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“How long are you going to be gone for?” Pete asked for the fifth time that morning. Vegas sighed and smiled, glancing behind him at Pete sitting cross-legged on the bed, his chin in his hands, frowning at Vegas’ back.
“Just for three days, baby.” Vegas turned back to his suitcase and mentally checked off all of his necessities once again. The main compartment held his clothes, toothbrush, shoes; the zipper compartment held several guns, an assortment of knives, and his favorite plastic raincoat in case things got ugly and Vegas needed to get some information out of somebody.
Vegas heard a small plop as Pete fell back onto the pillows. Vegas zipped his suitcase shut and stood up, walking over to the bed and climbing on top of Pete, whose eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you going to be okay by yourself here for three days?” Vegas asked quietly, leaning down so their foreheads touched.
Pete sighed shakily and Vegas inwardly cursed his uncle yet again. Pete reached up and scratched lightly at the back of Vegas’ neck, causing pleasant shivers to run down Vegas’ spine. “We haven’t been apart for this long since you got hurt,” Pete said, almost a whisper.
Fuck his uncle. Korn had called the day prior and asked (told) Vegas to go to Tokyo to meet up with members of the yakuza to secure a deal regarding a diamond mine in Russia. There had been a laundry list of excuses as to why Kinn couldn’t go, why Porsche couldn’t go, why Vegas had to go to Tokyo, why this had to happen at the last minute… Vegas didn’t care. He was just another pawn in his uncle’s scheme, but as long as Pete was with him, he was fine doing something probably dastardly for his uncle.
Of course, though, Pete couldn’t go. No, Korn needed Pete in Bangkok for the newest round of bodyguard training, which apparently couldn’t wait three days and had to be done immediately. Vegas hadn’t even tried to talk his uncle out of it—he knew that his mind had been made up.
Breaking the news to Pete had been the hardest part and a knot had formed in Vegas’ stomach that hadn’t let up since then. Seeing the smile on Pete’s face drop, fear come into his gaze, and a line form between his eyes had hurt Vegas more than any gunshots ever could. Vegas had kissed him, reassured him that everything would be fine, that he would have nearly a dozen bodyguards with him, that nothing was going to happen to him. Pete’s hands had still trembled when he gripped Vegas’ back as Vegas fucked him slowly, reassuringly.
Fuck his uncle.
Vegas leaned down to kiss Pete and Pete sighed against his lips. “I know we haven’t been apart this long since then. It’s killing me to have to leave you. I feel like I’m leaving a part of myself behind, Pete.”
Pete dragged Vegas down on top of him and rolled them over, so they were laying on their sides, facing each other. “Promise me that you’re not going to do anything stupid, you’re not going to rush into a gunfight, or pick a fight, or do anything that could get you hurt. Not without me there to protect you.”
Vegas nodded. He wanted this trip to be over as soon as possible, too. He was already thinking about the next time he would get to lay in his bed with Pete like this, every part of his body touching every part of Pete’s. His comfort, his lifeline. “I promise, baby. All I want is to get home to you, I’m already thinking about it.”
Pete nodded and kissed Vegas, this time deepening the kiss and refusing to let Vegas go even as Vegas tried to pull away, the private jet waiting for him and a gaggle of bodyguards at an airfield across Bangkok. “I have to go,” Vegas said gently, finally managing to speak as Pete caught his breath. “It’s a six-hour flight and I have a dinner I have to attend tonight.”
Suddenly, Vegas was wrapped in Pete’s arms, his face buried in Pete’s neck, as Pete hugged him tightly. Vegas held him back—this was for them, he was doing this for them, even if it killed him, even if the last thing he ever wanted to do was say goodbye to Pete, even for a few days.
“I love you so much,” Pete said, his voice small. Vegas swallowed back his tears when he heard them in Pete’s voice—he would be strong, he had to be strong.
“I love you, Pete, I love you so much,” Vegas returned. A moment later, Pete reluctantly pulled back, sitting up beside Vegas. He reached out and smoothed down Vegas’ hair, a small smile on his lips. It failed to reach his eyes.
“Come walk me out,” Vegas said as he stood up, grabbing his suitcase and backpack before leaning down to slip his shoes on.
Pete grabbed for Vegas’ hand, squeezing it tightly as he and Vegas walked down the hallways and stairs of the minor family compound until they had reached the garage, where a large van was waiting. Vegas glanced inside and could see nine of his best bodyguards sitting inside, talking quietly to each other or scrolling on their phones.
Nop nodded to Vegas as he took Vegas’ things and put them in the trunk of the van. Vegas had insisted that Nop stay behind with Pete—he felt safer knowing that his most trusted bodyguard was with Pete while Vegas was away.
Vegas turned to Pete, grasping both of Pete’s hands in both of his. “Text me about your day, about anything you want. If I don’t look at them right away, it’s because I’m busy, but I promise, I will look at them as soon as I can.”
Pete frowned slightly. Vegas knew that he hated texting, something the main family had instilled in him. He hadn’t been allowed a phone when he was with the main family, only if necessary for missions, so texting was one of his least favorite forms of communication, something Vegas had learned early on in their relationship when he would text Pete and then get scared out of his mind when Pete didn’t text him back, only to finally realize that it was because Pete just didn’t like to text people back. Read receipts had been turned on then, so at least Vegas always knew that Pete had at least seen his messages. “Can I call you? Or send you voice notes?”
Vegas laughed and nodded. “Yes, baby, calls will probably be hard to pick up, but you can send voice notes, if you want. I’ll listen to them when I have a chance.”
Pete nodded and leaned in slightly. Vegas smiled and let go of Pete’s hands, cupping Pete’s face lightly as he kissed him. He rested his forehead against Pete’s and breathed him in, praying that Pete’s scent would stay with him the whole time he was gone. “Be safe, Vegas, okay?” Vegas nodded. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Pete.” Finally, Vegas thumbed Pete’s cheek again and released him, climbing into the passenger seat of the van and shutting the door behind him. He watched Pete through the side mirror as the van pulled away, keeping his eyes trained on the figure growing smaller and smaller until the van turned onto a different street and Vegas couldn’t see Pete anymore.
--
Vegas had brought a book to read on the plane, some sci-fi novel that had come recommended from the bookseller he bought it from, but he couldn’t concentrate, not when he felt an emptiness just next to him the entire time.
It was weird to be this far away from Pete. Sure, there were days that Pete was needed at the main family house and Vegas was left behind at their home, but he could usually distract himself by hanging out with Macau or cooking a big dinner for Pete. Every time that Pete left for the main family house, Vegas knew that, at the end of the day, they would be falling into bed together.
Not this time. Now, there were going to be days where he wouldn’t feel Pete’s lips on his, their hands tangled together, their bodies pressed against each other as they slept. Nine months ago, Vegas never would have imagined that he would not only be sleeping next to someone every night, but that he would need it, crave it, as if Pete was a piece of him, half of his soul.
Vegas fiddled with his phone, but, even on a private jet, wi-fi was spotty at best, and no matter how many times he checked his texts with Pete, there were still no new ones waiting for him, at least not while they were in the air.
Vegas watched his bodyguards play card games, chuckling lightly as they yelled at each other and made bets involving watches and cars. This was distracting at least—distracting enough that when the pilot made the announcement that they were finally about to land, Vegas found that he hadn’t checked his phone for any messages in nearly an hour.
However, as soon as they had touched down on the ground, Vegas was immediately checking his phone, grateful that he had insisted on international plans when he and Pete had gotten new phones a few months ago, knowing that this would probably happen at some point. Now, unlike the rest of his crew, he didn’t have to wait until they got to the hotel to talk to Pete.
Vegas texted him immediately: Just landed. Miss you so much. How are you?
As soon as the text went through, a voice note popped up from Pete on Vegas’ phone. Then another. Then another. Vegas’ smile widened at each new one that he saw, and he fumbled in his pocket to reach for his earbuds, desperate to have Pete’s voice in his ears again.
The first voice note wasn’t long and looked as if it had been sent not twenty minutes after the flight had taken off. Vegas closed his eyes and smiled softly at Pete’s voice. “Well, your flight should have just taken off. It’s weird to know that we don’t both have our feet on the ground in the same country anymore. When was the last time you left the country anyway? Fuck, when was the last time I left the country? Anyway. Nothing new to update. Just wanted to say that I miss you.”
Vegas leaned his head back on the headrest and sighed. This was going to be a long fucking three days. Pete sounded so sad and there was nothing Vegas could do about it. Maybe if he could get the deal with the yakuza sooner, he could go home sooner. Pete was his motivation to get this deal finished.
Vegas opened his eyes and clicked play on the next voice note, a slightly longer one. “I think your flight has been in the air for like, what, three hours now? Mmm… yeah, three hours, I think. I keep looking at the last text you sent me before you took off. ‘About to take off. I miss you already. I love you.’” Pete paused to sigh, and Vegas squeezed his eyes shut tightly—he would not get openly emotional in this fucking airplane. “I miss you already, Vegas. This is so weird. I keep just, like, expecting you to come walking in at any minute, telling me that you didn’t actually have to go, that Khun Korn changed his mind, and that the deal isn’t actually that important. I know it doesn’t work like that, but I… I guess I just wish that it did. Three days, Vegas. Fuck. Three days.”
Vegas’ phone vibrated and there was a return text from Pete that he glanced at before listening to the third voice note: happy you landed, baby. we’re in different countries now, that’s weird. i’m okay, just miss you.
Clicking play on the third voice note, Vegas let Pete’s voice wash over him again and smiled as Pete began narrating what he was doing. “So, I decided that I would clean up a little bit while you’re gone. I mean, I know you’re very clean. Obviously. I decided to clean up my stuff that is just, you know, fucking… laying around everywhere. Fuck, wait, actually I don’t know why I’m telling you, this would have been a nice surprise for you to get home and see the house all clean… whatever. I already started the voice note. Anyway, I got a text from Porsche, it seems like he and Kinn are ‘feeling guilty’ that they couldn’t go on the mission and that you got sent instead and that I couldn’t even go with you. And can I just say, that is kind of shitty? Like, if Khun Korn had sent one of them on the mission, the other would definitely have been allowed to go. But no, I just have to stay and like… help with bodyguard training? That could have fucking waited three days. I could have helped you…” Pete stopped, and Vegas could imagine him calming himself down. “Anyway. They feel bad, I think they’re going to stop by for dinner or something or take me to dinner somewhere, I’m not sure, you know how Porsche texts.” Like a forty-year-old, Vegas thought, just as Pete said, “Like a forty-year-old. Okay, this note is getting kinda long. You should be landing pretty soon. Please call me when you get a chance. I miss you so much. I love you.”
Vegas sighed and pocketed his phone as the plane slowed to a stop and the flight attendant opened the door. His bodyguards all waited behind Vegas, allowing him to get out first. Vegas grabbed his backpack, knowing that the others would get his suitcase for him.
Down on the tarmac, as Vegas descended the stairs of the plane, were several black SUVs waiting for Vegas and his crew, presumably to take them to the hotel. Vegas couldn’t wait to get there so he could hopefully call Pete, at least for a few minutes, before his dinner that evening.
--
The phone call Vegas was looking forward to at the hotel didn’t happen. When they arrived at the hotel, the members of the yakuza that they were planning to meet later that evening had oh so conveniently arrived at their hotel just at the time that Vegas and his entourage arrived. After Vegas had bowed in greeting to Takahashi Yuma, the head of the family that Vegas was in Japan to strike a deal with, he had fired off a quick text to Pete: So sorry, baby. The Takahashis were already at the hotel when we got here. I’ll try to call later if I can. Have a good rest of your day, I love you.
Vegas didn’t get a chance to check his phone again until nearly six hours later. It was nearing midnight when Vegas finally stumbled into his hotel room, his bags already waiting for him, every bone in his body exhausted. The nice face he had had to put on for the Takahashis, the compromises he had had to make, the lies he had had to tell… and this was only a preliminary meeting dinner. Vegas could barely remember what they had discussed for so long, only that his legs were cramping from sitting for hours, and he was aching to get out of his clothes and into a shower.
More importantly, Vegas plugged in his phone next to the bed to finally let it charge up again, hoping his phone would have an influx of messages from Pete. While his phone was charging, Vegas stripped and took one of the quickest showers he’d had in recent memory, though that could probably be attributed to the fact that he and Pete mostly showered jointly, which often devolved into sex until the water ran cold.
Drying his hair off and slipping on only a pair of underwear, Vegas returned to his bed and his still-charging phone on the bedside table. He checked his texts: four messages from Pete. One voice note and three texts.
Vegas grinned.
The first was a text, clearly in response to his initial apology that he wouldn’t be able to call Pete right away: :( i understand. porsche and kinn are coming over in a little to take me to dinner, i’ll let you know when i’m home. love you
Vegas’ eyes skimmed to the next text, from a couple of hours later, around eight in Bangkok, which read: just got home, miss you
The last text had come in while Vegas was in the shower and he frowned at this one, disappointment and anger at his uncle rolling in his gut: really tired tonight, baby, gonna go to sleep early. gonna try at least. don’t know how well i’ll sleep without you here. hope my voice note brings some kind of smile to your face. try and call tomorrow if you can, okay? i get it if you can’t. i love you so much, i wish you were home
Vegas had to resist the urge to throw his phone across the room. He was glad Pete was going to attempt to get some sleep (Vegas felt the same way—unsure if he would even be able to sleep much at all these next couple nights without Pete next to him), but he was mad that he wasn’t next to him. He had never been this far away from Pete before, not in years. Vegas of course hadn’t known then that his fucking soulmate lived mere minutes away, but he had, and now, when the most time they had spent apart since Vegas’ stint in the hospital had been a few long twelve-hour days, the anguish of not having Pete next to him was starting to get to Vegas.
All Vegas wanted was to hear Pete’s voice on the other end of the line, to talk to him, just for a few minutes, but he wouldn’t disturb Pete’s sleep, not when he knew how hard the next few days would be on both of them.
Sighing, Vegas clicked on the voice note after putting his earbuds in, leaning back on the pillows as he let Pete’s voice flood his ears. He furrowed his eyebrows when the first few seconds were quiet, Pete’s breathing the only thing audible enough for Vegas to know that he hadn’t accidentally paused the recording. Finally, Pete began to speak breathily: “Vegas, baby, I miss you so much. I knew that tonight would be hard, but fuck, I guess I didn’t realize just how hard. The hardest part about not having you here is that I want you.” Vegas’ eyes snapped open, and he stared down at his phone as Pete began to moan and Vegas heard rustling in the back of the recording. His breath picked up alongside Pete’s. “I miss your hands, Vegas, I miss them on me, I miss your mouth, I can just imagine you licking along every inch of my body, hnng, Vegas,” Pete moaned.
Vegas paused the recording, his hands shaking. He glanced down and he was, unsurprisingly, completely hard. Fuck. Vegas shoved his hand down his underwear and fumbled with his phone before he pressed play again. “I need you, Vegas, I need you on top of me, fuck, if I concentrate hard enough, I can feel you inside me, oh, Vegas, fuck, I need you inside me,” Pete gasped, his moans intermingling with the very obvious sound of slick skin on skin. The sound of Pete masturbating was enough for Vegas’ cock to leak precome, which Vegas spread over his own shaft as he began jerking himself off alongside Pete.
“By the time you get back, it’s going to be the longest we’ve gone without touching each other, the longest I’ve gone without kissing you or touching your cock since the hospital, fuck, Vegas, I need you, I need you so bad, Vegas,” Pete moaned, and Vegas’ eyes rolled back in his head as he heard Pete speed up the motion on his cock. Vegas matched his pace.
“When you get back, I need you to be inside me, I need you to fill me up, I can already imagine it now, it’s going to be so good, fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m close, I’m so close,” Pete panted. Vegas didn’t want to come until Pete had come, but he was on the edge, so close, as close as Pete was, and Vegas prayed that Pete was about to tip over into orgasm first.
“Vegas, baby, please, please, fuck me, fuck me, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Pete choked out and his loud, low moan flooded Vegas’ ears as Vegas’ entire body jerked and he was coming, hard, breathing heavily as he came down from his high.
Pete hummed. “I miss you, Vegas. I hope you enjoy this little voice note. I love you,” he said before the recording ended and Vegas was left staring up at the ceiling.
Vegas hadn’t come that hard from masturbating since before Pete—not that he jerked off much anymore what with his boyfriend always ready for sex—but fuck, that had been a whole new level. As Vegas’ heart stopped racing, he cursed his uncle once again. All he wanted was to be inside of Pete, but no, he had to be in fucking Tokyo instead.
Oh, Vegas was going to get a good deal out of the Takahashis if it was the last thing he did—so that he could stop dealing with this bullshit and get back home.
--
Vegas had to wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning. He had slept fitfully, the first night in months that he hadn’t had Pete by his side. Though he hoped Pete had slept well, he secretly, selfishly hoped that Pete was missing him just as much.
Vegas shot off a text to Pete before he left the bed to get ready: Going to be in meetings all day. Send me updates, voice notes, texts, pictures, whatever, when you have time. Your voice note last night was the sexiest thing ever. Came so hard I nearly blacked out. Feel free to send more of those especially. I miss you so much, Pete. I love you.
While washing his face, Vegas looked in the mirror and a smirk played on his lips. He didn’t have time to send a whole voice note of his own to Pete, but he could snap a picture for him at the very least. Still in just his underwear, Vegas grabbed his phone and tried to position himself seductively in the mirror, lowering the waistband of his briefs until the head of his cock was peeking out. Before he could overanalyze the photo, Vegas sent it and locked his phone, breathing deeply. He and Pete filmed themselves having sex relatively often, but this, sexting, Vegas hadn’t really ever figured it out. Hadn’t needed to before Pete, really hadn’t needed to since Pete really either, not since he could normally just fuck Pete into the mattress or against the wall at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately for Vegas, Pete was very good at sexting, so Vegas sometimes struggled to keep up.
It was going to be a long day, indeed, and Vegas already had to resist the urge to check his phone to see if Pete had read his messages. At least he was going to be distracted during the day, even as much as he wished he wasn’t going to be.
Vegas finished getting ready and checked his phone one last time—messages still unread—and pocketed it before heading downstairs for his first meeting.
--
It was lunchtime and Vegas was exhausted. Trying to get anything out of the yakuza was almost impossible, and Vegas was less and less certain with each passing minute that he was going to get home to Pete early like he wanted. He knew he would be able to get the Takahashis to crack eventually—it was why Vegas had been sent on this mission, after all—but it was going to take all of his willpower not to just shoot the man and take the Russian diamond mine for himself, consequences be damned.
He had been able to step away to the bathroom for a few minutes while lunch was being ordered, praying that he might have a message waiting for him from Pete, something to keep him going for the next few hours. As he stepped into a stall and closed the door behind him, he fished his earbuds and phone out of his pocket.
A sigh of relief, joy, lust expelled from Vegas’ lungs when he finally unlocked his phone and saw his notifications: ten messages from Pete. Vegas scrolled back up to the top, stopping just underneath the half-naked photo of himself he had sent to Pete. Vegas grinned to himself, already able to guess how Pete would have enjoyed the picture of him. He was proven right by Pete’s first string of messages:
holy fuck
vegas holy fucking shit
you’re so sexy what the fuck what the FUCK
i’m gonna pass out i need your cock i need it so bad this is so fucking unfair
vegas FUCK
vegas
vegas vegas vegas
fuck
Vegas closed his eyes when he saw that the next message was a voice note from Pete. He dug his fingers into the leg of his pants, gripping the fabric tightly. Vegas had to actively stop himself from ripping the fabric, when he knew, he just knew what kind of voice note this was going to be.
Vegas already felt himself growing hard before he had even pressed play on the voice note, but he tried to get comfortable on the toilet seat (as comfortable as he could on the hard plastic) and closed his eyes, breathing heavily as Pete’s voice filtered through his earbuds.
“Vegas, I just woke up, and that’s the first thing I see this morning, fuck. I barely slept last night, tossing and turning. I kept waking up and reaching for you and you weren’t there, and I’d get scared and sit up and then remember that you weren’t here with me, and I just… I just was so miserable.” Pete audibly swallowed, breathing heavily. Vegas’ fingers tightened around his phone in his hand. His night had been much the same and, as when he had woken up this morning, he was selfishly glad that Pete hadn’t slept well either. “But then after I finally manage to sleep for an hour, I wake up and the first thing I see is this, your body, your cock, fuck, you’re teasing me, Vegas, and that’s so unfair.” Vegas barked out a laugh at that. Unfair? Unfair? Pete had sent him a voice note last night of himself jerking off before saying he was going to bed, not responding to Vegas’ messages after that. If anyone had started the teasing, it was Pete.
“I can’t stop looking at the picture, Vegas,” Pete whined and instantly, Vegas was fully erect, uncomfortably so. He palmed his cock, desperate to pull it out, but more desperate to hear Pete’s voice, to hear Pete moan his pleasure. Vegas heard rustling, heard the familiar cracking of a bottle, heard Pete gasp. Vegas could imagine the sight as if it was right in front of him: Pete naked on the bed, legs spread wide, his hand in between his legs, fingering himself open, reaching, trying to hit that perfect spot of intense pleasure, face screwing up in frustration when he couldn’t get it on the first try like Vegas always could.
“These should be your fingers inside me, Vegas, all I want is to feel you inside me again. You fill me up so good every time, you know how to make me feel good, you’re the only one who knows how to make me feel good, Vegas. Oh, Vegas, fuck, right there, right there,” Pete moaned, and Vegas heard the loud slaps of skin over and over, and Vegas was back to envisioning Pete spread out on the bed in front of him, his palm hitting his perineum repeatedly as he fucked into himself with his fingers, brushing his prostate every other thrust, if he managed to angle his fingers just right.
Vegas was so hard, he felt that with a few strokes, he’d be coming, but all of his attention was focused on Pete, the sounds of his pleasure. A hot flash of confusing jealousy stoked through Vegas—how he could be jealous that Pete was touching himself was new, but Vegas screwed up his face at it anyway. It should be him touching Pete, Vegas was the one who gave Pete his pleasure. Pete taking it for himself was sexy, but Vegas should have been the one commanding it, the one instructing him.
Pete’s moans got louder, and he called for Vegas over and over. Vegas, always attuned to Pete, knew when the lilt of his voice changed, when his moans got that much higher pitched, when he began to moan Vegas’ name more sloppily, cutting off as he devolved into unintelligible groans. “Vegas, Vegas, you’re gonna make me come, make me come, please, Vegas, I need to come, I’m gonna come, fuck,” and Vegas heard the hitch in Pete’s breath and the resulting whine that drew out into a moan as Pete rode out his orgasm.
A moment later, Pete must have brought the phone closer to his face, as his voice was much more intimate in Vegas’ ears when he spoke again. “I miss you so fucking much, Vegas. Please come home soon. I love you.” The voice note ended.
There was one more message from Pete—and Vegas nearly came untouched at the sight of it. From a high angle, Pete had taken a selfie of his naked, flushed body, probably as soon as he had sent the voice note to Vegas. The come wasn’t even dry on his stomach, his cock still half-hard. There was a grin on Pete’s face, the upper half of his face cut off with the angle. Vegas swore.
Anytime Pete sent him a sexy picture like this, or on the rare occasion that Vegas sent one himself, it was as a tease—knowing that they would be able to have their way with the other person in a matter of minutes, hours at most. This time, when Vegas had sent the picture earlier, he had known it would produce something like that voice note out of Pete. Hoped it would, at the very least. But a naked picture of Pete, too? When Vegas couldn’t abandon this meeting to run home and touch him? Vegas had half a mind to do what he had considered yesterday and storm the room and kill every member of the yakuza present before him.
Instead, Vegas unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it roughly, his eyes never leaving the picture of Pete.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Khun Vegas?” Green, one of the bodyguards traveling with Vegas called to him.
Motherfucker. “What?” Vegas growled, his hand steady on his erection.
“They’re ready to continue, Khun Vegas,” Green responded.
Motherfucker. “I’ll be out in two minutes,” Vegas choked out. He sped up the dry jerks of his cock, the friction half painful, but Vegas didn’t care, couldn’t care, not with this picture of Pete right in front of him.
Thirty seconds later, Vegas was biting his lip, nearly certain he had drawn blood with the force of it, as he came all over his hand, nearly dropping his phone in his haste to grab toilet paper so that come didn’t get all over his expensive slacks.
Vegas cleaned himself off and flushed the toilet, washing his hands at the sink and analyzing himself in the mirror, making sure he didn’t match the flushed red Pete on his phone. No, Vegas had to look composed and calm for the Takahashis, not as if he had just been masturbating to a picture of his boyfriend in the bathroom.
Before Vegas returned back for more hours of painfully boring meetings discussing logistics and compromises, he sent a quick text to Pete: You’re painfully sexy, Pete. I’m going to wreck you when I get home. Miss you. Love you.
--
Vegas was itching to check his phone. When he had settled back into his uncomfortable office chair in the meeting room with the Takahashis, he had somehow accidentally turned his phone from silent to vibration. In the past few hours, he had felt his phone buzz in his pocket a number of times, signaling new messages from who else but Pete.
The ongoing negotiations were tough, and Vegas was on the verge of having to throw things at the yakuza that he hadn’t expected—other deals that he had been authorized to make, but that should have been a last resort, he was having to turn to before dinner. Vegas knew that one message from Pete, getting to see his name or his face, see the words that he had sent to Vegas, would give him the push that he needed to make it through the rest of this hellish day.
When it finally came time for dinner, the Takahashis called in their personal chef, who was busy explaining the menu options for dinner that evening. Vegas had already graciously told the chef that he would eat whatever was prepared for him. The Takahashis were more particular and demanded specific ingredients prepared a specific way, from what Vegas could understand in his limited knowledge of Japanese.
It was the perfect time for Vegas to sneak a peek at his phone—just for a minute, just for the boost that he would need for the rest of the evening and what was probably going to be a particularly long one at that.
Vegas inched his phone out of his pocket and placed it on his leg under the table. Messages from nobody but Pete. Not that Vegas had expected any—Macau knew about the mission he was on, and Macau also knew that Vegas needed to stay focused and that he would text or call Macau when he was back in Thailand. They’d been through this before.
It was true—Vegas did need to stay focused. He also needed to glance at these messages from Pete or he would be more distracted, wondering what was waiting for him.
There was a voice note, which Vegas knew he would have to listen to later, but he hoped there would at least be a few messages that he could hold onto, run over and over in his head, on the tip of his tongue, behind his teeth, clamp down on them and remember Pete’s words when he felt like putting a bullet in Takahashi’s neck.
Vegas let out a breath at the fact that there were several texts and what maybe even looked like some pictures, though he couldn’t tell immediately what they were of from his lock screen preview. He quickly swiped through to his messages with Pete and glanced through the texts, trying desperately to keep a smile from spreading too obviously across his face.
boooooored
have we really become one of those couples that can’t do anything alone??
because i seriously am miserable without you here and it’s been like, 36 hours
khun keeps trying to facetime me and i just… 😐
i only want to talk to you but you’re in MEETINGS and shit
i miss you
Vegas scrolled past the voice note and suddenly had to hold back a choked gasp when the next messages were the pictures he had previewed earlier. There were a series of mirror selfies that Pete had taken in front of the big, standing mirror in the corner of their bedroom. He was wearing a choker with a heart in the middle of it and a chain running down the side that looked suspiciously like a leash. He was wearing nothing else.
The pictures got progressively sexier as Vegas scrolled through them, trying not to let his eyes linger too long, checking out of the corner of his eye every few seconds to make sure that nobody else would catch even a glimpse of his Pete like this. Pete took photos from different angles—holding his cock, cupping his balls, over his shoulder with a full view of his gorgeous ass—and Vegas felt himself getting harder by the moment.
Vegas finally reached the end of his thread of messages to one last text from Pete: hope i’m not distracting you too much, baby, and he gripped his phone so tightly he was half worried he was going to crack the screen.
Vegas fired off a text, his fingers tapping quickly and quietly as it seemed the Takahashis were wrapping up their discussions with the chef: I’m so fucking hard right now, Pete, FUCK. I’m in the middle of meetings still. You’re going to be in trouble for these when I get home.
“Distracted, Khun Vegas?” Takahashi Shinji, one of the sons of the family, jeered as Vegas’ head snapped back up. He pocketed his phone and tilted his head, smiling as politely as he could muster.
“Not distracted whatsoever, Shinji-san.”
What a fucking lie.
Vegas was rock hard in his pants, uncomfortably so, and though he was thrown right back into the middle of the conversation he had been having as if nothing had happened, all that was playing in his mind was a slideshow of the pictures that Pete had sent him.
The messages Vegas had gotten from Pete had certainly brought him back to life, if nothing else, and, his erection straining against the front of his slacks under the table, he powered forward with the deal.
--
It was nearly one in the morning when Vegas staggered through the door of his hotel room. He could feel the saké swirling in his bloodstream and in his head. He had had way too much to drink, way more than he would normally have, even with Pete around. But it had worked. Fuck, it had worked.
Vegas’ master plan had been to get the Takahashis drunk enough that they would agree to the terms that his uncle had told him were what they actually wanted.
As with every deal that Vegas ever did, he had given up things “reluctantly,” including the contact information of a favored arms dealer from Korea and a stake in the newest section of the drug trade that the Theerapanyakuls had invested in. Vegas had hemmed and hawed, pretending to hate what he was giving to them in exchange for getting a cut of the diamond mine deal, and when they had felt victorious, Vegas had been the one to suggest getting drinks.
Vegas had also been the one to suggest saké and had taken shot after shot when the Takahashis had, keeping his composure for as long as possible. Eventually, several shots in, Vegas had struck with his final offer—what his uncle had been after all along. Vegas’ uncle wanted a forty percent share in the Russian diamond mine. The Takahashis had initially come into the meetings with Vegas offering eight percent, but after everything, with the skills of a lifetime of conning fellow members of the mafia out of their hard-earned dollars, Vegas had gotten Takahashi Yuma to agree to grant the Theerapanyakul family a forty-five percent share in the diamond mine.
Of course, there would need to be contracts and paperwork, but those were all things that could be done when Vegas was back home. Home. With Pete.
Vegas clumsily fished for his phone in his pocket, his eyes bleary. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned the volume on his phone all the way up, pressing play on the first of three voice notes from Pete that he had yet to be able to listen to—one from earlier that he had seen during the quick check of Pete's messages he had checked at dinner and two more since then.
The first voice note was relatively short, and Vegas smiled at Pete’s voice, feeling it overtake his face. Oh, he was drunker than he thought. “It’s weird that you’re not here. Like, I think I’ve genuinely called your name out loud to ask you something like four times, and then I remember oh… you’re not here. Anyway, I’ve just been like, wandering around the compound. I think I’ve passed by Nop like eight times and he’s starting to get a little worried about me. Should be your incentive to come home soon. I miss you.”
Vegas leaned on the counter and scrolled past the masturbatory worthy pictures of Pete. He had two more messages, both voice notes. The first one was the longest Pete had sent since last night—nearly five minutes. “Porsche is annoying the fuck out of me,” this voice note opened with, and Vegas couldn’t help but bark out a laugh as he turned the sink on, just enough for a dribble of water to come out, splashing some on his face while he listened to Pete. “Right, so I’ll just tell you the story—he and Kinn came over yesterday to take me to dinner, and it was fucking weird. Like, them being there together and holding hands and shit, and like, yeah was I being a bit of an asshole? Sure, but they deserved it. They came to take me out of the house because they knew I’ve been having a hard time without you and then they’re all over each other at the car, in the restaurant, whatever? Like, have some fucking decorum.”
Vegas had to pause the voice note, he was laughing so hard. He would have found this chuckle-worthy on a normal day, but with the alcohol clouding his thoughts until all they narrowed down to was a single point of Pete, the story Pete was telling him was suddenly the funniest in the world. He grabbed his phone and fumbled for the lights, switching them off before he somehow found his way over to the bed. He pressed play again as he began to shove his clothes off messily.
“Anyway, so we were at dinner, and yeah, I guess I was probably being a little short with them, but like, can you blame me? I miss you so fucking much, Vegas, and I haven’t had a dinner alone with them since… since you. Since us. And so I kept wanting to reach for you, I kept wanting to like, look at you when one of them said something stupid, but I couldn’t. And yeah, I guess, it probably wasn’t like, fair of me to get mad at Porsche and Kinn over it, they were trying to be nice, take me out, whatever, like it’s Khun Korn who did all this, whatever, but I don’t know, Vegas, it was like they were fucking rubbing it in or something.”
Vegas finally shucked his shirt off and was fully naked on the bed. He frowned at the tone of Pete’s voice. A story about how Pete was annoyed with Porsche was supposed to be funny, not make Vegas want to wring the necks of the entire main family. Metaphorically, of course.
“So, right, like I guess I was probably pretty moody at dinner. And afterwards, they were like, ‘oh, let’s go see a movie or something,’ and I just wanted to come back home. At least it smells like you at home, Vegas, it feels like you. So, I just told them to drop me off at home after dinner, I didn’t want them to come inside with me, whatever. That was last night. I didn’t tell you about it then because, I don’t know, I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Fuck, a few days without you, Vegas, and I’m this broken.” Vegas paused the recording again, his hand shaking a bit. He felt his eyes well up with tears and he blinked, pushing most away but letting a few slip loose. He should have insisted that they fly back to Bangkok tonight. The deal was done. Fuck.
Vegas could hear Pete swallow and force a note of annoyance back into his voice. Vegas sat up, and even though his head was swimming, he forced himself to concentrate on Pete. “Sorry. Anyway. So, I didn’t talk to Porsche the rest of the night and I wake up this morning to texts that say like, hang on, I’ll read them to you, okay, they say, ‘Good morning Pete!’ Like, with the exclamation mark and everything. I didn’t respond, and then he texted me like half an hour later saying, ‘Hope you're having a good morning so far!’ Then immediately after was his text being like, ‘Khun Korn asked for me to tell you that he would like you to stop by to help me with bodyguard training today. Text me whenever you’re leaving and when you get here, I’m excited to see you today!’”
That explained why the messages from Pete had been so sporadic today—he had clearly had to go to the main family house probably soon after the voice note he had sent of himself jerking off to Vegas’ picture and had only gotten home when he had sent the pictures of himself to Vegas around dinner.
“Yeah, so, I just respond like, ‘leaving now’ and ‘here,’ like I really was not in the mood to be texting back and forth with Porsche this morning. Then when I’m at the main family house, I’m trying to help the bodyguards train, we were in the pool for most of today, and Porsche just kept coming up to me again and again, Vegas, like he wouldn’t fucking stop. He was barely even watching the bodyguards at all, just watching me like I was some sort of wounded animal that he needed to keep checking on. And every time it would just be like, ‘How are you, Pete?’ or ‘Hope you’re feeling okay, today,’ like the fucker, I don’t know how he’s so bad at this.”
Vegas held his head in his hands. He might actually have to wring some necks at the main family house when he returned to Bangkok now. “Eventually, I left, like whatever, we did the exercises in the pool, and I was like, ‘okay, good enough for today,’ I just wanted to leave and get out of there, I didn’t want to be around any of them anymore. And I bet you’ll never guess what happened.” Vegas could guess what had happened. “Porsche is like, fucking blocking my way as I’m trying to leave, saying like, ‘oh, stay for dinner, everyone misses you so much around here,’ blah blah blah, and I fucking snapped, Vegas. I just yelled at him something like, ‘Leave me the fuck alone, Porsche, I don’t need your pity, I don’t need you to treat me like some child or something, okay, yeah, I’m fucking pissed that Vegas is gone, and it fucking sucks, but I don’t need my friends treating me like I’m broken for missing him, for needing him while he’s not here.’” Pete let out a long sigh and Vegas had to, not for the first or third or tenth time in these past few days, resist throwing his phone against the wall in anger at the whole situation.
“So, then I left. And then I was trying not to think about it, that’s why I sent those pictures to you, I don’t know, I just wanted to be thinking about you instead, Vegas, like, you’re my focus, and fuck, it’s like I wasn’t allowed to miss you, or if I was missing you, it’s like I was a broken, lonely child. Porsche tried to call me like four times, he kept leaving texts, like, ‘I’m sorry, Pete, I know you miss Vegas,’ whatever. I didn’t read them. I don’t want to, I don’t care what he has to say, frankly, not when I’m just thinking about you.”
There was a long pause and Vegas checked to make sure that the voice note hadn’t ended. Fuck, Pete knew how to sober him up, at least. “Yeah. So, that’s pretty much the story. It’s why I’m annoyed with Porsche, I’m annoyed with Kinn, I’m annoyed with Khun Korn, like this training in the pool today couldn’t have waited an extra day? I know it could have.”
Another pause. When Pete spoke again, Vegas stood up off the bed and began shoving himself back into his clothes, grabbing his things and throwing them into his suitcase. Pete was clearly crying, and Vegas couldn’t stand it. “I miss you so fucking much, Vegas. I feel like… I don’t even know what I feel like. I feel like half of me is gone, especially since we haven’t even been able to talk, it’s just been these voice notes and the few pictures and texts, and I know, I know you’re working hard and you’re doing it for you, for me, for us, Vegas, but it’s not fair. This is the longest I’ve been apart from you since I had you, and I just… I just keep thinking, like, this is what could have happened if you…” Pete broke off and Vegas heard him let out a sob. Vegas screamed. “If you hadn’t made it that day, this is what I would be like, even worse, Vegas. I knew how much I need you when you left yesterday. I’ve known for a long fucking time. I miss you, Vegas, I love you with everything I have in me. Please come home to me, I can’t do this anymore. Please… please, Vegas,” Pete broke off and the voice note ended.
Vegas was out the door of his hotel room and standing in front of the door next to his in a flash, where he knew Green, one of his more trusted bodyguards, was sleeping. He knocked quickly and harshly. “Khun Vegas, is everything okay?” Green sounded panicked as he opened the door.
“Call the pilots. Get everyone together. We’re flying back to Bangkok right now.”
--
Vegas attributed it to the fact that he was still mostly drunk that he hadn’t had the forethought to tell Pete that he was coming home. The plane had taken off at just past two in the morning after a scramble to find replacement pilots who were actually prepared to make a six-hour flight, as the pilots who had flown Vegas and his bodyguards to Tokyo had not slept enough to safely fly.
It was all a blur to Vegas regardless—he had let Green take over the preparations pretty immediately. He remembered standing in the hallway of the hotel with his bags, his phone clutched in his hand. He remembered driving to the air strip. He remembered sitting down in his seat on the plane. Now, suddenly, it was nearly seven in the morning and there was just over an hour left until they landed in Bangkok.
The time difference meant that they would be landing in Bangkok around six. The Theerapanyakul private air strip was about thirty-five minutes away from the minor family compound. If Vegas could convince someone to drive fast… he could be back home with Pete by half past six.
Vegas had been listening to Pete’s last voice note that he had sent on repeat for the past two hours. It was short, but Vegas didn’t care. Pete’s voice washed over him as he pressed play again.
“I’m sorry I got emotional in that last voice note.” Vegas hated this first part—Pete had nothing to apologize for, and he knew that, he knew that. “I feel like I can never tell you enough how much I love you, Vegas. I feel like no matter how many times I say it, it’s not enough. Fuck, I mean, it took so long for you to even believe me when I said that I love you. Two days apart and this is what it does to me. I miss you so much, Vegas, I miss lying next to you in bed, I miss having sex with you, I miss watching you cook, I miss talking to you, I miss laughing together at stupid shit that Porsche sends me, I miss being able to call out for you and knowing that you’re always going to answer me, that you’ll be there no matter what I need.” Pete let out a slow breath and Vegas squeezed his eyes shut tightly. The dried tear tracks on his own face he was sure mirrored those on Pete’s. An hour and a half until he was home to Pete. He could do this. No more crying. “I love you, baby. More than anything, more than anyone, always. Please come home to me soon. I love you.”
The voice note ended, and Vegas gripped the armrest of his seat, glad that he had a seat away from his bodyguards. It was no secret how he and Pete felt—they were not secret, hadn’t been, not ever, not since Pete had left the main family to be with Vegas. But the emotions, the vulnerability that Pete drew out of Vegas—that was only for him to see. He didn’t care about appearing weak in front of his subordinates. Vegas simply knew that there were things in his life that were reserved for Pete, and Pete alone.
He pressed play on the voice note again.
--
Vegas had dozed for maybe twenty minutes on the plane ride; by all accounts, he should have been exhausted, having had meetings all day the day prior, followed by getting drunker than he had in months, finally bookended by a six-hour flight. In reality, Vegas felt more awake than he had in days—he bounced his leg as the car raced closer and closer towards home.
He watched out the window as the sun began to rise slowly and finally, finally the buildings began to get more familiar, and Vegas knew that they were nearing home.
As soon as the car pulled up to the front of the minor family compound, Vegas was opening the door and stepping outside before the car had even come to a complete stop. He left his bags in the car—he didn’t need anything in them anyway. The bodyguards milling around seemed surprised to see them. Vegas didn’t know if Green had alerted them that they were coming back early, and he didn’t care. It wasn’t uncommon for Vegas to have a one-track mind, especially when it came to Pete, but right now, he didn’t even stop for a second, letting his feet carry him mindlessly to his bedroom door, to Pete, Pete, Pete.
Suddenly, Vegas was in front of his bedroom door, and he stopped for the first time since they had arrived home. It wasn’t even six thirty in the morning yet, Pete was surely sleeping, he didn’t want to disturb him.
Vegas shook the thoughts out of his head as he twisted the doorknob quietly and stepped in. He needed to see Pete, even if it was just Pete sleeping, he could be with him again.
The curtains were drawn, the room was still mostly dark, but Vegas would know his way around blindfolded. His side of the bed was the side closer to the door of their bedroom, Pete’s closer to their bathroom door. Vegas toed his shoes off near the door and walked quietly over to the bed, making to get under the covers on his side of the bed.
Vegas nearly recoiled in surprise when there was a body on his side of the bed, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him, he realized that it was Pete, and fuck, Vegas couldn’t help the intake of breath, the tears that came bursting forward into his eyes. Pete was fucking sleeping on Vegas’ side of the bed while he wasn’t there.
Pete was sleeping—Vegas was glad. He had been worried that Pete was also going to be unable to sleep and he was happy to have been proven wrong. He sat gently on the edge of the bed and smoothed some hair out of Pete’s face, caressing his cheek lightly, before he leaned down to press a kiss to Pete’s forehead.
Vegas should have anticipated it happening—Pete was a former bodyguard after all—but suddenly, Vegas found himself flat on his back on the bed, a gun pressed to his temple, Pete hovering on top of him, a million emotions swirling in his eyes before landing on recognition. “Vegas?” Pete breathed. Vegas felt the pressure of the barrel of the gun fall away from his head and instead, Pete’s entire body weight was smothering him as Pete clutched at him, at his clothes, his hair, his neck. Vegas felt wetness on his neck as he heard Pete’s shuddering sobs.
Vegas adjusted them, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Pete, Pete half in his lap, surely an uncomfortable position for him, but Pete didn’t move, just tightened his arms around Vegas. Vegas rubbed circles on Pete’s back and he could tell that Pete was trying to take deep breaths. He could wait until Pete was ready to say something more.
Finally, after probably ten minutes of just holding each other, Pete pulled back from Vegas. “How are you here? You weren’t supposed to get here until tonight, until way later, how are you here, Vegas?”
Vegas laughed and pressed their foreheads together, his fingers running again and again through Pete’s hair. “I got the deal with the Takahashis last night after quite a bit of drinking. I got back to the hotel room, and I listened to the voice note you sent me, about how Porsche was annoying you, and I just…” Vegas swallowed. Pete was already flustered and overwhelmed and crying, Vegas didn’t want to toll his emotions any further. “I couldn’t wait anymore. I told them that we were coming back to Bangkok immediately. I needed you, Pete, I needed to be with you. That was the longest two days of my life.”
Pete took his turn to laugh now, and Vegas frowned slightly. “It wasn’t even two days, baby, I think you were gone for like, forty-two hours or something.”
Vegas surged forward at this to kiss Pete. Forty-two hours without kissing Pete was forty-two more hours than he was ever going to go again, for the rest of his life, if he could help it.
Falling back into a rhythm like this was so easy—it had never been this easy in Vegas’ life before, nothing had ever been this easy. His relationship with Pete wasn’t easy, far from it. There was so much that they were constantly working through, on themselves, with each other, but Vegas loved Pete. He loved him. That was easy, it was so easy, it had been easy to love Pete since the moment Pete had kissed him in the safehouse for the first time. Being in a relationship wasn’t always easy. Being in love with Pete was.
Pete’s tongue was in Vegas’ mouth, but Vegas still had to pull away, he had to tell him, how come he hadn’t told him yet since he had gotten home? “I love you,” Vegas said softly. “I love you so much, Pete, I love you, I love you,” Vegas kissed Pete again, letting the tears fall, not caring how emotional he was, not in front of Pete, never in front of Pete.
Now Pete was taking his turn to pull away from the kiss. He pulled Vegas’ face apart from his and he locked eyes with Vegas. “I love you, Vegas. I’ll never stop saying it. I love you. Never leave me again.”
“Never,” Vegas promised, and he pulled Pete back into him. Pete melted into Vegas’ arms and Vegas maneuvered them so that Pete was straddling him. He pushed his tongue into Pete’s mouth and Pete let out a groan.
“I missed you so much,” Vegas pulled back to say as he stood up and switched their positions so that he was laying on top of Pete. Having Pete underneath him like this was a sight of which Vegas would never tire.
“I need you,” Pete gasped as Vegas leaned down and went to work on his neck, sucking dark marks into Pete’s neck, a reminder of who he belonged to, of the person who needed Pete just as much as Pete needed him.
“Now the next time Porsche sees you, you can wear these proudly,” Vegas murmured into Pete’s neck. Pete tightened the hold he had in Vegas’ hair as Vegas took hold of the hem of Pete’s shirt and pushed it up and over his head, Pete reluctantly letting go of Vegas for a moment to aid in the removal of his shirt.
“Off,” Pete whined, reaching for Vegas’ shirt and pants. Vegas grinned and sat back, ridding himself of his shirt and pants in quick succession as Pete wiggled out of his own underwear, leaving him naked beneath Vegas.
Vegas let out a sharp exhale. He had mapped out every square centimeter of Pete’s body with his hands and his tongue, but it never failed to astound him that Pete was his, that he was the only one who got to see Pete like this, to experience such intimacy with the sexiest man Vegas had ever laid eyes on.
Pete looked like a vision like this, his hair fanned out across the pillow, looking up at Vegas expectantly, his perfectly sculpted body laid out just for him. Not that he had ever taken Pete for granted, not ever, not after everything they had gone through, but this was just another reminder for him not to do so—not when Pete looked like this for him. Vegas finally remembered to speak after several long moments of his eyes roaming along Pete’s body, taking it all in. “The voice notes you sent me. The pictures you sent me. Fuck, Pete,” Vegas said, as he reached down finally, running his hands up Pete’s sides.
Pete let out a laugh that turned into a moan as Vegas thumbed over Pete’s nipples. “The pictures I sent? I mean, I was expecting to send pictures, Vegas, and I think you were expecting me to send them too, but that picture you sent of yourself in the bathroom? I sent you that voice note of me masturbating to that picture, but what I didn’t tell you was that I also masturbated while I was at the main family house while I was staring at that picture, and then again last night before I went to sleep because of that picture.”
In an instant, Vegas had grabbed Pete’s cock in one hand and was stroking it rapidly. Pete was already fully hard, and his back arched off the bed. He let out a loud moan, as Vegas leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, never stopping his movements on Pete’s erection. “You missed me that much? You missed my cock that much?” Vegas teased, and even in his haze, Pete still nodded. “One little picture did all that for you? I didn’t even have my cock all the way out,” Vegas breathed.
“Guess you should send me naked pictures more often, then,” Pete managed to get out. Vegas felt Pete’s muscles clench underneath him as Vegas played with the head of Pete’s cock.
“You still need naked pictures when you have the real thing right here, right on top of you?” Vegas asked.
Suddenly, there was a pressure on Vegas’ cock too and he realized that Pete had reached down to stroke him as well, both of their cocks leaking precome onto Pete’s stomach. “Oh, no need to send naked pictures anymore?” Pete had the upper hand now and they both knew it. He loved sending Vegas naked pictures, even if Vegas had only run to the grocery store or was having a meeting with his uncle for a couple of hours. Vegas had an album in his phone with hundreds of naked pictures of Pete that Pete had sent to him, and he still got the exact same feeling in his stomach and in his crotch when he saw a new one. He wouldn’t lose that—and Pete knew it.
Vegas growled and shoved Pete’s hand off of his cock, taking both of them in one hand, stroking them together. Pete threw his head back and moaned loudly. “Threatening me now, hm, baby?” Pete shook his head quickly, his eyes still closed. Vegas smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
Vegas couldn’t handle it anymore—he needed to be inside Pete, he was desperate. Less than forty-eight hours since he had been, but it felt like a lifetime. The lube was already on his nightstand—he barely even had to reach that far away to grab for it. Vegas reluctantly let go of his and Pete’s cocks and moved further down the bed, positioning himself more comfortably in between Pete’s legs.
When Vegas pushed Pete’s legs further apart to get a better view of his hole, he gasped aloud. His eyes flickered up to Pete’s face and, in the morning light that was beginning to shine through the curtains, Pete looked simultaneously shy and devious. Vegas ran his fingers reverently over the base of a plug that was sticking just slightly out of Pete’s hole. “You were sleeping in this?” Vegas asked quietly.
Pete nodded slowly. “Are you… mad?” he asked tentatively, and Vegas’ eyes shot up to lock with Pete’s, shaking his head so hard he was worried he might hurt his neck.
“Baby, no, never, this is so… it’s so sexy, it’s such a surprise, I’m just…” For once, Vegas was truly speechless.
Pete smiled. “I wanted to be ready for you, so that when you got home, you’d just be able to fuck me, baby. I need you.”
Vegas leaned down to kiss Pete, hard, rough, tongue and teeth. He tried to push all of his emotions out of his body and into Pete’s mouth in the kiss because fuck, he loved him so much. “I fucking love you so much,” Vegas whispered into Pete’s mouth, and as he tried to pull away, Pete wrapped his arms around Vegas’ neck and pulled him in again, kissing Vegas until Vegas’ mouth was tingling.
“I fucking love you so much,” Pete whispered back and pushed lightly at Vegas until Vegas was kneeling again. Pete spread his legs wider, shifting to present his hole better.
Vegas closed his eyes, gripping the base of his cock preventatively. The sight in front of him was almost enough to make him come untouched—one stroke of his cock or one wrong move from Pete, and he might have done so. After a moment, Vegas opened his eyes again and cracked open the bottle of lube, pouring some onto his cock and stroking himself once, twice, still so close, just enough to prepare himself to enter Pete.
With his free hand, Vegas gripped the base of the plug and, his eyes on Pete’s face the entire time, slowly removed it from Pete’s hole. Pete’s face screwed up in pleasure and his hands were clutched tightly into the sheets below him. “Fuck, Vegas, please, please, I need you inside me,” he begged, and the second that the plug was fully out of Pete’s hole, Vegas was tossing it to the side and lining himself up at Pete’s entrance, pushing inside with one thrust.
Both Vegas and Pete gasped simultaneously, and Vegas nearly fell forward on top of Pete, catching himself on his hands on either side of Pete’s head. Vegas stared down into Pete’s eyes and watched as a grin broke on Pete’s face. Vegas could feel a smile mirroring Pete’s spread across his own face. Being inside of Pete—nothing compared to the feeling. Sex with other people had been wrong before, if this was what it felt like to be inside someone. And Vegas knew—it had all been wrong before Pete. Everything he had ever experienced, slightly off-kilter, until Pete pushed his way into Vegas’ life with full force and everything was suddenly picture perfect, clear.
Vegas didn’t want to move yet, because he knew that he wasn’t going to last long, not after a surprise six-hour flight back to Bangkok and it wasn’t even seven in the morning and Vegas hadn’t slept and he could still feel the last dredges of alcohol in his system.
Pete reached up and wrapped his arms around Vegas’ neck, playing with the hair at the base of Vegas’ skull. “Are you ever going to move?” Pete teased.
Vegas breathed out a laugh. “I’m going to come so fucking fast, baby, I’m trying to savor being inside you for a minute.”
The grin that spread across Pete’s face made his dimples pop out and Vegas leaned down to plant a kiss on each one. How Vegas could find dimples sexy was beyond him, but they were on Pete, and everything about Pete was sexy so… sexy dimples it was.
Pete fucking giggled, and at that, Vegas couldn’t take it anymore and he pulled his hips back and slammed forward into Pete, forcing a choked-out moan out of his boyfriend. Vegas grinned, even though he was so close to coming, he could already feel it building in his groin. “Good?” Vegas asked.
Pete nodded frantically. “I missed you so much, Vegas, fuck, I missed having you inside me,” he moaned, and he brought Vegas’ mouth down to his, biting at Vegas’ lower lip until Vegas opened his mouth and Pete could thrust his tongue inside.
At this, Vegas took up a fast rhythm of fucking in and out of Pete, both of them panting into each other’s mouths. Vegas’ eyes rolled back in his head as Pete sucked on his tongue, so he adjusted his hips to begin slamming into Pete’s prostate with each thrust. Pete tightened around him and it astonished Vegas, as it always did, how Pete could still be so tight. He had worn a plug for hours in preparation for Vegas, yet it was as if his walls hugged Vegas’ cock like a glove.
The moans that Vegas was punching out of Pete were sending him close to the edge in a matter of moments. “I’m so close,” Vegas groaned into Pete’s mouth. “I’m so fucking close, baby, you feel so good around me, fuck.”
Pete nodded. “I’m close too, Vegas, I’m so close, fuck, you’re going to make me come, baby, please.”
Vegas forced his hands under Pete’s shoulders to get a better grip on him and he pulled Pete down onto his cock each time he thrust into him. With a shout of Vegas’ name, suddenly, Pete was coming untouched, his hands tightening in the roots of Vegas’ hair as he came. “Pete, fuck, fuck, baby, I’m coming,” Vegas shouted his orgasm as he came inside of Pete, his hips twitching and his cock spurting out more come than he thought possible.
Both Vegas and Pete took heaving breaths, coming down from their highs, and when Pete began laughing, causing both of their bodies to shake with it, Vegas couldn’t help but join him in laughter. “That might be a new record for fastest sex we’ve had,” Pete finally managed, and Vegas could only nod in agreement.
Eventually, Vegas pulled out of Pete and, ignoring Pete’s protests that he could do it himself, that Vegas was exhausted and needed to sleep, padded over to the bathroom for a warm towel to wipe them both down.
As Vegas fell back into bed, he laid on Pete’s side and buried his face in Pete’s pillow, taking in his scent, before turning his head towards Pete and pulling Pete to him, burying his face in Pete’s neck instead to get a better whiff. “Never leave me again. Ever,” Pete murmured against Vegas’ hair.
“Never,” Vegas promised, and he knew he wouldn’t.
--
Green had texted Macau that they were returning home early and Macau had been ecstatic when he had checked his phone that morning, kissing Chay goodbye before hopping into his car and making the short drive back to his family home.
Macau wasn’t particularly paying attention to any of the guards as he navigated through the halls of the compound, scrolling through his phone, the steps familiar as he made his way to his brother’s bedroom.
Suddenly, as he rounded the main hallway where their bedroom was, he heard loud shouts of “Vegas, Vegas,” coming from what sounded like the general direction of their bedroom. Macau froze at the end of the hallway and groaned. He turned around and there was Green himself, running up the stairs and wincing when he saw Macau standing in the hallway.
Macau raised one eyebrow and Green bowed in apology. “Khun Macau, I apologize, we tried to get your attention before you got up here, but well… you were distracted, and nobody really wanted to disturb you.”
“And this?” Macau gestured behind him towards his brother’s room as another loud moan echoed down the hallway. He cringed. He could certainly always do without hearing how good Hia was giving it to P’Pete.
Green sighed. “Khun Vegas and Khun Pete have been… preoccupied all morning. Since we arrived home.”
Macau glanced at his phone. It was nearly noon now, and from what Green had told him, they had landed back in Bangkok around six this morning. Nearly six hours. Somehow, Macau wasn’t actually surprised.
Macau sighed and shook his head, heading back down the hallway past Green. “Will you tell my brother that I came by if he comes out of his room at some point today? I have a feeling he isn’t going to be checking his phone much today.” Green nodded and, as much as Macau certainly didn’t like to hear P’Pete screaming his brother’s name, he still found that he had a small smile on his face as he headed for his car.