Chapter Text
Pete adjusted his shirt as he stepped out of the cab. Looking up at the unassuming building, you’d never have any idea that it housed one of Bangkok’s premier kink clubs. He flashed his membership card, a titanium card engraved with the club’s name, Hunger, at the bouncer. The man nodded to him as he opened the heavy wooden door to let him inside.
Immediately, Pete’s ears took in the sounds around him. Screams of pain and pleasure intermingled with laughter and music. The clink of glasses and bottles at the nearby bar.
He unbuttoned his shirt and held it out to the waiting house girl to take it to the coat room. Taking a few seconds, he adjusted the harness he’d worn for the night, a simple black leather number that criss crossed his chest and wrapped around his waist. It was one of his favorites because it always garnered attention.
After a quick check on the time, he made his way over to the bar. Big had just finished wiping the countertop down when Pete slid himself onto the barstool in front of him.
“Hey Pete, the usual?”
Pete nodded at the bartender, admiring the man’s abs as they rippled with his deft movements. Big smirked, noticing Pete’s friendly ogling. Pete rolled his eyes as his drink was pushed across to him.
He and Big had been on a date once, years ago. While they hadn’t been compatible, they’d remained friends within their community. Plus, Big was ripped and Pete wasn’t blind.
“Where’s Chan tonight?” Big looked somewhat wistful at the mention of his fiance. He jerked a thumb towards the door that led to the storage room.
“He went to grab a few bottles of Hibiki from downstairs.”
Pete nodded and took a sip of his cocktail, a Paloma with Thai chili infused in the syrup, and reveled in the taste. He turned on the barstool to look out at the floor. The stage was getting set up for an exhibition that would happen later in the night but there was plenty going on beforehand. On the couches that lined the walls, people in all manner of dress and undress draped themselves over each other. He’d been coming to Hunger for so many years, he recognized plenty of people. Many were fellow subs he’d met through various club activities and community parties. He knew most of the Doms present, the ones both available and taken.
Bottles clinking behind him caused him to turn just in time to see Chan lowering his lips to Big’s bare shoulder.
“Hey Chan,” Pete interrupted them before they could take their PDA much further.
The older Dom raised his head back up with his eyebrow arched, clearly somewhat irritated but Pete knew he wouldn’t stay mad at him. Chan had actually set Pete up with his first Dom and though that particular relationship hadn’t worked out, he still held a lot of respect for the man.
“Are you staying for the scene tonight?” Chan’s voice dripped with snark. He knew damn well that Pete would be staying to watch.
“You’re not funny, Chan. Why don’t you two just go back to being lovebirds and leave me alone.” The pair laughed at Pete’s irritated outburst. Their relationship both warmed his heart and burned him with envy.
“Maybe tonight he’ll actually do something other than just watch Vegas,” Big stage-whispered. Pete glared in response at the mention of the name. Chan chuckled in response, a booming laugh that could bring most to their knees.
“You know Pete, Vegas only takes on subs that approach him first. You’re never gonna get him sitting on the sidelines.”
Pete huffed at Chan’s words. Sure, it made sense in theory. But there was a reason Pete didn’t have a permanent Dom. Looking at the couple in front of him, the reason was right there.
Pete had never been interested in a Dom/sub only relationship. Ever since realizing and embracing this side of himself, Pete had known that he could never fully submit to someone unless he was in a romantic relationship with them as well. He subbed for a few Doms throughout the years but it was more to scratch the itch. He refused to be exclusive to someone unless they were exclusive in all ways.
While Vegas was easily one of the most popular Doms that frequented the club, it was well known that he’d never gotten involved with his subs romantically. Just because Pete could admit to the crush he had on the enigma didn’t mean he was willing to settle for less than what he knew he wanted.
So, he remained a hopeless observer. Never missing an exhibition night at the club when Vegas was scheduled to use the stage. The man didn’t have a permanent sub but he took on subs for exhibition nights. Watching Vegas dominate someone had become something akin to an addiction for Pete. It was obvious that the man took enjoyment in what he did. He enjoyed using pain to bring his subs pleasure. It was intoxicating to watch. Pete was almost positive that he’d never actually survive a scene with Vegas anyway. His body would surely and spontaneously combust.
Pete shook the thoughts from his mind as he brought his focus back to the bartending duo.
“Nosy,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out at the pair.
And with that, he took his drink and made his way deeper into the main room. It wouldn’t be long until the exhibition would start and Pete didn’t want to miss anything.
***
Vegas knew he should be paying attention to his sub for the evening. In his mind, he knew that very well. Ken was an experienced sub though so he didn’t exactly need any help getting into his subspace. But Vegas was still responsible for him for the exhibition so he should have been busy getting into his own headspace as well.
But what was he doing?
He was wondering if the pretty one, Pete, would be in the audience.
Vegas knew the man had been watching him for a while. He never failed to show up whenever Vegas was scheduled for a scene on stage. Vegas had seen the evidence of the man’s arousal, barely restrained in whatever pants he’d been wearing at the time. But they still hadn’t spoken to each other.
It was always the same. He’d get a glimpse of the man in the audience or around the club, and then spend the rest of the night testing his nonexistent powers of telepathy in a vain attempt to get the beautiful man to approach him.
But Vegas was a Dom. Why didn’t he just go up to the man who’d caught his eye? What was he so afraid of?
It wasn’t that he was afraid. He just had a system in place that had worked for him for years. Since Vegas liked his subs bratty, a little defiant, he made it a point to only consider submissives who approached him first. A sub propositioning a prospective Dom took a level of confidence that would immediately eliminate any candidates who couldn’t manage the simple task.
So, even though Vegas could guess that the man was interested in him, he kept his distance, silently hoping that the beautiful creature would put him out of his misery. Because he could easily see himself wanting more than Pete might be willing to give.
“Vegas, it’s almost time for us.” Ken’s voice pulled Vegas back into the present. He turned to see the man looking at him expectantly. “Are you okay man? You look a little distracted.”
Fuck. The last thing Vegas needed was the sub being able to tell that his focus was off. Mentally, he smacked himself.
“I’m fine. Just thinking about how pretty your back is gonna look all striped up.” The lie fell from his lips easily enough but just the thought of the marks he planned on putting on Ken’s pale skin was enough to shake his unruly brain into place. Ken looked convinced, his easy smile indication enough that he bought it. That was all Vegas needed.
“Vegas, Ken, you two ready?” The prep room door opened to reveal the tall, muscular program director for the club. He also happened to keep the place running smoothly from behind the bar.
“Yeah Chan, we’re ready,” Vegas answered.
Ken joined his wrists together in front of his body for Vegas to cuff him. After Vegas secured the man’s hands together, he tugged at the ropes knotted across his chest. That was Ken’s signal. As far as the man was concerned, the scene started right then. He immediately lowered his head in submission. Vegas grinned. “Good,” he whispered. He patted the top of Ken’s head and then lifted his chin. Ken knew better than to look him in the eye so he kept his eyes downturned.
Vegas turned and walked, knowing his sub for the evening would be hot on his heels. Ken was a good sub.
But that was as far as their relationship would ever go.
***
Pete felt his breath hitch in his throat when Vegas stepped onto the stage. The man was shirtless, barefoot, standing there in nothing but a pair of tight black leather pants. Pete had never been jealous of an article of clothing before but, with the way the pants clung to Vegas’ frame, there was a first time for everything. His pants were slung low enough that Pete could easily make out the Orion’s Belt guiding the eye directly to the outline of his dick. The lighting directed at the stage made Vegas practically glow, soft blues and whites danced across his skin. His sharp cheekbones contrasted beautifully with the way his hair fell softly over his ears. It was long enough that he could’ve pulled it back, but Pete was glad he hadn’t. It was easier to imagine running his fingers through it.
The sub named Ken, a guy Pete had met a couple of times, stepped onto the stage, already handcuffed. Vegas attached a hook to the short chain between the cuffs. The hook was attached to a longer chain suspended from the ceiling by a wench. With the press of a button, the chain began to shorten, forcing Ken to raise his arms above his head. Vegas continued raising the chain until Ken had to stand on the balls of his feet. That seemed to be the magic height.
“Tell these nice people who you serve, slut.”
At Vegas’ command, Ken lifted his head to look straight out at the people gathered to watch.
“I serve you Master.”
Vegas nodded, pleased with the response, and walked over to a table that had been set up before they’d arrived. Pete sucked in a breath when the man picked up a riding crop, slapping his hand with it a couple of times, before he walked back over to the waiting sub.
Without warning, he swung his hand lightning fast. The crop landed squarely on Ken’s stomach. Pete felt his ass clench around the buttplug he was wearing. He tried to hold in the moan but he was only half successful. It came out more like a grunt. Luckily for him, the people around him were too focused on the men on stage to pay him any attention.
Up on stage, Ken hissed. Pete watched as Vegas used the end of the crop to lift the sub’s chin up. Pete could practically feel the buttery leather on his own skin.
“Let them hear you.” Vegas’ voice was low, almost threatening, and the sound went directly to Pete’s groin. Vegas used the crop on Ken again, this time on his back. Ken cried out loud, shouting nonsensical sounds that seemed to make Vegas happy. “Such a good little slut for me,” Vegas crooned in the man’s ear. “Do you want me to take these pants off for you? So we can really get started?”
“Yes please Master.” Ken’s voice was already rough from trying to keep his emotions in check. They’d barely started and Pete could already tell the man was close. How was he going to last once his cock was free?
Vegas tossed the riding crop back on the table and turned Ken around so that his back was to the audience. Vegas pulled at the waistband of the man’s loose pants and yanked them down Ken’s legs. They fell to the floor to reveal an expanse of pale skin, supple buttocks, and strong muscled legs. Because of how he was turned, his cock was still hidden from view. But Pete knew there was no way it wasn’t rock hard.
Pete’s eyes never left Vegas as he returned to the table. He picked up a simple wooden paddle with leather wrapped around the handle. The paddle looked lightweight as Vegas twirled it in his hand. He placed the paddle against one of Ken’s asscheeks, circling on the skin as if drawing a target for himself to hit.
And then, just as fast as he’d swung the riding crop, the paddle landed with a satisfying thwack against Ken’s skin. His ass immediately bloomed red as blood rushed just below the surface. Before the man had a chance to inhale, Vegas smacked the other side so that it matched. Pete made a sound low in his throat as Ken whimpered. He fisted his hands by his side to keep from touching himself.
Vegas continued to paddle Ken until the man was a sweaty mess of limbs hanging from the ceiling. When Pete was positive that there was no way the man could possibly take anymore, Vegas turned him around. His front hadn’t been touched since that first smack with the riding crop. The man’s eyes were glazed, a lazy smile on his face. His erection jutted out proudly from a neatly trimmed thatch of curls. Vegas prodded at it gently with the paddle, moving it this way and that while Ken moaned at every touch.
“You want to come, don’t you?”
Ken’s whispered “Yes Master” echoed Pete’s own thoughts.
“That’s too bad,” Vegas chuckled darkly as he gripped Ken’s chin with his hand, “because you don’t get to decide that, slut.” Vegas turned to the audience then and Pete just knew that the man had caught him staring. He looked back at Ken at the last possible second but Vegas had to have seen him. “What does everyone think? Do you think he deserves to come? Or should we have a little more fun?”
Discordant shouts of “let him come” and “more fun” rang out from the crowd. Pete had to admit that the calls for more had seemed a bit louder.
Vegas apparently thought so too.
When he retrieved a flogger from the table, Pete’s legs suddenly felt like jelly. He had to fight with himself just to stay standing. The thought of Vegas using that flogger on him made jealousy surge in his veins. He could practically feel each crack of the leather against Ken’s chest as if it were his own. Short of breath, Pete edged himself towards the back of the crowd. It wasn’t often that he didn’t stay to watch the entire exhibition, especially ones that involved Vegas, but he had to come immediately and he didn’t plan on doing it with his pants still on.
In the bathroom stall, with his pants around his ankles, Pete jerked himself off with Vegas’ name on his lips.
Fuck, he had it bad.
“Keep your hands up, protect your face!” Pete yelled from the side of the ring at his trainee. The teen kept dropping his hands and getting clocked for it. It would’ve been funny if it had been someone else's trainee. But his? Nope, not funny at all.
“Corners!” The shout came from his assistant Pol who was acting as a referee for the sparring match. Neither kid was great, still learning the ropes, but they each showed promise. Despite that, Pete couldn’t help but be a little irritated that the teenager couldn’t seem to remember the most basic lesson he’d taught him.
"Keep your fucking hands up."
The teenager, a boy who had started out wanting to learn how to defend himself from bullies, walked over to his corner of the ring. Pete met him with a water bottle and a towel.
“Earth, you’re not focused today. What’s going on?” Earth looked across the ring where his sparring partner, a boy named Santa who had started taking lessons around the same time, was talking animatedly to Pol with a bright smile on his face, seemingly unbothered by their bout getting cut short.
“I told Santa I liked him today.” Pete nodded, waiting for Earth to continue. When he didn’t, Pete nudged him on the shoulder.
“And?” he prompted. Earth huffed.
“And he said he liked me back. But I don’t know what we are now? Are we boyfriends? What if we hurt each other boxing? Will he still like me? I don’t want to hurt him. I really like him.”
“Okay okay,” Pete put his hands out to Earth’s shoulders to stop the kid from going on and on about the other boy. “Okay, Santa likes you back, that’s half the battle won. You two should probably talk about the boyfriend thing though, just so you’re on the same page.” Earth nodded his head in agreement so Pete continued. “As for hurting each other in the ring, you two still have a long way to go before that’s even a possibility. But I can put you with different sparring partners if you really think it’s gonna be a problem. And he’d be stupid to stop liking you for something like that anyway. I think we both know Santa’s not an idiot. Okay?”
Pete patted the boy’s shoulder in reassurance. Earth smiled up at him.
“Thank you P’Pete, I’ll focus more next time.”
He ruffled the hair on top of Earth’s head, all that could be reached through his head guard, and smiled back at him.
“Let’s call it for today. You two have some talking to do and it’s lunch time. I’ll see you guys for your lesson tomorrow.”
Pete stepped out of the ring with a smile on his face. He hadn’t really expected that explanation to come out of Earth’s mouth but it was nice that the boy didn’t seem to be struggling too much in the romance department.
Pete only wished he could say the same about himself.
When he opened the door to his office, his best friend was already there waiting for him with his feet propped up on his desk.
“Porsche, how many times have I told you to keep your feet off my desk? I don’t need your ratty old Converse leaving footprints all over my paperwork. Can’t you get your sugar daddy to buy you new ones at least?”
Porsche placed his hand on his chest and tried to look offended but the impish grin on his face meant it didn’t quite land.
“You leave my Converse alone. They’re worn in and comfortable.” Another second passed as the rest of Pete’s words seemed to sink in. Then, he really did look offended. “Hey Kinn is not my sugar daddy!”
Pete just rolled his eyes and knocked Porsche’s feet off the end of the desk.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Porsche stood up to let Pete have his chair but flicked Pete on the forehead on the way up.
“Kinn’s dick helps me sleep at night.”
Pete couldn’t help the snort that his body made in response to his friend’s crassness. Porsche stuck out his tongue, clearly proud of himself for that one.
“I’m glad one of us is getting dicked down on the regular,” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. But considering they were in the small confines of his office, Porsche had no trouble hearing exactly what Pete had said.
“I don’t get it. What’s the point of going to that sex club if you never fuck anybody?”
At that, Pete jumped up and around his desk to shut the door. Porsche, the man without an ounce of shame in his body, just looked genuinely curious. But Pete didn’t need the entire gym knowing about his sex life.
“First off, it’s a BDSM club, not just a sex club. And second, I don’t want to fuck just anybody. I’ve had my share of one night stands and the idea of one is just boring to me now. Plus, there’s already someone I’ve got my eye on. I just haven’t worked up the courage to talk to him yet.”
Porsche stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and swayed back and forth for a moment before he opened his mouth.
“Kinn says his cousin is into some weird shit. I could probably introduce you guys if you want.”
Pete knew the man just wanted to help but he really didn’t need a pity date with his best friend’s boyfriend’s cousin just to get his dick wet.
“Can we go eat now? There’s that bakery that just opened up across town that we haven’t tried yet. I heard they had really good sandwiches and stuff.”
Porsche rolled his eyes at Pete’s sorry excuse for a subject change but let it drop. Pete had a crush he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk to and an inability to admit when he needed help.
“Yeah come on, I’ll drive. I borrowed Kinn’s Aston Martin today.”
Pete barked out a laugh. And his friend said he wasn’t a sugar baby. Pffth, okay.
***
“So then this kid executes a perfect uchi mata without even trying! I think I found a Judo prodigy or something.”
Pete nodded along as Porsche told him all about his new favorite student in the beginner Judo class he taught. Porsche had found the kid on the street, fighting older kids much bigger than him and winning! After the man had broken up the fight, Porsche had convinced the boy to come take some lessons with him. If he liked fighting so much, he should at least learn some techniques that could take him somewhere in life.
Pete knew that Porsche saw himself in the kid.
He took a bite of his sandwich as Porsche continued to talk, only for it lodge itself squarely in his throat when he tried to swallow.
From where he sat, Pete had a clear view of the bakery’s entrance. And the man who had just walked in was the cause of his inability to draw a proper breath.
“What are you--here drink something,” Porsche shoved Pete’s milk tea at him from across the table. “Why did you suddenly forget how to chew your food? What are you staring at?”
Before Pete could get his food unstuck to yell at Porsche to not move a muscle, his friend had bodily turned around in his seat.
But what happened next, Pete was glad he hadn’t taken another bite because he surely would have choked all over again at Porsche’s next words.
“Vegas?”
Pete watched in silent horror as the man he’d had a crush on for the past almost two years turned towards them and fucking waved !
How did Porsche know Vegas? How did Vegas know Porsche? How did breathing work again?
When Vegas started to walk over to them, Pete felt like his stomach was doing an impression of a hyperactive child in a trampoline park. Was he dreaming?
“Porsche, how have you been? I haven’t seen you since that family dinner at Kinn’s a couple months back.”
Porsche turned back to Pete with a wide smile as he pointed to Vegas.
“Pete, this is Kinn’s cousin, Vegas. The one I was telling you about earlier.” Pete recalled Porsche talking about his boyfriend’s cousin who was into “weird shit” but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that the two were one in the same. “Vegas, this is my best friend.”
Vegas leveled his gaze on Pete with a smirk he’d only ever seen before in the club.
“Pete,” Vegas grinned. At Porsche’s questioning glance between the two men, he offered, “we run in the same circles.” Porsche seemed to accept that answer easily enough. Pete nearly choked on air again.
“Right,” Pete breathed, “same circles.” If you could call being members of the same prominent BDSM club the same circle, then sure.
“You should join us,” Porsche suggested, “we just got our food a few minutes ago.”
Pete wasn’t sure if Porsche was trying to help him or kill him. Both options were equally possible.
“You know, that’s a great idea. We can catch up a little, make fun of Kinn, and I can get to know Pete a little better. We don’t really get to talk that much in our circle .”
Before Porsche could say anything in response, Vegas had turned to go back to the counter to place his order.
“Hey, maybe if you guys hit it off, you can forget all about that guy you’re too scared to talk to.” Porsche, clearly pleased with himself, smiled wide across the table at Pete. Pete took a deep breath, reminding himself that he probably shouldn’t punch his friend in public.
“Porsche, remind me again, why are we friends?”
Porsche instantly looked offended and kicked Pete under the table. Vegas came back and took the seat next to Pete. Pete was suddenly inundated with the scent of leather mixed with almonds. The smell was oddly familiar but he’d never been so close to Vegas before. It was addicting, much like the man.
“So Pete,” Vegas started, causing Pete to gasp from hearing his name once again on the man’s lips, “how do you and Porsche know each other?”
Pete swallowed, silently praying to whatever deity might be feeling merciful that day for his voice to not break when he spoke.
“We met at university. I got in a fight on the first day and Porsche came along as the other guy’s friends started to join in. Together, we were able to take them all out. They never bothered me again.”
Vegas’ face softened at Pete’s story and, for just a moment, Pete let himself get lost in the man’s eyes.
“So Porsche was a knight in shining armor then?”
Across from them, Porsche scoffed.
“More like an idiot in a tin foil. One of the professors had pissed me off in my first class that day so I was ready to fight something anyway. Pete just lucked out when I saw him fighting three guys at one time. Figured I could let off some steam and make it a fair fight all at once.” Vegas chuckled at Porsche’s retelling.
“That sounds like the kind of guy my cousin would fall in love with.”
Porsche beamed at the mention of his boyfriend. It was too adorable to ignore.
“So yeah, we became best friends after that and then we started the martial arts center. Pete’s one of the best boxing coaches in Bangkok.”
Vegas looked impressed at Porsche’s words. Pete couldn’t help the blush that colored his cheeks.
“I may have to make a visit then. I could use some help with my roundhouse kicks.” Vegas shifted in his seat until his thigh was pressed right up against Pete’s. Pete felt his breath hitch but it was like he was watching everything unfold from somewhere above them.
Vegas couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He’d been hoping he could have this kind of effect on the man he’d had his eye on for over a year. The bobbing of Pete’s Adam’s apple told Vegas exactly how Pete reacted to his presence. Pete took a deep breath through his nose and Vegas would’ve sworn the man was inhaling him.
“You box?”
Vegas hoped that the interest he heard in Pete’s voice was due to more than just his knowledge of martial arts.
“I competed in Muay Thai competitions in high school but I never really went anywhere with it. Now I just spar when I go to the gym.” He nudged Pete with his shoulder and grinned. “Think you could whip me into shape, Pete?”
Pete stared at him like he couldn’t believe he’d actually just asked that. Vegas was curious how much he would say with his friend sitting right across from them.
Vegas wasn’t disappointed.
“I’m not usually the one that does the whipping.”
Though his voice was quiet, Vegas heard him, and his meaning, loud and clear. He raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised when Pete returned his stare, not backing down.
“Sounds good to me.”
The spell was broken with the arrival of his food. Vegas thanked the waitress before she left the table.
After that, Porsche started talking about Kinn. For their two year anniversary a couple of weeks prior, Kinn had apparently taken him to Hong Kong to stay in one of the many luxury hotels his family owned. Vegas chuckled. He was happy that his cousin had someone like Porsche in his life, who could appreciate the things people in their world took for granted. Though Vegas’ side of the Theerapanyakun family weren’t hoteliers like Kinn’s, they’d still never hurt for money. It was partially due to that privilege that Vegas had been able to start his own company, completely separate from his family’s name.
He respected people like Pete and Porsche who built things from the ground up, without a wealthy family name behind them.
In the course of the conversation, Vegas had moved so close that his thigh was up against Pete’s from hip to knee. To say he was pleased when Pete didn’t shy away from his touch would be an understatement. Pete was talkative, almost as much as Porsche, so Vegas couldn’t understand why the man had never approached him. He knew he’d been watching him. It was like a guarantee that whenever he got that feeling at the base of his spine that meant eyes were on him, it was always Pete’s gaze he found locked onto him.
So what was he waiting for?
“So what do you do, Vegas? Porsche has mentioned before that you don’t deal in hotels like Kinn.” Pete’s voice made Vegas want to reveal everything, just lay it all out for everyone to see.
But, they were in public. Maybe he needed to keep some things a little private.
“I own a leather shop where I make custom pieces for clients. I’ve just started shipping internationally too.”
The fact that the exact type of custom pieces he made, bondage and fetish wear, weren’t exactly ‘family friendly’ was what made his answer a little vague.
He saw the way Pete perked up at the word ‘leather’ and grinned.
“Do you use almond oil with the leather?” Pete’s question shocked him momentarily. How the fuck could Pete know that?
“Uh, yeah I do. It’s a great softening agent and it smells nice too. How did you know?”
And then Pete did something else that shocked him. He leaned in closer and inhaled.
“You smell like almonds, and leather. I like it.”
Across from them, Porsche looked like he was watching his favorite drama unfold before his very eyes.
Vegas couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered to Pete’s lips. They looked so soft. He wanted to bite them, mark the man as his.
But he couldn’t exactly get possessive over the man after their first conversation. That was something a psychopath would do.
I’ve been called worse, Vegas thought to himself.
Vegas smirked at the way Pete shifted in his seat, pressing his leg just a little closer.
As they finished their food, Vegas took his phone out and pulled up his contact information. He placed the phone on the table so that Pete could see what he was about to do. As he AirDropped his information to Pete’s phone, he heard the man’s sharp inhale. Pete’s phone dinged in his pocket with the notification.
“Well Pete, Porsche, I hate to eat and run but I really need to get back to the shop. Porsche, say hi to the family for me. Pete, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”
Pete’s mouth opened and closed. He was just so cute.
Vegas grinned at the surprised look on Pete’s face. Once again, he was struck by the urgent need to kiss him, but held back. In the back of his mind, however, he wondered what Pete would look like chained to his bed.
“See you, Vegas,” Porsche waved to him as he walked away. Pete gave a small wave as well, eyes never leaving Vegas’.
Stepping out of the bakery and into the bright sunlight, Vegas sighed heavily. If Pete wasn’t ready to talk to him within their community setting, maybe having his number would encourage him to contact him outside of it. Whatever decision the man made, Vegas would respect it. However, that didn’t stop him from hoping that Pete’s decision would be in his favor.
In their favor.