#but yeah anyway VP deserve to have cringefail sex more often I will die on my hill

[yujeong]

Oooo.... VP smut prompt? I would love to see your take on Pete's thoughts/perspective during the first time they have sex post-canon/hospital!

Pixeeeeeel, thank you so much for sending me this prompt, you're so sweet and thoughtful 🥺 This is actually something that's been in my thoughts for as long as I've been a fan of them: VP's first time post-canon is a very, very intriguing subject matter to me, though I believe my view of it isn't that... well, interesting. As I've mentioned before in an Ask Game, I don't believe VP will be having much sex post-canon (or at least not much penetrative sex) due to everything that has happened to them. Now, the following is just one idea that came to me as I was playing with your prompt in my head. I'm insecure af about it, but I'm sharing it regardless because that was the point of asking for prompts in the first place hahaha. [CW: blowjob, handjob, cockwarming]

Pete's head was fuzzy, but not as much as he needed. There was warmth at the pit of his stomach, spreading through him in slow bursts as Vegas was opening him up with his fingers, but it dissipated immediately after every thrust. The noises Vegas was making while sucking Pete off had been tantalizing at first, almost effective, but they were beginning to aggravate him.  It wasn't enough. Fuck, it wasn't enough. Vegas himself had grown rigid below him. He had started this by going slowly, teasing Pete with a good time, but his movements now were frantic and desperate. He looked seconds away from breaking. Pete's breathing had grown shallow.  They had foolishly wanted to recreate it. It was the reason Vegas had used the rope, tying Pete's hands above his head before doing anything else. (He forgot the part where Pete offered the rope to him, and presented his wrists to be bound. He didn't really mind Vegas' transgression. He had made his choice already.) They should have known. This wasn't the same room. They weren't the same people. There was a lot more to mourn than just a tiny hedgehog. "Vegas." It was the third time Pete addressed him. Vegas groaned loudly around his dick, pressing his teeth onto the soft skin. Pete hissed. "Please don't bite it." He was certain it wouldn't hurt as much as the car battery, but he wasn't eager to find out. Vegas gasped as he took Pete's cock out of his mouth. He removed his fingers from Pete's hole and squeezed Pete's thighs aggressively with both hands. His nails dug into them; it would leave marks for sure. "Why aren't you hard?" he yelled, the pain clear in his voice. Pete could see the agony in his eyes, the unshed tears. There wasn't anything he could do about it. "Untie me." He was capable of doing it himself just fine, but that would make everything worse.  Vegas reacted as if he got slapped. "Pete, no, no I can... Pete, I can-" "Vegas," Pete said, his tone harsh. He mellowed it as he added, "it's ok, just untie me." Vegas did so with trembling fingers. Pete could see the thoughts circling around his head. He could almost hear them. Once free, he sprang into action, ignoring the numbness in his hands. He grabbed Vegas' half-hard cock and started stroking it, his movements clumsy and amateurish, his other hand grabbing Vegas' T-shirt in order to bring him closer for a kiss.  Vegas yelped and laughed as he returned it, his breath hot on Pete's lips. He tried to help Pete jerk him off, but Pete didn't let him. It wasn't difficult to get him there, anyway; he was fully hard in a matter of minutes. "You wanted me to fuck you, baby?" Vegas asked with a smug expression plastered on his face. He was staring at Pete and his attempts at putting Vegas' cock inside him, with no success. "You could have just asked." It sounded so fake, Pete barely managed to hide an eye roll. "Don't call me that," he murmured. He could feel his face heating up. "Just... help me out." Vegas smirked and entered Pete with ease, moaning in satisfaction. His eyes fluttered as he did, which gave Pete the advantage he needed to immobilize him, before he could move further. He had Vegas trapped on top of him with nowhere to go, using his limbs to keep him in place - his legs on Vegas' lower back, his arms on Vegas' torso - and his voice to put some sense into the idiot who couldn't see how overexerted he had gotten from all of this. "Vegas, stop struggling, you'll hurt yourself." He didn't listen. He kept fidgeting violently, growling as he bit Pete's shoulder in frustration, trying to break free. He kept at it until he was out of breath, until his muscles gave up on him. Vegas hid his face at the crook of Pete's neck, and cried. Pete relaxed his hold. He was caressing Vegas' oily hair, waiting for him to calm down. "I miss you," he told Pete when he stopped, his voice hoarse from the bile still stuck in his throat. He sounded so small and vulnerable. It made Pete want to cry, too. He couldn't. Instead, he abided by the words that were tattooed on his skin. "I miss you, too."