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Kinn had always loved his conniving cousin, Vegas.
It wasn’t the type of family love everyone had expected him to have. Or as he’d expected himself to have. No. He loved Vegas, and it wasn’t brotherly or cousinly or anything in that manner.
Kinn’s love for Vegas made him a jealous monster whenever he thought of his cousin fucking some random fling or one of his ex-lovers — mostly his ex-lovers. His love for Vegas made him hungry and made him lose sleep or made him wake up at night with his cock throbbing. Kinn knew these abnormal thoughts were the highest form of taboo wherever in the world he may be. He wasn’t foolish; he knew it was wrong, so-so wrong. Despicable — disgusting, even. He still loved Vegas, though. Secretly. He would love his dear bastard cousin for as long as he had air in his lungs and blood in his veins.
However, he promised himself he would never, ever confess those deep-rooted, fucked-up desires of love he carried for his traitorous cousin to anyone. No one mustn’t know. Not his father, or his brothers or friends — not even Vegas. Kinn would die with his secret. He would admire Vegas from afar. He would let his jealousy consume him, and he would do nothing.
At least, that was the plan until something rather awful happened…
Like every other week, the families joined for a business meeting.
Kinn’s uncle, Gun, was there. Macau was there, too. And so was Vegas.
Kinn watched them cautiously as they gathered around the table, smiling at each other while they opened their seats, pretending to be this perfect, happy, loving family. Kinn could see through their pretentiousness, though. It was all an illusion; they were far from perfect.
Gun was a ruthless man, and he was a more sinister father to his children.
Before, maybe a year or two, Kinn would’ve never believed Vegas; the pompous prick of all people would allow his father — or anyone — to lay a finger on him. The thought seemed absurd, considering Vegas played the role of a dangerous man wherever he went. A month ago, though, Kinn had witnessed the abuse with his very eyes…
Gun had snatched Vegas by the air in the courtyard of the minor family’s home and tossed him on the dirty floor as if he meant nothing — as if he was nothing — before he ripped through Vegas’ skin with his belt buckle, tearing his flesh. Vegas was a brave, strong man, though. He did not cry, nor did he scream. He did not beg, nor did he fight back. He took the beatings like a brave man, and he had picked himself up afterward and limped inside the house after Gun had left him lying, whimpering, and in pain.
The sight made Kinn sick to his stomach. It made him want to kill Gun, too. Maybe slice both of his arms off so he could never hurt Kinn’s precious Vegas again. He had to restrain himself, though. For the sake of himself and the sake of his family’s reputation. He could do nothing.
Today Vegas came in with bruises on his face which he had done a poor job of hiding with the wrong color foundation. He took small steps, too. And he limped every so often; no one would’ve noticed if they weren’t paying attention. And despite this, Vegas seemed to try hard to put up a front, a fake, mean persona to hide away the obvious pain no one other than Gun could inflict on him.
Vegas probably believed no one would notice.
He was wrong, though.
Kinn noticed everything.
Halfway through the meeting, Korn, Kinn’s father, mentioned the Chinese had terminated an upcoming deal because of the minor family’s negligence. The Chinese had been a great help and a powerful ally to them throughout the years. If something went wrong, billions would go down the drain overnight, and their support system would crumble, leaving them weak in the presence of their enemies.
Gun had smiled and tried to brush it off as a minor issue — “An easily fixable issue,” he had said.
At that, Korn had argued, “ It was because of Vegas’s sudden outburst — the boy has too many anger issues."
It was then, something seemed to snap inside Gun’s head, making his eyes turn back.
Everyone noticed it; none said anything, though.
It was when Gun suddenly got up, Kinn noticed the fright in his cousin’s eyes. Vegas seemed to shrink in his seat, and his body tensed up, preparing for his father’s wrath. And like before, Kinn, helpless, could only watch on as Gun slapped Vegas straight across his face, leaving an imprint.
The sound was something else, too. It echoed through the walls while Vegas went stumbling off his chair, falling on the floor as unshed tears gathered near his eyes, begging to spill.
When Macau attempted to help his brother, Vegas raised an arm, stopping him in his tracks. Fortunately, Macau did so without question, most likely afraid of his father lashing out at him, too.
For the next couple of seconds, the room spun into a deafening silence.
Gun had humiliated Kinn’s Vegas, and Vegas forced himself to endure it all.
Kinn watched, his jaw clenched so tight, his teeth might shatter — he didn’t care, though, as Vegas slowly gathered himself off the floor. And though Kinn didn’t know how to feel about this, a boiling rage consumed him, and his fingers itched for his gun, desperately wanting to put a bullet between Gun’s eyes.
When Vegas finally rose to his feet, his face scrunched up as if in pain while tears were leaking out of his eyes, he stared at everyone in the room in a death glare before he stormed outside, subbing the bodyguards away who tried to offer some assistance. Seeing this, Kinn’s heart cracked.
After the meeting, Gun and Macau left.
Gun had simply assumed Vegas had left earlier after the incident. So it wasn’t a wonder why no men from the minor family cared enough to search for him. However, Kinn had a feeling Vegas hadn’t left the house, and it confirmed his intuition when he heard muffled sobs coming from the guest bathroom.
As quiet as a mouse, Kinn opened the bathroom door just in time to see Vegas; his shoulders slumped over as he stared at himself in the mirror with empty eyes. He didn’t even realize Kinn was there — Kinn wasn’t sure Vegas cared if he knew, either.
What caused Kinn’s eyes to double, though, wasn’t Vegas’ steel face. It wasn’t his never-ending silent tears, or those heartbreaking, stifled sobs, either. No. It was the gut-wrenching sight of his cousin, clenching down on a pocketknife as he sliced deep cuts on his arms, inching his way to his wrist, trying to end his life.
It was as if killing himself would somehow drown out the humiliation his father put him through.
For a moment, Kinn saw red.
When Vegas was seconds away from slicing through his wrist, Kinn pounced on him and snatched the pocketknife away. “What are you doing?!” he yelled, hating how his voice shook.
For a passing second, Vegas stared at him with so much hatred. Kinn’s heart clenched so tight, he was afraid it might burst. “Give it back.” Vegas sprang forth, trying to snatch the knife back from Kinn. Kinn wouldn’t let him, though. He was stronger and taller, and Vegas wasn’t in the proper condition to fight back. “Fuck, I said give it back!” Vegas snarled, readying to throw hands.
“Were you trying to kill yourself?” Kinn asked in disbelief. He knew Vegas was a little crazy. He’d never expected him to try something as foolish as this though. “Are you crazy?!”
“Everyone always favored you — so why do you care?” Vegas hissed, attacking Kinn, trying to get the knife back. “Just leave me alone, Kinn! I can’t live like this anymore!” he yelled in a broken tone. It was so unlike Vegas, and Kinn didn’t know what to do — he didn’t know what to say.
“No,” he said instead, tossing the knife to the other end of the room.
Seeing this, Vegas’ anger intensified, and he punched Kinn in a blink of an eye.
Kinn quickly regained his stance, and before he knew it, they were fighting. Slamming each other against the countertop before tumbling to the floors. Tears continued spilling from Vegas’ eyes, undoubtedly blinding his vision. And before Vegas could react, Kinn was already on top of his lower stomach. Chest pressed against chest, face inches apart, pinning him down as he gripped Vegas’ wrists in a tight squeeze at the sides of his face in the hopes he might stop fighting.
It was inappropriate, how they looked.
The closeness warmed Kinn’s body in unimaginable ways, and he wished they could stay that way forever. Vegas didn’t care, either. Or he was too drunk on his emotions to notice their strange display of closeness.
Vegas didn’t stop, though. He continued to thrash about, kicking and cursing — calling Kinn every vulgar name in the book. However, when the fight left Vegas’ body entirely, and he couldn’t curse anymore, his body went lax on the floors, leaving behind broken sobs.
Vegas squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly not wanting Kinn to keep staring at them with so much pity. “I’m so fucking tired of everything,” he cried, his voice cracking. “I will never be good enough…”
Kinn loved Vegas, and to see him break down and cry beneath him for the first time, the thoughts about keeping his feelings for Vegas hidden seemed to have disappeared. They no longer existed. In Kinn’s mind, he needed to show Vegas he loved him. Showed Vegas he cared about him — that Vegas was more than enough.
Without thinking, Kinn gently thumbed away the tears from the corners of Vegas’ eyes as if they were lovers. “Vegas, you’re good enough,” he whispered in assurance. “You’ve always been good enough.”
Vegas seemed shocked by this change in his cousin’s voice, and he narrowed his eyes at Kinn. They were no more hatred in them anymore, though. Just… Confusion.
“What games are you playing?” Vegas asked, tears brimming down his eyes while he stared deep into Kinn’s eyes, probably searching for answers to questions he knew nothing of. “Cousin, are you trying to humiliate me further?!”
Kinn let go of Vegas’ wrists to caress the sides of Vegas’ face. “No,” he nodded, chanting over and over like a broken record. "No."
“Then what do you want?” Vegas asked, barely above a whisper, before he pressed his face against Kinn’s chest, sobbing. “What do you want — you’ve got everything. What else could you possibly want?”
“I want…” Kinn breathed out, trying to wipe away the tears from Vegas’ face. They wouldn’t stop fucking flowing, though! “I want…”
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!”
“You,” Kinn gritted out. “I want you.”
Vegas’ watery eyes doubled at the odd confession as he stared at Kinn’s face with confusion? Shock? — whatever it might’ve been, quickly disappeared when an impatient Kinn bent down, pressing his long-neglected lips against Vegas’ soft, tear-soaked ones, and kissed him — with all tongue and spit in a ravenous kiss.
Vegas tasted like… Like absolute bliss — like a drug on Kinn’s tongue. Kinn couldn’t seem to get enough.
Slowly, Kinn threaded his long fingers through Vegas' hair, twisting and tugging while Vegas stayed pliant. And when a moan, a long dragged-out thing left Vegas' mouth, Kinn grinned into the kiss.
Call Kinn a madman for enjoying this sinful act. He couldn’t get enough of his cousin’s pathetic whines or his unholy touches, or his addicting taste, though.
It wasn't long after Vegas surrendered, lazily twirling his tongue with Kinn's before their moans gradually turned loud, filling up the bathroom walls with cries of pleasure.
“I’ve always loved you,” Kinn confessed between kisses.
“You’re more messed up than I thought, cousin," Vegas hummed after a long pause, sounding a bit breathless while he chased Kinn’s mouth like a starving man, desperately trying to get Kinn's tongue deeper into his scorching mouth.
Kinn pulled back to look Vegas in the eyes, and Vegas almost let out a whining sound. "Stay with me," he said. "I'll make sure your father never hurt you again. Stay with me, Vegas. You and Macau. I'll protect you both."
Vegas' tear-covered face twisted into something strange... Into a wave of raging anger before morphing into defeat, into acceptance.
"And if I say yes..." Vegas said, and fresh tears were clouding his eyes. "Will you kiss me again, cousin?"
Kinn's eyes swelled with joy before he pressed his forehead again Vegas' own. " Yes," he answered a bit too excitingly. " Yes," he repeated, pressing his lips against Vegas' ones for a second time. " Yes ," he chanted into the kiss.
When Vegas moaned into his mouth, this time hungrily kissing him back, it was then and there — Kinn knew; Vegas belonged to him. And this time, Kinn swore to himself; he wouldn’t allow anymore to come between them. No matter how fucked up they might be.