A/N: Okay so i have decided this story will LIKELY be around 15 or so chapters at prob 140k - 160k words, we shall see. 13 of those (so 7 more) are already fully plotted out, I just need to write them :)
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VEGAS
Vegas: what are you wearing?
Pete: wouldnt u like to know?
Vegas: that is why I'm asking.
Vegas smirked down at his phone in his lap as he awaited the reply. He spent the moment scrolling back up, reading through the texts he'd been sending back and forth with Pete for days, all full of the same things. Flirty messages, teasing photos, ones that Vegas had strangely not grown tired of. With anyone else, this would've been just a tool to get his way, a game he'd play with an unknowing participant. With Pete, it wasn't just that.
With Pete, he genuinely enjoyed talking in this way.
It was strange to find they had a lot in common. Not in any obvious ways, but the two of them had similar thoughts on things. Good and evil (it didn't exist), a sense of duty (perhaps too strong of one), and least of all to mention—the sex.
Sex had always been an important thing to Vegas. He couldn't really track where it started or why, but he'd always had a high sex drive from the time he started going through puberty. The issue was, the older he grew, the "darker" his tastes seemed to grow in turn, and it was difficult to find others who shared his... specific brand of tastes.
Not that Vegas thought anything he liked was wrong. He didn't and he wouldn't force anyone to participate in his kinks—but that's why it was so frustrating. No one else's kinks were as extreme as his.
Pete though? Fuck, he'd somehow found a goldmine in Pete.
Or perhaps a diamond mine—rough and still in their casings of coal. Vegas needed to break them open and harvest the precious gems, cut them, polish them, and have something beautiful all for himself. And Pete wanted it that way. He liked it that way.
That was a rare find and just another aspect of this relationship that Vegas was going to hold as close to his chest as possible.
Vegas' thumb paused on a picture of Pete. It was nothing that risque, but it was one that Vegas could admit had his mouth a little dry upon seeing. It was just Pete—not even fully Pete, but of Pete's abdomen, his thumb hooked in his shirt, tugging it up and up and up until a beautiful brown and perky nipple was exposed. Vegas' mouth almost watered at the sight of it and Pete's stomach that he'd tasted just the night before the photo had been taken.
He liked looking at this one. An innocent little tease, something Vegas might have rolled his eyes out and said, "That's all?" had it been anyone other than Pete who had sent it.
But it wasn't anyone other than Pete who had sent it. It was Pete. So he revered it.
"Vegas? Vegas are you listening to Tawan?"
Vegas' head snapped up at the sound of his fiance's (he had to fight to roll his eyes even thinking that word in regards to Tawan) voice. Tawan was staring at him on the screen of Vegas' home computer. He'd been going on and on about something or other having to do with his trip. Vegas really couldn't care. He'd zoned him out in the first few minutes of being on call with Tawan.
If Tawan was only just noticing, then Vegas thought that was pretty good of him.
"Sorry, Tawan." Vegas turned off his phone and laid it face down on his desk. "Something with work came up and apparently can't wait until later, but they can hold on for a few moments. What was it you were saying?"
Tawan's eyes seemed to narrow slightly, but in a flash, there was a smile on his face. "That's alright Vegas. Anyway, Tawan was just saying that unfortunately my trip is extended by a few weeks."
"Extended?" Vegas tried to keep the thrill out of his voice. "That's such a shame. I was hoping to get to have you in my bed soon." Tawan wasn't even close to being one of the worst fucks Vegas had ever had, but as the words came out of his mouth, they left a bitter taste against his tongue.
He truly didn't want to have sex with Tawan again. Not when there was no way in hell that he could ever measure up to Pete.
"Tawan was hoping for that too. But, this'll just mean that our reunion is all the more passionate." Vegas smiled only to keep from sneering. "And you'll miss me more. Tawan likes the idea of that."
"I'm not sure how I can miss you more when I already miss you more than than a suffocating man misses oxygen." Vegas wanted to vomit at his own words, but Tawan liked them, so he would deal with it. At least for now.
"Good, and Tawan misses Vegas as well."
"Listen, Tawan, baby," Vegas clenched his hand over his knee beneath his desk. "I better go take care of these work issues before my idiot employees ruin things. I'll talk to you later?"
Tawan's smile widened and he leaned in close to his computer. "Make sure to call Tawan when you get in bed. I'll help you have some fun so you don't miss me that much."
That was the last thing Vegas wanted. "I'll do that, Tawan. Have a good night." Before Tawan could say anything else, Vegas ended the call and then groaned, leaning back into his seat at his desk.
He glanced at his phone, wondering what it was that Pete was doing that was taking him so long. Vegas grabbed his phone and opened back up his messages, tapping in another new text with a smirk on his face.
PETE
Vegas: reply to me with a picture within five minutes or the next time I see you, you'll be getting punished.
Pete coughed, the water stinging his airways as it tried to go down the wrong part of his throat. He set his cup down, rubbing at his neck as he stared down at his phone with wide eyes, heat pooling in his stomach as he quickly took in the text Vegas had sent over and over.
You'll be punished... his mind flew with the thoughts of how, when, where. What would Vegas come up with to punish him? Shouldn't the threat of it scare Pete? Yet, here he was, feeling himself get more excited by the second at the prospect of a punishment. That wasn't normal, was it?
But Pete had decided he was done worrying about whether something was "normal" or not.
"Pete, you okay?"
"Hm?" Pete looked up at Maprang across the table with him, suddenly remembering that the two of them were having dinner together in her apartment. He should be paying attention to her, but instead his mind was only on Vegas' threat and how he very much wanted to obey Vegas' order and get a picture to him at once. He had plenty of pictures tucked away in a folder, but none of those were right—he needed something new.
"Sorry," Pete shook his head from his thoughts, sliding his phone back into his pocket where it seemed to burn against his leg. "Porsche sent me something totally inappropriate and it made me choke a bit. I'm fine."
Maprang gave a small laugh and rolled over her eyes. "Of course he did, that's totally Porsche." She took a bite of her food and Pete hummed in agreement, itching to get up.
He watched her for a moment longer and then scooted his chair back, standing from the table.
"Where are you going?" Maprang blinked up at him.
Pete pushed a smile onto his face, touching his phone in his pocket. "Bathroom, stomach is feeling a little upset suddenly."
"Oh no! Do you need me to get you some medicine?" Maprang started to stand up but Pete shook his head and gestured for her to sit back down.
"Let's give it a bit first. I'm just going to go use the bathroom. Be back soon." He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and then turned, a quick shot of guilt plaguing him at the fact he'd kissed someone other than Vegas.
Pete hurried to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Thankfully, he wasn't wearing anything fancy, just a t-shirt, a loose button-up over it, and a pair of jeans. He tugged his shirts off, tossing them to the side of the sink and then quickly unbuttoned his jeans, letting them drop, along with his underwear, down to his ankles.
He stared at himself in the mirror, fingers tracing a few light, red marks dotting his abdomen, easily hidden from sight from prying eyes. Pete shivered at his own touch, remembering how Vegas' mouth left those marks and quickly stopped touching himself, grabbing his phone instead. He then turned around so that his back was facing his mirror. The swell of his ass was just in view over the counter. Pete lifted his phone over his shoulder, making sure to get his ass fully in the shot and took a quick picture. He looked it over, deciding it wasn't the best, but he knew Vegas would appreciate it and Pete was working with a limited amount of time.
Pete inserted the picture into his chat with Vegas and quickly sent it with a mischievous smile on his face. He wished he could be there to see Vegas' reaction to the picture, but, for now, Vegas' reply would just have to do.
VEGAS
Vegas didn't think he'd ever been so eager to get to work before in his entire life. Normally, he didn't mind work all that much, even enjoyed it to a certain extent. He was good at his job, and he did quite enjoy being in charge, but never had he had this overwhelming urge to step foot through the doors of Theerapanyakul Pharmaceuticals like this before.
And it was all Pete's fault.
After that little tease of a photo, Vegas had had half a mind to order Pete to a hotel room to find out what happens to pets who tease him in that way. Sure, he'd asked for a photo, and that's exactly what he got, but Vegas still felt the desire to bring his hand down against Pete's ass until it was red and swollen.
He had the feeling that Pete would appreciate it as well.
"Where's Pete?" He asked the first sales employee that he came across. He didn't even remember the woman's name and truly didn't care to learn it, not when he had more pressing matters in his hands—or he would, soon, at least.
"Bathroom, Khun Vegas." The woman murmured, pointing off in the direction of the staff bathroom. Vegas smirked. How fitting.
He turned at once, heading towards the bathroom with long, quick strides. Vegas pushed the door open, finding Pete washing his hands. A sense of deja vu washed over Vegas as he quickly checked to make sure there was no one else in the bathroom to interrupt them. Then he locked the door.
Pete saw him approaching in the mirror and grinned to himself, lowering his eyes towards the sink only to gasp loudly when Vegas stopped behind him and swiftly brought his hand down against Pete's ass with all the force he could muster.
"V-Vegas!" Pete brought a hand up to cover his mouth, biting into his palm. Vegas grabbed Pete's arm and spun him around, thrusting his knee in between Pete's legs and rolling it upwards against his already stiffening cock beneath his trousers.
"Did you have fun?" Pete made a noise of confusion, broken by a moan. He quickly grasped at Vegas' shoulders, fingers digging bruisingly into him. "Sending that picture last night, knowing I couldn't have you until today, did you have fun?"
Pete nodded, his hair flapping around his face as he flushed, looking up beneath dark lashes towards his secret lover. Vegas let out a small, pleased noise and stepped closer, moving his knee only enough so that Pete slid onto his thigh and rocked himself down. Vegas was tempted to stop him by pulling on his hair, but he decided to enjoy the slutty show that Pete was giving him.
His own pants tightened until it was almost unbearable. Vegas needed Pete. It was ridiculous this sort of effect Pete had on him, over him, an effect that no one else had ever had before.
"Do you want me to take care of you, pet?" Vegas murmured, leaning to whisper against Pete's ear, lips trailing his neck, stopping to kiss at all the little moles that dotted his skin.
"Y-yes, please Vegas—I need you. Fuck, I constantly need you—"
Vegas stopped Pete's words by sliding his palm down over Pete's crotch, gripping him through his pants and rubbing his thumb along the length of him. Pete whined, clenching his thighs around Vegas' own thigh, a reminder of how tight Pete got when he was inside of him.
"Since you asked me so nicely," Vegas gave another squeeze of his hand around him and Pete whined out, head falling forward against his shoulders. "I'll take very good care of you Pete."
PETE
Pete was positive he was going to have a huge bruise in the shape of his own mouth by the time Vegas finished fucking him. But he didn't have a choice—it was either bite into his arm, or run the risk of people hearing them from the roof of the company. Pete was loud and apparently both he and Vegas enjoyed the danger and risk that came with fucking literally anywhere that people might hear or see them.
They'd fucked in the sales floor bathroom yesterday and today was the roof—Pete wondered (and eagerly looked forward) what it would be tomorrow.
Vegas thrust into him with fervor, Pete's entire body held up by Vegas' own, his legs resting over Vegas' arms as Vegas fucked him into the wall of the roof's entrance. Over Vegas' shoulders, Pete could see the railing and, beyond that, the parking lot. There were other high buildings around and he knew that if someone looked out any of the windows nearby, they would be seen.
His cock twitched and leaked between their stomachs and Pete clenched tightly around Vegas, whining and whimpering as Vegas slammed into his prostate. He attacked the exposed skin just below Pete's throat from where Vegas had pushed aside his shirt, leaving mark after mark wherever his lips fell, painting Pete in red and purple bruises that Pete would later admire, stroking them lovingly in the mirror.
Lovingly... the word made Pete's ears darken—he could feel it in the way they grew warmer. He was so close, so fucking close, but he couldn't come, not until Vegas allowed him to.
"You're such a tight slut for me." Vegas groaned against Pete's throat, lifting his head to bite on Pete's upper lip, taking it into his mouth with a full suck. Vegas had a thing for his upper lip, and any time he initiated a kiss with him, Pete found himself melting, getting lost in it, and never wanting to escape that dizzy feeling again.
"I-I always make sure to be tight for you, Khun Vegas." Pete gasped between kisses, his ass squeezing even more tightly around Vegas' length, his cock throbbing painfully and dripping with precum.
"Do you want to come?" Vegas asked, slowly the movement of his hips just enough to be absolutely torturous.
Pete nodded, whining as Vegas avoided his prostate, brushing just next to it. Pete's thighs were trembling over Vegas' arms. He really didn't think he had much control left in him—and their break was almost up.
Vegas smirked, the smirk he reserved when he enjoyed seeing Pete breaking down in this way. Pete was becoming painfully aware of it. Just as aware as he was the feeling of Vegas inside of him, pulsating and stretching him beyond what Pete had ever imagined before.
"Come." Vegas demanded and Pete bit back into his arm, holding back his scream as he came.
VEGAS
Pete whined above him as he clutched onto the couch, bent over the back of it with his pants down around his ankles and his ass sticking out, nearly dripping wet from the saliva that streaked over Pete's hole and Between his cheeks.
Vegas had spat onto him and then used his thumb to rub the saliva into his entrance, coating him as he enjoyed the View of Pete jutting his hips backwards, begging to be filled by more than just his tongue or fingers.
Truly, Vegas wanted nothing more than that, but Pete had already come once, and any more than that while at work, he was somewhat worried if Pete would even be able to function the rest of the day. So, instead, Vegas pressed one last wet kiss to Pete's puckered entrance and pulled back, his hands gripping the spots where purple finger prints had formed from the strength of which Vegas had used to pull his cheeks apart.
Pete looked beautiful marred in this way and Vegas couldn't help but admire the markings, stroking them and enjoying the sound of Pete's soft whimpers as he tried to come back to himself.
"What a good boy you are." Vegas praised, reaching down to stroke Pete's hair. Pete turned his head, giving him a small smile before pushing himself off the back of the couch with a groan. He stumbled slightly and Vegas wrapped his arms around him, pulling him against his chest. "Your legs are weak?"
"I just need a moment." Pete shifted in Vegas' embrace so that he was leaning back against the couch with his chest pressed to Vegas'. "You're really good with your tongue. Has anyone told you that before?"
"A few people." Vegas admitted, enjoying the flash of annoyance that sparked through Pete's eyes. Vegas laughed and lifted his hand, feeling a genuine smile come over his face as he stroked his fingers over Pete's cheek. "But I don't use my tongue like that on people very often, and I certainly never enjoyed doing it before you, Pete."
Pete's eyes widened somewhat. Vegas could practically feel his pulse pick up beneath his fingers and against their chests pressed together.
"Really?" Pete sounded wary, as if he wasn't sure whether Vegas was telling the truth or not. Vegas supposed he couldn't blame him, given their situation, but he was telling the truth.
"Really," Vegas promised and then pulled Pete's head forward for a kiss. Just as Pete melted into it, so did Vegas. He'd never really enjoyed kissing before, only ever doing it to use against people, make them think he had a certain set of feelings for them—people like Tawan, whom he needed something from.
Pete was different though. Vegas genuinely enjoyed kissing Pete. He enjoyed his upper lip, the way they puckered, how they tasted of cigarettes and spices that Vegas had never really enjoyed before. But Pete seemed to be changing a lot of things for Vegas.
He liked to think he was changing a lot of things for Pete too.
There was a knock on the office door and Pete jumped, quickly turning away, pulling up his pants, and straightening his clothes. Vegas called out, telling them to hold for a moment because he genuinely didn't remember if he had locked the door. He grabbed the towel that he had preemptively tossed over the back of the couch and walked towards the door. He tossed the towel in the corner, out of sight to get later and gave one last look at Pete who nodded, signaling that he was good, before opening the door to his receptionist.
"Yes?" Vegas asked, hand tightening on the doorknob as she gave a quick glance into the room, her eyes falling on Pete who was hovering over near the couch, trying to look normal.
And failing.
His receptionist jumped, holding out a sticky note. Vegas took it, frowning as he read it. It was a note from his father, saying that he'd be back from whatever trip he was on on Friday and he'd be in the office to have a meeting with Vegas. Vegas knew it was less of a meeting and more of a rundown of how their plans were going exactly.
"Fine, thank you." He pointed her out and she turned without a word, quickly heading back to her desk. Vegas glanced over the rest of the staff who all looked away at once.
He shook his head and then closed the door, crumbling the paper before tossing it in the trash next to his desk.
"What was it?" Pete asked, walking over and sliding his arms around Vegas' shoulders, dropping a soft kiss against his lips. Vegas couldn't help but melt into it for a moment, his hands gripping Pete's waist.
"My father wants to have a meeting with me on Friday. Looks like we'll have to put our own meeting on hold."
"Shame," Pete murmured, his lids heavy as his fingers slid along the back of Vegas' neck. Somehow, he felt so small in Vegas' embrace, almost like he was making himself smaller to fit better against him. Vegas enjoyed it. He enjoyed the way Pete shrunk and folded himself against his chest. It was warm and... cozy—which isn't a word that Vegas ever thought he'd use to describe any sort of relationship in his life.
But in this case, it was perfect.
"I think," Vegas nipped at Pete's lip, earning a little mewl before he pulled away. "We were in the middle of something and it's my turn."
Pete's lips twitched and he kissed Vegas one last time before he wordlessly sunk to his knees, Vegas' hand finding its way into his hair, stroking him like a pet.
PETE
The worst part about having an affair for Pete was the fact that, instead of being able to spend the nights with Vegas, he was still obligated to dinners and dates with Maprang. It's not like he didn't enjoy being around her—she was nice and could be fun, but the feeling of I don't want to be here was overwhelming Pete more and more as the days passed.
All he could think of was Vegas. Vegas' lips on his. Vegas' hands gripping his thighs, stroking over his body. Vegas' cock thrusting into his body, penetrating him as Vegas' words whispered a mixture of praise and humiliating vulgarities. Pete enjoyed both.
He might have enjoyed the humiliating vulgarities just a bit more.
Pete felt a little outside of himself lately. Even if he'd never really had romantic feelings for Maprang, it'd never felt like a chore to be in this position, situated across from her at the dinner table, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of curry into his mouth to avoid talking too much.
Was this Vegas' influence? Or was this just who Pete always was and it was finally coming out because he now had something he cared more about than his outside image?
If that's the case... Pete couldn't help but be a little terrified at what it all meant, but he was determined to take it one step at a time, no matter where it brought him.
"I had a long talk with my parents on the phone earlier." Maprang states out of the blue. Pete blinks at her, staying silent, knowing that this had to be going somewhere. "It was a mostly normal conversation, just asking how work is, how your work is, if anything interesting is going on."
"Doesn't sound like a long conversation." Pete joked, grabbing his water to take a sip of it.
Maprang gave a light laugh. It sounded forced. "Maybe not. I told them, there's not much going on. There's a little bit more going on for them and the restaurant but, anyway, they started asking me when we'd be getting married." Maprang laughed again, this one even more forced as she grabbed her own cup to swallow a gulp of water.
Pete pressed his spoon into his half-empty plate, blinking at her. "Oh." He watched as Maprang's face fell and wished he felt worse about it than he did, but what was he supposed to say to something like that? He didn't have an answer—well, he did, but he somehow thought neither her nor her parents would appreciate the answer he had.
"Yeah," Maprang continued, trying to keep some cheer in her voice. "My mom said we've been together so long and dad is wondering if you're just a bit nervous about it. But, you know, I told them that—"
"That we haven't discussed it?" Pete interrupted, staring at her from across the table.
Maprang's smile wavered a little. "They keep asking, Pete. It has been a few years and I guess to them, that's more than enough time to—"
"Get engaged and get married?" Pete tried not to show his annoyance, but the fact of the matter, he was annoyed. He didn't understand why there was such a huge push to take such huge steps like marriage from parents, when clearly it wasn't something their kids were even ready to think about.
His grandmother always asked too, but Pete understood that she was getting up there in age and wanted to just see him happy before she passed. Maprang's parents on the other hand, pushing her to try and get him to propose, that was something that felt entirely different.
It was something that felt, to Pete, that they were crossing some boundaries that he didn't want them crossing.
"I mean, a lot of people get engaged and marry in a lot less time than we've been together." Maprang pointed out, her voice starting to lower in volume. Pete was sure he was upsetting her with his clear disinterest in this topic, but truthfully, this topic upset him because he just wasn't ready.
And he didn't think he would ever be ready. Marriage was not something he liked the thought of. It hadn't worked out for his mother and father, and here Pete was, cheating on his girlfriend—there was no way a marriage between him and Maprang would ever work out. Didn't she see that?
It's not like she knows I'm cheating on her, Pete thought to himself, grimacing inwardly.
"Maprang," Pete inhaled deeply and set down his utensils, placing his hand on the wood of the dining room table. "I just don't think it's your parents' business to be forcing us to talk about marriage before we're ready to talk about it."
Maprang stared at him, her eyes widening. "Business? Pete... they're my parents, they just want me to be happy and they know how much we mean to each other or, at least—how much you mean to me."
They both fell silent at those words. Pete was at a loss as to what to say. Maprang gave an almost disbelieving laugh at this clear fact.
"Unless, I don't mean the same to you." Maprang closed her eyes for a moment, pain flashing across her face. There was a brief feeling of guilt that shot through Pete, but it was replaced in an instant by annoyance again that this argument was because of Maprang's parents pushing them for marriage.
"I didn't say that—"
"Then why don't you ever want to talk about it, Pete? Why is marriage such an untouchable topic for you?"
Pete opened his mouth to reply and then he closed it, snapping it shut with a look that clearly said he didn't want to answer that question. He really didn't—he didn't want to talk about his parents, explain why marriage was always just this thing that people did, other people. It could mean the world to others, but to him it was a piece of paper that didn't protect his mother, didn't stop her from leaving when his father got rough and left him behind.
It hit Pete then that maybe this was why he was able to have an affair with a man engaged to be married. Perhaps it would mean something if it meant something to Vegas, but it clearly didn't, and Pete had never really wanted to marry Maprang.
It was just a thing that people did when they were in a relationship for a while, similar to how her parents said, but Pete was resistant to this, and he was resisting this even more once Vegas had come into his life.
The silence was telling, at least enough for Maprang who was pushing out of her chair and standing up. Pete wondered if he should stop her, but also wondered if maybe it wasn't a good idea to just... let her leave for tonight, cool off. Maybe she'd come to her senses and realize that this wasn't really a topic to get upset over. It's just marriage.
"I've been wondering for awhile, Pete," Maprang began after a moment of standing in front of her chair, fingers just brushing the top of the table. "Whether or not this is a serious relationship."
Pete's brows furrowed as he looked up at her. "We've been in a relationship for years, Maprang."
Maprang let out a breath, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "That's why I'm wondering. I'm trying here to build a future with you but you've seemed less and less interested lately. Maybe my parents realize that too, which is why they asked, it's just not something I wanted to really think about." She stepped out from behind the table, grabbing her bag from where it was lying on the couch. "I think I'm going to go home for the night. I don't really want to talk about this anymore."
Pete agreed—he also didn't want to talk about this anymore, but he had a feeling that wasn't the smartest thing to say so he stayed silent, watching as his girlfriend gathered up her things and pulled on her jacket.
She paused at the door and looked back at him. Maprang appeared as if she wanted to say something, but changed her mind swiftly, and left a thick silence behind in her wake as the door slammed shut behind her.
For a moment, Pete thought this might finally be what would make him feel guilty towards Maprang.
It wasn't.
VEGAS
"I'm going to be honest, Pete," Vegas said when Pete opened the door, a bottle of Penfolds Wine held in his hand. "I never really thought you'd be inviting me over to your apartment." Pete smiled upon seeing him. Vegas wished that he hated how it made him feel.
"I'm going to be honest, Vegas," Pete took the bottle of wine, glancing it over before looking around the outside hall to his apartment. "I never really thought I'd be inviting you over to my apartment either." Holding the bottle of wine in one hand, Pete grabbed Vegas' wrist with the other, tugging him inside and away from the door just enough to close it before Vegas spun him around, pulling him a deep kiss.
He kissed him as if he hadn't kissed him in days, deep and like Vegas wanted to possess Pete whole. Perhaps he did. He didn't feel bad about that.
"Fuck," Pete breathed out into the kiss after they pulled away. His fingers were turning white, clutching the bottle of wine in order to note drop it. Vegas took the bottle from Pete and gently set it on the nearest table.
"Are you going to give me a tour?" Vegas murmured against Pete's lips, his hands snaking around his waist to grip and stroke, fingers trailing just beneath the bottom of Pete's shirt. He wanted nothing more than to tear it off, to force Pete nude and fuck him over every square inch of his apartment, the place his girlfriend probably trotted around without a care in the world, not even realizing what a good thing she had in Pete.
Vegas' hands tightened around his waist and he leaned his head forward, biting into Pete's neck, not dissimilar to a vampire feasting on its prey. Pete whined, his own hand clutching at his shoulder as they swayed a little in place, Vegas' teeth nipping and gnawing at Pete's skin until he was satisfied there was a beautiful, dark bruise against his throat.
"I-I, yeah, I can give you a tour." Pete said in reply, his voice sounding faraway. Pleased with himself, Vegas pulled back and took the chance to really look at his Pete.
His hair was a little more mussed than usual, looking as if he'd just rolled out of bed, or the couch—Vegas noted, eyeing the pillows that had spilled to the floor and the bag of chips lying open on the table. The sweater was oversized, but unlike how Pete usually seems to use the oversizing of clothes to hide his body, this looked like it was more for comfort than anything.
He looked cozy and comfortable and beautiful.
And Vegas wanted him to know that.
"Beautiful," Vegas pressed his fingers beneath Pete's chin, stroking along beneath it to let them fall to the new bruise on his neck, his thumb brushing along his Adam's Apple. "As always."
Pete's ears tinted red, his mouth seeming to open and close just slightly, as if searching for something to say. Finally, Pete just let out a little laugh and gestured around the open living space. "My apartment. Living room, kitchen, dining, and over there is the bathroom and my room. It's... not much."
He was right. It wasn't much. Pete deserved something far better, but Vegas opted not to say this. At the same time he felt Pete deserved better, he enjoyed glancing around, taking in how Pete decorated for himself.
It was incredibly different from Vegas' room, which, for the most part, probably lacked a lot of personality considering he didn't like to display his personality. Pete, on the other hand, had an entire shelf full of superhero action figures and a vast collection of movies and series on blu-ray. The apartment was also a bit messy, not in a way that Pete didn't clean up, but more in the way that his way of cleaning was disorganized, whereas Vegas' was very organized, if not a bit OCD.
"It's very you." Vegas replied instead, holding back the words that found their way to the tip of his tongue—and I like you.
He did like Pete. A lot. He just wasn't sure if that was something he should say.
Pete seemed fairly happy with Vegas' reaction to his apartment and leaned in a little closer, his fingers playing at the fold of Vegas' shirt, where it was unbuttoned halfway down his chest.
"I was thinking... maybe you would want to watch a movie with me? We could order something. How do you feel about pizza? Or is pizza too... pedestrian and greasy? I don't eat it that often because I prefer Thai foods but I know you like western foods a lot and pizza is always a good choice, I mean, who doesn't like pizza? Or if you want, we can go out somewhere, or we could just have sex like we always do—"
Pete rambled on and Vegas had to stop himself from laughing as an unfamiliar warmth rushed through his chest. How could a person be so incredibly... cute?
"Pete—Pete," Vegas interrupted, grabbing hold of one of Pete's hands, thumb stroking along the back of it. Pete's words died on his lips and he looked down at their hands, the tips of his ears slowly turning a vibrant red. "I think pizza sounds good. The wine should still go well with it. And I would... enjoy watching a movie with you."
Pete's shoulders seemed to unwind and relax at Vegas' words. He smiled, squeezing his fingers around Vegas' before leaning in to gently kiss Vegas. It was nothing more than a peck. Vegas itched for more but then Pete pulled away, his brown eyes sparkling beautifully, and Vegas felt his breath get stuck somewhere in his throat.
"Then I'm going to order us a pizza. You pick out a movie." Then Pete stepped away to turn and grab his phone from where he'd left it on the kitchen counter. Pete turned, shooting Vegas another smile before gesturing him over to the shelf of movies.
Vegas walked over, but never once did his eyes leave Pete's form as he called in their order. It was strange how something as simple as being here, in Pete's apartment, ordering a pizza to watch a movie together felt right. Vegas thought that if this was what right felt like—then perhaps he hadn't ever felt right at all.
"Then she got upset that I'm just... not interested in marriage. I don't think I ever have been. It's not because it's her, it's because it's marriage." The pizza box lay open on the table, mostly finished, with the movie long since over. Vegas and Pete both lounged on the couch, their bodies angled towards each other. One of Pete's legs was tossed over Vegas' whose fingers trailed over Pete's calf, up and then down, unable to get enough of touching Pete.
"Why are you not interested in marriage?" Vegas asked, genuinely curious. He was surprised at his own interest in Pete. He generally wasn't interested in anyone who wasn't Macau—the only person whom he'd really grown up asking "how's your day?" and actually wanted an answer from.
Pete looked at him for a moment and then tilted his head back against the armrest of the couch, looking up towards the ceiling. "It's not something I like to really talk about."
"Ah," Vegas nodded his head a little, hand just slightly squeezing around Pete's ankle. "I see."
"No," Pete shook his head, looking back up at him. "That's the thing. It's not something I like to talk about, but, for some reason, I do want to tell you."
Vegas held back his smile, continuing to rub up and down Pete's leg. He liked touching him. It was soothing, in a way. He thought Pete must like it too, because he hadn't asked him to stop.
"I've mentioned that I live with my grandparents, right? That my mother left when I was little and my father died when I was twelve?" Vegas gave a small nod. "I think I said I don't remember much about my mother. I remember a few things. How sad she was. Sad her life hadn't turned out how she wanted it. Sad none of her dreams came true. Sad she had to raise a kid with an abusive husband who was also bitter about being married. He got my mom pregnant young, ruined her life in her eyes. Dad didn't really like either of us and one day she had enough and she left. Marriage and child be damned. Dad on the other hand pushed me into boxing. He'd beat me if he lost, and then he'd beat me if I won. The conversation would always go back to how mom trapped him into marriage because she was stupid enough to get pregnant." Pete laughed humorlessly, clutching a pillow he'd pulled to his chest. "Not exactly a good example of a marriage."
Vegas had listened to Pete's words with growing annoyance and anger, upset that this man across from him had ever had to deal with anything like this. It was so similar, in certain ways, to his own story, Vegas almost couldn't believe it. But he understood right away why Pete wasn't interested in marriage, and how being pushed towards it could result in how Pete reacted towards his girlfriend.
There were days that Vegas wished he could react the same way to Tawan.
"Your father sounds a lot like mine." Vegas murmured. Pete looked across the couch at him, tilting his head curiously. "He's not a very good father either. Was maybe an even worse husband. My..." Vegas shifted, adjusting himself so that he was sitting up straight against his side of the couch. "My mother killed herself."
"Oh," Pete blinked, reaching forward to grab one of Vegas' hands on his leg. Vegas stared at it for a moment before turning over his hand and accepting Pete's fingers into his own. "I'm so sorry."
"I guess she left me, and Macau, sort of like your mother did you, but mine did it permanently. The rest of the family hated her and it drove her crazy. Father didn't care, he just added to it. She was useless, just like the kids she gave him. Maybe she didn't love us enough either to stay around for us, but she killed herself and left me and my brother alone. And then... things got worse." Vegas choked on his words, unable to get anything else out, how his father treated him. He tried not to think about it, he didn't like thinking about it—he knew it was because he was a failure, if he weren't, he didn't think his dad would treat him as he did.
So long as he did the things Kan Theerapanyakul wanted, everything should be okay.
"You don't have to tell me anymore." Pete assured.
Vegas shook his head. "Anyway, that's why I'm engaged now. Father wants me to be. He has plans to take over Tawan's family's company and then he can overthrow my uncle and the rest of the family and he can have the power like he's always wanted."
"You're marrying because of your dad? It's not something you want for yourself?"
Vegas laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly at the ridiculous idea that he could ever want to actually marry Tawan—or marry anyone for that matter. "I'm absolutely not marrying Tawan because I have any sort of feelings for him. If I could, I'd leave him now, but my father needs this from me and if I don't do it, he'll just turn to Macau. So I'll marry Tawan and I'll help get my father the empire that he wants."
Pete stayed silent for a moment and then all at once he moved his legs off of Vegas. Vegas lifted his hands, staring at him, wondering what he was doing before his lap was full of Pete, Pete's arms resting around Vegas' shoulders.
"So here we are," Pete murmured, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of Vegas' head. "Two people in relationships, probably ending in marriage, when neither of us are even interested in that."
"Mm," Vegas lifted his head, his hands grabbing at Pete's hips and pulling him down against his crotch. "Maybe that's why we're so attracted to each other."
Pete leaned in, resting his forehead against Vegas'. "Maybe," he murmured, tongue darting out to lick over his lips. "Can I show you something? It's a little embarrassing though."
"I'm going to be honest, Pete," Vegas tightened his grips on Pete's waist. "I don't think there's anything you can show me that I find embarrassing."
Pete's lips twitched and then he nodded, clambering off of Vegas' lap and holding out his hand. Vegas looked at it for a moment before grabbing it. Pete pulled him up with surprising strength. Vegas wondered if that was the former athlete in his lover.
"It might not be embarrassing to you, but it is definitely embarrassing to me." Pete ducked his head a little and then turned, still holding onto Vegas' hand as he pulled him towards his bedroom. Pete pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed and then took a step back. "Stay there." Pete turned and hurried through another door—a walk-in-closet.
Vegas watched him curiously for a moment before glancing around Pete's bedroom. It was incredibly similar to the living room—more action figures of heroes and villains and an entire shelf of movies. Vegas noted that he didn't think he'd seen a single book in the entire apartment.
He was going to have to introduce Pete to the joy of reading.
A moment later, Pete exited out of his closet, holding a box in his arms. He carried it over to the bed, sitting it next to Vegas.
"This is... this is everything I've been fighting before I met you. Everything that I would see or would cross my mind and I was interested in—and I'd buy it and then I'd realize that going there is scary. Not fighting myself or hiding myself is scary.
Vegas, fully curious now, looked at the box. He pointed towards it and Pete nodded, stepping away from it before Vegas opened it up to take a look inside.
He laughed at the very first item he found, right on top, folded perfectly.
Vegas took out the blue shirt, a coffee stain seeming to be permanently imprinted on it. "I thought I told you to throw this out?"
Pete's face turned a dark red and he shrugged, gesturing towards it aimlessly. "It's a nice shirt and you were just going to throw it out and I... it smells like you. And coffee."
Vegas lifted a brow and then grinned, taking hold of the shirt fully and unfolded it. "Remove your shirt, Pete."
Pete swallowed but automatically did as he was told—because that was Pete when it came to Vegas. He did what he was told, and he did it beautifully. Vegas admired Pete's body as he dropped his t-shirt to the ground, exposing a soft stomach and already beautifully erect nipples.
Vegas held out the shirt. "Put it on."
The shirt was taken from him with quickness. Pete pulled it on, sliding his arms through it. It fit Pete surprisingly well. Pete started to button it up, but Vegas stopped him, shaking his head.
"Leave it unbuttoned. Open—like that." Vegas leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning over Pete, admiring the sight of him in his shirt, coffee stain and all. His eyes fell to Pete's lower stomach, the area where his skin met denim. "Remove the jeans too." He turned back to the box while Pete busied himself with tugging his pants off.
"Ah, I shouldn't be surprised," Vegas grinned, snagging the pair of handcuffs that'd been laying just beneath where the shirt had been, dangling them from his finger in front of Pete's slowly reddening face. "Handcuffs. Regular ones though. Where did you get these?"
Pete pursed his lips slightly, fingers tugging at the shirt. "It was the first thing I got. I thought it was the most normal thing to get, but I was still too embarrassed to buy anything from an actual website for this stuff." Vegas continued staring at him, waiting for an answer. Pete huffed. "I got it at a costume shop."
Vegas bit the inside of his cheek, holding back his laugh, but it broke out anyway. Pete whined a little. "A costume shop. Don't use these." Vegas smirked and dropped them back into the box, reaching in for the next item. "And a good, classic vibrator."
"That I've actually used." There was a hint of pride to Pete's voice with this statement. Vegas couldn't help but think, adorable.
"Have you?" Vegas turned it over in his hand. "And there's batteries in it?" Pete nodded. Vegas turned it onto the lowest setting, the toy buzzing in his hand. Pete's fingers twisted in Vegas' shirt he had on. "Nice and quiet. Sleek. I'm sure it enters your ass so prettily, Pete. Does your body swallow it up?"
Pete licked his lips, shifting where he stood, clearly affected. "Fuck..."
Vegas held back his smile, turning it up to the highest setting. "That's not what I asked. I asked you if your body swallows it up? If it clenches around it like it's craving to have something shoved inside of you. Answer me."
"Yes," Pete quickly said, squeezing his legs together a little. "I'm so tight when I have it inside of me. Not as tight as I get when you're inside of me though, Khun Vegas."
Vegas stared at him, the urge to pull him down to the bed and fuck him until he was crying and whimpering nearly overwhelming. But they had time for that. There was no one around. Vegas wanted to take his time.
He turned off the vibrator and set it on the bed. They would definitely have use for it later.
Vegas went back into the box for a third, fourth, and fifth time, pulling out various objects and toys that hinted towards an interest in BDSM, but were bought by someone with little knowledge in the matter. Vegas found it kind of cute, in fact, how Pete had decided to show him all of this. He wondered if the purpose of it was more for praise—or rather, degradation as that seemed to be what Pete was more into—or if it was his roundabout way of telling Vegas what, exactly, he truly wanted out of sex.
"You have a collection of interesting stuff, my little slut." Pete seemed to shiver under his gaze and words. "Seems to me that you've been dying to share these with someone. Is that right?"
"Not someone," Pete shook his head, looking as if he was trying to hold himself back from walking forward. "Just a particular person."
Vegas stared at him for a moment before he set the box down on the floor next to the bed. "Come here." Pete quickly walked forward, stopping only when his legs hit Vegas'. Vegas slid his hands beneath his shirt and over his waist, half his fingers laying against his warm flesh while the other half rested on Pete's blue boxers. "Tell me what you mean. A particular person?"
Pete nodded, hesitating for a moment before placing his hands on Vegas' chest. For some reason, Vegas felt his breathing get a little harder, a little faster.
"I've never wanted to do any of this stuff with just... anyone. Only with someone who could bring it out of me themselves. The first moment you were introduced to us after walking into the office, I think I knew it would be you, Vegas. I admit to being... a little obsessed with you for a while."
Vegas let out a slow, but sharp breath and then tugged Pete down until he was straddling him, much like he had been before, back on the couch. Vegas kind of enjoyed this position—Pete sitting on him, arms pressed between them or around him, Vegas' cock straining to get free of his pants to press against Pete's tight, perky ass.
"You keeping this shirt clued me into that." Vegas grabbed at it, using it to pull Pete closer before looking down at it, feeling the softness of it, fingers brushing over the little flowers. "It looks better on you than it did on me."
"I'm not sure that's true."
"Are you arguing with me, Pete?"
Pete opened his mouth and then quickly snapped it shut, shaking his head. Vegas smiled. "Good boy." Pete preened a little at the word, and then slowly, a hand trailed up from Vegas' chest to his shoulder, and Pete began to gently rock himself downwards over Vegas' quickly stiffening cock.
Vegas groaned, his hands tightening around Pete's hips, but he made no move to stop him.
"I want to... I want to ride you, Vegas. I want to see your face from up here as I take you into my body and we take our pleasure from each other." Pete murmured and then twisted his fingers into the back of Vegas' hair. Vegas stared at him with heavy eyes, gyrating his hips upwards, slowly, letting Pete's ass drag along his restrained cock. "I want to show you how much... how much I want you."
Vegas was tempted to say that Pete showed him all the time, but then realized that Pete meant it in a different way, and so, instead, he nodded wordlessly. Pete smiled and then he glanced down, his fingers finding their way to the buttons of Vegas' shirt, slowly unbuttoning them one at a time. The tip of Pete's pinky finger trailing the slowly exposed skin.
He felt almost breathless at Pete's gentle touch. It was strange. Nobody had ever touched Vegas in this way before, not even Tawan who thought that Vegas was in love with him. But Pete touched him with almost... reverence. He touched him with care and a gentleness that Vegas hadn't known since his mother.
Vegas himself had never thought he even knew how to touch gently, not truly at least. As much as he enjoyed being rough with Pete, throwing him around, wrapping his hands around his throat, bringing his hand down against his ass, there was something special about this moment. Something pivotal that Vegas felt was going to change things.
Pete pressed his hands flat against Vegas' chest and then pushed them outwards, moving Vegas' shirt off his shoulders to pool down around him. Vegas locked his gaze with Pete's, never once looking away as he pushed his shirt onto the ground and then followed it with his shirt that Pete wore.
Their breath mingled between their lips, wordless and soundless. Everything was so silent that the tiniest movements and noises seemed loud. The creak of the mattress as Pete shifted upwards, fingers falling to the button of Vegas' pants. He let him unzip them, inhaling sharply as his eyes blew wide when Pete slipped his hands past his jeans and over the hardness beneath his underwear. Pete rubbed, stroking slowly downwards, fingers tightening around him towards the head.
It took everything Vegas had to not toss Pete down onto the bed and fuck him. Pete had said he wanted to ride him, and Vegas was going to let that desire come to fruition.
Vegas didn't know how long it took, but eventually, all of their clothes were on the floor, leaving nothing between them except the air that traveled through the open valleys between their chests. Vegas' hands pinched and gripped at Pete's ass, pulling his cheeks apart, wanting to dive between and press his fingers, his tongue, into that place Pete had only let him see.
"You have lube?" Vegas murmured, nudging his nose against Pete's. They hadn't kissed yet. Their eyes were getting heavy. Vegas could see the way Pete swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing with excruciating want.
Pete nodded. "Drawer." He gestured to his bedside table, shifting himself so that his cock brushed over Vegas' stomach. Vegas felt a wet line appear. Pete was already pearling at the tip.
"I have a condom in my—"
"No," Pete said quickly and then he blushed red, deep and intoxicating, like the wine they had drunk only hours before. "No condom. Not tonight. I want to feel you. I want you inside of me, really inside of me, filling me with everything. I want to know what that's like."
Vegas' hands tightened on Pete's ass and he watched as Pete whined, but made no move to get away. Vegas thought he'd never been so aroused in his life. He felt hungry, desperate, to be inside Pete exactly as he desired.
"If that's what you want," Vegas said finally, letting his fingers fall between the crevice of Pete's cheeks. "I promise I'm clean."
"I don't care," Pete replied and then he laughed, musical and beautiful. "Is that bad?"
Was it bad? It was dangerous, certainly. Maybe bad too.
Vegas didn't care either.
"Get the lube." Vegas commanded instead of answering. Pete looked at him for a moment and then nodded, leaning over as best he could without having to move off Vegas. Vegas held him, keeping him from falling, as he reached for the drawer, pulling the lube out.
Pete didn't bother to close the drawer and only sat back up, holding the bottle between the two of them. Vegas wanted to kiss him, but it somehow didn't seem the time for it. Not yet.
"Prepare me. I'll prepare you." Vegas took the bottle, spreading some onto his fingers and then handed it back to Pete who did the same before tossing it by their side. Vegas stared into Pete's face as he reached around behind him, fingers stroking over the puckering entrance that Vegas had truly come to think of as his.
Pete bit down on his lip and whined a little, spreading his legs a little further apart on either side of Vegas' hips down to allow him more room before reaching down and stroking his own fingers along Vegas' cock, slickening him up.
Neither of them seemed to want to waste time, yet they took their time, feeling each other, leaning into one another. Vegas was possibly harder than he'd ever been in his life by the time Pete was done preparing him.
They both seemed to feel they'd been preparing long enough because they both moved at once. Pete lifted himself up and Vegas grabbed his cock, helping to guide himself against Pete. Pete clutched at his shoulders, mouth open in breathless gasps as Pete sunk down onto him, his body stretching around Vegas' length.
Pete's mouth gaped open as he pushed down onto him, his arm flung around Vegas's shoulder as he clung to him. He was stunning this way—like an ethereal being, one that only Vegas was privy to.
That's why he kissed him. He kissed him deep and consumingly. Pete gripped the sides of his face, holding Vegas' head to his as if determined to never let Vegas part from his lips. Vegas was more than happy to oblige this, his tongue delving into his mouth and claiming it for himself.
Pete moaned into it. Vegas was pretty sure he moaned back, rocking his hips upwards into Pete's body, so perfectly wrapped around him, squeezing him. It was dizzying, intoxicating, how being inside of Pete bare felt. He didn't do this. Never. Not with Tawan or anyone else, but the idea of being with Pete like this—it was too wonderful an opportunity to pass up.
Every little moan or mewl that fell from Pete's lips was the most beautiful sound that Vegas had ever heard. He wanted to gatekeep them. The idea that anyone else would ever get to hear these sounds created a ball of white flame inside his chest, the fire's tendrils burning outwards to consume him.
He wrapped his arms around Pete, holding the back of his neck as he thrust up into Pete a little harder, bouncing him on top of him.
Pete whined out, cursing against Vegas' lips, rocking himself in time with Vegas' thrusts. His nails dug into Vegas' shoulders, cutting into them, creating his own little marks to claim Vegas just as Vegas' fingers bruised into his hips.
Vegas thought he could stay like this forever if he was given a chance to—with Pete bouncing on top of him, his cock aching and dripping between their stomachs, and maybe he wouldn't want anything else for the rest of his life.
He wondered if Pete felt the same way.
Vegas wrapped his fingers around Pete's cock between them, fingers pinching around his tip, thumb rubbing against his slit before he moved it downwards, using his own precum to slick him up, making it easier for Vegas to stroke his hand around him. Pete was nothing more than a whimpering, whining mess on top of him. Their kisses were more like mouths knocking into each other, touching and tongues licking at each other than actual kisses because of how much Pete was moaning.
He angled himself, thrusting upwards with as much force as he could, aiming for that spot Vegas had come to know like the back of his hand. Vegas clearly made contact because Pete cried out, biting into Vegas' lips until he could taste the iron of blood on his tongue.
The hand not around Pete's cock squeezed at his ass, pinching over the purpling bruises that were already home there, darkening them further, renewing their beauty. Pete was already so close, murmuring incoherently against Vegas' lips, but he wasn't ready to let him come yet, so he squeezed his fingers around his base, shaking his head.
"Not yet." He commanded, eyes wide open as he stared up into Pete's face. His legs trembled as he gulped in gasps of air, nodding his head, hair matted with sweat to his forehead.
Vegas had trouble keeping his eyes open as Pete clenched around him, his entire body tight and trembling. Pete's cock slid along his stomach, hot in his hand as he continued to grip the base of it and Vegas gave a few more quick, but deep, thrusts inside of Pete before spilling himself into the man on top of him.
Pete cried out, leaning his head forward against Vegas' shoulder as he tried not to come himself. Vegas enjoyed the feeling of his own seed surrounding him inside of Pete, fighting to drip out of him.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the shell of Pete's ear, smiling against him. "Come."
At once, Pete clung to him, his body tightening as he cried out and spilled himself across their stomachs. Vegas stroked him through it, hand on his cock and other hand moving gently over his spine. Pete trembled against him, panting as he came down from his high.
When he pulled back to look into Pete's face, eyes glassy and soft smile on his lover's face, Vegas felt warm. Not from the sex, which made him feel plenty warm enough, but from Pete himself, who was a lot of somethings that Vegas had been missing his entire life.
And then Vegas thought of Tawan, the symbol of a lot of other somethings that Vegas had had too much of in his life. He'd never really regretted anything, not even following the orders of his father, helping him achieve his dreams. That's what a good son does, and maybe Vegas wasn't exactly a good son, but he was a son who tried.
But, as he looked into the blissed out, beautiful face of Pete, an expression that Vegas felt he wanted to continue seeing for years to come—for the first time, Vegas regretted something.
And he wasn't sure what could be done about that.