Though he wanted to protest, those lips just weren't going to let him. They claimed his and he was left whimpering into the contact instead. Just this little bit of contact and he was already this hard, Pete's hips shifting into the heat of that hand touching him. Thinking about what it would do to him later was making his brain so foggy in the best way possible.

Okay. No protests then. Vegas could take care of him in whatever way he wanted. He'd let him when it felt this good.