Murder My Heart

by Scarlet_Fever

Summary:

Korn kinda had this coming, NGL. VegasPete being horny murderhusband gremlins again (they don't know another way to live). Featuring Macau/Chay being smutty and Kinn/Porsche being angsty.

Notes:

So, the end of the main trilogy is here! It's not the end of the series, though. I allow Kinn and Porsche to act like a couple ONCE and they end up being angsty crybabies. Since this is essentially the end of the 'lore' parts of this series, it's the longest one so far - a monster finale for our monster couple.

I hadn't intended to post it for VegasPete Week but it worked out that way. Posting it for the Gore/Violence Tag, but really... it can fit under a lot of the tags.

The title is from the song title Murder My Heart by KMFDM

Pete sighed, sore muscles feeling loose and relaxed after a hot bath.  He’d been ecstatic when Cello had returned in the morning with supplies, including epsom salts.  She’d unfortunately had little news about Macau, though.  He vigorously dried his hair, padding through the silent kitchen.  Helping Vegas and Cello dump the pieces of Barbeque’s corpse into the lake had aggravated his headache and sore muscles, so he’d retreated to the tub.  He was somewhat disappointed that Vegas hadn’t joined him.

He tried to tamp down the sudden panic at not seeing Vegas anywhere in the house.  It was crazily co-dependent and stupid, really, that he couldn’t even go thirty minutes without seeing Vegas without intrusive thoughts floating up to the surface of his brain.  He tried to convince himself that it was foolish, that Vegas was fine, that Vegas didn’t immediately get killed when Cello went back to the city to do some recon, a hopeful letter in her back pocket.  His breathing calmed, but that deep tension didn’t quite vanish until he saw the other man sitting out on the deck, reading.

Vegas appeared to be staring out at the water, lost in his own thoughts.  That wasn’t always the safest place for Vegas to be, but he didn’t seem upset. His body language was calm, hand relaxed in his lap on top of an open book.  As Pete admired him, for the first time he was a little mad that Vegas had fucked him so thorougly, so gloriously and brutally.  His asshole was still sore with the memory of Vegas’s cock, and he knew he really should let himself rest for a few days.  But, with Vegas sitting in the sun, looking so peaceful and gorgeous, Pete wanted nothing more to have Vegas inside him again.  Would they ever stop desiring each other with such a violent, urgent need?  Pete hoped not.

He dropped his towel on the floor and quietly made his way out to the deck.  Vegas was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Pete until he was literally crawling on top of him, kissing a trail up his throat.

“Mmm?” Vegas murmured in pleasant surprise.  He then furrowed his brow.  “You’re naked.”

“I am?” Pete slid his hands up Vegas’s shirt, breathing in the sun-drenched scent of his skin.  “I didn’t notice,” he deadpanned.

“Someone might see you.”

“Like who…?  The birds?  The fish?  The corpse in the lake?”

“I don’t want anyone else seeing you naked,” Vegas murmured, even as his eyes slid shut.  He ran his hand through Pete’s damp hair, groaning quietly as Pete gently nipped his earlobe.

Pete ground his hips down, purring at Vegas’s possessiveness.  His cock gave an appreciative jerk.  “If anyone comes along, we’ll just have to put them in the lake too.”  Pete took the book out of Vegas’s lap, some anatomy textbook, and dropped it beside the chaise lounge as he slid himself down Vegas’s legs.  “After they watch us fuck, that is.”

“Are you hoping someone will come around…?” Vegas asked.  He arched his hips up as Pete pulled Vegas’s shirt off, and then ran his chin over the growing bulge in his pants.  He chuckled.  “Never change, my little monster.”

Pete had planned to slowly pull down Vegas’s sweatpants and tease him, but that nickname inflamed him, so he yanked Vegas’s pants and briefs down and immediately took the head of his cock into his mouth.  He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him around Vegas’s hardening penis.  He just loved the feeling of it in his mouth too much. The way it twitched and jerked, the way the veins felt against his tongue, the heavenly bitter taste of his precome as Pete’s tongue played with the slit.

Vegas’s head slid back and his body melted down further into the chaise lounge, reaching down to run his hands through Pete’s hair.  His other hand covered Pete’s on his hip, twining their fingers together.  He gasped as Pete’s throat worked its magic around him.  It gave him a vicious pleasure that the rest of the world was deprived of the feeling of Pete giving them head.  He was so fucking good at fellatio that it was criminal.  And that mouth belonged to Vegas.  Just like every part of Pete belonged to Vegas, and every part of Vegas belonged to Pete.

Vegas moaned, arching his hips up against the blissful warmth of Pete’s mouth and fist, which worked in delicious tandem.  Vegas hazily opened his eyes to look down at his Pete, moaning again at the dark, satisfied glitter in his eyes.  The sight of Pete’s pretty mouth wrapped around his cock made Vegas’s inside twist and turn and burn.  His mouth watered with desire.  He grabbed the sides of Pete’s neck and pulled him off.

“Turn around,” Vegas demanded, grinning as the momentary confused offense on Pete’s face turned into an impish grin.  Pete knew immediately what Vegas wanted, and bonelessly rose to his feet.  “Fuck,” Vegas cursed, eyes drinking in the curve of Pete’s waist, the long and lithe lines of his thighs.  And of course, that perfect, leaking, delicious cock.

Vegas slid down the chaise lounge, Pete turning around and straddling him, sliding his hips up.  Vegas bit into one of his sinfully pert ass cheeks, and then wrapped his tongue around the tip of Pete’s erection as Pete fully throated his cock again.  He muffled his own strangled moan by taking all of Pete’s cock into his mouth, relaxing his throat to avoid his gag reflex.

It was easy to lose himself when he and Pete gave each other oral sex like this, no matter how many times they did it, which was more than he could count.  Most of the time, he maintained his concentration, but sometimes the glorious and intimate feeling of Pete’s mouth on him was enough to float away, just allowing Pete to fuck his face while he drifted in the pleasure.  He’d never gone anywhere near subspace with anyone before Pete.  He’d never trusted anyone enough to let himself go like that.  Trust had been beaten down in him, buried in lead to wither and die, replaced by a desire to crush and destroy and hurt, to salt the earth of trust so it would never grow again.  But Pete had come along and cracked open that tomb inside him, yanking out those things his father had tried to kill, using surgically sharp words and endless love.

But Vegas didn’t want that today.  Today he wanted to focus on Pete’s moans.  His sounds of pleasure, the way it thrummed through his body, the way it pulsed through him.  Hot and alive.  He slid his tongue up the underside of Pete’s erection, then moved his mouth off to concentration on his balls.  He sucked one into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue.  He then did the same to the other, and then moved to his goal.  He licked a honey slow circle around Pete’s entrance, still puffy from the other night, and this morning when Vegas had woken up still inside him.  They’d both been so exhausted that they hadn’t moved in their sleep like normal.

Pete gasped and moaned, the vibrations around Vegas’s cock causing him to hiss against Pete’s hole.  He continued to kiss and lick Pete’s asshole, his favorite thing to do in the whole world.  He freely admitted to having an ass fetish, but who could blame him for constantly wanting his mouth and cock in Pete when his asshole was so heavenly and sinful?  And the noises he made when Vegas ministered to that perfect hole were equally as heavenly and sinful, shooting through Vegas’s bloodstream with more power than even the strongest drugs.

Pete had to pull his mouth off Vegas’s cock and rest his forehead against his love’s inner thigh as Vegas’s tongue expertly began to unravel him.  Pete took great pride in his fellatio skills, but had to admit that Vegas was nearly as good as he was.  Pete felt a stir of competitive fire in his belly.  He knew what Vegas was doing, but two could play at that game.  He breathed his way down Vegas’s length, wet with his own saliva, then gently ran his chin over Vegas’s scrotum before kissing, licking, and nibbling a line across the flesh where Vegas’s thigh and ass cheek met.  He grinned as Vegas stuttered a moan against him, knowing Vegas was sensitive there.

“You brat,” Vegas hissed, circling his tongue into Pete’s entrance in the way he knew would cause Pete to have to fight coming right then and there.  He felt victorious when Pete’s fingers curled against his hips, thighs trembling with the effort not to ejaculate.  He was rewarded with Pete deep-throating him so skillfully that he now had to fight against his own body to avoid coming.  He returned his mouth to Pete’s cock as they thoroughly began fucking each other with their mouths, trying to make each other come with competitive fervor fuelled by unquenchable desire.

Vegas began to massage Pete’s asshole with his thumb, mirroring the slow circles his tongue now made around the leaking head of Pete’s erection.  Pete was now moaning fully around his cock, his muscles tightening.  Vegas pulled off long enough to say “don’t swallow” before sucking Pete’s dick again.

Pete’s stretched lips formed a grin as he bobbed his head at a rapid pace, his tongue using every trick to make Vegas come.  He didn’t care now about lasting - he just wanted Vegas’s semen in his mouth, and he wanted to fill Vegas’s mouth with his own come.  He groaned when Vegas’s thumb slipped into his asshole, and he lightly pinched Vegas’s flank to signal him before he fell over the edge of pleasure and came into the other man’s mouth.  The almost unhealthily competitive side of him was mad at himself for coming first, but Vegas wasn’t far behind with his own signal before Pete’s mouth was filled with the hot explosion of Vegas’s semen.

Pete had to resist the urge to instantly swallow the come as he always did.  He gave a closed mouth groan and briefly rested his cheek against Vegas’s fluttering belly before turning around and crawling up Vegas’s body rapidly.  They both moaned when they opened their mouths against each other in a sloppy kiss, tongues tangling as their semen mingled between their mouths.

Vegas wrapped his arms around Pete and tightly pressed them together as they snowballed, groaning as Pete whimpered in pleasure.  Their semen-coated tongues stroked against each other, nothing having ever tasted better to either man when they swallowed their mixed ejaculate.  The kiss turned less sloppy and wet and more languid and loving.  Pete licked at Vegas’s lips to catch some of the dribbled come that had escaped down his chin, and Vegas did the same to Pete.

“I love you,” Vegas whispered when they broke apart.  Pete curled up against Vegas’s side, resting his head just under Vegas’s chin.  Vegas kissed the top of his hair, his heart still pounding with the love that was just too big for his body to handle.

“I love you too,” Pete whispered, fingers gently ghosting up and down over the dark purple bruise on Vegas’s side from the car accident.

They remained in content silence for a while, just enjoying what peaceful moments they could before their ugly reality set in.  After a while, Pete lifted his head and looked up at Vegas, biting his lip in almost pain as he looked into Vegas’s face.  His eyes were closed and a small smile played across his mouth.  Pete loved him so fucking much.  “What do you want?” he asked.

Vegas opened one eye, cocking an eyebrow.  “Sunshine, give me a few minutes to calm down before we go again.”

Pete smiled softly.  “No.  I didn’t mean that way.  What do you want , Vegas?  When you think of your life five years from now, what do you see?”

“You.”

“I mean it, Vegas.”

“So do I, sunshine.” He frowned and looked at Pete fully.  “What are you getting at?”

“We can’t stay here forever, baby.  We’re not safe.  We don’t have Macau.”

“You’re talking about killing Korn.”

“Not just that.” Pete rested his chin on Vegas’s sternum.  “What do you want out of life, Vegas Theerapanyakun?”

“You,” he answered again.

“Come on, Vegas.” Pete rolled his eyes in annoyance.  “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” Vegas sighed.  “I guess I wanted to do what my dad wanted to do.  I wanted his approval.  I wanted him to love me.” He said, frowning.  “Actually, I just wanted someone to love me.  I wanted someone to see me, to care about me as a person, and not just as Gun’s son, the heir to the Minor Family.  I wanted someone to see me for more than just some murderous thug.  I wanted someone to smile at me and know that it was just because I was there. I never had that with Papa.  I wanted it from him so badly that I would do anything he asked of me.  I’d kill and fuck and manipulate at his command just so he’d look at me with admiration.  I wanted what he wanted because it would make him see me.  I thought it was just him that I wanted it from, but I just wanted it, Pete.  I wanted to matter to someone.”

Pete pursed his lips, sitting up.  He looked into the beautiful face that was so dear and precious to him, and he was filled with such a deep well of sadness for Vegas.  He kissed across the beloved planes of Vegas’s face, coating him in loving kisses, stamping each centimeter of Vegas’s skin with his love.  “You had Macau.”

Vegas gave a snort that was less derisive and more agonizingly sad and lonely.  “We both were chasing approval and love that we would never get.  We loved each other, but had to worry about ourselves.  I was beaten and Macau was isolated, and I think both of us thought that there was only enough approval in Papa’s body for one of us.  I probably wanted it more than he did, though.”

“Vegas…” Pete trailed off, stroking his fingers across his shoulders.  “Shit, Vegas.  I’m so fucking proud of you.”  Vegas was about to look away, as he still sometimes tried to do when feelings got too real, but Pete palmed the sides of his face, forcing their gazes to hold.  “I am.  When Gun was still alive, you never would have been able to verbalize your feelings like that without wanting to destroy yourself in one way or another.”

“It’s because of you,” Vegas whispered.

“It’s because of you, too.  When my dad was still alive, I never stood up to him.  I always fought harder just so I could maybe see a flicker of pride or love in his face.  But it never came.”

“Because he hated himself for his failures and took it out on you,” Vegas murmured quietly, tucking a lock of Pete’s hair behind his ear, remembering their conversation in this very safe house.  That conversation was the moment, if Vegas could pinpoint it, that Pete had begun to rip Vegas open, and had begun to fill the cracks of his broken persona with gold like Japanese kintsukuroi pottery.  Vegas would never be what he’d been before, but he’d be whole, and more beautiful for it.

“Yes.  I may have finally stood up to him when I pushed him down the stairs, but that didn’t solve everything instantly.  It just made his approval something that I could always chase, but never catch.  Like a ghost.  My grandmother was there to help me, to show me what love actually was, but I still had to exorcize those ghosts myself.  She couldn’t do it for me.  She could only stand by my side and add to my own strength.”  He smiled, dimple flashing.  “I’m here to stand by your side.  So is Macau.  You’re the only father that matters to him, Vegas.”

Vegas opened his mouth to say something, but was rendered silent under a swell of emotions.

“Whatever happens after Korn, I’ll be by your side.  Do you want the Minor Family back?”

Vegas’s lips quivered and a tear trickled down his cheek, which Pete gently kissed away.  “I… I don’t know, sunshine.  Thinking ahead in the Minor Family just seemed like a way to tempt karma.  There was nothing other than being Papa’s heir, nothing other than beating Kinn.”

“Do you think Kinn’s name is the one that all the rival gangs whisper to themselves in fear?” Pete asked sternly.  “Is it Kinn’s reputation that keeps them in line?  Sure, they try to take pieces, like lamprey following a shark, and sometimes they try to take bigger bites, but it’s not Kinn that makes them swim back to the darkness.  It’s not even Gun.  It’s Vegas.  Vegas is their nightmare.  The Main Family’s above-board shit is safe because of the monster your father created.  The monster that surpassed him.  You’re the Minor Family, Vegas.  Not Gun.  Not Porsche.  You.”

“First you tell me you’re proud of me for becoming more human, then you tell me that I should be proud to be a monster, Pete.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Pete countered, resting his hand over Vegas’s heart.  “If you really don’t want to go back to that, Porsche can keep the Minor Family and we can disappear once we get Macau back.  You still have Triad, Yakuza and Bratva connections.  Maybe not the Italians anymore…”

Vegas shook his head wryly.  “What about you?  I was born into this life, but you chose it.”

Pete shrugged.  “Not really much of a choice.  I was an underground fighter who didn’t have anything to his name.  I got busted for assault and robbery enough times that they were gonna look into my father’s death sooner or later.  Seemed a better alternative than an eventual lethal injection or life sentence.”

“Even if we disappear, sunshine, I don’t think Korn will leave us alone.  And what about Macau and Chay?  I don’t think he’d agree to just vanish now.” Vegas huffed out a humorless laugh, hands resting in the small of Pete’s back as he looked down at the anatomy textbook he’d been reading, thinking back to how his mind had been occupied before Pete had so wonderfully interrupted him.  “Macau would do it if I asked him.  I’m just using that as an excuse, aren’t I?  I knew this would happen since the day Papa decided to storm the Main House.  This is a suicide mission, Pete.  And I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.”

Pete’s brow furrowed.  “You have so little faith in our abilities?”

“Tankhun would take you back in a second.”

Pete glared at Vegas, his sunny mood suddenly gone.  “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me, Vegas.  Don’t you fucking dare act like we aren’t in this together all the way.  You do not get to try to push me away ever again,” he hissed.  “I chose you, Vegas.  Forever.”

“I’m sorry,” Vegas whispered, feeling sick that he’d even considered it.  “You’re right, of course.”

Pete was slightly mollified, but he still stared into Vegas’s eyes intently.  “There are still lots of people loyal to you, Vegas.  Gun was too busy fighting his brother and fucking his mistresses to have their true loyalty.  They followed him as a figurehead, but you are the one they are loyal to.”

“Until I spend all my time fucking my mistress,” Vegas teased, squeezing Pete’s ass. 

Pete nipped at Vegas’s mouth.  “Mistress!?  Oh no, I don’t think so.  My asshole earned that husband title.”  He became serious again.  “Porsche doesn’t even want the Minor Family.  I love him, but he sucks at it.  He’d be the first to admit it, too.”

“He’s not going to go against Kinn, or put Chay and Namphueng in danger.”

“Porsche isn’t as stupid as he seems.”  Pete grinned at the face Vegas gave him.  “Well, not always.  A transfer of power doesn’t have to be an explosion.  Going in guns blazing was your father’s way.  He was a grenade.”  Pete’s grin turned vicious and dark, alighting smoldering sadism in Vegas’s eyes, their monsters rising to the surface to meet.  “And we are a scalpel.”

 

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

Porsche paced around the spacious bedroom, tapping his cell phone against his chin, trying to keep himself calm.

Some time away from the city will be good for your mother’s health, Porsche.  There has been a lot of excitement lately, and I worry that it may set back her health.  The doctors assured that this convalescence would be good for her .

Fury rushed through Porsche as he remembered Korn’s fatherly smile when he’d informed him that Namphueng was no longer in the Main House.  Her ‘convalescence’ was ransom.  It was Korn exerting his will over Porsche.

As he’d stormed to his and Kinn’s room, he’d made a couple of phone calls.  One to order noodles from a shop with a runner known to the Minor Family (and far more loyal to Vegas than to Porsche), and one to Tem to meet up in the park for lunch.  Both completely harmless and innocent on the outside.  Holding Namphueng hostage over Porsche also told him that keeping Macau in either his or Tankhun’s rooms would only protect him for so much longer.

He’d also made a third phone call from a burner flip phone that he kept in a hidden compartment in the wall behind the bedframe after getting a message on an equally burner pager.  He may have sucked ass at this job and just wanted to go back to being a bodyguard for his boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t learned a few tricks…

Porsche gripped a throw pillow and pressed it against his face, screaming.  He wished that he could get Chay out of here, but that would be even more difficult than the messy swirl of plans trying to form themselves in his buzzing head.  He couldn’t even trust any of the guards with his younger brother.  Tomb had been ‘reassigned’ to some warehouse watching gig, and he couldn’t get ahold of her.

The shower turned off from the bathroom, and Porsche tossed the pillow down, taking several deep breaths.  Normally when Kinn was in the shower, Porsche would join him, and they would do so many things other than cleaning, but not today.  Today, Porsche’s insides gnawed at him.  His first thought after leaving his mother’s makeshift prison was wondering if Kinn knew about this, and then he’d hated himself for it.

He loved Kinn so much, but his mind immediately went to mistrust.  There was so much between them that they didn’t talk about.  Too much of believing each other to be on the opposite sides.  Too much concealing and lying.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Kinn greeted cheerfully, smiling widely as he was pleasantly surprised to see his boyfriend, slinging the towel he’d been using to dry his hair across his damp shoulders.  “You should have come in the shower with me.”  He strode across the room, collecting Porsche in a loving hug, giving him a kiss.  He smelled of clove cigarettes and something that Kinn could never put his finger on, but that made him feel relaxed and home.  

Kinn frowned as he felt how tense Porsche held his body against him.  He pulled back enough to look in his eyes.  “Porsche?  Baby…?”

Please, Porsche internally begged.  Tell me what I want to hear.   Porsche gripped the sides of Kinn’s face, his cheeks smooth from a fresh shave.  He searched Kinn’s eyes for long enough that Kinn’s frown deepened.  “Did you know?”

“Huh?”

“Did you know, Kinn?!” he asked, far more sharply than he’d intended, but his anger surged in him again, engulfing him like the phoenix tattooed on his back.

“What are you talking about?” Kinn asked, worried confusion starting to mold into annoyance.

“Mom’s trip?” he spat out the last word.

Kinn reached up and gripped Porsche’s wrists.  “Porsche, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Porsche searched Kinn’s eyes so deeply and for so long that Kinn felt stripped bare and a little uncomfortable.  He then sighed, his body slumping like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Porsche…?”

“Sit down.” Porsche led Kinn to the bed, and sat down beside him.  “What was your first thought when you saw my mother?”

Kinn opened his mouth, cocking his head as he struggled to answer.  “I… I don’t know, honey.  I guess I was confused?  Are you okay?”

“And what was your first thought when you saw your uncle with a bullet wound in his forehead?”

“... that he probably deserved it.”

“And when your father said he would take care of Vegas and Macau?”

“Porsche–” Kinn began, frowning.

“What did you think when he gave me the Minor Family instead of Vegas or Macau?” Porsche interrupted loudly.

“That Vegas just tried to kill our entire family!” Kinn snarled.

“And Macau?”

“He’s just a kid.”

“You were just a kid when he started grooming you for the role of leader,” Porsche said.  “Would you have gone into the Minor Family home and killed every last one of them if Korn had ordered it?”

“What is this even about, Porsche?  I don’t know why you have such a soft spot for Vegas.  He tried to kill you.”

Porsche’s eyes narrowed.  “I am aware.”  He was also aware of the fact that Kinn hadn’t answered his question.

“I know that Pete is your friend, but Pete made his choice.  He chose Vegas over our family.”

“Vegas is your family, too.  Vegas did the dirty shit under Gun’s order so that you all could be the face of this fucking family.  The Minor Family are still loyal to him.  They see me as a usurper.”

Kinn crossed his arms angrily.  “Vegas is a ticking time-bomb, and maybe it would have been better–”

“Get off your fucking high horse,” Porsche shouted, rising to his feet, everything exploding out of him, unable to be contained any longer.  Kinn jerked, eyes widening as he looked up at his boyfriend.  “You’re the fucking mafia.  You don’t get to pretend to be a good person.  Vegas did a lot of terrible shit and he’s a bad person, but so are you!  And now, so am I!  You don’t think you would be in the same position as Vegas if Gun had been your dad instead of Korn?”

“That doesn’t excuse–”

Porsche cut the other man off again.  “Your father stole my mother, Kinn!  He stole my entire life with her!  Those are years that I can’t get back.  Chay’s only memories of her are when she’s a zombie!  And now he’s holding her hostage again to keep me in my fucking place.  Just like Gun.  Just like Vegas and Macau.  Just like Mom.”

“Porsche, I don’t–”

Now that it was all tumbling out, Porsche couldn’t stop.  “He’s going to kill Macau, Kinn!  He’s been trying to kill Vegas and Pete.  Gun made Vegas into a monster, fine!  Great!  But your father also made you how he wanted you - a doormat.  And he made me just like my mother - useless!  I wish you could see the cancer festering in this family, Kinn.  And it was never the Minor Family!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kinn jumped to his feet angrily, getting chest-to-chest with Porsche.  “Papa is keeping this family together after Gun and Vegas tried to destroy it.”

“He killed my father,” Porsche hissed.

“Uncle did that.”

“He’s fucking lying,” Porsche grit out through clenched teeth, head bowing in defeat.  “My memory is coming back, and I know that Korn shot him.”

Kinn’s anger turned into sadness.  “Porsche, your memories are all jumbled up.”  He reached out and gripped his shoulders.  “I know that it’s confusing, but–”

Porsche looked up, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.  “I told you that I wasn’t on the Main or Minor Family side.  That I was always on your side, Kinn.  Always.  Do you remember?”

“Of course,” Kinn whispered, wiping away Porsche’s tears with his thumbs, his own eyes burning at seeing his lover so upset.

“I wish it was the same for you.”  He shook his head bitterly, his voice soft with abject heartbreak.  “You’ll always be on the side of your father’s will.”

“Porsche…”

“Deny it,” Porsche insisted.  “Tell me that you believe me.  Tell me that you will listen to me about your father.”

Kinn’s lips quivered as he cupped Porsche’s gorgeous face.  Porsche pulled away when Kinn had hesitated for too long, and Kinn felt like his heart was ripping in half at the utter disappointment in Porsche’s gaze.  “He’s my father!” Kinn gasped out, voice cracking.  “He raised me!  He protected me!”

“And Khun?”

“You can’t blame Papa for Khun!”

“Not for the kidnapping, no.  Unfortunately that’s par for the course in this life.  But, after?  Instead of comforting his oldest son, instead of helping him get through a traumatic experience, he tossed Khun aside and moved onto the next option.  How long until he sees that Kim might be a more attractive heir?”

“That is not fair, Porsche.”

“Korn sees us all as chess pieces on his motherfucking board.  That’s what he cares about - the game.  You know why he’s so fucking afraid of Vegas and Pete that he had to send people to kill them more than once?”

“Wait, more than–?”

“Because together they’re too dangerous to him.  When I first came back here after finding out Korn sent my mother away to a place where I couldn't find her, the first thought I had wasn’t that I could get comfort from you, that you would help me find her without a second thought…” Porsche was now freely crying.  “My first thought was wondering if you’d known, and just kept it from me until she was too far away for me to get to.”

The tears that had burned Kinn’s eyes now fell.  He reached out for Porsche, but dropped his arms, chest aching.

“Vegas and Pete are a united force.  They are loyal only to each other and Macau.  Together they would be a force too powerful in this family for Korn to abide by.  Their relationship may have started fucked up, but they’re honest with each other, Kinn.  They love each other.”

“I love you,” Kinn said in a wobbly, tiny voice.

“And I love you,” Porsche whispered.  “I love you so much that I’m going to do what you can’t do for me, even if that breaks my heart, Kinn.  I’m going to save this family.  The cancer needs to be cut out.”

“Porsche, what are you saying?”

“You need to be Head of this family, Kinn.  Not you and me puppeted by Korn in the shadows.  And I need to be by your side.”

“You are , Porsche,” Kinn said desperately.

“I need to be here with you, Kinn.  Not distracted by the Minor Family so I can’t find answers about my mother.  I need to find her a cure, beca–”

“Papa has the best doctors looking after your mother, baby…”

“Doctors in his pocket!  She’s exactly as he wants her.  A pretty doll that he can admire, that will never talk back or marry someone he doesn’t approve of.  At his mercy forever, never able to tell anyone the truth.”

“He wouldn't do that…” Kinn protested, but it sounded weak, even in his own ears.

“We need to be a united team here as the Main Family, and the Minor Family has to go where it belongs.  The Minor Family wants Vegas back.  I’m not their leader.  Nobody’s cowering from me , Kinn.  Nobody’s behaving because they’re too afraid of what I’ll do.”

“You’re talking about me killing my own father.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Oh, so letting Vegas and Pete kill him is the better option?!”

They’re coming, Kinn.  And it’s going to be messy.  They’re still alive after two attempted hits.  And they’re coming no matter what.  Let the Minor Family do the dirty work, like they always have.”

“Two…?”

“Korn sent a gunman to their house.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Kinn exploded, arms spread out and chest heaving.

“Because you wouldn’t have believed me!” Porsche shouted back, breathing just as hard as the other man.  “Every time I try to talk to you about Korn, you shut me down!  He had my uncle shot before he could tell me the truth!  He wanted me to find out about Mom only on his terms!  He almost had me kill someone else entirely as a scapegoat!  Don’t you remember?!”

Kinn slumped back down on the bed, more tears falling down his cheeks.  His world had seemed so perfect even just yesterday, and it was all crumbling down around him.  It felt like when Tawan had betrayed him, like quicksand under his feet, like everything he’d ever believed was a lie, and the world was laughing at him for being so fucking stupid.

“Does this mean you’re leaving me for them…?”

“Never.” Porsche crouched in front of Kinn, gripping his hands tightly.  “I just want the fucking lies to stop!  I want my mom and my brother to be safe!  I want the man I love to be safe and protected.  I want you to have a strong base under you so that it doesn’t get destroyed.  I want Pete and Vegas to come home so that nobody will ever dare think of hurting you.”  

Porsche reached up and brushed his fingers against Kinn’s lower lip.  “I don’t want to have to worry that your father will change his mind about you.  I know you don’t trust Vegas right now, and that’s fine.  That has to be rebuilt.  But love changes people, Kinn.”  He shook his head.  “You and Vegas are so alike.  Molded and broken by your fathers, but brought back stronger from the ashes by love.”

Kinn let out a choked sob.  “You and your stupid fucking phoenix metaphors.”  He felt raw and cored, as if all his nerves had been ripped out and laid bare on top of his flesh.

“I love you, Kinn. I really, really, really love you.  And I know you love me.  I know it.  But I want us to be able to trust each other, too.  You put your trust in me the night Gun came.  Please trust me like that again.”  He bowed his head and kissed his lover’s hands.  “Please, Kinn.”

Please give me the answer I want to hear, Kinn…

 

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

 

“ Of course he knew her as a child.  This show is so stupid,” Macau hissed.  “I wish this fucker had died of bone cancer.”

Tankhun repeatedly hit Macau over the head with a throw pillow.  “I can’t hear the dialog with you constantly complaining.”

“You don’t even speak Korean!” Macau shot back, covering his head to dodge another blow from the sequined pillow.

“I can’t hear the subtitles!”

Macau groaned, grunting as Chay elbowed him in the side.  They were holed up in Tankhun’s rooms all huddled on his giant bed, watching a k-drama, which felt like a deep layer of hell to Macau.

“I guess this isn’t taking your mind off things, huh?” Chay murmured, gently kissing Macau’s earlobe.

“It’s making me question Pete’s taste is what it’s doing,” Macau muttered, pitching to the side so he could rest his head on Chay’s shoulder.  “If this is what k-dramas are like, they suck.”

“There are much better ones,” Tankhun defended hotly.

“Then why aren’t we watching those ones?!” Macau exclaimed.

Tankhun hit him over the head with a pillow again, but a bright pink fluffy one this time that matched the neon cigarette pants he wore.  “You are too much like your brother.”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.  He raised you wrong.”

The longer things went without hearing from Vegas and Pete pointed to them being alive, but that didn’t make Macau feel better.  They were all just waiting for the executioner’s ax to drop, and it frayed his nerves.  “Yeah… well, maybe.  It’s not like Papa gave him a good example, and all his hedgehogs kept dying.”

“Hedgehogs…?” Tankhun asked, cocking his head.  His voice had a soft, dreamy quality to it that was opposite the sharpness he’d spoken to Macau with earlier.

“Papa made him raise them.  Sometimes they would die naturally, but sometimes I think he killed them, or made Vegas kill them.”

Chay flinched.  He’d never met Gun, but he sounded like a fucking piece of shit.

“I don’t know why he chose hedgehogs,” Macau muttered gloomily.  “Why not cats?  Or fish?”

“Vegas liked hedgehogs,” Tankhun said.  The younger men looked over, and saw Tankhun staring off into the distance.  “We saw them at a petting zoo once.  They had fancier animals, but Vegas was fascinated by the hedgehogs.  The adults were doing something, so I was asked to watch Vegas and Kinn.  I think Vegas was 8…”

Chay and Macau watched him silently.

Tankhun began to pet the fuzzy pillow, tumbling down into the memory.  “Kinn got bitten by a lizard.  He was totally fine, but he was a crybaby.  He didn’t even need a band-aid, but I put one on him anyway because he wouldn’t stop crying that he was going to get tetanus and die.  After I helped, Kinn stopped crying immediately and ran off to pet a goat or something.  Vegas hadn’t even moved away from the little pen.  He reached up and pulled on my hand to ask me about them.  He’d never seen one before.”

Macau’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he heard this story.  It’s not like Gun would have ever told him any happy memories about Vegas’s childhood.  That would require actually acknowledging Macau’s existence.

“I could tell he wanted to pet one but was too shy to ask the handler.  So I held it in my hands for him to pet.  He had this big smile on his face.  I was so glad he was happy, because he’d fallen down again, and had a cut on the corner of his mouth.  Uncle showed up, and Vegas asked if he could have one because they were so cute.  Uncle said they would talk about it at home...” 

Tankhun took in a shaky breath, starting to pull at the fur on the pillow.  “That was the last time I saw him… before…”  He began tugging so hard at the fur that it ripped out, shedding neon pink on the duvet.  “... before…” he choked out a bitter laugh.  “I found out then… I realized… Vegas hadn’t been falling down.  I found out how you got those kinds of bruises.”

Chay opened his mouth, starting to move to snap Tankhun out of his reverie as tears began to slowly trickle down his cheeks.  But Macau got there first, and put his hands over Tankhun’s, halting his mutilation of the pillow.

“But you came back,” Macau whispered.  “You’re here.  I know you can still feel the bruises, and I’m sorry for that.”

Tankhun blinked, gasping and staring at Macau with wide, wet eyes as if he’d been slapped.  Chay watched as Macau kept silently holding Tankhun’s hands in comfort as Tankhun panted and came back to reality.  Macau must have had practice with this kind of thing because of his upbringing with his father.

“Sorry?” Tankhun echoed.  “Nobody ever said that to me before…”

Chay bit his lip at the agony in the room with him.  The whole thing made him so fucking sad that he had to swallow back a growing lump in his throat.  He knew that this was the mafia so was never going to be a pinnacle of how a healthy family should interact, but they were all so horrifically damaged and had no idea what love and trust felt like.

Macau just held Tankhun’s shaking hands, not saying anything.  The only sound came from his older cousin’s quiet sniffling, and a sudden ping from Tankhun’s phone.  It pinged again with a jaunty little chime that seemed to get more shrill and ominous when it kept going off.

Tankhun pulled his hands away and wiped his cheeks.  He reached for his phone, his tired facial expression and body language making him seem like a different person entirely.  That chime was Pol’s notification. Tankhun frowned at the messages.

“Up, children!” he snapped, back to his usual self so quickly that it gave Chay and Macau whiplash.  “Up, up, up!”

“What?” Macau asked, alarms going off in his head.  Though Tankhun now acted as if he hadn’t shown them such raw vulnerability, Macau saw that the mask he’d slipped back on didn’t quite fit.  Some of the flayed, broken humanity underneath was still visible around the seams.  He knew that red, wet pain.  He’d seen it behind Vegas’s mask too many times to count.

“Pol got called away from guarding the door outside.  I told him I would beat him with a club if he left, but the order came from Papa.”  He flapped his hands to usher Macau and Chay across the room, like a bird with its chicks.  “Blue took over.”  He slid a dressing screen out of the way, brightly colored scarves fluttering like flags, a few trailing to the floor.

“You don’t sound surprised,” Chay whispered, heart stuttering.  He didn’t like what it meant if Korn’s personal guard was now stationed outside Tankhun’s rooms.  He wouldn’t hurt Tankhun too, would he…?

Tankhun and Chay’s eyes met as the older man revealed a hidden compartment in the wall that held a pinpad.  He entered a code and a door opened in the wall, eyes narrowing as if he’d been able to read Chay’s thoughts.  “I love Papa,” he answered, that raw Tankhun showing through again.  “He’s my father.  But I also see him for what he is.”

Macau looked into the hidden chamber, seeing it was a panic room.

“Papa thought that this would help me get over…” he trailed off, shaking his head.  “That I would feel safer if I knew it was here, and that maybe I’d be able to sleep through the night if I slept in here.” He gently pushed Macau in.  “It should have helped, but it just made it worse, so I put the screen here.”  The room had never felt like a sanctuary - just another confining prison.  “I refused to have cameras in my rooms, so there isn’t one in there.  We won’t be able to see if you’re okay.”  He sighed.  “Little Porsche, are you…?”

“I’ll go in.” He squeezed Tankhun’s arm.  “You’re a good older brother, Phi.”

Tankhun pinched his cheek. “My ungrateful brothers don’t say that often enough.  They need your taste.”  He stared at Macau and they shared a long look, this little brat cousin from the despised Minor Family.  Thugs and murderers that had stolen his Pete away.  And yet…

“I’ll be okay,” Macau said with surety, seeing that Tankhun was falling into bad memories again.  “We have you to protect us, right?” he said in a teasing, mocking manner to bring Tankhun back to now.

Tankhun scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “I should let you rot in here, Little Vegas.”

“Our corpses will start to smell,” Macau pointed out as Tankhun pressed the code on the pinpad.

“As if you don’t already,” Tankhun hissed, though there was a slight softness around his eyes.  “There’s a… you know, gun in there too.” He said the word with such distaste.  “Since you’re from the Minor Family, I’m sure you know how to use it.”  The door slid shut, locking Macau and Chay in.

Macau slowly took in the room. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a panic room, and this one was pretty okay.  The bed was just a cot, but the mattress looked fluffy and the pillows plump.  There was a tablet charging on a small table beside a handgun.  There was also a small toilet and sink in a little side room, and a mini fridge.  “At least now we don’t have to watch k-dramas,” said Macau as he reached for the tablet.  “What do you want to watch?  We could keep watching Jujutsu Kaisen, or rewatch The Mandalorian?”

Chay suddenly flung his arms around Macau.

“Whoa!” Macau stumbled a little in surprise, both of them slumping back on the bed.  He tightly reciprocated the embrace.

“I hate this, Mac.”

“They can’t get in here, Chay.  We’ll be safe.”

“No,” Chay protested against the side of Macau’s neck.  “I hate everything about this.  That nobody tried to help Khun move past the kidnapping, that nobody cared that what’s basically a prison cell in his bedroom might upset him, that you gave him comfort that the rest of his family didn’t because you’re so used to helping Vegas with trauma.  Kim didn’t know how to ask me for anything because this family only knows how to lie to each other and ignore real feelings.  I fucking hate it, Macau.” He looked up into Macau’s eyes, which gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights.  “Mom is a fucking stranger to me, and I have to worry that my boyfriend is going to get murdered.”

“Chay,” Macau whispered.

“I hope Vegas and Pete kill him.”

Macau blinked in surprise at the viciousness in Chay’s voice.

“What?  I can’t be angry too?”  Chay balled Macau’s t-shirt in his fists.  Actually, it was his t-shirt that Macau was borrowing.  He loved how tight it was across Macau’s chest, and he didn’t think he’d ever wash it again because it would now smell like him.  “I didn’t want this life.  I got dragged into it by Kim and Porsche and Tawan and Mom.  I was going to go to university for music before I knew who Wik really was!  And now I’m not in university at all, and I’m fucking stuck because I can’t leave my mom or brother behind.”

Chay reached up and ran his fingers through Macau’s hair.  “I thought Kim was the perfect boyfriend, you know?  He’s so fucking hot and has a mysterious, dangerous air about him, but he was also so kind to tutor me, and he was so gentle with me.  He made me feel so special.”

“Porschay, you don’t have to tell me this,” Macau said, grimacing a little.  He was all for open and honest relationships, but he didn’t want to hear the nitty-gritty details about Kim and Chay’s relationship.

Chay huffed out a bitter laugh.  “He would be so fucking embarrassed if he knew that he was trying to be you, without even realizing it.”

“Huh?”

“You’re all those things, Macau.” Chay slid closer to him, pressing their foreheads together.  “You have a mysterious, dangerous air about you, but you’re also gentle with me.  You’re kind and notice when the people you care about are hurting.  And you make me feel special.”  Chay leaned in so their breaths mingled.  “And you’re also really hot.”

Macau blushed, face feeling like it was on fire.  “You don’t want me singing any whiny love songs for you, though.  Trust me.”

“Oh, I know.  We did karaoke together, remember?  I want to forget.”

“Bastard.  And I won’t be able to beat up a bar full of guys, but I’m definitely better with guns than Kim ev–” Macau was cut off by Chay’s mouth landing on his.  His nerves were so frayed and his emotions so chafed raw that he didn’t even know what to feel, how to react.

Chay pulled back, biting his lower lip.  “I know that this isn’t the most romantic place in the world, Macau.  But… if something happens…”

“Chay–”

“I don’t want to wake up and realize I missed a chance because Kim made me too sad and embarrassed.”  He kissed Macau greedily again, tasting the heavenly, soft heat of the inside of his mouth.  He pulled away and sighed.  “My timing is really awful, huh?  I’m sorry.”

Macau stared at Chay for a few stunned, silent moments.  But then he gripped the back of Chay’s neck and pulled him forward, crushing Chay against his chest.  They fell back against the bed, Chay’s weight deliciously pressing Macau further into the mattress.  

For the past 24 plus hours, he’d been living in a state of purgatory, somewhere between life and death.  Breathing, but waiting for the end.  His death certificate had already been signed, and he’d just been waiting for the ink to dry, Vegas and Pete both gone and not gone.  But Chay’s warmth against him, the taste of Chay’s mouth on his, stoked life in him again.  Macau had never been someone to just sit around and wait for things to happen to him.  He’d always made the most of whatever shitty hand life dealt him.  He wasn’t someone to hide behind a phone screen and a vague love song, rather than just taking what he’d wanted face-to-face.  And he wanted Chay.  If he really was to die, if the whole former Minor Family was to be wiped off the fucking map, he wanted to feel something good before it happened, goddammit.

As their lips smushed together again, Chay’s hands went up under Macau’s shirt (his shirt - Macau wearing his clothes was so sexy), and stroked across his muscles, the heat under Macau’s skin tingling into Chay’s fingertips.  He sat up, straddling Macau’s hips, and tore off his own shirt.  He gripped Macau’s hands and brought them to his chest, wanting to feel Macau’s hands all over him.  He let his boldness wash through him again, released from the prison of the insecurities Kim left him with.  He wanted to feel Macau’s touch branded into his skin forever, because this could be his last chance to feel it.  

Is this why Vegas and Pete were so obsessed with each other that nobody else in the world mattered when they stared at each other?  Is this why Porsche had tangled himself so irreversibly to Kinn?  Because the idea that this person could be ripped from you at any moment was like adrenaline pumped straight into the heart?  The idea that Chay might never feel Macau’s warmth against him, might never kiss or touch him again, made him feel like someone had zapped him with electricity.  It unleashed desire in him.  He wanted to take and take and take because it might be stolen from him at any moment.

Chay twined their fingers together on his chest as he bowed forward to kiss Macau once more.  He kept his eyes open because the lust that darkened Macau’s gaze made him feel drunk and hazy with euphoria.

“Tell me what you want,” Macau whispered, hypnotized by Chay’s gaze.  His boba pearl eyes were shining with hazy lust.

“All of it,” Chay whispered back, the words stuttered and slurred through deep kisses.  “I want you in my mouth.  I want you inside me.”

“I don’t think we have condoms…”

“Then come on me.  Come in me.  I don’t care.  I want it.”

“Then show me,” Macau demanded, loving Chay’s boldness.  He wanted more of it.  He wanted to cultivate it and watch it grow.

Chay bit his lip and dove back in for another kiss, filling Macau’s mouth with his tongue.  He gasped into the kiss when Macau’s fingers slid down, tracing the hardness in his pants.  He wanted to explore every millimeter of Macau’s body.  He wanted to get to know it as well as his own, but he wanted more .  He wanted it now .  He just hoped that he would get a chance to go slower later on, that they would have hundreds more of these chances.  He wanted to have the time to find out if this like and lust he felt for Macau would turn to love, or if it had already started to turn?

Chay slowly slid off Macau’s body, taking off his pants.  He stood at the foot of the cot, fully naked and erect, and too wound up to feel embarrassed about it.  The way that Macau stared at him made him feel powerful and sexy, not vulnerable and naked.  “Take your clothes off,” Chay commanded, turning to go into the little water closet.  He seriously doubted there was lube in here, but he’d take whatever they could use.  There was a first-aid kit on a little kitty-corner wall shelf, so he opened it and took out the small pot of petroleum jelly.  His whole body, from the hair follicles at the crown of his head to the beds of his toenails, shivered with the anticipation of Macau inside him, of their bodies joined together.

When he came out, his fingers gripped the vaseline hard enough that the container’s corners dug painfully into his palm, and his cock gave a twitch that made him groan.  Macau had taken off the rest of his clothes, and now kneeled on the bed.  His erection was thick and full, and Chay didn’t bother to pretend he was staring anywhere else other than at it.

“You’re so delicious looking,” Macau growled, crawling across the bed towards the foot where Chay stood.

Chay bit back a loud groan, hoping that this room was soundproof or else Tankhun was going to have entertainment far more salacious than his k-drama.  Macau crawling towards him like a predatory cat made his knees turn to water.  The container of vaseline tumbled to the bed when Macau’s strong arms wrapped around Chay’s waist, and his mouth enveloped Chay’s erection.  Chay threw his head back, fingers threading through Macau’s hair.  No wonder it seemed like most guys would do or say anything to get their dicks sucked.

Macau looked up at Chay as he slowly bobbed his head to suck him off.  He wanted to see Chay’s pleasure - the small smile, the relaxed curve of his neck as his head lolled back.  He wanted to keep that pleasure on Chay’s face, wanted to see more of it, so he used what tricks he’d learned with the few sex partners he’d had.  He was rewarded with Chay biting his lip in a way that was so desirable that it made Macau feel like his skin tightened all over his body.  And he made the cutest fucking noises.  This wasn’t a bad memory to have as one of his last, if that’s the way the fates were going to flow…

Porschay’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down and saw Macau watching him.  The sheer intimacy of it, and the way that Macau was swirling his tongue around the head of his cock caused Chay to groan, an orgasm ripped out of him.  Macau made a surprised nose that vibrated through his dick, but he didn’t pull off, and stroked Chay’s thighs as he milked his orgasm.

“Shit.  I’m sorry,” Chay whispered, chest heaving as his heart hammered.  “I didn’t mean to…”

Macau slid off, grinning as he wiped some saliva off his chin.  “Don’t apologize.” He rose up to his knees so they were eye to eye.

Chay reached out and stroked his thumb over Macau’s jawline, and then leaned in to kiss him, curious what it would be like to kiss him and taste himself on his boyfriend’s lips.  It’s not like it tasted like ice cream, but the sheer idea that this was his own semen on Macau’s lips, that his dick had been in Macau’s mouth, and these were Macau’s hands on his naked skin, made the bitter taste seem heavenly.  Macau also didn’t make him feel inadequate or embarrassed that he’d come so fast.  His touches were gentle, affectionate.

Chay’s boldness kicked in again and he pushed Macau back, straddling on top of him.  He reached for the discarded petroleum jelly.

“Chay…” Macau ground out as his fingers slid down near his erection.  “You don’t need–” Macau’s words halted as Chay’s fingers wrapped around his erection, fingers digging into Chay’s thighs.

“You asked me what I wanted,” Chay pointed out, still feeling the ghost of his orgasm flowing through his bloodstream like a drug.  It made him heady and greedy.  Jerking off into his hand had never felt this good.  He wanted to feel it again.  “So I’m taking what I want.”  Touching Macau like this felt similar to when he jerked himself off, but oh so different too.  As his fingers explored the veins and planes of Macau’s erection, he gave him the pot of vaseline.  “And I want you inside me.”

Macau groaned, arching up into Chay’s hand.  “Fuck, does anyone else know how filthy you are under all that cuteness?”

“Imagine how filthy I’ll be when we’re actually fucking,” Chay murmured.

Macau made a noise of disbelief that Chay found amusing and he couldn’t help but laugh, which caused Macau to laugh too.  Chay loved the feeling of Macau laughing under him.  In movies, and the way people talked about it in hushed tones, sex seemed like it should always be reverent or angsty or so full of lust that it was either hard and fast or slow and loving.  Chay liked Macau laughing like this.  He liked that he was smiling so big that his cheeks would probably be sore later.  He liked that they were having fun.

He bit his lip, but the smile didn’t falter, when Macau reached around and touched between his ass cheeks, and then slipped a finger into him, already lubed with the vaseline (Chay had no idea when that had happened).  He gasped at the intrusion.  It felt strange, but not bad.  And when Macau slipped a second finger in, the stretch felt even better.  And when his fingers found that spot inside him, it felt even better still.  He rocked his hips back against Macau’s fingers, whispering “more, Mac… please.”

Macau reached up and stroked Chay’s torso as he added a third finger.  Watching Chay fuck himself on his fingers was something Macau knew would be seared into his memory for however long the rest of his life was.  As he watched Chay take his pleasure, he coated his own cock with the vaseline.  He shook his head, once again surprised by his boyfriend when Chay gripped Macau’s wrist and pulled his fingers out.  Chay had been serious when he’d said he’d been taking what he wanted.  

Chay slid himself up a little, lining his hips up with Macau’s erection.  He slowly lowered himself down, gasping.  His thighs shook as he held himself, the sensation a lot .  It wasn’t that it hurt too much, but it sent a burn up his spine that he found he quickly got used to.  He slowly lowered himself down on the erection, stopping to get himself used to it with every centimeter.  He didn’t know what he’d pictured for his first time with Macau, but it certainly wasn’t this - him riding cowboy in a fucking panic room with a gun on the table beside him.  It made him feel dangerous and bad, all the things he’d tried to be by dyeing his hair and going to bars to get blackout drunk.  He kind of hoped that Macau would call him filthy again…

Macau groaned, using every drop of control to not thrust up into Chay and let him dictate the pace he was comfortable with.  But once he was comfortable… oh man, he was going to ruin his boyfriend.  As he bottomed out, he watched as Chay’s cock started to get hard again, and reached out to stroke it as Chay slowly started rolling his hips at an experimental pace.  Chay gasped and his penis jerked to full hardness when he created the perfect angle for Macau’s cock to hit his prostate.

“You like that?” Macau asked breathlessly as Chay did it again and again.

Chay nodded, not sure he’d be able to form words right now.  His fingers dug into Macau’s biceps as he rode him, hips moving more dramatically now, the sound of their flesh slapping together echoing in the tiny room.  He wondered what kind of noises Macau would make if he clamped down on him, so he did just that.  Macau’s hips jerked up and his fingers raked down Chay’s thighs, the force of his thrust causing them both to moan.  Chay did it again, wanting to hear that deep-throated groan that seemed to come straight out of the deepest part of Macau’s chest.

This time, Macau gripped Chay’s hips and rolled them over.  “You… you…” Macau groaned, licking and sucking at Chay’s throat.

“I’m glad I can make you speechless,” Chay teased, voice hitched as he was panting so hard.  A stuttered whimper fell from his lips as Macau gave him a forceful thrust.  “Uhhhh, yes,” he hissed.  “Yes.  Like that, Mac.”

Macau groaned again at the mischievous glimmer in Chay’s eyes, at the way his soft hair was mussed and spread around his head, and the light sheen of sweat on his skin.  “You really are dirty, aren’t you?”

Chay hummed with delight at another thrust. It felt like Macau was inside him all the way to the middle of him, fireworks of delight exploding all through him as the thrusts hit his prostate.  His moans turned into noises of disappointment when Macau pulled out.

“Roll over,” Macau commanded.  He cocked his eyebrow, giving Chay a devilish stare.

Chay groaned and did it eagerly, fingers curling in the stark white sheets as Macau entered him again, and gave him exactly what he wanted.  He bowed his back so his cheek pressed to the bed, wanting to feel the thrusts deep .  Macau fucked him roughly, but his hands were soft and gentle, and he periodically asked if Chay was okay.

“Keep going,” Chay demanded, moaning fully now.  “Don’t ever stop.”

“Fuck, Chay,” Macau ground out, nails digging into his flanks.

It felt both endless and mere seconds before tightness rushed through Chay’s whole body again, another orgasm impending.  He heard that the first time could be so disappointing, but Chay never wanted this to end, it felt so fucking good.  “Macau… I…”

“It’s okay.  Let go.”

Chay bit his lip and buried his face in the bed as he came again with a long, drawn-out wail.  His body went boneless as Macau kept thrusting into him, his rhythm becoming erratic.  Chay reached back and covered Macau’s hands with his own as he came down from his high.  He made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a gasp when Macau pulled out and came on his back and ass.  The splatter seemed to burn him it was so warm.

“You could have come inside me,” Chay whispered after Macau had collapsed on his back.

“I wanted to, but there’s no shower in here.  Easier to clean up…” he trailed off, burying his face in the nape of Chay’s neck.

“You think this room is soundproof…?” Chay asked.

“I think Tankhun would have barged in by now if it weren’t,” Macau answered, and they both started laughing.  Macau wrapped his arms tight around Chay and Chay pressed his back more firmly into his chest, neither caring about the sticky mess between them.  “I’m sure he’d have some choice words about me defiling the precious baby Little Porsche.”

“Am I your precious baby?” Chay asked, laughing when Macau made a noise of disgust.

“And nobody cares about how you defiled me, you fucker.”

“If he couldn’t hear the drama before…”

“Maybe we can write him subtitles for what happened in here,” Macau said through breathless giggles.  “In a thank you card.”

“Oh, like ‘moans in gay’?” Chay offered, laughing harder.

“I hope this is how Blue finds us,” Macau said through giggles.  “He’ll have to kill me while I’m naked and covered in come.”

Chay’s laughter stopped.  “Don’t say that.  It’s not funny.”

“Sure it is.  This whole situation is so fucking stupid that it’s hilarious.  I just had sex in a panic room in my cousin’s bedroom because my uncle is trying to kill me after trying to kill my brother and his boyfriend, who are now probably going to try to kill my uncle.  Any lakorn would kill for this kind of material.”

“Macau…”

Macau kissed the back of Chay’s shoulder.  “Porschay, if I don’t laugh about it, I’ll never stop screaming…”

 

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

 

Cello silently walked her way up to the quiet lake house.  The lights were all off, save for a small illumination by the dock in the inky blackness of the middle of the night.  She hadn’t meant to be away this long, but things were in motion, and she’d wanted to make sure that she hadn’t been tailed after her meeting.

She gave a little smile when she saw Vegas and Pete sitting on the edge of the dock, doing nothing more than stargazing and cuddling as they smoked.  She’d grown quite fond of her employers in the short amount of time she’d been working for them.

“You’re back!” Pete exclaimed in happy relief when he saw her, rising to his feet.  This was why she would now stay loyal to the couple - they saw her.  She wasn’t a background ornament or some ‘exotic’ oddity anymore. She was valued here.  “Are you okay?”

“Were you followed?” Vegas asked, also standing.  Pete elbowed him.  “And also, glad you’re okay.  I am!” he snapped when they both gave him raised eyebrows.

“I changed cars and doubled back, and ran the last mile,” Cell answered, peeling off her leather jacket, the cool air off the lake chilling her sweat.  “Let’s talk inside.”

They nodded and all went to the house.  Cello wordlessly handed Pete a note from her meeting.  Cello sighed happily at the scent of rice and spices.

“This is Porsche’s handwriting…” Pete narrowed his eyes at her.  “Where did you meet?”

“In the park.”  She sniffed at some leftovers on the counter in bliss, then started wolfing it down.  “I had to hide in the stupid public bathroom for four hours with an out-of-order sign.  The stench alone I think means I should get a big pay raise,” she said in English through a mouthful of food.

“This seems like a trap,” Vegas murmured, chin resting on Pete’s shoulder as he read the note from behind the other man.

“Porsche seemed… confident,” Cello said after swallowing.  “But sad, too.  I don’t think he’s that good of an actor.”  She took a long sip of water.

“He could be sad because he’s leading Pete into a trap,” Vegas muttered.

“Korn moved Namphueng.  Porsche doesn’t strike me as someone to use his mother in a scheme.  He can’t ask around right now, so I got a few contacts to look around for where he may have stashed her.  Porsche called Jun as well, which will get the runners going.”

“Would Korn hurt her as a threat to Porsche?” Pete asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Vegas admitted.  “Papa never talked about her, but it seemed like he loved her a lot.  But, Korn killed his own brother, and maybe Grandfather too, so I wouldn’t put stakes in his feelings for her.”

“Porsche said that Gun admitted to loving her.  Maybe it was the same for Korn.”

Vegas snorted.  “Our family is such a fucking mess.  And that’s me saying that.” He crossed his arms.  “I just don’t fucking like relying on Kinn and Porsche like this.”

“Do we have a choice?” Pete asked, cocking his head to rest his temple against Vegas’s.  “He has Macau.”

Vegas sighed.  “No, we don’t.”

“Macau is okay for now,” Cello said after another giant mouthful of food.  “Tankhun was hiding them out in his rooms.”

Pete smiled fondly, whereas Vegas scowled.  “He has a panic room.  They’ll be safe there.”

“You have far more trust in my cousin’s ability to help than I do,” Vegas muttered, starting to move into action and collect things they would need.

“I really do.”  Tankhun was one of the few things that Vegas and Pete disagreed on - the same as Pete would always disagree with Tankhun on the subject of Vegas.  He wasn’t sure if killing Tankhun’s father would exactly soften his former employer’s feelings on Vegas, but Pete did miss him, and hoped some sort of bridge could be built.

Pete started to try and help Vegas clean things up, but the other man gripped his shoulders and slowly pushed him down on the couch.  “You stay here and rest, Pete.”

Pete shook his head with an eye roll.  “I’m not an invalid, Vegas.”

“Save your strength.  Because we’re doing this together.  No matter what.”  Vegas stared at Pete for a long time, drinking him in.  Trap or no, this could be their last night alive.  He wanted Pete’s face burned onto his retina.

Pete bit his lip, his ears ringing for a reason other than his minor concussion.  “Together.”  He arched his neck and kissed Vegas greedily.  “Always together.”  

“Do you think that you two will be able to not fuck if I shut you in the trunk together?” Cello asked in English.  She said it jokingly, but knowing their track record, it was a valid question.

“No promises,” Vegas said, voice trailing off as he moved to another part of the house.

Pete laughed as he slumped into the couch, closing his eyes.  He didn’t know what Vegas had planned if they got to Korn, but that was part of the fun.  Korn had always hovered over his fucking chessboard, thinking he knew every move.  He must have thought that Pete would be a distraction for Vegas, and that’s why he’d allowed him to leave that night.  He must have thought that dopey, smiley Pete Phongsakorn would soften Vegas, would dull that evil, knife-sharp edge.  Did he realize truly what he’d done, allowing them to unite?  Korn was like all the others - he’d only seen that one side of Pete, the smiling armor of ‘beautiful idiot’.  

 Pete grinned as he drifted into a cat nap.  Vegas had been the only person to see the truth of Pete, just as Pete had been the only person to see the full truth of Vegas.  Korn hadn’t seen that darkness in Pete, but he sure would soon…

 

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

 

Pete and Vegas hadn’t fucked in the trunk of the car on the drive to the city, though the thought had crossed both their minds when Vegas had began kissing the back of his neck, arms wrapped tight around Pete in the confined space.  But they’d been too focused on listening to the radio for a station change to signal if they were being followed.

They both breathed shallowly as the car stopped, following the sounds of Cello opening the door.  There were murmured voices, and then the unlocking of the trunk.  Pete, who was in front, immediately pointed his gun out, sunglasses on to avoid blindness after being in the dark for a while.  He felt Vegas pointing a gun over his hip.

Cello and Porsche looked down at them, Porsche with his hands up in supplication.  “Easy, Pete…” he murmured, as if trying to calm a rabid dog.  His eyes flicked over to Vegas as the pair of them unfolded themselves from the trunk of the car, guns still trained on Porsche.

“I’ll be nearby,” Cello said, getting back in the car.  She drove it up towards the street to get ready in case they needed a quick getaway.

Pete and Porsche stared at each other for a while, Porsche keeping his hands up while Vegas checked their location.  They were in the parking garage of the Main Family house.  “We cool, Pete?”

Pete lowered the gun, but didn’t put it away.  His shoulders relaxed, but only a little.

“Gotta say, every time I’m on the opposite side of your gun, I get real fucking antsy,” Porsche ground out.  He thought back to the last time, when Vegas had busted him out of the basement cell, and the darkness that had been in Pete’s eyes then.  The signs had all been there, but nobody had cared to see them.  Until Vegas.  “Come on.  Arm is looping the cameras, but can only do it for a couple minutes.”

“Is Blue the only guard we have to watch out for right now?” Pete asked as Porsche led them to the elevator.

“There are a couple others, but Kinn is having a bodyguard briefing that started about five minutes ago.”

“How’s Macau?” Pete asked, body language relaxing further, but the gun still stayed out.

“A huge brat, so fine, I guess?  As well as can be expected.”

“What about Kinn…?”

“He’s not in love with this idea, but even he can’t ignore that Mom and Macau are hostages right now.”

“Did you find your mother?” Vegas asked in English, adjusting his bulletproof vest.  He tried to push memories away of the last time he’d been in this house.  There was no fucking way he was getting riddled with bullets again.  Pete must have noticed, because he briefly stroked Vegas’s pinkie finger with his own.

“I finally got hold of Tomb - she’d been sent to a warehouse guarding job in the ass end of nowhere on the drug line.  She thinks she knows where she can find out…” He sighed.  “I wonder if she even knows what’s going on.”

“I think she knows everything that’s happened, and is happening,” Vegas murmured.  “She can’t articulate it right now, but…” he shrugged.  “I’m sure she’s the only person alive now who truly knows what Korn is capable of.”

“Look, I know that…” Porsche grimaced.  “Vegas, I can see that look in your eyes.  Just…”

“Are you asking for mercy?” Pete was the one who asked.  “Really?  For the man who killed your father and did this to your mother?”  His gaze bore into Porsche like a drill.

Porsche couldn’t help but shiver.  “I know, I know.  I guess I’m just not cut out for this dirty work.”

“Is there anything you want us to try and ask him?” Vegas asked.

The elevator dinged, and Porsche held his arm out to keep Pete and Vegas in the elevator car.  He strode out casually, checking the hallway.  There were two guards at the door that Porsche didn’t recognize.  “Ah, you guys not at the meeting?”

“Khun Porsche,” one greeted.  “We’ll get the minutes later.  Have to guard Khun Korn, you understand.” His hand moved to his belt near his gun, not making it subtle.

“You’re not at the meeting, Khun Porsche?  The Minor Family guards aren’t getting the same instructions?  I assume this has to do with those degenerates?”  He also had his hand near his gun.

Porsche grinned.  “Yeah, it definitely has to do with them.”  The two guards suddenly popped into action, looking behind Porsche.  He stood perfectly still as one guard fell immediately to the high whine of a silenced bullet.  The second guard had managed to get his gun out, but was hit center mass before he could get his shot off.  Porsche waited a moment before moving to kick the guns away from their corpses.  “Get going.  You don’t need to ask him anything for me.  It’s not like he’d tell you anyway.”

“Keep everyone away from here,” Vegas warned.  “For their own mental well-being.”

“Fuck,” Porsche hissed in disgust.  He began dragging the bodies into the elevator.  “Can’t you just brain him and call it a day?”

“That’s the plan,” Pete murmured.  “We just want to have a talk with him.”

Porsche got the corpses in the elevator and shook his head as the doors slid shut.  He knew that it was a big fat fucking lie, but he chose to believe it.

“Ready, baby?” Vegas murmured.

“We’re going to come out of this alive,” Pete hissed, gripping the back of Vegas’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.  “And you’ll get the Minor Family back.  It was always yours.”

“Not mine.  Ours.  I don’t want you as just my bodyguard or my second.  You’re the most important person in the world to me, and I’ll follow wherever you go.”

Pete devoured Vegas’s mouth in a brief but feral kiss, all tongue and teeth.  They put themselves on opposite sides of the door, pressing their backs against the wall.  Pete nodded and reached out, quickly opening the door and pushing it open.  They stiffened and waited for the impending gunfire, but they were only met with yawning silence.

“Please Wool,” a calm voice wafted from within.  “Show my nephew and his companion in.  And mind the guns, boys.  You wouldn’t want to hit the wrong person.”

Vegas and Pete stared at each other from across the doorway, a silent moment of love and longing passing between them, knowing they’d willingly walked right into a trap.  A wordless promise of all the things that they could have had together, the future they could have shared.

I love you , Vegas mouthed.

Only you , Pete mouthed back.  Forever, Vegas.

The two men walked into the room, heads held high like royalty, rather than like lambs to a slaughter.  They knew there was a chance things wouldn’t work, but it still felt like a punch in the gut when they walked in the room and saw Korn sitting like a cat in the cream, partially covered behind the wall of Namphueng, Chay, and Macau.  So, she hadn’t been moved at all.  

The two boys were bound in chairs, hands tied behind their hands.  Macau had a busted lip, blood smeared across his face and splattered down his neck.  Namphueng sat unmoving, like a porcelain doll.  She’d been dressed in a highly elegant gold gown, as if she were going to a ball.  Her hair had been styled, with gold and pearl combs adorning it, even a gold mani-pedi combo with expensive open-toed heels.  Korn’s lovely toy, dressed to show it off.

Guards lined the walls with guns all pointed at the pair, with Kinn and Tankhun standing behind their father.  Kinn stood stoic-faced and stiff-backed, whereas Tankhun was slumped in the grip of Blue.  He had a black eye and tear-streaked cheeks, his mouth painted red with blood.  His eyes were wide with whatever memories he was trapped in.  When he met Pete’s gaze, his lips quivered and he moved as if trying to go to him, but Blue gripped him tighter, hard enough that he whimpered.

Pete opened his mouth as if to call to his former boss, wanting to brush away his pain.  This was the first time they’d seen each other since the night Pete left this house.  The black, monstrous thing that had already risen to the surface coiled in rage.  How could Korn do this to his own child?  Especially when he knew what restraint and confinement did to his mental state.

“This isn’t how I wanted our reunion to go,” Korn said sadly.  He nodded to two of the guards, who came to Pete and Vegas and relieved them of their guns.  They started patting them down, removing all the hidden weapons, as well as their bulletproof vests and the backpack strapped to Vegas’s back.  “Perhaps this is how I expected it with Vegas, but I am surprised with you, Pete.”

“Maybe it just shows how little you paid attention to me,” Pete said lowly, sweeping his gaze over the three seated prisoners.  Chay and Macau both looked mutinous, whereas Namphueng  stared straight ahead, as if she weren’t in a room surrounded by armed guards, tied up next to her youngest son.  However, when his eyes seemed to meet hers, there was… something there.  A small spark, a tiny flame in a pit of blackness, struggling to ignite to full flame before it was engulfed by darkness again.

“Yes, I appear I may have miscalculated your power.  I thought you a mere Pawn, but you command the board like a Queen.”

Pete meant to respond with a biting comment, but there was a commotion behind them.  Porsche was dragged into the room by three guards.  All looked rumped, a couple of the guards sporting bloody lips.  One had a broken nose, and a swollen eye that would turn a fierce purple in a few hours.  Porsche was also rumpled, his lip cut and eye starting to swell shut.  Blood trickled from his nose.  

Another pair of guards dragged in a near-unconscious Cello.  He dreads hung lank around her slumped head.  She looked like she’d put of a hell of a fight, judging how fucked up her captors looked.  She was lowered to her knees, where she swooned, but raised her head in silent defiance.  Her bloodied face turned to her bosses, and she gave them a dazed, apologetic stare.

When Porsche saw Chay and Namphueng in front of Korn, he started struggling anew, cursing and swearing at the guards who held him.

“Porsche, please.  I don’t want to have to do something rash to make you calm.” Korn shook his head.

Porsche looked helplessly at his mother, then behind Korn to Kinn, who had a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw.  But other than that, he gave no reaction.  The devastation on Porsche’s face was evident, but it got buried under a dark rage.  He had that same darkness in him that Vegas and Pete had, though his violence was thoughtless and explosive like a grenade.  He didn’t relish in the pain or in the causing of it like the other two men beside him, and it always fizzled just as soon as it appeared.

Porsche laughed darkly.  “We keep doing this, don’t we?” he asked of Kinn.  His lip curled up in a pained sneer.  “I didn’t know,” he whispered to Vegas beside him.

Vegas shrugged.  “This was never going to end well, no matter what.”

“You don’t need Tankhun in here for this,” Pete said, head still held high.  If Korn wanted to think of him as the most powerful piece on his stupid fucking chessboard, he would die like royalty, not giving Korn a glimpse of any kind of weakness, not even right until the end.  “But, torturing your own son is something you and your brother had in common.”

Korn frowned, and Pete didn’t miss the slight flinch in Namphueng’s features.  It passed quickly, like fast clouds over the sun.  “My son is an adult who made his choice.”

“Go ahead then,” Vegas said wearily.  He moved, which caused several guns to cock, but he only reached out for Pete’s hand to twine their fingers.  “I don’t fucking care about your reasoning, or your great master plan.  You could have just left us alone and controlled everything like your chess pieces.  I didn’t fucking care about my father’s legacy anymore.”

“You would have again.  I thought Pete going to you would weaken you further, but as I said… I miscalculated the value of my former bodyguard.  Your petulance also sounds very much like Gun now.” Korn smiled fondly, as if thinking of a happy memory.  “And your ego to think that this was always only about you.”  His hand came down on Namphueng’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed friendly and caring, but his fingers squeezed a little too roughly, the weight of his hand was a little too possessive.

Porsche jerked against the three men holding him back, and Chay also struggled against his bonds, glaring over his shoulder at the older man.  “Leave her alone!” the youngest person in the room shouted angrily.  “Haven’t you done enough to her?!”

“I’ve been taking care of your mother since before you were born, Porschay.  I know what’s best for her.”  He nodded to a guard, who came forward and punched Chay in the face.  Bloody spittle flew from his mouth and dripped across his mother’s lap and folded hands.  She looked down calmly at the warm sensation on her skin, as if it were merely water she’d accidentally spilled.

“Fuck you!” Porsche screamed.  He started struggling with such force that a fourth guard had to join the ones trying to restrain him.  They tackled him to the ground, pressing his face into the carpet.  “Kinn, you’re just going to let him do this?!”  He yelled incoherently in rage as one of the guards ground his face into the floor.  “Motherfuckers!  Kinn, you fucking coward.”  He rolled his eyes up and blasted his lover with a wrathful glare that burned hotter than fire.

“Your father’s common blood has made you so unruly.  Vegas and Macau have also been poisoned by the weak blood of their father.  I let Gun languish in vice for too long, and it made him petty and weak.”

“So weak that you have to be surrounded by guards to face us?” Macau hissed.  He was rewarded with a backhand from the same guard that’d punched Chay.

“I wanted to please my darling sister, to keep her happy by bringing her sons closer.”  Korn continued as if Macau hadn’t spoke, saying ‘darling sister’ in a tone that could make skin crawl.  He stroked her gleaming hair, then put his hand back on her shoulder.  “But you have been so unruly lately, Sister.  I think they bring too much excitement for you.”

Korn raised his free hand, signaling to the guards.  “Which one first, hmm?  Which unruly child should be punished first?  Which child who spit my love and generosity back in my face should be disciplined first?  Should it be the nobody street urchin who I brought under my protection and gave a life and comfort?  Should it be Gun’s monstrous spawn?  Should it be your ungrateful children, Namphueng, poisoned by the Kittisawat blood?  You are my sister, and I love you so much, so I will let you keep one.”

“Papa, stop this,” Tankhun exclaimed.  “Papa, please don–” his words were cut off by Blue’s gloved hand clamping over his mouth.  Blue grimaced as Tankhun bit him, but he didn’t let go.

“You try to hide in your room, pretending this isn’t your life, too.  You need to see the truth.  I’ve been too soft with you, Tankhun.  This is how we deal with traitors.  Your brother knows where his loyalty lies.”

“Yes, Papa.”  Kinn stared ahead at Vegas and Pete, as if Porsche wasn’t in the room.

“Vegas, you and Pete are such a strong pair.  It makes you dangerous, but…” he grinned without humor.  “One can’t live without the other, am I correct?  Shall I kill one, and let the other one live with the misery, broken without the relief of joining the other in the next life?”

They continued to stare at Korn, unmoved. Their hands squeezed together though, knowing that not even death could separate them.  He was making a show of considering which person to kill first, and gasped in sudden shock when pain lanced through his hand.  He looked down to see Namphueng had dug her teeth into the hand on her shoulder, hard enough that blood spurted out all over her face.  Her teeth dug and tore deeper and deeper, until they were tearing tendons and flesh, and grinding bone.

Blue tossed Tankhun roughly to the ground, hard enough that he slammed into an end table that crashed to the ground along with him.  The bodyguard then gripped a handful of Namphueng’s hair and dug his fingers into her jaw, bruisingly opening her mouth.  Korn snatched his hand back, chunks of flesh dangling from the wound.  A clump of meat fell out of Namphueng’s mouth, her teeth stained in gore.  That fire that Pete had seen earlier flared to life in her eyes, so like Porsche’s now.

“Ungrateful bitch,” Korn hissed, slapping her with his good hand.  He glared at her.  “What’s it going to take, Phueng?  What will it take for you to love me?” he whispered to her, so quietly that only those right next to him heard it - Blue, Namphueng, Chay, and Kinn.  He continued to glare at his adopted sister.  “Kill Porschay.  I think my sister needs a reminder.”

Porsche screamed in helpless rage as the guards holding him down raised his head to watch.  Pete and Vegas scanned the room for any guard they might be able to overtake.  Macau started struggling, and had to be held down by the guard who’d slapped him.  

Pete and Vegas began to spring into action, but stopped when Kinn’s arm came out lightning fast, and clocked his father in the jaw.  Pete knew from years of training with Kinn that his former boss was exceptionally strong, and knew how to hit someone to knock them out in one punch.  His fist came into contact with Korn’s jaw, the sound of cracking bone echoing.  Korn slumped forward into Chay’s chair, causing it to fall forward.  Chay groaned as he was pinned under the older man’s unconscious weight.

All the guns in the room trained on the center of the room, pointing at Korn’s prone body, and Blue who still led Namphueng.

“Blue, let her go,” Kinn commanded.

The guards who’d been holding Porsche and Cello rose and released their prisoners.  Cello slumped down on all fours, the room spinning from her beating earlier, whereas Porsche sprung forward.  Blue tried to reach for his gun, but Porsche was on top of him, pummeling him with furious punches.  Blue’s face collapsed under Porsche’s fists, cartilage and bone cracking.  Blue spit out a few teeth and tried to struggle back, but Porsche’s attacks were unrelenting.

Vegas looked at the guards briefly.  A few of the Minor Family guards nodded respectfully to him, and a few others looked at him with hostility, but the others were focused on the center of the room.  He moved forward and kicked Korn off Chay as Kinn began to untie Macau.  Vegas looked up at Kinn as he got the chair off Chay and helped him sit up, an uneasy silence passing between them.  Macau flung himself at his brother as soon as he was free, crushing him in an embrace. Vegas completed the hug, but still stared over Macau’s head at Kinn.

“Porsche…” Pete whispered, putting his hand on his friend’s back.  “Porsche, stop.  He’s dead.  Your mother needs you.”  He’d also moved across the room.  When Porsche snapped out of his rage and crouched in front of a panting Namphueng, Pete went towards Tankhun, who was still sprawled on the ground.

“Mom…?” Porsche murmured, reaching up to cup her bloody cheeks.  She still had a dark, wild look in her eyes, but she wasn’t entirely present.  Not yet.  Her lovely gown was now ruined with blood.  Porsche looked down to wipe it off her hands, and noticed something.  When he’d visited his mother before, she’d always had slippers or socks on.  He’d never seen her bare feet before.  So this was the first time he was seeing the telltale sign of track marks.  One of the punctures looked very fresh.

His head snapped up to meet his mother’s eyes.  Had Korn been drugging her…?  What else had he…? Tears sprung to his eyes and he embraced his silent mother.

“Khun,” Pete whispered, offering a hand to help him up.  Tankhun hesitated, staring into Pete’s eyes.  Pete had never shown him that darkness before, and seeing it written all over him like a tattoo made Tankhun afraid of Pete for the first time.

“I should have done more than try to call,” Pete said, still patiently offering his hand.  “I should have barged into your room and made you see me so we could watch dramas together.”

“Yes, you should have,” Tankhun snapped, sliding that armor back into place.  But, when he reached for Pete’s hand, his hands shook with violent tremors.  “You should have come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness for letting yourself get taken by Vegas.”

“I chose him,” Pete said firmly.  “He loves me, Khun.  And I love him.  I won’t ask forgiveness for that.  Ever.”

Tankhun opened his mouth to reply, but Kinn strode to the center of the room.  “I think we need some private family time.  If you will excuse us.  Please see that Vegas and Pete’s guard gets some medical attention.  Treat her with respect, please.”

The guards bowed to the undisputed head of the Theerapanyakun family.  A couple of guards helped Cello to her feet and led her out.

“We’ll come find you,” Macau assured her.  She gave a slow nod, trying to staunch her bloody nose.

“Mom,” Porsche whispered.  “Can you hear me…?”

“Is she hurt?” Chay asked, also kneeling before his mother.

“Look.” Porsche pointed out the track marks.  “I think she’s been drugged. There are a lot of old marks here.” He gently took off Namphueng’s shoes and inspected her feet.  There were lots of old bruises and needle pricks.  “Probably on her thighs too… places that we wouldn’t have seen.”

Chay bit his lip.  “He said he loved her…”

Porsche’s lips quivered, looking up into his mother’s blank gaze.  It looked so incongruous with the blood smeared all over her lovely face.

“I’ll call a doctor that isn’t one of Papa’s.  He can do some blood work on her to see what she was injected with,” Kinn offered gently.

Porsche looked up, as if surprised that Kinn was still in the room.  The heavy, silent stare that passed between them held even more uncertainty than the one that Kinn and Vegas had shared moments earlier.

“I… Porsche.  I… couldn’t tell you.  I needed Papa to believe me. I…I… Porsche, I’m always on your side.”

Porsche’s heart stuttered painfully.  He knew Kinn’s reasoning was correct, but he hadn’t believed in him, just as Kinn hadn’t believed in Porsche in the past.  “Why is it so hard for us to trust each other?” Porsche asked wetly, trying not to cry in front of his mother.

“Porsche… I…” Kinn sighed.

“I know.” Porsche rose to his feet.  “It’s something we have to deal with, Kinn.  But I need to worry about Mom right now.”

“Of course.” He tried not to hear the dismissal in Porsche’s tone.  But it was there.  It was there .  He looked back to Tankhun.  “Are you okay?  Your nose looks broken.”

“Because it is broken, Kinn.” Tankhun put his fingers to the swelling bridge of his nose.  “Please learn to be observant since you’re now the head of the family.  Oh no, I’m going to have an ugly bump.  I’ll need to have plastic surgery!”  He sighed, the mask slipping again as he looked down at his father’s prone form.  “I never thought Papa would let someone hurt me like this again…”

Macau pulled away from Vegas and stood.  “You were really brave, Tankhun.  Thank you.”

Tankhun flinched, looking at his cousin with raw, naked emotions.  “Brave…?” he snorted.  “Nobody would ever use that word to describe me.  You don’t need to tease me.”

“I’m not,” Macau said seriously.  “You don’t need to fight a hundred guys to be brave.  Getting out of bed every day when you just want to forget the pain is bravery, too.  And it’s the harder bravery, the one that takes more strength.  Kim can beat up a whole fucking bar, but do you see him here?”

“Macau…” Pete smiled at him proudly.

“Don’t think that your sweet-talking can make me forget that you defiled my hiding room with sex !” Tankhun exclaimed, stalking forward and jabbing his finger in Macau’s chest.  “Corrupting my Little Porschay like that!   Just like your brother!  You are going to have to pay to have it cleaned, bleached, fumigated, and exorcized!”  He flapped his arms like a giant bird as if to brush away even the idea of Macau and Chay being together in that room.

“I promise, P’Khun,” Macau answered sweetly, giving him a big shit-eating grin.

Tankhun reached out and wrapped his fingers around Macau’s chin, giving his face a shake.  But it was gentle.  “You are the worst brat I’ve ever met.”  This little Minor Family cockroach had scuttled in past Tankhun’s walls and masks, all while being a smug little jerk.  He suddenly leaned in and kissed Macau’s forehead.

“Does this mean I don’t have to watch terrible dramas with you anymore?  Because they are so terrible .”

“My father was right about one thing - you are ungrateful, Macau.” He released the younger man, and turned to Porsche.  His demeanor immediately softened.  “I’ll help you with your mother.  It’s a shame this gown had to be ruined.  A Vera Wang… just trash now.”  He picked up her shoes as Porsche and Chay helped her to her feet and Macau grabbed her skirts so she wouldn’t trip.  

“This all feels very Disney princesses!  Except if there was more gore in Snow White, and all the dwarves were criminals,” Macau said pleasantly, as if they hadn’t just had a horrifically traumatic event play out before them.

“Must you joke right now, Little Vegas?”

“Yes.”

“We should watch Snow White together!  I have some cute clothes we can maybe put her in before the doctor comes!  I doubt she wants to go back up to that room.” Tankhun led them out of the room, a strange procession, leaving just Kinn, Pete, and Vegas in the room with Blue’s corpse and an unconscious Korn.  Pete went to Korn and tied him up before he could wake him up.  Blue was already cooling, his face hamburger.

“What now?” Vegas asked.  He had been standing back silently, watching everyone else, feeling like an outsider.  This house had always made him feel like an outsider.  He’d never truly been welcome here.  He hadn’t even been welcome in his own father’s company, so why would the rest of the family want him around?

Kinn had been watching after Porsche, lovesick and lost.  When he turned to face his cousin, that vulnerable expression vanished.  His heavy eyebrows drew together in a stern frown.  “What now…” he echoed.  “I still don’t trust you, Vegas.  How can I?  You and your father tried to kill all of us.”

“Yes, and you defied your father for the good of this family, like I never could.  Right?  You’ll always be better than me.  Is that what you want to hear?”

Kinn ground his teeth.  “I saved your life tonight, Vegas.  Why are you purposely trying to antagonize me?”

“Vegas,” Pete murmured, coming to stand beside him.  He put a steadying hand on Vegas’s elbow.  “Baby…”

Vegas let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.  “I hope my father’s ashes are congealing right now in rage, that I still couldn’t beat you.”

“Why does it always have to be a fight, Vegas?”

Vegas regarded Kinn for a few moments.  “It doesn’t, Kinn.  I’m not trying to antagonize you.  Not purposely, anyway.  Thank you, Kinn.  If you won’t believe it for me, believe my thanks for Pete and Macau.  Their lives are more important to me than my own.”

Pete squeezed Vegas’s elbow hard in displeasure.

So… what now?” Vegas asked again.

“Porsche doesn’t want the Minor Family.  And, he…” Kinn trailed off, trying to be diplomatic.

“He fucking sucks at it,” Pete filled in.

Kinn cocked his head at his former bodyguard.  He’d trusted his life in Pete’s hands so many times, and yet he felt like he was seeing the other man for the first time, or at least seeing all of him.  Pete had brought out a softness in Vegas that hadn’t been there the last night he’d seen them, but Vegas had also brought out a darkness in Pete that had been locked below the surface.  “I love him, but yes.  You and Uncle were the ones who kept the underground afraid, Vegas.  Porsche is right about that.”  Kinn sighed, crossing his arms.  “The Main Family won’t trust you, and the Minor Family won’t trust Pete.  I don’t want a rift anymore.  I don’t want to have to watch my back for the Minor Family to overthrow me at every turn.”

“Kinn…” Pete began.  It was the first time he’d ever said Kinn’s name without honorifics.

“I want my family to be stronger than what my father left me.  I am offering your return to the Minor Family, Vegas.  You and Macau.  But not alone.  It’s up to you and Pete to get the family to trust you again - a murderer and a traitor.”

“You think I wouldn’t have given the title to Pete anyway?” Vegas asked with a cocked eyebrow.  “Did Porsche put you up to this?”

“No.  He told me to give the Minor Family back to you.  But Papa was right - you two are stronger together.  And like I said, I need strength now.”

“And you’ll be willing to listen to suggestions about what to do, even if it goes against what you want?” Vegas asked bitterly.

“I’m willing to at least listen.”

“Fine.  I’ll go back to doing the dirty work, Kinn.  But my first suggestion?  You and Porsche need to work on your trust issues.”

Kinn’s mouth twisted in distaste.  “Thank you for the advice, cousin.  See?  I listened.”

“What about your father?” Pete asked.

Kinn looked uncomfortable.  “I… I’m not my Papa.  He killed his own father.  He killed Uncle Gun.  He… kept Namphueng against her will.  He killed Porsche’s father.  But…”

“We came here to kill him anyway, Kinn,” Pete said.  “Killing your father isn’t something that everyone can do.”

Kinn narrowed his eyes at Pete, but he didn’t ask further.  His mind filled in the blanks.

“He tried to kill us three times already, cousin.”

“I don’t… don’t ever tell me what you did to him.  And if anyone outside the blood family asks, I killed him.”

Both men nodded with a slow assurance that made Kinn feel cold.  They were back to do the dirty work, indeed.

“I need to call a meeting of the ancillary gangs to let them know about my father’s untimely death.  And I need to check on Tankhun and Porsche’s mother.”

“And Porsche,” Pete added.  “Don’t dismiss what Vegas said.  You said yourself that we are stronger together.  It isn’t just because we love each other.  We trust each other implicitly.”

Kinn frowned.  “I think I liked it better when you couldn’t talk back to me, Pete.”  He strode to the door, taking care not to look at his father.  He wanted to have happier last memories of him than whatever was to befall him.  “I’ll come back in a few hours to collect him for the funeral home.  Whatever you do… just…”

“Don’t worry.  He’ll be presentable,” Vegas assured.

As Kinn closed the doors to his father’s chambers, the assurance didn’t make him feel better.

When they were alone, they didn't immediately get to work or fall upon each other in passion.  Instead, they just stared at each other, searching each other’s faces in the silence.

“Why do you trust me, Pete?” Vegas asked quietly.

Pete pressed their foreheads together.  He twisted their fingers together and brought their joined hands up to his chest, wanting Vegas to feel his heartbeat.  “I don’t know.  I just do.  The road there doesn’t matter.  We got there, Vegas.  Even if you screamed to the whole world that you despised me and left me alone and abandoned, I would sit down and wait for you to come back and get me when it was safe.  It doesn’t matter why.  Nobody else has to understand us.”

“You’re the only thing in the world, Pete.  In life, in death, in every other life after this.”  He stroked Pete’s hair and gently kissed his lips.  “Are you ready, Head of the Minor Family?”

Pete made a pleasured noise in the back of his throat as Vegas continued to pet his hair.  “I can’t believe I actually fucked my way to the top.”

“Seems the correct award for how good you are at fucking.”

“Is it too depraved of us to fuck in front of your dying uncle?  Because that’s totally going to happen, Vegas.  We won’t be able to control ourselves, and you know it.”

Vegas kissed Pete again, this time hungrier, more forceful.  “I would have fucked you right on top of my father’s cooling corpse, Pete.  I would fuck you on the King’s body.  I would fuck you on national TV.”

“You say the most romantic things,” Pete whispered, his eyes glittering like dark stars.  “I don’t think anyone has ever loved anyone as much as we love each other.”

“If anyone claims they do, we’ll just have to kill them,” Vegas vowed.  He pulled away, kissing Pete’s hands before dropping them.  He gestured to a backpack that he’d been carrying that the guards had divested him of.  “Grab that bag, sunshine.”

“What’s your plan this time?” Pete asked, a thrill going up his spine, the darkness inside him taking over.

Vegas went over to the large desk towards the back of the room, and swept his arm across the surface, knocking everything to the floor.  “There should be a tarp in there, baby.”

Pete unzipped the surprisingly heavy camping bag and found the folded plastic.  There was also a plastic medical box and some rope, as well as a varying assortment of medical tools. He grinned as he noticed there was also lube.  He pulled it out and grinned, dimple flashing.  “I love how fucking horny were are, darling.”  

He flapped out the tarp, and helped Vegas cover the heavy wooden desk.  They then grabbed Korn and carried him over, laying him face-up on the tarp.  Vegas then pulled out the medical box, Pete’s eyes on him with hungry, rapt anticipation.  He pulled out a small pair of medical scissors, as well as a syringe and small bottle of liquid.  “Tie his arms and legs back, sweetness,” Vegas instructed, filling the syringe with fluid.  “Cyclobenzaprine,” he narrated, injecting it into Korn’s jugular.  “It will make Uncle nice and relaxed.”

“I feel like you’re a doctor right now,” Pete murmured.  “It’s giving me roleplay ideas…”

Vegas smirked.  He picked up the scissors and began cutting away Korn’s clothes.  “Does that make you my nurse?  Shall we buy one of those slutty nurse costumes that drunk white American girls wear at Halloween?”  The up-and-down stare that Vegas gave Pete scorched him right down to his marrow.  Pete pulled out his phone, fingers fumbling as he pulled up AliExpress.

“Are you seriously looking for it?” Vegas asked, laughing as he continued to cut off Korn’s clothes.

“You can’t look at me like that and expect me not to, Doctor Theerapanyakun,” Pete hissed.  “Oooh, a black one!” He put it in his cart and ordered it.

Vegas removed Korn’s clothes down to his boxers, and then opened the plastic box again.  There was a leather case within that, when unzipped, revealed a few scalpels.  Pete shook his head, licking his lips.  “You were reading anatomy textbooks earlier.  Vegas, you were planning this…”  Pete tugged on the ropes to make sure the knots were secure.

“Shall we have an anatomy lesson, my love?”  Vegas pulled out a pair of latex gloves and snapped them on in a way that made Pete’s knees turn to jelly, and his cock twitch.  

He took one of the scalpels in his elegant hands, and began to make a Y-incision on Korn’s chest.  This caused the older man to wake up, groaning.  He jerked like a dying fish, but the ropes and the muscle relaxant now sweeping through his veins made his motions sluggish.  He blearily opened his eyes and looked up to see Vegas and Pete looking down at him, eyes as black and hungry as sharks.  The sharp pain of his skin splitting like butter under the scalpel was nothing to the terror Korn felt at the looks in their eyes, knowing he could do nothing about it.

“You should have just left us alone, Uncle,” Vegas admonished as he continued to split Korn open.  The skin parted under the sharp blade, curling away from the red line.  Korn groaned, trying to form words.  He looked so small and helpless like this.  His uncle had always seemed like such an implacable wall of power all through his life, but Vegas supposed even the most powerful became terrified, mewling messes when their muscle was being diced like deli meat.

Pete’s attention turned to Vegas’s hands rather than the muscle being revealed like a striptease.  He loved those hands so fucking much.  How could something so elegant and lovely be capable of giving so much pain and so much pleasure?  His fingers moved like a conductor, creating the symphony of Korn’s groans with the undercurrent of wet gore.  He knew how to make music with people’s bodies.  He wrote masterpieces on Pete’s flesh, created epics with Pete’s moans.

“Was this a part of your plans, Uncle?” Vegas asked, pressing his fingers in the wet striations of Korn’s pectoral muscles, flayed bare.  “Is this how you pictured the Minor Family dirty work?”

Pete slipped on a pair of gloves as well, needing to touch where Vegas had touched.  The white latex gloves were stained red as Vegas began to separate the flaps of flesh, opening Korn’s skin like a book.  Pete ran his fingers over the exposed chest muscles, prodding them.  He grinned at the pained whimper that came out of Korn’s mouth.  He then dug his fingertips into the meat, dragging his nails across the skin.  Korn’s groans turned louder as the flesh ripped and pulled away from the bone under Pete’s hand, curling a trail under his nails.

“We have something in common, Khun Korn,” Pete said lowly, sensually.  He stroked the inside of Korn’s chest like he would a lover, fingers exploring lower, under the flesh towards Korn’s belly.  He marveled at the way Korn’s flesh roiled and bumped as he tore his way through the layer between skin and muscle, like something unspeakable lived under there.

Korn responded by trying to shout at Pete, but it came out as a clenched, lolling growl.

“We both killed our fathers, you know?  I wanted to hurt my father badly.  I wanted to give him every injury he’d ever given me.” He curled his fingers under the skin, delighting in the ripping noise as he created ruin in the wake of his touch.  “I wanted to give him back the pain tenfold.”

Pete hummed and picked up a scalpel.  “Would you say that the pain is tenfold right now, Khun Korn?”  Pete sliced into the connections of bone and muscle, slicing like a butcher, thin and precise layers of muscle coming away.  He pulled up a flap and showed it to Korn’s glassy eyes.  “I’d say not yet,” Pete murmured.  “There is no level of agony in the world that you could feel that would equal you trying to take Vegas from me.”

Pete tossed the scalpel aside and gripped the flap of muscle, wanting to feel the heat under his touch.  He wanted Korn to suffer by his hands , not through an impersonal tool.  As he tore the left pectoral muscle, already ruined from his and Vegas’s bladed exploration, it ripped with the sound of paper.  Korn keened, his bound legs twitching and jerking uncontrollably.  His bladder loosed, wetting the front of his boxers.  His head flopped back and his muscles relaxed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Vegas’s eyes burned into the side of Pete’s face rather than the gore as he ripped muscles away from their bone mooring.  He devoured the look on his husband’s face, tasting it like the sweetest, lightest dessert.  When Pete’s eyes went hard and black like this, he was the sexiest thing in the entire world.

Pete flopped the removed muscle unceremoniously on Korn’s wet lap, and dove back in for the other side, ripping with such abandon that he broke one of his nails within the latex glove.  He yanked and tore like a desperate, wild animal, the pectoral pulling up in long, stringy lines that flecked blood across the desk, splattering Pete and Vegas with searing red heat.  The absence of muscle revealed the latticework of Korn’s ribcage, the whiteness of the bone compared to the red of the gore looked stark, naked, and almost obscene.

Vegas realized he was panting, lost at staring at Pete.  His mouth felt parched with the desire for him, for the endless dark yearning that sucked in his soul like a black hole.  The temptation to just step past that event horizon loomed within Vegas.

Vegas shook his head to bring himself back to the present.  “There should be a big pair of what look like shears in there, my darling.”  He was breathless, like he’d just run a marathon.

Pete pulled out the instrument, examining it.  Every inch of his skin tingled from the weight of Vegas’s consuming gaze.  They stared at each other over Korn’s open torso, wet heat wafting up.  They held a silent conversation just with their eyes, understanding each other perfectly.  It mirrored the first time their monsters had met - when Vegas had Pete tied to that column, electrocuting him.  Their gazes seared and searched, seeing deep into the meat of each other, deep into each other’s essences.  They laid each other’s souls bare without a single word.

“Show me more, Doctor.” Pete leaned over Korn’s prone form and licked across Vegas’s lower lip.

Vegas chuckled darkly, biting Pete’s tongue to bring it into his mouth, sharing a hot, wet kiss.  Pete reached up and gently touched the side of Vegas’s face, more precious to him than anything in the world.  It left a bloody handprint against Vegas’s pale skin.

“I don’t think this is proper surgical ethics, Doctor Theerapanyakun…”

“Is it proper ethics to give your nurse a rectal exam during someone else’s surgery, Nurse?”

Pete bit his lip as he handed Vegas the shears that he only now just remember he was holding.  “Only if the nurse really, really, really needs it.”

“Does the nurse really need it?” Vegas teased lowly.

“The nurse may suffer from a gaping deficiency,” Pete purred, then gasped at the sharp cracking of bone when Vegas began cutting through Korn’s ribs.  The snipping noise of the industrial bone shears made a discomforting noise, a sadistic whispered ‘snip’, which made Pete feel both disgusted and powerful.

Vegas gestured for Pete to join him in cutting the next rib.  Pete walked around him, making a big show of sliding his arms around Vegas from behind, their gloved hands joining on the rib cutters.  It actually took a little bit of strength to cut through them, and Pete felt the snapping of the blades closing around the bones right up his arms.  He gasped again, burying his face in the side of Vegas’s neck.  Vegas moved their joined hands to the next rib, Pete’s face still pressed into Vegas’s skin.  When the third rib cracked and severed, Pete bit into Vegas’s neck like a starving vampire, the bone cracking unlocking that insatiable monster inside him.  

Each rib breaking with such cruel, surgical precision rattled through Pete’s body.  He felt it in his own bones, feeding the monster and causing it to swell.  He licked up around Vegas’s ear, then connected all the freckles on the side of his neck with sloppy, wet kisses.  Each rib snapping caused Pete to wantonly moan, his fingers gripping Vegas’s hands with a near painful intensity.

“This is supposed to be a teaching hospital, Nurse Pete,” Vegas ground out, his head lolling back at Pete’s ministrations.  “There will be a test later.”

Pete groaned as the last rib was cut.  His bloody, gloved fingers slid up Vegas’s back, under his shirt.  They counted up Vegas’s ribs, leaving a bloody ladder.  “I’ll show you where all the parts are, Doctor.  I promise I’m studying very hard.”  He pressed himself against Vegas’s back, grinding his hips against his husband’s ass so Vegas could feel his erection.  “Studying so very hard. ”

“You are the sluttiest nurse I’ve ever come across.” Vegas now panted, his own cock becoming cumbersome in his pants.

“I earned a trophy for it at the last Slutty Nurse Awards.”

“Pete…” Vegas panted, unable to keep their roleplay going as Pete’s hands now moved to the front of his torso.  He felt the wetness of Pete’s passage as his gloved fingers now played with Vegas’s nipples.

“Yes, Doctor?” Pete asked, grinning into Vegas’s cheek, then kissing a path to his lips.  He rocked his hips harder against Vegas’s ass.

“Help me lift the ribs up.  Don’t you want to see his heart beating?”

Pete moaned into Vegas’s mouth. “ Fuck ,” he hissed.  He reluctantly pulled his hands out from under Vegas’s shirt, returning his attention back to Korn.  He was, either luckily or unluckily depending on what side of the table one was on, still unconscious.  They pulled the ribcage off, leaving a big hole in Korn’s torso, a window to his organs.  It looked like an anatomical drawing, but just with a lot more blood.

Korn’s lungs inflated and deflated rapidly, his stomach quivering with the movement of his diaphragm.  It was a hypnotic, alien roiling that Pete and Vegas’s brains tried to make sense of.  At the human, base level, it was unnatural to see a human body working like this without years of medical training to dull the raw reaction.  Another person would have blotted it out, or turned away in disgust, but Vegas and Pete stared in wonder, seeing this body breathing under their hands, utterly at their mercy.  Korn’s last breaths were for them and them alone, and they stared into the physical proof.

They looked into each other’s eyes.  Twice before they had stared at each other in this sort of moment, their lust being ripped out of a dying body before them.  Each time, the monsters inside them that called to one another grew stronger and wilder.  This time, it was unbridled, pure chaos that sparked between them, something other than human.  Something that was so primal that it went beyond good or evil, went beyond human concept of anything other than feeding.

“Show me his heart, my love,” Pete breathed, voice husky.  He traced his fingers within Korn’s open thoracic cavity, little gasps of surprise falling from his lips as he felt the lungs expand under his fingers.  They were warm and spongy, a little blackened from Korn’s lifetime of enjoying cigars and cigarettes.  He pressed down on the left lung as he circled the desk, feeling the heart struggling underneath.  His fingers curled into the breathing, moving tissue, wanting to feel Korn’s heart beating under his fingers.

As Vegas began to lift up the lung to get at the heart, he did something he hadn’t even planned on.  He dipped his fingers into the end of one of the severed ribs, feeling the thick, hot sensation of raw bone marrow.  Before his brain could even catch up with his body, he pulled out a small dollop of marrow, and brought it to his lips.  He quite enjoyed the taste of bone marrow from animals, after all.  The semi-sweet, buttery taste of the raw marrow exploded on his tongue, and he blinked in shock at himself.

He looked up at Pete, unable to believe what he’d done.  He’d done a lot of stuff with a human body before, but cannibalism was one of the few bridges he’d never crossed.  Pete stared back at him with equally wide eyes, his lips quivering.  But it wasn’t disgust that flashed through Pete’s eyes like lightning.  He smashed his lips against Vegas’s, chasing the taste of the bone marrow on his husband’s tongue.

Pete roared into Vegas’s mouth, a sound he’d never made before.  The feelings burning through him were bigger than his body, were beyond what a human larynx could articulate.  The taste of the marrow in Vegas’s mouth made his skin itch.  He wanted to rip it all off and reveal the raw, bare truth of him.  He wanted Vegas’s tongue to dip in his bones and taste his own marrow.  He wanted to lick across Vegas’s breathing lungs.  He wanted to hold his steaming, beating heart in his hands and feel the life in Vegas’s body from the vascular level.

Pete pulled away and stared down at Vegas, who was still crouched over Korn’s dying body.  “Show me the heart,” he said.  It wasn’t a petulant demand.  It was an imperious command.  Korn had likened Pete to the Queen on the board, and now he was that ruler, and Vegas wasn’t the king - he was Pete’s pawn to do with as he wished.

“Oh my little monster isn’t so little anymore,” Vegas whispered, nipping at Pete’s mouth hard enough to leave an indentation of his teeth.

As Vegas slowly lifted up the left lung, not wanting to damage the heart, Pete slid behind him again, but not before dipping his fingers into the end of a rib, just as Vegas had done.  He swallowed down the marrow, briefly blinded by the sensation.

When the heart was revealed, now beating sluggishly, both watched it with awe, Pete’s chin resting on Vegas’s shoulder. Vegas’s fingers caressed over it, feeling the veins and the thick muscle.  Pete moaned, watching Vegas’s elegant fingers touching the pulsing organ.  He slid his fingers down Vegas’s forearm, leaving a wet red trail, and joined his fingers on the heart.  They stroked it gently, the same way they would stroke each other’s flesh - reverently and lovingly.

Vegas groaned, the sound vibrating through his back against Pete’s chest.  They both gently squeezed the heart, feeling it struggle in their grip.  Pete brought his other hand to his mouth to rip off the glove, and then went to work on unfastening Vegas’s pants. The feeling of the heat of Korn’s heart in one hand, and the throbbing of Vegas’s erect penis in his other caused Pete to whimper into Vegas’s hair, rocking his hips against Vegas’s ass to give some sort of friction to his aching cock.

“I want to fuck you as we feel him dying,” Pete hissed, voice high with desperate desire.

Vegas’s vision went white with lust.  “So do it.”

Pete’s free hand did its best to undo what clothes he could, for neither man was going to let go of the heart, the rhythm a slowing metronome.  Pete then flailed for the lube, quickly coating his fingers and unceremoniously thrusting two into the tight heat of Vegas’s body.  Vegas rocked his hips back, fucking himself on Pete’s fingers as he added a third one, coating his fingers with even more lube.

Pete prefered to bottom, so Vegas didn’t do it that often, and he loved to absolutely ruin Pete, but Vegas also loved the feeling of Pete owning him so completely.  Pete was his Queen, his King, his ruler, his master, his religion, his reason for breathing.  Pete was the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins.  Pete was his everything , and Vegas wanted Pete to take what belonged to him.  Which was everything Vegas had, and would ever have.

Pete coated his erection in lube in record time.  He’d used far too much, and it dripped on the ground and down his and Vegas’s thighs, but he wanted to be inside him when the heart was still beating.  “Ready, Doctor?” Pete murmured in Vegas’s ear, lining himself up with Vegas’s asshole.

“Fuck Pete, take me.  Use me.  I’m yours.  I’m yourssss ,” he hissed out, the last syllable dragged out as Pete penetrated him.  Their fingers carded together around the heart and they held it like a precious jewel.  Pete didn’t give Vegas much time to get used to the penetration like he normally would have.  His lust was far too wild and uncontained right now for that.  He began to thrust into Vegas at a rapid, dictating pace.  He reached up and gripped Vegas’s chin, forcing his head back so he could swallow the delicious noises that Vegas made.  After all, they belonged to him.

Vegas’s hand constricted around the heart when Pete thrust up into his prostate.  Vegas’s whole body shook as Pete fucked him so good and hard, hitting his prostate with every rapid, exacting thrust.  His knees turned to water at the stimulation.

“You’re so tight Vegas,” Pete praised.  “You’re everything, Vegas.  You’re mine, baby.  You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Vegas echoed.  “Only you, Pete.”  He made a truly sinful noise when Pete moved his hand down to Vegas’s hip to get better leverage to make his thrusts more forceful.  “Take me, Pete.  Take everything.  Everything !”  He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, and wound up bowed forward, his face pushed into Korn’s open chest cavity with a particularly vigorous thrust from Pete. Korn’s stomach was warm and slippery under his cheek, lubricated by blood.

Pete moaned at the sight of Vegas pressed against Korn’s corpse.  When Vegas looked up over his shoulder at him, Pete’s pace stuttered and he nearly came.  Half of Vegas’s face was slicked red.  It was plastered in his hair and it looked like he wore a grim death mask.  He pushed Vegas’s face down, wanting the other side red, too.  He wanted to see Vegas’s face fully masked in blood.  Or rather, unmasked.  He wanted to see that dark, vicious creature within Vegas finally given physical appearance.  Pete bowed forward too, licking at the gore on the other man’s face.  He swept his own cheek across Korn’s now still lungs, body heat still trapped in the flesh.  The alien feeling of the slick, spongy organs made Pete moan loudly.

They both whimpered as the beating heart slowed, slowed, slowed, and finally stilled in their grasp.  The feeling of Korn’s life having ended right under their fingertips left spectral sparks through their nervous systems, seeming to burn them with the electricity of it, of holding a life in their hands, their pleasure swallowing and consuming it whole.

Vegas’s rectal muscles clenched around Pete’s cock inside him.  Pete moaned so loud it was nearly a scream, thrashing his head and in turn both biting at the flesh under his cheek, hot iron exploding in his mouth, and finding Vegas’s mouth to smother it in wet, heavy contact that was akin to a kiss, but something more primal and desperate and fargone.

Vegas groaned at the taste of blood in Pete’s mouth, his free hand moving to his own cock.  He started jerking himself off, his forearm muscles already burning as he tried to match the pace of Pete’s thrusts.  Pete’s free hand joined his on his cock, mirroring the position of their other hands, which were still twisted around Korn’s now inert heart.  One pair of hands wrapped around heat and life, the other twined around cooling death.

“You feel so fucking good, Vegas.” Pete loved praising Vegas.  He drank it up like a wilted, starving plant finally being given water.  It caused him to bloom.  “I’ll never get tired of you.  You feel so fucking good from the inside.  You’re so tight and perfect.  You make me so happy, Vegas.  You give me everything I want, darling.”  He kissed a bloody path across Vegas’s cheek, then down his neck and across the backs of his shoulders so he could whisper in his ear.  “I love you, my good boy,” he praised as he thrust directly up into Vegas’s prostate, slowing his hips to make the pace like honey.

He knew what would happen when he uttered those words to the other man.  Vegas’s breath hitched, his muscles spasming around Pete as he came.  He whimpered against Korn’s lungs, spurting his semen up into their joined hands.  Pete stroked the come up and down Vegas’s cock as he milked his orgasm, continuing to thrust into him.  But feeling Vegas’s muscles fluttering around him caused his pace to become erratic, and it was only a few more thrusts before he came into Vegas with a low, long moan.

Vegas whimpered as he felt the heat of Pete’s come filling him, marking Vegas’s body as his .  Pete’s hand snaked from off his dick, and moved up his chest to pull Vegas up to more of a standing position.  Pete wanted to feel Vegas and only Vegas during their afterglow.  He buried his face in Vegas’s gore-soaked hair, breathing heavily.  His heart thundered in his chest, seeming to beat even more loudly to taunt Korn with its ability to beat, even beyond the grave.

Vegas let go of Korn’s dead heart and ran his hands across Pete’s arms, the only thing holding him up right now.  “Pete,” he whispered, repeating the name like a mantra.  He felt Pete’s come starting to trickle down his inner thigh.

“My baby,” Pete crooned, pasting delicate kisses across Vegas’s shoulders.  “You’re mine, Vegas.  Always.  And I’m yours.”

“Always,” Vegas echoed.  He gasped when Pete pulled out, having to grip the table desk so he wouldn’t slide to the floor.  Pete kissed him and went to go find some towels in Korn’s bathroom.  Vegas remained at the desk, gripping it hard enough his fingers were white.  He didn’t yet trust his legs to hold his weight.  He stared down at his uncle’s remains, his slack face looking almost peaceful.  “At least you did something right in your last moments,” he taunted, eyes moving to the heart, gleaming like a garnet.  He stared at the heart so intently that he gasped in surprise when he felt a warm, damp towel against his inner thigh as Pete began to clean the come off him.

“You okay?” he asked.  He then used a second towel to gently wipe at least some of the blood off Vegas’s face, revealing the human side of him again, pushing the monster away.  At least for now.  “You were gone there for a second.”

“Mmm,” Vegas hummed, wrapping his arms around Pete’s shoulders.

“So, did I pass the test, Doctor?”

Vegas grinned.  “Well, Sluttiest Nurse in Bangkok… I’d say that for a heart surgeon, it was an utter fail.  But you’d be an excellent proctologist.”

“Will you write me a letter of recommendation?” Pete teased.

“I’ll write it in the fucking sky with a plane, Pete.”

“I fucking love you,” Pete moaned, sealing their mouths together in a desperate kiss.  “Forever,” he vowed, peppering Vegas’s mouth with more kisses.  “Forever, forever, forever.”

“ Pete ,” Vegas groaned.

“Don’t ever stop saying my name like that.  No matter how many years go by.  No matter how old and wrinkly we get.”

“I’m never letting you go,” Vegas ground out possessively.

“Good.”  He smiled that glorious sunshine smile and hugged Vegas tightly.  They were the only two people who existed in the world.  “Okay, we gotta do the boring part now.  Kinn will come back soon, and I don’t think him seeing his father like this will make him very happy.” Pete reluctantly pulled away.  “I’ll go get some clothes for Korn… well, and hopefully for us, too.” He looked down at their ruined, blood smeared clothing.

Vegas nodded, finally starting to come back to himself.  He started to cut the ropes that lashed Korn to the table. “Find some cleaning supplies too,” he called over his shoulder as he collected the scalpel and rib cutter.  He continued to stare at the heart in Korn’s chest.

“We fuck in the chest cavity of a relative one time , and you get all fucking bossy,” Pete’s voice wafted from within Korn’s rooms, followed by laughter.

“Next time, you can be the bossy bottom then,” Vegas murmured, picking up the scalpel once more.

“Oh, you have more uncles we can kill?” Pete asked a few minutes later, coming back into the room with some cleaner and a black Armani suit draped over one arm.  Vegas was putting the ribcage back over Korn’s chest, so that it would at least feel somewhat normal for anyone handling the body.  He folded up the skin again as best he could, shrugging as if dealing with an awkward present.

“Anyone can be an uncle if you squint hard enough.”

Pete opened some windows to try to create a breeze to waft away the blood and gore scent of the room.  They then began the less than fun task of trying to wrestle a dead man into clothing.  At least he was still fresh so hadn’t stiffened yet.  They then lowered him onto the floor in order to clean up the bloody tarp.

“You know…” Pete trailed off, dropping the cleaner into Korn’s lap.  “I really think that we need to clean ourselves up first.  Korn has a gigantic shower, and we still have plenty of time before Kinn comes back.”

“Does he?” Vegas asked, putting the now full plastic medical box carefully back in the backpack.

“I think I need another lesson in rectal exams, Doctor.”

“You insatiable slut,” Vegas purred affectionately.

Pete smiled broadly, biting his lip.  “Race ya.”  He slapped Vegas’s ass, and took off towards the bathroom.

“Hey!  You cheater!”  Vegas chased after him, tearing his shirt off as he dashed after the perfect sound of Pete’s breathless giggles.  “You are so fucking going to get it, Nurse Saengtham!”

 

*****  *****  *****  *****  *****

 

Pete groaned, flopping down on the bed.  Moving sucked so fucking bad.  True, they had a venerable army of bodyguards and lackeys to move the truly annoying things, but there were little things to think about, too.  And those little decisions kept piling up on top of them taking over Minor Family tasks.  

Vegas, Pete, and Macau were officially moving back into the Minor Family compound.  Before they’d moved in, Pete had instructed them to take out all of Gun’s belongings before Vegas and Macau got there.  It made the huge home even larger, feeling like an empty shell.  But they would start over, making it theirs .

He was still met with some resistance from people who thought of him as a Main Family spy, but beating a dissenting bodyguard nearly into a coma had started to turn the tide.  The guards didn’t all trust him yet, but at least they did what he said without talking back.  They didn’t want to end up like their friend who had to take all his food through a straw, and they certainly didn’t want to end up like the foreman of a drug warehouse who thought he could skim off the top during the power shift.  Pete and Vegas had skimmed off a little from his top and left him sitting in his office as a reminder to the warehouse crew.

“The painters are coming,” Cello called from the doorway.

Pete groaned into the fresh duvet.  “Can’t you deal with it?”  The last thing that Pete wanted to look at was more paint chips or tile samples or color scheme binders from interior decorators.  Fuck Porsche for not doing this for them.

“Oh, you mean like I’ve been dealing with everything?” Cello shot back in English.  “Stop being so lazy, Pete.”

“What?!” Pete hissed, sitting up and glaring at her.  “Are you purposely trying to make me angry?” he asked, also in English.

“Yes.”

Pete chucked a pillow at her, which she easily dodged with a boisterous laugh.

“Absolutely terrible aim.”

He threw another pillow at her, and it went wide and hit Vegas right in the chest as he came into the bedroom holding a small box, Porsche not far behind him.

“If you were trying to hit Cello, babe… I think you need to go back to bodyguard school.”

“Vegas,” Pete whined. “Make Cello go deal with the painters.”

“Just use come instead,” Cello snapped.  “You two seem to have a never ending supply of it.”  She grinned at the glares her bosses gave her and went to deal with the dreaded painters.

“Ugh,” Porsche groaned.

“You know, you could have got some of this rolling when we took over the Minor Family from you.”

“I could have, sure.” Porsche leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.  “But why would I, Pete?”  He grinned.  “You’re so cute and little when you’re angry like this.”

Vegas’s eyes glittered in silent agreement, though he was picturing a very different moment when Pete had been angry and irresistible.

“Why are you even here?  You are here entirely too often.”

“You don’t love me anymore?” Porsche gasped in mock horror.  “Pete, I’m insulted.”

“I know you and Kinn are going through growing pains right now, but you can’t hide from him here forever,” Vegas pointed out.

Porsche sneered.  “Who asked you?”

“You did, since you’re like a mopey spirit we can’t get rid of.”

“Me and Kinn are fine,” Porsche assured smoothly.  “Totally fine.” He sighed.  “We will be.”

“He loves you, Porsche.  Stupidly so,” Vegas said, voice soft.  “Now, please leave our house unless you want to watch us fuck.”

“Or you could join us?” Pete offered from the bed.

“No!” Vegas and Porsche shouted in unison.

“Or you could stumble upon Chay and Macau having sex?”

“Holy shit.  Pete, you are so fucking gross,” Porsche ground out in pain.  “Chay and Macau do not have sex.”

“Sure.  They make merits all day and then play MahJong like all the other cool young adults do,” Vegas teased.

Porsche gave them both the finger, sticking it in Vegas’s face.  “I am leaving this pervert palace.”

“Oooh, that’s some good branding,” Pete said, flopping back on the bed again.  “Bring your mother over once we get settled.  She really liked the kai med ma muang that Vegas brought her last time we visited.”  Namphueng was still prisoner to the haze and drug addiction that Korn had left her under, but she was speaking and slowly starting to claw to the surface of her body again with the help of her sons and Tankhun.  “He can make it again for her.”

Porsche nodded.  “Hopefully she’ll be up to a field trip by then.  Too many people still make her…” he sighed.  “Thanks.”

“Always, Porsche.  Now get the fuck out.”

Porsche made a face at his friend.  He nodded to Vegas and left.

“I’m not really that tired,” Pete said as Vegas sank down on the bed beside him.  “I mean, I am, but if you actually wanted to fuck, I’m definitely up for that.”

Vegas grinned down at the other man.  “I have something for you first.”

“Oh fuck… not another box to go through.” Pete eyed the small package in Vegas’s hand dubiously.

“No.”  Vegas opened the brown cardboard and took out another box.  This one was a dark brown leather container that had some kind of intricate clasp.  “A gift, my love.”

Pete sat up, intrigued.  “If this is another sex toy…” he shook his head.  “Who am I kidding, we’ll totally use it.  But we have so many.”  He bit his lip, curiosity getting the better of him.

“No,” Vegas said again.  “I know a guy from New York.  He’s got a huge drug problem, but when he’s not stuck in a k-hole, he’s an incredible artist.  He does amazing art pieces for lowlifes all over the world who have more money than morals.  I flew him in to work on this.” He lovingly ran his fingers over the box.  “I paid him handsomely.  And then gave him a whole flight of psychotropics to fuck himself up on.”

“What is it?”

Vegas handed the box to Pete, looking at the other man’s profile nervously.  “Open it, sunshine.”

Pete examined the clasp on the box.  It was made of pewter and inlaid with garnets.  It was an anatomical heart.  A thrill ran through Pete’s body as he thought of the feeling of Korn’s heart beating under their hands.  He slowly opened the box, the leather smelling expensive.  When he saw what was within, his jaw dropped and he was rendered speechless.  He reached in and pulled out a lucite box that contained a human heart, perfectly preserved.  It sat on a long rectangular pedestal of black marble veined with red and blue, mirroring the veins of the heart, which were placed back so meticulously it could have been an anatomical drawing.  

Pete realized that the box actually came apart, and the pieces could slide across the marble base.  When he spread them out, it showed cross sections of the heart, starting thin and getting thicker towards the middle.  When he pushed open the middle section, he saw there was a chamber within the right atrium and ventricle.  Something nestled inside.

Vegas watched Pete’s reaction intently, gnawing at his lower lip as Pete pulled out the gift inside.  A pair of rings.  “Pete,” Vegas whispered, voice hoarse as a lump grew in his throat.  “I love you.  If I could have cut out my heart and given it to you like this, I would have.  I think of you as my husband every time I look at you, and I know you do the same for me.  I just… Marry me for real, Pete.”

“This is Korn’s heart…” Pete whispered, running his hands over the lucite box, sliding the pieces back together to make it whole again.  The ghost of Korn’s heartbeat thumped against his palm, and tears sprung to Pete’s eyes.  He turned to look at his husband.  “We’re already married for real.  A piece of paper doesn’t fucking matter, Vegas.”

“I want everyone else to know, to see that ring on your finger and know you’re mine, and know I’m yours.”

Pete smiled, so big and bright that it put the sun to shame.  The inside of the bands were engraved, the same for both.  The only person in the world .  He slipped it on, and of course it fit perfectly.  It made him feel right, complete.  He gently and lovingly put the lucite box back in its container and then on the floor before crawling into Vegas’s lap, slipping the other ring on Vegas’s finger.

“You’re my husband, Vegas.  Someone would have to burn the whole world down to try and take you from me.”

Vegas wrapped his arms around Pete’s perfect waist and pressed their chests together.  “I love you so fucking much, Pete.”

“I love you,” Pete breathed into Vegas’s mouth, fingers roaming through his hair.

“Never take it off, baby.  If someone cuts your finger off, you get the finger back just to put the ring on the other hand.”

Pete smiled against Vegas’s mouth.  “My husband says the sweetest things.”

“So, shall I deflower my groom on this our wedding night?” Vegas teased, licking a hot trail down the front of Pete’s throat.

“Too late for that,” Pete grunted.  “Turns out your husband is a giant whore for your cock.”

“Oh good.  I thought you were becoming a giant whore for bathroom tile samples.”

Pete groaned, shoving Vegas onto his back and straddling his hips.  “Never, never mention tiles to me again, Vegas.”

“What about backsplashes?”

“Am I going to have to jam my dick in your mouth to shut you up?”  He rolled his hips to rub their crotches together.

“Farm sinks,” Vegas taunted, laughing as Pete attacked his mouth with his own.  He laughed into the biting kiss.  “Earthenware cooking pots for bone marrow.”

Pete moaned darkly, eyes gleaming under hooded lids as his hands roughly fumbled with his belt and zipper.  “You fucking bastard ,” he hissed.  He was so worked up that he groaned, unable to command his fingers to work properly as all the blood rushed to his dick.

“My little monster is so cute when he’s angry,” Vegas teased, reaching up and covering Pete’s hands with his own.  He then did a quick tackle and got Pete underneath him, sliding his body down and burying his face in Pete’s bulging crotch.  He took a big sniff, head buzzing with the musky scent of Pete’s arousal.  “It makes me just want to eat you up.”

“I love you so much,” Pete murmured, running his hands through Vegas’s hair as Vegas nuzzled his erection, then unzipped Pete’s pants with his teeth.

“Hey, what’s simmering on the stove, Phi…? Oh my fucking god , at least close the door!” Macau’s voice exclaimed from the doorway.  “I’m a precious, innocent child, you know!”

Vegas groaned, rising to his knees with a push-up motion.  “I am making bone broth, if you must know.” He looked at Pete and raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling with evil merriment.  Pete burst into giggles, and Vegas joined him, until they were both laughing uproariously.  Vegas bowed back forward and wrapped his arms around Pete, laughing into his chest.  Pete was laughing so hard that he snorted, which caused them to dissolve further into breathless giggles.

“What the fuck…?” Macau rolled his eyes.  “If you’re going to do drugs, at least warn me first, or share!”

Vegas pursed his mouth so hard that his lips disappeared as he tried to control himself.  But one look at the delighted glimmer in Pete’s eyes, and Pete mouthing bone broth got him shaking with held-back cackles again.  They panted and gasped to try and get their breath back.

“Never mind, you fucking wackos.  I’m fucking going to the Main house for the night, then.”

“Have fun playing MahJong,” Vegas called as his little brother stormed off.

Pete snorted and they started giggling again.  He held Vegas against him tightly, their heartbeats rapid from the heady, breathless laughing.  “Darling, is it fucked up that we’re laughing about the minor cannibalism we did?”

“Yes.  Yes, my little monster.  It’s supremely fucked up.”  Vegas pressed his cheek to the side of Pete’s neck, feeling his pulse leaping under his skin.  He licked across it, wanting to taste Pete’s heartbeat, his life.  “Although, I don’t really think there can be such a thing as ‘minor’ cannibalism.”

“What’s the matter, babe?  You hardly touched your uncle’s raw bone marrow.”

Vegas snorted, biting back another laughing jag.  “Don’t you dare meme at me right now, Pete.  My abs hurt.”

“Are you really making bone broth though?”  Pete’s stomach quietly grumbled.

“Yeah.” Vegas smirked, sitting up and pulling Pete with him.  “Not human, though.”

Pete made a dramatic, disappointed noise, which got them laughing again.  When they settled down, they wiped tears off each other’s cheeks.  Pete caught a glimpse of the ring on his finger against the side of Vegas’s face, and tears sprung to his eyes again.

“Pete…?”

Pete smiled brightly.  “I’m so fucking happy, Vegas.”

Vegas nuzzled his face into Pete’s palm, turning his head so he could kiss it.

“I’ll take anything as long as you’re by my side, Vegas.  All the belt whips, all the mafia family wars, all the gunmen and assassins and dead uncles and minor cannibalism.”

“My little monster,” Vegas sighed into his husband’s palm, feeling the coolness of the wedding band against his cheek.

Pete leaned forward, whispering “we’re the only two people in the world, Vegas” before capturing his mouth in a kiss.

 

END

PS - So, I guess that’s it?  I’d only planned to write Tear You Apart, but then Bound came along, and then this story that wouldn’t end!  I thought that I would maybe write something down the road, but then I had a dream and a story blew out of me, so I’ll post that tomorrow (warning ahead of time - it's fucking D A R K)!  I also have other ideas down the road, like Chay and Macau finding the red room…

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Bloodlust