BL ONESHOTS NO.5

⁹³⁰🥵Vegas x Pete x Ken

Requested.

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In the sweltering heat of a Vegas afternoon, a man named Ken stumbled through the crowded sidewalks, his eyes squinting against the neon lights. His shirt, once crisp and white, now clung to his sweaty body like a second skin. Ken had the kind of wide-eyed curiosity that seemed perpetually on the verge of being snuffed out by the harsh realities of the world. His nose, slightly crooked from a teenage fight, was buried in a paper map, navigating the labyrinth of casinos and nightclubs. The city's relentless energy pulsed around him, a siren's call that whispered promises of fortune and debauchery.

Ken's friends, Vegas and Pete, had warned him about the dangers of the city. They had painted a picture of a place where good intentions were swallowed whole by the glitzy façade, leaving only hollow shells of regret in their wake. But Ken was not one to be easily swayed by warnings. He had come to Vegas for adventure, and adventure he would find. The three of them had agreed to meet later at their hotel, but Ken couldn't resist the allure of the neon jungle that beckoned him closer.

"You'll never find what you're looking for in those places, Ken," Pete had said, his voice thick with concern. Vegas had nodded solemnly, his piercing gaze a silent confirmation of Pete's words. But Ken had only laughed, patting his friend's shoulder with a grin that was half-bravado, half-desperation. "You guys worry too much," he had said, and with a jaunty wave, he disappeared into the throng.

Now, as the sun dipped below the skyline, casting the city into a twilight of artificial glow, Ken found himself standing before a club that seemed to throb with a rhythm all its own. The bass line of a distant song vibrated in his chest, and he could feel the excitement of the night pressing against the walls of the alley. He had never been the type to heed warnings, especially not when the prize was so tantalizingly close. So, with a deep breath and a silent apology to his friends, he stepped through the velvet curtains and into the abyss.

The club was a sensory assault, a cacophony of lights and sounds that seemed to swirl around him like a tornado of color. Ken's eyes darted from the flashing strobes to the scantily-clad dancers, and his heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear. He had never felt so alive, so alive and so very, very lost. He pushed through the writhing bodies, searching for a place to catch his breath, when he heard the unmistakable sound of his name being called over the din. He turned, his heart leaping, expecting to find a friendly face. But the faces that stared back at him were not those of friends.

Vegas and Pete stood at the edge of the dance floor, their expressions a blend of anger and disappointment that was all too clear even in the pulsing neon lights. Ken's stomach sank as he realized his mistake. He had gone against their wishes, and now he would face the consequences. Pete's fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Ken's. Vegas, on the other hand, had a smirk playing on his lips, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Ken knew that smirk all too well; it was the one he wore when he had an idea, and usually, that idea meant trouble for the person on the receiving end.

"You disobeyed us," Vegas said, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate with the bass of the music. "And now, you're going to get what you deserve." Ken felt his knees go weak, his breath catching in his throat. The crowd around them parted as if by an invisible force, leaving the three of them standing in a circle of judgment. "Pete here," Vegas continued, gesturing to his friend, "thinks you need to be taught a lesson."

Pete stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You're going to pay for this, Ken," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. Ken's heart hammered in his chest as Pete's hand wrapped around the back of his neck and guided him through the club. Vegas followed close behind, his smirk growing wider with each step. They led him to a back room, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and lust. It was dimly lit, with a single chair in the center, and Ken's stomach turned as he realized what was about to happen.