“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”
Left behind in the deserted garage, Vegas is spiralling, and not in a good way—again.
One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you … NO! No no no.
Just as he swore, he’s learned his lesson. No more pills. No more booze. And he has learned the other lesson as well. No Tem. And better no Porsche either.
And that’s what makes this downward spiral so fucking difficult to cope with. Where is my safety net, Vegas wonders, still standing rooted to the spot between the rows of parked cars, where is the damn light in the darkness when you need it? And why does he even bother? Why not just fall and crash? He’s living on borrowed time anyway, isn’t he? Why not sooner rather than later? Bad thoughts, very bad thoughts.
Deep down Vegas feels like a hurt little boy. He keeps investing feelings in people only to get bitterly disappointed. And who is that Tawan person anyway? How long has he known Pete? Is he really Pete’s type?
Everyone leaves. Somehow he gets trampled into the dust every time he decides to open up to someone. Standing in that garage, watching Pete drive away with his ‘on-again, off-again’ felt as if he had a wound that won’t stop bleeding, and he can’t find any bandaids that fit. What does Tawan have that I don’t have? Why would you pick him over me?
I’m not a toy, he thinks dejectedly. And he sure as hell didn’t agree to being someone Pete can scratch his itch with while he’s being ‘off-again’ with his boyfriend. Damn you, Pete. Why can’t you see what is right before your eyes? I am right here! Pick me.
The worst part is that he can’t switch off his emotions, even if he wants to, and so he bungees back and forth between righteous indignation at being played, and indescribable heartache.
How pathetic you are, Vegas. Truly pathetic.
After a while he heads home. He doesn’t have the heart to go back to the office. He has had enough shit to deal with this day. Fuck work. Let them file a complaint if they want, he doesn’t give a damn. He goes home and changes into some casual clothes, takes his phone and heads out again. The cab drops him off in the middle of downtown, right in front of an oddly pointed skyscraper, a sea of glass separated by lush, green terraces. Breathtaking as always. He hasn’t been here for the longest time, but nothing appears to have changed. Nothing ever changes here.
Vegas makes a call. “Hey cuz… What series are you currently watching? Mind if I join for a bit?”
There is startled silence on the other end of the line, followed by a delighted shout. “The more, the merrier! Perfect timing, dad’s away on a business trip. Hurry up, quick, quick! You there, call and inform security that Vegas is coming. Oh, we need more popcorn! And party hats! Glittery party hats! Hurry up, Vegas. Why aren’t you here yet?”
And Vegas grabs this safety line and holds on tight, so very tight. Save me, Tankhun. Don’t let me drown.
----------------------------------------
Vegas hates his family. He also loves them fiercely. It’s complicated. Thankfully, being around his oldest cousin is always easy and conflict free. For now, he can throw caution into the wind and relax. The Main family residence is like Fort Knox; he’s as safe as he can get, no insane killer will be sneaking in here, so that’s one thing less to worry about. His cousin takes one look at him—apparently he must look like hell, because Tankhun morphs into a mother hen; he sits Vegas on an enormous couch, with numerous pillows and soft blankets. There are assorted beverages, snacks, sweets and ice cream, his outrageously dressed cousin and a happy pile of bodyguards. Soon they’re all watching some hilarious Korean historical drama that makes everyone laugh all the time. It is balm on Vegas’ bleeding heart.
He doesn’t need to think, he doesn’t need to worry, he doesn’t need to feel. He just exists in the here and now. 16 episodes. They finish the show sometime in the middle of the night; only Tankhun and Vegas are still awake. Some bodyguards have wandered off to bed, others are sleeping on the floor, snoring softly. The end credits roll, and it gets silent in the large room. Vegas is tired but doesn’t know if he can sleep yet. There is a pink, glitter-covered party hat perched precariously on his head, and he’s absently munching on popcorn. His cousin sits next to him, for once quiet and relaxed. They stare in silence at the screen of the enormous tv until it turns dark.
“Are you happy, Vegas?” Tankhun suddenly asks him, out of the blue.
That question is easy enough to answer. “Right now? Not so very much, no,” Vegas replies in a small voice.
“You want to talk about it?” His cousin leans back into the soft pillows, keeping his voice low because he doesn’t want to wake anyone up.
“Not sure,” Vegas answers truthfully. “My mind is a mess. Hell, my whole life is a mess. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going insane.”
“Maybe you should try therapy,” Tankhun suggests softly, and Vegas almost chokes on the popcorn he’s eating. He tries to hold it in but can’t help starting to giggle hysterically. Oh, the irony. It really is too funny. Tankhun seems puzzled by this reaction. “I did therapy too after… well, you know. It was pretty okay, you should give it a thought, Vegas.”
Vegas tries to get himself back under control, he doesn’t want to offend his cousin after all. It’s my damn therapist who’s the problem, he wants to tell Tankhun. But he doesn’t dare to. No one in his family must know he’s seeing a therapist; word might get back to his father otherwise. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbles quietly as soon as the giggles have died down.
“We could dye your hair,” Tankhun offers next, and Vegas is hit by a wave of deep affection for his cousin.
His mother is dead and no one cares how Vegas feels about that. Macau cries all the time, Vegas has to console him, but who is drying his own tears? He’s feeling so lost and unhappy, the grief is tearing him apart. “We could dye your hair,” his oldest cousin suggests gently. “That will make you feel better, Vegas. Maybe you won’t need to cry that much afterwards.” And so they dye his hair a vibrant violet blue. Tankhun does all the work, and Vegas feels cared for again… just like his mother cared for him. It feels wonderful; it’s worth the harsh beating he gets from his father as soon as he discovers Vegas’ new hair colour. Inappropriate, his father shouts. What will the people at the funeral think? Vegas remembers the feeling of Tankhun’s fingers in his hair as he rinses out the colour and endures the beating in silence. There’s at least one person in his family who still sees and cares about him. His mom is dead, and everyone has forgotten about her children, everyone but Tankhun. He sees their grief, and he cares.
Vegas throat feels tight as those memories resurface. “Thank you,” he replies, and it comes from the bottom of his heart. “That’s a great idea but I don’t think the people at work would appreciate it. But thanks anyway.”
Tankhun just smiles and nods, he understands. His cousin is a lot smarter than people give him credit for.
They fall silent again, both lost in thoughts. It’s a comfortable silence that Vegas eventually breaks. “Tankhun?”
“Hmmm…?”
“If anything should ever happen to me, you will take care of Macau, right? Promise me?” This is another matter that weighs heavily on Vegas’ mind. Who will protect Macau when he’s gone? Not if, but when. The clock is ticking.
“Is there anything I should know about, Vegas?” His cousin scrutinises him closely. Apparently he has noticed that something is off with Vegas this evening. “Why this kind of request all of a sudden? You have a terminal illness you’ve neglected to tell us about?”
“No, don’t worry. I’ve just seen way too many shitty crime scenes and dead people lately.” Understatement of the century, but he won’t go into details. “It makes you ponder your own mortality. I worry what will happen with Macau if I am gone. You will keep an eye on him, right? Make sure my dad doesn’t sink his claws into him?”
“I promise,” Tankhun replies quietly, with utmost sincerity. “I’ll do my best, but I don’t have the same leverage against my uncle as you apparently do.”
Tankhun is smart indeed. He’s figured out that Macau lives a relatively domestic violence-free life only because Vegas has been taking certain precautions.
Vegas smiles in the darkness. “I’ve made arrangements to transfer my leverage to you in case of my death.”
“Oh.” His cousin seems surprised and perhaps even a bit proud. Vegas’ smile widens and they fall silent again.
Vegas’ thoughts drift. He exists in the here and now. He tries to block out everything else. Just this night; he has to get through this night, and then tomorrow everything will surely be more bearable. And surely he can even get used to the dull pain in his heart. It will simply take some time. At some point, his eyes close. Tankhun pulls a blanket over him as Vegas drifts off into an exhausted sleep, and then he watches his sleeping cousin with a deeply troubled expression on his face for the longest time.
----------------------------------------
Vegas has a late start for work the next day; in fact he doesn’t show up until noon. He sleeps in, then goes for a swim in the stunning outside swimming pool of the Main family mansion, treats himself to a sauna visit and then a massage, and finally has the most delicious pancakes he’s ever tasted for breakfast. All in Tankhun’s company and under the watchful eyes of the bodyguards, who aren’t quite comfortable with him hanging out this long with their boss. The prejudice against the Minor family lives on. Before he leaves, Vegas makes a point to wave at one of the many security cameras, because he knows Chan will see this when he returns, and it will make him frown and have one of his talks with Tankhun. The little joys in life.
Tem is already in the office. He smiles when he sees Vegas. “There you are. Did you have a relaxing morning? Would you like to hear some good news?”
Oh, good news is always welcome. Vegas nods eagerly. “What do you have?”
“I got the lily connection to the first case. We’ve been blind idiots. It was so obvious, I don’t understand how we didn’t see this earlier.”
Vegas is baffled. “Seriously? What is it? We’ve been going over that crime scene again and again, what did we miss?”
“It’s one of the books from the crime scene,” Tem informs him with a grin. “‘Lily’ is part of the book’s title. ‘The Red Lily’. Stupid, isn’t it?”
“Shit… yeah. So simple it gets overlooked. Thank you, good work. So what are we going to do next? Shall we tackle the database for other whacky murder cases?” Vegas is not looking forward to that one.
“We might as well do that.” Tem looks equally unenthusiastic. “Unless you want to go to the boss and ask for more manpower?”
Both look at each other and then laugh. Yeah, right. As if that will ever happen. Database search it is. They divide the fifteen year search window, Vegas gets the last eight years and Tem takes the previous seven years. Neither of them really expects to find anything anytime soon, because they’ve worked with this database before and it’s a pain in the ass. The search engine for it sucks, a lot of information has to be entered manually, and it needs to be entered over and over again as they work their way backwards in time, month by month. This will probably keep them busy for at least a week, if not longer.
They’ve been working a while when Tem hesitantly speaks up. “Vegas? I think Pete’s been looking for you. Have you talked to him today?”
Vegas stops typing mid-sentence and tenses up; until this moment he had all his issues with Pete packed away into a far away corner of his mind. He doesn’t feel ready to unpack them just yet.
“Is that so?” he replies, with maybe a bit more bitterness in his voice than necessary. “No, I haven’t talked to him, he can write an email if he has something to say. I’m busy.”
Grimly, he goes back to work, knowing that Tem is staring at him in astonishment. Whatever. Screw Pete. He doesn’t want to talk to him or even think about him. Tem wisely shuts up.
They manage to work in peace and quiet for a few more hours, then the door opens. Pete is a storm cloud incarnate; one can almost feel the static electricity in the air multiplying within seconds of his entry. Both men look up from their computer screens; Tem’s eyes widen with alarm and he casts nervous glances from Pete to Vegas and back.
As for Vegas, his heart might skip a beat when he looks at Pete—who is wearing a shirt so dark grey that it’s a perfect match to the stormy, ominous expression on his face—but there’s still that dull heartache as a constant reminder about what happened yesterday. He clenches his jaw in determination and goes back to work, refusing to look any further at Pete. Screw you, you two-timing bastard.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Pete staring at him. His gaze is so intense, it’s a miracle that the monitor partially shielding Vegas from Pete’s view isn’t instantly evaporated. Fucking great. He’s seen angry Pete before, and thought surely it couldn’t get worse than how he acted back on that roof, but apparently he was wrong—there is still room for further escalation. Just great. What the fuck is he even upset about this time? Shouldn’t it be Vegas, who has the sole right to be upset right now? Screw you, Pete!
When Pete finally speaks, his voice is so coldly furious that Tem instinctively scoots backwards with his office chair to try to increase the distance between them. “Where the hell have you been, Vegas?”
Vegas can feel himself grow very still, his fingers frozen in position above the keyboard. Danger. But then his initial bout of instant terror is washed away by a scalding wave of fresh anger. “Fuck off.” And he defiantly shows Pete the middle finger
“Switzerland!” Tem tries to remind both of them with a trembling voice, but the neutral ground has already turned into an active war zone. Too late.
“I ask you again, Vegas, where the hell have you been?” Pete’s tone of voice is truly terrifying. The anger is rolling off him in thick waves; it’s almost tangible.
“That’s none of your bloody business. But if you really want to know, I was at home. There, happy now? Then go and leave me the fuck alone so I can work, and take your pissy attitude along with you.” Vegas looks up just to glare at Pete and then gulps, because Pete’s dark eyes are sparkling with fury, he’s so angry his cheeks are flushing. Wow. Dangerous and at the same time so damn hot. Shit.
Apparently Vegas has said something that triggers Pete, because he jolts into motion, stomps across the room and then slams his fists full force on the desk in front of Vegas; so hard that the desk vibrates, the monitor shakes and the sound echoes through the office like a sharp crack. Tem jumps in his seat, and so does Vegas.
“No, you weren’t home! Don’t you fucking lie to me!”
“Are you talking back to me?! Are you?! Want me to teach you another lesson, boy?”… and father slams his palms onto the desk so hard, everything on it rattles… and that’s just a prelude, Vegas knows it, soon those hands will hit his face and if he’s lucky there won’t be any bruises… should have kept his mouth shut… should have stayed silent… too late now…
And fuck that memory! He’s an adult now, he won’t let anyone treat him like this. Vegas feels the all familiar heat of rage flooding his body like a wall of fire.
… one… with utmost care he saves the document he is working on.
… two… a deep breath.
… three… he raises his eyes to face Pete who is hovering by his desk like an angel of wrath.
… four…
“Don’t you dare use this tone of voice when talking to me,” he informs Pete, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger. The air between them positively crackles with the promise of violence.
“… Switzerland…” Tem interjects weakly again, but neither Pete nor Vegas pay any attention to him.
“And don’t you dare try lying to my face! Where the fuck did you spend the night, because you sure as hell weren’t at home!” Pete is trembling with fury; his nostrils are flaring. He looks as if he wants to ram those clenched fists straight into Vegas’ face.
“Oh, is that so? How would you know?” Vegas unfolds himself slowly from his chair, his own level of anger rising steadily, because what the fuck does Pete think he’s doing?! Who gives him the right to behave like this? You want to fight, Pete? Bring it on. And he reaches out and shoves Pete backwards, away from his desk.
Pete snarls with outrage and darts right back. “Because I checked, you asshole. I checked and you weren’t home! So where the hell have you been?! And with whom?!”
“Ah yes… Thank you for reminding me, I’d like that key back, please.” The angrier Vegas gets, the calmer he sounds. And he sounds eerily calm now. At the same time, he’s thrilled. You don’t like that, do you? Not knowing where I spent the night? No, you don’t like that at all. Serves you right!
“… Oh shit…” Tem moans anxiously from somewhere behind them.
“Vegas…” Pete is clenching his fists so tightly the fingers are turning white. “Answer my fucking question!”
“The hell I will! You’ve got no right to ask me this in the first place! I’m not your fucking possession! Go to hell and get out of my fucking life!” Vegas glares at Pete; his veins are on fire, there is just so much red hot anger coursing through him right now. He wants to hurt Pete, not just physically but emotionally too, if that’s even possible.
Pete briskly pushes the monitor to the side to get rid of the obstacle between him and Vegas, leans closer across the desk, and hisses, “Where the hell did you spend the night?! I told you I don’t share!”
He really does look rather upset, Vegas notes.
“Well, neither do I!” Vegas snarls right back at him. “I’m not your damn rebound toy! As far as I’m concerned this thing between us is over. And I can do whatever I want with whomever I want! Does that sound familiar? Yeah? Stings, doesn’t it?”
Pete stills, fixating Vegas, his eyes very black in his flushed, incensed face. “Is that supposed to mean you spent the night with someone else, Vegas?” His voice is dripping icicles, so very cold. And the look in his eyes… wow.
Well, he did, just not in the way Pete imagines. Time to push some buttons, to rub it in, to make it really hurt. Vegas is well aware that this is most likely a very bad idea, but he doesn’t give a damn. “Hell yeah,” Vegas drawls lazily. “I sure did. And it was great…” Take that, you asshole, and choke on it! You probably spent the night with your on-again, off-again boyfriend; who the fuck are you to judge me!
Cats can stand totally still, only to explode into instant movement, jumping an astonishing distance without needing to take a run-up. Once again, Pete channels his inner great cat; he moves so swiftly that it totally takes Vegas by surprise. One moment Pete is on the other side of the desk, glaring darkly at Vegas, the next he’s jump-sliding over it—how the hell did he do that?—sending the paperwork piled up on it flying all over the place, only to slam into Vegas, the force of the impact pushing both backwards until Vegas’ back hits the wall hard. It knocks the breath out of Vegas, but before he can even process this, Pete’s hands snap around his throat like steel manacles. He’s besides himself with outrage, he’s flat out livid, and he starts to squeeze. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
Vegas can’t breathe. Well, for now he still can, but it’s very difficult. He has to strain to suck the air into his lungs because those hands sure as hell hold on tight, and they keep tightening more and more. Pete is insanely strong, the thought skitters through his mind, who would have thought. This isn’t the first time he’s been choked, and the unpleasant sensation triggers a violent flashback.
His father is drunk. Or angry. Or both. It’s bad either way, because instead of the regular beating, today he is really trying to kill Vegas. The look on his face is scary, Vegas can feel the tears running down his face as he’s gasping for breath, clawing at the hand that’s constricting his airflow. “… Pa…” he croaks in panic, but then he can’t even speak because his own father is trying to choke the life out of him… and Vegas doesn’t understand why… why does he hate Vegas so much… don’t kill me… please don’t kill me… Pa… I can’t breathe… Pa…
Pa… Pete… Pa… Pete…
Faces blend into each other, back and forth. Vegas blindly grabs Pete’s wrists, but instead of fighting for his life he just holds on. They’re in this together. Pete wants to kill him? Fine. Let’s burn together.
“… just… do… it… bring… it… on…” he manages to wheeze, defiant to the last. And then he can’t press out any more words because he’s run out of air, the pressure around his throat increasing.
Underneath all that rage Pete looks hurt, Vegas recognises dimly, and feels a spike of extreme satisfaction. For the very first time, Pete seems genuinely upset, hurt even. Gotcha. How do you like the taste of your own medicine? Sucks, doesn’t it? Vegas would crow, but he seems to be dying, he can hear the blood rushing in his ears, the frantic beat of his heart like a sledgehammer in his head. His lungs are burning.
Even when the dark spots appear in his field of vision, he doesn’t avert his gaze. He has locked eyes with Pete; he wants him to be the last thing he sees. He hates him. He loves him. Let’s be soulmates in hell.
As for Pete, he seems completely unhinged. A glorious angel of death that seems determined to strangle him. ‘I’m going to kill you’, he said. And he’s true to his word. Are those tears in his eyes? So you care after all…
From the right side the barrel of a gun moves into Vegas’ ever diminishing field of vision, the muzzle coming to rest against Pete’s temple.
Click.
There goes the safety catch.
“Let go of Vegas or I will blow your brains all over this office.” Tem sounds incredibly stressed, his voice nearly cracking with panic.
Not good. Not good at all. Because Pete won’t stop. And Vegas is pretty damn sure that this isn’t an empty threat from Tem—his partner will pull that trigger.
“Trust me, nothing would give me more pleasure than to end you, you bastard. I couldn’t care less about the consequences either. As long as you’re dead, everything is fine with me,” Tem rambles on, the barrel of the gun wavering slightly.
Also not a good sign. Vegas wishes he could see the trigger finger but his field of vision gets smaller by the second, he’s going to lose consciousness soon. He should be panicking, but all he feels is an eerie calm that subdues all the frantic signals of his body screaming after oxygen.
Tem is really going to kill Pete.
Not going to happen. Vegas doesn’t know where he mobilises the energy from, maybe from sheer desperation because Pete must not die. He jerks forward, closer to Pete, and twists his body; he can hear Tem yelping and then his head is between Pete and the gun. And every time Tem moves the gun, Vegas moves as well, shielding Pete stubbornly. Pete, whose hands somehow remain firmly attached to his throat. Pete must not die.
“Vegas!” Tem sounds desperate and confused. “What the fuck are you doing? Move away!”
“… Vegas…” The way Pete exhales his name is almost magical. There is so much raw emotion in that single word; mostly disbelief and wonder, but so much more.
Not on my watch, Vegas thinks. I’ll take a bullet for you every day. And Vegas would love to do a deep dive into what else Pete is feeling at this exact moment, but his legs buckle beneath him and down he goes as his vision turns black.
The hands around his throat are suddenly gone, and his body is finally able to follow its fundamental instinct to inhale, even if Vegas himself is more or less out of it right now. He’s on the floor, gasping and shuddering and then coughing violently. Not quite unconscious, not quite awake. Caught in the in-between.
He’s aware that Tem and Pete are arguing fiercely, but is so busy forcing air into his lungs while coughing uncontrollably, that he can’t make out the words. His throat hurts. It hurts just as bad as he remembers. There will be bruising. Swallowing will hurt for at least a week. This is going to suck big time.
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Vegas wonders if he’s in shock, perhaps. He’s taking all of this way too calmly. He should be upset. He should be afraid. He should be angry. And instead he feels… immense satisfaction? It’s because of that look on Pete’s face as he was trying to kill Vegas. He has managed to force Pete right out of his comfort zone and into unknown emotional territory. Gotcha. It feels extremely satisfying. And doesn’t that just demonstrate how truly fucked up he himself is? What normal person takes pleasure in deliberately pushing the boundaries like this? Vegas is messed up pretty badly, just like Pete; they compliment each other nicely, each of them is a big, glaring red flag. Damn, but his throat hurts. He wants some water.
The worst of the coughing seems to be over. As long as he tries to breathe in slowly he hopes to avoid triggering another round of coughs. Pete and Tem are still arguing—blah blah blah—he envisions them as comic figures with little speech bubbles full of *#!*#?!?!#. Vegas tentatively opens his eyes and only sees their legs. Maybe he should bite them, like a dog. Damn. Where do these thoughts even come from? His mind is a complete mess, runaway skittering thoughts everywhere. He wants water. Why is no one paying attention to him, he almost died, hello? The victim is right here, on the floor in front of them. Assholes both of them.
He opens his mouth to voice his displeasure, but out comes only a garbled “…chhhrrff…” Oops. And oww… speaking hurts. Fine. Seems he has to do everything himself. He knows there is a water bottle in his desk drawer. Surprisingly enough, sitting up is way easier than he thought. And him moving is finally enough to draw their attention to him. The voices fall silent, but only for a moment.
“Vegas! How are you feeling? Are you all right?” Tem anxiously bends down and tries to assist him in getting up. Vegas smacks his hands away. He understands why Tem did it, but he can’t get the picture of the gun muzzle pressed against Pete’s temple out of his mind, and he’s holding a grudge. You tried to kill my man, fuck off.
To be fair, Pete gets the same treatment when it’s his turn to try and help him up. No, he hasn’t forgiven Pete for trying to choke him either.
Apart from a looming headache, a bit of dizziness and the mother of all sore throats, Vegas seems to be doing okay. With grim determination he manages to get back to his feet, holding on to his desk just in case, and gets the water bottle. The first mouthful is sheer bliss. Water has never before tasted this good. And as expected, swallowing hurts like a bitch. Making a point of ignoring both men, Vegas takes his time sipping the water. He’s pondering his next move. Actually, there is not much to think about, he knows what needs to be done next.
When he finally feels sufficiently hydrated again, he casts a glance at the rest of his dysfunctional team. No bloody noses, so they didn’t get into a scuffle, which is an improvement. No drawn guns either, that’s also good. He mainly focuses on Tem for now, he’s still feeling a bit too raw to deal with Pete.
“Tem…” Vegas cringes because his voice sounds terribly hoarse even to his own ears. “I would like to talk to Pete in private.” He pauses to cough and then drink some more water.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him!” Tem argues fiercely. “He just tried to strangle you, Vegas! That wasn’t a damn game, he really tried to kill you!”
“Since I’m the victim, I’m well aware of it. Now please leave us alone. Pete will no longer try to kill me, isn’t that right, Pete?” He gives the man in question a quick glance and can barely suppress a shudder of dread mixed with excitement at the sight of him, because Pete is still angry. No, Vegas isn’t ready yet to deal with him at all.
Pete rolls his shoulders and shrugs. He looks like something wild that has been temporarily put on a leash but can break free at any moment. Okay, Vegas understands why Tem is reluctant to leave; Pete still very much has his ‘predator on the hunt’ vibe.
“Just leave, Tem. I’d rather have that talk here than having to walk through the whole damn police station and then up to Pete’s office on the top floor in my condition. But if you refuse to cooperate, I will do just that.” Vegas pauses to drink some water again. “How does my throat look, is it very obvious? Do I need to cover it up?”
Poor Tem looks like hell; well, he’s been through emotional hell. Vegas is really trying to see his side of this whole mess, but pulling a gun on Pete—fuck—it leaves a very bitter taste in his mouth. And it doesn’t seem as if Tem is willing to follow his wish and leave either.
“You’ll probably need to cover it up with something,” Tem decides, after yet another troubled look at Vegas. “It doesn’t look too good.”
“He fucking deserved it,” Pete mutters angrily from the side, and starts pacing like a caged tiger. Yes, this is far from over. They really need to have their long overdue talk.
Vegas glares sharply at him and then holds up his hand to stop an angry Tem from engaging Pete again. “Don’t.” He sighs and takes another sip of water. “You’re really going to make me walk through the building, aren’t you? Well, fuck you, Tem.” Vegas does not have anything to cover his throat up with, it is Thailand in summertime, there are no scarves or anything like that. He’ll just have to ignore the curious looks. Grimly, he heads for the door.
“Bloody hell, fine… stop acting like a martyr, Vegas. Sit down, rest, I will leave.” Exasperated and worried, Tem glares at Vegas for making him do this. He then turns towards Pete and damn, Vegas doesn’t like the look of pure hatred on Tem’s face. It spells trouble for the future. “Don’t even think about hurting Vegas again. I wasn’t kidding, I will kill you without a second thought.”
Pete, who is still pacing, gives Tem a dark look. You can try, that look says, just bring it on. Yup, goodbye Switzerland. Any pretence of neutrality has been thoroughly blown out of the window. It seems this office will from now on be a permanent war zone. Fuck.
“Thank you, Tem. I know this isn’t easy for you, and you don’t understand why I’m behaving this way, so thank you for listening to my wishes anyway.” Vegas absently rubs the aching skin of his neck and gives Tem a faint smile. “It’ll be all right, don’t worry.” And as Tem is about to open the door and leave, he adds quietly. “Please lock the door behind you. I don’t want anyone to come in here to interrupt.”
Tem doesn’t like this at all; he exits and closes the door with a bit more force than necessary. And then locks it. There, done.
Now for part two, and this talk is going to suck, Vegas is well aware of it. With a sigh, he slowly walks back towards his desk, looks at all the scattered papers on the ground and sighs again. Let’s procrastinate a bit longer, he decides, and starts picking up things, very pointedly ignoring the still pacing Pete. He doesn’t need to look at him to be aware of his presence; Pete is still a raging storm cloud making the air around him crackle with violence barely held in check.
“Are you in pain?” Pete inquires after a while.
“Yes,” Vegas answers truthfully while sorting the papers he just picked up into the right piles. He’s still avoiding eye contact.
“Good,” Pete remarks with a viciousness that would catch most people who don’t really know him by surprise. He looks so cheerful, innocent and nice most of the time, but Vegas has gotten a glimpse behind that mask, and what he’s seen is scary and at the same time irresistibly exciting.
“I didn’t lie, you know,” he informs him quietly. “I really did go home. My real home; I went back to my family.” He pauses for a moment of contemplation and then admits freely, “I probably could have phrased it differently to make that clear to you but quite frankly, I didn’t want to. I wanted you to draw all the wrong conclusions.”
“I see,” Pete says quietly. “So you spending the night with someone else…?”
“Also true but not in the way you think. I slept on the couch. With my oldest cousin. And a bunch of bodyguards. After spending the night watching all episodes of a K-drama.”
There, the papers are sorted again; now Vegas has nothing else to keep him busy. He leans against his desk and finally faces Pete.
“You are a fucking idiot,” Pete informs him with heat. It’s obvious that he’s trying to slip behind one of his stoic masks again, but apparently he’s having problems controlling his temper today. “I really would have killed you.”
“I know. But I was angry and wanted to see how far I could push you. I guess I got my answer now. Also, I’m going to die anyway, the clock is ticking. I figured it might as well be you sending me off. I’d rather die at your hands than suffer through a violent prolonged death at the hands of a deranged killer. I’m pretty messed up, right?” Vegas looks at Pete and sighs, his heart aches because he’s just so damn in love with this madman. “Let’s call it quits, Pete,” he proposes quietly.
Pete stops pacing and gives Vegas a hard stare. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know exactly what it means. I’m getting off this train. No more games for me. Let’s go our separate ways from now on.” Damn, this hurts badly. Vegas is aching all over saying this, but he really sees no other way.
“Are you dumping me?” Pete seems almost shocked, as if it never even occurred to him that this consequence of his actions might be on the horizon.
“In order to dump you, don’t I need to have had you in the first place, Pete? But I never really had you, did I?” Vegas points out the obvious. “I was just a participant in your little mind games, nothing else. Something to amuse yourself with, a rebound toy.”
Pete just stares at Vegas, a myriad of emotions flickering through his eyes, and clenches his hands into fists. “Stop it, Vegas, I don’t like the sound of this.” Distress is seeping into his voice.
“I don’t like being your plaything. And I’m definitely not your possession. You told me loud and clear that we’re not exclusive, that we are nothing. Now deal with it.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Pete is getting frustrated. “I wasn’t prepared for you to get all clingy, so I got defensive!”
“Bullshit!” Vegas is just as frustrated as Pete. “I made a joke because I was feeling jealous and didn’t know how else to deal with it, and you brutally shut me out—again. You do that all the time; you reel me in and then you keep me hanging, and you expect me to be okay with it. Well, I’m not!”
“Damn it, Vegas. Try seeing this from my point of view for a change? I could lose my licence and my job because of you, you really expect me to forget about that? Of course I’m trying to keep you at a distance, but that does not make me want you any less.”
“Oh, don’t try using that argument—when have you ever been a real therapist to me? How many sessions did we have before you talked your way into my murder investigation because that was more interesting than my therapy? I haven’t had any real therapy from you at all!” Vegas points his finger accusingly at Pete who seems slightly stunned. “You were supposed to help me with my anger issues, but you are just as fucked up as I am. Hell, I think my anger issues are nothing compared to yours. You were supposed to help me…” His voice trails off; he doesn’t know how to make Pete understand how let down he feels.
“I tried! I am still trying! I had my life under control until I met you, and now everything is completely chaotic! I tried to keep my professional distance in order for me to be able to be a real therapist to you, but you just wouldn’t let me. You’re in my head, all the time! You think I like feeling like this?” Pete starts pacing again. He seems incredibly tense. “I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking about you all the time. I don’t like how angry you make me. I don’t like not being in control of myself. I hate it. My life is out of control since I met you.”
“Great. You’ll no longer have to worry about that because it is over. I’ll find myself another therapist, one that will actually help me. You finish your report about the serial killer and then go back to whatever you did before we met. I live my life, you live your life. If you are lonely, go and reconcile with your Tawan. End of story.” Vegas runs his fingers through his hair because he’s feeling quite upset. This conversation is stressing him out big time.
“I disagree. I don’t want this! I don’t want you walking out on me! And what the fuck has Tawan got to do with all of this? What the hell did he say to you in that parking garage?” Pete sounds as stressed as Vegas feels.
“He said he’s your on-again, off-again boyfriend.” Just repeating those words aloud hurts. And Vegas is tired of hurting because of Pete, this isn’t healthy.
Pete curses under his breath and comes to a stop in front of Vegas. “Is that the real reason you want to break things off?”
“Seriously?” Vegas makes the mistake of looking Pete in the eyes and almost loses himself in them. Damn. “What kind of an idiotic question is this, Pete? I think you having a boyfriend is a damn good reason not to get involved with you.”
“So you’re jealous.” This knowledge seems to please Pete.
Vegas is irked. “I don’t get involved with people who are in a relationship. That might be your kink but I don’t swing that way. If you want to have an affair on the side, go and find someone else,” he growls angrily.
“Vegas…” Pete looks him in the eyes and then his lips curve into that damn dimpled smile that knocks the breath out of Vegas every single time he’s subjected to it. He feels suddenly breathless.
“Tawan is not my boyfriend.”
“Stop it, Pete…” Vegas says helplessly. He doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to hear it, because how is he supposed to extract himself from this mess between them, if Pete rekindles the prospect of something deeper?
“I’m not in a relationship with Tawan. I’m very much single, and I’m very much attracted to you, Vegas,” Pete continues earnestly, waltzing right past Vegas’ objections.
Vegas swallows hard and it hurts. This is exactly what he wants to hear, who is he kidding? At the same time he also wants to turn off the emotions welling up inside of him upon hearing this. Damn, he doesn’t want to be in love with Pete anymore. “Good for you,” he mumbles, and forces himself to look elsewhere. Anywhere other than Pete’s expressive, hopeful face is fine, because Pete has shrugged off the anger and now he is once again the delightful, enthusiastic psychologist that Vegas fell for in the first place. “I’m still calling it quits.”
“Nonsense.” Pete won’t have it. “You’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”
“You trying to kill me kind of put a damper on my attraction to you,” Vegas tries to argue, but that simply elicits a soft chuckle from Pete.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Pete takes another step closer and since Vegas is currently leaning against his desk he can’t evade him by backing away. Not good. Vegas knows what will happen when they touch, because he doesn’t have control over his damn body as far as Pete is concerned.
“Want me to tell you an uncomfortable truth about yourself, Vegas? You very much like my dark side.”
Unfortunately Pete is right. Vegas does like it when Pete gets unhinged and loses control. It’s so damn exciting. “Perhaps,” he admits. “That doesn’t make it a healthy attraction though. You’re a glaring red flag and so am I. We just keep hurting each other. We are not compatible.”
“Would you like me to show you just how compatible we are?” Pete inches even closer and Vegas’ breath catches when he starts to lean in.
“Stop it, Pete,” he demands with desperation. “Look at my throat, you just tried to strangle me. You’re not good for me, and I’m not good for you; this between us is never going to work and I’m so damn tired of you giving me mixed signals. I don’t want this anymore; it’s exhausting.”
“I’ll make it work, trust me. And to be fair, I wouldn’t have acted the way I did if you hadn’t deliberately pushed my buttons, can we at least agree on that? I could say I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier on, but you and I know that I am not, and besides, you got a kick out of it, I could see it in your eyes.” Pete shrugs nonchalantly and when Vegas casts him a quick irritated glance he answers it with a cheeky grin. “I can kiss it better though…”
“No thanks.” His instinct warns Vegas that it is now or never, time to leave while he still can. “Just leave me alone. We are over.” But before he can evade it, Pete already presses his mouth on the right side of his neck, exactly where everything is feeling sore and achy, and where the skin is overly sensitive right now. Vegas flinches visibly; it hurts, yes, but at the same time it’s electrifying. He feels the all-familiar rush, it feels so damn good. Shit. “Don’t. I’m not going to change my mind…” And then he has to bite his lip in order to hold back in the moan that almost escapes his mouth when Pete starts trailing kisses from one side of his throat to the other. Holy shit.
Vegas knows he should hate this. He knows he should protest, he should push Pete away, he should get out of this office. He knows. And against better knowledge he stays in place and doesn’t move. Pete is his drug and he wants his fix. That doesn’t mean he will make it easy for him though. If Pete thinks a bit of kissing will make everything all right again, he’s in for a surprise.
Pete is very careful with his neck, the kisses are soft and gentle and incredibly nice and even though he’s determined not to show any reaction Vegas can’t suppress the occasional shiver. “You like this, Vegas?” Pete murmurs against his skin.
Vegas snorts with irritation and refuses to answer. Besides, he’s busy keeping himself in check, his hands are holding on to the edge of the desk just to keep himself from grabbing Pete. And when Pete tries for a real kiss he turns his head away to the side. “Nice try, but this isn’t going to work.” Vegas blames his hoarse voice on his damaged throat because that’s easier than to admit how much Pete is affecting him.
“You are so damn stubborn.” Pete chuckles softly, settling for brushing his thumb over Vegas’ lips. “Why bother resisting, just admit that there is no way either of us can walk away from this.”
“Just watch me…” Vegas replies grimly. Gently but firmly he pushes Pete away to get some distance between them. “Attraction isn’t everything. I want something that you very obviously can’t give me.” Vegas goes to sit behind his desk, putting one more obstacle between him and a very determined-looking Pete. Not that he ever expected Pete to take a ‘No’ for a ‘No’ in the first place. He probably senses that it isn’t a very determined ‘No’ from Vegas’ side, more’s the pity.
“You might be surprised just how much I’m willing to give you to make this work,” Pete responds and graces Vegas with another dimpled smile. “I’m definitely surprised at myself. Take a chance on me, Vegas. We can make this work.”
Oh, damn. Pete is saying all the right things, and Vegas wavers. This is such a bad idea. Vegas should be running screaming in the opposite direction right now to get the hell away from Pete, and yet here he is, seated at his desk, they’re staring at each other and Vegas wants him so damn much it is inconceivable. He’s surprised at himself as well. Pete seems to sense how confused about his own feelings Vegas is. He walks slowly around the desk, giving him ample opportunity to move away if he wants to, but of course Vegas stays in place. He doesn’t have the energy to draw out the inevitable. “We can make this work,” Pete insists and smiles earnestly at him. “Let me show you.”
“I don’t trust you with my sanity, you’re going to drive me insane.” Vegas sighs because he knows the fight is already lost. “I hear you and I want to believe you, I really do. But I don’t really see either of us getting better at not hurting the other one. Can we please be realistic and honest about this, Pete?”
Distance, they need some distance between them. Vegas rolls his office chair backwards until it hits the wall, and leans his head against it as he looks up at Pete. “Why me? What are you thinking? What do you even see in me? How do you expect me to be with you if you keep your thoughts completely locked up and out of my reach?”
Strangely enough this just makes Pete smile even more. “You really have no idea how attractive you are, Vegas. When I walked into the office that first day and got my first look at you, it felt like a gut punch. I had seen your photo in your file, but the reality was so much more than what I expected and I really wasn’t ready to be instantly attracted to you. You are so damn oblivious, you don’t even notice how everyone ogles you. It’s rather charming but also very frustrating.”
It just takes him a few steps and then Pete is standing once again before Vegas’ chair, looking down at him. He has that intense expression on his face again. The one that Vegas knows so well, and that does weird things to his heart. “You are so damn fascinating, Vegas. You’re rude, you’re cold, you’re distant, you have a short fuse, you can be exceptionally violent. You’re constantly pushing everyone away who comes too close to you. You also have a nice sense of humour, and care enough about other people to go and rescue the drunken therapist that you hate from the clutches of a horny nightclub crowd. You care about some of your family even if you refuse to admit it, so you cut them out of your life. You’re so worried about other people getting physically hurt because of you, that you have cut yourself off from any potential relationship and only allow yourself to have the bare minimum of friends. You’re a man full of contradictions.”
Vegas swallows hard as he listens to this. Swallowing hurts, but that’s nothing compared to the ache in his heart. Damn Pete for reading him so thoroughly.
“I see you, Vegas,” Pete continues quietly, looking him in the eyes. “I see all of you. The good and the bad. And I like what I see. You don’t have to change for me. I don’t see a mess when I look at you, you are perfect just the way you are right now. I have never met anyone who is such a perfect match for me. You have no idea how glad I am that I met you. Does that answer your question?”
Vegas closes his eyes, because he can feel the tears welling up in them. It’s so overwhelming hearing all this. It makes his emotions run wild; he is feeling so damn much and all at the same time.
“What do you see in me, Vegas?” he can hear Pete asking softly.
He doesn’t even have to think about the answer, it comes naturally. Vegas opens his eyes, and gives Pete a watery smile. “You’re my missing puzzle piece. Now, I am finally complete.”
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.” Pete swallows hard as well, he seems overcome with emotions; in fact he even looks a bit shocked about his own emotional response to these words. And then he simply straddles Vegas and places his hands on his shoulders. “I can make this work, Vegas. I promise you, I can make us work.”
This is taking Vegas by surprise. Pete looks so damn earnest, and he wants to believe his words so badly, but deep down he knows this is all just an illusion, it will not work out. Then again, he will most likely die soon anyway, why not enjoy this while it lasts? Vegas meets Pete’s eyes, rests his hands on his hips and smiles faintly. “Fine. We can try.” As a reward Pete gives him another wide dazzling smile and Vegas allows himself to lose himself in that smile for a while.
Pete leans in, his breath feathering across Vegas’ face. “Thank you. I can make this work,” he murmurs once again, as if he needs to convince himself of this more than he needs to convince Vegas, and then he plants a quick kiss on the tip of Vegas’ nose. It tickles and makes Vegas smile reluctantly. Pete gives him another peck straight on the lips, but the touch is so fleeting that the resulting spark isn’t enough to turn into another raging fire of uncontrollable desire. Vegas thinks he could get used to this, the weight of Pete on him, the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, the closeness. All of this very effectively erases any bad feelings and memories between them—for the moment at least. In the here and now, they’re fine. And they will make this work.
They exchange a silent, affectionate look, basking in the moment. Then Pete begins kissing Vegas; he starts from the corner of his mouth, making his way downwards, a trail of light kisses along the throat until he reaches the edge of Vegas’ uniform shirt. “Let me show you just how compatible we are,” Pete whispers against his skin.
“Right here, right now?” Vegas is caught between delight and alarm. “We’re at work.”
“That didn’t stop you in the elevator,” Pete points out, draws back and gives Vegas a cheeky grin while deftly undoing the first button. “Where is your sense of adventure, Detective Theerapanyakul? How about a walk on the wild side?”
Vegas shivers because damn, he’s ready to walk the wild side, hell yeah. “Someone could walk in,” he points out nevertheless.
“Tem locked the door when he left.” Pete undoes the second button.
“Tem might come back and walk in,” Vegas protests weakly.
“Exciting, isn’t it?” is Pete’s only comment regarding the matter, and that is that. He undoes another button.
Vegas feels the thrill of discovery and just hopes Tem has the good grace to stay far away from the office. “Bring it on then,” he whispers and leans back to see Pete will do next.
Pete gives him another mischievous grin and then starts with the kisses again; from the collarbone downwards, following in the path of him slowly undoing all the buttons of Vegas’ uniform shirt.
Vegas grins as well, he likes this playful side of Pete very much. Besides, he really does deserve this reward for all he has been put through the last 24 hours. His breath hitches repeatedly as Pete makes his way down, it just feels so damn good.
Once all the buttons are undone, Pete folds the fabric to the side and then simply stares reverently at Vegas’ bare chest, taking it all in. “Damn Vegas… You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this…” And without further ado, he leans in, his hot breath brushing Vegas’ skin, making it tingle, before his mouth fastens around his nipple.
Vegas nearly jolts right off the chair, almost dislodging Pete from his lap. He curses under his breath, and tightens his grip on Pete’s hips, holding him in place. Holy shit. His reaction draws a chuckle from Pete. “I knew you’d like that.” And then that devil swirls his tongue around the nipple and Vegas thinks he surely must have gone to heaven. He stifles a groan, shudders and doesn’t even get a break to adjust to the sensation before Pete’s tongue draws a straight line right across to the other nipple and repeats the swirl there. And then he just goes back and forth, swirl to swirl. Holy shit.
How did they get here again? Weren’t they just fighting a short while ago? Not to mention that Pete tried to kill him earlier on? Never mind all that now, nothing matters except Pete and his hot mouth. Vegas arches his back, pushing himself against that mouth and shuddering silently with pleasure. He wants to groan, but bites his lip to stay quiet while Pete is doing his utmost to drive him insane with desire.
When Pete starts sucking on the nipples, Vegas thinks he’s going to come in his pants; the pleasure hits him like a lightning bolt. His fingers are digging hard into Pete’s hips; he’s pulling him as close as possible and both of them hiss with pleasure as they start grinding against each other.
Then Vegas’ phone rings, they both jump with alarm and then laugh breathlessly. Vegas wants to ignore it, but Pete reaches back and fishes the phone from the desk, handing it to Vegas before he goes back to lavishing attention on Vegas’ nipples.
“What is it?” Vegas barks into the phone. And the next moment he starts to flush, because it feels as if he’s been caught with the hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, I’m still alive and everything is all right, Tem.”
Pete, the devil, takes that moment to use his teeth on the extremely sensitive flesh, giving it a light bite and Vegas mouth falls open in a silent shout. He can barely hear what Tem is saying because Pete starts to pinch the other nipple at the same time, making the pleasure almost unbearable.
“Whatever,” Vegas interrupts Tem hoarsely. “I am in the middle of my conversation with Pete, I know you’re worried, but stop interrupting. We’ll talk later.” And then he hangs up, just drops the phone and inhales a very shaky breath. “Good Lord, do that again.”
Pete grins and does just that.
This is spiralling out of control quickly. Vegas can hear his colleagues from outside; they’re just a door away from being discovered and it’s thrilling as hell. He ponders if he should ask Pete for a handjob, because he’s so damn aroused he’s ready to explode when Pete comes up for air, all flushed himself.
“Please tell me you were planning on ravishing me at some point and therefore have a condom and lube with you?” he asks Vegas urgently.
Pete never ceases to surprise him. Vegas blinks. “Seriously? You want to do it here? Right now?”
“Yes, right here and now.” Pete’s hands slide down Vegas’ chest to the edge of his pants. “Wild side, remember? Let me ride you.”
And with a wicked smile he gropes him. Vegas jerks at the touch; the sensation of Pete’s hand rubbing him through the rough fabric of his pants is out of this world.
He casts a quick glance at the door and then throws all caution to the wind. “In my bag.”
They share a breathless grin, then Vegas scoots the office chair closer to the desk to be able to get to the drawers while Pete feverishly starts to undo his belt and buttons.
When they’re not trying to hurt each other, they really are an exceptionally crazy match, Vegas thinks in a daze, while struggling to get the condom and the lube and at the same time assisting Pete in pulling down his pants.
Pete shrugs off his own pants and underwear as well, he looks deliciously wicked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. They’re both hard; Vegas wants Pete now.
“Stop grinning.” He mock-glares at Pete. “I swear you are such a bad influence on me. I can’t believe you talked me into having sex at work.”
“I don’t see you putting up a lot of objections,” Pete points out, winks and starts lubing himself. “Now put on the damn condom already before someone decides to interrupt again.”
“So bossy…” Vegas rolls his eyes, but secretly he’s delighted, and enjoying this very much. And he enjoys it even more when Pete straddles him once again, and they’re skin against skin this time.
Damn, this feels good. “Slow down,” Vegas warns Pete, as he lowers himself on Vegas’ cock; it’s obvious from the expression on his face that it hurts, he isn’t quite ready yet. “Slow down, Pete,” he quickly grabs Pete’s waist and pulls him closer. Their chests are pressed so tightly together, Vegas can feel Pete’s throbbing heart through his shirt. “Slow down and relax,” he murmurs against his ear and wraps his arms around him in a hug.
“Well, I don’t want to slow down. I’m horny and I want to fuck you,” Pete growls with frustration and desperately grinds himself against Vegas’ cock.
“If you keep this up, I will come, and we’ll never get to any actual fucking,” Vegas points out with a chuckle. It’s true, he is so damn aroused by the whole situation that the friction against Pete is on the brink of being too much. “Kiss me,” he whispers breathlessly, and brings Pete’s face up to kiss him passionately.
The all-familiar madness ensues. At some point Vegas breaks the kiss; he’s panting so badly, he needs to breathe. But Pete won’t let him, he digs his fingers in Vegas’ hair and pushes his head back towards his, hard, because he doesn’t want to stop. Their lips meet once more, they’re back the way they were before, exploring each other’s mouth. And sometime amidst all this, lust overpowers pain and Pete slides into place and begins to move.
Vegas wants to shout, but they need to keep quiet. Which is kind of a turn on as well, not that he needs to be turned on any more than he already is, because Pete riding him is sheer ecstasy, not to mention the blissful expression on his face—it is all perfect and Vegas pulls him in for another long and hot kiss.
Pete is slowly grinding himself back and forth, Vegas’ cock lodged deep inside him. Then Vegas phone starts ringing again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Panting heavily, Vegas somehow manages to reach down and pick up the phone he dropped earlier on without dislodging Pete, who is clinging to him like a monkey. “Not now, Tem!” he more of less yells into the phone. “I’m having a moment here, leave me alone!” And then he disconnects the call with a growl.
“A moment, huh?” Pete laughs against his throat and licks the skin there. “I sure hope this will last a bit longer than a mere moment.”
As a reply, Vegas flexes his hips, and Pete’s whole body tenses and shudders; he holds one hand over his mouth to try to reduce the volume of his gasping. Vegas has to laugh softly. Then he sends the office chair they’re sitting on swirling like a wild merry-go-round. Pete doesn’t seem to know if he should laugh or moan, so he does both. They cling to each other until the chair bumps into the wall and comes to a stop; both of them gasp, and then Pete arches his back and moves his hips, slowly rising up and then lowering himself. Now it’s Vegas’ turn to hold back a moan.
At least they’re not interrupted again after this. This isn’t just sex, this is making love, Vegas realises at some point. The intense eye contact between them, the slow long kisses, the connection between them at this moment is simply so profound that Vegas can’t wrap his mind around it. As if he could ever walk away from this; no, Vegas knows they’re in it together, until the bitter end.
Pete is doing some drive-him-crazy circular motions with his hips and Vegas feels he can’t last much bit longer. Thankfully Pete picks this moment to throw his head back in silent ecstasy and pant through his orgasm. Watching Pete in the throes of pleasure is intoxicating. He’s a glorious sight to behold, Vegas thinks. His dark eyes look at Vegas, wild and beautiful, and Vegas feels his heart overflow with love for this impossible, irritating, wonderful man.
“Pete…” His voice is trembling as badly as his body. He grits his teeth in an effort not to make any sound, and then he comes so hard that his eyes roll back in his head. It feels as if every bone is his body has liquified, he sinks against Pete and just shudders uncontrollably for a minute—even the slightest movement is too much and sets off another spasm of pleasure.
They hold each other for what feels like the longest time.
“We need to do this more often,” Pete eventually whispers. He sounds exhausted, but very pleased. He pulls back a bit to be able to make eye contact with Vegas and gives him a wide, dimpled smile that makes butterflies erupt in Vegas’ stomach. When Pete leans in, the expression on his face is precious beyond description. One hand cups Vegas’ cheek and the other rests on his waist, and then their lips meet once more in a soft kiss.
“Congratulations, Vegas.” Pete’s voice is heavy with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “You got yourself a boyfriend, let’s go steady.”