Work Text:
Vegas closed his eyes in pain as Tankhun’s warbling karaoke filled his ears. As someone intimately acquainted with torture, this probably could be used in the future. He would have spilled so many secrets at this moment just to make it end…
“You could at least pretend to be having fun,” a voice whispered in his ear. The best voice in the world. The only voice in the world that mattered. That perfect, grounding voice that sounded like home was admonishing, but laced with amusement.
“I’m still here, aren’t I? I feel like I’m doing pretty well,” he answered, still keeping his eyes closed. He wanted to remain in this dark world where Pete’s voice and Pete’s breath against his ear were the only things that existed.
“What, do you want a reward, Khun Kornwit?” Pete’s voice held laughter that made Vegas’s heart soar and his cock twitch. He began to cross his legs to hide it, but Pete’s fingers dug into his thigh to prevent it, knowing exactly what effect his voice had on Vegas.
“What kind of reward, Khun Phongsakorn?” Vegas breathed, turning his head and finally opening his eyes to look into Pete’s face. Fuck, he was so beautiful. How did he get so lucky to have Pete beside every day?
It will all end soon. He’ll realize the mistake he made.
Vegas’s eyes searched Pete’s face, drinking him in, drowning his senses in Pete to silence that voice that sounded too close to Gun’s for Vegas’s liking. That voice that he thought he’d pushed out of his life, but always came crawling back…
Pete’s smirk softened, and he couldn’t help the way he sighed and his body melted when he met Vegas’s gaze. The low lights of the bar painted the dramatic angles of Vegas’s cheekbones, lighting them in high contrast. His teeth flashed shark-white against his gorgeous lips. And the glitter in his eyes was meant only for Pete. Most people only saw cruelty, or at least that’s all they wanted to see, but Pete saw so much love. He saw the entire universe cast in Vegas’s coffee black eyes, the lights creating constellations and stardust. He saw the sheer force of Vegas’s love for him, unstoppable and all-consuming like a black hole.
And really, wasn’t that a metaphor for them? Vegas was a force that dragged everything into him, never letting go. Most people would try desperately to escape, but Pete had dived past the event horizon willingly. And he would fight to the death if anyone tried to pull him away from Vegas’s orbit. He knew people thought that they were toxic, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be toxic - their codependency made him feel complete.
“You’re thinking real hard about my reward there,” Vegas purred, reaching up and tracing Pete’s jugular with the barest whisper of a touch.
“Hmm?” Pete blinked and came back to reality. “I was just thinking about how much I love you.”
“Your love is my reward for putting up with this butchering of I Will Survive? I already have that, baby.”
“You fucker.” Pete bit his lip and dug his fingers into the muscle of Vegas’s thigh harder, hard enough that he knew he’d see the beginnings of a bruise tonight. The sudden image of Vegas standing between Pete’s open legs, bruise on full display for Pete to admire before Vegas railed him, lanced through his brain and burned in there like a brand.
Vegas must have sensed what Pete’s imagination had come up with, because that dark, lustful look came into his eyes that made Pete’s mouth go dry. “I think we should leave,” Vegas said. It wasn’t a request. That look in Pete’s eyes completely obliterated that nagging voice in the back of Vegas’s mind, pushing it back to the depths.
Pete’s bones liquified and he nodded eagerly. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it home for the first round. It wouldn’t be the first time that Vegas had to pull the bike over to somewhere secluded (or even semi-secluded), and fuck on the motorcycle because neither could wait.
“Must you molest my Pete in public?!” Tankhun asked acidly, thwapping Vegas on the head with his folding fan. They’d been so wrapped up in each other that they hadn’t noticed Tankhun approaching. Macau had taken his place, visibly drunk and truly massacring a song while Chay winced, but still filmed the whole thing anyway to use as blackmail when Macau was more sober.
“Yes,” Vegas answered, his voice like black velvet across Pete’s skin. Most couples would have separated, embarrassed at being so sexually charged in public. But not them. Never them. Let everyone else deal with their inexhaustible levels of horniness. “When you get a man to fuck you so good that you astral project, then you’ll know why we won’t stop,” Vegas continued, now pressing his fingers into Pete’s thigh, in a mirror of Pete’s own gesture. He dug in hard , kneading so that Pete had to fight like hell to not moan.
Tankhun gasped and smacked Vegas repeatedly on the back with his fan, then snapped it open, fluttering it in front of his face. His eyes flashed behind his amber glasses. “Cousin, you are so disgusting.”
“Even Chay and Macau are fucking, Tan. You should see what you’re missing,” Vegas goaded, not taking his eyes off Pete’s face as he continued pushing his fingers further into Pete’s flesh, marking him. He then moved his hand and twined his fingers with Pete’s, pulling him to his feet from his stool.
“Don’t remind me,” Tankhun snapped. “Oh, my poor little Chay. He’s too innocent for that.”
Pete couldn’t help but snort. Chay definitely wasn’t as innocent as everyone thought he was. Pete could sense one of his own…
“Hello there,” a smooth voice murmured over Macau’s heinous lack of singing ability. It had to be on purpose at this point.
Tankhun looked over to see a tall man smiling at him. His dark hair was slicked back off a handsome face, a pierced eyebrow cocked flirtatiously. He wore a nicely tailored red suit that accentuated a fit body. “Uh…” Tankhun stammered from behind his fan.
“I’m Jet,” the man said, moving further into Tankhun’s space. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to see the Tankhun Theerapanaykul here.”
“Do I know you?” Tankhun asked, body stiffening. He wasn’t a fan of strangers getting this close to him.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Vegas said insincerely as he led Pete to the door.
Pete looked over his shoulder at Tankhun and this man, sensing his former boss’s discomfort. Pol was also here so it wasn’t like Tankhun was in danger, at least not physically…
“I’m part of the Sukkasem clan,” Jet murmured. “Every time there’s a meeting of the families, we always wonder if Tankhun Theerapanyakul is going to be there.” His eyes trailed up and down Tankhun’s lithe body, decked out in a skintight leopard-print turtleneck bodysuit with a cut-out back and low-slung loose black pants that accentuated his slim waist. “I must say that you don’t disappoint. You are lovely.”
Tankhun bit his lip and continued to hide half his face behind his fan. He knew he should probably say thank-you for the compliment, but Jet’s stare made him feel uneasy. Like he wasn’t appreciating Tankhun’s fashion sense or even his body, but rather devouring him. Consuming him. Weighing his worth based on how ‘fuckable’ Jet thought he was - that was the word he’d heard Porsche use once. Or, was he just imagining it? It’s not like he had a bunch of experience talking to strangers, and had zero experience flirting.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Khun Vegas,” Jet continued. Tankhun didn’t know if Jet was oblivious to his discomfort, or if that’s what caused him to move closer. He began to flash back to when he’d been kidnapped. One of the kidnappers had relished in how afraid Tankhun had become when he’d loom into his personal space, and did it more because he enjoyed the fear that had rolled off Tankhun’s young body in waves. Jet had that same gleam in his gaze now, and the room began to feel both freezing cold and oppressively hot against Tankhun’s bared back.
“Oh…?” he croaked out.
“It’s a shame if it’s true - that someone who looks so lovely and smells so delicious wouldn’t be drowning in men. Have you ever thought about seeing what you’re missing, so to speak?”
“And who might you be?” Pol asked, his normally friendly voice anything but as he slapped a hand down on Jet’s shoulder. He usually had the air of a big golden retriever, but in situations like this, he used his height to great advantage and he looked exceptionally intimidating.
Jet’s silken smile stiffened, but he kept it plastered on as he turned to face Pol. “Oh, I’m Jet. I was just paying my respects to this very lovely gentleman.”
“You’ve paid them,” Pol said. “Khun Noo doesn’t want you hanging around.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Jet said amiably, though he still kept a wary eye on the tall bodyguard. “Is it, Khun Noo…?” he pitched his voice to a deeper, more seductive octave.
Tankhun kept his face hidden behind his fan, rendered speechless as he struggled to stay in this time and place and not fall backwards into that cold, dark room where all he’d wanted was his father to come tell him that he was safe. Sometimes that’s all he’d wanted out of life, but it had never happened. Korn hadn’t even been the one to come take Tankhun home. It had actually been Uncle Gun of all people. It would have been the only time that Tankhun had been glad to see him, if he hadn’t been splattered in blood and stinking of murder. Just like when he’d come to try to take over the Main Family with Vegas.
“I think that’s all the answer you need,” Pol said firmly, pulling Jet away.
Jet took the hint, but reached out and ran his index finger up the back of Tankhun’s hand. “Your bodyguard is persistent, though I hope we meet again.”
“See?” Vegas said into Pete’s ear, starting to get a little exasperated and a lot horny. “Tankhun is fine. Pol is doing his job - for once.”
Pete’s shoulders only relaxed in tandem with his former boss’s body language when the man was removed from Tankhun’s company. Pete let himself be led away by his husband, mind now free to be preoccupied with much nicer thoughts - like the feeling of Vegas’s large erection just pounding into him.
“Leaving already?” Cello asked from her seat in a booth that gave her ample view of the entire bar. Chay’s bodyguard Tomb sat next to her.
Vegas shook his head when she started to rise. “We’ll be fine to get to the house alone. You stay here and keep an eye on Beyoncé over there.” He jerked his head back towards the stage and Macau’s ‘performance’.
Cello nodded. “We’ll be sure that he never lives it down.” Vegas finally dragged Pete out of the bar as Tomb held up her phone to Cello. “I found a place that will make fake Grammy statues.”
Cello’s loud, boisterous laughter followed them out into the night air. Pete sighed happily as he got on the back of the bike behind Vegas, wrapping his arms around his husband and pressing his face into his leather jacket. The smell of Vegas, coupled with the rumbling of the motorcycle’s engine, caused a small moan to escape from him as they took off towards home. Vegas always drove a little too fast, and it made Pete’s heart soar. He felt like he was flying, like he was lighter than he’d ever been in his entire life.
Pete noticed that Vegas’s body language seemed a little stiff. Pete wanted to ask him about it, but it was kind of hard to have a conversation on the back of a motorcycle in traffic. He looked around to see if any car seemed to be following them, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary as they zipped and weaved past the cars. So, he just held Vegas tighter and pressed his growing erection into Vegas’s ass, rutting his hips for friction. He felt Vegas suck in his breath and his body relax, and the engine revved as they went faster. Pete’s laughter was carried away by the roaring wind.
See, you’re being fucking stupid, Vegas told himself as he felt Pete’s laughter more than heard it. He accelerated just near the point of it being dangerous, needing to get home and get his hands on that bulge that was grinding against him. Pete’s here with you. He’s on the back of this bike. He’s your husband. He’s laughing and he loves you and he’s pressing his boner against your ass. He doesn’t want to go back to Tankhun and the Main Family.
Are you sure? That second internal voice asked. The one that sounded like his father. The one that pointed out that everyone who ever loved him had either left or was lying about it. The one that just loved to bring up everything he’d ever done wrong in life.
The closer they got to the Minor Family compound, the more Pete’s hands began to roam. When they’d slid over Vegas’s crotch, he’d nearly swerved the bike into the back of a bus. That hadn’t stopped him, though. By the time Vegas rolled the motorcycle into the garage, Pete’s hands were up under his jacket and shirt, cool against Vegas’s now hot skin.
“Get out,” Pete commanded the guard in the garage as he flung his helmet off to the side and began pulling Vegas’s jacket off with an urgency bordering on hysteria before the engine had even fully stopped.
The staff of the Minor compound were used enough to their masters now that he didn’t ask twice, and made himself scarce. Pete knocked Vegas’s helmet out of his hands and groaned as he ran his hands through Vegas’s helmet-messed hair. He licked a searing path up the back of Vegas’s neck, hands fully tugging Vegas’s shirt up so he could get at more bare flesh. “Vegas,” he groaned, biting and sucking a path up the side of Vegas’s neck. He buried his face in Vegas’s hair and inhaled the scent of him. It made him feel more drunk and alive than any alcohol in his system. “I need you so fucking bad,” he keened. “Please, Vegas…”
Vegas rolled his head back against Pete’s shoulder, losing himself in Pete’s ministrations. Pete’s hands now fumbled with his belt and fly. “What do you need me to do to you?” he asked, loving when Pete begged.
“I need you inside me,” Pete moaned, slipping his hand into Vegas’s pants. He hissed when he gripped the hard heat of Vegas’s erection. “Fuck me,” he demanded as he started jerking him off slowly.
“We just had sex this afternoon…” Vegas pointed out teasingly, trying to keep his voice neutral. It wasn’t going well.
“Too long ago,” Pete grunted. With his free hand, he turned Vegas’s face so their lips could meet in a sloppy union somewhere akin to a kiss. Their tongues slaked together, muffling their moans within each other’s mouths.
Either to silence that stupid fucking voice lurking in the depths of his mind, or just because he could and because he fucking loved Pete so much that he couldn’t help himself, Vegas stood up and yanked himself out of Pete’s eager arms and got off the bike so he could have better access to Pete’s body. Pete mewled in disappointment, his kiss-bruised lips pouting. But they turned up in a big smile when Vegas grabbed him around the waist and manhandled him off the bike, mouth claiming the skin of Pete’s throat with wet kisses and savage bites before kissing him deeply once more.
Pete wrapped his legs around Vegas’s waist, sucking on Vegas’s tongue as he wantonly moaned into the embrace. He nearly came on the spot when Vegas dumped him unceremoniously on the hood of one of their cars. The metal popped under him, and Pete distantly wondered if they’d have to take it to the body shop. Actually, he hoped they would have to. The idea of the mechanic seeing the dent and knowing it was because Pete got fucked on the hood of the car made his eyes roll back in his head.
He kicked off his shoes as his shaking hands made sloppy, hasty work of his belt, pants, and underwear. Pete’s mouth watered as he watched Vegas toss his jacket and shirt across the room until he stood shirtless between Pete’s spread legs. “How are you so fucking gorgeous?” Pete whined, wrapping his now bare legs around Vegas’s waist again, dragging him closer. He moaned and his nails scrabbled against Vegas’s perfect, sculpted abs as Vegas’s erection dragged against the underside of his scrotum. “I need you inside me, Vegas. Please.”
Vegas smirked and bowed forward, licking up the center of Pete’s throat. He felt the vibration of Pete’s moans against his tongue. He kept his face in an amused expression, but he knew that his eyes gave away the fireworks inside his body at being this close to Pete. No matter how many times he touched, tasted, or explored Pete’s body, it would never be enough. Each touch they shared, each moment they were together, made Vegas want Pete more. Love Pete more.
“I love you so fucking much, Pete,” Vegas groaned against his husband’s adam’s apple. He put two of his fingers into his mouth and heavily drooled on them as he breathed in the smell of Pete’s skin. His own flesh sang and tingled when Pete moaned and arched off the car when Vegas pushed the saliva-slicked fingers into him. Those moans echoed Vegas’s declaration of love without words.
Because they’d had sex only a few hours earlier, Pete’s muscles yielded easily to Vegas’s fingers. But, his body would have yielded even without that, Pete craved Vegas so badly. The desire that burned through him was less of a want and more of a need . He fucking needed Vegas inside him. He needed Vegas to fuck him and fill him and complete him. It had only been a few hours but he needed it like a drug. Without Vegas, Pete was missing something. He panted and chased Vegas’s fingers when the other man pulled them out. The groan that ripped from his throat echoed through the garage when he watched Vegas spit into his hand and coat his dick with saliva.
And when Vegas finally slid into him, to the hilt in one thrust, Pete finally felt whole again. He reached up and gripped the sides of Vegas’s face as Vegas began fucking him with a truly brutal pace - just the way that Pete liked it. His shirt rode up with each thrust, and his now bared back squeaked against the metal of the car. Pete’s fingers dug into Vegas’s cheeks as he made Vegas look into his eyes and nowhere else. Pete’s moans grew louder with each thrust, Vegas pistoning right into his prostate and making his vision blacken around the edges. But he didn’t stare anywhere other than Vegas’s eyes. He wanted Vegas to see the pleasure in his eyes. He wanted Vegas to see the want and the need. He wanted Vegas to see the moment when he came because of him.
“Come in me, Vegas,” Pete panted between moans. “Please, baby. Come in me. I need it. I need you to come in me,” he begged. The idea of Vegas’s semen exploding in him, paired with the forceful thrusts into his prostate, made Pete come untouched. As Vegas kept fucking him into overstimulation, Pete still whispered “come in me” over and over again.
“Pete,” Vegas whispered reverently, watching Pete fall apart, semen splattering up his belly. Vegas dragged his fingers up Pete’s now sensitive cock, tracing around and tugging at the Jacob’s Ladder piercings. It caused Pete to make desperate, high-pitched noises as he writhed under Vegas. But he kept his hands flanked on the sides of Vegas’s face, staring up with glassy, fucked-out eyes. He was so goddamn fucking beautiful that it made Vegas’s heart stutter to the point of pain.
Vegas tugged at the barbells as he thrust into Pete’s hole, which spasmed around him, his thighs burning with the exertion. Vegas’s eyes tracked the tears that trickled down Pete’s temples as Vegas kept thrusting up into his prostate and he kept stroking Pete’s soft, pierced cock.
“Come in me,” Pete pleaded again, rocking his hips up to match Vegas’s thrusts even though he was so sensitive it hurt. It hurt so fucking good that Pete’s body chased the sensation on an unconscious level. Pete’s sweat-drenched skin squeaked against the car hood, his semen streaking between their wet torsos with each thrust. He moved his fingers into Vegas’s hair and gripped hard - it was the only thing he could do to keep holding onto the other man as his body shook so hard under Vegas.
“Fuck, Pete,” Vegas gasped, burying his face in the side of Pete’s neck. He licked at the heavenly, salty taste of his sweaty flesh. “You feel so fucking good. I love you so fucking much,” he rambled. “I love you,” he repeated. “I love you, I love you, loveyouloveyouloveyou…”
Pete turned his head, rubbing the side of his face against Vegas’s. “Come in me,” he said again in a tiny, hoarse voice. But it wasn’t a plea this time. It was a demand. A demand that Vegas’s body complied with eagerly. A long, primal moan ripped from Pete’s core as he felt Vegas’s come fill his asshole. It seemed to burn him, sear him, complete him. “You make me feel so good, Vegas. You fuck me so good, baby,” he whispered, smiling tiredly into the side of Vegas’s neck. He felt Vegas’s racing, fluttering pulse against the corner of his mouth. “I love how you fuck me.”
He knew that Vegas had a praise kink, but he was a little surprised at the whimper that Vegas let out into his clavicle. It sounded so raw and desperate. He knew that Vegas sometimes really needed the praise - not just on a sexual level, but a deeply psychological one. He needed Pete to help him get out of his own way sometimes. He needed Pete’s love and trust because it was something he’d never had in his life. He’d never been allowed to completely trust in someone’s love, not even Macau’s. He’d had to be too worried about protecting Macau from Gun to allow vulnerability from his younger brother.
“I love you,” Pete whispered, thinking of the stiffness of Vegas’s body language on the bike earlier. “I love you, Vegas.”
Vegas wrapped his arms tight around Pete’s waist and burrowed his face deeper into the side of Pete’s neck. He wrestled for control of himself before raising his head to look into Pete’s flushed, beautiful face. It was split in a huge, content smile that could have turned the night into day. He didn’t want Pete to see any doubt in his eyes. He wanted Pete to see only love and trust and euphoria. “So, now what?” Vegas asked with a raised eyebrow, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. The way that Pete’s fingers gently ran through his hair though… Pete probably knew what Vegas was feeling. He always seemed to.
“Now what?” Pete echoed. “Now… I wait for my legs to be able to support me. Then we’ll go to bed and 69 each other until our jaws are so sore we can’t talk.”
“Oh, will we?” Vegas asked, resting his chin on Pete’s sternum as he felt his own come drip down his inner thigh from within Pete’s body.
“Yes, we will. Are you really going to deny me?” Pete asked loftily with a cocked eyebrow.
Vegas gave a soft smile, the type that was reserved as a gift only for Pete. “Never.”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“You’re doing great,” Macau encouraged his elder cousin as he pressed a cool glass of water into Tankhun’s fingers, which were covered in a delicate pair of black lace gloves. Tankhun’s plain black suit was uncharacteristically conservative for him, but he still showed his personality in small flashes of fashion. His usual attire would have drawn too much attention, and Tankhun wanted to try to be as inconspicuous as possible for someone with as grand a personality as he possessed.
“You don’t have to patronize me,” Tankhun hissed, but he gratefully gulped down the water. His journey outside of his small world of the Main Family home had started with Porsche taking him to Yok’s bar, and as the seismic changes spread through their lives, Tankhun tried to move along with them as best he could. This was the first family function he’d been to as an adult, and wanted to do nothing but bolt home and hide under his blankets while watching k-dramas. But his stupid annoying cousin wouldn’t let him.
“I’m not patronizing you,” Macau insisted. “I’m encouraging you.” Macau grinned devilishly into his wine glass.
“From you, it feels like the same thing,” Tankhun snapped. But, Macau’s presence was extremely comforting - not that he would ever tell him that.
“Mac’s right. You’re doing really well,” Chay said, looking around the lavishly decorated ballroom with shining eyes. “I had forgotten that it was almost Christmas. It looks pretty,” he said, admiring the lovely decorations the hotel had set up. White lights strung together with full garlands of pine boughs and iced berry clusters with gold ribbon clung to surfaces and created romantic lighting along with clusters of candles. A giant real evergreen stood in the entryway, festooned with gold and silver ornaments with gift boxes in pretty paper spilling out from underneath. In Chay’s opinion, it was kind of a waste of money to have this giant tree dying in the middle of some bougie ballroom, but it was very pretty. He kinda felt that was a metaphor for this whole lifestyle - flinging wealth around to show others how much of it you had that you could spend thousands on some pine trees.
Chay knew he wasn’t here in any kind of real Theerapanyakul capacity, but rather as a babysitter for Tankhun. But that was perfectly fine with him. After a few conversations with these drunk chuckleheads, standing in the corner holding Macau’s hand while they kept Tankhun company was the far better option. It didn’t hurt that Macau was wearing a dark green suit that showed off his amazing body perfectly, and had decided to not wear a shirt under the suit.
Macau, who had been staring at Chay and thinking less than pure thoughts about him in this slicked back hair and sleek black suit and turtleneck that he sported with emerald stud earrings to match Macau’s suit, noticed that a throng of drunk mafioso were starting to expand to their safe corner. “Yes, the decorations are pretty, but I’m sure that you would have done something different, Cousin?” He smirked. “I know you love to profess that you’re an incredible interior decorator.”
“I am an incredible decorator, Macau. There is no professing. It is a simple fact. Gold and silver? Pfft.” Tankhun snorted. “Basic choices. May as well be red and green with the waiters in flannel Santa Claus outfits.” He gestured towards the giant tree. “Now, something with a champagne and iced pink tone would have been more on trend…”
Chay smiled and leaned into Macau’s side. “I saw what you did there,” he whispered into his boyfriend’s ear.
“Hmm?” Macau cocked an eyebrow and looked into Chay’s eyes. In, and a little up. Chay had grown so now he was the taller of the two.
“Distracting him because of the crowd. You’re kinda awesome, you know.”
“Uh, obviously,” Macau deadpanned, giving Chay a mockingly incredulous look. “You should see how many of my classmates are astounded by my linguistic ability. Especially this girl named Lulu…”
Chay screwed his face into a furious expression and repeatedly pinched Macau’s side. “You. Better. Not. Be. Flirting. With. Your. Classmates!” Chay hissed, trying to keep up the mock anger, but he couldn’t help but smile at Macau’s breathy laughter.
“It’s nice to see you so happy, Khun Macau.”
Macau turned when someone addressed him, raising a quizzical eyebrow when he didn’t recognize the man.
“I saw you a few weeks ago at the bar. You were singing karaoke.”
“Wasn’t he fantastic?” Chay teased.
“Uhhh….” The man didn’t seem to know how to answer that without insulting Macau. “Yes,” he spit out. “Amazing.”
Chay laughed as Macau rolled his eyes.
“My name is Jet, of the Sukkasems. Are you here in place of Khun Vegas? I noticed he wasn’t here.” He gave a somewhat respectful bow, and turned to look at Tankhun, whose lips were pursed so tight they had vanished. “Nice to see you again. You look ravishing, Khun Noo.”
Macau now also frowned. “Hia had business, but P’Pete is here - you know, the other head of the Minor Family.”
“Oh, forgive me. I suppose it’s hard to switch after years of seeing Pete around as a bodyguard.” Jet turned to Tankhun. “He was your bodyguard, correct?”
“Yes,” Tankhun squeaked out, desperately wishing for his fan. He felt like his face was on fire. Part of him was flattered that Jet’s admittedly handsome eyes raked over him, that Jet found him so desirable that he had to seek him out again. But another part of him felt slimy and uncomfortable. Is this what flirting was supposed to normally feel like? He felt both cold and hot, and he was sure that Jet could read every thought on his face, and it made him feel embarrassed and curious and confused and conflicted.
They made situations like this look so much easier in dramas - either romantic music would play in the background, and Tankhun would swoon, or they would have a funny quip at the ready. He never normally had a problem trying to find cutting words, but he just stood there like a fool as Jet’s grin widened at Tankhun’s silence.
“Yo man, I think you should go somewhere else,” Macau said darkly.
“The adults are having a conversation,” Jet murmured condescendingly, staring unblinking at Tankhun’s face. The pink flush to his cheeks made his pupils dilate, eyes black like a shark.
Macau raised his eyebrows. “Is that how you wanna talk to me?” he asked in English. People talking down to the Minor Family was a particular trigger for both Vegas and Macau - as if they weren’t worth the spare words, as if they were just goons not worth the time. It was something that hadn’t quite gone away, not even with Gun’s death and the consolidation of the Theerapayakuls. It now included treating Pete like either still a bodyguard or a fuck toy, and not the co-head of the Family. It also hadn’t gone unnoticed to Macau that this absolute fucker hadn’t used honorifics to address Pete.
Jet’s eyes darted to Macau, and he seemed to remember himself. “Forgive me if you thought I was disrespecting you, Khun Macau. I just wish to keep talking to Khun Noo.”
Macau sucked the inside of his cheek to not just start punching him in his stupid angular face. Vegas was the one that was known for the violence, but that same blood ran in Macau’s veins. He felt Chay’s hand squeeze around his, and that red rage receded. “You’re making him uncomfortable.”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Tankhun gasped out and rushed towards the doors leading out of the ballroom.
Chay started to go after him, but Macau kept a tight grip on his hand. “He’ll be fine,” he assured. But it was because he saw a flash of a white suit in his peripheral vision following the eldest Theerapanyakul son.
“It’s always nice to see you, Khun Macau. And Porchay, as well.”
“Khun Porchay,” Macau corrected acidly. “Such familiarity from a clan that’s under ours, hmm?” Macau knew very well that the Sukkasems were a street level gang that Vegas sometimes dealt with. This guy was obviously new and trying to throw his weight around as a big shot, and doing it as a way of masking his embarrassment at Tankhun not fawning all over him.
“Of course.” Jet bowed, his eyes flashing with brief dislike that he failed to hide. “If you’ll excuse me…” he sauntered away towards the bar, throwing extra swagger into his step as if he’d left the conversation with the upper hand.
“What a prick.” Chay muttered. “You okay?” he asked, as Macau still squeezed his hand, nearly to the painful side of tight.
“I’m used to it,” Macau muttered. “When you’re a kid, these low-level fuckers always try to show dominance over you. As if Pran Sukkasem wouldn’t be sucking both our dicks to curry favor if I asked him to.”
“At the same time? Which one is he again…?” Chay laughed. Macau’s grip lessened on his hand and he stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “I guess I’d be able to pick him out though, with a mouth that large…”
“Oh my God,” Macau breathed in English. “Did you know that Porsche kinda did the same thing?”
“What? Sucked your dick?”
“No! Chay, gross! No!” he swatted his laughing boyfriend. “He punched me the first time we met. I almost got him killed.”
“I know,” Chay said after he’d stopped giggling. “Porsche told me as a warning to not hang out with you. As if that would stop me. I think I did it just to make him madder.”
“Well, I’m glad to be your revenge fuck, Khun Porchay.” Macau raised his glass in cheers.
Chay sobered. “I don’t trust that Jet guy - he gives off rapist vibes. You think we should follow Khun Noo? We’re supposed to be his bodyguards tonight.”
“I don’t trust him either…” Macau watched as Jet slipped out of the ballroom. “But don’t worry. Tankhun’s not alone, and I know that you don’t want to witness what’s going to happen to him.”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
“You can do this,” Tankhun whispered to his reflection, water dripping down his nose and the sides of his face from where he’d splashed water, his lace gloves discarded to the side. “You don’t need Macau here to hold your hand.”
But he really kind of wanted Macau in here to hold his hand. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe this was too much of a step. Maybe he should have started smaller…
“Treat it like a meeting in the boardroom at home,” he said, bowing his head and taking deep, measured breaths as he imagined his breathing app in his mind - the colored waves rolling up and down to time breathing. Up and down. Up and down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Don’t think about the kidnappers crowding around him and laughing as he cried. Breathe out. Don’t think about Uncle Gun opening the door to his makeshift prison, covered in gore and shaking his head in disappointment, like Tankhun had wasted his time. Breathe in. Don’t think about how small the room felt with all those people crowded into it. Breathe out. Breathe in . Don’t think about Jet’s eyes raking over him with that knowing look. Tankhun knew that look, even if he was so very inexperienced about sex. He’d known what that look meant when the one kidnapper who’d loved his discomfort had focused it on him, and he knew it now.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Finally alone,” that voice whispered in his ear.
Tankhun gasped and raised his face. Jet stood behind him, arms bracketed around Tankhun on the sink’s marble counter. His body was pressed flush to Tankhun’s back, without any room for misunderstanding on Jet’s intentions.
“I’d like you to step back,” Tankhun commanded, trying desperately to put some iron into his tone. But, the breathy way his voice cracked didn’t hold the authority he wanted. He stared at Jet through the mirror. Jet’s eyes were hooded and amused, while his own were wide and glassy in the harsh fluorescent light.
“Is that what you really want?” Jet asked, leaning in to breathe the question into Tankhun’s ear. “I think you’re curious. You did separate yourself from those children, didn’t you?” Jet pressed his hips against Tankhun’s ass, rolling them.
Tankhun sucked in his breath as he felt Jet’s growing erection.
“You think going to the bathroom was permission…?” Tankhun could taste the adrenaline on his tongue, and all his breathing exercises flew out the window when he tried to push out of the prison of Jet’s arms, and couldn’t. He tried to gulp in oxygen when he felt Jet’s hands press against his hips, digging his fingers in and pushing Tankhun painfully against the sink’s lip.
“Is that what you were doing?” Jet asked, letting his lips trail up the nape of Tankhun’s neck. “Going to the bathroom? Are you sure about that, beautiful…? You were sending me such signals…”
“I wasn’t…” Tankhun panted out. Or was he without even knowing…? The lights were so bright and the sink dripping sounded like gunshots in his ears, Jet’s fingers burning into his skin like hot knives.
“I promise you’ll like it. I’ll make you feel good, sweetheart.” Jet looked at their reflections and grinned, wolfish and victorious.
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” a smooth voice murmured behind them.
Jet stiffened and wheeled around. There stood a man in a white suit with a sheer lace shirt underneath, a choker of gold and diamonds glittering around his throat. Gold glitter was streaked in his hair and lined around his eyes, lips shining with gold-tinted gloss. He would have looked ethereal and seraphic, lest the dark, evil look in his eyes. “Oh, Khun Pete. I didn’t see you there. As you can see, Khun Noo and I were getting further acquainted.”
Tankhun tried desperately to wrangle his breath into something calmer. He should have been glad that Pete came in like a literal white knight, but he felt nothing but shame. Pete had seen him vulnerable like this in the past, but somehow he still felt like he’d done something he shouldn’t have.
“I’ve called a car for you, Tankhun. Get Chay and Macau to go home with you. I hear that Wednesday on Netflix is really good. Maybe you can watch that.” Pete’s gaze never left Jet.
“As if I haven’t already started.” Tankhun meant to scoff, but it came out squeaky and cracked. A tear trickled down his cheek as he gripped the counter hard enough his fingers were pure white.
“Of course you have,” Pete said fondly. His tone flew in the face of the promise of pain in his eyes. “You’ll have to call me tomorrow and tell me all about it.” His eyes briefly flicked away from Jet. “Go on. Don’t worry - Jet won’t follow you. He and I are going to have a chat.”
Tankhun nodded and slowly turned and gave Jet a wide berth. He looked down as he passed Pete, not wanting to see that… thing behind his gaze. The thing that he wanted to blame on Vegas, but he knew had always been there. Even before the bathroom door swung shut behind him, Tankhun was pulling out his phone and texting Chay. Home, home, home, home homehomehomehome. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I hear you don’t want people to think of you as a bodyguard anymore, Khun Pete. And yet, here you are, Tankhun’s bodyguard again. We were just having a nice, quiet chat.” Jet puffed his chest out, but his eyes darted to the door.
Pete stood perfectly still, letting the silence stretch out, which only increased Jet’s nervous gestures. He ran a hand through his hair a third time to fix it. He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. He shuffled his feet.
“Khun Pran wouldn’t be appreciative of you starting a clan war just to defend a grown adult who was doing grown adult things.”
Pete chuckled softly. “It’s so cute how much you overestimate yourself.” Pete then moved so fast that Jet had no hope in reacting, and uppercut the other man. Jet’s head snapped back and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he slumped down against the marble counter, bumping his head as he slid to the floor.
He bowed over Jet and gently patted his cheek. “I’m sure this wasn’t what you had planned for this evening, but I guarantee at least one of us will enjoy it.”
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Vegas sighed and rolled his head as he walked down the hallway towards his bedroom. He felt a satisfying crack. There was nothing like dealing with the posturing bullshit of Triad bullshit in regards to missing heroin to make Vegas’s temper short.
Papa could have dealt with this faster, you know? The Triads were always terrified of him. You’re such a fuckup.
Vegas shook his head to silence that nagging voice that he’d been fighting with for the past few weeks. He’d mostly been successful, but it just wouldn’t let him be happy. The fact that Pete had texted him a nude photo over his shoulder, ass on full display, was the only thing saving him from falling into a truly dark mood. He could not wait to go tongue deep into that fucking perfect ass. After a boring ballroom dinner with the underworld, Pete was probably ready to get wild . And Vegas needed that. He needed Pete to need him, to want him, to crave him.
“Vegas…?” Pete called from within their bedroom as he got nearer, voice drifting out like a seductive siren song. There was a laughing lilt in his tone that made Vegas involuntarily growl low in his throat. Why was Pete so fucking sexy all the time?
Vegas was already unbuttoning his shirt as he came into the room, but his fingers froze as he saw Pete standing there, fully nude. Normally, that was enough to stop Vegas dead in his tracks, but the blood splattered across Pete’s torso and streaked on his hands and cheek made Vegas freeze in surprise. His libido kicked into overdrive and he lost the capacity for rational thought.
“Baby,” Pete murmured, eyes glimmering with love and lust. “You look so hot.”
“Whuuu…” Vegas shook his head, coming back to himself. “It looks like your evening wasn’t as boring as I thought it would be.” His eyes raked across the blood smears, but he still also let them linger on Pete’s cock, which twitched to half-hardness.
Pete laughed, bridging the gap between them. His bloody fingers reached out and undid the remaining buttons on Vegas’s shirt. He gave Vegas a slow, sensual kiss. “I missed you, Vegas.” He smiled into the kiss. “I’ve been waiting for you to get back so you could help me decorate the Christmas tree.”
“Huh…?” Vegas garbled into Pete’s mouth, wrapping his arms around Pete’s waist. The blood that was now smearing on his chest from Pete’s fingers was still wet and fresh. Pete’s lips then trailed down his throat as the shirt was shed to the floor. Vegas’s eyes slid shut in pleasure. “Wait… we have a Christmas tree…?”
Pete laughed again and nipped at Vegas’s adam’s apple. His bloodied hands then made work of the rest of Vegas’s clothes, until he was just as naked as Pete. Vegas’s pale flesh was smeared with the red passage of Pete’s touch. He pulled back and bit his lip in delight as he gripped Vegas’s hand, tugging him along towards the entrance to the red room. “Come with me.”
Vegas’s skin buzzed with anticipation as he let Pete lead him into the room, his eyes drinking in the way the light painted Pete’s nude flesh. He’d seen it hundreds of times, and it thrilled him every single time. Every single fucking time. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Pete’s middle just to get more of their flesh touching. His lips kissed every part of the back of Pete’s shoulders that he could reach as his hands explored as well. His hands kneaded into the gorgeous curve of Pete’s ass, slipping his fingers between his cheeks. He groaned against Pete’s shoulder when he felt lube. “You prepped for me already? You slut.”
Pete keened, reaching back to grip Vegas’s hair and give him a deep, messy kiss. “Impatient boys don’t get their presents from Santa. Are you a naughty boy?”
Vegas snorted. “We are both at the top of the list of naughty children, Pete. Santa is too terrified of being dissected to come here.”
“Funny you should say that…” Pete trailed off, pulling Vegas past the swing and the St. Andrew’s Cross, towards the white room. The overhead lights were off, but a gentle glow came from within. “Ta da! Our Christmas tree!” Pete spread out his bloodied hands, a big smile on his face. “You would have been so proud of how well I snuck up on him. Your stealth lessons are paying off,” Pete said with a self-deprecating laugh.
The romantic illumination of the small white Christmas lights highlighted Pete’s face in a soft glow that made Vegas’s heart swell. If he weren’t already so utterly, desperately, completely, and irreversibly in love with Pete, he would have fallen in love with him at that moment. There were boxes of ornaments and lights strewn around the floor at the feet of a chained man. His arms were raised above his head, and his legs were spread to create a triangle, evergreen-like shape. Lights were looped around him, as well as threaded within his skin. Pieces of flesh were peeled away to make room for the wires and tiny lights. Some of them rested under the skin, and gently illuminated through the flesh. Others cast starker reflections against the man’s skin, wet with terrified sweat. Pete had slapped a giant red bow on top of his head as a tree-topper and Vegas couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the entire situation.
Vegas cocked his head when he regarded their tree’s face. “This guy looks familiar…”
“His name is Jet.” Pete patted a flayed shoulder, digging wires and lights further into the exposed muscle. “He thinks that he’s big shit just because he works for the Sukkasem crew.”
Vegas reached out and gripped Jet’s chin. A jaunty bell had been hung from his eyebrow ring, and a few small gold glass balls pierced through the skin of his collarbone. They clanked together as Jet struggled meekly, half-unconscious from pain.
“Hmm…” Vegas trailed off, his memory being jogged. Jet at Yok’s bar, Macau doing something not even close to singing in the background. Jet getting all in Tankhun’s space. Pete’s stiff body language. Pete, still watching out for his old boss. Pete, rescuing Tankhun again.
I told you this would happen , that voice hissed in his mind. Once again he tried to ignore his inner saboteur, but today with the Triads and the missing heroin had crumbled his resolve. His father would have been able to get out of the meeting much faster. His father would have never let it happen in the first place. Neither would Kinn. The Triads would be kissing Kinn’s feet instead of being smart-asses. They wouldn’t see Kinn as the violent worm of the Minor Family. Gun would have put the fear of all gods in them.
Your father would have punched you for today, you know that? And now Pete is starting to see it, too. He’s showing you that Tankhun is still more important to him. You’ll never be number one to anyone. Not even Macau. Even he would choose Porchay over you.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at Jet’s face. He used a finger to poke the bell, causing it to sway and tinkle in such a happy way that flew in the face of the roiling blackness inside him.
It was nice while it lasted, though. Even Mom didn’t stay, so why should Pete?
Vegas’s hand shot out like a viper, wrapping around that little bell. The thin metal crushed in his grip, and he yanked it down. It ripped out the eyebrow piercing, the blood splattering across Vegas’s clenched jaw, as hot as a slap. Jet garbled out a scream and looked up at Vegas with wide, agonized eyes. But Vegas didn’t see some low-level fuck who thought he could run with the big mafia guns. He saw Gun, staring up at him with taunting eyes. Useless as your fucking mother . He saw Kinn smirking at him, gloating. Always the perfect heir. Always everything that Vegas never could be. He saw Tankhun, finally convincing Pete that he didn’t belong here, with the dregs of the Minor Family.
Pete’s smile at watching Vegas regard their captive froze when Vegas ripped the bell off Jet’s eyebrow, his posture changing completely. Vegas then punched Jet in the clavicle, shattering the small gold ornaments. The delicate glass splintered under the force of Vegas’s punch, but he didn’t even seem to notice as he began to furiously beat Jet. His collarbone crunched under the assault, shards of gold glass stuck in Vegas’s knuckles as Jet’s bones splintered out through the skin, cutting Vegas’s hand further. Blood splattered from the both of them.
“Vegas!” Pete shouted. This wasn’t the Vegas he had come to know. Even with all the violence they’d wrought together as heads of the Minor Family (even before that), this Vegas hadn’t shown himself. The last time Pete had seen this Vegas, it had been in the safehouse, and his skin had been ripped open by Vegas’s belt. This Vegas had crumbled when Pete had cut his own palms with a knife. “Vegas!” Pete shouted again.
Useless. Worthless. Unlovable. Everyone leaves you. And you fucking deserve it. You deserve it. He didn’t even realize he was screaming in tune with the blood rushing in his ears. He didn’t feel the pain of the glass crunching further into his skin with every punch. He just wanted that voice to fucking stop. Bone and cartilage and facial structure collapsed under Vegas’s fury. One of the ornament shards stuck in Vegas’s knuckle lanced through one of Jet’s eyes, causing it to explode thick, viscous liquid down the ruined planes of his face.
Pete reached out and grabbed Vegas’s wrists to yank him away from Jet, who was now unconscious with a half caved-in face. “Vegas!” Pete yelled into his husband’s face. Vegas’s eyes were wild and furious. Anyone else would have been terrified of Vegas at this moment - he did indeed look terrifying. But Pete wasn’t afraid of Vegas. He was afraid for Vegas. He was worried that in this state, Vegas would hurt himself, that he would fall too deep into himself and have trouble finding his way back.
“Just fucking SHUT UP!” Vegas screamed in Pete’s face, not even seeing the other man there anymore. He only saw red. He only saw failure. He charged forward, he and Pete slamming into the wall.
Pete gasped in shock as his breath shunted out of him. But it wasn’t because Vegas had tackled him, and it wasn’t because of that crazed, feral look in his eyes. It was because upon impact, he’d ejaculated. He’d been half-hard earlier, and hadn’t even realized he’d gotten to full hardness, let alone that he would come because of Vegas tackling him. His body involuntarily went limp in Vegas’s crushing grip. His body, his soul , wanted to yield to Vegas’s fury, to submit to it.
“Vegas,” Pete said again, as a whimper. As a reverent plea. He wasn’t afraid of Vegas’s anger. He leaned towards it, wanting to absorb it so Vegas wouldn’t have to.
“You’re mine,” Vegas growled, gripping Pete’s chin, gaze drilling into Pete’s. But the fury was cracking into desperation. “You’re mine,” Vegas repeated. This time though, it sounded like a question rather than a demand.
“I’m yours,” Pete whispered, his ejaculate smearing between their stomachs as they both panted heavily. “Always yours, Vegas.” He reached up and covered Vegas’s bleeding hand with his own. “Always, my love. You’re such a good husband.”
Vegas let out a scream of rage, of sorrow, that sounded like all his insides shattering. He collapsed against Pete, burying his face into Pete’s scarred chest, still screaming.
“You’re such a good boy,” Pete whispered, letting Vegas crush him against the wall. He stroked his hands through Vegas’s hair. He pet Vegas’s back and breathed praise into his ear. “You’re my good boy, Vegas. You’re so good to me. You’re the best husband. You make me so happy, Vegas. I love you, Vegas. I love you, my good boy.”
Vegas sobbed into Pete’s chest, the balm of Pete’s words leeching the poison from Vegas’s brain. “I’m sorry,” Vegas whispered into Pete’s chest. “Why am I like this? I’m so fucking sorry. I love you, Pete. I love you. I love you. Please don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” Pete asked, kissing a trail up the side of Vegas’s face, tasting the salt of his tears. “Never, baby. You’re my husband, my moonlight. Not just in this life. We belong to each other in every life after this, too.”
Vegas’s hands shook as he dug them into Pete’s hips. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, feeling pathetic and jagged. “I’m so fucking stupid, Pete. You don’t deserve this. You deserve better. I’m so worthless, Pete. I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Pete soothed as the fight went out of Vegas and they slipped to the floor, Vegas straddling Pete’s thighs with limp muscles like a broken marionette. “Look at me,” he commanded gently, trying not to let his voice break at hearing Vegas degrade himself so much.
Vegas raised his head and Pete wiped across his cheeks with his thumbs. It left small smears of blood across his high cheekbones.
“I love you so fucking much, Vegas. You think I would just marry anyone? And you don’t have to apologize. The only thing I wish is that you’d told me sooner that you were feeling that voice in your head, that you were feeling unsure, so that we could deal with it together.”
“I’m sor-” Vegas began to apologize, but Pete silenced him with a kiss.
“What did I say?” he asked gently, but firmly.
“No apologies,” Vegas whispered. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, scratchy and ravaged from screaming. “I love you so much, Pete.”
Pete smiled that beautiful sunshine smile of his, the one that Vegas orbited around. “I know. Nobody will ever love me as much as you do, Vegas. And nobody will ever love you as much as I do.” Pete’s hands slid around Vegas’s firm waist, and he pulled them closer so the words that he said next were breathed across Vegas’s shaking lips. “And don’t ever think I’ll leave you, Vegas. Don’t you dare ever think I’ll leave you, because you’re mine. You’re mine, Vegas. I chose to leave the Main Family for you. I’m never going back to them. I may care for them still, but I love you, Vegas.” Pete’s tone wasn’t admonishing, but just firm. Factual. “I won’t let anyone come between us, Vegas. Not even you.”
Vegas swallowed back another sob as Pete read him so fucking easily. Rather than feeling small and foolish, like he would have with Gun, Vegas felt grounded and loved. That sob he’d tried to bite back came out when Pete’s mouth captured his in a gentle kiss. It felt so intimate and personal that it stripped Vegas bare, flayed open his layers down to his soul, and laid all the ugliness for all to see. But Pete didn’t flinch away. He pulled Vegas closer so their chests crushed together. He loved the sharp edges of Vegas just as much as he loved everything else about him. Those sharp edges didn’t scare him.
Pete slowly stroked up and down Vegas’s back. “You’re my good boy,” he repeated before kissing Vegas again.
“I ruined your surprise,” Vegas muttered into Pete’s mouth.
Pete shook his head, shifting himself so he was the one straddling Vegas’s thighs now. “Ruined what? We still have lots of decorations, and he’s not going anywhere.” He gripped Vegas’s hand to inspect the wounds. There were a couple of large shards sticking out from his knuckles. Pete reached back with his free hand and grasped Vegas’s soft cock and guided it into his lubed, prepped hole. He lowered himself down in one motion, filling himself fully with Vegas’s dick.
Vegas gasped as the heat of Pete’s body enveloped him. He arched his neck back as Pete now focused on the glass in his hand. “We don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to,” Pete assured. “I just wanted to be closer to you,” he explained as he pulled the first shard of glass out. Vegas barely felt it - how could he when Pete’s body was all around him?
“How can I not want to…?” Vegas gasped out, his cock twitching to full hardness as Pete’s muscles squeezed around him. “Pete…” he ground out.
Pete smiled as he pulled out the other large shard of glass. He then kissed Vegas’s raw knuckles and brushed off some dusted glass. “We’ll have to clean that out later.” He leaned forward to chase Vegas’s mouth as he rolled his hips. “Won’t we, my good boy?”
Vegas reached up and cupped the sides of Pete’s face, smashing their lips together in a messy kiss, like he was trying to swallow those words. He rolled his hips up to meet Pete’s, chasing Pete’s tongue with his own.
“You make me feel so good,” Pete murmured into their kiss. “You feel so good inside me.” His words became broken and stuttered as he positioned himself so Vegas’s now hard cock hit his prostate with each thrust. “Baby, I love you. You’re so perfect for me.” Pete continued to praise Vegas with each roll of his hips, each thrust up from Vegas’s. He knew that Vegas needed those words that Pete was whispering into his mouth. And he meant each one more than he’d ever meant anything he’d ever said. “I know you can’t help but doubt yourself, my love, but don’t ever doubt me.”
Vegas’s orgasm tore out of the raw core of his soul. He wrapped his arms tight around Pete to ride the sensation, tight enough that Pete gasped for air. Pete rocked his hips faster, their bodies so close together that he didn’t need to use his hand to stimulate his own erection. He rutted against Vegas’s belly, and came with a small moan, his come spurting between their bellies for the second time that evening. As he came, his mind flashed with the image of Vegas’s furious, dangerous eyes coming towards him, that thrill of danger rushing through him and making all his nerves sing.
Pete gave a tired smile into Vegas’s mouth, their foreheads rubbing together, not wanting to separate any part of their bodies. It broke Vegas’s heart and made it anew. How did Vegas ever get such a perfect man?
You don’t deserve him.
The ghostly memory of Pete’s declaration against his lips chased the ghost of Gun’s voice away. He would probably never convince himself that he deserved Pete, but if Pete said to trust him, that’s what Vegas would do.
Pete finally pulled back enough to look into Vegas’s eyes. They looked glassy and tired, his gamut of emotions now catching up with him. “Now,” he said, smiling widely. “We are going to go clean your hands and then we are going to come back and finish decorating our tree before we have to throw it out.”
Vegas could only nod, so strung out that he couldn’t put two thoughts together. Pete stood, getting his bearings for a moment on shaky legs, and then offered a hand to Vegas.
“Tell me you love me,” Vegas demanded, looking up at his beautiful Pete. “Please,” he added in a tiny whisper.
Pete cocked his head, his dimples flashing in a smile that was merry and bright. “I love you so fucking much, Vegas.” He pulled his husband up to his feet. “So fucking much.”