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“I love you, Pete.”
With the harshness of the cold concrete biting into legs, surrounded by blood and lifeless bodies, hearing those words from Vegas felt like a calling of cataclysm and revival. A piece of him wanted to carve those words deep into his veins, have them flow through every inch of his body. It wanted to imprint those words into his heart to match the whispers of his own, both confessions beating in harmonious tandem inside him. His heart threatened to escape him with how loudly it roared, in pleasure, in joy, in love . Hearing Vegas, seeing Vegas say he loved him felt like the only prayer he needed to guide him through life. It felt like finally being graced with the ability to breathe after being underwater his whole life.
Vegas’ smile was so, so tender. He looked at Pete as if Pete had hung the moon and stars for him, like he held every reason for Vegas to live. It had Pete’s mind reeling in the best and worst of ways. The contrast of his soft smile with the blood pooling in his mouth, the gleam in his eyes, the utter devotion he openly displayed for Pete to see, all of it had Pete breathless.
Then, the taste of iron flooded his mouth as Vegas brought him down for a kiss so gentle, so reverent, it felt like the engraving of another confession onto his trembling lips.
It was so wonderful, so painful.
When Vegas pushed him off, he couldn’t help but momentarily lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling so dazed, confused, hurt, happy, loved. At that moment, Pete knew. He knew that this man, whose blood stained his lips, whose eyes held the world, whose words echoed in his chest, held the ability to wholly ruin and salvage him. And Pete could only follow his heart.
But love, it can be an ugly creature when kept unleashed, untamed.
Pete has never loved anyone before Vegas, probably hasn’t even remotely felt as much as he does for Vegas. For someone who had to remain as unseen as Pete had, blended into the background, inconspicuous with an iron grip on his feelings, the suddenness and freedom of these surging emotions often leave him spiraling in the shackles of his own mind. The overwhelming grip that fear has on him at times like this is bruising, unmoving.
Loving Vegas feels like the loveliest high Pete has ever experienced. Being with Vegas rids him off the anxieties he wishes he never had, mellows his mind to a place where it’s only him and Vegas. Him and his Vegas against the world. But, he can’t help it when his mind decides to plummet from that glorious high to a place so dark, isolating, distant.
Flashes of the past keep haunting him. The muffled noises of screaming, crying, fighting. A little boy crouched by his bed, hands to his ears but not pressing on them fully, willing himself not to listen but not being able to shut it out. The fear and anxiety made his hands and feet cold, made them shake, flooded his eyes with tears. He had been too little to understand.
His mother had also been in love. He had witnessed how that love destroyed her piece by piece. She let the man she loved rip away at her being until there was nothing left to give. Love could be marvelous, but love could also be the muffled whimpers of his mother as she dressed her wounds in the bathroom at night.
Love could be magical, but it could also be the scar above his eyebrow etched by a shard of a beer bottle.
Love could be heaven, but it could also be the echoes of drunken screams, every slap, every punch digging the words deep into his mind.
Unworthy, undeserving, unlovable.
Love could be everything Pete wanted, but it could also be everything he dreaded.
Loving Vegas feels like the antithesis of everything Pete grew up knowing about love. It’s endless, unbridled, blazing, kind, genuine. But what will he do if it eventually isn’t like that anymore? Where will he go if Vegas ultimately decides he isn’t worth his time? How will he live if Vegas doesn’t love him anymore?
He wishes he wasn’t this weak, fragile, when it came to love. He wishes he could be stronger for Vegas. A man like him, a man who loves so unbounded and fearlessly, someone who is so capable and wonderful even after having the world crash on his shoulders, a man who deserves infinitely better.
The thoughts eat him up from the inside out and he wipes at the tears beginning to slide down his cheeks again. His eyes sting from the amount of times he’s cried today. He doesn’t cry often, he’s learned to stop his emotions from showing on his face a long time ago. But, today, with Vegas away for almost the entirety of the day, Pete doesn’t restrain himself. The physical loneliness only took a few hours to morph into a harrowing mental state Pete can’t get himself out of. He hates it. He hates himself for it.
It’s past midnight and only a few hours since Pete has holed himself in bed that he hears Vegas enter their apartment, trying to be as quiet as he can, probably assuming Pete is asleep. It’s one of the rare times Vegas is out for work, helping Porsche secure a deal with an old client of the minor family.
Pete takes a deep breath, trying and failing to get his mind out of the pit it’s burrowed itself in. Warm light floods into the dark room as Vegas slowly opens their bedroom door, quietly closing it behind him. Pete’s faced away from the door, cocooned in his side of the bed, and he wills himself not to show any signs of being awake. He hears Vegas moving about the room and bathroom, following his usual bedtime routine. Pete wishes he could get up and give him a hug, nuzzle into his warm embrace, take in his comforting scent and presence. Instead, he feels more silent tears escape his eyes. He feels pathetic.
Eventually, the bed dips on the other side and Vegas slides under the covers, scooting closer to Pete. He feels a soft kiss placed on the back of his neck as an arm slides around his waist, and legs tangle with his.
“Hi, baby.”
The words whispered into his neck are so gentle and loving, Pete doesn’t know how he manages to control his breathing as the tears run down his cheeks.
Undeserving.
He could have so much better.
Hands dip under his shirt and gently trace his stomach, almost playful.
“You know I can tell you’re awake. You’re not fooling me, pretty.”
I’m not, I’m not. Can’t you see how ugly I am? Can’t you see how ugly my love is?
“Pete?”
Vegas’ voice sounds worried now, and Pete squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what to say, how to face this. He’s brought it on himself.
If only he weren’t so broken, so affected by his own demons. If only he knew how to keep them at bay so he could enjoy the love of the man who would do anything for him. If only he could get his ugly mind to believe that.
He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking, openly sobbing until Vegas firmly turns him around. Even in the blurry darkness, Pete can see the clear concern, hinted with fear, in the man’s expression.
“Fuck, Pete. What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He can’t get himself to say anything but he shakes his head.
Warm hands touch his cheeks, gently wiping at his tears, but he can feel the fingers trembling. There’s a light touch on his forehead and from the warm breaths washing over his face, he can tell Vegas is resting his forehead against his own. He can’t open his eyes, can’t get himself to look Vegas in the eye.
“Then, tell me what’s wrong, baby. Please.”
Vegas sounds so tender but Pete can hear the fear and desperation between his words.
“I’m sorry.” Pete manages between sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry for scaring you.
I’m sorry you’re seeing me like this.
I’m sorry for being like this.
Vegas is quiet for a few seconds, but his fingers continue to caress Pete’s face.
“What are you sorry for, baby? There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”
There is. There’s so much. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Pete hates himself for not being able to say anything either. He knows Vegas is getting more scared with each passing second. He’s never seen Pete like this. Pete has never been like this in front of anyone. At least, it’s Vegas. He wouldn’t want it to be anyone but Vegas.
They stay like that for sometime. Pete sobs and sobs, while Vegas just holds him in his arms. Eventually, Pete gets himself under some semblance of control. He’s not crying anymore but his breaths stutter as he tries to get his breathing to be normal again. Vegas doesn’t say anything throughout it all, one of his hands holding Pete’s head to his chest while the other wraps around his waist, tracing random shapes on his back. Pete lets himself have this. He lets himself bask in the comfort and warmth Vegas offers, burying his face in Vegas' neck and breathing him in.
He’s so tired and scared. And holding onto Vegas like this, letting his presence engulf him like this, allows him to fall into the pretense of keeping his anxieties at bay. At least for a while. For the first time since his mind started spiraling, he feels slightly at ease.
“Pete, baby, can you look at me?”
It’s such a simple question, but both him and Vegas know it holds more than it lets on. It’s asking for permission to see the other, to look into the other’s eyes and, in turn, into their heart. It’s an invitation to bare open one’s heart and let the other see every nook and cranny, however ugly it may be. They’ve done this before. Pete has done this before when Vegas locks himself in their room, screaming, breaking, spiraling. Pete doesn’t know why he’s so afraid of Vegas doing the same for him.
He hesitates for a while, pressing himself closer to Vegas’ chest. Vegas waits. Always so patient, always his rock.
Eventually, he lifts his head up and Vegas is already looking at him. In the darkness, there’s not much he can see of Vegas except for the compelling way his eyes gleam, the way they hold so many emotions, the way they are brimmed with such adoration.
“There you are. My baby.”
Vegas thumbs at his tears again, then presses small kisses across his face, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. He’s slow, gentle, and Pete sighs shakily, closing his eyes, letting himself enjoy this. Vegas’ lips linger on his before he moves away, but still close enough that Pete can feel his breaths on his wet skin.
“What happened? Can you tell me? Please?”
Pete stiffens in his hold, and he feels Vegas slightly tighten his grip around him. The firmness is somewhat comforting, grounding. But Pete hasn’t ever voiced these inner thoughts, hasn’t brought out these ugly facades for anyone to see. He doesn’t want Vegas to think he’s weak, broken, not able to move away from his past. He doesn’t want to lie either. Not to Vegas.
“Hey, baby, it’s just me, yeah? You can tell me anything, anything at all.”
Vegas always reads him like a book, every movement, every muscle, every hesitation, every fear. He’s never been able to hide from Vegas when Vegas looks at him the way he does, which is why he’s always been afraid of having this side of him in front of the man, pathetically concealed. But, Vegas is right. It’s Vegas. The love of his life. The only one who sees him for who he truly is. The one who shares his demons, his desires, his pain.
Pete takes a deep breath and realizes if he has to tell this, he’d want it to be no one but Vegas.
“You know how I told you about my dad?”
Vegas nods, eyes becoming more focused and attentive, trying to hide the shade of concern flooded in them. Pete buries his head back into Vegas’ chest, letting his arms wrap around his waist. Vegas doesn’t say anything, only holds him tighter and waits.
“My dad used to hit my mom like he hit me, before she died. He-” Pete takes a deep breath, willing his voice to stay steady. “He killed her.”
Vegas freezes for a split second, but goes back to caressing Pete, but Pete can feel the line of tension in his body.
“He got too drunk one day and hit her too hard. She bled out right there on the floor. He told everyone she hit her head falling down the stairs. I was too young to realize or even think that he would kill her.”
“Fuck. Fuck, Pete. I’m so sorry.”
Pete can hear the sadness in his voice, the way it resonates to Vegas’ own pain, his memories. He closes his eyes and strengthens himself for the next part.
“A large part of the reason why he could even get to the point of killing her is because she never left. She was bruised, beaten, crying but she never thought of leaving him. I hated her for it.” Pete feels the tears well up. “I hated her so much because she was letting her love ruin her like that. She was letting it kill her every single day.”
Pete feels himself shaking, tears falling down his cheeks and wetting Vegas’ shirt. Vegas lets him cry his heart out, a hand tangled in his hair and the other rubbing soothingly down his back. He feels a warm press of lips on his forehead, steady and comforting. He takes in a shaky, wet breath.
“After she died, I never thought about love. It felt like something I was never meant to have. It never felt right to me. Until you.”
Pete pushes himself away from Vegas’ hold to look at him. He needs this.
“You give me so much love, it feels like a dream. It feels like everything I secretly hoped love would be but never dared to imagine. It’s so good, you’re so good.”
Vegas gives him the softest of smiles, and Pete can’t help but return it before it fades.
“But it also scares me. It scares me so much. I have never known love the way you give it to me and I’m terrified I’ll lose it all one day. I don’t know how I’ll survive if I ever have to lose your love, lose you. And this fear debilitates me, I feel like it eats me from the inside out. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do, Vegas.”
Vegas stares at him for a moment, his eyes searching, widened in disbelief, glistening with pain. Then, slowly, so, so slowly, he cups Pete’s face, as if Pete might break any moment, and brings it closer to his. His eyes are intently gazing at him, as if he needs Pete to hear the words he’s about to say.
“I have never loved anyone before you, Pete. Ever. I don’t know what normal love is supposed to be like. But what I feel for you, the way I feel for you, it’s my love. For you. You’re my everything, you know that, baby? I can’t go a day without you, without looking at you, without holding you. Today was absolutely horrible, by the way.” Vegas pouts slightly at the last part and Pete’s heart melts more into his chest. “If the way I feel for you isn’t love, I don’t want to know what others think love is. All I know is my love is meant for you, only for you. You own it. It’s yours to keep, yours to take, yours to break. It isn’t something that can be taken away because it’s all yours to begin with.”
Pete lets the words sink into his brain, lets them tame the ugly beasts roaring inside, lets them placate the anxieties that have made a home there. He lets his eyes wander Vegas’ face, lets himself bask in the knowledge that this man, this glorious being of a man, is entirely his. He brings his hand up to the nape of Vegas’ neck and pulls him into a kiss, and decides to let go of the fears tugging his mind apart for now, lets them retire into the depths of his brain, stored away. He lets himself live in the moment, in this moment where Vegas is his, promises to be his for life, where he fearlessly devotes himself to Vegas for eternity.
Vegas kisses him back like it’s the only thing he’s meant to do in this lifetime. His lips move in harmony along his own; passion, devotion, love , all of it conveyed without words. His thumb rubs at Pete’s cheek, soft but steady, comforting but firm. Pete presses himself closer, tilts his head and opens his mouth, reveling in the sensation of their tongues moving against each other. Vegas tastes so sweet, minty with a distant hint of tobacco. It tastes like Vegas. It tastes like love.
Vegas hums into his mouth and eventually maneuvers him flat down on the bed, straddling his legs. His hands move up and down his sides, eventually lifting his shirt up slightly as they place themselves on his waist. The touches send a shiver up Pete’s body, making him wrap his hands around Vegas’ neck and bringing him impossibly closer to himself. He needs every inch of Vegas against every inch of his own skin. The need burns in his gut, fueled by the intense emotions in the air surrounding him, suffocating him so sweetly.
“Vegas, need you.” Pete pulls apart just enough to say before he’s back to kissing him again, groaning when Vegas bites at his bottom lip before soothing it with gentle sucks.
“You have me, baby. I’ve got you.” Vegas sounds as breathless and desperate as Pete feels. He presses hot, wet kisses down his throat, licking against Pete’s thundering pulse before sucking a bruise over it. Pete keens at the throb of pain that zings down his body. Every sensation feels more heightened than usual, every touch feels more electric, more alive. He cants his hips up, letting his half-hard crotch brush against Vegas, needing to feel him.
Vegas’ breath hitches slightly where he’s got his mouth on Pete’s neck and his grip on Pete’s waist tightens, holding him down and aligning their crotches together. They’re both almost fully hard by now. Pete gasps, his hands tangled in Vegas’ hair, letting the pleasure overtake him as their crotches grind together. He tugs at Vegas’ hair and when Vegas looks up, he tilts his head up, eyes not holding back a single ounce of want and vulnerability he feels in himself right now. Vegas looks at him for a moment, and all of the adoration held in his eyes is relayed into his kiss as he gets his mouth back on Pete.
Pete whines into Vegas’ mouth when the pressure on his cock gets too much to bear. He starts squirming, but then Vegas’ hands are moving down to his hips and his grip is bruising as he holds Pete down again. Pete gasps at the pain and it does nothing to relieve the pressure building in his crotch. Vegas breaks the kiss and his eyes are on him again.
“Vegas.”
“What do you need, pet? Do you want to tell me?”
Pet.
The name hits different when he’s spent the entire day emotionally drained and contemplating his place in Vegas’ life, in his love.
He lets out a soft moan, and Vegas gazes at him, fond and amused.
“It seems like my pet has forgotten who he belongs to. Do I have to show him just how every inch of him belongs to me, and me only, hm?”
Pete feels out of breath just from his words and he nods eagerly.
“Can you use your words, baby?”
Pete closes his eyes shut and then opens them again, then nods.
“Show me, Vegas. Love me. Please .”
His words are unbridled, unabashed. He bares out his desires, his demons, his vulnerabilities, all for Vegas’ eyes. He’s been hiding them in a dark corner of his mind, ashamed and scared for anyone to take a peek. But, for Vegas, he bares it all. He knows it’s in safe hands. They are two souls made of the same threading, made from the same hunger and fear for love.
Vegas’ eyes hold so much reverence that Pete knows he will never regret showing himself like this to Vegas. Never him.
Soon, they’re both naked, hands all over each other, moans and gasps flowing in the air along with their heavy breaths. Vegas has three fingers in Pete already, and Pete feels the slick of the lube trickling down his asscheeks. He rocks his hips against Vegas’ fingers, he wants them deeper in him. He wants Vegas to drain out all his blood and build himself a home in his body to give him life instead.
“My pet’s so lovely when he’s desperate like this. So fucking beautiful.”
Pete flushes at the words, lets them wash over him like a gust of cool air on overheated skin.
“Please, Vegas. Want you inside me. Want to feel you.”
Vegas’ own movements stutter at the sheer desperation in Pete’s voice and Pete revels in it.
“I’ve got you, pet. Such a good boy. My good boy.”
Pete moans against Vegas’ mouth as Vegas slides into him. The familiarity of his movements, the way Vegas’ cock slides in like it’s meant to be in Pete, the way they fit together like pieces of a puzzle left unsolved for too long, all of it has Pete’s head spinning with emotions. Sex with Vegas is always good, amazing, but tonight it feels liberating, devoting, like a prayer being sung into his ear. It feels like love.
When he’s close, almost about to tumble across the edge, Vegas leans down, places his lips right against his ear, breathless and tender.
“You’re my love. I love you, Pete.”
Pete’s vision blacks out as he comes harder than he ever has before, gasping, writhing, crying. Vegas follows soon after, and doesn’t pull out even as he goes soft. He pulls Pete into his arms, steady hands softly caressing him, low murmurs against his skin of words he burns into his mind, and a warm silence overtaking his body.
He feels so loved.