He sucks his thumb like he's sucking a cock.
In and out, tongue lapping, cheeks hollowed. It's arousing and so fucking vulgar, obscene even, the way his mouth wraps around it. On a couple of passes he's sucked so hard that the whole of the thumb has disappeared inside, those full pink lips pressing against the fold of skin where it meets his hand. The knuckle in the middle catches against his teeth when he drags it back out, just a little flash of white that sparks images of them scraping over the head of a cock.
Edward would think it's overkill if the guy wasn't keeping his eyes down and trained on the bar he sits at, only flickering a glance at men who inevitably pass him by. With each one who ignores him, his shoulders slump a little more, the thumb being sucked deeper and deeper into his mouth. He rests on elbow on the bar, not looking at anyone, not wanting to see anyone not looking at him.
But Edward's looking. Has been for a while.
He's different, this man at the bar. No preening or trying to show himself off, just sits silently like his stool is an island in the middle of the sea, accepting rejection as if he'd been waiting for it. His outfit isn't anything special, either - a dark gray v-neck and black jeans. There's a hint of inked darkness just under the sleeve straining around his bicep, a glimpse of darkness of another kind written all over his face. He's all brawny and brooding, bearded jaw and broad shoulders. Every time he moves, the dim lights seem to caress his big body. There's some kind of poetry in the way his muscles flow and ebb like water flowing downstream with every slight shift on his stool.
It's obvious why the guy's alone. Tonight's a special event at the club, meant to bring together Daddies and littles. Daddies want someone small, someone they feel they can protect and care for. This man is tall and built, but his manner makes it obvious he's not interested in being someone's Daddy. He sucks his thumb like he has to, like it's his only comfort in the whole world. So men see him, see his beautiful face and that body, and they're interested until they realize he's not looking to be the one in charge.
He's looking to be taken charge of.
That suits Edward just fine. He's maybe an inch or two taller than this guy, though he's nowhere near as built. But he isn't intimidated by the other man's bulk, because the look on his face is all sad and lost, hoping desperately for someone to want him.
And Edward does.
So he tips his drink back and finishes it, smacking the glass on the table once he's done. He deliberately avoids the gaze of a few young boys who've been eyeing him all night, not interested in anything but the shy, lonely man sucking his thumb.
He shoulders through the crowd and makes his way to the bar.