You'll remember me

33. Chains Me Up

Vegas ' private jet landed at Seoul Airport at 1pm. A hired car with a driver was waiting outside to take him to the House where Pete was staying.

Vegas had bought this house as a gift to Pete for one of his birthdays. He'd never been there. From the beginning, they had agreed that this house would only be for Pete and that he would never interfere once his husband decided to go there. He went there several times, but it was always to rest. They had never fought for him to leave.

As soon as he calmed down, he found out where Pete was. And the fact that he had bodyguards with him was even more obvious. When he sent him one message, he knew it was time, and Pete called him. He was ready to talk.

On the way, all he could think about was getting there and taking Pete in his arms.

The car stops in front of a beautiful house on the outskirts of the city. There was nothing but greenery and woodland around, although it was night and there was little to see. No wonder Pete chose her. You can really rest here.

Vegas got out of the car and climbed the stairs that led to the door of the House. There were three guards in front of him. Vegas looked at one of the windows. There was still light inside, which meant Pete hadn't gone to bed. Vegas shivered in the wind outside. He was standing outside the door, freaking out like a 12-year-old lady. He didn't know what was waiting for him on the other side. Like you didn't know his Pete. Hell, they'd been together for 21 years, and he was still excited like a kid.

Okay. He could have done it. He cleared his voice and raised his hand. Then he took it down, took a few steps back and forth, and stood again before the door, wringing his hands.

- "Hey, baby, ""Hello, My Love, "" How Are you, Pete?I missed you." - as he was rehearsing what to say, he noticed one of the bodyguards laughing at him.

- Look ahead! - he commanded in the deep voice of a master.

At that moment the door opened. Before him stood a familiar figure. Pete. His Pete. His everything.

As soon as he recognized her husband, Pete's face lit up with his radiant smile, showing his sweet dimples.

- Hi. - his voice was soft, full of excitement.

Vegas opened his mouth, but not a sound came out. He was completely fascinated by the beauty of this boy. He looked down at his body to see it.

Although Seoul was much colder than Thailand, Pete was wearing a thin shirt that reached to his knees. Vegas was hoping he was wearing something underneath because he wasn't going to fight today because one of the bodyguards might have looked at his legs. Or maybe he was secretly wondering if this was Pete's secret move to make it easier to get to the bedroom. The less clothes, the better. The shirt had fallen to one side, showing his neck and shoulder. The white skin looked so good. Shit, he could have licked his whole neck, he'd have liked it.

- Vegas. - Pete waved something in his face. A wooden spoon. Pete was cooking?

Vegas shook his head and returned to Earth. Pete looked at him questioningly. Vegas took one step inside and grabbed Pete by the waist, shaking their bodies. His lips devoured Pete's in a bestial kiss, closing the door with his foot so there was no audience. Pete groaned loudly in his mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck. He missed him so much. His touch, his voice, his kisses, his taste. He missed himself so much. One week was too much time for the two of them. Vegas hugged him, crushing his body with the force he was passionately kissing. He started walking along with Pete. They got to something, probably the kitchen counter, and Vegas lifted Pete up with ease, putting him on the smooth surface. Pete's legs opened, took Vegas, and he wrapped his hips around his waist without spoiling the kiss. He clung to him as the older man crawled with his tongue over his warm mouth. The kiss became suffocating, slimy. Pete dropped his hands, dropping the spoon to the ground. His hands clasped his husband's strong biceps. Vegas was the first to break the kiss, his lips dropping to Pete's bare neck, where he didn't fail to leave a mark.