Hold me close and we'll just leave it all behind

And you should think about the consequence

"Damn, beautiful," Vegas chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow, "You pack a punch."

Pete snorted, "You weren't so bad yourself. Thought I was gonna have to dust you off the canvas a few times there."

Their playful banter hung in the air, charged with a certain electricity that had been building with every exchanged blow during their sparring session. They'd both started slow, testing each other out, but their movements had become progressively more fluid, more instinctive, a silent dance of aggression and respect.

Pete pushed himself off the ropes, a slow stretch sending a ripple across his well-defined muscles, "How about we call it a draw for today?"

"Sounds good to me," Vegas agreed, his gaze lingering on Pete a beat too long. "First time here?"

Pete nodded his head. "Yea, I recently got my membership. What about you? Why are you here Mr...?"

"It's Vegas. Figured this place would be a good way to blow off some steam," Vegas gestured vaguely at the ring.

Pete leaned closer, a playful glint in his eyes, "Steam, huh? Or maybe you just like the company of a good looking punching bag?"

Vegas laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Maybe a little bit of both," he admitted, his voice dropping a notch lower, "Though, I have to say, you're definitely more interesting to spar with than a bag."

Their gazes locked, the air crackling with unspoken attraction. Vegas felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a while. Here, in this sweaty gym, he felt a connection he couldn't quite explain.

He cleared his throat, breaking the charged silence, "So," he began, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, "you ever considered sparring outside the ring?"

Pete's eyebrows shot up in surprise, before a slow smile spread across his face. "Depends," he drawled, his voice also holding a glint of mischievousness, "What kind of sparring are you thinking of?"

Vegas laughed, the sound echoing playfully in the empty gym, "Well," he said, reaching into his gym bag and pulling out his phone, "why don't you give me your number and we can discuss it over some post-sparring coffee?"

A genuine smile lit up Pete's face. "Now that," he said, taking the phone Vegas offered, "is an offer I can't refuse." He typed in his number, his fingers lingering on the screen a moment too long.

As they exchanged numbers and names, the air was filled with a new kind of energy. It wasn't just the physical exertion of their sparring session; it was a spark, a potential for something more.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Khun Korn is waiting in the conference room with Khun Kinn," Chan said as he bowed down to Gun and Vegas before leading them the way.

Though the relations between the two brothers were always strained, Kinn and Vegas were far better. Of course the constant comparison never stopped, it was their mothers who ensured that the next generation of Theerapanyakuls lived as comfortably as they could in that family.

Entering in, Vegas bowed to his uncle as a sign of respect and noticed a sympathetic look on his cousin's face. 'Another session of criticism... fuck it'

The entire loss faced by Vegas' company was the fault of Gun who struggled in keeping his mouth shut. He riled up some of their close investors in pure spite of his brother which resulted in them withdrawing their funds. Gun realised he fucked up and blamed it all on Vegas to save his face.