“I call it purring, not growling,” said Alice.

“You still owe me an explanation.”

It’s getting late, the sun has set, and he and Pete are sitting in a parked car in front of Vegas’ apartment building. Vegas is still feeling slightly overwhelmed by all that’s happened today. Pete’s unwillingness to leave his side is much appreciated, though. It seems Pete was very serious about what he said earlier on, and has invited himself for a sleepover. Which is totally fine with Vegas; he doesn’t want to be separated from Pete right now either.

“An explanation about what?” Pete stretches lazily, too sleepy—and maybe sore—to move.

Best to get this over with before it eats him alive. “A explanation about Tawan,” he demands quietly.

“I already told you he’s not my boyfriend, what else do you want to know?” Reaching out, Pete takes Vegas hand and laces their fingers. “It’s okay, just ask.”

“How long have you known him and why does he seem to think you two are in a relationship?”

“I have know Tawan for a while—about a year perhaps? He was one of my very first patients.” Pete seems very sincere as he divulges this information. “I’m truly sorry that he upset you, he’s a very troubled person. Harmless, but well… troubled. He’s a bit delusional at times, it seems that he’s stopped taking his medicine once again. Tawan has these episodes now and then, I will contact his current therapist to hopefully sort this out quickly.”

Vegas casts Pete a quick sideways look and then stares straight ahead at the other parked cars again. “He seems very attached to you. Did you play your little games with him, too?” He doesn’t want to ask this; he doesn’t want to hear the answer to it either. But he asks anyway, because he wants to put the whole Tawan business behind them today.

Pete hesitates for a second before answering. “I might have given him the wrong impression about my interest in him at some point.”

Vegas snorts softly. “So you flirted with him.”

He doesn’t like the thought of Pete flirting with Tawan, he really doesn’t like it, but that was before Pete met Vegas, so he really has no right to get upset about it. “Was that all?”

Pete fleetingly tightens his hold on Vegas’ hand. “You really want an honest answer to this, Vegas?” He has turned his head to look out the window as if he doesn’t want to face Vegas.

“Not really, no. But answer me anyway,” Vegas sighs. He already knows the answer.

“No, that wasn’t all,” Pete admits quietly.

Vegas clenches his jaw as he feels jealousy bubbling up inside of him. The thought of Pete making out with this Tawan guy is nauseating. “How many times?” He asks nevertheless, his voice tight with irritation.

“Just once.” Pete sighs and starts rubbing his thumb against Vegas’ palm. “It was a one time thing, never meant to turn into something lasting. Unfortunately Tawan didn’t get the memo. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, it was an idiotic mistake to make.”

“Did this happen a lot? You having a fling with your patients?” Because Vegas does not want to be one of many, that would really sting too much.

“Stop making me sound like a slut, Vegas. That was the only time I fucked a patient… well, before I met you that is.”

Vegas cringes and, for a moment, to urge to end everything, call it quits and run as far as possible becomes nearly overwhelming.

“I don’t like it,” he admits unhappily. “I know I have no right, but I feel so damn jealous. I instantly disliked the guy and the thought of you and him being together at some point … I don’t like how that makes me feel.” He turns his head and gives Pete a helpless glance.

“I’m not happy about all of your one-night-stands either, Vegas. And I am not proud of myself for sleeping with Tawan. But it was just that, scratching an itch. Plain sex, no feelings involved. It was vastly different compared to what’s going on between the two of us now. You know that, right?” Pete searches his face, looking for confirmation. “I’ve never asked anyone else to go steady, Vegas. Not once.”

“I know.” Vegas sighs. “Sorry. I’ll try to shelf the jealousy.” Then something else occurs to him. “You said he was a former patient. Why did he show up at the police station then?”

“He has a hard time accepting that I’m no longer his therapist. I promise I will see to it that he won’t bother me again. I think this time I told him in no uncertain terms that there is not, and will never be, any relationship between him and me.”

“I really hope he got the message this time. If he smirks into my face one more time I will not be held accountable for what I will do.” And Vegas means it. He’s feeling very possessive when it comes to Pete, and he will not tolerate any interference.

“Did I ever tell you how hot you are when you threaten bodily harm, Vegas? If not, now you know.” Pete grins and squeezes his hand. “Any more questions, or can we go inside now to make dinner? I’m starting to get hungry.”

“You’re probably the only one who thinks my violent tendencies are sexy.” Vegas slowly shakes his head in disbelief. “Sure, let’s get going. If I have any more questions, I’ll let you know.”

They head inside and have a surprisingly harmonious evening. Vegas shoves the whole Tawan issue to the back of his mind; he’s satisfied with Pete’s explanations and, as far as he’s concerned, the matter is over and done with. Time to concentrate on his own life … and his new boyfriend.

----------------------------------------

The days go by, and Vegas still thinks he’s dreaming. He’s been thoroughly steamrolled by the force of nature that is Pete. His life has been completely upended in just a matter of… how long have they known each other now? It’s just bewildering.

It seems he really is in a relationship now.

Vegas still can’t wrap his mind around this. It’s crazy. How did this happen? Did he really agree to this? Of course he did, because Pete has driven him stark raving insane. The exact same Pete who is currently sitting on Vegas’ couch, in Vegas’ apartment, reading a book called ‘Feeling Good Together: The Secret to Making Troubled Relationships Work’—it’s unreal.

Vegas, too, is lying on the couch, his head resting comfortably in Pete’s lap. “Tell me again why you’re reading this particular book?”

Pete lowers the book and gives Vegas an exasperated look over the rim of his glasses. Pete is wearing glasses. Vegas heart does a happy little skip. Pete is so damn cute with glasses.

“I’m reading this book because I have promised you to make this relationship work. And since I don’t have any experience with prior relationships to fall back on, I might as well educate myself by reading what the experts have to say on the matter.”

“You are such a nerd,” Vegas points out affectionately. “It’s very endearing.”

“This is important to you—of course I’m trying to make sure I don’t mess up.” And there is the dimpled smile again. “You should probably read the book as well, it’s not like you’re an expert on relationships either.”

Vegas looks affronted. “Hey, I’ve been in a relationship before.”

“Really?” Pete blinks in surprise. “I thought this was all new to you, too?”

“I was 17 years old,” Vegas explains. “I was very much in love and had a few blissful weeks before my father found out about it and put my boyfriend in the ICU, and that was the end of it. Well, I guess that doesn’t really count as a real relationship, you’re right.”

“Oh…” It seems that Pete is unsure how to react. “That must have been pretty traumatic?” he eventually guesses, hesitantly.

“You have no idea…” Vegas’ voice trails off. He doesn’t want to be reminded of this incident; it was horrific then, and being reminded of it hurts even now.

“Want to talk about it?”

Vegas sighs. “Not really. Do I have to?”

“It would be nice if you could talk about it but I am not going to force you.” Pete smiles at him. He smiles a lot these days.

It’s been about a week since they got together and it feels as if everything’s changed. Everything. Vegas’ cupboard now has some of Pete’s clothes in it—just in case Pete sleeps over which he does—a lot. The bathroom has Pete’s beauty products, shower gel, his Eau de Toilette—ÉGOÏSTE, and if that isn’t fitting—and even a toothbrush. Pete has bought the food and snacks that he likes as well. He hasn’t moved in fully, but he’s certainly put his mark on the apartment, and Vegas likes it a lot.

Even work has been peaceful, largely due to the fact that Tem apparently has taken a temporary leave of absence to care for his sick grandmother. Vegas is alone in the office and can actually get some work done, it’s incredibly nice to work in peace and quiet. Sometimes Pete joins him and they work beside each other in quiet harmony. Simply looking at Pete makes Vegas feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

This is everything Vegas ever wanted; he’s torn between delight and terror, because there are two big threats looming on the horizon. One of them being the insane serial killer out to get Vegas, the other one being his father, who will go after Pete the moment he finds out about him.

“I met him in high school.” Vegas closes his eyes and starts talking softly. “He was a sweet guy, very gentle. I had a crush on him for the longest time but didn’t dare to act on it. My father was pushing very hard for me to date the daughters of prospective business partners at that time. I think I was about 13 when I first figured out that I wasn’t really interested in girls at all, and I made the colossal mistake of confiding in my father. Let’s just say he didn’t take that well at all, so afterwards I was very careful not to show my attraction to boys.”

“But this boy was simply too cute. I was a teenager with raging hormones, and I felt invincible and rebellious, so in the end I did make a move on him and we got together.” Vegas sighs and then feels Pete’s fingers carding through his hair. The quiet comfort this gives him allows him to continue with his story.

“I had a couple of wonderful weeks of dating, holding hands, the whole shenanigans. I was so happy and so damn stupid, I thought I could have it all. Then my father sent me an invitation for lunch at his favourite restaurant.” Vegas pauses and swallows hard. “I really was so damn stupid. I went there, my father was waiting in front of the entrance for me. I had just said hello and that’s when I saw my boyfriend across the street, heading my way. I still remember the smile on his face the moment he saw me. Myself, I was just frozen in surprise and panic, I couldn’t move. Maybe if I had been able to react, to call out to him, maybe it would have ended differently, who knows…” Once again, Vegas swallows hard.

“He crossed the street to get to me and never really had a chance. I can still see it before me, the moment the car hit him, it has burned itself into my mind. The sound… there was a dull thud… the impact sent him flying through the air, he hit the windshield, slid over the roof and hit the street hard. It was like watching a puppet fall, its limbs fluttering around lifelessly and broken…” Vegas voice trails off; for a moment he’s back on that sidewalk, caught in a nightmare.

“I think I screamed. I don’t remember much more, other than wanting to run to his side, but my father wouldn’t let me. The bodyguards held me back and I had to watch from the side, just a bystander, while strangers tried to save his life. My father made me watch until the ambulance drove off with him.” A shudder runs through Vegas. “I saw the driver who hit him, you know. He was my father’s main bodyguard at that time. It was all arranged. I thought I was so clever, but my father put an end to it.”

“That’s horrible, Vegas. I’m so sorry,” Pete remarks softly, and gently strokes his hair.

“It was just the start, Pete. My father made me go to the hospital and sit in the waiting room with my boyfriend’s parents while the doctors were trying to save his life in the operating theatre. I was just 17…” Again, Vegas swallows hard. It hurts just talking about this. “I had to witness their anxiety and worry, all the while knowing that I was ultimately responsible for their son being in this state.”

“I honestly don’t understand how a father could do this to his child. I really don’t understand. He arranged a private hospital room for his son’s ‘friend’ in the Theerapanyakul family wing, offered generously to pay for all the medical expenses. The parents were so grateful. Father even made me sit in the ICU by my boyfriend’s bedside later on. I will never forget the sounds… the buzzing lights, the squeaking of the shoes on the tiles, the intercom calls, the humming of the pumps, the beeping of the various monitors… And the smell… antiseptics… hospital air…” Vegas shudders again, turns and buries his face against Pete’s stomach.

“He made me sit there for 24 hours and then he made me turn off the life support,” he whispers in a very small voice. “He said that this was all my fault for being a freak and then he made me flip the switch. An hour earlier the doctor had been there, informing us that my boyfriend was expected to make a full recovery, that they were hoping to be able to disconnect him from the life support after another 48 hours. His parents were so relieved, they cried and hugged me. And my father…” Vegas’ voice breaks. “My father…” He can’t even cry anymore about this. “He knew… and he made me flip the switch and watch him suffocate right before my eyes. I loved that boy… and he made me kill him.”

Silence spreads in the room. Vegas has run out of words, and Pete seems shocked into speechlessness. Eventually, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on the top of Vegas’ head. “I’m so very sorry, Vegas. I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me about this traumatic experience, I had no idea. I’m truly sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. He got away with everything, you know? Of course he did, Gun Theerapanyakul always gets what he wants. He probably even paid off all the doctors so there wouldn’t be an inquiry. I fucking hate him.” Vegas snuggles closer against Pete, soaking up the comfort he offers.

“Your father is a horrible person, no wonder you broke off any ties to him.”

“Do you understand now why I’m so worried, Pete?” That worry is gnawing on Vegas day and night, and it’s relentless. “I’m having nightmares about this. But this time the person being hit and flying through the air would be you. You have no idea how scared I am about loosing you, if my father finds out about us.”

Pete sighs softly and runs his fingers through Vegas’ hair for a little while longer. “Give me your phone, Vegas.”

“Hmmm? Why?”

“Because I’m a controlling boyfriend?” Pete snorts softly. “Just give me the damn phone, Vegas. I’ll add you to my ‘Find My’ app so that I don’t have to worry all the time about some serial killer kidnapping you, and you do the same with me, so you can make sure that I am not in the clutches of your father in case I lose contact with you.”

“That sounds like a reasonable idea. Thank you.” Actually, Vegas thinks this is a great idea. If it were up to him he would GPS-tag the hell out of Pete, including some sort of parameter alert if he gets within a certain distance to his father or the family compounds. He’s that worried, yes.

“Now stop worrying, Vegas, everything will be fine. I can stop reading for a while and distract you if you want?”

With his face still buried against Pete’s stomach, Vegas chuckles softly. “Distract me how?” He inhales deeply, Pete smells so damn nice, it’s that Chanel Eau de Toilette.

“Why don’t we retire to the bedroom and find out?” Pete suggests cheekily. Damn that minx. Vegas grins reluctantly. And then he really does get very thoroughly distracted for the next few hours.

----------------------------------------

Vegas wakes up in the middle of the night. He isn’t really awake, and about to fall back asleep. He blindly searches for the warm body that’s supposed to be lying next to him. Oh, there it is. With a contented sigh, he snuggles against it and sleepily opens his eyes. Apparently Pete is also awake and quietly observing him.

“What are you looking at?” Vegas mumbles sleepily. It’s so dark in the room, he can’t clearly see the details of Pete’s face.

“You.” Pete’s voice is a mere whisper in the darkness. “You put yourself between me and a gun… why?”

“Because I like you very very much…” Vegas mumbles. The last thing he sees before he falls asleep again is Pete frowning slightly, as if puzzled by that answer, his eyes not leaving Vegas’ face for the longest time.

----------------------------------------

Vegas is slowly but surely working his way through his part of the database. It’s mind-numbing work. He’s compiling an ever-growing list of wonky murder cases. Nothing that might obviously be part of their murder series yet, but some strange cases nevertheless.

It’s been over a week, and Tem is still absent. Vegas tries to call him several times to check if he can start working on Tem’s part of the database while he’s gone, but no one answers the calls. Tem seems to be sulking. Damn. No one in administration seems to know when he will be back either. Vegas is trying not feel annoyed, but staying calm is a challenge. They don’t have time for such tantrums; the clock is ticking. Who knows when their killer will strike again. He leaves a couple of irritated messages for this partner and then just starts tackling those earlier years as well. Damn, he hates working with this database!

----------------------------------------

The days go by and it’s yet another weekend. Instead of having a quiet evening at home, Vegas finds himself out clubbing. This is, of course, all Pete’s idea, and Vegas is regretting it already, for multiple reasons.

Being out and about with Pete is sheer insanity. They nearly get into a serious argument about this early that evening, because Pete’s still not taking the threat of possible exposure seriously enough. Vegas is though—and he’s terrified. Terrified to be outed. Terrified to be seen by someone who knows him and his father, who will then spill the beans about Vegas having a boyfriend.

Pete just waves all of Vegas’ objections off as if they’re unimportant, which is incredibly irking. Eventually they reach a compromise: they will go out together, but to a bar way across town that Pete apparently knows. Far away from Vegas’ usual hunting grounds. The chances of him encountering anyone he knows here are very slim.

The other reason to regret coming here is that he does not like how the people waiting in line to enter with them ogle his boyfriend—his boyfriend, he can’t wrap his mind around this, will never get used to it. It’s his own fault, in a way. He told Pete to put on those leather pants again and a nice shirt. And he did, the shirt is very nice—and very sheer. Black, with black twigs embroidered on it, and blood-red blossoms. There is a lot of skin on display. Pete looks stunning; it’s a miracle that they even made it out of the apartment without Vegas ravishing him. He did something with his hair too; it looks all ruffled and wild and sexy. Just looking at him is driving Vegas insane.

“Let’s go home again,” he mutters grumpily, and glares at yet another woman looking Pete over with barely disguised lust in her eyes.

Pete just laughs at him. “Stop being so jealous, Vegas. I’m not making a big fuss over all the people staring at you.” And when he sees Vegas sceptical look, he rolls his eyes again. “You’re so oblivious, it’s amazing.”

Nevertheless, he takes Vegas’ hand and squeezes it briefly. Vegas feels a moment of panic; he’s not used to holding hands in public. What if someone recognises him? They talked about this, damn! No touching. Tonight they’re pretending to be just friends. Inconspicuously, Vegas pulls free, and slips his hands into his pockets.

Once they’re inside the club, thumping music washes over them. It’s a busy night, there’s a sea of undulating bodies on the dance floor in the muted, ever-changing lighting. Pete is leading the way, weaving through the crowd as if this is his second home. Vegas has trouble keeping up with him; it’s way too crowded for his liking, and people are getting too close to him for his comfort.

It seems that Pete is heading straight for the bar. Great. Vegas feels another spike of anxiety. Barkeepers are very perceptive. They will figure out what’s going on between Pete and Vegas in a heartbeat, especially if Pete keeps forgetting himself.

The moment the barkeeper spies Pete, she starts smiling widely and gives him a wave. “Oh honey, you are back, long time no see.”

They’re obviously acquainted, and this doesn’t sit well with Vegas.

Pete just grins widely at her. “I came as soon as I had some free time. I’m in the mood to celebrate tonight, so keep the drinks coming.”

Vegas pushes through the crowd to stand behind Pete, and gives the barkeeper a faint smile over Pete’s shoulder. “Not too many drinks tonight for this one here, please.”

“Oh my… A friend of yours, honey?” The woman purrs with delight as she looks Vegas over, then glances back and forth between him and Pete, and arches an eyebrow in question.

Still grinning like a minx, Pete leans back against Vegas, who automatically reaches out to sling an arm around his waist, only to freeze in a panic a second later. Shit, almost slipped! Vegas takes a hasty step back to get some distance between himself and Pete. Despite the music, he can hear Pete’s amused huff.

“My friend is shy, don’t mind him,” Pete declares with a cheeky grin. “I think I’ll start with a Mai Tai… One for Vegas too.”

“No thanks. Cocktails are not my thing. A single malt whiskey for me, please.” Vegas sighs inwardly. They talked about this too, no heavy drinking tonight, but apparently Pete has conveniently forgotten about it. So typical.

Both of them stay by the bar, sipping their drinks while watching the crowd on the dance floor. The music washes over Vegas; he can feel the thumping rhythm with his whole body. He exhales slowly and just allows himself to relax next to Pete. This is nice. Everything will be fine. After a while restless Pete goes to the dance floor. Vegas isn’t into dancing, so he gladly stays behind; just watching Pete is entertaining enough already. Good grief, he just can’t believe he’s in an actual relationship with this unpredictable wild cat. It feels so unreal. And they’re actually out and about, not hiding at home. This is madness.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He’s just so damn in love with Pete. Vegas watches him move in perfect harmony with the energetic rhythm of the music, and he’s enthralled. All mine. I really won the jackpot.

Mai Tai, Negroni…

“You’ll need to wear a different outfit next time we come here, Vegas. Everyone’s staring at you, you look entirely too attractive. Don’t think I’m not aware of it.” Taking a short break from dancing, Pete glares at no one in particular, then lifts Vegas’ hand and tries to kiss his palm.

Vegas’ heart skip a beat and he hastily pulls back his hand. “Pete,” he warns sharply, then glances around to see if anyone noticed. But Pete just laughs and disappears on the dance floor again. Such a minx!

Mimosa, Last Word…

Vegas is still on his first drink while Pete is practically inhaling one cocktail after another. He tries to gently remind him about their ‘No heavy drinking’ rule, but Pete simply ignores him.

“My friend’s so damn handsome, isn’t he? The most gorgeous man in the club.”

Pete smiles giddily at the couple standing beside them waiting for their drinks, and Vegas flinches slightly. He feels his face getting hot with embarrassment.

“Come and dance with me, Vegas, this song is great!” And Vegas is pulled onto the dance floor against his will.

Blue Hawaii, Aviation…

“Vegas, are you having fun? I am having soooo much fun, I’m sooooo damn happy. Are you happy too? I really really want you to be happy…”

Vegas feels the butterflies in his stomach as Pete showers him with those lethal, dimpled smiles, leaning close, so close, way too close. He should probably tell him to stop drinking, Pete is getting a bit wild, what if someone sees them…? Slightly stressed out, Vegas gulps down the remains of his whiskey and orders a new one.

Cosmopolitan, Black Manhattan…

“Stop ogling him, go away, he’s taken,” Pete viciously growls at a harmless bystander just picking up a drink at the bar, while clinging possessively to Vegas, who tries to evade the wandering hands without calling attention to them, and then sends Pete back to the dance floor.

Damn it, has Pete lost his mind? Vegas yo-yos between annoyed exasperation and feeling utterly charmed by Pete’s drunken antics. Because Pete is definitely drunk by now, and Vegas is feeling slightly buzzed as well. How many drinks did he have already? Vegas has lost count, Pete is very distracting. In fact, he’s so distracted by keeping an eye on his out-of-control boyfriend that he doesn’t notice he has company until a very familiar, smiling face suddenly appears right in his line of vision.

“Hello? Earth to Vegas? Are you drunk already or just spacing out?”

Shit. Startled, Vegas takes a surprised step backwards, nearly stumbles because he’s feeling rather unsteady all of a sudden, and then stares wide-eyed at Porsche. Porsche is here. Shit. Oh shit!

The man in question wiggles his eyebrows at Vegas and grins cheekily. “Cat got your tongue, Vegas? I didn’t expect to meet you here, what a lovely surprise.” He turns his head and calls out over the music. “Hey Kinn, look who’s here!”

Shit shit shit. This can’t be happening.

Vegas takes a panicky peek past Porsche and yup, there’s his cousin, looking imposing as always, heading their way. Perfectly dressed, perfectly groomed, immaculately handsome as always. As an automatic reaction to all this perfection, Vegas narrows his eyes in irritation. So typical of Kinn to show up and ruin everything! He curses under his breath and glares at both men.

“Of all the bloody nights and places… why did you have to come here today?!” Fuck! What are Porsche and Kinn doing in this part of Bangkok? What are the odds of them picking the same random place to hang out? What has he done to deserve this? And damn, he shouldn’t have been drinking this much, he feels ill equipped to deal with this impending disaster.

Porsche is taken aback, but Kinn just smirks at Vegas. “Lovely to meet you too, cousin. Of course it would be an even better evening if you weren’t here. How about you leave? Then you don’t have to see me and I don’t have to suffer your presence either.”

Vegas huffs in outrage and forgets about his worries for a moment. Kinn is insufferable! “Well, since I was here first, why don’t you leave?”

“Guys…” Porsche sighs deeply. “Cut it out, okay? We’re in public.” Then he turns to Kinn and gives him one of his signature smiles. “Why don’t you go and buy me a drink?”

Kinn wavers. He’s thoroughly enchanted with Porsche; they’re really nauseatingly in love with each other. His cousin is about to turn around to get Porsche his drink, but then he narrows his eyes while looking at Vegas. At the same moment, Vegas feels an arm slip around his waist and then Pete is curling against his side, leaning his flushed and sweaty face against his shoulder while narrowing his eyes at Porsche, completely ignoring Kinn.

“Well, I’ll be damned…” Porsche is more than a little surprised by Pete’s sudden appearance and this unexpected display of affection. He blinks and gives Vegas a dumbstruck look. “Seriously?”

Vegas is just as startled as Porsche. Oh no. He feels like a deer caught in the headlights, his mind going blank as goosebumps erupt along the path that Pete’s fingers leisurely trail over Vegas’ abdomen. He should probably put a stop to this, but it feels so damn nice…

“Your newest boytoy, cousin?” Kinn inquires silkily, looking Pete over in a way that Vegas finds entirely unacceptable. The instant anger snaps him right out of his daze. But before he can voice his irritation at Kinn’s behaviour, Pete digs his fingers into his waist and Vegas swallows his words.

“Let me guess… you must be the nosy cousin, who called me to interfere with Vegas’ therapy,” Pete comments softly, shifting his attention to Kinn.

Oh, hell. Vegas doesn’t know what he should be more alarmed about; Kinn seeing him with Pete—a very clingy Pete—or Pete taking note of picture-perfect Kinn. Bad memories raise their ugly head; his crushes tend to ignore Vegas whenever is cousin is around. Yes, he feels rather insecure every time Kinn is nearby. Especially when he’s had something to drink, like tonight. Pete’s mine. Kinn better not try anything.

Porsche seems to be stuck between horror and delight about that reply; he exchanges an alarmed look with Vegas, while Pete and Kinn glare at each other. Well, Kinn is glaring in his typical commanding ‘Head of the Main family’ way, while Pete is looking Kinn over with bored insolence. He doesn’t seem to be impressed with Kinn at all.

“This is Vegas’ therapist,” Porsche hastily interjects.

“Therapist? Makes me wonder what kind of therapy you are giving my cousin.” Kinn snorts softly and Vegas growls. He wants to plant his fist in that hated face but once again the fingers digging into his waist remind him that Pete wants to handle this on his own. He should probably do something about these fingers, but some primitive part of him rejoices in Pete’s possessive streak. See Kinn? All mine.

“You should be the last person discussing work ethics with me, Khun Kinn, isn’t that right? I’m sure your body count is higher than mine. When in a glass house…” Pete points out, ever so sweetly, and Vegas feels his lips curl into a reluctant smile.

“Retract the claws, kitten,” he warns Pete affectionally, before turning his attention to Kinn. Perfect Kinn. Kinn who has it all, who never had to hide his lovers. And something in Vegas just snaps, the alcohol in his bloodstream washing away all caution.

“As for you—Watch your mouth. You better behave when it comes to my boyfriend or I swear I will drag you to the bathroom and wash out that mouth with soap,” Vegas threatens him softly.

Before Kinn can explode in his face, Porsche steps between them. “Boyfriend? Such great news, isn’t it, Kinn? We’re really happy for you.”

Kinn snorts again, but immediately glances around cautiously. He must be aware that it wouldn’t do to make a scene in public; you never know who might be watching and taking note. The media is everywhere.

“Yes, we’re indeed delighted that you’ve finally found someone who can stand being in your presence long enough to actually be in a relationship with you, Vegas,” he comments sarcastically.

“Are you very attached to your boyfriend?” Pete asks Porsche softly, then glances around. “No additional bodyguards tonight? Tsk, careless…”

“Wow.” Porsche blinks in astonishment at Pete. “And here I thought you were a mild-mannered cinnamon roll…”

“He fakes it very well, we really are a great match,” Vegas informs Porsche with a certain amount of pride. “Trust me, you do not want to piss him off.” A quick glance at Pete and Vegas feels heat unfurl in his stomach. Pete looks feral. “Tone it down,” he warns Pete playfully. “Unless you want me to drag you off into a dark corner?”

“Good grief…” Kinn makes a gagging sound and rolls his eyes. “Porsche, what drink do you want? If I have to look at this any longer I’ll throw up.” Kinn frowns at both Vegas and Pete and then sighs deeply. “Let us just go to another club, Porsche.”

“But we just got here…” Porsche is slightly irritated with his boyfriend. “You finally had some spare time, you promised me we’d have fun tonight.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Let’s go.” Kinn tugs gently at his arm.

“Make it up to me how?” Porsche seems reluctant to leave.

“I am sure we will come to an agreement,” Kinn murmurs softly, looking Porsche over suggestively, and Vegas snorts softly, because he has a very good idea where they’ll end up if they actually leave; and—spoiler alert—it won’t be another nightclub.

“I’m intrigued, tell me more,” Porsche laughs at his boyfriend, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He winks at Vegas. “Got to go, it seems. We need to have lunch soon, I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m afraid Vegas will not be able to meet you anytime soon for lunch. Or dinner. Or a coffee. Or just in general.” The smile Pete gives Porsche is sweet, but chilling. “I suggest you stick to phone calls for now.”

Once again, Porsche is struck speechless. Before he can reply, Kinn grabs his arm and starts dragging him away.

“What a sensible suggestion for once. There really is no need for you to meet Vegas in person. Goodbye, cousin. Let’s not meet again anytime soon.”

“Seriously Kinn? Still jealous of Vegas?” Porsche starts arguing, as he’s being led away, off into the crowd.

“Hey Kinn…” Vegas has a moment of clearheadedness and calls out after them. “Keep your mouth shut about this, all right?” And he nods towards Pete.

Kinn stops for a moment and gives Vegas a hard look. “I might despise you, but I’m not cruel, Vegas. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” And with that he leaves, dragging his boyfriend along with him.

“Just out of curiosity, what are you going to do if I meet up with Porsche?” Vegas turns his attention back to Pete, absurdly pleased about his possessiveness.

“You don’t want to find out, Vegas. Stick to phone calls for now, if you care about Porsche’s health.”

“You are such a vicious feral kitten,” Vegas chuckles, then throws all caution to the wind, slips both arms around Pete’s waist and does the unthinkable—he gives him a quick kiss. In public. Where people can see them. But he’s so tired of hiding, so damn tired. He loves Pete and he wants to be able to express his feelings openly. Just like his irritating cousin always does with Porsche. Only a quick kiss, surely that’s okay. Vegas feels dizzy, if it’s from the kiss, or from all the alcohol, he isn’t sure.

“You’re getting more and more adventurous.” Pete smiles drunkenly at Vegas, and the damn dimple makes an appearance. Vegas wants to eat him alive.

“Go dance, Pete. I’ll get you another cocktail. Enjoy yourself. Let’s have a fun evening now that my cousin’s gone, all right?” Vegas gives him another quick kiss, and then affectionately ruffles his hair.

With Kinn gone, their evening out resumes as planned. They have a few more drinks; Vegas no longer cares about limiting himself, and Pete’s going wild. He seems determined to drink himself through the whole rainbow of colours tonight. Since he’s clearly enjoying himself, Vegas doesn’t put a stop to it. Whenever Pete is dancing, Vegas sits by the bar and simply watches him. Life is good; he could get used to this.

When it becomes very obvious that Pete is more than a little drunk, Vegas decides to call it a night. “Why don’t you go to the restroom and splash some water on your face, Sunshine, I don’t want you passing out on me again. I’ll settle the bill and then we go home.”

“I like it when you call me sunshine.” Pete is leaning against him, he kisses Vegas’ cheek repeatedly and sighs happily.

Vegas can smell the alcohol on his breath. Yes, very much drunk indeed.

“I’ll be right back… no flirting while I’m gone, no no no…” And he gives Vegas a look that’s supposed to be stern, but instead makes him look incredibly cute, like a little boy protecting his toys. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how everyone’s staring at you, Vegas.”

“So you keep telling me. Let them stare, I’m not interested,” Vegas reassures him. “Now off you go.”

He gently pushes Pete away and goes to settle the bill. Vegas is not a party animal in general; now and then he likes nights like this, but hopefully they won’t do this every weekend. There are simply too many people around for him to feel fully comfortable, and it’s too loud. And he does not like the way people look at Pete either, that damn jealousy keeps bubbling up now and then.

Vegas is distracted, until one of the many bar employees approaches him, looking slightly anxious. “Excuse me, I think your friend has run into a bit of a problem in the restroom, I think you should go and have a look.”

Oh bloody hell, what now? He better not be throwing up, Vegas frets as he makes his way through the crowd as swiftly as possible in his own inebriated state. That’s it, no more unlimited cocktails for Pete. The poor guy will have such a hangover tomorrow, it’s just not worth it.

But throwing up doesn’t seem to be the problem this time. Vegas enters the restroom, takes one look, and immediately feels his hackles rising. It seems his boyfriend has attracted a parasite. A very familiar parasite.

Pete is at the back of the restroom, pushed into a corner. He looks flushed and flustered and is in the middle of a heated argument with the idiot crowding him, who happens to be fucking Tawan. Who has his hand on Pete’s waist and the other is caressing Pete’s cheek. Pete tries to push the hands away repeatedly. A small group of partygoers is standing nearby, watching the two arguing men curiously.

Vegas feels himself going very still. “Kindly remove your hands from my man,” he says softly, because he too incensed to even shout. How dare this asshole touch Pete! Mine!

“My knight in shining armour…” Pete slurs the moment he sees Vegas. He looks vastly relieved while trying to shrug off Tawan’s wandering hands. “See him? Just look at him,” and he manages to point at Vegas while he continues to argue. “All mine. Don’t want anyone else. Just go away, Tawan.”

Tawan does not go away. No, this parasite turns his head to glower at Vegas. He reminds Vegas of a well-dressed doll; expensive suit, expensive tie, expensive haircut. Just another spoiled rich kid who doesn’t get his will and sulks because someone else took his toy. Vegas simply can’t take him seriously. But this spoiled brat has his hands all over Vegas’ boyfriend, and that is simply unacceptable.

“Seriously Sunshine, I leave you alone for a short while and look what happens. Maybe I need to handcuff you to me the next time we come here.” Vegas locks eyes with Pete and winks playfully, but there is a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he slowly strolls towards them.

“Fuck off,” Tawan bitches, his tone of voice grating on Vegas’ nerves. He even has the nerve to smirk at him. “Pete’s just temporarily confused—he was mine long before he met you.” He strokes Pete’s cheek again. If Vegas had claws, they would extend now.

The comment about handcuffs seems to excite Pete; despite the mess he’s in he’s suddenly grinning widely at Vegas. “You know I like your handcuffs…” But then he frowns and slaps away the hand that keeps touching his face. “Damn it, Tawan, stop it, I was never yours. Why on earth would I want you when I can have Vegas?”

This elicits an angry snarl from Tawan; it seems Pete has hurt his feelings. Not that Vegas cares about this man’s feelings. Pete can stomp on them as much as he wants. As for himself, he’s about to do some stomping too. “Want me to rescue you, Pete?” he asks, his voice deceptively mild.

“Pretty please.” Pete gives him a dimpled, drunken smile and as far as Vegas is concerned, this is all the permission he needs. He told Tawan to stop touching Pete, but the guy didn’t listen. Tough luck. Time to teach this parasite some consequences.

Vegas springs into action, and he can move pretty fast when he wants to. Tawan doesn’t even have time to be alarmed before Vegas slams into him and grabs him by his hair and the back of his shirt, yanking him violently away from Pete.

“Mine!” he snarls, and uses the force of the movement, coupled with a half-turn of his body, to casually slam the other man into the wall. “Don’t fucking touch what’s mine!”

There’s some commotion behind Vegas as the curious bystanders, who until now were just watching the drama unfold, now hurry to leave the restroom in a panic. And it’s probably good for them to leave, because Vegas isn’t done with Tawan yet. He still has his hold on the now groaning man and drags him across the floor, further away from Pete. Tawan flails and tries to break free, but Vegas is relentless.

“You don’t seem like you’ve gotten the message to leave my boyfriend alone,” Vegas snaps at him in irritation. “Well, let me make it perfectly clear to you once and for all…”

The all familiar rage is flooding Vegas, and this time he welcomes it with open arms. A kick and the door to one of the toilet stalls crashes open. Panicking, Tawan scrambles to break free, looses his footing on the tiles and goes down, but Vegas’ hold on him is unbroken; he just drags the now screaming man into the stall and then slams his face against the toilet bowl, hard. Blood explodes from Tawan’s nose.

“Pete is mine!” Fury is surging through Vegas now, Tawan was touching his Pete and that’s simply unacceptable. Again, he slams the man’s head against the porcelain toilet seat. More blood, this time from the mouth.

“Mine!” … slam…“Mine!” …slam… “Mine!”

Vegas just continues doling out the violence, red bleeding into his vision… red red red …just like the blood splattering on the white tiles and fixtures.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you ever touch him again, or approach him, do you hear me?!”

The pretty doll isn’t so pretty anymore, it screams and moans and groans and whimpers and it’s annoying as hell so without a second thought, Vegas dunks its head into the toilet bowl, down into the water. There, better. No more screaming. Grim satisfaction fills him. It doesn’t stop struggling though, in fact, it struggles even more now. But Vegas is holding on like a man possessed, he’s caught in a world of red hot rage, and all he wants is to shut this thing up, erase it, end it. Mine mine mine, the beast inside him howls.

“I don’t fucking share…!” he hisses.

Hands grab him… déjà vu… another time, another body. “Khun Vegas… Khun Vegas… Stop… you are killing him!”

As if he fucking cares, he will take care of this Tawan problem once and for all—mine mine mine—but the damn hands keep pulling him away.

“Khun Vegas… don’t!”

Vegas growls and manages to kick the pitiful doll hanging lifelessly over the toilet bowl one more time as he’s being dragged away and out of the stall.

…Red Red Red…

And then there are fresh hands, different hands, arms that encircle him from behind and hold him back, hot hands diving underneath his shirt, there is shocking skin contact, heat against his back and a familiar voice, whispering in his ear.

“Vegas…”

He’s so goddamn fucking angry…

“Vegas…”

He just wants to grind that parasite into the dust…

“Vegas…”

He wants to rip off those hands so that they will never again touch what is his…

“Vegas…” And then someone—Pete—bites his earlobe.

Shit, that hurts. What the hell? The unexpected pain makes some of the rage evaporate and Vegas comes back to his sense. He’s still in the restroom. Some bar employees are administering first aid to Tawan, who looks pretty beat up—serves him right! And there is Pete, hugging him from behind, he smells of alcohol and rosewood, apparently he’s just bit him, and now he’s sucking on the very same earlobe, wringing a gasp from Vegas.

“That was so damn hot,” Pete whispers breathlessly. “Such a freaking turn on…”

Vegas is still riding the after-violence adrenaline rush, he’s feeling a bit dazed but at the same time he is very much aware of Pete pressing against him. He can clearly feel just how aroused he is… and Vegas just snaps, flipping from violent rage straight into dizzying lust. He grabs Pete by the shirt and marches out of the restroom while pulling him along, without a backward glance at the mess he made. Vegas is aware that Pete is laughing, trying to keep up with him without stumbling, very unsteady on his feet because he’s so damn drunk. Whatever. Such a damn tease, pushing all the right buttons when it comes to Vegas. Being with Pete will certainly never get boring.

Some brave employees step into his path, trying to stop him from leaving, but Vegas is a man on a mission now. Growling, he flashes his police badge, shoving it more or less into their faces. “Get the fuck out of my way!” he hisses aggressively and shoulders past them.

Vegas has an iron grip on Pete, pulling him along, and is making his way through the crowd towards the inevitable back door. They need to get away from other people. They need some privacy right now.

There it is. Vegas opens the back door, yanks Pete through it and kicks the door shut again. It leads into a dimly illuminated courtyard area, connected to a larger alley, used to store delivery crates and barrels, and where the employees come for their cigarette breaks. There are red lanterns hanging from wires, red and blue neon signs, faded posters on the walls, some chairs and tables, and some benches.

Pete stumbles against him, chuckling wildly, drunken mischief written all over his cute face. “Are you going to lecture me about flirting with other people again?” He gives Vegas one of his Cheshire Cat smiles. “Are you going to beat them up as well?” The way Pete is looking at him sets Vegas blood on fire. “You are so damn sexy when you are all feral, Vegas…”

Vegas huffs, caught between amusement and exasperation. “Lecture you? Hell, no. You like me being feral? Kitten, you are in for a wild ride then.” He’s come to the end of his tether, grabs Pete’s face and kisses him roughly; an insane open mouthed kiss with a lot of tongue that sends excited shockwaves through his whole body. This is such a bad idea since they’re in a public space, Vegas has had a few too many drinks, the adrenaline from the fight is still buzzing in his veins, and Pete is obviously very drunk. But when have they ever behaved rationally?

Pete actually growls, he’s very much into the kiss, apparently he wasn’t kidding when he said that he was turned on, because he’s pretty frantic at this point. Vegas will probably have scratch marks on his back the next day, the way Pete is clawing at him.

They stumble backwards in their kiss until Pete’s back hits the nearby wall and Vegas comes up for air, breathing hard. “I’m going to fuck you and it’s going to be rough, so now is your one and only chance to stop me, kitten.”

Judging from the look on Pete’s face, that warning just manages to turn him on even more. “Stop talking, Vegas, and just do it,” he pants excitedly. “You know I’m not a damn porcelain doll that’s going to break easily.”

So much for that. Vegas grins darkly and pulls Pete in for another long and wild kiss. Then he grabs him and turns him around, shoving him against the wall face first. While nuzzling Pete’s neck and inhaling his intoxicating scent, he quickly unzips Pete’s leather pants, pulling them down and groans. No underwear—again!

“You damn minx…” Vegas is so delighted he can’t put it into words. “Promise me, next time you’ll tell me, so I that I’ll know you’re naked underneath whenever I look at you during the evening.”

Pete laughs breathlessly, wiggling his bare ass. “I knew you’d like it.”

“Oh yes, I like it very much…” Vegas whispers into his ear, and draws his teeth and lips along the line of Pete’s neck while undoing his own pants. Pete shudders against him. “Hands on the wall, and hold on.” As soon as Pete is steadying himself against the wall, Vegas smacks his ass and then pulls his hips back towards him. “I’m sorry…” He breathes against his neck. “This is going to hurt.” They have no condom and no lube, so yeah… some spit will have to do.

Pete snorts, completely unconcerned but a moment later he yells, because yes, it hurts. Vegas quickly slaps his hand over Pete’s mouth to stifle the sounds.

“Sorry. Just try to breath through it.”

And then he shoves himself deeply inside Pete, whose whole body tenses in pain. Damn, this is almost uncomfortably tight even for Vegas. If he didn’t have complete trust in Pete to speak up if it were to hurt too much, he wouldn’t do it.

One hand keeps covering Pete’s mouth, the other hand grabs one of Pete’s wrists, pressing it against the wall. “Pete…” Vegas gasps against his throat, nipping at it.

Pete groans in a mix of pain and pleasure, and Vegas stops holding back. He said it would be rough, so rough is what Pete gets. It’s a hard and fast fuck—this is all about Vegas needing to blow off some steam after the earlier violent interlude. Pete is just along for the ride right now, his shouts are stifled by Vegas’ hand, he’s shaking and trembling, the force of Vegas’ thrusts slamming him relentlessly against the wall.

At some point the door opens, an employee wants to have a cigarette break; he takes one look at the scene before him and hastily makes a u-turn, disappearing inside again.

Vegas has been wanting to do this since their first unforgettable night at this bar. It feels as if the gates have opened, and everything he’s been so carefully holding back is pouring out of him in this moment. He’s always held back when it comes to his sexual encounters, always. But with Pete it feels as if he can let go, that Pete can take whatever he throws at him, that he can take a rough ride and even enjoy it.

And damn, he’s taking it so well. Vegas groans as he buries himself as deep as possible inside of Pete. As he kisses Pete’s throat he can feel him trembling violently. The sounds Pete is making are a huge turn-on; he would be screaming down the house if Vegas wasn’t stopping him. Pete’s legs buckle and Vegas has to hold him up, pressing him hard against the wall; Pete will probably have abrasions on his face from being rubbed against the stone surface, because he can’t even steady himself with his arms anymore, he’s just a trembling mess. It’s exciting as hell but all good things must come to an end.

“Mine!” Vegas growls against Pete’s neck as he shudders through his orgasm.

Pete just whimpers; he seems incapable of forming coherent words any more. Vegas knees are shaking badly as well, but he has to hold both of them up because he doesn’t want to end up on this dirty floor with Pete, no thanks.

“Bloody hell…” He feels as if he’s just finished running a marathon, completely drained. “Are you all right?” Vegas somehow manages to ask Pete, who shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes his head again.

“Sorry?” It feels as if he’s expected to apologise but in truth, Vegas isn’t sorry at all. As far as he’s concerned, this was mind-blowingly great sex, and he deserved every second of it.

It takes Pete a few attempts to get the words out. He sounds hoarse and exhausted. “I’m not complaining.”

But when Vegas slips out of him, he hisses in pain and takes a deep steadying breath. Vegas takes note of this, feeling pure satisfaction.

“Can you stand on your own?”

Because he’s still holding Pete up like a limp puppet, pressed against the wall, cradled in his arms.

Pete weakly shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Happy now, Vegas?”

“Hell yeah…” Vegas chuckles. He’s fully engulfed in the after-sex glow and it feels damn nice.

“You should have done this in the restroom, in front of Tawan, to rub it in,” Pete whispers tiredly, and Vegas is speechless for a second at the pure viciousness of that suggestion.

He kisses Pete’s throat again, licking the scar he marked him with and sighs contentedly. “Time to retract the claws, kitten. I think he got the message loud and clear this time, even without going to such extremes.”

“It would have been hot though…” Pete mumbles, and Vegas notes that he’s starting to slur his words.

“Time to head home and call it a night, kitten.” He checks his pockets for some tissues to clean them up a bit before leaving, and puts their clothes back into order. Pete allows himself to be manhandled, he really has run out of fuel, the alcohol is hitting him hard now.

“Call me your sunshine again… I like being your sunshine…” He slurs, completely collapsing against Vegas.

“Let me carry you home then, Sunshine.”

Vegas gives him an affectionate peck on the lips and somehow manages to sling Pete onto his back in a piggyback position, holding on to his arms and legs so that he doesn’t slip off again as they make their way out of the alleyway.

Pete nuzzles his neck and sighs softly. “…you’re my Sunshine too… so dark before… ” And then he falls silent, his head resting heavily on Vegas’ shoulder.

Yes, life is good. Vegas can’t stop smiling. Life is crazy, it’s unpredictable, but right now it’s damn good.

----------------------------------------

The whole kitchen smells deliciously of food. At long last, Vegas is done with the damn database search. It would have gone so much faster with the help of his partner, but Vegas had to do it all on his own in the end, because Tem, the bastard, is still sulking and on leave. In order to celebrate, Vegas has bought dinner on his way home and is now filling various bowls and plates, heading back and forth between the kitchen and the dining area. A quick glance at his watch; Pete’s cutting it close, but he should be here soon, which is good, because Vegas is hungry. It’s been a long day at work.

Then his phone rings. For the briefest of moments, Vegas tenses, but it isn’t Arm calling, thank God, it’s Pete’s number. While on his way to the table, Vegas is trying to juggle two plates with hot food while answering his phone at the same time.

“The food is ready, you better be here soon.”

There is static at the other end. Bad connection? Eventually some noises. Maybe pocket dialing? Vegas rolls his eyes, so typical for Pete. Then he finally hears Pete’s voice, sounding very far away, muffled and hard to understand. Yes, must be pocket dialing. Vegas has to smile.

“—Well, that … unexpected… where is Vegas?—”

Since he’s right here at home, and Pete should know that, Vegas stops in mid-motion and frowns, trying to make out more of the conversation, but the connection is really bad; he can only understand a few words now and then.

“—no time for… … leaving… … nonsense… … call—”

What the hell is this about? Vegas is confused and slowly starts to walk towards the table to set down the plates because they’re heavy and awkward to hold, and his hands are starting to hurt from the heat. He can hear more, indistinct noises before Pete’s voice suddenly becomes crystal clear against his ear.

“—Just what are you planning to do with that gun?—”

And then all that’s left is the beeping of a disconnected call. The plates slip from Vegas’ suddenly numb fingers and shatter on the floor, spilling food all over the ground.