It's true. Vegas was completely focused on himself right now: his anger, his want, his needs. Whatever it was that boiled up in him, he just wanted a physical release for it. Fucking, fighting, maybe both? Did it matter as long as it burned the aggression away?
Maybe somewhere in the deep, dark, and rational recesses of his mind, Vegas knew this was a bad thing. But it wasn't the rational part of his brain driving this situation. If it were, they would be sitting on the couch, talking. Instead, they were both at the mercy of Vegas' temper.
He wasn't being particularly careful, either. Once he worked a third finger into Pete, he twisted and curled them with impatience. Vegas noticed Pete's resistance, but it was just another detail confined to the back of his rational mind. Before long, it wasn't Vegas' fingers working their way inside Pete's body.
A muffled scream left him as his hands twisted and moved in the belt. Over and over again he clearly was trying to say something but Vegas wasn't even trying to listen to him. He felt so betrayed and scared. Not scared of what was being done to him though. Scared of losing someone he so desperately needed in his life.
Tears formed in his eyes as the pain got worse when Vegas started to push his cock into him. Crying out he struggled in the hold that he was in. He was feeling his hands slip a little and knew he was tearing the skin a bit. But he didn't care about that. Nothing he did to himself to gain freedom mattered.
All that mattered that Vegas was...
He let out a sob as he realized that his body was getting off on this even when he didn't want it to.
The Troubles with Being a Masochist: An Autobiography by Pete Saengtham
With his mood giving him tunnel vision, Vegas wasn't giving much attention to Pete's struggles or the blood from his fight to free his hand from the belt. They've played games like this before. Or maybe that's how he would justify it to himself. But that wasn't on Vegas' mind at all right now.
No, right now, all he wanted was to wreck Pete. Vegas wasted no time. Once he'd worked his cock deep, he pulled back, then slammed in hard, starting a frenzied pace.
Every move that Vegas made caused him to see stars. It hurt and it was a pain that ripped right through him. Crying out, he tried in vain to use their safe word. Over and over again he tried. The longer this went on the more he felt more hurt by the betrayal at this line crossed than anything else. As cruel and horrible as it sounded, he didn't care if Vegas crossed lines with other people. He knew who his husband was and what kind of man he was.
But with him? More tears fell and screamed again around his own underwear.
Perhaps the only saving grace in all this was Vegas' urgency. Which meant he wasn't going at Pete for long. Maybe it was just unwarranted aggression or the fact the Pete felt tighter than usual or even the struggling... Maybe some combination of all three. Whatever it was, Vegas didn't last long and soon he was spilling hard into Pete. He barely finished when he pulled out and collapsed beside him on the bed as if nothing was amiss.
Pete came and it just added to everything. It was like a humiliation on top of a betrayal and he was left in tears as he felt the bed shift with Vegas next to him. And in that moment, he freed himself. There was blood but he didn't care. He rolled over and sat up trembling, pulling the underwear from his mouth. For about a minute, he couldn't do anything but sit there.
And then suddenly he was on top of Vegas and he punched him so hard that he knew that the man was going to have one hell of fucking bruise for a good while. It suddenly didn't matter how raw his throat was in that moment, he screamed at him anyway. "I...said...curry rice! You fucking asshole!"
For a split second -- in that time between rolling on top of him and his fist connecting with Vegas' face -- he thought maybe Pete wanted to go again. Which, of course, made the blow take him completely off-guard. He was already pushing at Pete to get him away by the time the pain lanced through his skull.
He easily could have beat the shit out of him. He should beat the shit out of him. Pete threw his fist back to do it and then that bracelet caught his eye. The ring on Vegas' finger. So he scrambled off the bed and went to start grabbing Vegas' clothes.
He threw the clothes right at Vegas' face to get himself away from being touched. More tears were falling but he didn't even seem to notice. Instead, he just suddenly shoved him.
Suddenly Pete went ice cold as he stared at him. Let's just talk about this. Exactly what Pete had asked for when Vegas had...
The calm was probably more scary than the screaming before because this? This was Bodyguard Pete. He was analyzing the situation and solving a problem. He was shutting his emotions down and locking them away to deal with things. And right now? That situation, that problem, that thing... That was Vegas.
Shoving him to the side, he grabbed the door to pull it open. Then he grabbed Vegas by by his arm to throw him outside. He didn't even give a shit that Vegas was absolutely naked.
"Shit!" He narrowly avoided getting hit in the face with his own shoe! But it was just enough of a distraction to allow Pete to get the door shut. Cradling his clothes in one arm, Vegas pounded on the door.
Pete locked the door in response and then sank down onto the floor to lean against it. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he cried silently, refusing to say another word to the man on the other side. He could hear and feel him pounding away but he wouldn't open it.
He had to stand by this. He had... He had to make it clear that this wasn't something that a simple sorry could fix.
The pounding and pleading continued on for solid minutes, growing weaker and weaker as the realization that Pete wasn't going to let him back in settled in. Which was totally fair after what Vegas just did to him. Did Vegas have to like it? Absolutely not.
Finally, he put his clothes on since sitting naked in the hallway was no way to be. Kinn could probably put him up in a room here, but... Pete didn't want him around. He had clothes and food at the loft so he could stay there and sulk over what a magnificent fuck up he'd made.
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Maybe somewhere in the deep, dark, and rational recesses of his mind, Vegas knew this was a bad thing. But it wasn't the rational part of his brain driving this situation. If it were, they would be sitting on the couch, talking. Instead, they were both at the mercy of Vegas' temper.
He wasn't being particularly careful, either. Once he worked a third finger into Pete, he twisted and curled them with impatience. Vegas noticed Pete's resistance, but it was just another detail confined to the back of his rational mind. Before long, it wasn't Vegas' fingers working their way inside Pete's body.
no subject
Tears formed in his eyes as the pain got worse when Vegas started to push his cock into him. Crying out he struggled in the hold that he was in. He was feeling his hands slip a little and knew he was tearing the skin a bit. But he didn't care about that. Nothing he did to himself to gain freedom mattered.
All that mattered that Vegas was...
He let out a sob as he realized that his body was getting off on this even when he didn't want it to.
The Troubles with Being a Masochist: An Autobiography by Pete Saengtham
No, right now, all he wanted was to wreck Pete. Vegas wasted no time. Once he'd worked his cock deep, he pulled back, then slammed in hard, starting a frenzied pace.
It's a real problem, okay.
But with him? More tears fell and screamed again around his own underwear.
In his previous line of work, i don't doubt it!
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And then suddenly he was on top of Vegas and he punched him so hard that he knew that the man was going to have one hell of fucking bruise for a good while. It suddenly didn't matter how raw his throat was in that moment, he screamed at him anyway. "I...said...curry rice! You fucking asshole!"
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"Ah! What the actual fuck?!"
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"Get out."
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"Shit," he hissed under his breath.
Vegas was on his feet instantly, chasing Pete down in his task and, foolishly, trying to lay hands on him.
"Pete, baby, I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."
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He threw the clothes right at Vegas' face to get himself away from being touched. More tears were falling but he didn't even seem to notice. Instead, he just suddenly shoved him.
"Get out, you asshole! Get out!"
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"Pete... Baby, let's just talk about this."
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The calm was probably more scary than the screaming before because this? This was Bodyguard Pete. He was analyzing the situation and solving a problem. He was shutting his emotions down and locking them away to deal with things. And right now? That situation, that problem, that thing... That was Vegas.
Shoving him to the side, he grabbed the door to pull it open. Then he grabbed Vegas by by his arm to throw him outside. He didn't even give a shit that Vegas was absolutely naked.
"Get out!" he shouted at him again.
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Vegas didn't care that he was completely naked in the hall. He didn't plan on staying out there. No, he turned around to try to get back in.
"Pete, I'm sorry!"
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"Get the fuck out!"
With that, he slammed the door before he could get back in.
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"Pete, c'mon!"
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He had to stand by this. He had... He had to make it clear that this wasn't something that a simple sorry could fix.
le fin?
Finally, he put his clothes on since sitting naked in the hallway was no way to be. Kinn could probably put him up in a room here, but... Pete didn't want him around. He had clothes and food at the loft so he could stay there and sulk over what a magnificent fuck up he'd made.