duplicity

marriages of inconvenience

A/N: Okay so i have decided this story will LIKELY be around 15 or so chapters at prob 140k - 160k words, we shall see. 13 of those (so 7 more) are already fully plotted out, I just need to write them :)

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VEGAS

Vegas: what are you wearing?

Pete: wouldnt u like to know?

Vegas: that is why I'm asking.

Vegas smirked down at his phone in his lap as he awaited the reply. He spent the moment scrolling back up, reading through the texts he'd been sending back and forth with Pete for days, all full of the same things. Flirty messages, teasing photos, ones that Vegas had strangely not grown tired of. With anyone else, this would've been just a tool to get his way, a game he'd play with an unknowing participant. With Pete, it wasn't just that.

With Pete, he genuinely enjoyed talking in this way.

It was strange to find they had a lot in common. Not in any obvious ways, but the two of them had similar thoughts on things. Good and evil (it didn't exist), a sense of duty (perhaps too strong of one), and least of all to mention—the sex.

Sex had always been an important thing to Vegas. He couldn't really track where it started or why, but he'd always had a high sex drive from the time he started going through puberty. The issue was, the older he grew, the "darker" his tastes seemed to grow in turn, and it was difficult to find others who shared his... specific brand of tastes.

Not that Vegas thought anything he liked was wrong. He didn't and he wouldn't force anyone to participate in his kinks—but that's why it was so frustrating. No one else's kinks were as extreme as his.

Pete though? Fuck, he'd somehow found a goldmine in Pete.

Or perhaps a diamond mine—rough and still in their casings of coal. Vegas needed to break them open and harvest the precious gems, cut them, polish them, and have something beautiful all for himself. And Pete wanted it that way. He liked it that way.

That was a rare find and just another aspect of this relationship that Vegas was going to hold as close to his chest as possible.

Vegas' thumb paused on a picture of Pete. It was nothing that risque, but it was one that Vegas could admit had his mouth a little dry upon seeing. It was just Pete—not even fully Pete, but of Pete's abdomen, his thumb hooked in his shirt, tugging it up and up and up until a beautiful brown and perky nipple was exposed. Vegas' mouth almost watered at the sight of it and Pete's stomach that he'd tasted just the night before the photo had been taken.

He liked looking at this one. An innocent little tease, something Vegas might have rolled his eyes out and said, "That's all?" had it been anyone other than Pete who had sent it.

But it wasn't anyone other than Pete who had sent it. It was Pete. So he revered it.

"Vegas? Vegas are you listening to Tawan?"

Vegas' head snapped up at the sound of his fiance's (he had to fight to roll his eyes even thinking that word in regards to Tawan) voice. Tawan was staring at him on the screen of Vegas' home computer. He'd been going on and on about something or other having to do with his trip. Vegas really couldn't care. He'd zoned him out in the first few minutes of being on call with Tawan.

If Tawan was only just noticing, then Vegas thought that was pretty good of him.

"Sorry, Tawan." Vegas turned off his phone and laid it face down on his desk. "Something with work came up and apparently can't wait until later, but they can hold on for a few moments. What was it you were saying?"