and i'm POSITIVE y'all didn't see another update coming so soon :D
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PETE
Pete's fingers clicked aimlessly at his mouse. Every few minutes, he would mess up and have to re-do the section he had just done, but, for some reason, he just couldn't seem to concentrate no matter how hard he tried.
His eyes kept glancing to the frosted door of Vegas' office and his heart would skip a beat and lodge itself into his throat all at once. Pete's face would warm and he'd quickly turn his eyes back to his computer screen and aimlessly click once again.
Vegas wasn't inside—he had a business meeting. This was why Pete wasn't inside either, but he still couldn't help himself by looking every once in awhile, thinking about how good it'd feel to be pressed against the glass of the door and fucked into a state of feeling like he was stuck in oblivion.
Ever since Vegas had come over just days prior, Pete couldn't stop thinking about Vegas for even a moment. It was a terrifying feeling, one that he really didn't have any idea of what to do with. He could let it out—that would usually end up with his legs spread and Vegas' thrusting his cock into him while saying disgusting, degrading things to him. Pete liked that though. He had no issues with that, but each time that happened—the feeling only got more intense.
Pete thought he had an idea of what that feeling might be, but he didn't really want to acknowledge it. Not yet. If ever. He couldn't.
Could he?
His phone buzzed and he picked it up from next to his hand, leaning back into his desk chair as he looked at the message, a frown settling on his face.
Maprang: I'm coming over tonight. I think we need to talk.
Pete's fingers hovered over his phone screen. He hadn't talked to Maprang since their fight. Truth be told, he didn't really want to talk to Maprang. He wasn't sure what to say. Apologize for his words? He couldn't. He wouldn't mean it, but he could.
But wasn't that just his life? Saying a lot of things he didn't mean and pretending like he did? Pretending to his father he cared at all about boxing. Saying that he was hoping for a normal, happy relationship with a good woman, just as his grandparents and society expected of him?
For the longest time, that was the issue where the confusion was for Pete. He'd started thinking things about himself and he couldn't really tell if they were true or not. The lies had eventually become so entangled with his reality that in the end even his true self had become muddled in his eyes.
Pete hadn't known in the least who he was. Not until Vegas. Vegas was helping him learn a lot about himself. Maybe not all of it was good—but not every little thing about a person could be good. Pete didn't even necessarily believe in "good" and "bad". People were just people. Fallible. Mistake-ridden. Easily influenced and easily malleable.
He didn't think he was necessarily being influenced by Vegas though. Vegas was just helping Pete see the him that was always there.
"Hey!"
Pete jumped as hands came down on his shoulders. He swung around on reflex, his fist hitting against the arm who had grabbed him. He heard the grunt of pain before he even saw the person's face and he winced, looking up at Porsche with apology.
"I'm sorry! You spooked me. What are you doing sneaking up on someone like that? I told you I did boxing."
"I forgot," Porsche whined, rubbing his arm before lowering himself onto the edge of Pete's desk, like he often did when visiting Pete. Not that he had visited Pete much in recent weeks. In fact, they hadn't talked much at all.
Pete wondered if that was his fault, if he had been too distracted by Vegas to remember that he had friends he should probably interact with once in a while. Then he realized that it was a two-way street and he was pretty sure that Porsche hadn't interacted with him either.
"What are you doing here?" Pete hoped he didn't come across as rude, especially for a friend he hadn't hung out with in awhile, but the spook and the fact that Porsche's ass was sitting on some papers that he needed was somewhat annoying him.
"Can't I just want to come see you?" Porsche feigned hurt, placing his hand on his chest. Pete squinted his eyes with a slight smile and then shook his head. Porsche laughed and nodded, giving a small shrug. "Honestly, I did actually just come to see you. Wanted to know if you wanted to get lunch today. Or if you had... other plans."
Pete didn't fail to miss the way that Porsche's eyes flickered to Vegas' office door. His ears warmed and he cleared his throat, quickly turning back to his computer to save his work and log out.
"Nope, no plans." It would be nice to get lunch with Porsche actually. Catch up a bit. Pete had a few questions of his own to hound his old friend with. "Cafeteria? Or did you have someplace else in mind?"
Porsche scrunched his face slightly as he thought before he beamed and pointed in the general direction of outside. "How about across the street at that new ramen place? I've been wanting to try it."
Pete nodded with a smile, grabbing his phone from his desk to stuff into his pants as he stood up. "Sounds good to me."
"Great!" Porsche cheered, jumping up and swinging an arm around Pete's shoulders. Porsche was quite a bit taller than Pete—not that Pete was short, he was just average, but Porsche's weight was annoying and so Pete playfully pushed him off, quickly darting for the elevator and hitting the ground floor button as quickly as he could.
Porsche ran in after him, giving him a joking glare. Pete just shrugged again and the two were on their way down and across the street for lunch.
"This is a nice place." Pete mused as he looked around. He hadn't been in the restaurant either. It was sleek with pure black booths. In the middle of the room, a large fish tank—almost too large to be called a fish tank, Pete almost wanted to call it an aquarium—separated the booths from an area with a sushi conveyor belt for the customers who wanted to sit there.
Would Vegas like this sort of place? It wasn't anything incredibly fancy but it was nice. And the booths were fairly secluded and there were all types of ramen—or sushi. Pete wondered if Vegas liked sushi or if that was something he'd be willing to try if he hadn't tried it. He knew he preferred western foods, but Vegas was exactly what he'd call "high class" and wasn't sushi somewhat more of a classy dish? Could you get classier than raw fish—
"Pete!" Porsche waved his hand in front of Pete's face who, once again, jumped, his eyes wide as he looked at his friend. Porsche gave a slightly bemused laugh and then lowered himself into a booth. "Thought I lost you for a second."
"You didn't lose me." Pete assured, slowly sitting down. He couldn't pull his thoughts from Vegas. He was acting like a damn school kid with a crush, something which he wasn't even sure he'd had as a school aged kid.
"That's good, especially since—" Porsche stopped abruptly and shook his head, picking up the menu and holding it in front of his face. "Nevermind."
Pete blinked at him and then reached forward, pushing down the menu back onto the table. "No, Porsche, tell me. Especially since... what?"
Porsche let out a deep exhale, looking like he was trying to think of something to say before the waiter got to their table and he straightened up, looking more ecstatic than he had in the entire ten minutes they'd been together.
Pete let him order while he gave a quick glance over the menu, eventually opting for the spiciest ramen they had on the menu, along with a spicy tuna roll—he didn't know the last time he'd had sushi and wasn't about to pass up the opportunities for one of his favorites, especially since Vegas didn't like spicy food and Pete had eventually taken slight pity on him lowered his spice intake on any food they ordered to share.
"So," Porsche began, taking a sip of his soda. "How is life treating you?"
Pete tossed him a weird glance and then shrugged. "Work is good. Pretty much the same as always, but it's good. I like it. Other than that, there hasn't been that much going on." His mind flashed with the images of himself, naked beneath Vegas as Vegas grasped his hips, thrusting into his body until he was a whimpering mess.
Then he grabbed his own soda to take a long drink, letting the coldness of it cool him off.
"Really? That's it? Nothing else to say?"
"What about you?" Pete quickly tried to turn the subject around onto Porsche. "I haven't seen or heard from you much lately either, what's going on with you?"
Porsche rubbed at the back of his head, looking a little sheepish and like he was trying to hold something back before, finally, he sighed and bowed his head.
"I have been seeing someone actually. For a few months now."
Pete's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Wait, months?" Pete tried to think back, wondering if he had seen Porsche talking to anyone or texting with anyone or talking about them. He didn't think that Porsche was very good at hiding secrets, but, then again, Pete had been a little unfocused as of late.
"Months." Porsche nodded and then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Okay, we're keeping it kind of on the downlow, as in we haven't really told anyone, even though I'm pretty sure his father knows because he kind of knows about everything—"
"Yeah, he, surprising, right? Me? In a relationship with a man?" Porsche laughed nervously. "I don't know, it just kind of, like, happened? And it works? I really really like him, Pete—fuck, maybe even love, I don't know!"
"Love?" Pete's mind was reeling with all of the sudden information being told to him. Porsche, the man he'd always known as a sort of a playboy, bagging on the girls, and kind of a club fiend, was in love?
With a man?!
Pete really hadn't been paying attention to anything other than Vegas at all these last few months.
"Yeah, I kind of think so, that it might be love—anyway, I'm seeing... I'm seeing Khun Kinn."
It was Pete's unfortunate timing that he'd been taking a drink of his soda to try and clear his shock over the information and ended up spitting it out, dribbling it down his chin. Porsche snickered and Pete shot him a quick glare, grabbing a couple of napkins to wipe his face.
"Khun Kinn? As in your boss? Our boss? The boss?" Vegas' cousin?
Pete's head was reeling. He felt like he'd stepped into some alternate reality and wasn't entirely sure what surprising, new information that Pete had never even thought possible would be unloaded onto him next, and, for a second, he thought that Porsche was joking.
But Porsche nodded his head, almost like he couldn't believe it himself and leaned back into his seat, letting out a huge breath, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and Pete knew—Porsche wasn't joking.
"Isn't that crazy? But I don't know. Maybe it's not that crazy if I'm feeling this way, right?"
Pete could only nod because he truly had no idea of what to say. A silence fell over the table and Pete wasn't entirely sure how long it lasted before the waiter came back with their ramen and sushi, sliding it onto the table. Porsche and Pete both thanked them and then quickly dug in.
The spices exploded into Pete's mouth, a flurry of flavors that felt like the hottest heat of summer on his tongue. It cleared his mind and senses in a strange way. It also reminded him of how hot his body got when Vegas' hands were on him. A fiery heat, unstoppable and unquenchable.
Pete grabbed his glass of water he'd yet to touch and took a large gulp.
"So I told you what's going on with me." Porsche stated, pushing a good helping of noodles into his mouth. "Now it's your turn."
"My turn?" Pete blinked at him. "I've told you what's going on with me. Same old. Nothing new. Nothing—"
"How's Maprang?"
Pete's words died on his lips, his chopsticks hovering in front of his mouth dangling with pork and noodles. "She's fine..."
"Is she?" Porsche pushed lightly, letting his chopsticks drop back into his bowl. "I was just wondering because I heard..." Porsche trailed off and then he bit on his lip, glancing around. Pete stared at him, silently begging him not to say it, but then he leaned forward, opened his mouth, and killed Pete's hopes. "Pete, I've heard some rumors about you and... Khun Vegas."
Pete cleared his throat, choking on the saliva in his mouth a little, fingers tightening their grip on the wooden sticks. "They're just rumors."
"So... you've heard them too?"
Pete grimaced, glancing out the window. His appetite was suddenly lowered and he had a cold feeling in his chest. So this was why Porsche had wanted to get lunch with him. Not because he genuinely wanted to spend time with his "friend", but because he wanted to scold him on some rumors he had heard and didn't even know if they were true.
He'd been able to tell that people were whispering. Pete had been spending a lot of time with Vegas and that would be enough to incite rumors all on its own, but Pete knew... perhaps they hadn't exactly been careful.
Perhaps neither of them had particularly cared about being careful.
"Don't scold me, Porsche."
"Scold you? I—"
Pete turned to look at him, hands gripping at his knees beneath the booth. "Not when you're dating your boss."
Porsche stared at him and then scoffed before leaning back into his seat. He looked unlike himself. A little older perhaps, or more mature. Not the unfocused, unserious person that Pete had known for years.
"I'm not the one who is in a serious relationship... on top of dating my boss."
Pete flinched. Porsche had him there. He wished he could deny it, say that it wasn't anything serious, he didn't mean anything bad by it but... that would likely all be a lie.
It was serious. It was getting serious. As far as not meaning anything bad by it, well, sure, he didn't want to hurt Maprang, but Pete had to admit... there was something intoxicating about having an affair.
And getting away with it.
"It just happened." Pete finally said, lowering his head to look down at the tabletop. "I don't know how. I've been attracted to him since he became head of the sales department. It's like there'd been something dormant inside of me and Vegas uncaged it, let it out, and it's thankful to him and now loyal to him. I can't shake him—I don't want to."
"That doesn't sound healthy, Pete."
Pete had to laugh a little. This, he knew already. There was nothing healthy about the relationship between him and Vegas. How could there be, when it was built on top of lies and cheating?
And similar traumas that had far reaching impact on who they both were as people—hidden behind masks of lies, only let out when it was dark and nobody was looking. Nobody but each other. It felt like an addiction.
One Pete really didn't want to shake.
"You do know that Vegas is also engaged, don't you?"
Pete wanted to open his mouth at once and say that he's not engaged because he wants to be engaged, but because his father is forcing him to, but he doesn't. As much as he trusts Porsche with his own secrets, he's not sure he trusts Porsche with Vegas' secrets, and he's not about to betray him.
"I know he's engaged. He knows I'm in a relationship. We're grown adults and we made this decision. Together." A bad decision. Pete knew this. He never said he didn't know this. But Pete had never made bad decisions in his life. They were always good decisions. Decisions others wanted him to make, ones that pleased them.
Shouldn't Pete be allowed to make a bad decision for once?
"This isn't you, Pete." Porsche shook his head with a sigh. "And Vegas—god, he's Kinn's cousin, do you know how much I've had to hear about him?"
"What have you heard?" Pete asked quickly because this was something he was interested in, but also something he was wary about. What sort of things was the eldest heir to the Theerapanyakul dynasty saying about the cousin Pete knows he hates?
Porsche shook his head for a moment and then inhaled deeply, looking across at Pete with something akin to pity. That just angered Pete, causing him to clench his hands into fists beneath the table, but he held himself back from saying anything, wanting to hear what Porsche said first.
"The guy Vegas is engaged to—you know he was Kinn's lover first, right?"
Pete's breath caught in his throat. Tawan was... Kinn's lover? Well, he supposed there were stranger things than dating the ex of your cousin whom you don't even have a good relationship with. Was it really a big deal?
He shook his head.
"And when I say he was his lover, Pete. I mean that Vegas stole him. He seduced him and got him to cheat on Kinn and now they're engaged. This is a habit for him." Porsche's voice sounded far away as Pete heard what he said. Kinn had been dating Tawan. Vegas seduced Tawan. Tawan cheated on Kinn. Now they're engaged. "What makes you think he isn't going to do the same thing to you?"
Pete was dating Maprang. Vegas and Pete had entered a mutual affair. It was hardly the same thing.
But it also wasn't all that different.
Pete bit down on his lip and then looked up at Porsche. "You're trying to say you think Vegas is going to dump me or cheat on me with someone else one day."
Porsche stared at him. "It's not out of the realm of possibilities... that is, if you two actually ever enter into a real relationship. You know an affair isn't a relationship, do you?" Pete's heart thudded painfully in his chest. His throat closed up, making it difficult for him to breathe. "Have you two talked about it? Has he said he's going to leave Tawan for you?"
Pete wanted to say yes. He couldn't. They hadn't talked about it. It'd never even crossed their tongues. Maybe, somewhere in the back of Pete's head he had wondered about it, but never too much.
Maybe he was afraid of the answer.
Pete cleared his throat and shook his head. "Why would we talk about that? Vegas and I... aren't really all that serious."
Porsche stared at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding me, Pete? I know what love looks like when I see it, and I see it written all over you, clear as fucking day. It's a wonder Maprang hasn't seen it. Or has she?" Porsche added at the sudden widening of Pete's eyes.
Love. The L Word. The four letter word that everybody on Earth hoped to hear one day, hoped to feel towards someone who felt it back to them.
Porsche said he could see it written all over Pete. Pete wanted to deny it, tried to even when opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out—"I don't love Vegas".
Because they weren't true.
He did love Vegas.
And Vegas was trapped in a relationship that his father had put him in, and Pete honestly wasn't sure if there was a way out of it for him.
Fuck.
VEGAS
Vegas rubbed at the watch on his wrist, checking it and then sighing as he stared at the door to his father's office. He'd been called in to give him a briefing on everything that had happened while he was on his trip, told a certain time, and then been made to wait going on thirty minutes. He shouldn't be surprised in the least, as this wasn't the first time this had happened, but Vegas was annoyed.
He was annoyed that his father was keeping him waiting, and he was annoyed that no matter how many times he sent a text to Pete—either complaining about his father or asking for a distraction—the texts went unread and unanswered.
It was strange, because, usually, Pete was very good about answering his messages. Vegas hadn't really had the chance to text much today, but he'd had a few times in the morning before his business meeting that never seemed to have wanted to end. Pete had answered those just fine, and then the lunch hour came up when Vegas had expected to be sending him all sorts of lewd messages as usual, only for it to be radio silence.
And radio silence since then, which Vegas hadn't even noticed until he'd gotten out of all his meetings. Vegas had thought, okay, maybe Pete just hadn't wanted to distract him, but when he sent the message to let Pete know he was out and that he could really use a picture to cheer up his mood, he'd gotten nothing in return.
This was unusual. Pete was so good about answering so why wasn't he answering?
Vegas pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening his messages with Pete. He had no notification but sometimes the notifications didn't work all that well so maybe... but no, there was nothing there. Was there something wrong with the app? Should Vegas hire a team to make a new app that doesn't crap out when he's trying to talk to Pete?
He shook his head and pushed his phone back into his pocket. That was ridiculous. Pete was probably just busy, or... something.
It was grinding on his nerves though. He could really use Pete's distraction as he sat outside in the hall before his father's office, waiting like some business partner that his father didn't want to see, instead of his goddamn son who was there on his orders.
Vegas grit his teeth and closed his eyes, letting out a slow, sharp exhale to try and calm himself down.
The sound of a door opening snapped his eyes open and Vegas quickly stood to see his father at the door, looking at him with paramount disapproval over something Vegas was sure he'd likely fucked up. He tried to think back, but nothing came to mind.
His father gestured him in and Vegas quickly followed, closing the door behind them.
Kan Theerapanyakul's office was all dark woods and bookshelves with old whiskeys and spirits sitting in a bar in a corner. It wasn't too dissimilar to Vegas' own office, but something about it made Vegas feel distinctly uncomfortable, like he wasn't welcome and shouldn't touch anything. Perhaps it was his history as a child, poking his head into places he shouldn't be, a lot of the time being his father's office. He'd touch something and then there'd be a harsh smack to the back of his head and his father's finger pointing towards the door, yelling at him to get out.
Vegas still remembered the stinging feeling of tears at the back of his eyes and tried to shake it off. He was an idiot boy who'd done things he shouldn't. Of course his father wouldn't have been pleased with him.
"Sit." Kan stated, pointing at a chair in front of the desk, looking fully displeased that Vegas was here, like Vegas had come unannounced or something.
Vegas had to fight the urge to remind him that he was here on his orders.
"So, I've been away for a little while. Tell me how everything is going, Vegas, and leave nothing out."
So Vegas told him, starting with the company and how sales were going. They were down a little. His father seemed pleased by this, in all likelihood because, the worse the company did, the easier it would be to take over later on. There really wasn't much to report back on, but Vegas made sure to give every little detail he could think of, knowing that if he didn't, and he forgot something, and his father found out—Kan would not be pleased.
"And Tawan?" Kan asked towards the end of their meeting. The mention of the name made Vegas grimace and Kan scoff. "Why? Disgusted with having to be in a relationship with him? Any relationship you'd be in is disgusting, Vegas, you might as well use it for the family's benefit. I don't want to see you acting like your lifestyle is normal. I allow it in this case because it's good for us."
The urge to talk back was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to point out how hypocritical it was of his father to use his sexuality for his own benefit and then belittle him for that very same reason. But he couldn't. He couldn't talk back and that created a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he'd eaten something rotten and now he was paying for it.
He couldn't argue against his father, not in defense of himself at least. If it was Macau, he would say something, but Vegas deserved these lashings anyway. He could handle them.
Vegas inhaled and then exhaled slowly, trying to contain his annoyance and push back his words. As soon as he finished with this meeting with his father, then he could leave and be on his way—and he could find out why Pete had been ignoring him all day.
He touched the phone discreetly in his pocket. It still hadn't buzzed or notified him of a text. Something had to be wrong.
"Tawan is doing fine. His trip got extended by a few weeks, but he'll be back soon. I text him daily and have facetimed him a few times to keep him... happy." Kan made a face at those words, shaking his head as he picked up the glass of whiskey on his desk to take a drink.
Vegas shifted in his seat. "Once he is back, we'll put the next step into motion—figuring out a wedding date." His hands tightened around the arms of the chair, the idea of marrying Tawan getting more and more unbearable. But he had no choice in the matter.
"You'll do it soon, and you'll do it right, Vegas. You also need to start laying the groundwork in his head to let us buy his family's company."
"I am—I will." Vegas assured.
"It's all part of the plan. If any of these details feel off or if you don't commit to it, then everything is going to go wrong, do you understand, Vegas?"
Vegas grit his teeth a little and then nodded. "I understand, papa."
Kan stared at him from across his desk and then turned to some folders he had lying in front of him. "Good. I don't want any missteps. This is too important for you to fuck up like you fuck up everything else. Now get out. Stop wasting my time."
Vegas watched his father for a moment, chest tight, and then he stood, pushing up from his chair to spin on his heel and walk from the room. Wasting his time... he was the one who had called Vegas there!
Vegas' head was pounding, skin hot as his anger flared inside of him. He did his best to swallow it down, but once he was outside, away from the prying eyes of any people who worked for his father, he paced back and forth, trying to calm his nerves.
He slammed his shoe into a small rock, kicking it across the pavement, and then ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his face as he looked up. The sun was setting over the horizon, but it was only about 6PM so it wasn't too late just yet.
His fingers itched and he let out a huff, grabbing his phone from his pocket, quickly swiping up and entering his messages with Pete. There was no response. But, unlike earlier, the messages were marked read.
Worry suddenly swept over Vegas, a thought that Vegas hadn't even previously contemplated entering his mind.
What if something had happened to Pete?
Vegas quickly pressed call and brought his phone up to his ear. It rang and Vegas tapped his foot against the ground, feeling suddenly anxious—an emotion he wasn't entirely familiar with, at least when it didn't concern doing something his father commanded of him.
The call went to voicemail. Vegas cursed.
"Pete, if you get this call, you better call me back. I'm not fucking around. You've been ignoring me all day, and I'm unamused." Vegas closed his eyes and then softened his voice. "I'm just worried. I'm coming over." Vegas hung up his phone and checked his pocket for his car keys before quickly turning and heading to his car.
He needed to see Pete.
PETE
Pete stared at his ceiling. When he was tired of staring at his ceiling, he rolled over onto his side, pillow clutched in his arms and beneath his head, and stared at the wall. Unfortunately, that got even more boring quite quickly, so Pete rolled back onto his back to continue staring at the ceiling.
He hated admitting it, but perhaps the conversation with Porsche earlier had gotten to him a little.
Not in the way that it should have gotten to him though. This he had to admit. Pete should be feeling wracked with guilt, sick with it, hating himself for ever doing something so horrible as cheating on Maprang. He didn't. Instead he was worrying over Porsche's words about Tawan—about how first, Tawan was Kinn's and then Vegas stole him and okay. Maybe Pete wasn't all that worried about Vegas suddenly cheating on him, but... Porsche was right.
Pete did love Vegas and with love came expectations. Expectations that maybe he and Vegas could actually be something, because they weren't. Not yet. Not truly. They were an affair behind their partner's backs and sure, maybe Pete could gather up the courage to break up with Maprang and let down his grandparents eventually, but Pete knew why Vegas was in a relationship with Tawan.
Was that something Vegas would be willing to let go of just for... him? Was Pete worth angering his father, letting him down, being a failure in Kan Theerapanyakul's eyes? Pete wasn't so sure about that. If he was in Vegas' shoes, would he end things with Tawan, let down his father, all to be with someone whose relationship had started with an affair and was doomed to probably fail anyway?
Maybe. Pete had never really cared much about making his father proud. At least, not after the beating when he'd first won a match and he realized he would never make his father proud. It was an impossible ambition, one that Pete was fairly sure that Vegas shared, and just hadn't yet figured out would always be impossible.
And Pete didn't know how to articulate any of this to Vegas, so that was why he'd been ignoring his messages all day.
The fact of the matter was, when Pete thought of the idea of spending who knew how long sneaking around with Vegas, fucking in dark corners where anyone could find them and expose them, his first instinct was excitement—only to be quickly be replaced by bitterness.
He didn't really want to sneak around. Maybe they didn't have to be truly open about it because, frankly, it was no one's business at the office anyway, but as much as it felt like he and Vegas had a relationship, you couldn't have a true relationship with someone already in a relationship. But would he and Vegas ever even be allowed to be in one? Vegas was to be married.
Was that still something he was willing to do, even though Pete was right here and head over heels, crazy in love with him? He'd never said the words aloud of course. But he felt them, deeply, fully, completely—and he thought Vegas felt them too. He wondered if Vegas could tell the emotions twisting inside of Pete, all aimed directly at him.
And, if not, how was he supposed to bring any of this up to Vegas?
So he ignored as his phone buzzed next to him, long since having turned down the sound on his phone so that the notification of a call was just a vibration against his mattress. Pete stared at the name on his screen, desperate to answer and hear Vegas' voice, but knowing he needed to clear his mind and think first.
He needed to think about Maprang, as much as he didn't want to, and if it was fair to keep her as a backup in case things didn't work out with Vegas. He laughed lightly at his own thoughts. Maprang, a backup.
Did that even make sense? How was it his actual girlfriend had become the backup for his secret affair with his boss? As if he and Vegas had ever even really discussed this going any further. In fact, Pete thought they had rather pointedly ignored the looming end to this all, even in all of their discussion about marriages.
It's not like Pete expected him and Vegas to get married. That was the last thing on his mind, but was it so wrong to want a real relationship with him? To think of Tawan and taste bitterness on his tongue knowing that Vegas was promised to someone else and that, in all likelihood, there was no getting out of it?
Pete jumped as the doorbell rang throughout his apartment. He glanced at his phone, seeing it was nearing 6:30PM and wondered who it could be because he wasn't expecting anything. Then it hit him—Vegas.
He'd been ignoring his messages all day and Vegas was the type of person to show up unannounced—well, he had called. And Pete had ignored him. Again.
With a slight groan, Pete rolled himself off of his bed and slowly walked towards his front door. He looked through the eyehole and sighed as he confirmed that it was indeed Vegas, before pulling the door open to face his lover-boss. Or was it boss-lover? Pete was entirely unsure which word he should put first.
"Are you alright?" Vegas rushed the words out and Pete blinked, taking a small step back.
"Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be?"
Vegas' expression of pure worry slid from his face only for a flash of annoyance and anger to replace it. He stepped into Pete's apartment, forcing Pete backwards, and then slammed the door behind him.
"Then why the fuck have you been ignoring me all day, Pete?" There was a trembling rage to Vegas' voice, one Pete hadn't heard before. It made his back stiffen and his hands clench together in front of him. Pete knew that Vegas could get angry, that he had a temper. He'd seen it before and had heard all sorts of rumors.
It had never been turned towards him though and it felt like one wrong move or wrong word could make Vegas explode.
"I needed to think." Pete murmured finally, taking a few steps away to sit down at his dining table, holding his head in his hands. "I have a headache."
"A headache, from me?"
"No," Pete shook his head, denying, even though it was partially true. He lifted his head, turning to look at Vegas whose temper was hanging on by a single thread, burned at the tip and worn out, verging on breaking in half. "I've been thinking about what to do with Maprang."
The anger on Vegas' face turned into confusion. "Maprang? You've been ignoring me because you've been feeling guilty over your darling girlfriend?"
Pete didn't bother correcting him about whether or not he was feeling guilty. It wasn't important if Vegas thought that was what was plaguing Pete's mind. It'd be the normal thing to plague Pete's mind—if he was normal. Pete was starting to realize that he wasn't.
He was starting to realize that, maybe, there was something incredibly wrong with him.
Pete dropped his arms to fold onto the table, staring up at Vegas with a firm expression. "I was also thinking about Tawan."
The confusion on Vegas' face got only greater. Pete may have laughed, if this was any other situation. It wasn't often that Vegas showed confusion—confusion was lack of control over a situation, and if there was one thing that Pete knew Vegas liked, it was control.
"Tawan? You've been thinking about my—"
"—your fiance, yes." Pete pursed his lips with a sigh, wondering how much, exactly, he should be bringing up. But the jealousy at the thought of that person twisted at his insides and his words spilled out. "Is it true he was Kinn's lover first and you stole him?"
Vegas straightened up, emotion sliding from his face for a brief moment before his lips twitched and he laughed. Vegas pressed one hand down against the top of the table and leaned forward until his face was inches from Pete's. He reached up, grabbing Pete's chin between his thumb and index finger. The touch made Pete melt a little, his eyes growing heavy, but he fought it off, staring up at Vegas with all the determination for an answer he could muster.
"Is my little slut jealous?" Vegas' voice was smooth and deep. There was a strange softness to it that Vegas' voice always had, yet firm all at once. It created a burning fire in the pit of Pete's stomach that almost consumed him, and it took all of Pete's will to pull his face from Vegas' grasp and smack his hand away, shooting him a glare.
"Vegas. Answer." Pete didn't usually demand things like this and it was obvious that this fact hadn't been lost on Vegas as he looked a little taken aback by Pete's sudden attitude.
Vegas pursed his lips and then straightened up, placing his hand that had been gripping Pete's chin on the back of the chair next to him. "Yes, I stole Tawan. I like having things that Kinn cherishes. Tawan was one of those things. I was going to toss him aside like the trash he is, but father thought we could use the situation to our advantage. So," Vegas lifted a hand, gesturing to the air around them. "Here we are."
"You have a habit of pulling people into cheating." Pete said. He wasn't really asking Vegas a question, he'd already realized. He felt strange at the realization as well. Did this mean that Pete wasn't special? How did Vegas see him?
Vegas just stared at him and then leaned back down, placing his other hand on the back of Pete's chair, effectively trapping him against the table. "You have no right to judge me, Pete. You entered into this aware I was engaged and in a serious relationship yourself. I didn't make you cheat, just like I didn't make Tawan cheat, or any of the others cheat. They all cheated because there was something lacking in their relationship that they thought they could find with me."
"And what about you?" Pete swallowed, tongue flicking out to wet his dry lips. "Were you looking for something in all of that? Besting your cousin? Did you find it?"
Vegas stayed silent, clearly at a loss for words and unsure of how to respond. Pete pushed himself up, forcing Vegas to straighten, and took a small step forward, their bodies a hair's breadth away from each other.
"What about me?" Pete murmured. "What is it you got out of this with me? What is it you want with me?"
Vegas hesitated, his lips parting for a moment before he let out a sharp breath, the smirk returning to his face. "Do I have to want something more than your body, Pete? You were practically throwing yourself at me. Your attraction was painfully obvious. And I was bored. I'm enjoying our little game, aren't you?"
Pete thought the words would hurt as Vegas spoke, but he realized something as they fell from Vegas' lips.
Vegas was lying.
Was he aware that he was lying? Or was he pushing that back, just like he did with so many things, Pete wondered. This filled Pete with a mix of emotions, conflicting and all-consuming, but the foremost one was excitement.
Excitement over the fact that Vegas was lying that he only wanted Pete's body. Excitement because this was definitely more than just a game to Vegas. This was important to him.
Just like it was to Pete.
But, unlike Pete, he was trapped in an impossible situation. Pete could easily end his relationship with Maprang if it came down to it, Vegas could not. And this? This terrified Pete.
"Then if it's a game, maybe we should stop it, Vegas." Vegas flinched back at the words, clearly not having expected them, and Pete continued with another punch. "If you're going to marry Tawan, then there's no future or point to any of this. Shouldn't we stop it now before it becomes something more than just a game?"
Pete realized as he watched Vegas, that Vegas' eyes were incredibly telling. The emotions shone clear in them. He was easy to read. At least for Pete—who could look straight through the mask that Vegas tried so hard to put up. Pete saw every emotion as it flickered across Vegas' face; confusion, terror, panic, hurt, rage, love.
Rage seemed to be the one that Vegas clung to because Pete suddenly found Vegas' hands on him, gripping him tightly, bruisingly, his face flashing with a darkness that Pete had always sensed but felt that Vegas worked hard to keep at bay.
Pete gasped, flinching, but didn't try to free himself from the grasp, didn't try to even move.
Vegas shook him and Pete stared up at him with wide eyes, mouth falling open just a little. "You are mine, Pete. You belong to me already. There's no going back from this. You entered into this with me and you're going to stay in it with me. You're not... allowed to leave me."
Pete swallowed tightly, feeling his body tremble slightly as his breath began to come out in short, quick pants. His arms ached from where Vegas had grabbed him, but still, he didn't try to escape.
"Vegas—" he murmured, swallowing down tightly as he tried to voice his thoughts.
Vegas' grip only tightened. "Are you scared of me, Pete?"
Pete looked at him and then slowly nodded. "Terrified."
But he wasn't terrified with the meaning that most would mean. He knew he should be scared, horrified even. This side of Vegas was not a good side, it wasn't something that he should encourage, but the pure anger that came over Vegas at the thought of Pete ending things sent a euphoric feeling of triumph shooting through Pete's entire body.
And that was what terrified Pete—how utterly unfrightened he was of the bruising grasp on his arm. How, instead, Vegas' anger and possessiveness only aroused Pete more than he'd ever been aroused in his life.
There was something deeply wrong with Pete, he knew this. But there was also something deeply wrong with Vegas—and didn't that make them the perfect match?
Pete reached up and pulled Vegas' head in, the kiss almost as bruising as Vegas' grip on his arms. Vegas gasped into it, taken off guard, and the two of them stumbled away from the table. Pete's fingers dug into the side of Vegas' face and the back of his head. His teeth eagerly bit at Vegas' lower lip, tugging it into his mouth as if he was starving and it was a delectable treat meant only for him.
Hands grabbed at his waist and then slid down to his ass, squeezing until Pete let out a little whimper into Vegas' mouth. Pete lowered his hands to Vegas' shoulders and steadied himself before jumping up. Vegas caught his thighs, helping him wrap his legs around his waist.
The sound of their lips filled the entire room, little moans and gasps in between.
"Fuck me," Pete breathed out when he pulled back, nipping at Vegas' lips. Vegas' hands clenched on his thighs, the same bruising grip that had been on his arms. "Fuck me right here. Against this wall. Fill me with your cum like your desperate, little bitch Vegas."
Vegas groaned, eyes dark as he stared at Pete. He held him tightly, backing him up until Pete's head roughly hit the back of his wall. He groaned, tilting his head back for a moment, but worked to keep his eyes on Vegas. It was a clear signal—he wanted to be marked.
"You're a filthy slut, aren't you, Pete?" Vegas' fingers worked at Pete's pants. He kept Pete held against the wall with the force of his own body as his hand tugged Pete's pants down. Pete clung to him, letting one leg slide out of the pants and then the other along with his boxers before wrapping both his legs back around Vegas' waist, grinding himself down on the bulge that was forming in Vegas' own pants.
The fabric of Vegas' pants was soft, but the friction had Pete moaning like a whore, smacking his head back against his apartment wall as his cock twitched against his stomach. He loved being Vegas' slut—a hole for Vegas to use as he saw fit. Pete is pretty sure these words spilled from his mouth, but he was already feeling too hot to think.
Vegas' hand found its way to Pete's throat, wrapping around it until Pete could hardly breathe. He gasped for oxygen, rutting his hips down.
"Pl-please..." Pete begged, hands clawing at Vegas' shirt. "Fuck me. I need you inside, Vegas. I'm so tight—so hot. It'll feel so fucking good for you, I promise." Pete didn't know why he was trying to negotiate as if Vegas was on the verge of not fucking him, but he felt like he needed to.
Vegas clearly enjoyed it because his eyes flashed with lust and the hand not on Pete's throat, applying steady pressure to his windpipe, trailed down between them, quickly undoing his own pants and pushing them down just far enough for his cock to break free of the fabric holding it back.
Pete felt it press against his ass and moaned, wantonly rolling his hips down, eager for it to be inside of him. Vegas leaned forward, applying a kiss just next to his thumb, where his pulse was racing wildly against his throat.
"I'm going to fuck you raw, Pete. Until you're crying and screaming and begging—you'll probably bleed, but I want you to know who you belong to." Pete nodded along with it. Fine, fine, he was more than fine with this—as long as Vegas did it soon. "Tell me who you belong to, Pete."
"You!" Pete cried out without hesitation, his hands still grasping at Vegas' shirt, wanting it off, wanting to feel skin against his own. "I belong to you! Please! I can't wait anymore, please—I need you!"
Vegas also didn't seem to be able to wait anymore, because in the next moment, Pete was being breached. He whined and clenched his eyes shut, the raw, dry skin feeling as if it was tearing him. Vegas went slow, clearly intent on not hurting him too much, but this only frustrated Pete.
He wanted it to hurt. He wanted to bleed. He wanted to be owned by Vegas.
"Just thrust in—" Pete gasped out, feeling lightheaded and dizzy and like he was losing himself. "Go in all the way!"
There was hesitation. Almost as if Vegas was aware of how much it would probably hurt Pete, but then Pete clenched around him and all hesitation flew out the window as Vegas slammed Pete into the wall, thrusting his cock fully into his body.
Pete cried out through the hand on his throat. He must've bitten his tongue because it suddenly throbbed as the obvious tang of iron filled his mouth. Vegas leaned forward, capturing his mouth with his and Pete panted and moaned into the kiss.
It was all teeth, all tongue. Hands gripping everywhere. Pete didn't know where he ended and Vegas began. Vegas was so deep and so hot inside of him—his pre-come and Pete's blood slickening his path inside of him.
This was how it was supposed to be. This was right. Pete didn't want anything else in his life except Vegas inside of him, fitting into that missing puzzle piece's slot so perfectly.
He didn't care about Tawan or Maprang or any of it—all he wanted was Vegas.
There was a crash near the door and Pete's eyes snapped open to look behind Vegas. A purse, spilled of all its contents, on the ground, and a girl with an ashen face and wide, shock-filled eyes stood in the doorway.
Maprang.
Maprang: I'm coming over tonight. I think we need to talk.