After all, his position as the man’s personal assistant had given already Rhys his heart’s desire. A position higher than those of his many nemeses. A salary that allowed him to upgrade his wardrobe, to move him and Vaughn from their class-C apartment to a luxurious class-A. He had shoes for every day of the month and a jacuzzi tub that dispensed aromatic oils into the water. He could order out at his favorite, expensive restaurant whenever he wanted without worrying if he’d still have enough left over to pay utilities. Life was good.
He wasn’t about to throw that all away rebuking Jack’s advances. Even if they came at the most inopportune moments, when Rhys was deeply focused on work and far from interested in satisfying Jack’s needs.
“You’re tense, babydoll,” Jack growled as he licked the back of Rhys’ neck, breath hot against his skin. “Feels like you need daddy’s touch to help you unwind.”
It was hard not to be tense when he was about an hour behind work thanks to Jack’s tardiness, but there was no use in telling the CEO that, not when he was already panting like an animal. So Rhys left his hands slack against the arms of his chair, not resisting as Jack loomed behind him, one arm slinking down over his front.
Rhys had fucked far worse men than Jack—in both looks and temperament. The man had certainly earned the title “handsome” and though he often fell into fits of violence, if one was useful as Rhys had proved to be he was easier to mollify. Jack wouldn’t harm his tool, his toy, as long as Rhys did exactly what he wanted.
“You’re so damn sexy.” Jack’s hands slid to Rhys’ chest, groping his pecs through the material of his shirt. Rhys tilted his head back, moan parting his lips. Teeth worried against his neck as Jack bit him, drawing reddened bruises out of his skin as he popped open the buttons on Rhys’ shirt.
“I miss when you used to wear ties…” Jack’s hands pulled open the two undone sides of Rhys’ garment, revealing the paper-thin fabric of his undershirt. “I liked having something to pull.”
That’d been Vaughn’s idea. He’d fretted when Rhys came home with a ring of bruises around his neck for the fourth time in two weeks. Rhys had shrugged, willing to shake it off but Vaughn wouldn’t let it go. He’d gradually phased out the ties, hoping Jack wouldn’t notice.
But the CEO didn’t dwell on it now, not when he switched focus back to Rhys’ chest. Jack’s hands cupped the fullness of his assistant’s pecs, the bud of Rhys’ nipples pressing right up against his palms. Rhys moaned as they hardened with the massaging movement of Jack’s hands, obviously poking out through his undershirt when the CEO pulled away to look.
“You’re so damn sensitive, kiddo. Some guys might be ashamed if their boss touched them like this, but you really are a sick little trooper, ain’t you?”
Rhys was. Any reasonable person would have called HR months ago, when this first started—but a reasonable person has no business working under Handsome Jack. Only people like Rhys, who could tolerate and in some cases match Jack’s desires and inflated ego could survive under him for this long. Rhys took pride in that, like he took pride in the less degenerate aspects of his work.
They ended up fucking on Rhys’ desk, this time, Jack too worked up to bother hoisting Rhys over to his own. He kept Rhys on his back, dark blue pieces of clothing fluttering to the side, exposing his bare stomach where Jack had rucked up the filmy undershirt. Moans of praise and honey-sweet thanks danced on Rhys’ tongue, flattering Jack to finish, when he pulsed inside of his assistant and filled him with the sticky weight of come.
Jack left a trail of it when he pulled out, dripping down the edge of Rhys’ desk and onto the floor. Rhys shot him a slightly annoyed pout, knowing Jack would leave him to clean it up, but the CEO only laughed and reached forward, gripping his face.
“Don’t look so pissy, pumpkin. Everyone on Helios would be clamoring to take your place if they knew.”
Rhys understood. Which was why he’d never give up his position, no matter what Jack did to him.
Once the CEO retreated, satisfied and lazy as he sprawled into his chair, Rhys fixed up his desk, wiping down the cum and sweat clinging to the surface with a packet of tissues he kept in the left cabinet. He disposed of the soiled paper in the trash can by his feet and sat back straight in his chair. He pulled his undershirt back down and buttoned his shirt up, tucking the hem into his pants and bucking his belt.
Rhys left his collar undone, fingers brushing up against the swollen, bitten skin all around his throat. He wondered if by the time he left for home it would start to bruise, or they would merely stay red and chafed.
Rhys swallowed, closed his eyes and counted his breaths, throat twinging against the marred flesh.
“You kinda….caught us at an interestin’ time, didn’t ya?” Shit-Breath jerked his thumb towards Rhys. “You see, we caught some HPD scum snoopin’ around. Now, I ‘member the headlines. Didn’t this slut bust your balls over runnin’ Eridium outta that Hyperion club?”
Jack’s eyes drifted back to where Rhys lay on the floor. He looked at him sidelong, squinting slightly. Rhys swallowed roughly. Why hadn’t Jack said anything? Usually the alpha was all about striking up a hearty banter with Rhys, whether the he liked it or not. But Jack only stared at him. Rhys felt his stomach turn, disturbed.
“So we was just about to try him out…have some fun…but it’d be rude not to offer first dibs to a guest, right?” Shit-Breath said to the rest of his gang, who mumbled in agreement. One Eye’s hands lifted from groping Rhys’ chest to merely settle on his shoulders, and Ripped Jeans pushed up in a slight crouch, leaving room for Jack.
But the mob boss stood in place, looking not towards any of the Psychos, but still fixed right at Rhys. As the omega watched, Jack’s eyes roved from his bound legs to his slashed pants, then up to his opened shirt and finally, to Rhys’ bruised, begging face. Thought works behind that piercing gaze, and for a moment Rhys’ heart stilled, frozen by the man he’d gone toe-to-toe with for the better part of his career.
“You know,” Rhys hissed and narrowed his eyes at the mob boss, offered drink still untouched on the bar. “I’m pretty sure I could fill your rap sheet entirely with bad pick-up lines. You’re a real menace.”
“Aww, no need to put up such a fight, sugar.” The corner of Jack’s mouth rose with his suggestive eyebrow as he leaned forward, chin in hand. “It’ll be more fun if you play along…but I’m not worried. I’ll get my hands on you one way or another.”
Rhys’ heartbeat quickened under Jack’s focused gaze, the memory floating to the surface. Every time Jack had openly lusted after him. Joked about how badly he wanted to touch him. Deliberately pushed Rhys’ buttons and relished in his reaction.
And the Psychos were serving him up to Jack on a silver platter.
No. No. He wouldn’t. The Jack he’d tangled with could be cruel, selfish, violent, but he didn’t—there was no way—
Panic welled back up in Rhys’ throat, choking him. He didn’t know if he could breath so long as Jack kept looking at him.
more of the detective rhys kidnapping fic. it’s coming
TheSpaceCoyote 