Chapter Text
He really needs to do a better job of listening to his instincts, Pete thinks.
“Looking for something?” Vegas asks. His voice is low and silky, lips curving a bit in amusement as he tilts his head, studying Pete.
The corridor is quiet, too quiet - it’s just the two of them, and everyone else has likely gone to bed hours ago. Pete has no reason to be out of bed at all, let alone sneaking around like this. Fuck, spying has never been his strong suit, he'd known this was a bad idea -
A way into your pants, he thinks, then wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.
Part of the problem is that he’s not doing much thinking at all at the moment, panicking - incredibly distracted, considering what Vegas is wearing, the expanse of skin exposed that seems to call Pete’s gaze like a magnet - but not just that, the expression on his face, the fact that he’s a mere foot away and yet somehow seems like he’s even closer. What is wrong with him? He's been around Vegas for literal years, but never in a situation quite like this one, where Vegas looks like he's just rolled out of bed and the two of them are completely alone, at night, in the dark -
There’s something wrong, though - it drags Pete out of the tumult of his thoughts, instincts suddenly screaming at him to pay attention.
Vegas has straightened suddenly, gaze locked on Pete’s, and -
Oh, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did he - Had he actually just said that out loud? Fuck.
“Uh - good night, Khun Vegas!” he stammers, already turning away as he speaks, hasty and panicked. Wondering ‘what the ever loving fuck was that, Pete’. A possible death wish?
Subconsciously admitting the truth?
Shut up, he tells himself, but then freezes as he hears movement behind him, followed by the touch of a hand on his shoulder.
Not a light touch - oh, no.
A demanding one, grasping his shoulder and spinning him back around so that he’s staring at Vegas.
Vegas, who is now standing about as close as possible to him, and where there had been bored amusement on his face before, now there’s a dark interest - an intrigued expression that reminds Pete a little of a predator suddenly spotting its prey.
“Kh-Khun Vegas, I - I just need to find my rooms,” Pete manages, though he wants to wince at how pathetic he sounds, how his voice is breathless, a higher pitch than normal. “I got lost - “
Vegas seems to take it all in, because his lips are curving slowly, eyes dark as they drop to Pete’s lips, then lower to trace down over the length of his body, and then up again. Pete’s never thought that it could be possible to feel a look, but somehow he feels this one, as though Vegas is stripping him with his gaze alone.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing your rooms tonight, Pete,” he replies, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that has the hair on the back of Pete’s neck standing up, his heart suddenly feeling as though it’s going to pound right out of his chest.
“Um - “ Fuck, he’s not even coherently speaking, now, and the feeling of Vegas’ hand closing around his wrist doesn’t help matters, fingers hot and sure and demanding.
It feels a bit as though the choice is being taken away from him, because now Pete’s being hauled along the corridor behind Vegas, vaguely noticing that he can smell cologne and cigars, the scents wafting from the other man’s robe as he walks.
There's a soft creak as Vegas pulls a door open to drag Pete inside, and the next thing he knows he’s pinned up against a wall.
Fuck. Is he - he is. He’s in Vegas’ rooms. Alone. With Vegas. Vegas, who has him pinned up against a wall.
Pete’s thoughts don’t seem to be working properly at all, not coherent or anything approaching intelligent, but he’s just opening his mouth to make a valiant effort at speaking anyway when that’s taken away from him as well, because Vegas is leaning in to kiss him.
It feels a bit like Pete’s brain takes a sudden vacation for a moment, because conscious, practical, wary thought seems to immediately disappear.
The kiss is demanding, forceful enough to make Pete wonder if his lips are going to bruise, if they’re going to bleed with the pressure that Vegas is applying. Somehow it’s still seductive, though, because Vegas’ mouth is incredibly hot and Pete feels like his head is swimming, his fingers curling ineffectually against the wall where he’s trying to brace himself, as though he has any chance at all of getting away when Vegas is holding him there.
The kiss ends when Vegas draws back, and in the next moment he’s up next to Pete’s ear, chuckling softly. “I’m intrigued, Pete. I thought that had to be about the dumbest excuse to get into my bedroom to poke around that I’ve ever heard, but maybe you were being more honest than you realized.”
“Um - “ Pete starts to stammer a reply, but it doesn’t matter, because Vegas is back and kissing him again, and now his hands are busy, too, tugging up Pete’s shirt while his hands slip beneath to explore, nails raking over his skin, fingers tweaking sharply at his nipples. It makes Pete gasp, and Vegas swallows it, kissing Pete even harder before he draws back, teeth latching on and tugging at Pete’s lower lip as he does so.
The feeling of it makes a shiver race down the entire length of Pete’s spine, creates a jolt that goes right to his cock, and he gasps for breath, wetting his lips before he swallows. He’s just staring at Vegas, now, distantly aware that the other man has succeeded in getting his shirt off, that he’s looking Pete over with blatant, greedy approval.
“If I had my way, I’d have all of you wearing much, much different uniforms,” Vegas murmurs, and there’s a dark light in his eyes as he looks at Pete, gaze hypnotic enough that Pete finds himself unable to look away, like he’s being pulled in, drowning under the weight and heat of it.
“Different uniforms?” he ends up asking. Fuck, he shouldn’t be asking, he should be leaving, but he’s still not moving, rooted to the spot.
“Shall I show you?” Vegas asks lazily, lips curving. The words sound like they’re coming from far away, and Pete’s still trying to make sense of them when Vegas lifts his hand and wraps it around Pete’s neck.
The feeling is enough to make him freeze, and he can hear himself dragging in a trembling breath, words not coming to him as he just stares at Vegas. The other man is smiling, now, and as he holds Pete’s gaze he tightens his hand a little - just lightly, but it’s enough to make Pete shudder convulsively, his knees suddenly threatening to give out on him. It makes no sense at all, but having Vegas’ hand there is doing something to him, something that has him feeling too hot, fluttery, like he could float away. He’s excruciatingly conscious of just the position that Vegas has his hand in, how it’s right there beneath his chin, fingers keeping his head tilted up, his neck stretched and vulnerable.
Vegas is still just watching him, those eyes fixed on his, but Pete’s vaguely aware that his smile has grown, darkened, and there’s something about that smile that entrances and terrifies Pete at the same time.
“Pete, Pete,” Vegas says softly, and his voice is low and filled with a strange, dark heat that makes Pete instantly aware of sweat prickling to the surface of his skin, goosebumps rising as he shivers. “How have you been hiding in plain view all this time, hm? Come along. I have something to show you.”
Suddenly the hand at his throat is gone, and Pete drags in a deep breath, shaky and overwhelmed and feeling a strange sort of sense of loss, but also noticing that it's as though the world has gone a bit fuzzy around the edges. There’s the vague thought that he should be trying to leave, should be trying to call Kinn - but his phone’s disappeared at some point, undoubtedly tucked away somewhere safe by Vegas without him even noticing.
He’s being moved, too - it’s an abrupt realization for Pete, as he registers that there’s a lean, commanding body up against his back, hands gripping his hips as he’s guided and shoved across the room. Fuck, it’s like Vegas has somehow turned off his brain, because all of Pete’s training and instincts seem to have gone out the window.
Once they get close enough their destination is clear, and Pete has to work hard to even attempt to breathe normally as he looks into the mirror, seeing their reflections in the low light of the bedroom.
Vegas is still wearing the same robe, and Pete can't help staring at the other man’s chest at first, eyes following the planes and shadows over smooth, tempting skin. Vegas seems to be allowing it, and so Pete takes advantage, lingering right up until the moment a hand slips underneath his chin and guides it up, forcing him to look straight ahead. It makes everything else fade away, and all he can focus on is the sight of himself in front of Vegas - bare chested, with Vegas smiling slowly at him in the mirror, hand on Pete’s throat to hold his chin in place. The sight alone is enough to make Pete’s mouth go dry, eyes locked on Vegas.
“Good. Watch your reflection, now, pet,” Vegas orders lazily, and his voice is silken and hypnotic enough that Pete finds himself nodding, still rooted to the spot again even though something inside his head is screaming at him to leave even as he stays, just watching what Vegas is doing, how he’s reaching for a box, opening it -
Vegas is lifting something out of it, now, then sliding it around Pete’s neck, knuckles light where they brush against his collarbones, the sensitive hollows above them. The object is warm and malleable and seems to settle in place as though it was made to fit there, and it feels a bit as though the world drops away as Pete stares at his reflection, at the leather choker that Vegas has just put in place around his neck.
“Very nice,” Vegas says, and his voice is a low purr against Pete’s ear. It makes his head swim, and then suddenly his legs are giving out, leaving him swaying a little as he abruptly finds himself sinking down to his knees in front of Vegas.
For a moment the room is silent other than the sound of their breathing, and Pete hears a soft intake of breath before a hand comes to rest on his head, fingers curling into his hair to tug his head back. Pete’s eyes don’t even want to focus, but somehow they do, locking on Vegas’ face, and he ends up just staring up at the other man, hazy and distantly aware of being more aroused than he would have ever thought possible.
“Oh, Pete, you are a special one, aren’t you,” he hears, and Pete surprises himself by shivering, a low, eager sound escaping him at the thought of that, at the thought of being special.
There’s quiet followed by a low chuckle before he feels something teasing along his lower lip, stroking - dipping into his mouth when he instinctively opens it, somehow knowing that’s what’s expected.
“Suck,” he hears, and he briefly hesitates, the tiniest flicker of doubt creeping in. He only has a moment, though, because almost immediately his lip is being pinched harshly, fingernails digging in viciously and making him whimper before he hears the word being repeated. “Suck, Pete.”
The command in the words seems inescapable, and Pete takes a shaky breath before obeying, lips closing around the thumb that’s now back in his mouth as he sucks tentatively, gaze instinctively going back up to the man standing over him.
Vegas has his gaze fixed on Pete’s face, his eyes dark, and as they look at each other he smiles lazily. “Good boy,” he says, and the words are low, silky with approval.
It feels like Pete’s entire body jerks in response, and he hears himself gasp around the thumb in his mouth, a strange, shivery heat rippling through his body. This is all still strange and overwhelming and there’s the faint voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn’t be here, that this is very dangerous, but all he seems to be able to think about is that he wants to be called that again, told that he’s good.
It feels like the thumb in his mouth pushes in even deeper in response - far enough back that it tests his gag reflex before Vegas is drawing his hand away, wiping it off. Pete sways a little, swallowing as he tries to get his bearings, distantly aware that there’s the thought that he should be leaving, should be -
The train of thought disappears, because Vegas is opening his robe and he’s naked underneath, and suddenly there’s a cock in Pete’s face.
“Here we go. Why don’t you try your hand at this, hm? Since you’re already such a good pet, so eager for it?”
The words seem to float down to Pete as though through a long tunnel, and he swallows again. Then the hand is back in his hair, tugging his head back, and a moment later Pete is staring into Vegas’ eyes, dark and commanding without a single word being spoken.
He opens his mouth, and shudders in satisfaction when he hears the words float down to him again - ‘good boy’.
He’s never done this before, never sucked a cock, never gotten that far in spite of his idiotic remark before - but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter. Vegas’ hands are tight in his hair, guiding him, his cock thick and heavy with musk against Pete’s tongue, and Pete finds himself sucking eagerly, following the guidance from the hands in his hair - the tiny yanks to pull his head in the right direction, the way they tighten when he’s found the right spot.
At first he’s the one doing most of the work, but eventually Vegas starts to move, pushing his cock deeper into Pete’s mouth, and Pete feels his head swim a little, distantly aware that his arousal is only kicking up a notch, that he’s harder than he would have thought possible just from doing this, from sucking someone else’s cock.
Vegas seems to somehow know, too, because he tightens his hands on Pete’s head, guiding him to find just the right angle as he starts to thrust faster and faster, going deeper and deeper on each stroke. It’s making Pete gag a little on some thrusts, now, and he can’t help spluttering, feels a couple of tears escaping to trickle down his cheeks - but Vegas seems to just work with it, slowing down just that little bit to let him catch his breath before he’s back again, fucking Pete’s mouth in earnest now.
It feels like he doesn’t even have any control over it anymore, like Vegas is just using his mouth, and when the thought crosses Pete’s mind he can't help the sound that he makes, a high pitched little whimper as his body quivers.
“What are you thinking about, huh, Pete? About how much you love this, love being on your knees with a cock in your mouth?” Vegas’ voice is hoarse, a little ragged, and somehow Pete knows that this is good, this means that Vegas is enjoying himself, about to come. He can’t even argue with what Vegas said, either, because it feels a bit like Vegas can read his mind at the moment, like he knows exactly what Pete is thinking and feeling.
That makes him shudder all over again, and he’s not even surprised when he feels a hand slip to the back of his head to push him down further, until he’s struggling for breath around just how deep Vegas’ cock is inside his mouth, edging into his throat.
It goes on long enough that a hint of panic creeps in as he fights to breathe, for air, and that’s when Vegas pulls back a little, but only just long enough that Pete can gasp for breath - he thrusts back in again almost immediately, and it continues like that until Pete feels himself haze over somehow, just going pliant and open as Vegas moves him as he wishes.
It feels like it goes on forever, but eventually Vegas draws back, telling Pete to keep his mouth open and so he does, blinking up in the dim light of the room as he feels wet fluid hitting his nose, his cheeks, his lips and tongue.
Pete licks his lips instinctively at the feeling, and when he focuses again he sees Vegas looking down at him, eyes pinning him on the spot. He looks darkly satisfied, and Pete feels a ripple of heat go through him as that thought floats in, settles into the haziness that his brain has gone into. Vegas is satisfied because of him, and he likes that idea, really likes it.
Suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, jerking him up to his feet, and Pete yelps, eyes watering a little in response to the pain, the rough movements. Vegas is moving him now, pushing and prodding him over to the bed, and as soon as he’s there his hands are on the waistband of Pete’s sweatpants, yanking them down and off to leave him fully naked and exposed under Vegas’ gaze.
The next thing Pete knows, Vegas is on top of him, holding him down as he bends to kiss him, and Pete hears himself whimper, the sound surprised and a little strangled with the awareness that he’s still covered in come, though Vegas doesn’t seem to care. Vegas laughs, and now his fingers are at Pete’s neck, light as they dance along the edge of the choker.
“This looks good on you, Pete,” he murmurs lazily before he bends, mouth hot and demanding as he nips sharply, worrying and sucking his way along the same path his fingers just followed on Pete’s neck. “You’re just meant for this, aren’t you?”
He draws back after that, manhandling Pete around so that he’s kneeling, and Pete tries to catch his breath, head reeling a little as he finds himself looking around, taking in what’s in the room. It feels like there’s too much to look at, too much that makes him fascinated, and he’s caught off guard when Vegas’ hand suddenly wraps around his cock, the feeling drawing a low mewling sound from him.
“That‘s a good pet,” Vegas purrs again, chuckling, and his voice is against Pete’s ear again, his lips and teeth finding the angle of Pete’s throat while he keeps stroking him, matching the urgent, instinctive thrusts into his hand that Pete can’t seem to help because it just feels so good, he’s so close -
Except Vegas is drawing away, and Pete can’t help the moan that escapes, desperate and a bit pleading as he tries to turn to look at what Vegas is doing.
“Eyes forward,” Vegas says instantly, and his hand is moving at the same time, descending on Pete’s ass with a smack that’s hard enough to make him freeze, a whimper escaping him at the message in the action, at the bright flare of sensation that stings and just winds him up more.
So he fixes his eyes forward, vaguely aware that he’s trembling, that something keeps telling him that he should be moving, trying to leave, but that seems to be something he’s just not capable of. Instead he stays where he is, straining to hear the next word that Vegas might say, anticipating what he might do.
It seems like an eternity goes by, but finally Vegas is back, one arm sliding around Pete’s waist, and he’s just starting to lean into that and relax when he feels it. Something sliding onto his cock, guided by Vegas’ fingers - it makes Pete tense up, a gasp of surprise escaping him. A ring. Vegas has put a fucking ring on him. The idea is weird and humiliating but somehow he’s even harder, hips jerking a little to thrust into Vegas’ hand in response.
Vegas laughs quietly before bending down, his mouth on the curve of Pete’s neck again, sucking hot and lazy until he’s shuddering and the skin feels swollen and sensitive as Vegas lets his tongue tease over it before nipping sharply. “This will give me more time to play,” he says on a chuckle, and Pete hears himself panting, a sound approaching a whimper escaping him. “Otherwise I have a feeling you’d be coming before I got to enjoy myself.”
Before he got to enjoy himself. The words make Pete moan breathlessly, and when Vegas closes a hand around him to stroke lazily he can’t help thrusting into it again, hips lifting eagerly.
“Did I say you could do that?” Vegas asks. His voice is low and dark, and Pete can’t help it - he freezes, the disappointment in the words just sinking right down somewhere inside him, drawing a quiet whine that he can’t quite help.
There’s silence, and after a few agonizing moments he vaguely registers Vegas sighing, the sound somehow appreciative. “Pete, Pete, I could just eat you up,” he says, the words low and dark.
His voice is actually gentle, but what he does next is anything but - a hand comes crashing down on Pete’s ass, making him cry out in surprised arousal and pain before he’s shoved down against the pillows.
“Hold still,” Vegas orders. “I want to fuck you like this.”
Pete gasps, tensing up instinctively until that gets him another smack, the sound ringing through the quiet room. “Please - “
“Then hold still,” Vegas replies, and his voice is silky, expectant.
So Pete inhales shakily and then somehow finds the reserve somewhere to hold still, his muscles trembling from the effort.
Everything is silent, now, but after a moment Pete hears a quiet, approving chuckle, and the sound drags another moan from him, his voice trembling a little as it passes his lips.
He twitches a little when he feels Vegas touch his ass again, but the touch is light, now, gentle - too gentle, and he squirms a little, breath catching when he’s rewarded with another smack, the sting of it sending a shiver rippling through him.
“Learning that you like that, hm?” Vegas asks, and there’s a dark amusement in his voice. “A little pain gets you off? There’ll be time for that, Pete, don’t you worry. More than enough. Don’t be greedy, now,” he adds, and his voice is lower, command edging into it.
Pete whines but obediently goes still again, having to bite his lip in the effort to keep it that way as Vegas’ hand strokes over his ass slowly before switching to a rougher, more demanding touch, hands massaging deeply into his skin, squeezing harshly.
It seems almost impossible to actually stay still, but somehow Pete manages - right up until the point where he feels fingers probing against him, the sensation making him suck in a breath in surprise, his entire body jerking.
There’s a brief pause, and then Vegas chuckles quietly, mouth hot and sure as he leans forward to kiss Pete’s shoulder. “Don’t get scared now, Pete. You’ve been begging for this since you actually said what you wanted, earlier.”
Pete lets out a sound of protest at the words, humiliation suddenly flooding in at the memory - but there’s a strange heat, too, and he groans when he feels Vegas’ hand wrapping around his cock again, teasing but nowhere near enough to make him come. “Vegas - “
“There we go,” Vegas responds, his voice dark, pleased. “I like when you say my name, Pete. You’re going to be screaming it tonight.”
Pete can feel his breath catch in response to that, but he doesn’t have much time to think about it, because Vegas’ fingers are suddenly teasing at his hole again, one lightly thrusting inside. It feels strange, and dirty, and he can’t help but think about how he looks in that mirror across the room - it makes his hips jerk a little at the thought, and he hears Vegas’ breath catch, the laugh that follows sounding aroused and satisfied.
Another finger joins the first, thrusting deeper, now, and Pete can feel liquid being dripped onto him, pushed inside - but he doesn’t have long to absorb that, because in the next moment the hand is dropping away and he feels Vegas behind him, hands tight where they grip his hips.
The air in the room feels close, hot as it presses in against his skin, and Pete can’t help the quiet sound that escapes him when he feels something seemingly impossibly large nudging against him, then slowly pressing inside. It makes him tense up instinctively, and he winces as Vegas smacks his ass again, sharp and demanding. “Relax, Pete,” he says, and the note in the words has Pete desperately taking a deep breath, a sound of protest escaping him even as he automatically tries to do as he’s told, needing to do what Vegas has asked.
“That’s it - “ Vegas is moving, now, thrusting deeper with every hitch of his hips - it burns a little but also feels amazing, and Pete has to pant for breath, feeling like he’s pinned there, beneath Vegas, the other man slowly taking him over the deeper he slides inside.
There’s a brief pause when Vegas’ hips come up flush against his own, and Pete hears his breathing stutter a little bit, going ragged as he processes everything, the fact that Vegas is fucking him, inside him. He twitches as the idea creates a ripple of arousal, his body pressing back instinctively before he can stop himself. He goes still as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, cringing as he waits for the worst - but Vegas just laughs quietly, and Pete gasps as he feels the other man’s hand on his back, a fingernail digging in as it traces the length of his spine.
“So eager for it, Pete? Yet I’d bet this is your first time, hm?”
He’s withdrawing now, taking his time over it before he thrusts all the way back in, and it burns a little but feels amazing, driving a sound from Pete that’s breathless and needy. Vegas chuckles softly, and a moment later his hands tighten, demanding enough to be painful where they’re holding Pete’s hips, and Pete gasps, shaking his head without thinking, more to avoid answering than anything else.
“Answer me,” Vegas demands, and the tone alone has Pete anticipating the blow that follows, the sting and heat that arc in response to the strike of his hand on Pete’s ass. It drags a moan from him, and he swallows, gasping for breath because how can he possibly talk right now? He’s barely hanging on to any sort of coherence.
He hears Vegas let out a sound that approaches a snarl, and then he’s pressed right up against Pete’s back, hand curling into Pete’s hair to yank his head back, the other one sliding around to grip his throat. “I said answer me, Pete,” he says, and his voice is dark, irritation audible. “We both already know the answer, don’t we? Huh?”
He’s punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, and Pete can’t help the small sounds that escape him with every one, his body shaking with the way that it feels to be held there with Vegas’ hand in his hair, Vegas pressed against his back and buried so deep inside him. “Yes,” he finally manages, not even sure how he’s capable of talking. ‘Yes, yes to both - “ He’s not even sure which one Vegas wanted the answer to, but the answer is the same either way.
“Good. First time and you’re fucking desperate for it, so perfectly obedient, aren’t you? Fuck, if any of them knew they’d have had you on your knees months ago, years ago - “ Vegas is moving faster, now, driving into Pete hard, still marking the words with thrusts that carry him deep inside. “The way you went on your knees earlier, just pure instinct, wasn’t it? You’re going to remember this, Pete, you’re going to want and need more - “
It feels like the words shouldn’t even make sense, shouldn’t even register when Vegas is fucking him as hard as he is, but somehow they do, and Pete moans, desperate as he twists a little, pushing back against Vegas again and again. It feels like he could have come ages ago, so close that he can practically taste it. “Vegas - “
“That’s it - “ The satisfaction is audible in Vegas’ voice, and now he’s driving in even harder, hands forceful and tight over Pete’s hips. It hurts, hurts enough that Pete’s sure that it’s going to bruise, but somehow the thought just makes him hotter, the idea that he might have the marks of Vegas’ hands on him, and he groans, body shaking with the desire to come. “Please, Vegas - Vegas - “
“So fucking eager - “ Vegas’ thrusts are becoming more unsteady, now, driving hard and fast against Pete’s body, grinding in at the base of each stroke to push himself as deep as possible, and Pete whimpers, eyes closing as he arches his back. He hears Vegas hiss softly, and at last he’s leaning forward again, hand demanding and sure as it slides around to grip Pete’s cock, stroking in time with the rhythm. It draws a strangled whine from Pete because he’s so close, he can almost taste it, though it’s almost scary with how much better it is than anything he’s done before -
Then Vegas is slipping the ring off, hand closing around him again and for a brief moment Pete can’t even breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything - then his entire body is convulsing, his throat tight and voice hoarse as he cries out loudly before slumping forward onto the bed, everything drifting away from him in a haze of pleasure.
The last thing he’s aware of is the feeling of Vegas’ body shuddering against his, and somehow that just makes it all even better, his mind hazing out as he lets go of conscious thought.
~*~
The first thing Pete notices when he comes back to himself is that there’s something damp smoothing over his skin, light and gentle. He moans softly at the feeling, but it’s still difficult for him to focus as he opens his eyes, blinking a little as he tries to make sense of things.
“There you are,” he hears.
The voice is familiar, but it still makes Pete freeze up a little, the tiniest bit of wariness creeping in as he squeezes his eyes shut again. Vegas.
Vegas, who just fucked him into the bed. Vegas, who he was supposed to be spying on. Vegas, who is dangerous and manipulative and also apparently really fucking good in bed. Vegas, who apparently makes Pete's brain shut off entirely.
Fuck.
He moans in protest again, but pauses after as he feels warm fingers on his chin.
Somehow he manages to open his eyes, and he swallows as he takes in the sight of Vegas watching him, leaning over him.
“I’m just cleaning you up,” Vegas explains, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’ll get you something to drink in a minute. Your throat might be sore,” he explains.
He’s smirking a little, and that makes Pete groan, the realization setting in. He…screamed. Screamed loudly, and he has a feeling he’d said Vegas’ name, too.
“Fuck,” he mutters dazedly, and follows it with another groan when Vegas laughs smugly before bending to kiss him until he’s breathless.
When he lifts his head Vegas just watches him for a moment with an intent expression, and Pete tries to shift, thinking he should leave. His muscles don’t even want to work, though, and Vegas shakes his head, frowning.
“Stay still,” he orders, meeting Pete’s gaze.
Pete goes still immediately, without thinking. When he does manage to think he ends up just staring at Vegas, a little breathless, his heart racing. Doing that during sex is one thing, but like this… It’s like it’s an instinct, something attuned to the way Vegas talks to him like this.
Vegas is staring at him, dark eyes locked on his. Then he leans forward, fingertips light as they tease along the edge of the choker that Pete’s still wearing, coaxing another shiver from him. “I think you’d best stay with me from now on, Pete,” he murmurs, and his voice is quiet and sure and has a note of unmistakable possessiveness in it that has Pete shivering all over again. “I’ll take care of it. I’m not letting you go now, not when I’ve just found you.”
It makes no sense at all, is ridiculously impossible - though it wouldn't be the first time bodyguards have swapped, Pete supposes. Somehow he believes that Vegas could make it happen, will make it happen, and he finds himself not even objecting, gaze just locked on Vegas as he nods his head. Vegas smiles slowly, and when he reaches out to slip his fingertips beneath the choker to tug Pete closer, he goes willingly, letting himself be swallowed up by the hot, consuming kiss that follows.
It seems like he’s already learned one thing, and that’s that he can’t say no to Vegas.
He’s not sure he minds.