Chapter Text
Pete has never liked grocery shopping much. In general, he tends to leave it to those who are more enthused by it. Although, since he moved away from home, that’s no longer an option. Every week or so he begrudgingly drags himself to the store to purchase food items and whatever other amenities his meager salary can afford him.
The chore is monotonous, but certainly more doable than his past self had made it out to be. He begins to see grocery shopping in a new light when an employee at the store catches his eye. He’s a quiet and brooding man by the name of Vegas, his every move inadvertently drawing Pete in until it's all he can take to stay away from him.
“Excuse me, Sir…can you help me reach something on that shelf over there?” he asks, watching the man, who is visibly shorter than him, struggle on his tip-toes to reach the item.
“Here you are,” Vegas says when he finally hands it to Pete. His eyes—deep brown and beautiful that they are—always linger on his lips longer than they should. They trail across the rest of his body plenty, but they always make a swift return to his lips. Pete thinks he might be imagining the way Vegas looks at him, but he hopes with every fiber of his being that he isn't. “Let me know if you need any more help.” the employee sighs and walks away, leaving Pete all alone with his thoughts.
Inevitably, they return to Vegas—it seems to Pete like that's all he thinks about—the man’s reserved smile and polite charm long overstaying their welcome in his mind. He can't help but think of the employee, even when it should be the last thing on his mind. The thoughts start out innocent—Vegas holding Pete in his strong arms and kissing him tenderly—but they grow in intensity the more Pete sees the man, each interaction fanning the flame of his growing infatuation.
The next time he goes to buy groceries, he tries to avoid Vegas, thinking naively that his feelings will wane with time, though luck does not seem to be in his favor. Vegas spots him as he's struggling to reach a box of noodles on the top shelf, his fingers almost grazing the package as Pete refuses to give up.
“Let me get that for you,” Vegas says, resting his hand on Pete's shoulder as he steps up onto the lowest level of the shelf and retrieves the box with ease.
Pete is frozen in place, Vegas’s touch alone enough to make his stomach do somersaults. He stares into Vegas's eyes, unsure what he should be doing but unable to look away. “I, uh…thought you weren't supposed to stand on the shelves like that,” Pete can barely get the words out as the hand drifts to his lower back, remaining there for only a second.
Vegas narrows his eyes at the remark, leaning in close to taunt Pete. “I guess it'll have to be our little secret, then,” he says, handing him the box and leaving the way he came.
The desire is quickly becoming too much for Pete to bear, the thoughts rushing into his mind like water from a burst dam while he tries desperately to patch the leak. He can still feel Vegas's touch, the sensations only exacerbating the man's role in his overactive imagination. Pete does his best to continue shopping like everything is normal, though right below the surface, every one of his nerves buzzes with excitement.
When he gets home, he plops himself on his bed face first and lets out a long groan. Vegas barely touched him and he is struggling to keep it together. He tries to talk himself down—remind himself that he shouldn't get so worked up over someone he barely knows—but then all he can think about is how much he really wants to know Vegas.
Before he can stop himself, he imagines the man—not reserved like usual, but dangerously passionate—kissing, feeling, defiling him. He can feel himself getting hard, his member pressing against his pants as his thoughts get more intense. He takes off his clothes and settles in his bed, reluctantly allowing himself the pleasure of the fantasy his mind conjures up for him.
Vegas is on top of him, grinding their hips together through their clothes. He teases Pete, withholding what he knows he wants—just giving him enough to drive him insane. “You want more?” he asks, flipping Pete over so he's on his knees and lining up his hips with the man's ass. He holds Pete's waist with a bruising grip but so gently Pete can barely feel it, he grinds his hard dick against him. Pete moans but keeps it together until Vegas starts slamming his hips against his ass. “How does it feel, Pete?” One of Vegas's hands snakes up to Pete's hair and pulls his head back so he can speak low into his ear. “You still want more? You still think you can take my dick?”
Pete moans out loud with the intensity of it all. He clenches the sheets in balled up fists and tries to let go of the tension pooling in his stomach. His cock is hard and leaking between his body and the sheets, and he humps the bed as he loses himself in the fantasy.
“I can take it,” he says, grinding his ass against Vegas's member to prove how badly he wants it. “Just fuck me already,” he whines, thumbing the waistband of his underwear in an effort to take them off. He can hear Vegas's belt unbuckling behind him and, just as suddenly as he hears it, it's tightening around his wrists.
“You’re so eager,” Vegas teases, stripping off his clothes and tossing them to the side. “You want me inside you so bad, don't you?” He drags his hard cock across Pete's hole, precum dripping onto it as he pushes it against him. Pete is helpless in his position, bound and exposed for Vegas to have his way with him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
“Please put it in,” Pete begs, crying out in pain when Vegas takes him up on his offer, thrusting his entire length into him at once. Tears prick his eyes as he tries to adjust to the intrusion, but Vegas shows him no mercy.
“What's wrong, Pete? I'm just giving you what you wanted.” he pulls out and slams back in, covering the man's mouth in time to muffle a scream. Pete bites his hand, but Vegas only picks up the pace in spite of his defiance. He thrusts in and out, harder and faster and faster and harder until Pete is seeing stars. His dick hits a spot inside Pete that makes him dizzy, and the hot drag against his walls as Vegas undoes him wracks shivers from his body.
Pete doesn't grow accustomed to the sensation, though a tense pleasure builds in his core and only grows with the way Vegas fucks into him. His pain is blossoming into pleasure as Vegas uses his hole, chasing his pleasure and finding it deep inside of Pete. His tears flow freely as Vegas takes and takes from him, his cock leaking against his stomach as he's fucked to pieces.
When he thinks that he can't take anymore—knows that he can't—he still wants everything Vegas has to give him. Vegas flips him onto his back and reenters him, the new angle making it hard for Pete to keep his moans to himself. Vegas catches his lips in a deep kiss, swallowing Pete's whines, and thrusting once, twice more before emptying his white hot load inside him.
Pete cums hard, his dick twitching as he splatters the sheets on his bed. He's embarrassed to realize that his hands are still balled up in the blankets, his cock laying untouched, yet so incredibly spent, beneath him. He's out of breath, too tired to clean up or move, so he rides the high he's feeling for as long as it lasts. He imagines how Vegas would comfort him and care for him if he was there, how he would build him back up after breaking him down.
Best of all, he imagines how Vegas would look if only he could see Pete, lying there breathless and panting, having cum from the thought of him and him alone. Pete finds it feels good to give in to his urges, it feels great, even, to think about Vegas fucking him and claiming him as his own. But he knows—feels it bubbling up inside of him like hot lava—he won't be satisfied until he can really be Vegas’s own, his one and only. He decides to leave that errand for the next grocery day, and reluctantly, he retreats to slumber with the fantasy still on his mind.