Vegas and Pete: the series

Pillow Talk

POV Vegas

I'm staring at him, like he's some kind of modern marvel, to me he seems like one. I've never felt this way before. I didn't even know there was such a feeling. One of peace and relaxation, harmony.

Pete is laid out on the bed, his head facing the foot of it. I'd washed him down while he slept, took off his bandages, put his boxers back on for him, and re-cuffed one of his wrist. He hadn't so much as twitched. I smile to myself as I brush the hair out of his eyes as I sit next to him, my legs dangling over the bottom of the bed.

I'd worn him out. Hell, we'd worn each other out.

I brush my thumb over his lips and lean down to place a soft kiss on them. Then I scoot forward so I can lay on his shoulder and still look at him. I pull his arm over and drape his forearm over my shoulder so I can hold his hand. He stirs with the movement and his tired eyes blink lazily in the cerulean blue shaded room. The light shines off his skin illuminating his radiant features.

He's so...I hate to use the words beautiful or gorgeous as they seem like cheap platitudes, ones I'd use on others, so I try something else."Do you know how sexy you are?" I ask him, and he shifts his head to look at me for only a second before murmuring a yes. I smile at that, at him still playing with me, teasing me.

I shift, pulling my eyes from him and looking up into the dark ceiling above us. "At first, I thought I was a freak." I whisper into the shadowed space. "Until now."

Besides the fact that I'd always been into men, if that wasn't enough, I was exposed to sex quite early and not all of it had been my own choice. The ones that were, well, those first few I remember vividly, because I'd hurt them. I got off on it, and they of course thought I was a freak, I scared them. I scared myself, was disgusted with myself, I thought there was something seriously wrong with me that I always wanted to hold them down, bind them, have them completely at my mercy. I wanted to be in total control.

I went to some dark places to find what I was seeking, but even though I live in this world, finding somewhere and someone who would be discreet, was never easy. And it was always an exchange. There was never anything beyond physical need that played into it. The freak in me simply demanded to be let out for a while.

"You just have to accept and be true to who you are." Pete says lightly, his voice husky with drowsiness.

"Like you?" I ask him.

Pete pulls his eyes away from mine. "I just live in the present. What I'm feeling, that's all I think about."

I smile at the simplicity of his words. "How can you live in this filthy world?" I tease him. For someone whose heart seemed better than most. Who believed in the words spoken at that temple even if he couldn't abide by them. For someone who smiled at me and meant it. Who kissed me and meant it. Who brought something out in me that I didn't even know existed anymore.

"Why?" Pete says, turning back to look at me. "Are you gonna say that I'm a good guy?" His eyes told me that he wasn't, to know that he wasn't.

Yet all I can seem to do is smile at his statement, because I know and it doesn't bother me. "No," I tell him. I know he's not a good guy, and doesn't particularly want to be one either. He does what he does with nothing more than loyalty and persistence. It's so simple that I can't help the curves in my lips. "You're just a fool."

Pete doesn't seem to like my comment and he frowns and pulls his hand out of mine. I smile at his grumpy expression. I'd meant it as a compliment, a snarky one. Pete wasn't stupid, not by any means, but a person who lived day by day, to me, who always tried to plan everything ahead, anticipate every move. It was an unthinkable concept. I marveled at how he'd managed to survive on sheer will, on simply doing what he wanted to do, without a thought beyond his own feelings and loyalties. There was a foolish purity in that.

I move my head so that it rests more on Pete's shoulder and move my hand to caress the side of his face. He's not looking at me anymore, still seeming grumpy about my comment. I wanted to sooth that frown between his brows so I leaned over and kissed it softly. Pete lets out a long breath and his eyes flutter closed. He's asleep again within a few moments.

So I get him better dressed, in a sleeveless white crew neck shirt and my favorite pair of gray sweats, and then tuck him into the bed. I grab some pajamas for myself as well and then snuggle in right beside him. I pull him into me, his back resting against my chest. I hold him tightly and some part of me right then wishes that I'll never have to wake up.

POV Pete

I was exhausted, happily exhausted, blissfully exhausted, whatever you want to name it. I lay on the bed with Vegas beside me. He'd diligently cleaned me up and put my boxer back on for me. He brushes the fringe of my hair and even that light touch sends skitters of heat through me. The touch is so gentle it almost feels like his hands shake as he does it, as if scared he'll wake me. I have been awake, just too tired to bother opening my eyes or moving at all.

I feel Vegas shift on the bed as he moves to lay down on my shoulder and positions my arm in a weird way so he can hold my hand. I can feel his eyes on me, and I can't say I hate it. "Do you know how sexy you are?" He asks me, and my tired brain barely registers the compliment before I simply hum my agreement. Though honestly the word belongs to Vegas, the damn bastard was a near living personification of it.

Vegas moves slightly, taking his gaze off me. I blearily pry my eyes open to see him staring at the ceiling above as if communing with the darkness.

"At first, I thought I was a freak." He whispers into the quiet of the room. Then he turns his eyes to me, a gratitude and heavy presence of something else swirls in his mahogany eyes as they meet mine. "Until now." Until you, he seems to say.

I find that hard to believe, even though I want to. But I know the feeling he's talking about. To want something you're not getting but not know what it is. And then when you finally do and it feels great, you look back on what you've done and there's a feeling of shame, of self-deprecation. You question why? Why do I have to be like this? Why can't I just be normal?

After how my father had treated me, how could I want the person I spend my most vulnerable self with to be someone who controls me. But it's not that. I crave the freedom that comes with not having to be in control.

I turn to meet Vegas eyes. "You just have to accept it and be true to who you are." I'm not saying that I don't struggle with the same feelings. Most of the time when it came to sex I simply tried to please my partner. What I wanted had always mattered less to me.

"Like you?" Vegas asks me.

I turn back to look up at the ceiling. "I just live in the present." I told him. " What I'm feeling, that's all I think about."

It was as hard as it was easy, to care and yet not worry. To be loyal and choose that loyalty everyday, not out of habit, but out of want. To see others through gray lenses, and let my feelings decide who I chose to stand with.

"How can you live in this filthy world?" Vegas teases me. He smiles and looks at me so softly, some part of me ranckles at the sight.

"Why? Are you gonna say that I'm a good guy?" Because I can assure you I'm not. I stopped counting the bodies a long time ago, and that's only the ones I took personally, not the ones associated with the people I protect and their businesses. I wasn't some soft gentle flower untainted by the storm.

"No," Vegas replies to me. "You're just a fool." He smiles as he says it, like he's won a game. The look irritates me and I wrench my hand out of his and turn away from him. Vegas just continues to smile and moves his head closer to me.

I wasn't a fool, and I definitely wasn't Vegas' fool, if that's what he thought. I wasn't a toy for him to play around with, or a pet that he could train to do tricks. Vegas seems to sense my mood and he tries to coax me by running his dexterous fingers over my hair and cheek. He tilts my head back toward him, not letting me look away. Then he leans forward and places a soft kiss between my eyes.

I shudder down to my toes. I hate that I do, but the soothing nature of the gesture flows through me and I find my eyes shutting and my body relaxing as he seems to envelope all my senses. I hate that I like it, that I want him, that I know I'm going to wake up later and this won't have been a dream.