I AM POSSESSIVE BOYFRIEND (VEGASPETE)

PROTECT BOYFRIEND

Porsche raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "What kind of spectacle?"

Vegas leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Just trust me," he said. "This will get Pete out of here, and maybe even buy us some time to deal with Kiran once and for all."

Intrigued despite his reservations, Porsche nodded. Time was of the essence, and Vegas's plan, whatever it may be, seemed like their best shot.

Continued further story......

A sly grin spread across Vegas's face as he outlined his audacious plan. "Here's the deal, Porsche," he began, keeping his voice low. "This club has a notorious reputation for...exhibitions. High rollers pay outrageous sums for a taste of the unexpected."

Porsche's jaw clenched. "So, you want to parade Pete around like some prize?"

Vegas shook his head. "No way. Pete wouldn't stand for it, and neither would I. But, here's the twist. We create a spectacle, one so outrageous, so utterly bizarre, that it throws everyone off guard. Kiran included."

Intrigue flickered in Porsche's eyes. "Explain."

Vegas leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need something Kiran wouldn't expect. Something so outlandishly ridiculous, it forces him to take his eyes off Pete for even a second. That's our window."

Porsche pondered for a moment, then a slow smile crept across his face. "I think I have just the idea," he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

**Meanwhile, across the club...**

Pete, oblivious to the brewing plan, fidgeted nervously in his seat. The loud music and pulsing lights were a sensory overload. He scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, a flicker of hope.

Suddenly, a spotlight sliced through the darkness, landing on the center stage. A hush fell over the crowd as a flamboyant figure strutted into the light, a microphone clutched in their sequined hand. It was Porsche, but not quite.

His usually sleek hair was teased into a voluminous mane, his face plastered with outlandish makeup. He wore a bedazzled tuxedo two sizes too small, his movements a caricature of exaggerated grace. The entire effect was so ludicrously over-the-top, the crowd erupted in confused laughter.

Porsche, in his outrageous disguise, launched into a hilariously off-key rendition of a classic pop song. His dancing was more enthusiasm than skill, each move punctuated by a shimmy or a shake. The absurdity of it all was infectious. Even Kiran, for a fleeting moment, couldn't help but be momentarily distracted.

**Back with Vegas...**

Seizing the opportunity created by Porsche's flamboyant distraction, Vegas slipped into action. He grabbed Pete's arm, keeping his voice low. "Come on, let's go!"

Pete, bewildered but trusting, followed Vegas as they navigated the stunned crowd. They weaved through the bewildered patrons, the spectacle of Porsche on stage providing a perfect smokescreen.

Will Vegas and Pete escape the club undetected? Will Porsche's performance buy them enough time? And what awaits them outside the club's walls?

Panic flickered in Vegas's eyes. The unexpected arrival of Kiran's goons threw their carefully crafted plan into disarray. The men, all built like brick walls, materialized around them, effectively cutting off any escape route.

"Vegas, what's happening?" Pete whispered, fear lacing his voice. 

Vegas, ever the strategist, made a split-second decision. "Porsche, take Pete!" he yelled, shoving his boyfriend towards his friend. "Get him out of here. Now!"

Porsche, still in the midst of his outrageous performance, understood with a single glance. He jumped off the stage, weaving through the stunned crowd with surprising agility for someone in his getup. He reached Pete, grabbed his arm, and before anyone could react, sprinted towards the nearest exit.

"Stop them!" Kiran's enraged voice echoed through the club. But the shock of Porsche's appearance and the confusion it caused bought them precious seconds. By the time Kiran's men reacted, Porsche and Pete were already disappearing through the club's back door.

Vegas, however, wasn't as lucky. The goons surrounded him, smirking maliciously. "Looks like the party's over, pretty boy," one of them sneered.

Vegas squared his shoulders, a steely glint in his eyes. "Maybe," he said coolly. "But this doesn't end here. Not by a long shot."

**Outside the club...**

Porsche dragged Pete through a maze of back alleys, adrenaline pumping through his veins. They burst into a deserted side street, collapsing against a wall to catch their breath.

"Whoa!" Porsche exclaimed, momentarily thrown off balance. But then recognition dawned on his face. "Pete? What are you doing here?"

Pete took a deep breath. "Vegas is still there. We need help him.pete says.

Kiran's men are after him and you." Porsche says.

"But why Kiran after me?" Pete stammered, confusion clouding his features. "He even touched me... without permission," he added, his voice dropping to a low, uncomfortable murmur.

Porsche's face flushed crimson. "Oh, I want to beat that Kiran into a bloody pulp!" he growled, his fists clenching involuntarily.

"Whoa, Porsche, cool down," Pete soothed, placing a calming hand on his brother's arm. He knew both Porsche and Vegas were fiercely protective of him, a shield against the darkness that lurked in the shadows. 

"But what was Vegas even doing at that club?" Pete inquired, his brow furrowing in concern. Now Porsche was in hot water, and Pete hated that he couldn't shield him from the fallout. Porsche gulped, his mind racing for a plausible explanation. 

"I... I didn't know he was there," he stammered, "but Kiran's a dangerous man, Pete. You have to stay away from him. No good can come from being around someone like that." Porsche says.

A flicker of suspicion crossed Pete's eyes. "Pete, I know you care about Vegas a lot," Porsche began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "but there's something he's not telling you. A big secret." The words tumbled out before Porsche could stop himself ,a careless mistake fueled by the pressure of the situation.

Confusion contorted Pete's features. "What secret?" he demanded, his voice laced with a newfound urgency.

Seeing the hurt and betrayal dawning in Pete's eyes, Porsche's heart sank. He knew he'd messed up royally, but the truth was a tangled web, and he wasn't sure how to untangle it without potentially hurting Pete even more. "It's nothing," he mumbled, forcing a smile. "Let's just get you home, okay?"

Pete, his mind a whirlwind of questions, reluctantly followed Porsche out of the dimly lit hallway. They mounted Porsche's sleek motorcycle, the roar of the engine momentarily drowning out the disquiet gnawing at Pete's gut. 

Meanwhile, back in the heart of the chaotic club, Vegas stood amidst a throng of hulking figures, a smirk dancing on his lips. Fear was a stranger to his eyes; instead, they burned with a steely resolve. This wasn't just about escape, it was about vengeance. He had waited for this moment for a long time, a chance to confront the man who had ripped a gaping hole in his life – Kiran, the man responsible for the cold-blooded murder of Vegas's father's most trusted bodyguard.  

The air crackled with anticipation as Vegas locked eyes with Kiran across the dance floor. A silent challenge passed between them, a promise of a brutal confrontation that would decide their fates. 

**To be continued...**

Will Porsche manage to contain the truth about Vegas's secret from Pete any longer? And in the heart of the club, will Vegas's thirst for vengeance be quenched, or will Kiran prove to be a more formidable opponent than anticipated?