The Mansion of Men

Longing for fear

To be honest, when Pete came barging in with his plan to open up, he'd only wanted to open up about reading lists. ONLY his reading list. Because, it was NOTHING compared to the depravity that existed on his author's page.

He was so anxious, kneeling there with Vegas' phone in his hand, that it took him three tries to comprehend what he was reading. When he finally understood, he read it again, just to be sure.

"Uh..." Pete said. "Vegas?"

"No judgement," Vegas said, his eyes voraciously scanning Pete's phone like he thought Pete would get scared and snatch the phone back.

"It's not judgement. Really," Pete said. Even though he was judging Vegas, immensely.

Why the fuck, did Vegas’ list of favorite stories to read consist of stories that featured Pete... and Kinn?

Sighing, Vegas looked up from Pete's phone.

"It's not weird."

"It's not?"

"I like reading about you."

"The site pairs me with a hundred other men, Vegas."

"No judgement."

And really, who was Pete to pass judgement, when he knew the skeletons that were in his own closet?

***

"This way."

Pete came home one day and all of Vegas' shirts were gone. He sat in their closet, staring up at the huge, vacant gap like it was a dangerous omen of emptiness.

He stood up as he heard Vegas' voice at the door. Stepping out of the closet, Pete was met with two men who were pushing a trolley of shirts on hangers into the room, while Vegas held the door open for them.

"What is this?"

"New shirts," Vegas said, coming in with a smile on his face.

"You don't need new shirts."

"Of course I do," he said, sauntering into Pete's personal space. "You've written everything you could possibly write about the old shirts. You need new material." He kissed Pete.

Pulling away from Pete, he went after the men with the trolleys, leading them into the closet as Pete stood in place, shell-shocked because he'd only just realised that he'd been hoping, that Vegas would be freaked out about Pete's stories.

Damn it.

Watching Vegas worry about a faceless, nameless stalker who was obsessed with his shirts was an enjoyable experience that Pete hadn't known he would grow to miss.