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He’s so lost in the sensation that he almost doesn’t realize it when Vegas lifts his head. Only his tone of voice cuts through the haze in his head when he barks, “Problem?”
Problem? No, no, this is fine, this is good, Vegas can—
The sound of a shoe scuffing against the ground breaks through the rest of the haze. Pete tilts his head to see who and freezes. Fuck. Their target. The assignment. He’d completely forgot.
He only gets a glance though at the befuddled man before Vegas uses the hand still holding his face to pull Pete in close, face to his neck, shifting their bodies slightly, like he’s trying to protect him from sight. Right, Pete realizes, he’s still playing the part.
Because he didn’t forget why they are here, unlike Pete.
“Well?” Vegas snaps again when the man doesn’t answer him. “Do we have a problem?”
“No, no problem. Please, continue,” comes the amused reply as Pete resists the unexpected urge to bury closer into Vegas’s warmth and scent. He needs to focus. Their cover is likely blown. Even if their target hadn’t gotten a good look at Pete’s face, he’s sure to remember Vegas if he saw him again. Why had Pete thought that making out with Vegas was a good idea? Though it might have worked if he hadn’t gotten so distracted. Shit, he’d moaned when Vegas bit his neck. Of course that was going to draw attention. They were—he was making a scene.
He forcibly pushes down the rush of heat he feels at the thought.
Vegas is going to be pissed. Once their target is out of sight, he braces himself as Vegas fists his hair and pulls his head back.
He is wholly unprepared for the look in Vegas’s eyes.
His gaze is piercing and heated, not with anger as Pete expected, but something else entirely. Something worse. Something knowing and transfixed. Something that had Pete’s heart hammering in his chest, breath trapped in his lungs as if Vegas had his hand around his throat.
Vegas’s hand is on his throat, Pete realizes, still trapped by that unwavering gaze. His thumb presses hard into the bruise left by his mouth earlier and Pete’s world goes fuzzy and sharp, narrowing down to nothing but Vegas’s eyes on him and that one throbbing point of contact.
Vegas’s mouth curves into a smirk, briefly breaking eye contact to watch how Pete unconsciously leans into the touch as he presses his whole hand into his neck. When their eyes meet again, the satisfaction Pete sees there exhilarates and terrifies him. He feels stripped and raw.
He feels seen.
“Aren’t you full of surprises, Pete. Let’s see what else you’ve been hiding.”