From Frost to Flame

Part 67: Closer

Vegas didn't step back immediately after their lips parted.
If anything, he leaned forward — just a fraction — as if his body refused to let go of the moment too soon.

Pete blinked up at him, breath still unsteady, still warm between them.
Vegas's hand slid from his jaw to the side of his neck, thumb brushing once, soft... then he exhaled shakily and pulled Pete into him.

Not forceful.
Not desperate.
Just a slow, quiet pull — the kind that felt like he'd been wanting this for longer than he dared to admit.

Pete went willingly.
His arms came up around Vegas's waist, fingers resting lightly at his back, not pulling, just holding.

Vegas rested his forehead against Pete's shoulder first...
then turned slightly until his face found the warm curve where Pete's neck met his collarbone.
His breath warmed the skin there — steady, grounding, almost tender.

Pete swallowed, eyes fluttering shut.

Vegas's body heat wrapped around him instantly — steady, grounding, unmistakably him.
Through the thin office shirts, Pete could feel every slow inhale, every faint quiver of Vegas's breath, every bit of warmth pressed against his chest.

Vegas murmured against the side of his neck, voice barely a whisper, words shaped more from feeling than sound:

"...I really needed this."

Pete's breath hitched — not from shock, but from how raw and quietly fond it sounded.

He tightened his hold just a little, cheek brushing Vegas's temple.

Neither of them moved for a long moment.
They just stood there — breathing the same warm air, feeling each other's heartbeats settle slowly into the same rhythm.

Eventually, Vegas forced himself to loosen his arms, though his hand lingered at Pete's waist a second longer than necessary.

Pete stepped back gently, cheeks flushed, lips still tingling, but his eyes steady and soft.

Vegas looked at him once more — quietly, meaningfully — before Pete turned to leave the cabin.

Pete opened the door slowly, the cool office air brushing against his still-warm skin.
His heartbeat hadn't quite settled — not after that kiss, not after that hug.

He stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

For a moment, he just stood there in the small walkway outside Vegas's cabin, breathing in quietly, trying to pull himself back together. His fingers brushed his own neck where Vegas's breath had been moments ago, and a tiny, helpless smile tugged at his lips.

He wasn't supposed to look so... affected.
Not in the office.
Not when anyone could walk by.

But his legs felt light, almost unsteady — the kind of unsteady that came from being held by someone you wanted far too much.

He took a slow breath, fixed his shirt a little, and forced himself to walk calmly back toward his desk.

Sky passed by him on the way to the copier, giving Pete a curious glance.

"You look flushed," Sky teased lightly. "Did Vegas give you too much work?"

Pete swallowed, forcing a straight face.
"...Something like that," he managed, voice even but his ears still warm.

Sky nodded, buying the explanation easily, and kept walking.

Pete reached his desk and sat down, pretending to reorganize his files even though his hands were trembling faintly. He placed the scheduling folder carefully beside his keyboard — the same folder that had taken him into Vegas's cabin in the first place.