Aug 7
my duuudes
i wrote a short fic, i need someone to bare witness
plz lemme know if you're down
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my duuudes
i wrote a short fic, i need someone to bare witness
plz lemme know if you're down
Overheat [36 & 37]
Read Previous Chapter Here
-
“I’m so sorry,” Pete repeated.
Vegas didn’t know what to do, so he pulled Pete into his arms, rocking him slowly as Kinn shrugged.
“It’s fine.” He scoffed. “When this is all over, I’ll get my lick back. Don’t worry about me.”
-
-
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
-
Someone was watching him.
Pete didn't know for sure. But ever since his meeting with Porsche, Vegas and Kinn, he got the sense that someone was following him, watching him, cataloging his every move. His mind kept going back to the day he was kidnapped. That was when it had all started.
With Wan and his video. It would have been so easy to draw a line from Tawan to Wan, seeing as their names sounded alike. Pete wanted this to be over so badly that he was slowly beginning to convince himself that that was enough proof. But then he'd remember that the man they'd let go of, had run to Tod. And then another voice in his head would remind him that both of them were probably in it together.
And if they were in it together, Tawan’s father had the resources to put a tail on Pete and Tod had the resources to hack into public cameras to spy on Pete. In which case, they must already have known that Pete had flipped and was feeding them fucked information. Which meant that, any day now, his video was going to be released.
He woke up every morning, checking social media for the video. And with each morning that he found nothing, the eye on his back seemed to grow stronger and stronger. A whole week after their meeting in Kinn’s hospital room, Pete hadn’t heard anything. He wondered if he should allow himself to breathe. If he should calm down and let Vegas and Kinn solve it, just Porsche had said.
Or if he ought to do something, himself. After all, he’d learned pretty quickly in life to depend on no one but himself. And Kinn. He’d grown to depend on Kinn. But Kinn was angry with him. There was a chance that Kinn wasn’t doing things in Pete’s best interest.
Not that Pete didn’t deserve it.
After dinner, that evening, as he was on his way back to his room, Vegas called.
“Are you busy?”
“No, not really.”
“I’m following a lead. Would you like to come?”
In twenty minutes, they were stationed outside an abandoned warehouse, perched on the roof, across the street from the main entrance. Vegas came, armed with a camera and a pair of binoculars.
“You take this,” he said, handing the binoculars to Pete. “If you see anything sketchy, let me know.”
While Vegas took pictures of cars that were coming and going, and also pictures of anyone entering or exiting the warehouse, Pete surveyed the area, extending the binoculars as far as it could go.
“What are we doing here?” Pete asked.
“Nop heard chatter from two different gangs that were meeting here. Which was strange, on its own. But the further he looked into it, it wasn’t really the whole gang. It was just one person or a couple of people from most gangs.” He sat up, dropping the camera for a moment. “Gambit is a new company. I’ve known from the beginning that we’re dealing with new people. But maybe I was half right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I monitored Tod this whole week and I’ve got nothing on him and Tawan. They’ve never met. They don’t do business together and Tawan doesn’t even fit Tod’s type.”
“Right,” Pete agreed. “Alpha business man. Which, Tawan is not.”
“Exactly.”
“But we saw the prisoner go straight to him.”
“Probably the same way the gang members from other gangs are meeting here.”
“You think someone is picking members that already belong to existing gangs?” Pete asked.
“Sounds like it to me,” Vegas replied, holding up his camera and taking more pictures as more people arrived. “With these pictures, we can know which gangs have been compromised.”
“Wait, so does that mean Tawan is doing this all alone?”
Vegas sighed. “Kinn seems to think Tawan has nothing to do with it. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Kinn is right. But right now, I’m not trusting anybody. Even Tod, for all I know. I mean, he doesn’t have to meet his partner to get the job done.”
True, Pete thought. They could be following the right leads. Or they could have missed the real mastermind, just because they were following the obvious.
Beside him, Vegas pulled out a packet of suppressants, popped one tablet out and swallowed it. Pete cringed inwardly, wondering if he should shut the fuck up and mind his business. He knew he should. He really ought. But before he could get a proper hold on his tongue-
"You had one of those at breakfast," Pete said.
"Yeah, so?" Vegas asked, returning the packet to his pocket as he picked his camera again.
Pete reached over and pressed the camera back down. "You had one during break and one during lunch. It's barely past dinnertime and you're having another. That's four doses in less than fifteen hours, Vegas. What's going on?"
"It's nothing."
They'd only known each other for a few months, and in that time, they hadn't always shared the heaviest of secrets with each other. Pete had been careful not to ask for too much that would set off warning bells in Vegas' head. But the few times he'd asked, Vegas had been forthcoming. He'd spoken to Pete in honesty, opening up like he couldn't wait to share his world with Pete. Like he couldn't wait to have Pete understand whatever it was he was asking about.
"I know you have no reason to trust me-"
"It's not that."
"Then what's going on? Suppressants are three times a day. The rate at which you're taking them, you'll take at least two more doses before the day runs out."
Vegas' lips trembled as he bit them, a frown appearing on his face. He looked at Pete and for a second, Pete was sure he saw the same tenderness that used to be in Vegas' eyes when he looked at Pete, before.
"It's stupid. Ken thinks I'm stupid."
"What is it?"
Vegas sighed. "I was..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was waiting for the cycle break that’s coming up soon."
"Why?" Pete asked. "You're not in the production. You can have your cycle whenever you want."
Vegas gave Pete a tired, exasperated look. “I was waiting for you, dumbass.”
The insult didn’t stick. If anything, it came out soft and indulgent, almost like a term of endearment, in the way his eyes lighted, looking right into Pete’s. Too many things were happening all at once. He was sure Vegas had just said he was postponing his rut, so it could coincide with Pete’s heat. He had just said… while looking at Pete like that. He’d just said…
Pete’s mouth went dry as his throat nearly clogged up from his heart shooting up from his chest. Considering what they’d just been through, the fact that Vegas wanted… Vegas was putting himself through the discomfort of extending his rut, just so they could spend their cycles together. Pete’s head swarmed with possibilities as they sat there, in the shadow of the boulder, staring into each other’s eyes.
He wanted to kiss Vegas, but he didn’t know how appropriate that would be. They were in a shaky place and Pete was being careful. But there Vegas was, offering a kind of permanence that Pete had never had in his life. He’d never even thought he’d want to mate with someone, let alone, do it with a member of the mafia. With a man he’d only known a few months.
And yet, here he was, contemplating spending the rest of his life with this man. Giving up all other possibilities for love by accepting and giving the bite. The bite, oh god, he thought, feeling giddy and confused at the idea of wanting it. It was such a silly idea. Pete was an omega and a career-driven actor with a bright future. He’d always shied away from shared cycles because people didn’t know he was an omega. That was a secret he was going to take to his grave.
He never imagined meeting someone who knew what he was, but wasn’t threatened by the fact that he was an omega who was also working. Someone who was romantically interested in Pete, but didn’t treat him as less. Because that was when they acted differently. Pete was a human being. Pete was a person. Until someone wanted to fuck him and suddenly, he had to know his place. Even when they thought he was a beta.
None of that had happened with Vegas. Pete couldn’t even look back on their interactions and pinpoint the moment when Vegas had found out that he was an omega. Because Vegas’ behavior never changed. Pete was Pete before Vegas knew. Pete was still Pete after.
“Say something,” Vegas said, as worry etched into his face.
“Oh,” Pete said, snapping out of it. “You wanted us to… to mate?”
“What?” Vegas asked, sounding confused. “No. No, we were going to use mouth guards. I just wanted us to spend the cycle together. Get to know each other and clear the air between us, you know?”
Mouth guards. Right, Pete thought. The things that alphas and omegas put in their mouths to keep from mistakenly biting each other. Pete nearly choked as his heart went tumbling down in his chest. How stupid was he to think that someone like Vegas would want to mate him? A lying, dishonest, untrustworthy piece of shit like Pete. Of course. He should have known. Vegas just wanted cycle sex. He wanted a wanton omega in heat who could give him unimaginable pleasure.
He didn’t want forever with Pete.
Pete shivered, feeling like someone had just doused him with cold water.
“You think I’m stupid, too,” Vegas said.
“What? No. Of course not.” He tried to laugh to dislodge the heaviness in his chest. He wished he could rewind the time to two minutes ago. Before he’d overestimated his value and started planning a life with a man who didn’t trust him. “You’re not stupid,” he said. “But, you should know though. I’m not having my cycle during the cycle break.”
“Why not?”
“I’m supposed to be a beta, Vegas. Remember?” he asked. “Wan may have forced me into a heat, two weeks before camp, but I was going to do it myself, regardless. I can’t have a cycle break while others are on break. I have to be visible. I have to go to meetings and show my face around other beta actors and employees. People have to see me moving around during the cycle break or else they’d start asking questions about me. I’ll get my next heat after the production is done.”
Vegas’ mouth fell open as he smacked his own forehead. “Ken was right. I am stupid. I should have known.”
“Hey,” Pete laughed, grabbing Vegas’ hands. “Don’t hit yourself.”
“I just thought-”
“I know what you thought. It’s okay.” And without meaning to, his treacherous mouth opened and said, “If you want, I can visit though. I can come see you during your rut.”
“Yeah,” Vegas said with a little nod. “I’d like that.”
Yeah, Pete thought, smiling even though dread filled his stomach. How could Vegas think himself to be stupid, when Pete had just committed himself to spending time with a rutting alpha? How couldn’t he see that Pete was the fool willing to put his life and career on the line for a man who didn’t trust him?
Spending time alone with Vegas in a rut? What on earth could go wrong?
-
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
-
They waited till the meeting was over and took more pictures. Vegas was sure he’d gotten everyone who entered the building through this entrance. He just wanted to be thorough. He hoped Kinn and Porsche were just as thorough, at the other entrance. Because they would be totally fucked if they missed even one person.
Two hours and almost a hundred pictures later, they packed up and started heading back to the hotel, where they met at Pete and Porsche’s room.
“Did you see any familiar faces?” Vegas asked as soon as they entered the room.
Kinn shook his head. “Maybe we’ll see better now we’re here. The screen was too tiny.”
“Tiny, how? Do you need glasses?”
“Memory card,” Kinn said, holding out his hand as Vegas gave it to him.
The room was dark and Porsche had already set up a projector on his bed that was screened against the wall. On Pete’s bed, Kinn’s laptop sat, waiting for Kinn to return.
“What…” Pete began. “What’s going on?”
“We’re making notes of the faces we recognize and cataloging the pictures as evidence for their gang leaders.”
“What makes you think the leaders didn’t send those people to represent them?” Porsche asked. “I mean, maybe they’re all planning to join up.”
“We’re not the only ones who’ve been hit in the past year. Nop said a lot of lower gangs have been losing territory, and a lot of the high prestige ones have been losing business deals. Leaders aren’t happy. They want to know where their leaks are.”
“Come. Sit,” Porsche offered Vegas.
Picture after picture, they marked the number, the face in the picture and the gang they belonged to. Seeing as Kinn had put in his card first, it was going to take a while to get to Vegas’ card. But that was okay. They had all night anyway. With Vegas offering commentary, while Porsche controlled the projector and Kinn took notes, Vegas couldn’t help wondering why Pete was so quiet.
Took him a moment to remember that Kinn and Pete were still in a weird place. And Kinn was sitting at the foot of Pete’s bed, while Pete had curled into himself at the head of the bed, placing his pillows between himself and Kinn like it was some worthy barrier. Wanting to comfort him, Vegas took off his shoes and slipped behind the barrier with Pete as Pete looked at him, startled.
“Shhh,” he said to Pete before turning back to the projector.
“Don’t do anything funky, over there,” Porsche said. “I know the room is dark and all, but we can still hear that shit.”
Vegas rolled his eyes as Kinn turned back to look at them with disgust in his face.
“Oh, for fuck sake,” Kinn said, grabbing his laptop and moving to Porsche’s bed. “Seriously, I’m in the room.”
“Don’t be weird. We’re not doing anything. Pete, were we doing anything?”
“No,” Pete answered, honestly.
“Yeah right,” Porsche said with a scoff.
“Can we get back to the business at hand?” Vegas asked, gesturing at the screen.
Porsche flicked to the next picture and Kinn sat up.
“Wait.”
“What?” Vegas asked.
“I can’t really see the face on that person, but I recognize that green and blue coat. Go back.”
Porsche went to the previous picture, but the person in the green and blue coat was still backing the camera. So Porsche went back about three more pictures before they found one where the man was facing the camera, but he wasn’t at the center of the picture.
“Can you zoom in?”
Porsche shifted the focus to the corner where the man was and zoomed in on the picture to reveal the face.
“Oh wow,” Vegas said, not even bothering to be surprised by what he was seeing.
“Who’s that?” Pete asked.
“It’s-” Vegas began to say as Kinn beat him to it.
“It’s Tawan. I recognized the coat because he was wearing it when I saw him a few hours ago.”
“You saw him today?” Porsche asked, a frown etched in his face.
“It-it wasn’t like that. I wanted to find out what he knows about his father’s activities.”
“I hope you didn’t tell him too much about what we know, given that he’s the fucking mastermind.”
“Porsche-”
“Please don’t defend him right now.”
“I’m not,” Kinn said, almost sounding like he was pleading. “We know who it is now. We have a face to put on the issue. I’m not going to defend him.”
“What did he tell you?” Porsche asked. “What did he want?”
“I don’t know. He’s never really asked me for anything.”
“Are you sure?” Vegas asked. “Because if he’s the mastermind, then I get why he sent Pete into my business.”
“You do?” Pete asked.
“He’s going after gangs. He didn’t need to send someone into the main family because he plans to marry into it. But he sent you to me.” Vegas turned to Kinn. “We’re family, but we don’t operate like it.”
“You’re right,” Kinn agreed. “Your father has been adamant about keeping the minor family’s accounts separate from the main family.”
“We run our own deals, our own territories. Even our allies aren’t always main family allies.”
“You’re like two different gangs with the same name,” Porsche said.
“Exactly. Even if Tawan knew he was going to become Kinn’s omega, there was no guarantee his power would extend to the minor family.”
“We know what he wanted me to do with you,” Pete said. “But what’s his plan with Kinn been? He’s been all over the place.”
“Kinn, please try to remember,” Porsche said. “What is the one thing he keeps talking about?”
Kinn shook his head, as his brows furrowed in concentration.
“He asked me to keep his father locked up.”
“What?” Vegas asked, sitting up.
“Yeah,” Kinn said with a shrug. “The councilman is in my basement.”
As Vegas laughed at the absurdity of it all, Pete said, “Is he going to try and frame you for kidnapping?”
“That won’t help him if he wants Kinn to marry him into the family,” Porsche offered.
“So what’s he been asking for?”
“I think…” he said, still looking unsure. “He’s mentioned my father a few times.”
“How?”
“When we were locked up, he pointed out that Papa knew where I was but did nothing about it. Then when we had drinks earlier today, he asked me to cut Papa off and take control of the entire family business.”
Vegas wasn’t sure whether to be pissed or impressed, so he settled on being both. Because Tawan was a fucking genius.
“He wanted you to cut out the most important person in your life,” Vegas said.
“What?” Kinn asked.
“Think about it. You don’t cough unless you discuss it with your father.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He’s right,” Porsche said. “You’re an obedient son. You’ve always been an obedient son.”
“If I wanted to marry you and rule alongside you, I wouldn’t want your controlling father anywhere near our empire,” Vegas said.
“Wait,” Kinn said, turning from the projector to face all of them. “You’re saying he did all that… abducted me and kept me for a week, only to release me just because he wanted me to hate my father?”
“It worked, Kinn,” Porsche said. “That day I came to see you at the hospital, right after we got you back, I heard you speaking to your father in a way I’ve never heard you speaking to him before in my entire life.”
That was news to Vegas.
“You raised your voice at Uncle Korn?”
“It was a conversation.”
“Your father asked you to take an omega as a mate and you told him no.”
“Fuck, you heard that?” Kinn asked, looking distraught.
“You really told him no,” Vegas asked, wondering where the boldness had come from. Because it was an unspoken rule. Theerapanyakuls didn’t talk back to their fathers. Ever.
“He was being unreasonable.”
Vegas couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in shock because since when did Kinn talk about his father like that?
“See?” Porsche said. “Tawan already got what he wanted.”
“He made valid points.”
“I’m not disputing that,” Porsche said. “But if his goal was to sever ties between you and your father, he’s done well.”
“Why though?” Pete asked.
“Why what?” Vegas asked.
“He’s an omega,” Pete explained. “He had Phi-Kinn tied up and at his mercy. Why didn’t he just bite him instead of letting him go? Seems a bit convoluted for an omega who could control his alpha with a single bite.”
Once again, they were back at the same question that had plagued them since that first day at the hospital. Why hadn’t Tawan bitten Kinn?
Porsche smacked his bed as he sat up with a smile on his face.
“He’s not an omega.”
“What?” Vegas and Pete asked as Kinn looked at Porsche with worried confusion.
“That’s it,” Porsche said.
“That’s a pretty big leap.”
“It never made sense. He was in heat. He couldn’t control himself. Kinn, that’s what you said. If he had no control, then why didn’t he just bite you? At least, by mistake.”
“Why would he claim to be an omega and lose his job?”
“Because he was coming after you and we all know that Kinn only fucks with omegas.” Porsche jumped up from his bed. “I’m smart. Look at me,” he said, pointing at himself.
Considering the things they’d figured out about Tawan, it wasn’t so far-fetched to imagine that he’d hatched such a plan more than a year ago. Because Korn had started putting out feelers for Kinn’s mate, two years ago. The timeline matched up. He’d planned this whole thing and waited. If this went off without a hitch, Tawan Apinya would be the king of the Thailand underworld with a Theerapanyakul alpha on his arm.
“What about his pheromones?” Kinn asked. “He was feverish. He looked dead on his feet. He…” Kinn hesitated. “How come he was… open… down there? I never saw him prep himself. Not once.”
“Did he ever go out of sight?” Pete asked. “For more than a few minutes? Because you can prep yourself and use omega-treated lubricants to trigger an alpha, but also to keep it loose down there.”
Kinn sat, blinking steadily as a look of devastated horror crept into his face.
“What is it?”
“He locked himself in the bathroom for hours.” His voice trembled as he spoke. “He pretended that he was protecting himself from me and hid in there. The next time the door was opened, he was smelling like he was in heat, looking like he was in heat.” He looked at Porsche like he wanted to cry. “He… felt… like he was in heat.”
“Oh Kinn,” Porsche said, getting back on the bed and crawling to Kinn, just as Kinn got up from the bed.
“It’s not like I’m…” he rubbed his hand over his face. “I know where you’re about to go with this conversation, Porsche. Let’s not do that, right now. Please. I c-I can’t-”
“Okay,” Porsche agreed, nodding. “Alright. We don’t have to.”
Vegas could see that his cousin was a few seconds from breaking, but they had to push on. They’d made progress and none of them could leave that room without a proper plane, or else someone would go and do something to ruin everything.
“You have to play along, Phi-Kinn,” Vegas said.
“The fuck?” Porsche replied, eyes snapping to Vegas with anger. “He’s not going anywhere near that fucking snake.”
“I have to,” Kinn said, slowly sitting back on the bed.
“Listen to me-” Porsche said.
“He has Pete’s video,” Kinn said.
Porsche’s mouth shut, immediately.
“Phi-Kinn has to stay away from his father and meet with Tawan whenever he calls until we can find a way to get rid of that video and every single copy of it.”
“Until then, Kinn has to… he has to be around his… he has to talk to Tawan like nothing happened?” Porsche asked, horrified.
“It sounds bad, Porsche. But it’s what we’ve got.”
“I’m so sorry, Phi-Kinn,” Pete said, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at Kinn. “Because of me-”
“Don’t even say that,” Kinn said. “You’re my prized jewel, remember?” Kinn tried to sound lighthearted, but it came out dry and pained.
“I’m so sorry,” Pete repeated.
Vegas didn’t know what to do, so he pulled Pete into his arms, rocking him slowly as Kinn shrugged.
“It’s fine.” He scoffed. “When this is all over, I’ll get my lick back. Don’t worry about me.”
Vegas was utterly relieved to hear that. Because if they were going into battle, he didn’t want a traumatized alpha at the helm. He wanted a pissed one that was out for vengeance. And judging by the look in Kinn’s eyes, Vegas was grateful that he was going to get the latter.
The enemy is inside of me
Here you go 🥳
https://archiveofourown.org/works/45837925
Thought this was a very Pete song, so I made something.
... but red is mine [11]
Read Previous Chapter Here
___
"There’s nothing left.”
***
Pete ran beside the stretcher that carried Vegas. There’d been a misunderstanding with the hospital crew when he’d called for help. They’d arrived with the stretcher to pick someone up. The fact that that person was Vegas had given them pause. But Pete didn’t care. Fuck their orders. Pete’s gun was loaded and ready, if they weren’t. If they hadn’t taken him to the hospital, Pete was going to start killing medical practitioners till someone did something.
As he got to the bigger doors, they blocked him from going further. The gun he’d been pointing at the doctor moved to the nurse in his way. His eyes shifted, watching the stretcher that carried Vegas away.
“Move,” Pete said to them.
“You can’t go in there. You sure as hell can’t take a gun into the operating room.”
“Get out of my fucking way.” He pressed the gun into the nurse' head.
Pamela, a middle-aged nurse that Pete had known for years. She stood her ground, staring back at him, daring him to pull the trigger. Breathing hard, Pete’s hand shook. He could shoot her. She was standing between him and Vegas and Pete just… He yelled, pulling the gun back as he stepped away from her.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s from the minor family and everyone’s-”
“No one will hurt him, Pete,” Pamela said. “I’ll make sure you get hourly updates. Do you hear me?”
Pete nodded, wanting to believe her. Because if no one said anything in an hour, Pete was taking this gun and heading in there.
“Look at me,” Pamela said, drawing Pete’s attention from where he’d been looking in the direction Vegas was taken. “Take a seat, Pete.” She pulled Pete to the nearest bench seats in the waiting room. “Breathe with me.”
“What?”
“In,” she said, inhaling and waiting for Pete.
Unable to concentrate, Pete breathed in.
“Deep,” she said.
Pete took another breath.
“And out.”
Pete let it out.
“In again.”
He obeyed.
“And out.”
He let it out.
“That’s good,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down his arms. “That’s good. You’re no good to him if you collapse. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s not my blood.”
“Pete-”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll check you out, anyway.”
Pete had to sit there, tapping his foot against the floor as she bandaged his head and made him take off his shirt. Turns out, his shirt was bloodied up all over the back. But he wasn’t hurt. His main injury was a cut to the shoulder. Considering the damage Pete had caused, this nick in the shoulder was nothing.
He sat through the first hour, when another nurse came out to tell him that they’d taken out the bullets and the doctor was closing up. Taking a deep breath like Pamela had shown him, Pete leaned against the back of his bench. That was good news. Good news was good. The bullets were gone. If there was a complication, they would have said so.
This was totally fine.
“Find someone else to take you to eat.”
***
***
Pete opened his eyes.
It took him a minute, but everything came rushing back as he remembered that Vegas had been shot. And was in surgery. What was the time? He had to have been out by now. Why had no one woken him up?
When he sat up, he noticed the two men standing, with their backs to him.
Recognizing their awful, flowery shirts, Pete’s heart hammered in his chest. Because it couldn’t be. The main family had won. Why were minor family guards hanging around randomly? Were they here to collect Pete? If that was the case, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
Reaching over to the stand where there was a vase, he stretched to get it. The bench he was sitting on dragged against the tile as one of the men turned around. By the time the second one turned, Pete gave up on stealth and jumped to grab the vase, chucking the flowers out of it.
When he faced the men, both of them had bowed low before him.
“Khun-Pete,” one of them said as they stood.
“Eh, what now?” Pete asked. He couldn’t have heard that clearly.
“We were asked not to wake you,” he said. “Khun-Vegas is out of surgery. Khun-Macau is with him. If you’d like us to take you to him.”
Gripping the vase, he stepped behind the bench to give himself more space between the men. Even though he could probably take them, Pete was tired and hungry and honestly, he’d take a chance to run over fighting two or more minor family guards, at the moment.
“Why are you here?”
“Khun-Porsche asked us to wait for you.”
Khun-Porsche? What the fuck had happened while he was asleep? Oh no.
“Where’s Khun-Kinn?” Pete asked, fearing the worst.
“He’s coordinating the clean-up, Khun-Pete.”
Pete flinched again when they called him like that, again.
“Can we take you to see Khun-Macau?” the man asked.
Pete nodded, refusing to walk in front of them, and holding onto the vase. They didn't have to walk long. Pete had barely begun to lower the vase when he noticed two more guards stationed by a bedroom door.
As soon as they saw him, they opened the door and Pete didn’t even hesitate. They said Vegas was in there. Rushing in, he noticed the body in the bed. He was really still alive.
“Pete!” Macau screamed from the chair in the corner.
The next thing Pete knew, Macau was throwing his arms around Pete’s neck, hugging him and sobbing. Not knowing what to do, Pete let go of the vase as it clattered to the floor at his feet.
“Are you alright?” Pete asked.
“They said you brought Vegas. And a gun,” Macau said, sniffing. “They locked me in here and won’t let me leave.”
Pete pulled him away, wondering if he’d also just walked into a prison. He’d chosen Vegas. And right now, all of Vegas’ people were in the room. If the main family had a problem with them, it would be sensible to keep them all locked away like this.
However, the guards at the door weren’t main family guards. They were minor family guards. So, if the main family had won, and the minor family guards were still walking around, freely, what the fuck was going on?
“Khun-Pete?” the guard from before said, stepping into the room with a small box in his hand.
Pete took it from him and the man quickly withdrew, shutting the door behind him.
“Who locked you in here?” he asked, opening the box to find a phone, a black card and a note.
“Porsche, that asshole,” Macau grouched, walking away with a pout.
“Porsche? He ordered minor family guards to keep you in here? And they obeyed?”
“Apparently he has my dad’s ring now.”
That didn’t make sense. Pete opened the note and it just said, “call me.” Pete recognized the ugly penmanship.
He took out the phone and dropped the box, heading to the door to test out a theory. As the door opened, all four guards turned to him. Was Pete also a prisoner? He stepped out between them and they watched him. He pointed at the phone.
“I want to make a call.”
The men did nothing to stop him. Still testy, he walked down the corridor and truly, they didn’t stop him. So, he called the number.
“Pete,” a weary voice sounded through the phone.
“Khun-Pete?” Pete asked. “What the fuck?”
“Look, if they’re calling me Khun-Porsche, you have to suffer it too.”
“Macau said you locked him in Vegas’ room and that you have the minor family ring. What did I miss?”
Porsche groaned.
“Keep him there, Pete. Keep him safe. At least till his brother wakes up. Vegas, I can handle. Macau?” Porsche paused. “Do you know that little asshole punched me in the face?”
Pete scoffed, looking back at the guards. Macau and Porsche really didn’t like each other.
“Did you deserve it?” Pete asked.
Porsche sighed, sounding a hundred years older.
“I truly have no idea. I don’t even know what I’m doing. One moment I’m nobody, now they’re calling me fucking Sir.”
“Khun-Kinn?”
“He’s around here somewhere.”
“Khun-Tankhun?”
“Oh, he’s here, too.” Porsche laughed. “He dropped off some food for everyone, but the minor family guards aren’t eating it. I think they’re waiting for me to start eating so that they know if it’s poisoned or not.”
“Can’t blame them. Khun-Tankhun has been very vocal about his hatred for anything minor-family-related.”
“How are you doing?” Porsche asked. “I heard you pointed a gun at Pamela.”
“Oh fuck,” Pete sat on the floor, in the hallway. “I didn’t even see that she was the one until she started speaking.”
“She’s holding a grudge.”
“I’ll buy her some flowers.” As he thought of buying things, he remembered the card. “And the black card, Porsche?”
“Oh, it’s for you,” he said quickly.
“I didn't quite catch that.”
“It’s for you. You know. Just nothing. You know.”
“Porsche.”
“You’re minor family now, right?” Porsche said, firmly. “You’re with Vegas. And you have to take care of them, so you need money.”
“Like a handout?”
“Like an allowance. For that expensive, overgrown demon that’s in Vegas’ room.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a black card?”
“I don’t know. Rich people shit?”
“I don’t know what rich people do.”
“And you think I do?”
“You’re the head of the minor family.”
“And you’re Vegas Theerapanyakul’s fucking soulmate.”
Whatever words were in Pete's head died out. Quickly.
“I’m sorry if that sounded harsh,” Porsche said. “But you chose him. You can’t just be Pete anymore than I can just be Porsche. We chose this shit.”
“What am I…” Pete hesitated. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Stay with him? I guess?” Porsche replied. “I don’t know. Oh god, Pete.” Porsche sighed again for the millionth time. “We fucked around and found money. Yippee,” he said, sounding anything but celebratory.
“He’s my soulmate,” Pete said out loud.
“He is,” Porsche agreed, sadly.
“I can do this. I guarded Tankhun. I can look after two brash, angry boys.”
“Hell yeah, you can.”
Pete stood up, using the wall.
“I’ll call you later,” Pete said, heading for the room. “Let’s see if our overgrown demon needs anything.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Pete cut the call as he entered the room.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, as Macau nodded.
Pete gave him the phone to call for food as he picked up the black card and went to sit beside the sleeping Vegas.
Soulmate.
Vegas Theerapanyakul’s soulmate.
Pete breathed in, held it, and then breathed out. He’d faced worse odds in his life and he always came out on top. Pete wasn’t a shrinker. He sure as fuck wasn’t going to run from this. It didn't make any difference if he’d run after Vegas when Vegas was awake, to know that he was in such a vulnerable state.
The plan had always been to be with and protect. That didn’t change. If anything, Vegas needed him more now, more than ever before. And like always, Pete was not about to disappoint his people. His person. His Vegas.
“And where have you been?”
***
***
Vegas was in and out of his coma for three days, but on the fourth, he opened his eyes, staring up at Pete, quietly.
“I should call a doctor,” Pete said.
But Pete made no move to leave. If he got up, Vegas might slip away again.
“Hi,” Vegas said.
“Hey,” Pete replied.
Vegas smiled.
“I’m awake.”
“I can see that,” Pete said, feeling a bright burbling in his chest. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone shot me four times.”
“Did you count?”
“Force of habit.”
“People shoot you a lot?”
“Not recently, no,” he said, his voice scratchy and dry. “You should probably call the doctor.”
“Right,” Pete said, getting up from the bed to push the button hanging above Vegas.
When he sat back down, there was so much he wanted to say. He couldn’t. He had no idea why. And Vegas, well Vegas laid, tongue-tied as well, because he wasn’t trying to make any conversation. He just stared. But, at least, Vegas was recovering from multiple gunshot wounds. What was Pete’s excuse?
Just as he opened his mouth to say anything at all, no matter how stupid, the door opened and the doctor came in with two nurses. Quickly, quietly, Pete got out of the way. They were here to save Vegas. The last thing Pete wanted to do was hinder them.
As they tinkered around, Pete couldn’t take just standing there. So he went to get some fresh air. He wandered around the hospital and didn’t even know when he’d gotten in the car and driven to Macau’s favorite food take-out joint.
By the time he got back, Vegas was laid up in bed. His eyes were closed, but at least, this time, his position was different. Which meant that he wasn’t going to slip back into a coma. He was out of the woods, now. And if Pete waited, Vegas’ eyes would be open.
Which, weirdly enough, when Pete turned from opening the blinds, Vegas was awake.
“Are you up?”
“For a while now,” Vegas answered. “Where have you been?”
“I bought Macau some food. In case he wakes up hungry.”
Pete got closer, sitting on the bed beside Vegas.
“Why are you still here?”
“I can’t run off anywhere.”
Not that he hadn’t thought of it. Because he could go home. His grandmother was more worried now that Pete didn’t have a job, than when she’d been when he had a very dangerous job. But then again, she had no idea that said job included getting shot at, regularly.
And, like Porsche said, Pete chose this. Pete wanted this. Where was he supposed to run off to? He didn’t want to be anywhere else. He wanted to be here.
“If you run now,” he said, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I’m alright with that.”
Vegas frowned, reaching out, unable to get close enough. Pete met him halfway. Vegas grasped Pete’s hands, his actions betraying the words that he spoke next.
Right, Pete thought. Like that was ever going to happen.
“I don’t want to be your burden.”
Pete felt like rolling his eyes. Because he’d seen this before. From Vegas. Leaving a key he didn’t want Pete to use. Walking away from Pete, seconds after begging for Pete to want him. Asking Pete to find someone else to take him to eat. Vegas did protest too much.
And he couldn’t even have the sense to, at least, look like he believed the bullshit he was saying. How could you tell someone to leave you, then look like you’d break if they did? Shit didn’t work like that.
“I want to follow my heart.”
“But-”
“I want to be here, Vegas,” he said, shifting closer, holding Vegas’ hand with both of his. “Stop pushing me away.”
“I’m not saying I want you to go.”
“Then what the fuck are you saying?” Pete asked him, softly.
Vegas’ face scrunched up even, as he struggled not to cry.
“From now on,” he said. “You’re no longer my pet.”
“That’s not what you-”
“You’re my soulmate, Pete,” Vegas said, tears in his eyes. “You’re the most important person in my life.”
Oh, Pete thought with a smile. Because this constipated man named Vegas, was trying to communicate like a human being. If that wasn’t the cutest thing.
When Vegas kissed him, Pete responded. Vegas held on, kissing Pete like it was a seal to a promise between. Because he wanted Pete to see him, hear him. Feel him. And Pete did. With all of his heart.
“There, there,” Macau said, giggling behind Pete.
As they broke apart, Pete realized that Porsche was right. Macau really was an overgrown demon.
He got up from his seat, coming to finagle his way between them. Because it was Macau. He may have been the tallest person in the room, but he was still just a child. A child who cried in his sleep until Pete bundled him up. A child who worried that his brother would die. A child who had just lost his father.
“That’s pretty fast.”
What a traumatized family Pete had just inherited.
“Come, don’t be shy,” Vegas said, as if he knew Pete was about to stand up, to give the brothers a moment together. He dragged Pete into his lap.
“I’ll join you,” Macau said, hopping into place as he lay on both Pete and Vegas.
And okay, maybe it didn’t have to be so sad and twisty all the time. Pete could get used to this. It wasn’t something beyond his abilities. And he wasn't alone. He wasn't even in new waters. He’d just… extended his circle to include more people. His people. Pete was built for this. And he wanted it.
Maybe he’d gotten it through pain and blood. Maybe he’d found Vegas in the worst possible way. But lying there, with Vegas, as Macau snuggled into Pete’s back, Pete couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without these people. He didn’t want to imagine it.
There was nowhere else to go, because Pete didn’t want to go anywhere else.
Here.
With Vegas and Macau.
Pete’s new home.
Overheat [28/29]
Read Previous Chapter Here
-
When he heard the door to his room open and close, something broke inside of Vegas. Because of course Pete wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t stoop so low.
To him, Vegas was never worth the trouble anyway.
-
-
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Pete walked into the minor mansion with the ever-present feeling of dread. Porsche had promised his apology to Vegas’ father but Pete hadn’t gotten around to it just yet. He wondered what would happen if that man saw Pete now, if he looked out a window and saw Pete walking into his home without an escort, without Vegas, without an apology.
If he could, Pete would have offered it sooner. But he had other things on his mind as he let himself into Vegas’ wing, closing the door to the corridor gently as he made his way to the dungeon.
“Vegas has my man,” Wan had said when he called Pete. “Get him out of there.”
It was a test. It had to be. Pete had listened to the twenty hours he’d sent. The very same twenty hours that had led to the capture of one of Wan’s men. Vegas set him up and it had yielded fruits. Even Vegas had said so when he’d come to find Pete. He had a man in his dungeon that he was torturing for information and he wasn’t getting anywhere with him.
If the recording had been a trap, Wan would know by now and this little, not-so-little request had to be a test to see if Pete was still loyal. If Pete had had a say, he would have asked Vegas to not be so obvious. They’d had one chance to fool Wan and they’d failed. And now, Pete was the one bearing the consequences.
“What do you expect me to do?” Pete had asked.
“I don’t know,” Wan replied. “You don’t have to do anything. You can watch your career go down the drain when our lovely home video is uploaded for the whole country to see.”
Pete hesitated when he got to the dungeon door. The last time he’d been here, he’d been dragged in, his knee knocking against the frame as his ankle toe knocked against the sharp divider on the ground. Khun-Kun had been ruthless, taking Pete by the hair as he slammed his face into a wall and everything went dark.
When he’d awoken, he was strung up, dangling from the ceiling, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer pants. His jaw was swollen, one eye couldn’t open and the skin on his chest and back hurt like they’d been flogged till he peeled. He’d been unconscious for most of it. But that didn’t stop Khun-Kun when he realized Pete was, once again, conscious.
Pete opened the door and peeped into the dimly lit room. Entering in, he gently closed the door. With every step he took, he couldn’t help walking the path his unwilling body had taken, while he was dragged in here. A reminder that Vegas was cut from unfriendly stock. Pete had been fucking with a man who was capable of just as much as his father was, if not more.
Closing his eyes to bring some peace to his mind, Pete focused on why he’d come. The pillars in the dungeon hide most corners, but by the time he came around the second one, he found a man seated in a metal chair, his hands and feet bound to the ground, where spikes from the binds grazed against his skin. He was just as naked as Pete had been. He’d bled onto the floor, with his head hanging over his chest as spit drooled from his mouth.
And this… this wasn’t Khun-Kun’s doing. This was all Vegas. This was the doing of the man Pete had casually fucked to get information. Once again, he was reminded of just how screwed he could have been if Vegas wasn’t being so lenient with him.
Without wasting time, Pete found a bunch of keys hanging on the wall and went to the man’s foot to unlock the first ankle. The clanging of the keys startled him into consciousness as he tried to shift away.
“Shhhh,” Pete said. “Please be quiet.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” the man said, bitingly as he flinched in pain.
“I’m here to help you,” Pete whispered, raising the keys to the man’s eye level.
As his eyes moved from the key to Pete’s face, they widened in shock.
“Pete Saengthem?” he asked.
“Wan sent me.”
“Oh thank god,” he said. “Get me out of here.”
Trying to steady his hands, Pete found the first key for the first lock.
“How did they capture you?”
“You gave us false info,” he accused.
“It’s from the same source as everything else I’ve ever given you,” Pete said, unwilling to reveal that he’d been compromised. If he did, he wouldn't be useful anymore. If he wasn’t useful, Wan would release that video.
“Then you’ve been made,” the man said as his second foot was unlocked.
“No, I haven’t.”
The man stamped his foot and Pete looked up at him in surprise.
“If he hasn’t confronted you about it, it’s because he wants to feed us fake information. You’re compromised.”
It was foolish to keep arguing this point, because even Wan seemed to think so. If Pete wanted to survive, he had to come at this from another angle.
“What do I do?” Pete asked, mouth hanging open in feigned fear. “If he knows… if he gave me false info, then I’m… I’m not safe here. I can’t come back here.”
The man grabbed Pete’s face with his only free hand that was covered in scabs and dried blood.
“You have to stay.”
“My life is in danger-”
“Wan needs you. You must stay, or else.”
One problem solved , Pete thought as he nodded, looking into the face of a man that was attempting to sacrifice Pete for his own objectives. When Pete unlocked his second hand, the man flexed his fingers, flinching with every single bit of movement.
“Here,” Pete said, picking one of Vegas’ leather coats from the wall. “Cover yourself with this and follow me.”
Carefully, following the hidden door at the end of the corridor, Pete led the man through the green-walled tunnel that he’d been shown. He remembered coming to confront Vegas and forcing Vegas to see him. He’d been so sure Vegas would punch him or shoot him, but Vegas had reacted frantically, asking the guard at the gate to bring Pete in through this secret tunnel so that his father wouldn’t see Pete. He’d been trying to protect Pete.
Even as he was mad and betrayed, he didn’t want to see Pete suffer.
As they got to the mouth of the tunnel, Pete turned in the direction of a round, metal gate that didn’t lead to the main gate. Retrieving the keys, he opened up the gate for the man. When he moved to leave, Pete stopped him.
“I’m risking my life here,” he said.
“I know.”
“You’re asking me to stay in danger,” he said. “I hope Wan knows this.”
“I’ll let him know.” As he walked through the gate, he turned to Pete. “Thank you.”
“Go,” Pete said, as the man walked into the night, disappearing into the bushes beyond the gate.
He’d done his part. Wan wanted his man back. They knew his cover was blown, but he was, at least, still useful.
At least, Pete hoped, he was still useful enough to keep his secrets secret.
***
After he’d locked up the gate and made his way back through the tunnel, he let himself into Vegas’ room. As he closed the door, he rested against the frame, tired, worn out and even if he didn’t want to admit it, a little afraid.
Bracing himself, he pushed away from the door. Any moment spent in Vegas’ presence, had become a source of discomfort. Where they’d found companionship in the past, Pete found nothing but hesitation and physical avoidance. At least Vegas was talking to him again. Vegas was seeking him out, asking him about Wan. At least Pete could take solace in that. But beyond that, there was nothing else.
Moving close to where Vegas stood at his desk with his back to the door. He’d turned his laptop around to face him.
“How’s it going?” Pete asked, peeking over Vegas’ shoulder.
“It’s alright,” Vegas said with a shrug.
Pete stood beside him, looking down at the video footage on the screen of Vegas’ laptop. It was a very shaky camera, galloping from side to side as if attached to the collar of a person’s clothing. The camera was moving quickly through the dark evening, stopping only when the sounds of other people could be heard, before he started moving again.
When Pete looked away from the laptop, he found Vegas watching him, intently. Going red from head to toe, Pete forced himself not to look away. Having Vegas’ attention was a rare occurrence, these days. He wanted to bask in it, a little. He wanted to let him remind him of when things were good and easy between them.
“What?” Pete inquired, carefully.
“I don’t know what to think of you when you lie so easily.”
Unable to hold Vegas’ gaze, Pete blinked, looking up at the ceiling.
“What was I supposed to do?” he asked.
“Exactly what you did,” Vegas replied. “You sold the lie to him and now he’s going back to Wan with a coat that has a camera on the collar.” Vegas gestured at the footage before them of the man who was still running through the woods.
“Then why are you saying it like I did something wrong?” Pete could stop frustration from seeping into his voice. “Why are you-”
“Because I’m not supposed to have people around me who can lie better than I can.”
Pete laughed, looking away as he wiped away the wetness gathering in his eyes.
“I only did what you asked me to. If you can’t trust me, why am I here?”
“Because I need you.”
“Right,” Pete said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Since I’ve done what you needed , I’ll see myself out.”
As he turned to go, Vegas held him by the neck, pulling Pete to him in a hard, clashing kiss. Excellent reader of people that Pete was, he hadn’t seen that coming. He didn’t understand how Vegas had gone from avoiding him, to staring at him to kissing him so desperately in the span of a few seconds.
Pulling away, Pete wanted to clear his head. Assess the situation. Ask Vegas what the fuck was going on. But as he pulled away, Vegas went right to him, keeping their lips locked as he slipped his tongue right into Pete’s mouth, fingers threading through Pete’s hair at the base of his neck. A soft reminder of Vegas’ loving caress.
Unable to help himself, Pete melted into the kiss, wrapping his hands around Vegas and allowing himself to have this. He didn’t have to think about it. He’d obsessed over it enough for weeks now. He’d missed this, longed for it, wished that Vegas would spare him a tiny glance.
And now that Vegas had given him this much, Pete was going to take anything he could get.
At least until Vegas was shaken back to his senses and remembered that he didn’t want Pete anywhere near him anymore.
-
-
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Vegas moaned, sucking on Pete’s lips as Pete’s shock drained right out of his body. When Pete kissed his jaw, moving down to Vegas’ neck, he had to bite his lips to keep from saying Pete’s name. He was desperate for Pete’s touch, but it hadn’t been so long that he was ready to abandon all reason and call on Pete like a weak-kneed fool. It was enough that he was hard and aching and keening right into Pete’s hands, as it was.
When Pete started fussing at Vegas’ belt, Vegas helped, trying his best to get out of his jeans just so Pete could do whatever he wanted to do. Vegas hadn’t been abstaining. He’d been fucking other men in the time since he’d stayed away from Pete. But none of them had managed to ignite this feeling of helpless lust, to the point that Vegas was sure he’d lose his mind if Pete stopped touching him.
And yet, even with how good it felt, there was a sharp, painful tugging at Vegas’ chest. Every time he looked down at the man before him, Vegas wanted to cry. How he’d let himself be fooled into falling for someone who saw him as nothing but means to an end. Pete had been so easy. He’d been so accepting of everything Vegas was. He’d offered himself up on a platter.
Only because someone was threatening him. He’d come on to Vegas, because there was a gun to his head. And Vegas had fallen for it, quickly and everlastingly, to the point that he couldn't function if he didn’t talk to Pete in days.
And it had all been a lie.
Pete lied for a living. He’d knelt at that prisoner’s feet, feigned fear, pretended to be shocked and made the man think that he was smarter.
Just as he’d done to Vegas. Just as he was probably doing to Vegas, at the moment. Maybe Vegas had kissed him first, but how was he to know Pete hadn’t willingly pushed him to the point that he couldn't’ hold back? How could he trust anything Pete did? But also, even with all that in mind, how could he quit Pete?
Unable to stand the confusion, Vegas turned to his desk, hands quivering, fighting to control himself. As his jeans pooled around his ankle, Pete stood behind him, kissing him on the neck, unbuttoning Vegas’ shirt. He knew just how to touch Vegas. He knew how to make him ache with want as he waited eagerly for every kiss on his neck, every lick on his shoulder. With his shirt gone, Vegas’ back was exposed, open to the enemy.
If Pete was pretending, he was more deadly than Vegas knew. Because he sounded just as weak, just as desperate, moaning in Vegas’ ear, urgently moving against him, his dick digging into the small of Vegas’ back as he struggled to rid himself of clothing. Vegas couldn’t see his face. Didn’t want to. But with the way Pete was whispering his name, touching him, lifting Vegas’ bent knee onto the desk for better access as he spit in his hands to prep Vegas, Vegas had to believe that this bit… this moment… was genuine.
Curious as he was to see, to witness Pete’s lust again, Vegas didn’t have it in himself to turn around. He loved it when Pete touched him, when Pete pressed down on his back, putting Vegas over the desk as he eased into him. This way, he could tell himself that it wasn’t Pete. That even though he knew those soft hands, they weren’t Pete’s. That Vegas was with a client. Vegas was anywhere else than where he currently was… with someone else than who he was with.
Opening up, loving every bit of it, Vegas bit his lips to keep from uttering the name that was dying to fall from his mouth. He couldn't do that. Not now. Not anymore. It was bad enough that he was whimpering against his own desk, his dick hard and dripping like he was seconds away from cumming even though Pete hadn’t even yet gotten to his dick.
Stretched, as Pete moved in and out, friction biting and exciting Vegas as tears sprung to his eyes, he held onto the desk. Maybe it was because it had been too long. Maybe because every other partner had been mediocre at best, but with Pete, Vegas was beyond his understanding, unable to know why his touch sparked such desire and broken need in Vegas. Even when Vegas knew that he should know better.
As they rocked together, moaning against the desk, Vegas was trying his best to hold on to his senses, but when Pete reached around to take hold of his dick, Vegas moaned, cumming in Pete’s hand as he set a steady pace, moving Vegas between his dick and his hand as he hit the right spot, just as Vegas’ dick slid into his welcoming palm.
“Oh god,” Vegas said, finally letting go of his bleeding lip. “Oh Pe-uhh!”
Pete fucked it right out of him, jerking him off till Vegas had nothing left. And still he continued, fucking him, cumming in him in a quiet hiss as his hand tightened on both Vegas’ waist and his dick.
In the static silence that followed, both their breaths were the only things that could be heard. With the tension in his body easing out, Vegas wondered where to go. Whenever they fucked, they tended to go multiple rounds, alternating between each other. But now, they’d both cum and Pete didn’t seem to want to leave.
Vegas didn’t want him to leave.
He didn’t know how to say that. He didn’t want to say that. Pete wasn’t welcome in Vegas’ bed. People he didn’t trust didn’t get into his bed.
Usually, they never showered till they had fucked for so long that Pete convinced Vegas to fall asleep, while Pete spoke to him in soft, calm tones, stroking Vegas’ hair, till all he knew was the sweet embrace of oblivion. His body had grown so accustomed to fucking Pete and receiving his softness. Fucking Pete and being pampered like a sleepy child, not like the adult man who’d just done very adult things.
In that moment, a part of him wished Pete would pull him towards the bed, get under the covers and shush him till he fell asleep. He was so wrung out that he almost asked for it, almost turned around to look at Pete and beg that Pete treat him as he’d always done.
Gently getting up from the desk, he pushed Pete away.
“I have to shower,” he said, as he made his way straight to the bathroom.
Too weak to stand, he sat in the mini-jacuzzi as the warm water filled in, wishing he’d let Pete touch him some more. He pulled his knees close, hugging himself as the water rose and rose, slow and pattering, a dry solace to his raging thoughts. When he heard the door to his room open and close, he sighed, resting his head back on the marbled pavement. Because of course Pete wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t stoop so low. To him, Vegas was never worth the trouble anyway.
When the bathroom door opened, Vegas was too weak to react that all he could do was look up. Everything faded away into nothingness as he stared into Pete’s eyes, as if for the first time. The lying idiot hadn’t left. For all his smartness, he couldn’t take a hint and realize that Vegas didn’t want him to be there.
“Tell me to go and I’ll go,” Pete said, standing there with his hand on the ajar door.
Vegas couldn't open his mouth. His entire body was frozen in place, fighting with itself to choose which he wanted. But then again, that was nothing new when it came to Pete. There were always two options. Vegas had known this since that first day at camp when Pete had eavesdropped on his phone call.
Try as he might to put all the blame in Pete’s lap, Vegas had always had a choice. To see Pete or not to see Pete. To want him or not to want him. To believe his lies or not to believe. Vegas had made the choice, time and time again. Not that he’d done it blindly or ignorantly, no. He’d seen the red flags but he’d chosen to love the color rather than run away.
Gently, as if afraid he’d spook a skittish animal, Pete closed the door while he kicked off his sneakers. Tightening his hands around his knees, Vegas watched Pete take off his clothes and fold them onto the basket in the corner, before he approached.
“May I?” he asked, just as he got to the jacuzzi.
For all the reasons in the world, Vegas didn’t understand why his head nodded slightly. Pete seemed to take that as permission, stepping in and sitting with his shoulder to Vegas’ shoulder.
They’d never stayed this way before. Either Vegas was behind Pete or Pete was behind him. Or one of them had their back to the wall while the other faced them, sitting in the other’s lap. But this way? It felt awkward just sitting there with Pete by his side, as the pulsing water rose around them.
Sighing, Vegas dared to move a little closer. He didn’t think he was ready to be wrapped in Pete’s arms just yet. But he could take a little bit of contact. So he dropped his head on Pete’s shoulder, closing his eyes as the tension in his body he hadn’t even known was still there seeped right out. Moaning at the feeling, he turned till his forehead was on Pete’s shoulder, inhaling Pete’s skin, missing him even though he was right there.
“Can I…” Pete began. “Can I hold you?”
Vegas wanted it more than anything he could think of. He wished he didn’t. But his body had learned to crave more than just sex from the man sitting stiffly beside him. When Pete turned around, opening his arms, Vegas went to him, head resting on Pete’s chest as their legs got tangled up together till Pete’s ended up above Vegas’, with Pete almost in Vegas’ lap.
And there it was. The feeling that everything was far away, outside the bathroom, beyond the walls. Just the two of them, sitting in water, listening to nothing but each other’s heartbeats as Vegas tried to let go, tried to find what it was he’d always had with Pete.
As his breathing calmed, with Pete gently stroking Vegas’ hair, he had no idea what was happening, but a few minutes later, Vegas drifted off into oblivion.
...but red is mine [5]
Read Previous Chapter Here
***
That would be so like Vegas. To leave a belt and pretend Pete had a chance of escape, only to show up with a taser hiding behind his back.
Pete was more worried about this soft Vegas than he’d ever been at the man who shocked his balls for sport. Too confused, Pete didn’t even know when the words, “What happened to you?” slipped from his mouth.
He was even more shocked that he got an answer.
An answer that sounded real. What had happened to the man who called honesty “a load of bullshit”? Was he still here? Or was this a different one? Was this a man who was vulnerable and raw from his father’s own beatings that he’d panicked at the thought of being left alone?
_____
_____
CHAPTER FIVE
***
“Pete.”
…
“Hey.”
…
“Pete.”
…
“Get up.”
***
When Pete opened his eyes, Porsche was kneeling by Pete’s bed with a broken piece of a fridge tray in his hands.
“What is it?”
Porsche cringed.
“I need your help.”
When Porsche first arrived, he was a constant source of exasperation, and sometimes anger, for a lot of the other bodyguards. Pete could understand why he was that way. He was out of his element, taking a job he obviously didn’t like, for a man he despised, for whatever reason. His soft assistance and helpful words endeared him to Porsche, granting him the chance to get to know the real Porsche, the innocent, the Porsche who complained about things he didn’t really care about, but stayed quiet about the things that actually caused him pain.
It was hard not to pity him.
Except, this also meant that when Porsche fucked up, Pete was forced to wake up in the middle of the night to help his roommate quietly find spare pieces to whatever furniture he’d wrecked.
Like the fridge in the common room.
“Oh, Porsche.”
“Hey,” Porsche said defensively. “This could have happened to anyone.”
Sitting up, wiping his eyes as he looked down at the broken tray.
“Is that soup on your pants?”
“The pot was hot when I put it in.”
Pete put his hand to his temple and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t pass out from frustration.
When he opened his eyes, Porsche’s voice wobbled and sparked as his face distorted like a TV about to go out. Confused, Pete blinked so that his head would clear up as Vegas appeared above him.
Slowly, the past few days came rushing back.
Pete wanted to close his eyes again, pray the day away, go back to the good old times when his biggest problem was a huge, naughty newbie.
***
“You’ve never gone through what I have.”
***
Pete’s pain didn’t matter.
Even as a child, his father’s beatings seemed… less, in comparison to the ones he’d grown to expect, every Thursday. They weren’t predictable. He didn’t get beaten after every match, so he couldn’t always tell. But when he lost a match, Pete knew for sure what was going to happen.
He’d steal a bunch of his grandmother’s herbs, soak them and inhale, numbing his body long before his father got home and the beating began. Because it wasn’t just about him. There was someone else who was beholden to whatever pain Pete felt and it hurt him to imagine what his pain caused for her.
Which was why he wished he could die so that she wouldn’t have to go through all this with Vegas. It would hurt for a second. Losing a soulmate always cost a person a piece of their soul. But it would be better than this. Every hit, every touch, every time a shock of electricity ran through his body, Pete could swear she was far away, rolling on the ground, unable to know that her soulmate had dragged her into something she never bargained for.
But what was this now? With the tenderness and the drugs, and the patches? What was all this?
He couldn't understand why Vegas had changed now. Was he gearing up for something big? Was he planning to lure Pete into a false sense of security, only to drop him back down to the depths of pain that Pete had come to know at his hands?
Because that would be so like Vegas. To leave a belt and pretend Pete had a chance of escape, only to show up with a taser hiding behind his back.
Pete was more worried about this soft Vegas than he’d ever been at the man who shocked his balls for sport. Too confused, Pete didn’t even know when the words, “What happened to you?” slipped from his mouth.
He was even more shocked that he got an answer.
An answer that sounded real. What had happened to the man who called honesty “a load of bullshit”? Was he still here? Or was this a different one? Was this a man who was vulnerable and raw from his father’s own beatings that he’d panicked at the thought of being left alone?
That sounded possible.
Out here, all alone with no one but his father and Pete, Pete could understand Vegas shifting him into the role of comfort because he had no one else. Vegas wanted to keep him alive. He wanted to talk. It hadn’t taken much to prod Vegas’ father’s abuse from his lips, almost like he’d been dying to tell someone about it all his life.
Pete could remember the first time his grandmother found out about it, the lightness that came upon him, having to share with someone what his father did was a balm, all on its own.
“Your father never won a match,” she’d said. “That’s why he beats you. But don’t worry, you hold on to that trophy, my sweet. You cherish it. Because nothing your father does will change how much of a failure he is.”
He’d received those words with peace, back then. Right now, it felt easy to say them out, not just for Vegas, but to remind himself that this, all of what Vegas was putting him through, had nothing to do with anything Pete had ever done to Vegas.
Because Vegas wanted companionship, love and understanding. And for some reason, he’d managed to convince himself that he could get, at least one of those things, from Pete.
***
“...I don’t know why it’s not as bad as before.”
***
He wondered how long this would last, as he slurped down the bowl of noodles. Vegas had let him take a piss without coming in to loom over him like a creep. He’d let Pete use the blanket, and now, he’d gone back out to make him hot noodles.
There wasn’t poison in the noodles today, but what about tomorrow? What would happen when Pete said the wrong thing? Was he supposed to give up trying to escape because Vegas had grown a conscience for three days straight? What would happen if Vegas caught Pete trying to escape again? Would he revert to the original Vegas? Would he be sad or angry?
Would he let Pete go?
“Would you like something to read?”
Pete startled out of his thoughts, holding the empty bowl in his lap.
“Huh?”
“Should I get you a book?”
“I don’t need a book, Vegas.”
“What do you need?” Vegas asked, turning to look at him.
“I need you to let me go.”
A tiny smile broke on Vegas' face as he dropped his book.
“What kind of books do you like?”
That was as positive a reaction as Pete could hope to get.
“I haven’t finished a book since I was a child.”
“So…” Vegas asked, eyebrows raised. “Children’s books?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“You’re a grown man.”
Rolling his eyes, Pete picked up the bowl and set it on the side cupboard.
“You asked. I answered.”
“Oh yes, I’ll get you 'Riding on the Nile' or 'Mrs. Thutsanam and the Singing Turtles.'"
“Hey, those are classics.”
Those books got Pete through some hard times.
“‘Why, Mr. Thutsanam, would you see these turtles with the voice of-’” Vegas began, quoting a line from the book with a high-pitched, feminine voice.
“‘-of swimming angels that sunk to the surface of the sea.’” Pete completed the line for him.
“‘Rose to the surface of the sea, you mean, Mrs. Thutsanam,’” Vegas replied, forcing a deep, masculine voice.
“‘I said what I said, Mr. Thutsanam,’” Pete said, keeping his voice high-pitched. “You memorized a children’s book?”
Vegas shook his head.
“I never really cared for them, but for some reason, they always brought me peace.” He laughed. “I don’t know what it is about books, but they… they calm me down.”
“Me too. My soulmate’s dad used to beat her, like clockwork. I read to her, sometimes.”
“You grew up together, then?”
“I’ve never met her. But I read books so it could help her.”
“How did you know it was her dad?” Vegas asked. “How did you know it was a girl? For all you know, it could have been a naughty boy whose mother had to hit him to set him straight.”
“She was anything I wanted her to be,” Pete said, shrugging. “Sometimes, she was a princess locked in a dungeon. Other times, she was a warrior on a mission, where she’d gotten captured by the enemy. If I read loud enough, my voice would keep her awake, strong enough to fight back.”
When he looked at Vegas, Vegas was staring at him, eyes round with weird softness.
“How many of these stories did you make up?”
“A lot. Had to prepare for our Thursday, weekly beatings.”
Vegas’ face hardened as he slowly turned fully to look at Pete.
“What did you say?”
“What?” Pete asked, perplexed by Vegas’ sudden mood change. “I didn't say anything.”
“Thursday, weekly beatings,” Vegas asked, grabbing and yanking the chain, as he Pete forward. “Is that what you said?”
Pete flopped on his stomach, his chin hitting Vegas in the thigh. When he tried to get up, Vegas pressed him down.
“I - I was just-”
Pete stopped himself from explaining as he stilled himself against Vegas. Of course, the real Vegas was back. Pete wasn’t really sure what had triggered this, but he’d always known he was right there, just lurking beneath the surface. He’d be damned if he shrunk away or begged Vegas to stop.
“Is that what you said?” Vegas shouted at him. “Tell me.”
“If you want to talk to me, calm yourself, Vegas.”
Breathing hard, Vegas blinked down at Pete. He shook his head, letting go of the chain as he pulled back from Pete.
“I don’t know what…” he began, cutting himself short. “I didn't mean to… Pete.”
Pete got up, crawling back to the head board as he looked away from Vegas. His heart pounded in his chest. The softness was a veil. He had to remind himself of that.
“I’m sorry,” he said, before he grabbed his book and left the room.
Sorry. Sorry for what? Keeping Pete here? Losing his temper? Or for the atrocious things that were going to happen in the future?
Pete couldn’t be sure.
He had to remind himself, he had to be careful. Because Vegas might show up, beaten and in need of comfort, but at the end of the day, Vegas would always continue to be Vegas.
... but red is mine [3]
Read Previous Chapter Here
_____
There was movement outside the room, with the guards switching places, whispering to each other, coming and going. Then suddenly, the door swung open and Vegas stood in the hallway.
He wiped his nose and smiled.
“Oh, Pete.” He walked into the room, taking the door gently, as he shut it behind himself. “Kinn really doesn’t care about you.”
_____
_____
CHAPTER THREE
***
“So you want me to send you in to die?”
***
Pete was seven the first time he felt it. A quick twinge across his back that left a long lash of pain behind. It wasn’t the worst thing. It certainly didn’t hurt the first time. But then it happened again, and again, in quick succession, landing precisely on that same spot, causing him to get up from his sleeping mat. He arched his back, reaching behind him to bat away the problem.
But there was no one there. No one was hitting him.
As much as the pain grew and the hits continued to hit, there was no there for Pete to fight. By the time the lashes stopped landing, Pete was breathing hard, crouched in a corner, weeping quietly so his grandmother wouldn’t wake up and come to investigate.
This was a private matter. He understood that. This was between him and his soulmate. He couldn't bear the thought of a girl, somewhere so far away, being beaten at night, for whatever reason. And at the same time, he couldn’t bear his grandmother looking at him with pity, because there was nothing she could do.
She couldn’t stop the beating. She could only watch. And it wasn’t as if she could salve the wounds if she had no idea when the beating would stop.
So, he kept it quiet.
“It’ll be alright,” he whispered to himself, patting his back and praying that his soulmate could hear him, could feel him. “We’re fine now. It’s over.”
Of course it wasn’t.
The next Thursday, in the middle of the night, Pete felt the lash again and he quickly woke, retreating to the far corner of his room so that his grandmother wouldn’t hear him crying, from across the hall. He’d thought it would be a one-time thing. But it continued to happen. Every Thursday, just like clockwork, to the point that Pete stopped going to sleep.
The pain would wake him and keep him awake till morning. It made sense to prepare himself on Thursdays, with a jar of warm milk, balms for his sores and story books to read to his soulmate. Whoever the girl was, she would never be able to hear him. But if Pete could calm himself and take away his own fears, then he wouldn’t add to her fears.
On and on, he’d read, flinching as the lashes landed on his back. He’d calm himself with happy stories, and rile himself up with funny ones. His soulmate was living a rough life that culminated in weekly, Thursday beatings. Pete only had to do his part to help.
As the weeks grew into months, and the months grew into years, the lashes got heavier, thicker. They landed harder, cutting into his skin, sometimes to the point that Pete bled. But he could take it. He could bear the pain. After all, somewhere far, far away, a little girl had to live with this, too.
One day, when Pete turned twelve, the whippings stopped. He’d slept all day and woken up to prepare his milk and stories, positioned himself in his corner and waited for the agony to come.
But the lashes never came again.
“My plan is all ruined because of you.”
***
***
Fucking Ken.
After all they’d been through. After everything Khun Korn had given to all of them, the opportunities he’d afforded them, it was unbelievable to imagine how Ken was bought.
It couldn’t have been the money. They were paid well. It couldn’t be safety. The second family went on more dangerous missions. It couldn’t be prestige or power. The dynamics were set with too many people above Ken for him to truly believe he’d get any sort of power.
As Pete stood there, feet bare, his overalls pulled down to his waist and his hands bound around the pillar behind him, he ran through the possible outcomes, over and over again.
Death was the ultimate. One way or another, Kinn would find Pete’s body, discarded somewhere in the street. There was no disputing that. But before death came, there were a number of events that would play out. He’d be tortured, for sure. Whether or not his body would be picked apart, piece by piece, while he was still very much able to feel the pain, was another issue.
Because he’d heard the stories. He’d seen Vegas do it before. Seen him pluck a person like a corn stalk till they told him everything he wanted to hear. As Kinn’s current guard, Pete knew he was definitely going to feel it. Because Vegas would pick till he got all he could from Pete and continue to pick till there was nothing left.
Or, he might just be too angry that Pete had broken into his home and put an ax to Pete’s neck. Save him the pain and humiliation.
There was movement outside the room, with the guards switching places, whispering to each other, coming and going. Then suddenly, the door swung open and Vegas stood in the hallway.
Vegas wiped his nose and smiled.
So loud, his heart pounded, that Pete was sure everyone in the room could hear. This was it. He gulped. He hadn’t drank any water since his capture. He was hungry and thirsty and tired. And the sooner this was over with, the better.
“Oh, Pete.” He walked into the room, taking the door, gently, as he shut it behind himself. “Kinn really doesn’t care about you.”
When Vegas picked up the gloves, Pete knew which way this was going to go. Pain, not death. Not yet. But it didn’t look like Vegas wanted to ask him anything. He seemed to want to talk. Rather than get to it, as he’d done before, he went around the table, touching things, gauging Pete’s reaction, trying to pull Pete in.
“So how do you think a guy like you should be punished?”
Pete laughed.
Vegas was frustrated. He wanted to take out his anger on Pete. Which was rather unfortunate because Pete would rather die than let him win. Rather die than beg for survival. Maybe Vegas didn’t know, but Pete had come here, knowing he would die.
Kinn had all the information, anyway. What did it matter if Vegas wanted to play with Pete? Pete’s mission was a complete success.
“You’re laughing.”
He picked up the jumper cables, touching them together as sparks flew.
Pete wanted to laugh some more, but the laughter drained right out of him. He could take pain. Pete had learned to endure a lot. But jumper cables? This was new. He hated himself for his momentary show of fear.
And Vegas saw it.
He knew Vegas saw it. Because the smile was back on Vegas’ face as he leaned down, touching the cables together, just so he could catch the look of fear again. But it was gone. Pete was back now, staring him right in the face. If Vegas wanted to add mind games to the physical torture, Pete knew a thousand fun stories to recite in his head that would get him through the pain.
Vegas nodded at one of his men, who walked forward and unzipped Pete’s overalls, dragging it all the way down to his ankles.
There was no way… there was absolutely no way this bastard was going to do what Pete thought he was going to do.
As soon as the man stepped away, Vegas got closer, watching Pete hungrily, like he was scared that looking away would cost him a moment of Pete’s turmoil. Which was why Pete didn’t look away, either. He knew his façade was failing, but he had to keep up. Vegas wanted him to break and Pete would never. He could never.
Scowling at Pete in anger, Vegas shoved the cables right between Pete’s legs, sending thousands of bolts through his body as Pete tensed up, screaming in pain. He had to remind himself that pain wasn’t new. It was just another trial. Just another lash. Pete could take it.
He just had to wait it out till he was granted the release of death.
When Vegas relented, Pete sagged against the pillar, relieved, but still very aware of the monster standing a few inches from his face. Looking at him, Pete couldn’t help but laugh, this time. He didn’t even have to fake it. For a first attempt, this was almost pathetic.
“Oh, you’re still smiling?”
He would have asked if this was the best Vegas could do, if his teeth weren’t jammed shut together from the pain.
Pete couldn’t help it anymore. The irony was too funny. The fact that Vegas had come into this room to find vengeance wasn’t lost on Pete. But Pete wasn’t the one. He was ready. He’d come here to feel pain and to die. And if Vegas’ trick was a couple of cables and sparks, then Pete could ride this out. Probably even surviv-
Vegas shoved the cables in and this time, Pete was so stunned, he actually felt worse. Whether it was from the aggressive hit or his lack of mental prep. Whatever the reason, by the time Vegas pulled away a second time, Pete’s head was fuzzy and unclear. His vision sparked and blotted into darkness. It took him a few moments to come down from the shock. He’d have thought the second time would be better. But the second time reached right up to the crown of his head. Even with the cables gone, Pete stood tense against the pillar, unable to relax. Unable to stop feeling the bolts in his body, shooting right through.
He tried to pull his mask back up, to laugh, to prove to Vegas that this would not be as easy as he’d thought. But he couldn’t find the strength to do so. He wanted to cuss Vegas out. Prompt him to just end it. Because neither of them were going to get anything tangible from this exchange.
As if Pete had any choice in the matter.
But his mouth wouldn't move. Especially as Vegas got closer, leaning right into Pete’s face as he asked, “One more time?”