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The afternoon heat feels like a haze washing over Pete, tiring his body out, though he hasn’t done much the entire day. He woke up relatively late, bid Macau goodbye as he left for his classes, and reorganized tidbits in their living space to take away from the “we just moved in a few weeks ago” vibe. Now, sitting at the kitchen table, the gentle midday heat seeping in through the open windows, Pete looks down at his tab displaying their monthly expenses, and lets his thoughts drift.
He has been doing a lot of that recently. Thinking. Organizing. Reorganizing. Life before Vegas seems like a different version of himself. A version that would be moldable to any surrounding he was put in. Truth be told, that’s how he felt most comfortable, just another mindless soul blending into a slew of bodyguards, dedicated and loyal, as he was meant to be; the thought of being seen something so feared and far-fetched. But, now, it feels wrong to hide himself away, not when he has someone who sees him for who he is. So, he stops hiding, blending, pretending. Not when he is with Vegas.
He thinks of their home as sacred, pure, because they can have every part of them out in the open with no one to point fingers, judge, or hate. So, he changes little things here and there, to make it more of their home. Sometimes it’s altering insignificant things that are noticed in passing, like swapping the light-colored curtains of their bedroom for a shade of dark gray so Vegas doesn’t have to grunt and turn over to the other side of the bed every morning (and make Pete move with him as well). Or moving all of the spices from the top cabinet of the kitchen to the low counter drawers so Vegas doesn’t have to stretch his healing muscles to reach for them every time he’s cooking.
Other times, though, the changes are a bit more nefarious in nature. Macau’s question about why they opted out their wooden bed frame for a metal one still remains unanswered. There is also a hidden corner between their washer and dryer in the laundry room that has now been occupied by a bottle of lube and a stack of condoms. Small things, big differences, especially in moments of urgency.
It makes Pete smile. Whatever semblance of a life they have together, however messed up it may be, it’s still theirs. Each of them, Pete, Vegas and Macau, have a place to call theirs. They belong: a luxury that each of them had lost once before. When Vegas was in the hospital, unconscious and so so fragile, Pete feared where they would go after all of this was over. Where they would belong. Where he would belong. He never regretted leaving the main family. Not once. Not when Vegas would throw nasty words at him to make him leave. Not when he would refuse to speak to him for days on end. Not even when he held Pete close, shaking, crying and begging to know why he was still here.
Then, Vegas didn’t know the lengths Pete would go to for him; how deep his love blazed in his veins just for him. In that moment, in that hospital, Pete would have died for Vegas if he had just said the word. Pete doesn’t blame him though, for not understanding. He knows Vegas was scared. So was he. Absolutely terrified of what was to come. Vegas had lost every semblance of the life he once knew to be his own. His father was dead and for a son who only craved to be accepted as one, that was the single most devastating thing. Pete knows how hollowing and utterly destructive that feeling can be. So, all Pete could do was hold Vegas close to his heart, and hope that he could hear how strong Pete’s heart beats only for him, because of him. Hope that Vegas could see himself for the worthy person he is. Worthy to be appreciated, worthy to be accepted, worthy to be loved.
Pete startles slightly as he feels a warm sensation on his neck, bringing him out of his thoughts. He relaxes immediately as a pair of arms envelop his own and he feels a kiss being pressed to the back of his neck. “Hi,” Vegas murmurs near his ear, kissing it softly before nibbling right under it, definitely leaving a mark. Pete does a poor job of hiding the shiver that travels through his body, which earns him a soft chuckle.
Vegas sounds so sleepy and satiated that Pete has to turn his head to take a look at him. His heart fills with adoration as he takes in Vegas, his Vegas, messy strands sticking out in every direction, eyes half-lidded and lazy as they meet Pete’s own, and pouty lips that only deserve the sweetest kisses.
So, Pete leans closer, eyes fixated on his lips. Vegas gets the hint and closes the space between them. He hums as their lips move, lazy, slow but full of unbridled love. Pete groans when he feels Vegas slip his tongue inside, soft but teasing. Vegas’ hands move, one to his waist, gripping it lightly, and the other one to his face, fingers holding Pete’s face as if he is the single most delicate thing in the world. It makes Pete’s heart surge with affection.
It should be absurd how affected Pete remains even after countless displays of affection. The touches don’t feel electric like they used to at first, when Pete left like a live wire with an insatiable amount of hunger, ready to snap at any moment. Instead, the touches feel warm, steady, like molten lava that slowly settles in his lower abdomen, his heart, his lips. Vegas feels like the familiarity of a warm hug intertwined with the scorch of a million suns. He feels like home.
Vegas pulls back a little to breathe once they have been kissing for a while, placing soft kisses all across Pete’s nose, cheeks, and jaw, making him giggle. “Sleep well, handsome?” Vegas hums an answer into his skin as he moves to pressing his lips against Pete’s neck again. Pete sighs, leaning back into the touch while his fingers intertwine with Vegas’ on his waist. Vegas had been advised to take frequent naps throughout the day to recuperate after being let go from the hospital. At first, he’d protested, claiming he didn’t need so much rest. Pete understood it to an extent, Vegas had only been in bed rest the entire time at the hospital, and there’s so much of that a person can take before they become agitated. But as days went by out of the hospital, Vegas had reluctantly set up a nap routine for himself after not being able to huff and puff his way through the day. Pete had just smiled and left the bedroom curtains conveniently closed throughout the afternoons.
“What have you been doing?” Vegas asks softly, placing his chin on Pete’s shoulder, glancing at the tab placed on the table. “Just going through our expenses,” Pete says as he moves the device so Vegas can see it better. Vegas lets out a low whistle as his eyes scan the screen, resolutely not addressing the random but very noticeable expensive purchases he’d made throughout the month. Pete doesn’t comment on it either, merely casting a knowing glance at Vegas. Their rapidly growing stack of ridiculously expensive sex toys is worth the investment after all.
“Seems like we’ve been pretty good this month,” Vegas says, one hand on the table as he leans in closer to take a better look. Pete takes a moment to admire the view, Vegas’ side profile being something he will never get tired of. The little unintentional frown on his face as he focuses, paired with high cheekbones and sharp eyes, he is a sight to behold. Pete doesn’t realize he’s been staring for a substantial amount of time until he feels Vegas’ hand on his waist tighten, and watches his lips twist into a slight smirk, eyes moving from the bright screen to Pete’s face. The sudden shift in his stare makes Pete’s head spin a little. He doesn’t look away. Vegas’ smirk only deepens as he leans closer, closer, closer until their noses are touching, breaths mingling in unity.
“Enjoying the view, baby?” Pete’s gaze moves from dark eyes to soft lips and he nods, almost mindlessly. He inhales sharply when warm fingers travel under his loose shirt, barely there touches that graze his stomach and move upwards. With their lips only being a breath away from touching, Pete leans forward, prompting Vegas to do the same. The anticipation makes him feel like a teenager having his very first kiss, and it should be ridiculous but with Vegas, it just makes sense. Vegas just has that effect on Pete, the very essence of his presence makes Pete feel everything like it’s the first time.
Pete makes a noise when, instead of his own mouth, he feels the presence of soft lips on his neck again, a hint of teeth and tongue making him jolt. “Vegas,” Pete breathes, a tinge of frustration coloring his tone because he knows what Vegas is doing. But he doesn’t feel like giving in. For now. His hands move to grip the back of Vegas’ head, fingers tangling in the soft locks harshly, and Pete revels in the slight hitch in Vegas’ breathing. Vegas retaliates by letting the hand on Pete’s stomach travel further up to one of his nipples, pinching and tugging it not so gently. Pete lets out a light moan, arching into the sensation, his grip momentarily loosening before they gain their momentum again.
“What is it, baby?” Vegas asks, soft and low, as he licks across Pete’s pulse point, sucking a bruise into the skin, one that Pete will press into and admire in the mirror later. Pete suppresses the whine threatening to spill from his lips, instead pouting as his hands travel down to grab Vegas’ jaw, maneuvering him to face Pete. “Kiss me,” Pete demands, and doesn’t miss the way Vegas’ eyes round in adoration before they sharpen again, a familiar smirk adorning his face.
“Such a demanding boy.”
Despite the comment, Vegas leans in and finally, finally, kisses Pete. The initial press of their lips is comfortable, familiar, warm. This time, though, Pete is the one to shove his tongue into Vegas’ mouth, moaning filthily against his lips, because he knows what it’ll get him. He smiles when he feels Vegas’ grip on him tighten and the groan that is swallowed by his own mouth. As much as Pete loves Vegas when he’s soft and adoring, he is obsessed with cocky, confident, alluring Vegas.
And that’s exactly what he gets as he feels Vegas take over the kiss. Pete readily parts his mouth as Vegas licks into him so thoroughly it makes his head spin. For a while, it’s just them kissing, searing, hot and wet. Pete feels his cock already half hard in his sweatpants and it twitches when Vegas bites at his bottom lip, tugging it and then pulling back from Pete. He maneuvers them so Pete is standing, back pressed against the table, and Vegas is in between his legs. A leg is wedged between Pete’s legs and he sighs in relief as he grinds slowly against it. Vegas’ eyes scan him up and down, and despite being fully clothed, he’s never felt more naked. Vegas’ stare strips him bare to his skin and bones, every desire out on display, and Pete would have it no other way.
Vegas plants his hands on either side of Pete’s hips, leaning in closer, nosing Pete’s throat and placing occasional kisses on his tingling skin. Pete tips his head back, eyes closed, and presses harder on the thigh between his legs, his breaths coming out faster as his cock fills out in his pants. Immediately, hands grab his own and they are pressed hard against the table, and Vegas pins him against the edge with his hips, effectively immobilizing him. It leaves him breathless as he stares up at the dark eyes boring into him, lust-filled and carrying just the right amount of mean.
“Behave.”
Vegas’ voice is soft but the command is stone cold, and it has Pete’s blood rushing in his veins and he immediately stills. Vegas smirks, pressing his leg harder against Pete’s fully hard cock, chuckling when Pete whines in the effort of willing his body to stay put. Vegas starts a slow grind, lips attacking Pete’s neck, leaving marks to complement the existing ones.
Pete feels the exact moment his brain starts to slow down, slowly turning to mush, and he closes his eyes, letting the pulsing pleasure and pain course through his body. He gasps at a particular harsh bite right at the junction between his neck and shoulder, which is immediately followed by the wet soothe of a hot tongue. He wonders what color it’ll bloom as and shivers at the thought of being able to press into it and feel the remnants of this moment. He’s cut off from his thoughts by unforgiving fingers gripping his face, making him snap his eyes open.
“Keep your eyes on me, pet.”
Pete swallows at the dark stare, but nods. The fingers loosen, gently caressing his cheeks and jaw as they travel downwards. Then, they wrap around his throat, lightly at first, almost teasing, before the pressure increases, until Pete’s face heats up and he is truly incapable of any coherent thoughts. His lips fall open but nothing comes out. There’s a warm sensation near his ear and he belatedly realizes Vegas is nibbling and biting on it as his grip steadily increases in strength.
“What do you want, Pete?”
Pete’s so fucking hard, he knows he’s leaking and staining the front of his sweats. All he wants is for Vegas to fuck him right here against the table. He opens his mouth to say just that but no words come out. Partly because he’s being choked but also because his brain is currently not functioning and all it can think about is Vegas. So he says as much, a gasp of Vegas’ name, which has Vegas grinning as he pulls his head back, looking at Pete with so much lust and hunger that Pete feels breathless for a whole different reason.
The grip on his throat loosens a bit, and he takes in a gulp of air, willing his voice to work because he knows Vegas won’t do anything unless he tells him to. Vegas’ hands travel down his sides, gripping his waist before lifting the hem of his shirt up to his armpits. He moves down, eyes locked with Pete’s, and licks across one of his perked nipples. Pete keens, hands coming up to tangle in Vegas’ hair. A sharp bite follows on his nipple, making him gasp in pain but arch into it at the same time.
“Hands to yourself, pet.”
The sharp words vibrate on Pete’s chest and his cock twitches. His hands come down to his sides, gripping the edge of the table and Vegas hums satisfactorily, continuing his ministrations on Pete’s chest. He licks his nipples, alternating between the two with harsh bites and hot sucks. By the time he pulls back, Pete’s chest is a canvas painted solely by Vegas’ mouth and his heart flutters at the thought. Vegas stands up to his full height, and his gaze admires Pete. He knows what he looks like right now is Vegas’ favorite, flushed cheeks, panting, neck and chest marked and claimed, cock hard and leaking in his pants. He just hopes Vegas does something about it soon.
“So fucking beautiful.” Vegas says it as if he’s talking to himself, his gaze filled with so much love and adoration, it makes Pete’s heart wild in his chest. He blushes harder than he already was, gaze dropping from Vegas’ face because the raw admiration in it is something he is not used to yet. Vegas tuts, lifting Pete’s chin with his finger, leaning in to brush his lips against Pete’s in the softest, sweetest kiss. “None of that, baby, eyes on me.” Vegas smiles, and Pete follows, swallowing back the lump in his throat. He’s so in love with Vegas, it hurts. He surges forward for another kiss, this one more unbridled and raw with hunger. Vegas’ thumb traces his cheek as he kisses back, giving back just as good.
Vegas pulls back after a while, and like a moth to a flame, Pete follows, leaning forward to kiss him again. But Vegas chuckles and pushes Pete back to the table, pinning him against it with his own body. “You haven’t answered yet, pet, what do you want?” Pete worries his lips in thought for a second before returning his gaze to Vegas.
“Fuck me, right here.”
Vegas smiles, deranged and dark. It looks perfect on him. He grips Pete’s shoulders, turning him around, and Pete rests his hands on the table, steadying himself. It’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of the rustling of clothes, and then Vegas’ bare chest is pressed up against Pete’s back. He presses kisses to the back of Pete’s neck, biting occasionally as he descends down his body. Finally, his hands grip Pete’s ass and Pete groans, pushing back against the touch. The hands are strong and sure as they part his ass, a dry finger rubbing against his hole, making it clench desperately. Pete moans, head dropping at the sensation and he can’t help but push against it.
A sharp slap sounds against his ass, and he gasps at the pain. “Be still.” He squirms a little when fingers grip right where he was slapped, making the skin tingle, but then he stills. Vegas rubs his hole again, feeling it clench and unclench as he pushes his finger in a little. Pete groans and squeezes his eyes, willing himself not to move. “As much as I know you’d love me to fuck you dry, I have to get lube.” With that, the hands on Pete’s ass disappear and he turns his see Vegas stand up, their eyes catch and Vegas smiles. It’s such a soft smile and Pete goes a bit breathless at the juxtaposition of the adoring smile and the stinging remnants of the slap on his ass. “Be right back, pretty. Stay.”
Vegas turns and leaves for their bedroom, and Pete thinks they should really find a secret compartment somewhere in this area for a bottle of lube. He relaxes against the table and hears the light padding of footsteps getting closer, and the anticipation builds up again in his gut. He turns to see Vegas clicking open the cap on the lube and spreading some on his fingers. Vegas’ eyes are on his as he spreads the liquid on his hole, a finger teasing the rim before pushing in. Pete pants, he’s still open from when they fucked last night but the feeling of Vegas’ fingers is so good it makes the heat in his gut ignite further.
Pete gasps when he feels deft fingers nudge his prostate. Moans spill out of him and his toes curl when Vegas keeps barely touching his prostate, pulling his fingers out before they can properly stimulate him. Pete knows he’s doing it on purpose. It’s too much but also nearly not enough. He needs more. He whines his displeasure, eyes rounding as he looks back at Vegas, gaze pleading, desperate, wanting. He pushes back slightly, arching his hip, pushing his ass out in a way he knows looks obscene. He wants Vegas to see just how eager he is for him.
Vegas freezes momentarily, eyes impeccably dark and slightly surprised as they take him in. Pete hears the hitch in his breath, the way his cock twitches where it's pressed against Pete’s bare skin, and the delicious way the hand gripping his ass tightens even further. Vegas snarls, pushing his fingers up to his knuckles into Pete’s hole, directly against his prostate. Pete cries out, hands scrambling to hold onto the edge of the table.
Vegas is a man with impeccable control over his body, especially during sex. It’s something that Pete finds unfairly attractive about him, but what he loves more is the times he’s able to make Vegas lose this carefully crafted control. It sparks his desire alight to an entirely different level. It’s when he gets to break Vegas apart, skin and bones, just like Vegas does to him. And the fact that it’s solely because of Pete. For his eyes only. Fuck. It’s his most favorite thing in the world. So, he can’t help the wild smile that takes over his face where it’s pressed against the hard wooden surface.
He knows Vegas sees it when he feels an unforgiving grip on the back of his neck, pressing him further into the table, making it hard to breathe. Pete loves it. “You’re such a desperate little slut.” Vegas growls in his ear, pressed up against his back, his fingers still fucking into his hole, now stretched out and wet with lube. “So fucking eager to get my cock in you, huh?” The pace is brutal, and even if it’s only Vegas’ fingers, they punishingly make contact with Pete’s prostate at every thrust and Pete is so fucking hard he wants to cry.
He tries to say something, turn his head and maybe have Vegas lick into his mouth in the way that makes his head spin. But, just as he goes to move, Vegas strengthens his grip on his neck, thumb pressing into his racing pulse. “Stay. Still.” Vegas grinds out, each word paired with a harsh thrust, almost branding them into his body. Pete can feel his cock profusely leaking precum where it's stuck between the table and his stomach. He’s so painfully hard and he just wants to come. He whines, the sound coming out strangled because of the hand pressed against his neck, but keeps his body lax. He also wants to be a good boy after all.
Vegas keeps fucking him with his fingers for some time, Pete doesn’t know how long it has been and he can’t get himself to think. His mind is a chant of Vegas, Vegas, Vegas, and he knows his mouth is too. The world feels like it’s zeroed in on Vegas and his touches. Pete loves it so much and he hopes Vegas knows he will do anything for the man. Vegas has been biting and marking across his neck and shoulders, the little bursts of pain only making Pete’s hard cock twitch further.
The need to cum is getting stronger each second; the unforgiving thrusts against his prostate, the hand on his neck, and the feeling of Vegas pressing him down on the table and marking him as he pleases. All of it is so intense and if it keeps going any longer he will come. He knows Vegas knows this as well, he knows Pete’s body better than he knows it himself. If Vegas wants to let him orgasm, he will. But it seems like Vegas has other plans because, a moment later, the fingers are out of his hole, leaving it clenching and disappointedly empty. Pete can’t help the whine that escapes him or the way his hips chase Vegas’ fingers to get them back into him. It earns him a harsh slap and squeeze against his ass, and he reluctantly stills. Vegas chuckles, pressing a soft kiss on his neck, right against his pulse.
He pats Pete’s cheek and Pete belatedly realizes he’s not being pressed against the table anymore. He blinks and is surprised to feel tears streaking his face. “Turn around, baby.” Vegas murmurs into his ear, humming at the shiver that passes through Pete. Pete turns slowly, Vegas’ hands right there to assist him until his back is against the table. Thumbs softly wipe at the wetness near his eyes and he looks up at a decreasingly blurry Vegas.
And what a sight he is to behold. Pete never wants to look away. His face is flushed, cheeks tinted the gentlest pink. A few strands of hair stick to his sweaty forehead but the rest are pushed away from his face. His lips are turned to the softest smile, one Pete knows is reserved for him and Macau. The flush of his face extends down to his neck where Pete sees the sheen of sweat building on his collarbones. He wants to taste it, lick it away.
Pete lets his stare shamelessly rake across his torso. His bullet wounds are still healing, some more quicker than others, but they’re all dressed, leaving Pete privy to slivers of Vegas’ skin on his chest and stomach. His eyes move further down to Vegas’ crotch. Vegas is still wearing sweatpants but they do little to hide the way he’s also painfully hard. Pete’s mouth waters and he wants Vegas’ cock in his mouth. He knows Vegas can tell what he’s thinking about because his hand slowly makes its way down to his own crotch, palming it firmly. Pete gulps, eyes meeting Vegas’ as a wicked smirk takes over the other man’s face.
“Do you think you deserve it, pet?” Vegas asks, then groans, throwing his head back a little as he presses harder against his cock. Pete knows he’s teasing him on purpose but he could care less. All he wants is Vegas back on him, touching him, letting him touch him, anything. Pete nods eagerly, eyes blown wide and hungry as they fixate themselves on Vegas’ cock. Vegas laughs, breathless, but proceeds to take off his sweatpants, before falling back on the chair Pete was initially sitting on. He spreads his legs, patting his thigh. “C’mon then, pretty, show me how much you deserve this cock.”
Pete is so eager he almost stumbles as he pushes himself off the table. He drops to his knees right in front of Vegas, the other man’s steady eyes never straying from his face. He takes in the sight of Vegas’ cock, filled out and leaking. A rush of pleasure courses through him when he sees how red and hard Vegas is, that he’s just as affected as Pete. He leans forward, hands gripping Vegas’ thighs, breaths ghosting over his cock, waiting.
Vegas hums in satisfaction, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair, scratching his scalp, petting him. “Good boy.” Pete lights up at the praise, he wants more. Vegas leads his mouth onto his cock with the hand in his hair. Pete swallows willingly, eyes closing as he hums at the familiar taste, salty, musky, and so very Vegas. Vegas doesn’t push him any further down, just rests his grip in Pete’s hair. Pete gets the signal and starts going down on his own. He loves the way Vegas fits into his mouth. He’s big but Pete has learned to accommodate his size.
The first time he’d sucked Vegas off, it was at the hospital. Vegas had done especially well during his physical therapy that day. Pete could tell he was annoyed and hurting and tired, but he’d pushed through, all the while stealing glances at Pete sitting across the room. It had Pete’s heart bursting with affection, but he could also feel the familiar simmering of heat in his gut. It was not uncommon for him to feel horny while he helped Vegas in the hospital but he never acted on it. It wasn’t the time or the place. But seeing him be so good and patient made Pete want to reward him. So, that night after helping Vegas shower and sitting him on the large hospital bed, Pete sank down to his knees. Vegas was surprised but soon he was groaning praises with his fingers nestled in Pete’s hair. Pete had struggled to take all of Vegas in, but if he was anything, it was determined. After that, it was only a matter of practice.
Pete is brought back to the present by fingers tightening their grip in his hair. He hums again, scalp tingling pleasantly. He sucks on Vegas’ cock, one hand stroking the base as he bobs his head up and down. He pulls back slightly, letting his tongue slide against Vegas’ cock on his way up, then goes down again, suckling and licking on the head. Vegas moans, and the sound goes straight to Pete’s cock. He feels fingers caressing his cheek, thumb rubbing under his eye and down to his jaw. His heart stutters at the soft touches and it only makes him suck harder, opening his mouth wider, and he’s finally taking all of Vegas in. His nose brushes against Vegas’ crotch and he loves the way his cock feels in his throat. He pulls back, only to take him back in again. He feels drool slipping past his lips and down his chin.
The hand that was merely resting against his hair now pushes his head back and he stills. He’s pulled off of Vegas’ cock and his head is forced up, his gaze meeting Vegas’. He looks so fucking good, eyes blown wide, pink cheeks and an adoring smirk on his face. “Remember our non-verbal safewords?” Pete has to blink and let his head clear for a moment to let the words register. Once they do, he nods. The grip on his hair tightens, making him gasp. “Words, pet.” Vegas’ voice is so fucking low and steady, Pete doesn’t understand how he stays so put together. He swallows, then says, “Two taps on your leg for yellow, three for red.” His voice is hoarse and he realizes it’s the first time he’s spoken in a while. Vegas smiles, the edges of it soft and admiring but it’s brimming with hunger.
He pushes Pete’s head back on his cock, and Pete only gets a second to adjust before Vegas’ cock is being thrust all the way in. He chokes and gags, eyes tearing up, his hands gripping Vegas’ thighs. Vegas sets up a rough pace, bringing Pete’s head up before sliding it down on his cock again. Pete completely relaxes against his hold, letting Vegas use his mouth as he pleases. “What an obedient little pet I have, so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” Vegas’ voice is breathless, and Pete hums on his cock, making him groan. Pete himself is so hard and his hands itch to touch himself but he wants to be good, wants to be obedient.
So he presses his fingers further into Vegas’ thighs, feeling the muscles twitch under his touch. He hopes they’ll bruise. Vegas gives a particularly harsh thrust, his hips coming up as his hands push Pete’s head down. Pete chokes but relaxes his throat, the slide becomes easy and wet after that. He feels tears falling down his face, and Vegas’ hand that has been holding his face comes up to gently brush the wetness away. Pete’s eyelashes flutter when fingers come to brush under his eyes. He looks up, and catches Vegas looking at him as if adoring a work of art. It makes his cheeks heat up and he looks down. Vegas tuts, making him immediately snap his eyes up. Vegas smirks as he thrusts in hard one last time before pulling Pete off of his cock. A string of saliva keeps Pete connected to Vegas’ cock and he licks his lips.
“Eyes on mine, pet.” Vegas says as he taps on Pete’s shoulder. Pete stands up, slightly wobbly on his feet and his knees ache from being on the floor for so long. Vegas places his hands on his waist to steady him, pulling him closer and settling him down on his lap. Pete goes willingly, thighs on either side of Vegas’ and his feet mostly in contact with the floor. He uses the leverage to grind his ass against Vegas’ cock, the movement subtle enough that it could be mistaken as unintentional. By anyone but Vegas, that is. Vegas huffs out a laugh, one hand on Pete’s face, knuckles softly caressing his cheek and the other gripping his ass. The contrast has Pete’s head spinning.
“Such a good boy, Pete, you’re such a good boy. Took my cock so well. My pet deserves to get fucked, doesn’t he?” Pete could almost cry from the relief because he wants Vegas’ cock so bad. He nods, taking a shaky breath and panting out, “Yes, please. Please, take me. I’m yours to fuck.” The wild glint in Vegas’ eyes tell him he’s said the right words. Firm hands spread open his asscheeks, and Vegas’ cock is nudging against his hole. Vegas presses in and uses his grip on Pete to slowly push his cock into him.
Pete throws his head back and lets out a choked sound as Vegas’ cock breaches him. He controls his urge to sink down further, letting Vegas gradually push him down on his cock. But in the back of his mind he’s aware that Vegas shouldn’t be straining his muscles for too long. Before he can voice his concern, Vegas thrusts up with his hips, making Pete sit fully on his cock. Pete cries out at the sudden fullness, hands wrapping around Vegas’ neck.
“You feel so good, baby. The perfect little hole for me to fuck.” Pete shivers at the words, letting his eyes close. His face is pressed against Vegas’ neck, they are chest to chest and Pete lets himself cherish the feeling of being so full of Vegas, so connected to him in every way he can be. He presses open-mouthed kisses along Vegas’ skin, nipping occasionally, pleased at hitch in Vegas’ breathing every time. They stay like that for a while, both of them relishing the closeness and intimacy of it all.
Eventually, Vegas firms his grip on Pete, lifting his ass until his cock is just at his rim before slamming him down on it. Pete moans, and his cock bobs and leaks shamelessly between their stomachs. He feels Vegas shift slightly and then slam him down on his cock again, and this time, he hits his prostate dead on. Pete cries out and Vegas keeps at it, fucking him at a punishing pace, abusing his prostate.
Pete is trembling, his mouth parted, a litany of Vegas’ name falling out along with shaky moans and cries. His hands are tangled in Vegas’ hair and he is still pressed against his neck. Vegas has one hand still on his ass, maneuvering him to his thrusts, while the other is gripping his waist. Pete feels so safe like this. So loved. Getting fucked so thoroughly that he can feel the imprint of a confession with every thrust. He thinks he can die here if need be.
Soon enough, he hears the change in Vegas’ breathing, and he can tell Vegas is straining himself. His thrusts change in pace just the tiniest bit but Pete catches that as well. He lifts his head up and finds Vegas’ eyes on him. If Pete didn’t know Vegas as well as he does, he’d think nothing was wrong. But the way his brow furrows a little more than usual and the way he keeps his face from grimacing tells Pete enough. He pushes himself upright with gentle hands on Vegas’ chest. Vegas frowns, clearly understanding what Pete is about to say but Pete shuts him up with a kiss. He parts his mouth, humming at the wet slide of their tongues, before pulling back slightly. His lips brush against Vegas’ as he softly whispers, “Let me.”
The prospect of Vegas giving up control was something Pete never thought of initially. He never had to because Vegas was an expert in hiding his vulnerabilities behind his unreachable and arrogant attitude. But getting shot four times doesn’t really leave one with the choice of keeping up that attitude for long. He knew Vegas hated when he was weak in front of Pete. The way his eyes would be glassy as he would snarl at Pete to leave him alone during particularly painful days made Pete’s heart hurt for the man who grew up to think his weaknesses made him a failure.
But Pete never budged, he would only plop down on the other side of the bed, just within reach for Vegas to touch, a book in his hands, pretending to not notice the half-hearted glares Vegas sent his way. Eventually, he would feel the tentative touch of warm fingers on his arm and he would wordlessly offer his hand, feeling fingers intertwine with his own. The two of them would sit there in silence, holding hands, and Pete knew Vegas had so much to say that he couldn’t. But they had all the time in their hands. One of those days, as he was almost dozing off, his book forgotten in his lap, a soft kiss was pressed on his hand, a gentle apology murmured into them. Pete had only smiled as he let the peaceful slumber wash over him.
Now, he pulls back from Vegas after pressing another kiss to his mouth. Vegas looks at him with an inscrutable expression before his face relaxes, the gentlest of smiles gracing his face before he nods. “Go ahead, baby.” Pete smiles back, bracing his hands on Vegas’ shoulder before lifting himself up and dropping down on Vegas’ cock again. He sets up a rhythm and shivers when fingers grip his ass and brush against his stretched rim. He doesn’t know how long he rides Vegas, his thighs burn from the exhaustion but the pleasure coursing through him makes it an insignificant thought. The wet slide of Vegas’ cock filling him is so good he doesn’t think he will ever get tired of it. He grinds down with his hips, clenching his hole when he feels Vegas’ cock deliciously rub against his prostate. Vegas groans above him and pulls Pete down for an open-mouthed and messy kiss. Pete picks up his pace again, his moans swallowed by Vegas’ mouth.
He’s been so close for so long, and he’s been unintentionally holding off from coming, wanting this moment between them to last for as long as he can make it. But he can only stave off an orgasm for so long when he’s riding the hottest man he’s ever come across. “Vegas.” He breathes, increasing the pace of his thrusts, he’s so close, he’s sweating and he can feel a drop go down his chest. His cock is painfully hard between them and he just needs Vegas to make him cum. “What is it, baby?” Even when Vegas is exhausted, he still manages to be infuriating. Pete hates it, he loves it.
He whines at the back of his throat, looks at Vegas pleadingly. “Make me cum, please.” Before he can even get his words all out, Vegas’ hand grips his cock, stroking him hard and fast, just how he likes it. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me. So fucking good. My good boy. All mine.” Pete trembles, and, a moment later, his orgasm hits him so hard his vision blacks out for a moment. He cries out as he spills all over Vegas’ hand and their tummies. The feeling of absolute euphoria feels never-ending and he can tell he’s coming a lot. Once he manages to catch his breath, body slack, he feels Vegas thrusts up into him a few more times and, a second later, a warm sensation fills up his insides. His cock, now spent and flaccid against his skin, gives a weak but valiant twitch.
Mind hazy with post-orgasm pleasure, Pete unthinkingly grinds down on Vegas’ slowly softening cock. He shivers at the feeling of the cum moving inside him and the wet sounds of some of it spilling out. He feels the grip on his waist tighten and Vegas, whose head was previously nestled in Pete’s neck, bites at his shoulder in warning. Pete moves his hips again, and this time Vegas lifts his head up, his eyes pleasure-drunk but sharp around the edges. Before he can comprehend it, Vegas lifts them up from the chair, cock still inside Pete, and sits him on the table. Pete yelps at the sudden movement, and his arms steady around Vegas.
“Vegas, what are-” Pete cuts himself off as he feels Vegas sliding out of him, his eyes automatically moving down to observe the obscene way his hole stretches around Vegas’ cock, as if it was carved out just for Vegas. Vegas detangles himself from Pete and pushes at his shoulder until he’s lying flat down on the table again. He smirks, hands traveling down Pete’s sides before pinching at his hip, making him jolt and his cock twitch.
He maintains eye contact as he grabs Pete’s legs and pushes them to his chest, leaving him completely exposed. Pete lets out a surprised noise, his ears reddening because somehow, after everything they’ve done, being seen by Vegas like this makes him shy. “Hold your legs.” There’s no room for argument so Pete wraps his arms around the back of his knees and holds his legs to his chest, his heart beating uncontrollably and his cheeks flushing when he feels cum leaking out of his hole. Vegas rubs his thumb over the wet hole, pushing it in and then out, smearing the cum on his finger all over his opening. “You’ve made such a mess, pet.” Vegas says, his tone degrading almost as if he’s chiding an actual pet. Pete feels the humiliation flush over him and his traitorous cock starts showing interest.
Pete wants to say something, maybe retaliate. But all thoughts are thrown out the window when he feels the sensation of hot breaths over his hole. He gasps, and cries out when Vegas’ tongue swipes over his puffy rim. Vegas has done this before, licking him out after fucking him thoroughly, but it’s something so dirty and debauched it makes Pete dizzy with pleasure. He’s shaking from the way Vegas is so unhinged as he eats him out. He’s obscene as he fucks his tongue in and out of Pete’s ass, making it a mess of saliva and cum. He pulls out to lick at Pete’s hole and Pete feels blinded by the pleasure of the hot tongue soothing his stretched out rim.
His cock is almost fully hard again and he’s never been like this with anyone before. Pete has had sex, both with men and women before Vegas, but no one makes him feel more unhinged and unbridled with pleasure like Vegas does. He’s panting, moaning, crying out Vegas’ name as Vegas eats him out like he’s his last meal served on a silver platter. He almost pulls away, overwhelmed, when Vegas sucks on his hole, the tingly sensation on his sensitive rim and the fact that Vegas is so eagerly eating out his own cum becoming too much for Pete. Vegas only grumbles, using his grip on Pete’s hip to pull him closer, continuing to eat him out.
“Fuck, Vegas, it’s, it’s too much.” Pete gasps out, the hold on his legs are weakening and he’s shaking all over. Vegas reaches over to take a hold of his cock and Pete curses, the overstimulation making him wince but also making his cock harder. Vegas chuckles, and Pete feels it more than he hears it.
“Seems like you’re enjoying it, pet.”
Pete sobs as Vegas starts to stroke his overly sensitive cock, he tries his best not to squirm and is rewarded by nips and bites on his ass. He doesn’t know how long Vegas continues to eat him out, his thoughts limited to the hot slide of Vegas’ tongue in his hole and his hand on his cock. His orgasm hits him out of nowhere, taking him by surprise as he arches his back and comes hard. Vegas strokes him through it before pressing a soft kiss against his hole and getting up on his feet. Pete has a hand over his eyes as he catches his breath, and he feels a soft kiss pressed against his lips. Warm hands roam around his body, massaging in places that are starting to get sore and are definitely bruised. Kisses are pressed against his thigh and he can feel Vegas muttering something into his skin, but he’s too out of it to understand what his words mean.
Eventually, he looks up blearily at Vegas, who is looking back at him with soft eyes and a warm smile. He smiles back, lifting himself up on the table and leaning close to kiss him. They share soft, slow kisses until Pete can’t avoid the way his cum sticks grossly to his skin. He pushes himself off the table and Vegas’ hands instinctively come to wrap around his waist, pulling them closer to one another. Pete pecks Vegas’ nose, causing him to wrinkle it, making Pete laugh. Vegas’ eyes soften and he presses his lips against Pete’s cheek, kissing his dimple and placing random kisses all over his face. Pete giggles and squirms in his hold, but eventually gives up to the soft torment.
“Are you feeling okay, baby?” Vegas asks quietly, his fingers brushing Pete’s hair out of his forehead. Pete nods, sighing at the gentle touches, letting his brain enjoy this post-sex bliss. “How are you feeling?” Pete asks, his eyes doing a routine scan over Vegas’ wounds and then his face. His fingers come up to brush against the bullet wound on his arm, the one he put on Vegas. He swallows the guilt that comes with it every time, but he knows Vegas knows what he thinks of every time his hands brush over the injury. Vegas sighs, almost fondly, before bringing Pete's face to his and kissing him. “I’m okay, baby. Let’s go set up a bath, yeah? Let me take care of you.” Pete’s heart feels so full and he nods.
They settle in the bathroom in warm, comfortable silence. Vegas can’t go in the bath because he’d just gotten his wounds redressed this morning so he sits at the edge of the bathtub, wearing a large bathrobe. It’s so big and fluffy it kind of swallows him up and Pete finds it adorable. He’d insisted on cleaning Vegas with a warm towel before getting into the bath and Vegas had let him with a fond roll of eyes.
Pete sighs, his sore body loving the warm water as soft fingers brush his hair out of his eyes. Vegas uses a towel to gently clean Pete’s torso of cum and sweat. He throws the towel to the side, his hands wandering around Pete’s body, massaging at places that feel tense. Pete's seen every side of Vegas, and yet each of them enamor him even more. This Vegas, soft and domestic, all bunched up and focused solely on taking care of Pete, it makes him so happy. Amongst all the chaos and destruction of their regular days, Pete wants Vegas to have this peaceful, indulging side to his life, something more normal. Pete will make sure that he does.
“What are you thinking about?” Vegas asks as his hands gently touch Pete’s face. Pete closes his eyes and then opens them again. “You. Us.” Vegas makes a sound that tells Pete to continue and Pete lets out a sigh, melting further into Vegas’ touch. “I’m glad it’s you I’m here with.” Pete does not wax poetic because he knows he doesn’t need to. Vegas gets him as much as he gets Vegas, and he can tell by the way Vegas’ eyes get blurry and he turns his head away that he knows exactly how Pete feels. Vegas clears his throat and Pete is amused by the way he acts like a shy teenager about to confess to his first crush.
“Me too. I want it to be you. Always.”
There’s a certain undertone to it that Pete doesn’t miss. Vegas struggles to express just how much he wants Pete to be here, with him, because he wants to give Pete a choice. He’d stated from the first time they’d actually talked at the hospital that Pete was always free to leave. If only he knew Pete can clearly see the fear in his eyes every time he says those words, or that Pete plans to stay with him until they take their last breaths. Vegas doesn’t realize Pete needs him just as much as he needs Pete. It’s something they’re working on, Pete never says it outright but he finds ways to assure Vegas through hidden words and actions. And he will keep on doing so until he sees the recognition on Vegas' face that Pete is staying, here, with him, always. After all, this is where he belongs.