Work Text:
Vegas stared at the ceiling.
The tiny imperfection in the otherwise flawless plaster above him was his saving grace. He zoned in on that one spot, hoping it would provide a distraction from the events about to take place.
But being part of the main family was like a plague that sank into Porsche's veins. His expression shifted into something dark, something hauntingly familiar, as he stared down at Vegas.
"You really are like a cat," Porsche said, running a hand flat down his side. "Hissing. Biting." Porsche laughed, looking at the fading red mark on his forearm. "Jumpy when cornered."
Vegas snorted, not moving an inch. "So are you going to get me fixed and keep me? Or toss me in the gutter for someone else to find? How about this, just put me down."
"You're not getting out of things that easy." Porsche's smile disappeared, and so did Vegas' aggression.
Whatever. His father was dead. His cousin bested him once again. Who knew how safe he and Macau actually were under Korn's "protection".
He didn't care what happened to him anymore.
This was supposed to help, Porsche said. A way to placate him and a way to rile up Kinn all in one pretty, sexy, sweaty package.
All of it was bullshit.
So he went through the motions of Porsche laying Vegas in bed, stripping him slowly, eyes roving over each bit of skin revealed like he was unwrapping a precious gem. He played along when Porsche kissed him on one eyelid, and then the other, and pressed a knuckle firmly against his taint, making him gasp and swear.
But he kept still.
Porsche smiled down at him, his fingers tracing the delicate bones of Vegas' hips. It tickled, but Vegas tried his hardest not to let even a twitch flutter across his face. He would bite through the inside of his cheek before he let anything show on the outside.
With a disapproving click of his tongue, Porsche bent over to plant a kiss on the side of Vegas' neck. "I know you're stopped up, emotionally. You won't be able to hide from me for long."
The click of the cap on a bottle of lube echoed through the room, and Vegas could only hear the squelching sounds of the liquid as Porsche thickly applied it.
"Ready, sweetheart?" Porsche pinched Vegas' cheek.
Vegas tried to kick him.
Laughing, Porsche grabbed his leg and pinned it to the bed.
Without giving him any other warning, perhaps as punishment, one of Porsche's fingers bullied its way inside of him.
The facade around Vegas crumbled, his brow starting to glisten with sweat, a hissed fuck firing out of his mouth, quiet as a breath.
A fond warmth clouded Porsche's eyes. It made things so much worse, an emotion only able to be identified as adoration shining from his face. It was like the world's brightest sunbeam, and impossible to avoid.
Porsche's fingers curled, the tips pressing against the walls of the tight channel.
Gasping, grabbing onto Porsche's forearm, Vegas kicked more before being pinned again by Porsche's body lying on top of his. His cock was hard, practically throbbing against Vegas' thigh.
"That's the spot, huh?" Porsche rubbed with his fingers, keeping Vegas' body down with his own.
Vegas sobbed. It burst out of him without permission, the too-intense bursts of pleasure-pain Porsche was producing, making him thrash and wail.
Flickers of white ate at the edges of his vision. He wasn't sure whether Porsche was going on for minutes or hours. It all blended into a single wave of blinding sensation.
Finally, Porsche took pity on him and withdrew his fingers.
Vegas' chest heaved. As he was brought back down to reality, he realized just how sweaty he was, the ambient temperature in the room making him shiver, the sheets soaked underneath him.
“All that just from a few fingers, huh? Pretty pathetic, Vegas.”
“Fuck you,” Vegas spat in English, his head still spinning.
“Hmm, close.” Porsche gave him a warm smile, positioning himself over Vegas’ body again.
One of Porsche's hands came down to rest between his ribcage, feeling the thumping of his heartbeat while keeping him pressed down against the bed at the same time.
"Ready?" Porsche asked.
A shrill cry pierced the air, and Vegas' throat was scorched. His eyes widened, realizing that noise was coming from him.
"Fuck you're tight," Porsche said through clenched teeth.
It was only the tip of Porsche's cock that breached him, but it felt like he was being cored like an apple, something to be peeled and devoured and discarded. Wet tear tracks cooled in the air conditioning down the side of his face, disappearing into his hair. His nails bit into the skin of Porsche's shoulder, his heels digging into the mattress to try to escape.
But Porsche was everywhere. His scent was an overwhelming presence on its own, strong and heady. His hands wrapped around Vegas' biceps and pinned him firmly, his legs draped over Vegas' own, so he was stuck.
Not that he would want to leave anyway. Porsche was so big, he already felt like it was going to rip through him with the slightest movement. His breath left him in tiny gasps as Porsche pushed in deeper, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he focused all his concentration on the task at hand.
"You're letting me in so nicely," Porsche laughed, a drop of sweat falling from the tip of his nose down to Vegas' lower stomach. He grabbed the back of Vegas' head, threading his fingers through his hair to grip and pull him up. "See it?"
Porsche was entering him one centimeter at a time, and Vegas watched helplessly as he gradually felt fuller as more and more of Porsche’s cock was fed into him.
Silent tears fell down Vegas’ face and onto Porsche’s thigh. Porsche took a thumb and used it to wipe tears away as he kept grinding, until he found a spot of resistance he couldn’t force his way past.
Vegas nearly bit through his bottom lip trying to keep his noises in. He was not going to give Porsche anything else. He wasn’t going to—
“That’s nice, isn’t it?” Porsche let out a contented sigh, like he was sinking into a hot spring. He trailed slow, wet kisses up the curve of Vegas’ shoulder and nuzzled his nose against Vegas’ neck. “Come on, I know you can do it. Relax.”
Vegas was anything but relaxed as Porsche nudged his hips forward, slipping inside the tiniest bit.
A loud groan rumbled in his chest as Porsche grasped his wrists, sinking his teeth into Vegas’ shoulder as he forced himself in the rest of the way.
Everything went white at the edges. It felt like all of his nerves were on fire, like any sudden movement would break him in half, but he couldn’t keep himself from trying to fight and get away. His half-hard cock was leaking steady streams against his skin, electric shocks of pleasure-pain radiating from every cell in his body.
“Shh,” Porsche hushed him, petting his sweaty back like he was a spooked horse. He brushed Vegas’ hair out of his face with his fingers, then trailed his hand down Vegas’ chest to his stomach.
A pleased noise rang out from above. Porsche pressed down, and Vegas saw stars.
“Look,” Porsche said, directing Vegas’ gaze down to where Porsche’s cock was bulging, stretched out like he was nothing more than a sex doll.
Vegas cried in front of Kinn a lot when he was younger. He’d cried in front of his father many times, and had the bruises to prove it. He cried in front of Pete, and for Pete.
He was not going to cry in front of Porsche.
Porsche withdrew, only the tip of his cock remaining inside of Vegas, and then slid all the way back in.
He did it again, and he did it again, and soon the stabbing, burning pain morphed into sparks of bliss with every thrust.
Porsche’s hand pushed against his abdomen, and a thin line of drool fell from the corner of Vegas’ lips as he was forced to look down at the obscene sight of Porsche’s cock stretching him wide.
Letting out a moan of his own, Porsche rested his forehead against the top of Vegas’ spine as he moved faster. His forearm wrapped around Vegas’ torso, keeping a constant pressure on the cock inside of him.
Vegas couldn’t even breathe. He clutched Porsche’s arms and held on, the side of his cheek pressed into the sheets, barely aware of the tears soaking the fabric.
His orgasm surprised him, letting go over the sheets and his stomach, body curling as cum pulsed steadily out of his cock.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Porsche hissed as Vegas clenched around him. He slowed his thrusts, smiling into Vegas’ neck. “Kinn is going to love this.”
Stomach dropping, Vegas bit his lip and closed his eyes tight. He tried to keep his breathing even as Porsche continued fucking him, and gave in entirely when Porsche grabbed his face to kiss him.
After what felt like hours, Porsche clutched Vegas’ hips hard and came, warmth flooding and filling him even more.
As soon as Porsche released him, Vegas shot off the bed, grabbing and putting his clothes on hastily.
Porsche laughed at him, a dreamy, fucked-out look gracing his handsome face. It was almost painful to look at him. Even now, after what just occurred, Vegas’ cock gave a kick against his thigh, imagining a different scenario where the roles were reversed.
But that wasn’t the point of this. Eye for an eye, that’s what Kinn said.
“Not the type for pillow talk?” Porsche stretched out, lazily watching Vegas dress.
Vegas didn’t say anything. He struggled to keep Porsche’s cum inside, already feeling it trickling down the back of his leg.
There would be time for that later, probably. For now, he was late for his next appointment.