Another not-quite-fic nobody asked for because I have no time to write it properly but itās been taking over my brain for like three days.
So picture this: touch-starved, affection-starved Vegas gets drunk one night and ends up booking a professional cuddler for a 2-hour session. He keeps telling himself heās not gonna go, heās gonna ghost the guy, cancel, make an excuse, whatever. But somehow he still ends up on a strangerās doorstep, ringing the doorbell just in time for his cuddle appointment.
The cuddler, Pete, just about knocks Vegas over with his blinding, dimpled smile when he opens the door. Vegas was half-convinced, even standing there waiting to be let in, that heād take one look at the guy and chicken out. Just leg it right back to his bike before he could even say hello.
But instead heās letting Pete lead him inside, past a quaint living room and kitchen into what he calls the āhappy room.ā It has a mattress on the floor littered with big, fluffy pillows and a variety of blanketsāknit, quilted, fleece. A few fairy lights are strung up on the walls, and to one side thereās a little movie projector on a table next to an aloe plant. Itās all veryā¦cozy. Vegas stands there in the middle of it stewing in his very uncozy leather jacket and boots and skepticism while Pete walks him through the rules (no touching private areas, no kissing, no sexual advances, etc) and a few forms.
After all that, itās time to cuddle. Pete is in a T-shirt and sweats, but he reassures Vegasāwho didnāt askāthat he can be as dressed or undressed as he likes as long as his underwear stay on. Vegas stays dressed, only toeing off his boots so he doesnāt get anything dirty.
And then they. Well. They spoon.
Vegas thought he knew what spooning was, but Peteās a professional and it shows. Heās got the whole thing down to an art form. Vegas has this idea that heāll be the big spoon at least, rather than have his back to a stranger. But somehow he ends up with his head pillowed on Peteās bare arm, their feet tangled together, Peteās crotch flush against Vegasās lower back. Heās not hard. It would be weird if he were, right? Very weird. Vegas booked him for cuddles, not sex. Peteās a professional. His dick is professional.
Vegasās dick is not professional. It is, in fact, taking the cuddling very personally. The longer he lays there, cocooned in Peteās warm, lightly muscled arms, sinking into the places where their bodies align, the clearer it is that before his two hours are up, Vegas is gonna get kicked out of the cuteācute? his brain squawksāprofessional cuddlerās house for getting a boner almost the second Pete touched him.
He imagines leaping off the bed in a coordinated fury, grabbing his boots and making a run for it before Pete can notice and charge him some kind of erection fee, or worse, say something sympathetic like oh that happens to everyone or nothing to be embarrassed about. It is something to be embarrassed about. Fuck, if his dad thought he was pathetic beforeā
āYouāre very tense, Vegas,ā Pete says softly, uncritically.
āAm I.ā Itās said through gritted teeth.
āAnd youāre sweating.ā Is that Peteās nose in his hair? āYou might be more comfortable without the leather jacket, if that feels doable for you.ā
If it feels doable. Vegas wants to tie him up. Show him what feels doable right now.
Pete takes his silence for discomfort. The arm sling around Vegasās waist shifts, Peteās hand coming up to petāpet!āhis hair gently. āJust a suggestion, no pressure. You donāt have to do anything you donāt want to, Vegas, I promise.ā
Vegas grits his teeth and sits up in a huff, stripping off his jacket and flinging it in a random direction at lightning speed. Heās back in Peteās arms before his brain can catch up, cradled against his surprisingly solid chest, glaring at the fairy lights on the wall and trying not to notice the flush creeping up his neck.
He doesnāt have to see Peteās face to know heās smiling. The flush deepens. But then those arms are around him again, and it feels so nice, so cozy, that Vegas is melting into it without even realizing.
The two hours fly by. Pete has him try out different positions, talking him through each one in a gentle, soothing voice. Some people like to feel more childlike, like they have someone watching over them, Pete tells him as he arranges Vegasās head in his lap. Some people like to feel freer to give and receive affection, so Pete puts them on their sides facing each other, his head tucked into Vegasās neck. They must try a dozen different configurations, and Vegas is rock-hard for all of them, but Pete doesnāt say a word about it, even though Vegas is fully prepared to jump out the window the second he does.
At the end of it, Vegas feels split open and raw, like he just cried for hours. Pete gently extricates himself from Vegasās loose limbs and tells him to take his time ācoming downā while Pete gets him some water and a snack from the kitchen. Vegas lies there in a daze until he gets back.
When Pete asks him if heād like to book another session, Vegas is saying yes before his brain is fully back online to tell him what a ridiculous idea it is. Heās out the door, back on his bike, fastening on his helmet, when it hits him that he just signed up for regular honest-to-god cuddle appointments.
I should go knock on his door and tell him I changed my mind, Vegas thinks. At least text him to cancel.
But he doesnāt. He doesnāt knock on Peteās door, he doesnāt text him, he doesnāt do any of it. And a week later, heās back for his next session. Then again the week after that, and the week after that.
He gets hard every time. Pete doesnāt. Itās fine. Vegas is fine. Maybe itās a little insulting, because does it mean Pete doesnāt think heās attractive? But itās fine. So fine.
They try more positions. Vegas has his favorites, and Pete seems to pick up on them almost instantly. Being the little spoon is one of them, in part because itās one of the few where his dick is out of sight and nowhere close to any part of Pete. Another one is with Vegas on his back, Pete curled into his side with his head on Vegasās shoulder. It means Vegas gets to smell his hair, the lemony scent of his shampoo, while Pete traces absent shapes over his hand and arm.
But one day, a month or so in, Pete says, āIād like to try something, if youāre okay with it.ā
Vegas is maybe too okay with the thing he wants to try, which is Vegas sitting up against the wall with a pillow behind his back as Pete swings a leg over his thighs and settles right into his lap, nearly on top of his crotch. Peteās arms come up around his shoulders in a firm hug.
āGood?ā Pete asks. His breath is hot against Vegasās neck.
Vegasās fists clench and unclench at his sides. He breathes in Peteās lemony shampoo scent and thinks of the unsexiest things he can come up with. Wild boars. Smallpox. Kinn. Nothing works. Heās got a lapful of professional cuddler and he wants to fuck him so hard he cries.
āGood,ā he chokes out.
āYou can hug me back, if you want to,ā Pete says, muffled.
Vegas wants to, and his brain is losing the battle with his dick, so he does. Just a little at first, settling his hands over Peteās hips, his thumbs brushing against soft skin where his shirt has ridden up just a little.
Pete inhales sharply.
No sexual advances, Vegas thinks.
His hands creep higher. Peteās shirt is too loose. It falls away from his body too easily. It might as well not even be there.
Vegas pretends it isnāt. He heats his palms on Peteās warm, soft stomach. He maps the trim curve of his waist, measures the fit of it in the crook between his thumb and forefinger. This is okay, right? This isnāt sexual. This isāthis is just touching. Touching isnāt inherently sexual. It says it right there on Peteās website. And if Pete had a problem, heād stop him, right? The consent form had a whole paragraph about what heād do if a client overstepped.
Heās not doing anything right now, just letting out these soft puffs of breath against Vegasās neck and holding very still. So itās not overstepping.
Well, until Vegas licks him at least.
He doesnāt mean to. Heās so busy exploring Peteās soft belly and the delicate rungs of his ribcage and the gently curved underside of his titsāthatās not a private area right? heās staying below his nipplesāthat when Pete shifts, shirt slipping a couple inches down his shoulder, Vegas isnāt even thinking. He justāhis mouth just opens, right there against the little cradle of his clavicle, and his tongue finds the skin there, finds the sweat and the sweetness.
No kissing, Pete said. But that wasnāt kissing, was it? It was a lick, and not even on the mouth. Totally different. Apples and oranges. Vegas does it again, just to prove it.
Pete moans very quietly, the sound vibrating gently against Vegasās throat. āIāā
Vegas slides his hands around, to the small of Peteās back, then lower, dipping just under his sweats to the slight notch of bone where his spine meets his ass. This is where Peteās wrists would be, Vegas thinks, if he tied them behind him. Vegas could put him on his front and watch his long, pretty fingers flex in and out of fists above the rope or silk while he worked his cock into him slowly, with care. He could grip the ties in one hand, drag Pete back into each thrust, make him fuck himself on Vegasās cock.
No touching private areas, Pete said.
But when Vegas lets his fingers dig in, just a little, at the very uppermost swell of his ass, itās Pete who rocks forward with a gasp, pressing their hips flush together. His dick, slotted right against Vegasās, is unmistakably hard.
They both freeze. Vegas braces himself, struggling to figure out how to detach his mouth and hands from Peteās warm skin, waiting for Pete to send him packing.
Pete does pull away, face lifting from Vegasās neck to stare at him. His cheeks are flushed, hair rumpled, a line in his cheek from where it was pressed against Vegasās shirt collar. His bottom lip looks wet and beestung, like heās been biting it.
Vegas opens his mouth to apologize. āIāmāā
āFuck it,ā Pete says, and kisses him.
He draws back after a moment, like heās about to say something, or ask Vegas if this is okay, or just to wait to see what heāll do. Vegas doesnāt let him go far. Peteās barely found a few inches between them before Vegas gets one hand in the collar of his too-big shirt and drags him in again.
No kissing, Vegasās mind supplies helpfully, right as their mouths collide a second time. No sexual advances. No touching private areas.
Pete is doing all three like heās getting paid for it, even though he very specifically isnāt. Heās whining into Vegasās mouth, licking inside with his hands fisted in his hair. Heās grinding their hips together with filthy abandon, squirming into Vegasās hand as it slips further into the back of his sweatpants to find the hot little clench of his hole.
āYou want it?ā Vegas says against Peteās lips, one finger held right there, a suggestion.
Pete wants it. Heās so busy trying to work his hips down on that finger, trying to kiss Vegas again, it takes him a few seconds to even remember the word heās looking for: yes.
Things get very unprofessional after that. But they still cuddle afterward. Vegas is the little spoon.
we have only a few data points but I consider that enough for wild speculation re: the future developing culinary habits of theerapanyakul men who crave domesticity (and/or drama)
kinn - tries to help in the kitchen every day, is extremely earnest about it, but remains a somewhat hit-or-miss cook mostly because he would rather flirt with his boyfriend than read a recipe or watch a tutorial through to the end; porsche just laughs and laughs until finally giving kinn a set of very specific cooking tasks that he canāt fuck up too badly, which kinn accepts with genuine delight, the same way he accepted the fish-spearing lessons with delight, and they spend a lot of time making messes and laughing and chatting in the kitchen and therefore enjoy cooking together
vegas - look we have canonically seen this fucker fixing hot meals on command and using proper knife skills and mise en place for the guy he had chained up in his guest room, so obviously he has a lot of very secret, very deeply hidden pride tied up in cooking well, so when he tries he really goes for it, and is quite good at it, and makes delicious food, and everybody who is allowed to know this (which is exactly two (2) people: macau and eventually pete) knows that if they try to interfere they will get lightly stabbed
macau - until the day (after their shitty dad is long gone) he does interfere, not to get in vegasās way but to casually-not-casually ask for help learning to cook, because it seems likeā¦ you knowā¦ a nice thing to doā¦ likeā¦ fun or somethingā¦ which they both pretend to be absolutely normal about while being absolutely not normal about it at all, and they blame their damp eyes on onions and peppers and nobody gets stabbed
kim - i choose to believe, at least until offered proof to the contrary, that in spite of being the only man on this list who lives by himself and has for years, kim cannot cook anything, not a single thing, has set off fire alarms seven separate times by putting something on the stove and forgetting it, and heās irrationally pissed about it because come on, how can it be that hard, until he accidentally tells chay and chay falls off his chair laughing and teases him ruthlessly and fondly, then says something like, well, Iām not much of a cook either, we can learn together, but of course that means chay does the cooking while kim buys him fancy knives and watches with hearteyes
khun - is not allowed in most kitchens, not even with supervision because his bffs/bodyguards are just as easily distracted and unwisely experimental as he is and all enable each other, and also he refuses to do any sort of domestic chore, but has watched all the cooking shows including gbbo and to everybodyās shock reveals one day he can make exactly one (1) thing, and only one thing, and that is absolutely bakery-perfect macarons, which turn out pristine every time, and are unfailingly delicious, and nobody understands how or why this is possible and everybody is afraid to ask
today @thecookiemonster77 and i were talking about a very important topic: the ranking of kinnporsche characters according to how likely they are to bite during a fight
kinn - does not bite during fights. he fights to gain control and prefers to shoot people. he likes his gun a lot and seems to have styled his entire fighting style around looking cool with a gun.
khun - does not bite during fights because biting is gross, but he does scratch and he scratches hard. he has a very niche but chemically sound theory about the hardness of various nail polishes with respect to durability in fights.
vegas - also does not bite during fights, but is slightly more likely to bite than kinn and khun. vegas also prefers guns. he does like biting and getting bitten during sex but thatās not fighting.
pete - biting is not his preferred method of fighting, but he will deploy it if necessary. he prefers to use his fists and feet. he also quite likes biting and getting bitten during sex.
chay - prefers not to fight at all but if heās fighting and heās got a chance and he thinks of it, heāll chomp down without hesitation. does not know it yet but will soon learn that he likes a bit of playful biting during sex.
macau - will also deploy the chompers when possible and necessary. not his favorite move but it does the trick. prefers to hit people over the head with chairs. this is not suggested or supported by canon but i find it very funny.
porsche - canonical biter. good for him. learned to use any and all tools available in a fight. experienced enough to know that teeth are not always the best weapon but sometimes they are just what you need. does not favor biting during sex but likes to tease kinn with the memory of their first fight.
kim - not a canonical biter but i maintain that he would fight like a feral raccoon trapped in a dumpster if the fight required it. he breaks the skin. people scar. they deserved it.
god I love vegas so much. one day I will finish my ākinnporsche as an improv theater troupeā au and then vegasās day with pete as the ultimate āyes andā man will come
Hey there precious! Just wanted to tell you that iām the biggest fan of peteās multifunctional jacket and that youāre genuinely a cutiepie š¤
anon š„ŗ anon thank you so much you are so lovely š i've been staring at this ask and feeling so giddy about it. you are so nice and i really really appreciate the love
i am delighted you loved pete's insane infinite pocket space jacket it is a headcanon i derive so much joy from š i just think it's the kind of thing he would find cool and then suddenly he's got three guns and twelve ammo refills on his person at all times, plus a smoke bomb and a flare and maybe an MRE and one of those emergency blankets?
vegas watches pete unpack and clean and repack his jacket every few days and goes, pete, you're not about to be stranded in a military zone any time soon, what the heck is all of this, and pete just gives him a Look, because you never know, vegas!!! it pays to be PREPARED
(only two of the guns are pete's. the third is vegas's spare, and pete knows to keep it somewhere where vegas can access it at a moment's notice)
(and the first time pete fishes out his tiny little bottle of lube, and accidentally yanks out two switchblades with it, vegas laughs so hard that he pulls at his wound and has to sit down)
So I saw the first video of Mile saying this and also the photo of Apo looking up at Mile adoringly but I didn't know they were from the exact same moment š
*loops Mile saying fucking in English* be better or else. š°šŖ 2023 do not disappoint Mile Phakphum
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