Chapter 26
RIGGS
After dinner—which went surprisingly well, considering the unanticipated interruption of Smith’s brother—I brought him back to my place.
He climbed off the bike and tucked the borrowed helmet under his arm like he’d been doing it his entire life and silently followed me into the shop and up the stairs.
Once back in the safety of my apartment, I took the helmet and set it aside.
I helped Smith out of his jacket, his shoes, his socks.
I appreciated the look of his bare feet against my floor, and then I discarded my jacket and led him to the bedroom.
The heavy and anticipatory pants of Smith’s breath was the only sound until I pulled off his shirt and tugged down his zipper.
He was already hard, gasping when I reached behind the waistband of his underwear and stroked his cock.
His entire body swayed into mine and when I released him, he whimpered.
“What do you want tonight?” I asked, smearing my thumb through his already leaking slit.
Smith blinked up at me like I’d asked him if he knew during what period the Diplodocus lived. I nodded my head at him, pumping my fist back down his cock to the root and squeezing hard around his base.
“Tell me what you want, baby.”
“I want you,” he rasped.
“Give me details.” I brushed my lips along the shell of his ear. “I want to make you feel good.”
Smith exhaled a shuddering breath against my chest, his cheeks darkening at the ask. “You said once my tattoo was healed, you’d…”
“I’d tie you up better,” I finished for him. “Did you want me to tie you up?”
“Tie me down,” he murmured.
“And you want me to hurt you until you ask me to stop,” I guessed, giving him another tight stroke. “But you don’t actually want me to stop.”
Smith trembled in my arms like a leaf.
“Give me some limits. Tell me how far is too far,” I whispered.
He was so hot and hard in my hand, so desperate.
He was quiet for a minute, then he finally said, “Don’t break the skin.”
“That leaves a lot on the table.” I pushed his pants and his underwear down, and toppled him backward onto the bed.
He landed with a rough exhale of breath, legs spread and cock jutting up toward the ceiling.
I reached behind me and grabbed my shirt, rucking it up and over my head.
I tossed it on the floor, pressed one knee into the bed and leaned toward him. “Would you let me spit on you? In you?”
Smith’s eyes widened and a pulse of precum leaked from his cock, clear and shining in the dim light cast from the glow of Ev’s lamp on the nightstand.
“Duly noted,” I said with a chuckle. “And how does it stop?”
“Red.”
“Good boy.”
Smith shivered, his eyes rolling back.
He was…he was unlike anyone I’d ever met before him and certainly unlike anyone I’d ever meet again.
It was impossible to compare him to Ev, but I’d also never wanted to.
It pained me to know Smith had grown up in the shadow of three older brothers because, when I looked at him, he was so uniquely himself.
He was certainly nothing like Finn, but he’d always told me Marshall was the one he took after the most. The oldest, the most concerned, the worrier.
I’d meet him eventually, and I was equal parts exhilarated and cautious about it.
If the brother he idolized most in the world didn’t approve of me, would he walk away?
Or worse, if Marshall didn’t approve of me would Smith stay just to spite him?
Those were all problems for another version of myself in another time because this version of me had a naked Smith Covington on my bed, splayed out and hard, and wanting me.
I left him there, turning away to dig out leather cuffs and clothespins and a spreader bar. There were things in my bag I hadn’t used in years, things I’d never used but had foolishly bought anyway with the hope that someday there might come a time…that there might come a man. And now… here he was.
I returned to the bed and sat down beside Smith’s hip, tracing my fingers along his skin until I reached his hand.
“I wish I could outline each of your tattoos with my tongue,” he murmured when I tightened the first cuff around his wrist. “Would you like that? Would you let me?”
It was a loaded question asked in the heat of the moment, and my first instinct would definitely kill the mood.
Smith had been more than accommodating and understanding about my asexuality, but I feared reminding him of it now would do more harm than good.
The question hadn’t offended me any, and in truth, if he would like it, I would also like it.
It might not make me hard and it might not make me feel the same kind of sexual pleasure he would if I were to tie him down and draw constellations all over his body with my mouth, but that didn’t mean I hated the idea.
Before I could tell him as much, he blurted a follow-up, “Never mind. That was a dumb question.”
I held out my hand for his other wrist and he dropped it into my waiting palm. I made sure to trace my finger around the bone before settling the cuff into place and tightening the straps, loving the way leather felt on his skin.
“Why was it dumb?”
“Because you don’t like sex the way I do,” he answered, following it up with a self-deprecating laugh. “And I really like it a lot. Especially with you.”
I smiled at that, folding my body over his so I could latch his cuffs to the bolts on my headboard. I’d never brought anyone home before him, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t prepared myself for the possibility of a partner I trusted enough to do it.
“I enjoy it when you take your pleasure from my body,” I told him, dragging my fingers down the exposed muscles of his arms until I reached his armpit.
Gooseflesh trailed after me, and I pinched him gently at the place his arm folded into his chest. Smith’s chin trembled, and I tightened my fingers until he screwed his eyes closed in pain.
“If it would please you to color me in with your tongue, then consider me a canvas. I wouldn’t even be mad if when you finished you dry-humped my leg while you sucked on my cock. ”
“Would you come?” he asked, lashes fluttering when I released the thin strip of skin I’d been holding. There were marks from my fingernails there, and I rubbed my thumb over one before sliding my hand to the center of his chest.
“I might. But I also might stay soft in your mouth, heavy and limp on your tongue.”
Smith let out a shaky breath, shifting his stare from the ceiling to my face. His pupils were shot, massive black discs in the center of his irises making sure I knew just how much he didn’t hate the idea of taking my flaccid dick into his mouth.
“You’re…” I let myself trail off, not even aware of the words that could explain how perfect I found Smith Covington.
Instead of talking more, I moved down the bed and looped leather cuffs around his ankles and folded his body in half. I had two short bars that I clipped between his wrists and his ankles, keeping his knees in his armpits and his asshole on display.
“Is this uncomfortable?” I asked.
He huffed out a laugh and rolled his head from side to side on the pillow. “Not as much as it should be, I don’t think.”
“Tell me if anything goes numb.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered quickly, teeth snapping when he slammed his mouth closed. “Sorry.”
“You’re okay, baby.” I tugged on his lower lip until he once again relaxed his jaw. “I like the sound of it when you say it.”
He swallowed, and I grasped his nipple, tugging hard as I worked my way back down his body. I had other things at the foot of the bed I planned to use, and Smith was in for a very long night. I poured some lube onto my fingers and thrust one into him without any warning.
“Riggs,” he gasped my name, immediately fighting at the restraint. “I just had dinner, I haven’t—”
“I don’t care,” I told him, adding a second finger. “Relax, baby. You’re going to shatter my knuckles.”
He grunted, unhappiness palpable, but he didn’t use his safe word, so I didn’t stop.
I stretched him open and when I was satisfied he’d had enough, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands.
When I returned, the sight of Smith on my bed was one I’d remember forever.
His flushed cheeks, straining cock, and his shiny and slick asshole.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” he promised. “Horny.”
I laughed, opening the lube for a second time and drizzling it over the black inflatable plug I planned to use on him.
The toy was only about four inches long and not very thick, but it inflated to a girth I could barely wrap my fist around.
It would do nicely for what I had planned, so I slowly teased the toy into Smith’s slippery and prepped asshole.
The cuffs around his wrists and ankles jostled as he fought against the intrusion, but with the way he was bound up, there was nowhere really for him to go.
He was exactly where I wanted him.
I slid down the bed and dug my fingers into the backs of his thighs, then I spread him out and licked a hot circle around his stretched rim.
The taste of lube and rubber and sweat sent a shiver down my spine, and I ate his ass as well as I could with the plug keeping him stuffed.
Spit ran down the crack of his ass and soaked my comforter, but I could not care less.
The only thing that mattered was taking—and keeping—Smith out of his mind for the rest of the night.
He barely noticed when I attached the first clothespin to him.
I eased it onto the crease of skin where his leg met his groin.
It wasn’t until I flicked it did he come around to the pressure, and by then I had already added a second.
Smith had responded so well the first night to the pinching and the pressure points, but while there was plenty I could do to him with only my hands, it was still…
only my hands. I made quick work of two more clips in the same spot on the other side of his body, then I pumped the plug once and waited.
Smith breathed deep through his mouth, the sound wet and soft.
I flicked two of the pins against each other, and his breath drawled into a whimper.
It was the loud rattle of his restraints when I teased another clothespin against his perineum, a garbled cry when I attached it to the loose skin of his sac instead.
I tugged on it, watching the way his balls shifted, how the skin there tightened.
His body pulled on the clothespin for me, and I smiled down at the sight.
Smith’s dick twitched, and I gave a few more pumps to the plug inside of him.
“Riggs,” he gasped my name, jerking his wrists away from the headboard and finding nowhere to go.
“I’m here,” I promised, adding clips down the tanned stretch of his inner thigh.
For good measure, I pinned each of his nipples, then I bent down and dusted a kiss over his lips.
He opened quickly, desperate to chase after me, but I had no interest in the taste of his tongue.
I pinched his cheeks between my thumb and fingers, then I spit into his mouth I pinned his lips together and pulled back to study his face.
I think any other man would have found it humiliating but not Smith.
Not my perfect little pain slut, Smith, who knew so much and so little about himself.
“If you want me to stop, snap your fingers,” I told him. “Show me you can do it.”
Smith’s nostrils flared and he snapped his fingers, then holding my stare, he swallowed my spit.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, he corded muscles of his throat tense.
I was still folded over his body, my jeans abrading his thighs and nudging the clothespins I’d already put onto his skin.
He winced, and I smiled, reaching down and pumping the plug, inflating it thicker inside of him.
I slid back down the front of him, taking his whole erection into my mouth and sucking him until he was ready to come.