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“Vegas…?” Pete whispered, the sweat covering his skin making him shiver with heat and cold. With anticipation. His nerves sang as the ghost of Vegas’s touch continued to cascade through his body. His back and ass felt raw from where Vegas had repeatedly struck him with vicious slaps, then soothed the sting with gentle kisses and reverent fingertips. His asshole felt used, gaping. Well loved. He just wanted Vegas to touch him again. To hurt him again. To soothe him again. To relieve the pressure between his legs. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to the cock ring that now prevented him from coming. He ached for Vegas to touch his dick, to free it and let him orgasm. He was nearly feral with it, with the desire for Vegas’s cock inside him again, pounding him and wringing every drop of pleasure from him.
He whined at the absence of his lover’s touch. He wanted to rip the blindfold off his face (even though earlier he’d begged Vegas to put it on him), but his hands were cuffed to the headboard above his head. He sensed that Vegas was still there, could feel his gaze like a laser, but he needed to see the other man. He needed to feel Vegas’s touch, his warmth. His senses were all cascading through him in a messy jumble. “Vegas?” he called. “Vegas, please touch me. Vegas, please.”
The darkness around his eyes began to seep inside him. His pleas reminded him of the pool, his ears ringing so hard from all the gunshots that he’d barely been able to hear his own screams. Vegas’s life seeping out around his knees, burning his cheek when he pressed it to the other man’s chest. Feeling his breath slowing…
He gasped in surprise when he felt Vegas’s thumb brush across his cheekbone, catching the tears that trickled from under the blindfold with his thumb.
“Breathe,” Vegas’s voice gently commanded. It was only then that Pete realized he’d started to hyperventilate. His whole body leaned towards Vegas’s touch like a flower yearning for the sun, so much so that he heard the restraints creak against the headboard.
Vegas didn’t say anything else, just continued to stroke Pete’s cheek. Pete knew that he was giving him an option to use his safe word. He shook his head. “I’m okay,” he murmured into Vegas’s palm. The desire that flew through Pete’s body at even the smallest caress of Vegas’s beautiful hands chased away any dark memories. “Just… don’t stop fucking touching me.” Pete added iron to his voice, not only because he never wanted Vegas to stop touching him, but to show that he really was okay, that his lover’s touch had grounded him. Had brought him home.
Vegas chuckled in his ear, the heat from his body nearly setting Pete on fire. His cock ached like a bruise. “Pushy, pushy,” Vegas teased, slowly licking along the shell of Pete’s ear before tugging on Pete’s earring with his teeth, telling Pete without words that he understood.
Pete’s hips arched up as much as they could with his legs splayed wide open by a spreader bar, wanting Vegas inside him again. He felt so empty and wanted to be full of the other man, the sensory deprivation making the emptiness feel endless. Vegas’s fingers corded through his hair, giving a not-so-gentle tug. Pete then felt Vegas’s hands stroke down the sides of his face, and everything went muted, except for the blood rushing in his ears. Vegas had slipped soft earplugs in his ears, further cutting off his senses. He whimpered and arched his body when the heat of Vegas’s body receded, trying to follow it. But Vegas kept his hands gently and slowly running down Pete’s inner thighs, closer and closer to his aching cock and eager hole, but never quite touching.
Pete whined in frustration. “Vegas, please! Ah, fuck !” he cursed in ecstasy when Vegas removed his hands from Pete’s inner thighs, but replaced the touch with a bite instead. He then sucked the flesh between his teeth, causing Pete to gasp. He felt like he was under water, his own voice muted and rumbling around in his head. “Vegas,” he groaned again when the other man did the same thing to his other thigh. Pete’s legs shook with desire. He wanted to come so fucking bad. “Please fuck me, please ,” he begged, his tendons straining as he tried to move his body any way he could to get some sort of relief. “Please take the ring off. Please fuck me. Please fuck me, Vegas.”
Pete felt Vegas grin against his thigh as his tongue lapped up the sweat coating Pete’s skin. He said something that Pete didn’t really hear because of the damn ear plugs. That coupled with the blindfold made every touch all the more powerful. Each touch seared him. Branded him. Vegas’s name was written on every nerve like a note, and they all sang for him and him alone.
When Pete felt hardness press against his hole, his jaw opened wide. He thought that he screamed, but it felt like it got caught somewhere in his chest as he was stretched wider. Vegas was big to be sure, but what entered him was huge, and didn’t have the familiar feel of his lover’s erection. When Vegas’s tongue slowly licked up the underside of Pete’s dripping cock, he realized that it was one of the obscenely large dildos from their collection. He’d remembered laughing in almost disbelief at the ridiculousness of the black dildo’s size when the box had arrived last week, but now it didn’t feel ridiculous at all. It felt like heaven. He whimpered as his muscles reformed around the new penetration, his blood carbonated in his veins.
Pete knew he was saying things, but he couldn’t hear what they were, and the words didn’t register in his brain as Vegas started fucking him with the dildo while swallowing down his cock at the same time. If it weren’t for the damn fucking cock ring, he would have come right then and there. He was glad that his legs were held open by the spreader bar, because without it he wouldn’t have been able to hold them up or open.
Pete’s throat felt ravaged from moaning, and he could have sworn he felt the thrusts of the dildo all the way up to his lungs, ripping the air from them when Vegas pulled the toy out of him and pushed it back in, setting a sublime, furious pace with it, while his mouth and tongue worked slow magic on Pete’s erection, completely at odds with the pace of the brutal fucking he was giving Pete’s asshole.
Pete sobbed in relief when he felt Vegas release the cock ring. His legs were shaking uncontrollably now. Even though he may as well have been in another dimension by this point, Pete knew he was now moaning Vegas’s name, because whenever he was nearing orgasm, that was always the only word he could ever say. Vegas. Vegas. Vegas. Pete’s entire body only existed for Vegas in those moments. His lungs breathed for Vegas. His skin burned for Vegas. His blood sang for Vegas. His heart didn’t just beat for Vegas - his heart was Vegas.
The orgasm that tore through his entire being also belonged to Vegas. Vegas swallowed the come that rightfully belonged to him, lovingly licking the head of Pete’s cock to milk every drop.
Pete panted, tears leaking from his eyes again. This time from the joy, the release, the love. He hadn’t even realized that Vegas moved until he felt the hot, slick tip of Vegas’s dick rub against his lower lip. He greedily opened his mouth to swallow Vegas down completely. He moaned in blown-out pleasure as the head hit the back of his throat in just the way that he loved. He’d never hated an inanimate object so much as he hated those ear plugs in that moment, because they were preventing him from fully hearing Vegas’s moans as he fucked Pete’s face.
Sound suddenly crashed down on Pete as Vegas removed the ear plugs. It was as if Vegas had read his mind. Again. Pete used his lips and tongue and throat to their full capacities, Vegas’s moans and murmurs of his name seeming like fireworks after the deprivation. Pete knew that he would store that sensation for future memories. He hoped that Vegas felt how much Pete loved him with each suck and flick and swirl of his tongue. Come for me Vegas, Pete said with each thrust of Vegas’s hips, each arch of Pete’s neck. I love you. I love you so fucking much. Keep moaning my name like that, darling.
Vegas pulled himself out of Pete’s mouth with a growl. “ Pete ,” he moaned, voice strangled and strained and quavering as he came on Pete’s face and chest. Pete smiled as a whimper wrenched out of him, the hot splatter across his skin going right into his marrow. He instantly licked at what he could get to around his mouth, wanting to swallow the taste of his lover immediately.
“I’m going to take the blindfold off now. Close your eyes,” Vegas murmured. His voice sounded small and tired and blissful. If Pete could have come again just from that tone of voice, he would have. His dick twitched, giving an effort anyway.
Pete turned his face towards the sun coming through the sheer curtains, the rosiness appearing even through his closed eyelids. He then turned his head towards the sound of Vegas’s panting, and where he felt the other man slump wearily against his side. He opened his eyes only when he’d be sure that Vegas would be the first thing he’d see.
His heart nearly broke for how much he loved this man when he finally laid eyes on Vegas again. It had felt like a lifetime ago, not a mere hour or two. He smiled when their eyes met. Vegas’s gaze was glassy with afterglow and his gorgeous, high cheekbones were flushed. His hair was messy and sweaty and he was the most beautiful thing Pete had ever seen. He didn’t stop looking at Vegas when he reached up and undid the cuffs holding his arms above his head. He slowly helped Pete lower his arms, mouthing ‘I love you’ repeatedly. Vegas then released Pete from the spreader bar, and took the dildo out of Pete’s ass.
Lust thrummed through Pete again when Vegas stared at Pete’s gaping hole. He shivered, feeling so empty yet so full at the same time. Vegas grinned, unable to help himself as he slid himself down and licked around the rim of Pete’s stretched entrance. How was he to resist Pete like this, gaping and covered in sweat and looking so fucking beautiful with his messy hair and eyes so bright they glittered like gems? He’d only meant to give him one lick, but Vegas just couldn’t fucking stop when Pete started making those noises. Pete’s pleasure was the most important thing to Vegas in the world. He felt Pete reach down and link their fingers. He looked up and saw Pete using his other hand to swipe up the come on his chest and cheeks, and bring the fingers to his mouth.
Vegas kept licking and eating Pete’s ass like it was a feast until Pete got hard again, and then slowly jerked him off until he reached another orgasm. Pete could barely react when Vegas slowly licked up the come, half-unconscious with a blissful smile on his face, his fingers threaded with Vegas’s, holding on for dear life.
“I love you,” Vegas whispered as he kissed up Pete’s torso, licking up his own ejaculate where Pete had missed it.
“I love you,” Pete whispered back when their lips finally met, tasting each other’s semen in the kiss.
Vegas got up, having to hold onto the wall to make sure his legs would support his weight, and went to the bathroom to get the things needed for Pete’s aftercare. “Where did you go?” Vegas asked as he gently began taking care of Pete’s bruises and cleaning him up.
When Pete opened his big, gorgeous eyes, Vegas regretted asking the question. He saw it in his boyfriend’s gaze. The brief flash of agony broke his heart. Especially because it was an agony he caused, but didn’t even really remember.
“I’m okay,” Pete assured, bringing Vegas’s hand up to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “The darkness just made me a bit discombobulated,” he said in English with a small, sunny smile. He liked it when he learned new, complicated English words that he could drop on Vegas unknowingly.
Vegas’s insides melted into a warm puddle at that flash of Pete’s dimple. He hoped that there was never a time when even a small smile from Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham wouldn’t undo and rebuild him completely.
“We don’t have to use the blindfold again if you don’t want to,” Vegas assured, massaging cream into the darkening bruises on Pete’s thighs.
“Are you fucking kidding?” Pete asked, propping himself up on his elbows. “We are definitely doing that again. That was incredible.” He looked beside his hip where the dildo had been discarded. He couldn’t help the laugh that came out of him. “Fuck, it really is stupidly large.” He slowly sat up, a scintillating burn working its way up his spine. He leaned in so he could kiss Vegas’s soft, sensual lips. He was so glad that he was one of the few people that saw Vegas smile like this. Carefree, unguarded. Pete coveted those smiles like a greedy dragon. They were his . He wouldn’t share them with anyone. “I’m going to be feeling that for a couple of days,” he said happily, smiling widely into the kiss.
“Should I be feeling jealous now…?” Vegas teased as he helped Pete get up so they could shower.
Pete giggled, kissing between Vegas’s shoulders, then tracing the pattern of the freckles up the side of his neck with his tongue. “Nah. I love your dick too much. But, now I’m kinda hoping they make an even bigger version of that dildo…” he trailed off, laughing as Vegas scooped him up, both of them laughing as they made their way to the bathroom to clean up. Eventually.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“I used your credit card!” Macau shouted at Pete when he and Vegas came out into the main room of the house that they’d claimed after the remaining Minor Theerapanyakuns had been ‘relieved’ of their compound by Uncle Korn, in the flimsy disguise of Porsche.
“On what…?” Pete asked dubiously as Macau looked over the back of the couch on him, a big scowl on his mischievous face.
“On some Air Jordans.”
“Why?” Vegas growled. “You have like 20 pairs already.”
“That’s why it’s called a collection,” Macau pointed out, glaring at his older brother. “It’s what you deserve. It’s my compensation for my mental anguish. I know what you were doing in there!” He turned his attention back to the game he was playing. “I bought a pair for Chay too.”
“Uh, hi.” Chay’s head popped up from where he was sitting on the floor, the second controller in his hand. He gave a sheepish, nervous smile. He avoided meeting either man’s eyes, especially when Chay clocked the red rings around Pete’s wrists and the goofy smiles they flashed one another.
“He’s staying for dinner, too.”
“Oh, really?” Vegas said sarcastically. “It’s not like he’s here nearly every damn day already.” It was said without much vitriol, though. At first, he was very wary about Porsche’s younger brother and Macau hanging out so much together - it seemed like letting an obvious spy in their house to report directly back to Korn. Or even worse, Tankhun. Especially because he also came along with a Minor Family bodyguard. At least she stayed outside, and she wasn’t anyone that Vegas remembered from before his father’s failed coup.
However, he’d soon realized Chay was too honest to ever be a spy. He was a terrible liar, and so gentle that he made Porsche look like a fucking sociopath. And Macau needed a friend his own age that wasn’t his brother and his brother’s lover. Macau had also had everything stolen from him, so Vegas would give him anything he wanted, just like he would with Pete.
“Oh no, P’Vegas…” Chay began. “I don’t want to be an imposition.” Vegas and Pete were both also wet. They’d showered together. Chay flushed again, looking at Macau’s t-shirt instead. But the thoughts of sex started to jumble in his head, and looking at Macau’s chest, even with a t-shirt in front of it, started to make Chay flush even further, so he just turned around to face the TV again. He did not want his brain to go to the image of Macau’s chest under his shirt, how muscular he was, the ship tattoo on the underside of his bicep, how it would feel to be held by those strong arms. Nope, nope, nope. Definitely not going there.
“It’s not an imposition,” Vegas assured smoothly.
“You’re staying,” Macau demanded, hitting the pause button to resume their Tekken match.
“Okay,” Chay replied with a grin. He didn’t want to say that when Macau had called him to bitch about Vegas and Pete being ‘gross’ as he’d called it, Chay was already plotting to come over to keep him company because Vegas was a good cook. It totally wasn’t just to see Macau and his impish smile and smell how good he smelled. Totally not.
“We’ll make some extra you can bring home with you,” Pete said kindly, smiling at Chay.
“Thank you!” Chay smiled back. Pete’s smile was very infectious.
“Don’t smile at him!” Macau snarled. “He knows what he’s done.”
“Adults have sex, Macau,” said Vegas in English, walking further into the open concept living room to go to the kitchen area. “We had that talk when you were 10. And I very much like having sex with Pete.”
Macau wailed, covering his ears with his hands. Chay used the chance to win the round with a slick 10 string combo. But Chay caught the momentary smile on Macau’s lips. He felt a momentary pang of sadness. Vegas and Macau reminded him of his relationship with his brother before the Kinn and Kim and all the mafia bullshit happened.
“That’s a different bodyguard,” Vegas noted, jerking his head towards the bodyguard he could see through the plate glass windows leading out to the lanai where he spent a lot of time reading. Normally Chay had a tall, imposing looking middle-aged woman with cold eyes and thin lips that shadowed him, but the form with its back facing him was obviously male. “Did your evil, chaotic ways cause your last bodyguard to quit?”
“Huh…?” Chay looked up. Vegas had a way of joking that sounded totally serious. He smiled when he saw Vegas smirking at him. He’d only seen the other man smile a few times, and it made him feel like he’d been elevated to select company. “Oh, I think Tomb had some dinner or something? I dunno. It was something dumb and boring. I wasn’t paying attention to the reason.”
“Spoken like a true youngest mafia son,” Macau said, going to the character select screen. He reached forward to ruffle Chay’s hair, pausing and trying really hard not to think about how soft Chay’s hair was. The memory of Chay’s hair all mussed as his head bowed over his acoustic guitar, wearing the cutests baggy sweater flashed through Macau’s mind. He angrily willed the image away.
Pete followed Vegas to the kitchen to help, cocking his head. He didn’t recognize this bodyguard, but that wasn’t surprising. He had the feeling that Korn was purposely not sending anyone that Pete knew. Tomb seemed competent and Pete had only just begun to relax around her, but his hackles were up at this unfamiliar form.
Pete ran his hand lovingly up Vegas’s back, but kept his eyes on the back of this bodyguard. Just because he’d quit didn’t mean he’d immediately forgotten all his instincts. And when someone new from the Family came around his family, Pete was going to be on edge. He wouldn’t let anything endanger his husband and brother-in-law. He leaned in and kissed Vegas’s shoulder as he thought of him as his husband. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentally called Vegas that. But it wasn’t something he was ready to vocalize yet.
Vegas started to request ingredients, so Pete went to the pantry and started taking things out, but his fingers lingered on the counter above the drawer where he knew a gun was hidden. He just… didn’t like the feeling in his gut. And he’d learned through his life as a mafia enforcer, as an amateur boxer, and as the child of an abusive drunk, to always trust his instincts. The guard seemed to be playing on his phone - Pete caught a glimpse of brightly colored something or other, but then the phone flashed to the mirror app. The bodyguard moved the phone just a little bit, perhaps to check on Chay. But, the angle of the phone wasn’t towards the living room, but rather the kitchen. Towards Vegas, who now stepped into view of the full-length glass windows. It was a hot day - the sliding doors had been left open a little to create a cross-breeze. The doors were open…
“Vegas, down!” Pete shouted, wrenching open the drawer to get to the Glock inside. The bodyguard’s back was already moving, pulling out a gun. Pete couldn’t look back to see if Vegas had listened in time, everything was happening too fast and he didn’t dare take his eyes off the bodyguard. He only prayed that Vegas was crawling towards one of the other guns, in a small end-table near the stairs. “Macau, protect Chay!”
Pete distantly heard confused noises from the two younger men, but his blood was rushing in his head. He tasted adrenaline, bitter in the back of his throat as he got the gun in his hand, firing. But not before the bodyguard’s gun went off. He was carrying some sort of rapid fire gun that Pete couldn’t see from his position, so their peaceful home was immediately shattered by a hail of bullets.
They went through the open door towards the kitchen, but also smashed the plate glass and cut through the cushions of the chaise lounge where Pete often kissed Vegas awake when he’d fallen asleep there reading. He dropped to the ground, grunting as he smashed his elbow off the counter on the way down. Where his head had been behind the cabinet was now riddled with holes.
He shot a few times, a victorious rage coursing through his body when the bullets stopped. He definitely hadn’t hit to kill though, unfortunately. Pete thought he’d grazed his leg or something, but it gave him a chance to aim a little better. The bodyguard/assassin/whoever the fuck he was moved at the last minute so a center mass shot wound up getting the shoulder of his firing arm. Pete fired a few more times, but his target moved and started a lurching run towards the driveway.
Pete pushed himself up to a crouch and followed after. The floor was littered with broken glass that he would have to jump over lest he want to rip the soles of his feet apart, and jumping out into the open like that was the stupidest possible thing he could do. “Fuck!” he swore when he heard an engine. “Stay down!” Pete shouted as he moved through the main room. He hoped that the others could still hear him. He hoped that they were okay. Vegas please please please please be okay, baby. He ran towards the front door, pressing himself to the side of it and flung it open.
A few more bullets streamed through the now open door, and then tires squealed against the pavement as the car drove off. Pete peeked his head around the door frame to try to see the make and model of the car. Black sedan, it looked like maybe a Nissan? And then it was gone.
Pete breathed out, and it came out as a whine. “Vegas…?” he called desperately. “Vegas? Are you okay, baby?” His thoughts were filled for the second time that day of Vegas by that poolside, his life leaking from his body. Terror clutched Pete’s heart. He would not lose Vegas again like that. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.
“I’m here,” Vegas answered from behind the island.
Relief shot through Pete as he skidded to his knees, sliding across the floor towards the sound of Vegas’s voice.
“Pete,” Vegas breathed when the other man appeared beside him. The relief caused tears to prick his eyes. He desperately reached out to touch Pete. “Pete, Pete,” he murmured, kissing all across his face. “Fuck, sunshine, are you okay?”
Pete nodded, also kissing every part of Vegas’s face his lips touched. He then peeked over the island. “Macau?! Chay?!”
“We’re okay!” Macau cried, but his voice sounded shaken. “I think…”
Vegas’s fingers suddenly gripped Pete’s chin tight and turned his face towards him. He reached up with his other hand and grazed it across Pete’s right cheekbone. Pete winced and saw Vegas’s fingers come back with blood. “You’re bleeding, sunshine.”
Pete, surprised, reached up and touched his own face. The adrenaline had been pumping so hard that he hadn’t even noticed. A bullet had grazed his cheek. He then grunted as Vegas touched his shoulder, where his shirt was torn and his shoulder grazed as well. Blood pumped down Pete’s arm.
Fury immediately blackened Vegas’s eyes at the idea that a bullet meant for him would even dare to go near Pete. His mind immediately filled with all kinds of ways to make this fucker pay for this. He would be so beyond torture that they would have to create a new word to describe what Vegas would do to him. Vegas tried not to let this side of himself well up as much anymore. He didn’t want Pete to see it and go back to the memories of the safe house. He didn’t want to be the man his father had created anymore. But, the idea of someone hurting Pete…
Pete cupped the sides of Vegas’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “Hold onto it,” Pete murmured, sensing Vegas’s thoughts. How could he not, when he was having the same thoughts? He held Vegas’s gaze, Pete’s own eyes filled with a black, fathomless rage that mirrored Vegas’s own. “Keep it until we find him. And then we’ll make him suffer .”
“I love you,” Vegas whispered, breath mingling with Pete’s.
“Shit,” Macau hissed out from across the room, causing Pete and Vegas to break out of their bubble. The one that they often fell into, where they were the only two people in the world.
“Mac!” Vegas called, crouching and moving towards the sound of his brother’s voice. Macau’s head popped out from under the couch cushions, which he must have thrown over himself and Porschay to shield them. Chay slowly sat up from underneath Macau, eyes wide with fear.
“Phi…” Macau croaked out, stumbling out of the pile of cushions and collapsing in his brother’s arms. He hadn’t intended on crying, but once Vegas’s arms crushed him into a hug, he couldn’t help it. All he’d been able to picture as the sounds of bullets flew above them, was Vegas in the hospital, so close to death with every beep of the machines keeping him alive. He’d almost lost his whole world. Again.
Vegas looked over the top of Macau’s head to Chay, who looked on the verge of shock. He looked at Macau’s trembling back, and crawled forward, reaching his hand out to offer a comforting touch, but stopped, lost and unsure and terrified. Vegas was teleported back to the first time that Macau had seen violence like this, far too young no matter how much Vegas tried to protect him. Not only from the violence of their world, but from the violence in their own home. He opened his arms to welcome Chay into the embrace too.
Chay looked at the silent gesture from this man that was supposed to be a monster, and crumpled. He pressed himself against Macau’s back, wrapping his arms around both him and Vegas. When Vegas closed his arms around Chay’s back, the tears that had been stuck in the back of his eyes fell, the come-down from the fear making him shiver. He then felt more hands as Pete joined the embrace. Chay felt both like an intruder and a member of this family. It made him miss Porsche back before he’d met Kinn. It made him wish that his mother would look at him with anything other than just a blank, unrecognizing stare.
Chay wiped his eyes and realized his hand was wet. In the course of the embrace, he’d reached out and looped his fingers with Pete’s, which were covered in blood. “P’Pete! You’re bleeding!”
“Oh. Yeah…” Pete was coming down from the adrenaline high, and felt sluggish and drained.
“Who the fuck did this?!” Macau snarled angrily. Chay reached out and linked their hands together. Not just to comfort the other boy, but because he really still needed grounding comfort, too. Macau didn’t pull away, but rather held Chay’s hand tightly. Chay’s grip brought him back down to earth. Chay’s serene, calming presence did that to him a lot. His bright smile, his warm coffee eyes, his soothing voice. They all made Macau feel present and real.
Vegas wiped his eyes, not even aware he’d been crying into Macau’s hair. “We’ll find out. We’ll check the cameras. Chay…” he trailed off gently. “Can you call your brother? Tell him to come alone. And to not even tell Kinn where he’s going.”
Chay nodded slowly, the words taking a few moments to sink into his brain. His phone had been tossed across the room when Macau had flung the couch cushions, so he disentangled his fingers from Macau’s biting grip and went to retrieve it as Vegas went to get a first aid kit for Pete. Pete propped himself against the island, his grip on the gun never wavering, his eyes still sweeping around on high alert.
“Hi Phi,” Chay greeted when Porsche picked up the phone. He tried to sound calm and normal, not wanting to set his older brother off, but he supposed it didn’t work when Porsche immediately sounded nervous. He knew why Vegas had made this request of him. He really hated this mafia shit.
“Chay, are you okay?”
“Can you come to P’Vegas and P’Pete’s…? Alone, Phi. Please. Act calm. I’m okay, I promise. And, please don’t tell Kinn where you’re going. Just say you’re coming to pick me up for some brother time.”
“What happened?”
“Just come.”
There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. “You got it Chay,” he said, falsely bright. He sounded like a much younger version of himself when Chay would ask about their parents and Porsche didn’t want to upset him.
“I love you,” Chay blurted out. Even though there were still lingering feelings of anger towards Porsche for getting them dragged into this whole mess, he still loved his brother fiercely, and today could have gone a lot worse. But, he’s said it after Porsche had hung up. He’d promised he’d tell him when he saw his big, dumb face again.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Porsche frowned at the still image on the CCTV image that Vegas pulled up on his laptop. His beautiful face darkened with a furious frown. “He’s not one of mine. To be fair, there are a lot of new bodyguards around…” he trailed off, trying not to look too accusatory at Vegas.
It would have been so easy to hate Vegas forever and put all the blame for the war between the Main and Minor Families straight on his shoulders. He made a very easy villain, and he hadn’t exactly made himself the most trustworthy man around. But, Porsche was never a man to hold grudges. Kinn said with affection that Porsche forgave too easily and was too soft for this life. Porsche had questioned Kinn’s self-awareness with a scoffing laugh and then kissed him silly. But being in this life also showed him that things weren’t that black and white. These people were all very damaged by their surroundings.
Porsche started pacing, rolling the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to his elbows. “You told Chay to tell me not to tell Kinn because you think this guy’s from the Main Family?” he asked, spinning on his heel to look at Vegas. “You’ve made a lot of enemies, you know.”
“I have,” Vegas replied tiredly. His eyes flashed with barely contained malice though, and that made Porsche nervous. Vegas’s temper was like a nuclear bomb.
“Enemies that would have been guarding Chay?” Pete asked venomously.
Porsche started. He’d never heard that tone in Pete’s voice before. There was a red line with butterfly sutures across Pete’s cheek where he’d been grazed with a bullet, and his eyes were filled with the same dark promise of a scorched earth that burned in Vegas’s eyes.
Porsche had been less surprised than Kinn when Pete had quit and run off with Vegas. He’d seen the way that Pete had been so broken when he came back from ‘vacation’, but even then he’d refused to give up Vegas. And he’d seen how Vegas had instantly dropped 5 million baht just to see Pete for a few minutes, his whole composure changing even at the thought of Porsche’s friend. He’d felt a bit foolish for not seeing more of Pete than what had been on the surface.
“I wouldn’t put it past Korn,” Porsche admitted, pulling out a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes. He offered one to the other two men, and they took them. “I don’t trust him. Not with what’s going on with my mom.”
“Have you talked to Kinn about this?” Pete asked, cigarette dangling from his lips. He leaned against the desk, and reached back to twist his fingers with Vegas’s, as if to make sure he was still there.
“I can’t,” Porsche admitted sadly. “He doesn’t want to see this shit about his father. I’m sure you know how that goes.”
“You’re the only one here who has a father who wasn’t a piece of shit,” Pete said simply.
Porsche flinched a little. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry for saying the truth. But… would Korn send someone knowing Chay was here?” asked Pete.
“Maybe there was a switch or something,” Vegas wondered. “Chay said earlier that Tomb had to go to some job. He wasn’t specific. But maybe this guy took Tomb’s place for a day,” Vegas chuckled bitterly. “I’m sure that the price on my head is high enough that it would cause lots of people to disregard the safety of a teenage boy.”
“I can maybe get Arm to look into it on the low low,” Porsche murmured, taking a long drag, muscles relaxing as the nicotine rushed through his system. “Kinn did have a meeting tonight with a Triad guy, so maybe Tomb really did have to get called over.” His face softened as he looked at Vegas and Pete. “Look, I’m glad you’re not dead. You don’t have to believe me, but I really, really, really fucking hate this job so you have to take it over when I’m done.”
“Done?” Pete echoed as Vegas laughed darkly.
“I need to find out about my mom,” Porsche said quietly. “Your dad was going to say something before he died. Korn has never told the truth, so while Gun was a lying bastard, that doesn’t mean that Korn is automatically telling the truth.” Porsche stubbed out his cigarette. “I’ll also send some outside contractors over to fix up the mess.” He picked up his garnet red suit jacket from where he’d carelessly slung it across the back of the chair. Kinn would probably complain that he didn’t take care of his clothes properly. Oh well. He’d just have to wear fewer clothes.
“Let us know when you find out anything,” Pete murmured.
“I will. I’ll take Chay and go now.” Chay and Macau had passed out in the panic room, strung out and exhausted.
“Look… I know that today was a shit show, but Chay is welcome back anytime. It’s hard for them to have friends in this life. I just… don’t want it taken out on their friendship,” Vegas ground out.
Porsche briefly felt like he’d been punched in the solar plexus. Vegas was always surprising him. He saw the naked love for Macau in Vegas’s gaze, and it briefly chased away that promise of horrific violence.
“You think Chay would listen even if I did?” Porsche questioned with a smirk, waving over his shoulder as he left, but not before giving Pete’s hip a playful kick.
“We’re definitely putting in bulletproof glass this time,” Vegas muttered as Pete came around the desk.
“I knew this would happen eventually,” Pete muttered, lowering himself into Vegas’s lap, straddling him. “Why does there have to be this Main Family and Minor Family separation horseshit? Why can’t they just leave us alone?” he spat, burying his face into the crook of Vegas’s neck.
“I’m still here,” Vegas said after a while, covering Pete’s hands with his own. It dawned on Pete that he’d been tracing the pattern of Vegas’s bullet wounds.
“Of course you are. You told me I’m the only one who’s allowed to kill you,” Pete answered with a watery grin. He tried to stop his lips from quivering when Vegas reached up and cupped the sides of his face in the way that he liked to, and that made Pete feel like the most precious thing in the world. Vegas’s thumb traced over and over his dimple. “And to think, today started with our only problem being trying to buy the biggest dildo we can find.”
Vegas spit out a laugh and pressed his face into Pete’s chest, listening to the sounds of life coming from his lungs and heart. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Even more than the biggest dildo in the world?” Pete grinned as he felt Vegas’s laugh vibrate against his sternum.
“That’s what we should use as wedding vows,” came Vegas’s muffled reply.
Pete bit his lower lip. Vegas using those words filled him with an instant thrill. He wanted to just shout “I want to be your husband so bad you fucking maniac”, but instead kissed the top of Vegas’s head. “We should check on Macau, darling.”
Vegas nodded, feeling cold at the loss of Pete’s body heat when he stood up. But, he could have lost so much more.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Vegas sighed, eyes rolling up to the ceiling when Pete’s teeth teasingly dug into his trapezius muscle.
“I’m bored,” Pete complained, now tugging on Vegas’s earlobe. “I wish we’d thought to bring more toys with us.” His fingers slipped up under Vegas’s soft black t-shirt. They were at a safe house that the Main Family didn’t know about while their house got repaired, but it definitely wasn’t the lake house. Vegas would never take Pete back there, even though Pete said he would be fine with it. Vegas wouldn’t be fine with it.
“I’m trying to read here,” Vegas muttered, smirking as Pete groaned against his neck. Pete grabbed the book and flung it across the room. “Macau is in the next room and we don’t have our soundproofing,” said Vegas, giving all his effort to not reacting to Pete’s touches. It was excessively difficult.
“I just want to rip you apart and crawl inside you,” Pete breathed into Vegas’s ear. “I want to fill your ass with so much come that it will be coming out your mouth.” He laughed giddily when he felt Vegas shiver. “I think it’s working. He’s not looking at his book anymore.” His fingers traveled further up under Vegas’s shirt, slowly brushing over the other man’s nipples. “I think I’m getting better at flirting.”
“You’re not getting better at talking to yourself, you fucking goof,” Vegas breathed, head lolling back onto Pete’s shoulder.
“Maybe we can try not to moan too loud if we’re choking on each other’s dicks, hmm?” Pete’s head started spinning when he reached into Vegas’s pants and wrapped his fingers around his half-hard penis. “We could have been loud if we went to the other safe house.”
Pete felt Vegas’s back stiffen, and his cock soften. The complete opposite of what his own cock wanted, but he pressed forward. “This place is small and the air conditioner is fritzy and smells old and musty. And I wouldn’t mind being able to actually enjoy how nice that place was.”
“Pete…”
“Vegas…” He sighed as Vegas pulled his hand out of his pants. Pete gripped Vegas’s waist tightly so he wouldn’t be able to squirm away. “I told you I was okay with it. Well, maybe ‘okay’ isn’t the right word. But I’ve moved past it.” Pete had never been one to hold onto feelings. He liked to get things out of his system. He didn’t want things to fester - that had been his father’s thing.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”
“Do you think I’m so weak that I can’t make my own decisions?” Pete asked.
“I think that I twisted you up so much that…”
“Vegas, I can–”
“I can’t watch you break again,” Vegas interrupted sharply. He tried to pull away from Pete’s grip, but then the other man wrapped his legs around Vegas’s hips, tangling him up like a warm, sunny spider.
“Yeah okay, that wasn’t a great time. But I forgave you. And I forgave myself. I didn’t want to believe that I liked what we were doing, but it was a lie. I don’t want to lie to myself. It was my choice to forgive you, Vegas. It’s not your decision to make if I’m over it or not,” Pete said sternly. “And you didn’t twist me all up or fuck me up. I was already fucked up. I can be a fucking weirdo all on my own, Vegas Theerapanyakun. I never needed your help for that.”
“Pete…” Vegas whispered thickly, eyes stinging.
“I can’t make you forgive yourself, darling. But I know that you’re trying. You’re trying really hard and I’m proud of you. I love you more and more every day. You’re a fucking weirdo and our weirdness meshes perfectly.” He peppered kisses against the back of Vegas’s neck and shoulders between his words. “We both broke, and we’re putting each other back together. When have you ever cared what anyone else would say about us? Nobody else matters besides us. Who cares if they think we’re toxic and fucked up?”
“I care what you think.”
“I’m telling you what I think,” Pete said, wrapping his legs tighter around Vegas’s hips. “I’ve seen the worst parts of you, Vegas. And I love those parts the same way I love the part that smiles when you see a cute cat or hedgehog, or the parts that seem happiest just to sit in a sunbeam and read a book. I know you don’t want to let the Vegas from the safehouse surface much anymore, but I’m looking forward to seeing him again when we find this motherfucker.” Pete smiled with contentment when he felt Vegas’s back relax against his chest.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do,” Pete said. “Who else do you think could keep up with me?” He began nibbling on Vegas’s shoulder again, pressing his teeth harder with each bite.
“Did you start touching me just to have this conversation?” Vegas asked archly.
“I don’t need an excuse to feel you up.” Pete’s hand slid back down into Vegas’s pants. He hissed in delight when he felt that Vegas’s erection was coming back. “Macau has noise canceling headphones, you realize.”
Vegas yelped and laughed when Pete suddenly disentangled from him and pinned him to the mattress, hips slotted perfectly between Vegas’s legs. He reached up and stroked the injury across Pete’s cheek. “I hope Porsche finds him. I want to ruin him for hurting you.”
“I want to ruin him with you. But right now I want to fuck you.” He lowered his head and claimed Vegas’s mouth with his own. Their tongues slaked against each other, and Vegas groaned into the kiss when their now hard erections rubbed together through the fabric of their clothes.
Pete slid himself down lower, covering Vegas’s left nipple with his mouth, licking and sucking with relish. Vegas arched his back, legs wrapping around Pete’s thighs. Pete was about to give the same attention to the right nipple, when the loud, shrill klaxon of the door buzzer interrupted everything, beeping in the pattern that told them it was Porsche.
“That bastard,” Pete hissed. “ You did this,” he said to Vegas as he sat up. “You said his name out loud. It summoned him.”
Vegas groaned, closing his eyes and focusing on willing his erection away. It almost worked but then he looked at Pete, crouched in front of him, doing the same thing. How was he so beautiful?
“Am I interrupting…?” Porsche asked with glee when he came into the room, not looking the least bit sorry about it. He looked luminous in a crisp, all white linen outfit.
“Yes,” Vegas and Pete snapped in unison.
“You almost got shot yesterday, Pete.”
“ And ?” Pete asked.
“I never would have expected you to be this slutty when we first met,” Porsche teased.
“I am absolutely the biggest slut in this room,” Pete said with pride. “You will never be a bigger slut than me.”
A strangled noise of horror came from behind Porsche, who was now laughing loudly. Chay appeared from behind his brother. “I’m… uh… going to find Macau. Uh, bye…”
“You better be here for a reason,” Vegas said darkly. He still didn’t trust himself to sit up, so he crossed his legs over the edge of the bed.
Porsche handed them some folded pieces of paper. “Didn’t want to send it over the phone. Tomb wasn’t at Kinn’s meeting. She was throwing up in her room for the past day. Maybe some sort of minor poisoning. We think this guy was part of the recent hires, and used the chance to take Vegas out. That was probably his intention all along.”
Vegas opened the papers. “Your handwriting is awful.”
Porsche shook his head. “Fuck off! That’s how you treat someone who’s helping you out?”
Pete read over his lover’s shoulders. “It really is terrible, Porsche.”
Porsche bonked his friend over the head. “Prick.”
“A location, at least. Who sent him?” Vegas glared at the address of the guy’s last known location. A plan was already forming. His name was Shadow. How fucking cute. The only thing that would be left of him when Vegas was done with him would be his goddamn shadow.
Porsche shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to have any connection to any other group. Probably a private hitman or enforcer. Of course that also means that I can’t find a connection to Korn, either.”
“Korn wouldn’t be that stupid,” Pete said lowly, his eyes going to Vegas’s profile. He saw the darkness filling his lover, and it sent an anticipatory chill up his spine. He flashed back to when Vegas had tortured that guy for information, blood splattered across the plastic poncho he’d worn, but it had still sprayed across his sexy face. Pete’s vision went red with desire.
“So, I can only assume that you’re going to be tearing after this guy real fucking fast. I’ll do you a solid and stay here and babysit the children.”
“You’re so magnanimous, Khun Porsche,” Vegas said sarcastically.
“I like the idea of you owing me one” Porsche laughed. “Just please try to not get the cops involved. Or worse, the press.”
Vegas made a face and stood up. His mind became consumed by thoughts of revenge and had chased away the last vestiges of desire. For now. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked in English.
“A horny psychopath,” Porsche replied, also in English.
Vegas glared at him and pushed past to go get the bag of tools he’d made sure to take from the house when they’d come to the safe house.
Porsche grinned mischievously at his best friend. “Is it wrong that it’s so fun that he hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you. I think a lot of his affection for you was genuine,” Pete said happily, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Thanks.” His thousand-watt smile fell. “How’s Chay?”
Porsche sobered. “Fine, I guess. He was shook up and I don’t think he slept well, even though he insisted he was fine and demanded that I bring him here. I think he was more worried about Macau than anything.”
“That’s so cute.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, go after your murder husband. I’ll hold things down here. You got any food?”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“Macau?” Chay asked when he stepped in the room. His friend was slumped on the bed. Some Star Wars thing was playing in the background, but Macau barely seemed to be paying attention to it. He was staring off into the middle distance. Chay knew that look because he’d had it on his face last night, too. “Mac, you okay? I’m definitely not okay after hearing P’Pete call himself a slut.”
Macau looked up at the sound of Chay’s voice. He leapt up off the bed and stormed towards Chay. “I didn’t know if you’d come back,” he said in a rush as he grabbed Chay into a hug. “I totally wouldn’t have blamed you if you never wanted to come back.”
Chay’s heart stuttered in his chest. Last night, when he’d been trying to sleep, he’d thought of the feeling of Macau crying against him, and it had broken his heart. He didn’t have much experience with relationships, and his last one (and only one) had been such a disaster, he didn’t know if he wanted to trust his budding feelings towards Macau.
Macau’s arms felt so strong and warm around him. As strong as Chay had thought they’d be. Chay reciprocated the embrace, thinking about how Macau really was the opposite of Kim. Kim had seemed so cool and put together, but now Chay saw that it was aloofness and coldness, like a glacier. He hid all his feelings and never told the truth. Chay realized he’d never known anything about Kim. Even now, when it seemed that Kim wanted to bridge the gap that he made , he did so with videos of songs. He didn’t even come to Chay directly. But Macau burned like a volcano. He was explosive and never hid anything. He said what he wanted all the time.
When Macau’s arms tightened around Chay, he let out a soft moan that couldn’t be explained as anything other than sexual. Chay sucked in his breath and stiffened. Oh my god, you stupid body. How could you be so embarrassing?!
Macau pulled back to look into Chay’s eyes, but didn’t lessen the hug. “Porschay…?” he inquired quietly, bewilderment on his face.
The way that Macau said his name… Chay’s absolutely stupid body decided it wanted to be humiliating again and let out a noise that was maybe a sigh, maybe a whimper, maybe a moan? But definitely mortifying. His face felt like it was burning and melting right off his skull. Where was the guy that had been so forward with Kim? Kim had been an idol, a celebrity. Chay had crushed on him forever, but that didn’t stop him from being bold and direct. Kim was still ruining everything in his life from his stupid ivory tower apartment - too good to even come to his family’s manor, even though he was just like the rest of them.
I’m not going to let him keep doing this to me , Chay told himself. Macau was still looking at him in confusion. He could only imagine the array of facial expressions that had just passed across his face. He leaned in and did something he’d wanted to do for longer than he realized. He pressed his lips against Macau’s, feeling his hot breath, the proof of his life and that he was really okay after last night. That they both were.
Macau stood there like a moron for too many seconds, but then wrapped his arms tighter around Chay’s body, crushing their chests together, as he opened his mouth to the kiss. The idea of kissing Chay was something he’d only entertained when he was deep in a masturbatory fantasy. He knew that his dumbass cousin had broken Chay’s heart, and he didn’t want to toy with him, or make him feel even more confused by trying to move in on the rebound. Besides, he would have been happy to be just friends with Chay, rather than being an awkward nothing.
But that didn’t mean that Macau wouldn’t take this gift when it was given to him. Chay moaned against him again, and Macau had never heard a better sound. He breathed in against the kiss, sucking that moan into his mouth, so it would go into his lungs and whoosh through his veins and live in his body forever, sustaining him.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” Macau groaned between kisses. “Since the first time I saw you, looking so cute in that oversized striped sweater with the holes in the sleeves, your hair all messy as you played your guitar.”
“I wanted to know if you were as strong as you looked after I saw you shirtless for the first time,” Chay admitted, his words garbled by their tongues twining together in his mouth. “I wish I’d said something sooner.”
“We’re both so stupid,” Macau agreed, his hands moving up to run through Chay’s soft hair. He wanted to mess it up - just like the first time he’d seen him.
Both young men gasped and broke apart when they heard Porsche call from the next room “hey, do you know what food places are good nearby? Your brother did not leave me any food.”
Porsche popped his head in the room, where Macau was sitting up on the edge of the bed. Chay laid on his stomach beside him, both of them looking at the TV. They both fought a battle to regulate their breathing.
“Why would he leave you food?” Macau asked, raising an eyebrow. He was proud of how normal he sounded.
“Because I’m babysitting you two while they…” Porsche paused. “Well, they went out.”
“You found that guy, didn’t you? Well, there is a noodle stall a block away that’s really good. They also have dumplings. They should still be open if you hurry.”
“Why am I going to the stall?” Porsche asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“Because we were shot at yesterday, and you’re the big, mean head of the Minor Family, Khun Porsche.” He flashed a huge, toothy smile.
“You are too much like your brother, you little asshole.” He shook his head. “Don’t let him rub off on you, Chay.”
Chay pursed his lips so he wouldn’t laugh. “Of course not, Phi.”
“Stay here and don’t let anyone in.”
“You think I’m new at this?” Macau asked, looking anywhere but Porschay. He knew he would start cackling if he did. His fingers rubbed against Chay’s hip where his body blocked Porsche’s view.
“I think Vegas’s favor to me is going to have to be double for putting up with you.” Porsche kept muttering to himself as he left the doorway, his voice getting muted as he moved through the safe house.
Macau leaned in and whispered “am I rubbing off on you?” in Chay’s ear.
Chay’s eyes fluttered shut. “Well, you better start trying. Start with my butt.”
Macau’s eyes widened. “Chay! I didn’t expect you to be so flirty.” He breathed out the last word as his tongue traced Chay’s ear.
“Well, if I’m going to steal away P’Pete’s title of Biggest Slut, I better get moving.”
Macau threw his head back and laughed uproariously, then crawled on top of him to make out with him as hard as he could before Porsche got back from the noodle shop.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
The man known as Shadow cocked his gun when there was a knock on the door of his burner apartment. He had several like this around the city. It helped to have different locations when he was working with the various criminal organizations of Bangkok. He’d peppered that fucker Vegas’s house with so many bullets, but if he’d missed… Vegas Theerapanyakun’s reputation was so vicious and fearsome, he was like the bad guy boogeyman. Shadow was waiting for his contact to get back to him about a quick way out to Cambodia. He’d lay low for a while, and then come back to resume his thug-for-hire lifestyle once the heat died down.
He wasn’t an assassin, but he’d take any job that paid well, and this one had been for so much baht that even Vegas’s reputation couldn’t sour the deal. He pointed the gun at the door and checked the security camera he’d set up, just for this kind of moment. He relaxed only slightly when he saw the delivery guy standing outside the door, holding his bags of food.
“Look up at the camera,” he said into the intercom. This was a shitty neighborhood, so the delivery guy didn’t seem to find this request to be too insane. He looked around to find the camera, and then stared into it. Shadow knew what all the delivery guys looked like for the restaurants in the area for just this reason. Horse face, high eyebrows that made him look surprised, thin lips and a terrible wispy mustache. This guy was definitely familiar.
Shadow moved to the door and opened it a crack, the gun’s muzzle preceding him. “Leave it on the floor.”
“Sure, sure.” The delivery man slowly crouched to put the bags down, eyes looking even more startled than usual. “So are you gonna pay me, or rob me?” he asked, looking up.
“Eyes down, motherfucker,” Shadow hissed, training the gun on the guy’s head. He clutched the baht in his free hand, his gaze jerking out to the hallway when he heard a loud slam down the hall. It was the stairwell door down near the elevators. His eyes quickly moved back to the delivery guy, but he gasped when something burned his eyes. His finger moved to press the trigger of the gun, but his hand was being jerked upwards and he lost his grip, the delivery guy continuing to spray him in the eyes with something that felt like it was melting them out of his face.
Shadow stumbled back, dropping the gun as he instinctually clutched at his eyes, trying to rub out whatever this fucker had sprayed at him. It smelled like mace. He groaned, trying to blindly crawl towards the bathroom and away from the door as it was kicked in.
“This was a successful delivery,” Shadow heard a smooth voice say behind him. He tried to roll over and windmilled his arms to find his gun, but a knee smashed down into the small of his back, pinning him in place.
Vegas reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of money and handed it to the delivery guy. “You can enjoy the meal. Always nice to see you.”
“Thank you Khun Vegas,” he said, giving a respectful wai. “The fire escape leads to the back alley. You can’t see it from the street.”
Vegas gave him some more money. “Thanks for the tip, Jun. Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you Khun Vegas, Khun Pete.” He bowed to each of them, picked up his fragrant bags, and sauntered down the hallway. Vegas closed the door behind him, watching as Pete kneeled on Shadow’s back, covering his nose and mouth with a chloroform-soaked rag. Shadow’s struggles were pathetic against someone with as much martial training as Pete, and eventually his head thudded down on the ground.
“You look so hot right now, baby,” Vegas crooned, moving across the room to the window that led to the fire escape.
“Focus,” Pete said, but it was with a grin. “Pretty stupid of him to not realize that you would be connected to half the delivery guys in this neighborhood.”
Vegas shrugged, struggling to open the window. The wood had swollen from the humidity. “The Main Family never deemed the peons important enough to know. That was our job…” he trailed off and grunted, cursing as he tried to open the window. “Fuck!” he hissed when it finally slid up.
“My big, strong hero.”
“Shut up, you.” Vegas slid out the window to the rickety fire escape. It whined under his weight. “Great. We better hurry before it collapses.”
Pete groaned as he dragged Shadow’s prone body to the window. “This fucker is heavy.” They grunted and cursed as they maneuvered Shadow to the fire escape. Vegas got Shadow on his back and Pete secured his wrists with zip ties so he wouldn’t fall as they went down the ladder the two storeys to the dingy alley below. Honestly, they could have just gutted him right here and now. The alley stunk like Shadow wouldn’t be the first thing to die there this week.
They reached the car they’d ‘borrowed’ from the Minor Family and Vegas unceremoniously dumped Shadow in the trunk. “It would have been so fucking embarrassing to die to this idiot. He didn’t even check to see if I was dead. He fell for the door slamming trick and took his eyes off Jun. Honestly, I’m insulted.” He closed the trunk, making sure to bang Shadow’s head for good measure, as Pete started the car.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Shadow groaned as he floated back to consciousness. His eyes fucking burned, and when he tried to open them, he had to slam them shut with a screech. Not only were they on fire, but the light in the room was so white and bright that it seemed to burn right into his brain. He tried to cover them, but he couldn’t move his arms. His arms were restrained above his head, taut enough that his shoulder muscles strained and ached. His knees also ached against the unforgiving floor he was knelt upon. The air was chilly against his sweaty, naked skin.
He gasped when something cold rushed against his eyes. It dripped into his mouth, and he tasted water.
“That better?” a voice asked in front of him. “Can’t have you keeping your eyes closed. We want you to see us.”
Shadow kept his eyes closed in protest.
“You can open them, or we can staple them open,” a second voice said. A familiar one that sent chills down Shadow’s spine.
Shadow slowly opened his eyes and saw the blurry vision of Vegas’s fuck toy, that grinning idiot that used to look after Tankhun. There was no grin on his face now. There was no expression at all. But his eyes burned in a way that frightened Shadow. Rather than show how unsettled he was, he spit in Pete’s face.
“Very classy,” Pete said, rising to full height. Shadow spared a brief glance around the room. It was some sort of tiled room, though it looked long abandoned. Some sort of gym or school? “This has to be the sloppiest hit attempt I’ve ever seen,” he said, wiping the spit off his face.
As he looked at Shadow, he briefly flashed back to the bodyguard at the pool, the other one who’d almost stolen Vegas from him. He hadn’t been able to take his time with that guy, to return to him all the pain that had roared through Pete when Vegas’s small, sad, hopeful smile had turned into pained shock, then into nothing. Shadow would pay that price double.
He walked back to the rolling metal medical tray behind Vegas, reaching up and rubbing his hand up and down Vegas’s arm, needing to feel the heat of his body. Needing to feel that he was here, that he was alive. That he hadn’t left Pete. Pete picked up various tools from the tray, as if to inspect them. But it was more to show them to their captive, to give him a taste of what might come.
“How much was my life worth to Uncle?” Vegas asked, crossing his arms. He was content for now to stand back and watch Pete. He’d always known that there was darkness under the surface in Pete - it was what had called to Vegas in the first place. But he was watching something hellish float up to the surface, and it thrilled him. As if he’d summoned some slumbering demon.
Shadow remained silent. If this was all that Vegas had, it was disappointing. He wouldn’t break this easily.
“You should answer him,” Pete murmured. “You’re not leaving here alive anyway.”
“I’m not going to answer to some disgraced mafia’s cum dumpster,” Shadow sneered.
Vegas strode forward in a blink and backhanded the restrained man across the face so hard that his body rocked back, his knees scraping against the floor.
Pete frowned, but not because of the insult. That was absolutely nothing to him. For some reason, seeing Vegas slap someone else filled him with a white hot jealousy. How dare this man feel Vegas’s hand on him like that? Vegas’s hands belonged to him . Everyone thought that Vegas was the obsessive, possessive one in their relationship. But as in everything, they were always on the same wavelength.
Pete strode forward. “Darling, his words don’t matter to me,” he assured.
Shadow’s eyes went to Pete’s hands, where he was carrying an awl and a mallet. He started to struggle as Pete put the tip of the awl to his shoulder. Vegas went around to his back and held him still. He grinned over the top of Shadow’s head at Pete as the other man drove the tip of the awl into the meat of Shadow’s stretched shoulder. He brought the mallet down once, twice. The awl sunk into his muscle and popped out the back side. Shadow groaned through clenched teeth, but refused to scream.
“One,” Pete whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Pete turned around and lit a little propane camp canister. “Vegas, we should maybe make sure he can’t run away. Just in case he gets out of his restraints.” He picked up a scalpel and held it above the flame to heat the blade so it would cut and cauterize at the same time. “Do you want to do the honors, my love?”
Vegas grinned wickedly and took the heated blade from his lover’s fingers. Pete watched Vegas intently as he stepped back. He lined up the scalpel with the back of Shadow’s thigh but when he hamstrung him, he looked at Pete. Only Pete. The screams didn’t register. Neither did the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh as the hot blade cut through like butter. Vegas then cut the other hamstring, eyes devouring Pete’s face. Those beautiful eyes glittered under the harsh light. The wound on his cheek seemed to glow. The wound that Shadow had given him. He yanked Shadow’s head back so hard that he ripped out a clump of hair.
“Did you think you could just come into my home and try to kill my family with this sloppy-ass plan and expect to come out free and clear and richer?” Vegas screamed in his face. “Huh?! You stupid motherfucker!” The thought of Pete dying to this absolutely useless piece of shit made Vegas’s already tenuous grip on his temper shatter. The thought of Pete leaving him filled him fear and panic, and it mingled with his anger and bloodlust, creating a drug-like haze in his mind. He dipped his thumb into Shadow’s left eye socket and pushed. Their captor let out a high-pitched keen, a sound that was beyond human, as his eyeball bowed under the pressure of Vegas’s thumb. It ballooned out in the socket, and then burst like ripe fruit, the watery juices exploding up across the back of Vegas’s hand, oozing down Shadow’s face in a parody of tears.
Vegas laughed at Shadow’s screams as he dug his fingers into the now red and raw eye socket, pulling out the leftover juices, as well as the retinal nerves. He gave them a playful yank, Shadow vomiting down his chest from the agony. His remaining eye rolled around in its socket, the sclera very visible in his terror. He stretched the ropey nervous out taut, laughing as Shadow jerked and moaned. He took the scalpel and sliced through them.
“Hungry? You didn’t have your noodles, after all,” Vegas said dangerously, rubbing the bundle of nerves against Shadow’s lips. He pursed his lips and jerked his face away, throwing up again in his mouth at the ghostly sensation of his own body part against his lips.
Vegas dropped the nerves, letting them slide wetly down Shadow’s chest before they splattered on the ground near his knee. He tilted his head back, breathing slowly through his nose. He felt like he’d slipped on an old suit that had been in the back of his closet. It didn’t fit quite as well as it once had, but it was familiar.
He tilted his head when he felt Pete’s fingers snake up the front of his throat. He slid his eyes open and groaned at the look he saw on Pete’s face. That naked, burning darkness screaming to rise up and explode out.
Their lips crashed together, Pete’s fingers clawing desperately through Vegas’s hair, his cock throbbing and painfully hard after watching Vegas work on Shadow. Their moans joined the chorus of Shadow’s whimpered screams. Vegas’s lips trailed down Pete’s throat, and he tilted his head towards Shadow when the prisoner jangled his restraints, trying desperately and stupidly to escape.
Pete’s fingers subconsciously traced the pattern of Vegas’s wounds under his shirt. He wouldn’t let anyone take Vegas from him. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not Shadow. Not Korn. Not anyone . He reluctantly pulled away from Vegas and went back to the metal tray. Shadow needed to bleed more. He needed to see Vegas painted in gore. He needed to feel the hot slipperiness under his fingers as he touched Vegas’s skin.
His hands shook with desire as he just wheeled the whole thing over to Shadow. He nearly tripped over his own feet with the feeling of something in him clawing, straining just under his skin. He picked up the mallet and awl again, and placed the tip in the second spot. He knew this constellation perfectly. He didn’t have to guess. He’d used it as braille in the middle of the night. He’d stared at them, nearly choked with the memory of when they’d first appeared.
He viciously slammed the mallet down on the awl’s head, pushing it into Shadow’s lung. “Two,” he whispered, having to rock the awl to get it out. He then went to the third spot, hearing the bullets whizzing past him, hearing his own blood rushing in his ears as Vegas stumbled before him. “Three,” he hissed as he marked Shadow again. He then created the last wound, feeling Vegas’s blood wetting his pants as he kneeled beside his dying love. “Four!” he screamed in Shadow’s face.
“Pete,” Vegas whispered, grabbing him from behind. “I’m here, Pete. I’m here.” His lips and tongue trailed up the back of Pete’s neck, which was dewed with sweat.
“I won’t let anyone else kill you,” Pete moaned, throwing his head back as he felt Vegas’s erection pressed against his ass. “You’re mine,” he said as their tongues found each other. “You’re mine. You’re mine, Vegas. Mine .”
Vegas moaned incoherently, his hips rolling against Pete’s ass to give friction to his aching cock. He bunched the fabric of Pete’s old shirt in his fist so hard that he heard the fabric tear. “Yours,” Vegas agreed. “I’m yours. You’re mine. There’s nobody else in the world, sunshine. Nobody else in the fucking world.”
Shadow thrashed against his restraints, crying tears and blood, whimpering out noises that no longer sounded human. He looked up with his now lone eye. Looked at Vegas. Pete reached across to the tray and picked up the scalpel again. He would teach this fucker to ever turn his face towards Vegas again.
“Vegas, can you hold his head steady?” Pete asked, trailing kisses across his lover’s sweaty temple. “I have an idea.”
Vegas had to use Pete’s body to keep himself upright at the tone in the other man’s voice. All his blood rushed down to his cock and he felt lightheaded. “Anything for you.”
“You fucking degenerates,” Shadow breathed out. “Psycho pieces of shit.”
Vegas laughed, quickly grabbing a filet knife from the table and slashing across Shadow’s belly, deep enough to tear through the muscle wall. Blood burped forth, rolling down around Shadow’s knees, and Vegas and Pete’s feet. “Of course we are,” he said, slapping the side of Shadow’s face a couple times with the bloody, flat side of the knife.
Pete walked around the back of Shadow, careful to not slip in the blood. The sight of all the red on the floor, and it now splattered across Vegas’s chest, made that something inside him grow even bigger, clawing at Pete’s skin to escape. “Tilt his face back.”
Vegas grinned. Shadow was hyperventilating now. With each desperate, gasping breath, his intestines started to peek out from the smiling slash across his lower belly. It wouldn’t be long before they started to spill out on the floor. Vegas looked across Shadow’s body at his beloved Pete. How would he ever be able to do this alone again, when he now knew the dark gleam of Pete’s eyes when they were together like this? “I love you so much,” Vegas ground out, the words cutting his throat with the sheer force of them, the weight.
Pete looked up from where he’d been considering Shadow’s face with the scalpel, almost like a maestro or a painter. That darkness in his eyes turned into love. It wasn’t that the darkness vanished, but they bled together, a dark, bottomless well that was only full of Vegas, of their love. “Only you,” Pete said, voice thick with emotion. “Only you. Forever.”
He then looked down and used the scalpel to trace an outline of Shadow’s face. When he reached Shadow’s jaw, the scalpel nicked a vein and it spurted across Vegas’s face. Pete moaned loudly at the sight of it, having to pause his hand so he wouldn’t mess up the cut. He nearly came just from that alone. He breathed heavily through clenched teeth, returning his focus to the task at hand. Shadow had passed out, so it made the cutting easier. He put the flat of the scalpel under the skin of Shadow’s cheek to create a flap where he could start cutting deeper.
Vegas chuckled darkly, leaning across Shadow’s mutilated face to messily kiss Pete. Shadow’s blood smeared across their lips. “I think we watched The Silence Of The Lambs too many times.”
“You disapprove?”
“You’re so sexy,” Vegas ground out. Pete looked sinful and vampiric with his teeth so white flashing against the smeared red around his mouth.
“Get those smelling salts,” Pete gestured to the tray with his chin. He slowly moved the bloody scalpel under the skin to sever muscle from the back of the skin. “I want him to be awake for this.”
“You little monster,” Vegas said with complete and utter reverence. His blood drenched hands grabbed the smelling salts and waved them under Shadow’s nose. He felt a coil of intestines slip out of the wound and slide down his inner calf.
Shadow gasped and woke up to crystallized agony. His one remaining eye hazily saw Pete looking down at him. He swore that he must have actually died and he was in hell, and seeing Pete and Vegas’s true forms. Pete looked like a vampiric demon as he grinned down. “I don’t need to know who hired you. I don’t need to know how much money you were going to get,” he said slowly, sensually. “I was never going to question you. It was never about answers.”
Shadow groaned in something beyond pain as he felt something tearing around his nose. Something was under his skin. What was happening?!
“It was only ever about showing that you would suffer for daring to even try to hurt my husband.” He dug his fingers under the flaps he’d created in Shadow’s forehead and pulled. He whimpered as he felt Vegas’s fingers join his in the wet, humid layer between skin and muscle. Their fingertips brushed together in heavenly love as they together delivered hellish pain. The tearing of skin off muscle seemed so much louder than Shadow’s desperate keens. Pete screamed as they pulled Shadow’s face off in one piece. He screamed in anger, in unresolved agony, in ecstasy. The echoing of gunshots by that pool that had constant, distant real estate in the back of Pete’s mind seemed to finally quiet.
The scalpel and the flayed face fell to the ground as Vegas and Pete collided together, tearing at each other’s clothes, their mouths clashing together in something desperate and primal that may have resembled a kiss. In their fervor to touch every inch of each other, they slammed into Shadow’s body. The jostling caused the stomach wound to rip open further, coils of intestines spilling down over Shadow’s crotch and legs, looping in the floor among the sticky, ever growing pool of dark red.
“Vegas,” Pete groaned, ripping at Vegas’s shirt. The sound echoed the ripping sound of Shadow’s flesh. They bit at each other’s lips, tasting Shadow’s blood, now mingled with their own. They slipped in the pool of slick blood and slimy coils of intestines. They stumbled to their knees, still tangled together. Pete caught himself with his hands, his palms sliding through the hot blood. He moaned into Vegas’s mouth, the something in him yearning towards Vegas. He was surprised that his skin wasn’t roiling with it, that claws and teeth and rage and lust weren’t ripping out of him and flaying his skin.
“Vegas!” he wailed as his clothes were torn and stripped off his body, Vegas’s hot, wet hands trailing over his flesh, marking their passage in cruel gore. Drool and blood dripped down his chin as he cupped Vegas’s face, leaving bright red handprints on the sides of his neck. “Fuck me,” Pete demanded. “Fuck me.”
“But you wanted to fuck me so bad earlier,” Vegas crooned, nipping at Pete’s throat. He then bit Pete’s shoulder so hard that he drew blood and Pete screamed in harmony with the weakening screams of their dying prey.
“I need you inside me,” Pete begged. He groaned as he finally got Vegas’s pants off so now they were both naked. The moan that ripped out of him when he looked at Vegas’s cock was primal and animalistic. There was so much blood now that they slipped and wound up prone and tangled on the floor. Pete felt the burning hot sliminess of the intestines curled under his arm. He blinked blood out of his eyes and attacked Vegas again with his hands and his mouth.
Vegas smoothed Pete’s now blood soaked hair off his face. He truly looked like a succubus crawling out of hell, his face nearly completely red, his body shining red with gore, his eyes burning with lust. Vegas would have murdered the entire world to see this image again and again. He spit on his fingers, which were already slick with blood, and pressed one into Pete, who keened and arched, looking like a beautiful, bloodsoaked angel. He was divinity draped in death. Vegas inserted a second finger and scissored, stroking over Pete’s prostate. It was easy to prep him after yesterday, and Pete was so fucking eager .
“You called me your husband earlier,” Vegas whispered into Pete’s ear as he pulled Pete down into his lap. The word had been rattling in the back of Vegas’s head ever since it fell from Pete’s pretty, gore-soaked lips.
“Because you are,” Pete groaned, head thrown back, hips rolling and muscles clenching around Vegas’s fingers. Pete growled, gripping Vegas’s shoulders so hard he knew that there would be bruises. “I don’t care if we don’t have some fucking piece of paper or wedding or whatever. You are my husband, and I’m your husband. We’re the only people who matter,” Pete panted. “Ve–ga–s,” he stuttered as Vegas milked his prostate. His lips quivered. He was so close…
Vegas grinned, pulling his fingers out of Pete. He was fluent in the language of Pete’s body, and knew that he’d been about to come, and he couldn’t have that. Not yet.
The darkness in Pete’s eyes clawed closer to the surface as he whined in frustration. He gripped Vegas’s shoulders and pushed him back, blood squelching under his shoulders. Pete’s fingers tangled with small intestine as he held Vegas down, sliding his hips down until the head of Vegas’s cock pushed into him. He arched back, nearly bent completely backwards as Vegas’s cock slid fully into him.
Vegas moaned at the wet heat of Pete from within, his fingers smearing up to grip Pete’s perfect waist. He would never get enough of watching Pete in the throes of pleasure. Pete’s knees and Vegas’s back squeaked across the bloody floor with the force of Pete’s thrusts as he rode Vegas. Vegas reached up and stroked across Pete’s scrotum, then up the underside of his drooling cock, marking his passage with a red stripe. He wanted to fill Pete to the brim with his come, but dug into his well of patience that he seemed to only have when it came to sex, and marveled at the perfection of the man above him, waiting for that certain hitch in his voice. He moved his hands to Pete’s straining thighs, squeezing them none-too-gently, wanting to feel that shudder that would tell him Pete was close to orgasm.
When he felt it, he rolled them over forcefully, pulling out of Pete with a quick, wet pop. He only distantly felt Shadow bang against his hip a couple times as they slammed into him. Hot blood splashed across the small of his back and his ass cheek. Pete whined in the prettiest, most sinful way possible, his fingers scrabbling and sliding up Vegas’s bloody and sweaty chest, trying to grab him to connect them again.
“Fuck, Vegas!” shouted Pete, rocking his hips and mewling. The pressure of denied orgasm pressed against his breastbone, fighting with that dark thing within him, both trying to rip Pete apart at the seams to escape. “Fuck me, you asshole!”
“That’s not a nice way to ask,” Vegas purred, tracing patterns in the blood on Pete’s shins, not going anywhere near his now painfully throbbing cock and balls.
Pete groaned, back arching and head thrashing to the side. His wet, matted hair stuck to his cheek. “Please,” Pete begged, changing tact. “Please Vegas. I need you inside me so fucking bad. I need you to come in me,” he whispered. “I love you so much, baby. I love you,” he repeated over and over, voice quavering and quiet. His muscles went pliant and loose, legs spread wide, presenting his gaping hole to his lover. “I love you.”
When Vegas groaned, Pete smiled viciously and lightning-quick wrapped his thighs around Vegas’s waist, driving his hips up to penetrate himself. He laughed as Vegas bowed over and bit his left nipple hard as punishment. “You cheat.”
Pete laughed and forced Vegas’s face up so they stared into each other’s eyes with a scorching intensity. “Let me come,” he commanded.
“I think you forgot who you’re talking to, you filthy little slut,” Vegas hissed, his vision going dim with desire when Pete laughed again, his teeth so white compared to the dark red that now completely coated his face. He began to thrust into his lover, his husband at a punishing pace, the blood squelching and spurting beneath them, seeping into their skin. Into their very essence.
“Yes… Vegas… yes…” Pete moaned. “I’m such a slut. I need you to come in me. Come in me.” He torqued his hips so Vegas hit his prostate with each thrust at just the perfect angle. He screamed with each brutal thrust, feeling his orgasm nearing. He distantly thought that he should hide his tells so Vegas would finally let him come. So close. So close .
But Vegas knew his body too well and pulled out again, leaving him empty and half-insane with need. He let out a strangled cry, whimpering as Vegas spread his legs wide and pinned his thighs to the ground so he couldn’t try the same trick twice. “Are you going to be a good boy?” Vegas asked, grinding Pete’s thighs and hips down into the ground, fingers digging in so hard he knew there would be livid bruises tomorrow.
Pete was moaning and speaking, but it was just a garbled mess of nonsense. He tried to reach up to grab Vegas, but couldn’t reach. Vegas pressed him down even harder, and his hands skittered across the floor. “I’ll be good,” he finally strangled out. “I promise. I’ll be so good for you,” he begged in earnest. “I need you. Please use me, Vegas.” His dick ached , in that perfect wavelength of pleasure and pain that blotted out everything except for Vegas and what he did to Pete’s body.
Vegas slowly pressed just the head of his cock back into Pete, then pushed in only just far enough that he knew wouldn’t hit his prostate. Pete tried to buck his hips, to create friction, but Vegas held them both still. His own legs shook with the effort. Edging Pete like this was also slow torture to him. He wanted to come in Pete so fucking badly. He wanted Pete to come all over his own chest and then lick it off with an urgency that burned his throat and eyes. He stayed perfectly still, watching Pete’s face with rapt adoration. He watched the tears trickle from Pete’s eyes, down his temple, mixing with the blood all over his face, studying them as if he were going to have a life-and-death exam on it later. His own name fell from Pete’s lips in a way that broke him and reformed him. In a way that damned him and saved him.
He strained to keep his hips perfectly still, and to keep Pete pinned akimbo on the floor, as he bent forward to kiss that perfect mouth. His back bowed in supplication to Pete, the kiss an act of worship to his angel, his demon, the day to his night, the perfect other half of him. His soul overflowed with love as his tears splashed down on Pete’s cheek, mingling together with Pete’s own among the gore they’d created together.
“Vegas,” Pete moaned as their tongues lavishly brushed together, as they tasted every crook of each other’s mouth, the blood tasting hot and metallic. Pete cried into his lover’s mouth when Vegas pulled out again , the fucking bastard. But then Vegas thrust into him all the way to the hilt in one vicious thrust. One hand moved up and cupped Pete’s neck as he pulled out completely and did it again, filling Pete so utterly and brutally and perfectly.
He reached up and wrapped his arms around Vegas’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Pete’s heart raced and he hoped that Vegas could feel it. He clenched his rectal muscles down hard when Vegas tried to pull out again, and was rewarded with a beautiful, strangled groan that vibrated against his mouth. He felt Vegas’s muscles shaking, loving the strain and desire that he knew he caused in the other man.
Vegas moaned Pete’s name over and over, not wanting to play this game anymore. He thrust into Pete at a rapid pace that made his already tired and strung-out muscles burn. He could have reached between them and wrapped his hand around Pete’s erection, but he still wanted to hear those desperate moans for just a little longer. He changed the angle of his thrusts to slam into Pete’s prostate again and again and again. He kept kissing Pete, wanting to swallow the moans he made.
Pete lost the ability to kiss Vegas back as he felt an orgasm building in him again like a tsunami. He just left his mouth open against Vegas’s, trying to say his lover’s name over and over, but even failing in that. He could only moan incoherently, wordlessly begging Vegas to finally let him complete his pleasure. When the orgasm finally crashed over him, his body seemed to seize and then explode. The something that had been roaring in him all night burst through his body, setting every nerve alight. Pete felt immolated from within, his eyes rolled full back in his head, his throat making noises he didn’t know he’d been capable of making. His semen splattered up his and Vegas’s chests, mixing together with the blood. He wept as Vegas thrust harder, milking his orgasm until Vegas’s back stiffened under Pete’s arms and he came deep within Pete’s ass.
“You’re my everything, Pete. I love you so much. So goddamn much,” he whispered in English, rolling his hips to make sure he drained every drop of come from himself and left it inside Pete. He felt boneless and collapsed on top of Pete, crushing him against the floor. The blood was becoming sticky and tacky around them, congealing and creating a heady, metallic humidity that fed off the heat and sweat built from their bodies.
Both men continued to moan into each other’s mouths as they came down from their highs, their nerves too raw and too jangled and too alive. So fucking alive. When their brains could finally make commands to their bodies, they pulled apart enough to look in each other’s eyes. Both saw a gaze that was so bright and blissed-out with love and afterglow. Their fingers reached up and touched each other in reverence and wonder. They would never tire of looking at each other like this.
Pete smiled tiredly, hugging Vegas’s chest to his. He felt the other man’s heart beating in tandem with his own. He felt love. He felt loved . He also felt light. Lighter than he had in a long time. He felt that he’d been doing something that he hated doing - letting feelings fester. He’d been letting his memories of Vegas getting shot burrow deep into him. He’d been living with the constant, underground fear of losing Vegas. But he was here. He was warm. He was panting above Pete, eyes wet with tears looking down at him with such love that it almost set Pete on fire. He was alive. Vegas was the most alive thing that Pete had ever come across.
He didn’t know how long they lay there like that, but it was long enough that the blood all over them started to cool and dry. Pete moved his arms from around Vegas’s muscular shoulders, feeling weary and happy. He let out a weak and disbelieving laugh when intestines flopped to the ground from around his wrists. He must have tangled his arm in them at some point, and they had flopped across Vegas’s back while they fucked. “Shit… we made a mess.”
Vegas sighed, his laugh sounding just as tired as Pete’s did. “Yeah, and we still have to clean it all up.”
Pete groaned, not sure if he would ever have any energy again. Vegas pulled out of him and he whimpered. He hated it whenever Vegas pulled out of him. He felt so empty and incomplete. He slowly sat up, but didn’t stand yet because his legs still felt like marshmallows. He jerked in surprise when he saw Shadow over Vegas’s shoulder. He’d honestly forgotten about him. It caused him to laugh out loud.
“What?” Vegas asked, tilting Pete’s face back to look down at him, smiling gently at the sunshine that radiated from Pete whenever he laughed. He wiped his thumb across Pete’s cheek to clear some of the blood away so he could see Pete’s dimple.
“I forgot about that motherfucker. We’re literally covered in his blood and I forgot about him.”
Vegas looked over his shoulder and snorted. Their prisoner had died at some point while they’d been fucking. With his face missing, his one remaining eye looked bulged and shocked, as if horrified by what Pete and Vegas had made him watch, his teeth exposed in a ghoulish grimace. Vegas couldn’t help but start laughing at the sheer fucking insanity of it all. “First it was that giant dildo, now this.”
Pete laughed harder, slowly rising to his knees, testing his leg muscles. He stood with Vegas’s help, and they clung together as they laughed. He pushed Vegas’s soaked hair off his face, admiring the stunning angles of his sharp face. With the blood on them, his cheekbones looked as sharp as knives. “Do you know how sexy you are?” Pete asked in English, remembering when Vegas asked him that same question once.
Vegas captured Pete’s mouth in a passionate kiss, desire washing through him again. Pete kissed him back with equal passion, throwing all his love behind it. He shivered in the embrace, the blood cooling enough to now be uncomfortable.
“Aren’t you glad that I thought far enough ahead to choose a place with running water?” Vegas asked, rubbing his hands up and down Pete’s back, gesturing around the showers of the old locker room. He’d used this old, forgotten high school before for torture sessions, but none had been this enjoyable. He separated from Pete, lacing their fingers together briefly before he went to release Shadow from the restraints that held his corpse up.
“Once we get rid of him and clean ourselves up, I’m going to eat you out until you’re crying,” Pete growled hungrily, reaching out and roughly squeezing Vegas’s spectacular ass. “And then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”
Vegas chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he released the restraints and Shadow fell to the ground like a sack of rice. “Is that a promise, my little monster?”
Pete hummed, liking the nickname. His finger slipped between Vegas’s ass cheeks and briefly teased his entrance. “Anything for my husband.”
Vegas rolled his head back against Pete’s shoulder, sighing happily. “Stop provoking me like that, sunshine. We need to focus here.”
“I’m not provoking,” said Pete as he started to position the corpse so they could dismantle it for easier disposal. “Proper motivation will help us move faster,” he pointed out. He grimaced as he tried to tuck the intestines back in the stomach cavity. “Though, when we eat later, maybe we can do vegetarian…?”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Tomb bobbed her head in time with the song that was rattling around in her brain as she rode the elevator up to Khun Korn’s floor. It was the theme song from one of Khun Noo’s dramas. The damn song had been stuck there for three days now. She was still working her way up to regular duty after falling ill, and had been assigned to the main house until she didn’t quite feel like she was going to either puke or shit her pants at least twice a day. The doctor (who was of course in the Main Family’s pocket) said it was food poisoning, but she had a feeling it had been something else. Though there was nothing concrete, she’d heard rumblings that Khun Porsche had sent contractors over to the former Minor Family’s new house, tucked in a private area far outside Bangkok that seemed to shout ‘fuck off and leave us alone’. She’d have to check to see if there were any differences next time she brought Porschay there to visit Macau.
The tall, broad-faced woman also knew that the person who’d taken her duty to look after Chay seemed to have left the Theerapanyakun family’s services. Tomb took her job as Porschay’s handler very seriously, and cared about the boy. It was hard not to, so she’d wanted to check that everything was okay.
But she didn’t vocalize any of these doubts. Bodyguards were often just background decoration, and they heard things. Especially a female bodyguard. The family had so few of them that Tomb was considered a novelty, an amusement. It meant that people talked around her. As someone who spent more time with the Minor Family than the Main Family, she knew about the friction there, the suspicions. And though she’d only been hired recently to fill in the gaps left after the Main and Minor family’s civil war, she already knew where her loyalties lay. And they weren’t with the man she was running an errand for.
Tomb walked up to the balcony where Khun Korn sat in front of his usual chess board. The Theerapanyakun head’s personal bodyguard, Blue, gave Tomb a once over and then nodded. The way his eyes lingered on her chest made her rankle and want to show Blue why exactly Porsche had eagerly hired her after seeing a demonstration of her fighting skills.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” Tomb murmured, bowing in reverence. “There was a courier delivery for you just now.”
Korn looked up from the chess board, cocking his head. He didn’t remember ordering anything. It was a thin, square box wrapped in gold embossed paper. It caught the sunlight in a stunning way. He frowned.
“We ran it through the metal detector,” Tomb assured, handing Korn the box. “No pings. Arm also checked for explosives. He said he recognized the handwriting on the card as Pete Saengtham’s, Khun Korn.”
“Oh?” Korn took the package. He ran his fingers across the lovely paper, fingering the obviously expensive cream ribbon. The little card was in a cream envelope that smelled lightly and pleasantly of vanilla. The packaging seemed to suit the former head of his bodyguards. “Thank you, Tomb. How are you feeling?”
“Getting much better, Khun Korn. I should be ready to get back to my post by the end of the week.”
Korn gave a small smile. “Good. Young Porschay will be glad to have you back.” He lifted his chin towards the door in a silent dismissal.
Tomb nodded and gave a deep wai, and one to Blue as well. As she left, she wondered why Pete would sent Korn a present. She’d never heard him mention Korn before, but she knew Vegas and Macau didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of their uncle.
“Whatever,” she muttered to herself as she went through the elevator doors again, pressing the ground floor so she could go on a smoke break. In this kind of job, it was better not to ask too many questions.
Korn opened the envelope, breathing in the pleasant smell on the paper. There was a small cardstock message inside with Pete’s neat script. When I saw this I immediately thought of you, Khun Korn.
Intrigued, Korn gently tugged the ribbon loose and lifted up the lid of the box. The paper inside also seemed to have been scented with the gentle vanilla aroma, but a muscle around Korn’s eye twitched as he scented something else underneath it. Something sweet but not pleasant. The kind of smell that one didn’t forget once they smelled it. He didn’t let any further reaction show on his face as he oh-so-subtely angled the box so that Blue couldn’t see what was inside when he pushed back the tissue paper.
Korn wanted to call it a mask at first. His brain found it hard to process staring down at a human face that wasn’t attached to the rest of the head. It looked unnatural, like a costume someone would wear in the West for Halloween. He couldn’t help but smirk at the ballsiness of the move. His eldest son constantly bemoaned that Pete must have been coerced into leaving with Vegas, but maybe Pete and his eldest nephew were more suited than anyone had realized.
He put the lid back on the box and set it gently beside his chair. “I believe that it’s your move, Blue.”
The bodyguard sat down and considered the board. “Did you like your gift, Khun?”
Korn smiled. “Oh, it was very surprising.”
End.
PSA - Don’t use someone else’s blood as lube. Or do? Whatever. I’m not the boss of you.