Thread: Step into the ring (kinkysub x ThomasRHellsing)

Thomas Alexander Barbarossa Newgate Irons the first, was exactly what most expected when you talked about a man with too much money. The truth was, the 3rd generation entrepreneur was classified by men as powerful, and women as sexy. He almost looked like a male model, except for the hardness in his eyes and a few scars on his body. This aura of danger and power was rarely possible for the poor. His teeth were perfect, straight and white. His skin was blemish free, although a bit pale. His hair was perfect. The twenty thousand dollar custom made three piece suit sure didn't hurt. A dark almost black red jacket and pants, while the vest and gloves fingerless after the second knuckle on each hand were blood red. His eyes were sapphire blue bright an glowing in a way that implied he loved what he did. His hair was straw blond with silvery tips two bangs hanging over his perfect face. The rest was brushed back. The back was in an elaborate Native American style french braid. Thomas looked like a high class party boy, ready to spend Daddy's cash, but something didn't quite fit with that. The fedora on his head that's main color matched his suit jacket and pants while the band matched his gloves and vest pulled the outfit together. An ace of hearts rested in the band, and a bullet hole was in the center of the heart. A smirk on his face as he entered the area of the Silver City fight club where the challengers prepared. Listening to the roars of the crowd, he focused on drowning them out. When he was alone mentally, the white old money young man, began undoing his vest, and suit's jacket. Tossing them and the fedora over a nearby chair. He then undid the button up shirt, an tossed it onto the chair as well. His chest was thick but still thin. In five minutes the rich boy was gone, and someone anyone with sense could see was DANGEROUS had appeared. Under the ridiculously over priced suit was hard muscle, corded and thick. A swimmer, fencer, or fighter's muscle rather then a steroid abuser, or muscle for muscle's sake. A black wife beater with a kevlar and chainmail vest. He'd worn it under the button up shirt. His arms revealed a lot of information to those who knew where to look. A tattoo symbol for a mercenary outfit, at least fifty stars around it, which meant fifty confirmed kills. Four infinity symbols, meaning he's survive a battle where kill count was uncountable. On his right arm the symbols for the army and green berets. On the inside of his right arm a name, a name a name a frequenter of the Silver City would know, she'd lost to Black Cat almost a year ago and ended up on a ventilator in a coma. Kicking off his Aligator skin boots, he finally removed his pants, revealing the almost skin tight shorts he wore under them. They ran from his knees up, a cup hinted at. It also revealed his legs were wrapped in leather expertly, someone was well trained in kicks. Looking at Black Cat, eyes cold and hard. He moved like a large jungle cat into the barbed wire and concrete floored arena. Using a bit of time before the bell was wrung, he hopped on the tops of his feet, one hand sliding into his pocket. He said his eyes sharp and cold, I'm going to enjoy fucking you in the ass, while you squeal like a pig. when the starter dinged, Thomas hit the remote in his pocket. Instantly the toys hidden in Black Cat's anal plug, shoes, and panties kicked to life at full power. He went to do a sweep kick at her knees, his left leg extended.