SMITH
In the end, Lincoln asked for a tattoo of a triangle on the webbing between his thumb and his first finger.
“Why?” I asked, unsure of the meaning.
“The trifecta,” he announced, offering no further explanation besides, “It’s okay. Your brother will get it.”
It was the tattoo he was most proud of, and he sent Hunter a thousand pictures of it before he wrapped Riggs into a hug and clapped him hard on the back.
“I could kiss you,” Lincoln announced with a grin. “But I won’t.”
Riggs chuckled, shoving some loose waves back from his face. I loved the way his hair always managed to give up on him by the end of the day.
Their meeting had gone exactly as I knew it would. It was impossible to do anything other than love Lincoln, and Riggs was no exception to the rule. His tattoo took less than five minutes, and Lincoln spent the rest of the day talking about Hunter and Silas and about his fish, Feeny. Every now and then, Riggs would look over and catch my eye, flashing me a content little smile, then turn his attention back to Lincoln. If he was anyone other than who he was, I would worry about how quicklythe two of them bonded, but this was the man I loved and one of my very best friends.
It couldn’t have been more perfect.
The two of them exchanged phone numbers, which was adorable, and by the time Lincoln finally left, the sun had started to go down and the goofy smile hadn’t left Riggs’s face.
“I see why you love him,” he said to me as we climbed the stairs back to the apartment.
“He’s infectious.”
“That sounds like a bad thing.”
I laughed and closed the door to the apartment and twisted the deadbolt. I kicked out of my shoes and leaned my shoulders against the wall, the earlier tease and heat Riggs had left between my legs immediately surging back to life as soon as we were alone.
“Far from it.” I palmed myself over the fly of my jeans. “This feels pretty bad, though.”
Riggs arched a brow at me. “Is there something you need?”
“I need that second orgasm you promised me earlier.”
“Then take off you clothes and go get on the bed.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I scrambled past Riggs and into the bedroom, discarding clothes as I went. I all but flung myself onto the bed, my cock as hard as it had been before Lincoln arrived and twice as wet. Riggs took his time coming after me, sauntering into the bedroom with both hands raised as he re-tied his hair. He’d taken off his boots, but other than that, was still fully dressed. I shivered, taking in the long and lithe lines of his body, the way he prowled toward me like a panther stalking prey.
Instead of coming to the bed, Riggs detoured to his stash of toys, producing two lengths of rope and tossing them casually onto the bed. He sat down on the edge and bound my wrists with simple wraps and sturdy knots, then tied my arms together andfastened me to the bed. He did the same on my ankles, spreading my legs to either corner of the bed. The vulnerability of the position only made my cock harder and more insistent.
“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “I think about how gorgeous you looked when you took my whole hand inside of you.”
My eyes rolled back, and I groaned at the memory of it.
Riggs opened a bottle of lube and slicked his fingers, sliding his hand between the globes of my ass and wasting no time entering me. The slippery penetration of his first finger drew a gasp out of me and a twitch from my dick. Riggs chuckled, in that dangerous way he had when he was ready to buckle down for the long haul.
“When we take our trip, I want…there’s things you want from me that we haven’t done yet.” Riggs spoke carefully as he lazily stroked his fingertip over my prostate.
“I don’t want to fuck,” I blurted, fingers scrabbling at the headboard. “Unless you want.”
“I don’t,” he said simply, “but I meant…the roughness. I know you want to be a little more scared than you have been.”
He added a second finger into me with no warning, and I arched off the bed, the rope pressing into my skin as I fought against the binds. Even though I never wanted to be released from the man or his bondage. “Yes, please.”
“Until then, though,” he whispered, spreading his fingers when they were halfway out of me.
“Until then.”
“Close your eyes, baby.”
