“You’re worth more than a thousand of those stupid fuckers.” Riggs stated and cupped his cheek in the palm of his hand. "I hate your friends, Thomas." That brought a sad smile to the sweetest face Riggs could ever remember laying eyes upon. The blonde hair, coupled with soft blue-gray eyes and full red lips, was doing things to Riggs that surprised him. He wanted to kill the people at that table, and he wanted to ravish the beautiful man standing before him.
"They're not my friends." He responded forcefully, and Riggs appreciated the strength shown in that statement. "I work with them at the museum, and I thought this was supposed to be a simple night out with co-workers, at least that was how it was sold to me. I think it was planned as an exercise in humiliation, and they wanted me front and center."
Riggs handed him a bottle of water, and Thomas downed about half of it. "Thanks." He said, and Riggs nodded. "Why did you help me?" He looked up at Riggs.
Riggs thought about his answer for just a few seconds and then settled on the truth. "I find you attractive, and I wanted you away from those assholes. They were dimming your light, sweetheart." Riggs touched the bowtie and smiled. Thomas glanced around the room nervously, but there was something else in the expression, and it looked like wonder.
"I like it back here with you," Thomas spoke slowly, and his eyes landed on Riggs.
"I like it too." Riggs moved closer, dropped his head to gently nuzzle Thomas' neck, and placed a tantalizing kiss on his earlobe.
"What are we doing, Riggs?" His voice quivered slightly, but not with fear this time.
"Whatever you want, Thomas."
“I shouldn’t be here; I shouldn’t be doing this.” He was trying to convince himself, but it sounded very weak.
“Yes, you should, Thomas. I need you here, and you need to be here." Riggs continued to trail kisses along his jaw and down his throat as his hands played along Thomas’ arms and shoulders.
“This is good.”
“This is very good.” Riggs agreed and took him into his arms and kissed him, ravaging those plump red lips and glorying in the taste and touch of his beloved. It was special beyond expectations, and he was there for it all. Thomas was not the wallflower he appeared to be. He returned the kiss, tentative at first, but he was catching up fast.
Riggs moved him gradually, a step at a time, backward until Thomas's back hit the wall, and Riggs held him there with his body. The feeling of Thomas pressing against him was amazing, setting his heart on a slow burn. He devoured him with a gentle persuasion, exploring and experiencing everything that was Thomas, his Thomas.
"Yeah, that's nice." Thomas rasped, struggling to catch his breath as his eyes took in Riggs. His expression of surprise and delight was everything.
"If you'd like to leave, I won't stop you." Riggs made it clear that staying was his decision; there was no force or pressure. Thomas considered his words for a moment and then responded plainly with no room for confusion.
“I don’t want to leave. Whatever you’re offering, I want it.” Riggs couldn’t hold back the satisfied smile that graced his lips as he once again pressed Thomas against the wall with his body.
Thomas let himself go and asked for what he wanted, no pretending or hiding, just honesty. Riggs had surprised him from the beginning, and he wasn't going to turn him down. He'd watched him since their first interaction and noticed that he was very popular. There was no reason for him to have saved him twice, but he did. Whatever he wanted now, Thomas was pleased to give. There was something between them, a need, a yearning, and Thomas wanted it satisfied.
Riggs was all muscle, and he was so handsome that everything about him was perfection. It was obvious why he got so much attention. It wasn’t quite so obvious why he gave his attention to Thomas, but he wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth. His jet black hair hung suggestively in his eyes, and his dark eyes pinned him to the wall. He was so powerful, fierce, and wild. This perfect specimen of masculinity wanted him, and he was not going to overthink it. Just let go and enjoy the moment.
Dr. Ferris had deliberately humiliated him, and Jeremy had just sat there, saying nothing. The others were probably afraid of their own positions, but Jeremy had a little clout and could have intervened, but he didn't. The evening was horribleuntil Riggs spoke softly in his ear and pulled him out of the embarrassment and into his arms.
This was an unbelievable turnaround for the evening, and he decided he was going to enjoy it. The looks of those at the table had been priceless when Riggs had spoken so intimately and taken him away from the table. Dr. Ferris had been irritated by the attention Thomas had received and had made him pay with insults and put-downs, but in the end, that didn't change anything. Riggs still chose him.
Riggs never noticed Ferris or anyone else at that fucking table. He was there for Thomas, and he wasn't subtle about it. Riggs was kissing him, and the sensations surging through him were exhilarating and sent shivers over the surface of his flesh. Riggs was very good at eliciting reactions. He knew where to touch and how to inspire, and Thomas was eating it up. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he was not going to fuck it up.
CHAPTER THREE
Riggs dimmed the overhead light and ran his hand down the front of Thomas' starched white shirt. The texture was stiff and crisp, and Riggs couldn't wait to feel the heated flesh beneath. The bowtie was not a clip-on; he had tied it, and that just seemed to make him even more adorable.
Riggs pulled on it, and it untied, dropping down against his chest. Slowly, he took it and removed it from around his neck and laid it on the table to his right. Then he unbuttoned the top two buttons of that pristine white shirt and nuzzled his face against the warm, damp flesh. His sweat smelled of lilacs, as did his breath, and the scent was stirring in Riggs' mind, giving him lustful and exciting ideas.
"You taste so good, Thomas." He spoke, fanning his breath against Thomas' throat. The shiver was immediate and was followed by a salacious moan. Riggs chuckled softly and then took his lips in another ravenous embrace, plumbing the depths of pleasure that was both sharp and soothing.
Thomas was reaching for him, touching him, tentative but persistent. His hands were lovely, so soft and peaceful. His touch made everything definite and acute. It was real. This wasreal. They were building a connection that would hold them close and would carry them forever.
Riggs skimmed his hand down the front of Thomas's shirt, and his fingers slipped underneath the waistband of his pants. With a deft flick of his fingers, the pants were open, and he'd pushed the shirt aside. Thomas was not fighting him and actively engaged, thrusting his hips toward him, allowing his hand to slip ever lower.
Thomas was hard and pulsing in his hand. The moment he held him was the moment he lost all restraint. Thomas moaned, and his breathing became rapid, and Riggs stroked him, pushing the pants and briefs out of his way, baring that throbbing beauty to his touch and his hungry gaze.
Riggs held his gaze for several seconds, hard and yet still tender. There was a question in their depths, and Thomas nodded almost imperceptibly, but it was clear. Riggs had his answer, and he dropped to one knee. Thomas's hands moved to his shoulders, and his gaze bounced from the ceiling to the wall and down to Riggs, where he knelt before him.
He looked up at Thomas, slipped out his tongue to slowly circle the head, and saw the way Thomas parted his lips and panted, his chest rising and falling, and his eyes closed on the sensations that swamped him. His own arousal flared at the sensual vision before him, but he kept his focus on his beloved, giving him an experience he would not forget.
