be Canadian?

Instead, I bend my knees slightly, imperceptibly. I'm going to have to remove the head of the hydra and make sure it can't grow back. I twist, sending a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of the leader's knee, hear the shrill scream when I connect and, in their moment of shock and confusion, I run, hard, clutching my bag to my side. 

A/N: Translation. As I mentioned I won't be translating anything that you can get the details for by pasting into Google translate. However, two of the languages mentioned within this story don't use the Roman alphabet, and I have recreated the words here using phonetic translation (for ease of reading), which means pasting it into Translate will get you nothing - so I will provide the translation for them. And if you speak the relevant languages, then I apologize for how badly I'm butchering them.

Jebat! = Fuck!

Dziakuj Bohu = Thank God