Chapter Text
It's Pete's birthday weekend and he and Vegas are visiting his grandmother - for real this time. It's the best birthday Pete has had in years. Well, really the only one. Since he'd started working for Khun Korn his birthday wasn't ever more than just another day.
This year has been lovely, though. As he and Vegas leave his grandmother's house Pete hugs her and lets her sniff kiss him all over. He's full of her incredible cooking and a little tipsy from a few glasses of beer. His face is flushed and he's smiling like an idiot as he looks between his grandmother and Vegas. They hug and his grandmother takes Vegas' face in her hands. She whispers something into his ear that Pete can't exactly hear through the pounding in his ears, but he's happy - truly happy for the first time in…he doesn't know how long. He never wants this weekend to end, even though he knows he will eventually be bored with nothing to do.
Next thing he knows he and Vegas are outside the house and Vegas has him pushed up against their rental car. Vegas maneuvers him this way and that, kissing him deeply, fucking his tongue into Pete's mouth in what Pete hopes is a preview for the rest of the night.
Vegas pulls away and slips his hands under Pete's shirt, just holding him. He begins to suck kisses down Pete's jaw, his neck, and begins to bite marks into Pete's clavicle. Pete moans and pulls Vegas' head closer to him. He's rewarded with teeth nibbling into the dip of his shoulder.
Vegas pulls away, chuckling and Pete makes a whining noise in his throat. He opens his eyes to Vegas thumbing his cheek and looking at him in what could only be termed awe. Pete doesn't know if he's ever going to get used to Vegas looking at him like that. He smiles back, eyes crinkling.
"Hey," he says, near croaking because his throat is so dry.
Vegas smiles back and smoothes Pete's hair, "Hey, baby. Let's go home, huh?" He kisses Pete's forehead and opens the passenger door, helping Pete slip inside as he nods in agreement.
~
There's another car in the driveway when they get back to the house they're staying in. It's a vacation home owned by the minor family. Pete's training kicks in despite his inebriated state and he goes rigid as he opens his car door. He looks over to Vegas but Vegas seems just as relaxed as he's been all day. He smirks at Pete and makes a gesture for him to stand down. Pete raises his eyebrow but relaxes minutely.
As they open the door, it's cool and inviting. Pete's sure that they turned all the lights off before they left so he is confused. There's soft music playing and though it is bright, it's intimate.
He looks at Vegas, still on edge and wishing he’d brought his glock to grandma’s when someone comes around the arch between the foyer and the living room. His heart jumps into his throat before he realizes who it is.
"Porsche! What the fuck are you doing here?"
Porsche chuckles at the look on his face and hands him a glass of wine, turning around and falling onto one of the couches in the living room.
"Happy birthday, Pete!" Porsche smiles back at him and slaps the couch next to him, indicating that Pete should sit down.
Pete looks over at Vegas who is calm and doesn't seem to be at all surprised to see Porsche in Phuket. He motions for Pete to sit down next to Porsche, holding his hand a moment before letting him go.
"Where's my wine?" Vegas asks as he heads through the living room to the kitchen. Porsche scoffs and takes a sip of his own wine as Pete sits down next to him, still wary.
"Is it your birthday? Get your own." He smiles over at Pete and gives him a hug with one arm, kissing the top of his head before he lets him go.
Pete's head whips over to the kitchen but Vegas is not visible. Still, he turns to Porsche and whispers harshly, "What the fuck, Porsche? Why are you here?"
Porsche laughs as he puts his arm around Pete's shoulders and claps his hand against Pete's face. "Kinn's in the US and I was lonely. Plus it's my best friend's birthday, how could I not come? Since Vegas asked."
At this, Vegas comes back into the room with his own glass and nods at Pete. Pete looks between them for a moment before he shrugs, still woefully uneasy.
"Okay…." He takes a gulp of wine which is too much and coughs. Both Porsche and Vegas laugh at him. Pete feels just a bit like he's outnumbered and somehow not in on the joke, but it's his birthday so he just smiles back and tries to relax.
~
Two glasses of wine and a joint later, and Pete is flying. He and Porsche giggle like teenagers as Vegas smiles at them indulgently, above it all. It's the most relaxed he's ever seen Vegas and Porsche together and he's glad. Even if it's only a temporary truce because it's his birthday.
They're reminiscing about the first time Pete went to Yok's bar with Khun and Porsche. "You got so drunk, I thought you were gonna pass out cold on the bathroom floor," Porsche giggles, "I had to help you get a shower, remember?" Suddenly, Porsche is playing with Pete's hair and Pete is laughing too. Then he remembers what happened when they were in the shower and he glances over at Vegas who winks at him. Pete blushes as Porsche continues,
"You wouldn't let me wash your hair until I kissed you," Porsche's voice is pitched low, as if he and Pete are alone. Porsche's eyes flick down to Pete's lips then back up to Pete's eyes and he continues to play with Pete's hair.
Pete is having a hard time keeping his breathing even and if he's shaking a bit, well, no one else has to know. He clears his throat and pulls back a little, though he realizes that he and Porsche have become quite entangled on the couch. He gasps and looks back over to Vegas, who smiles reassuringly at Pete.
Pete is so very at sea right now, he feels like he's in a dream. How else could he account for this turn of events? He looks back at Porsche and nods, glancing down at Porsche's own lips. He remembers that kiss. It was before Kinn, before Vegas, just Pete and Porsche living in the same room. They never wanted to be with each other but neither could deny the other was attractive and willing. They'd only made out the one time in the shower and then in bed, where they'd rubbed against one another to completion and ended up tangled together on Pete's bed. Pete tries not to think about how their limbs are similarly wrapped around one another now.
"Hmm," comes Vegas' throaty murmur from the other couch. Pete feels slow as molasses as he looks back over at his lover. Vegas looks just as interested in the proceedings as Porsche is. He sets his mostly empty wine glass on the coffee table and leans forward, "that's something I wouldn't mind seeing."
Pete's breath hitches and he looks back at Porsche. He looks confident as he takes Pete's face in his hands and pulls Pete toward him. "Pete," he murmurs against Pete's lips, and Pete feels the breath on them. He makes a questioning noise and Porsche smiles again, "can I kiss you?"
Pete makes a noise in the back of his throat. He wants Porsche to kiss him so bad. Has thought about Porsche's naked body against his that night more times than he can count. He'd even told Vegas about it. He glances over at Vegas once more, seeking permission. Vegas nods, his lids heavy as he watches the two.
So Pete does, mirroring him. He nods and tries to smash his lips against Porsche's but the taller man holds his face still.
"Words, baby," Vegas says.
Pete makes another noise in the back of his throat, impatient. He moans, "Yes, Porsche, please kiss me already!"
Porsche does. Pete moans into Porsche's mouth and Porsche takes the opening to slip his tongue into Pete's mouth. It's soft and overwhelming and Pete mewls as Porsche groans. They're so wrapped up in kissing each other, Pete barely notices Vegas getting up and walking around the coffee table, behind Pete. He doesn't notice until Vegas sits behind him and molds himself to Pete's back. Pete reluctantly pulls away from Porsche and looks behind him. Vegas smiles again, this time not as kindly and bites Pete's swollen bottom lip before shoving his own tongue down Pete's throat.
They kiss differently, Pete notices. Porsche kisses like a wave, overwhelming but with tenderness and rhythmic, like a dance. Pete is able to surf over the kiss. Vegas, on the other hand, is a monsoon; wind and rain and rage, without letting up and all Pete can do is hold on lest he be swept away. P ete manages to pull away, completely overwhelmed by the two men around him. Then the unthinkable happens. Vegas leans over Pete's shoulder and kisses Porsche! Pete's eyes open wide as the two of them kiss, just as passionately as they had kissed him. He moans at the image. This seems to pull Vegas and Porsche out of their trance and they turn to look over at Pete. They smile. Vegas starts to kiss up and down Pete's neck and Porsche takes Pete's hands in his, kissing the top of both.
"Pete," Porsche says, "if you don't like this, you can tell us and we'll stop," Vegas hums an affirmative and stops kissing Pete's neck, instead he puts his arms around Pete's middle and rests his chin on Pete's shoulder.
Pete bites his lip. He still has no idea how this happened but the last thing he wants is for it to stop. He shakes his head. Porsche and Vegas glance at each other and chuckle, not unkindly but it causes Pete's face to heat up in a facsimile of embarrassment.
Vegas whispers into Pete's ear, "Porsche and I talked and we want to make you feel good. Together."
Porsche nods, "Yeah, Pete. We both love you and we want to, well, wreck you, to be honest." Pete shivers at that. He wants that too. " Yeah," Pete nods, licking his lips, "yeah please. I want you too." Vegas bites his ear and Porsche smiles before leaning in and drowning Pete in his kisses once more.
The fact that Porsche and Vegas went behind his back might have given him more pause if he'd been in any condition to think clearly. Luckily, the alcohol, weed and arousal were already pushing him out of his mind and into his body. And they'd barely started.
~
Pete’s crying now. He doesn’t know how long he has been but his face is wet and as he thrashes against the pillow under him, it is too. His wrists are handcuffed to the headboard, a ring around his red, swollen cock. The plug Vegas slipped inside him earlier is buzzing against his prostate and he’s not sure how, but it inflates more and more every few minutes. It’s already much bigger around than Vegas is.
“We gotta prep you enough so you can take us both, baby,” Vegas had whispered in his ear, as he closed a pair of cuffs around Pete's wrists. Pete had nodded and Vegas had kissed him and that was that. He was left on the bed and all he could do was watch and try not to go crazy as Vegas and Porsche stripped each other and made out.
Now Vegas has Porsche on the waterproof couch and he's eating his ass. All Pete can do is watch as Porsche holds his legs to his own chest and watch Vegas' back and dark hair move back and forth as he kneels between Porsche's feet. He can't even watch the show because Vegas' stupid head head is in the way. At least he can still see Porsche's face and hear him as he tells Pete: "Oh, fuck, Pete no wonder I don't see you very much anymore. I'd be riding this tongue all day too, no wonder you're such a slut, now."
Pete makes a humiliated noise and sobs in frustration again. He pulls at the handcuffs, causing them to rub painfully against his wrists, in a wild attempt to free himself.
Immediately, Vegas pulls back from Porsche and turns around. He doesn't look happy, though he does look incredible, face red with exertion and moist with the lube and spit he was using to open Porsche up with. "Ai'Pete!" He stalks over to where Pete is on the bed and slaps him across the face. Pete moans at the pleasure-pain of the slap and his crying redoubles as Vegas grabs his hair, bringing them eye to eye.
" Please Vegas, " Pete blubbers, eyes wide. "Please. I've been so good. It's my birthday," he says in despair.
Vegas scoffs at him. "You've been good? Does a good boy move when he's told not to? Does a good boy hurt himself because he can't stay still?" He reaches up to Pete's wrists, and shakes them, then he swipes a finger under the cuff and it comes back red. He shows Pete the blood from the cut and feeds his thumb into Pete's mouth. Pete immediately sucks the blood off the digit, thankful to have something in his mouth.
Vegas pulls his finger back too quickly for Pete's liking and he makes a petulant sound. Vegas smiles a little and wipes some tears from Pete's eyes, holding his face. Pete's breathing evens out a little more as Vegas holds him.
"Well," Vegas prompts after a breather, "does a good boy do those things?"
Pete whimpers but says, "No, sir."
Vegas shakes his head in agreement. "No, he doesn't." He slaps Pete once more, but Pete just gasps.
"What do good boys do, honey?" Pete is surprised by the voice on his other side. It's Porsche. Pete smiles widely at him and Porsche smiles back. "Hmm, what do good boys do?"
Pete is petulant. He just wants to get off. He doesn't want to be a good boy anymore, he just wants his reward. He starts crying in frustration again and closes his eyes. Taking a breath, he moans,
"Good boys wait their turn."