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bitacrytic · 1 year

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Overheat [25]

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If Vegas had ever met someone who was the biggest gossip, it would be Tankhun. Shaking his head, Vegas let himself out of the rehearsal room, knowing that before dinner, Tay and Time and all their combined group of friends would surely know that Vegas had stared at Pete for a little longer than was professionally necessary.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The thirty-foot high billboard on the bridge pass by Ankam was activated. Vegas was on his way to Graham Blitz, when he spotted the three-second clip that was on repeat, on the board. Clearing off to the side, he got out of his car to get a better look. He’d seen the samples on his tablet, but they were nothing compared to the mega-sized clip of Porsche on his back, in a scanty, traditional omega attire that had been censored by a couple of gold trinkets to the nipples. The draping, red fabric that covered his arms and legs, that were attached to the band around his waist, lay on the shimmering ground beneath Porsche, that reflected what was going on above.

Pete was leaning down, his hand on Porsche’s chest as they stared into each other’s eyes, blinking slowly. “Overheat” hung above them, a dull, yet twinkling banner of text that sat against the dark, endless, reflecting ground in the background. Pete was almost unrecognizable with the amount of make-up they’d put on him.

Sexy. Alluring. Daring.

When Vegas noticed the Ohmovit logo, at the bottom of the screen, centered between the other six logos, Vegas frowned.

Chasing the drain of the leak had led to unfortunate assumptions. Because the ramifications for what was shaping up would take them all down if Vegas didn’t tread lightly. It would have been easy to get Kinn involved but Kinn was, as Vegas had been told, taking some time off. And even if he wasn’t, Vegas didn’t have any concrete proof of anything to go running to Kinn.

Gambit was a small company. Just like a thousand others. But their CEO was a recluse, a young mogul who’d come out of nowhere. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, if he wasn’t a young alpha seen in the company of a certain alpha collector.

Then again, that could have been for a bunch of reasons. It was foolish to side-eye any alpha just because he was talking to Tod. Porsche was talking to Tod and that didn't mean anything. Vegas had been planning to talk to him, himself. That didn’t mean anything, either.

But Vegas was hearing too many whispers of The Omega. Not many people knew Tod was an omega. After all, they referred to him as “the alpha’s alpha”. But how many omegas were business giants with dubious means? One. Vegas knew of exactly one such omega. And that omega had made moves on Macau and Porsche. Two people who were directly affiliated with Vegas. It wasn’t a stretch to assume that he might want something from Vegas.

But what?

Ohmovit hired Porsche, even after he’d disclosed his CCD and his undeclared status as an alpha. If they also, somehow, knew that Pete was an omega, that would be something they’d use against him. That would explain why they knew to kidnap and tape him. Ohmovit was affiliated with data companies, communication companies, etc. With Tod’s network of alphas, he could know everything about everyone in the “Overheat” production.

Getting back in his car, he headed for the camp. He had a simple way to clear or confirm his suspicions. The fabricated recordings had helped Vegas catch one of The Omega’s men. Judging from the amount of protection he had, and the respect he got from the men around him, he wasn’t just anybody.

And no matter what Vegas did, the fucker refused to talk. He had recently been rid of three toes on his left foot and still, he held his tongue, offering up nothing but a mouthful of spite to Vegas’ face.

When he got to Graham Blitz, the cast and crew were scattered around the hotel. He saw a bunch of them across the street. He saw a lot in the hallway. He even found some of them in the bar.

“Isn’t it time for rehearsals?” Vegas asked one of the actors.

“Yeah, Pete and Porsche are working on a sex scene, so the director gave us a break.”

Vegas arrived at the rehearsal room, so much faster than was humanly possible.

The door wouldn’t open. When he knocked, there was a turn in the lock and the door clipped open.

“What are you doing here?” Vegas asked.

“Hello to you too,” Tankhun said, opening the door wider to allow him in.

The normally full room was empty, and felt so much bigger with just the six of them present. Tankhun returned to his place by the glass divider, sitting and crossing his legs as he read a book. In the corner, at the back, sat Toss, with his headphones on. He hadn't even realized that Vegas was present. Vegas decided not to disturb him.

On the rehearsal floor, Pete and Porsche were lying down, this time, with Porsche on top. One of his legs was between Pete’s while the other was hanging off to the side at a weird angle. Vegas didn’t know if he was disappointed that they had on clothes or if he was happy about it.

“Can’t I just…” Porsche asked, moving the hanging leg.

“Nope,” the director said. “That leg is blocking your penis from the east gallery.”

“What if I-”

“Look,” the director said with a sigh. “You signed a contract for one showing that won’t be filmed. Which means, the epilogue sex scene. So, even though I desperately want to show the whole world what you’re working with, we cannot do that.”

Giving up, Porsche fell back on the floor.

“Are sex scenes this tiresome?”

“You need practice,” Pete said with a laugh, leaning over Porsche, their faces so close together. “When you get comfortable with it, you won’t even notice.”

“How won’t I notice that I’m trying to hide angles and whatnot?”

“Trust me.” Pete put his head on Porsche's chest. “When you know what to do, once the scene starts, it’s easy to get into it.”

“You think so?” Porsche asked.

“Really?” the director asked, his voice etched with slight displeasure. “I’ve been saying that for weeks. Yet one word from Pete and you’re listening?”

Shaking his head, the director got up and left them on the rehearsal floor, giggling together. The clip of them together flashed the billboard through Vegas’ mind, once again. The intimacy they had with it. Three seconds that should have been nothing. Three seconds of Pete and Porsche staring into each other’s eyes. And yet, it seemed like the world had fallen away. Like the rest of them were forgotten in the vast emptiness of the reflecting glass that was in the clip. If Vegas didn’t know any better, he would believe there was something there.

Maybe on Porsche’s part. But Pete? He was too good of an actor. He’d “fallen in love” with too many of his co-stars for Vegas to believe what he was looking at was anything more than Pete clocking in on his nine-to-five.

Clearing his throat, Vegas caught Pete and Porsche’s attention.

“Hey,” Porsche said. “You’re back.”

“Not really. Pete, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Looking confused, Pete extracted himself from Porsche’s embrace and jogged over to Vegas.

“Is there a problem?”

“Do you remember what the man who took you looked like?”

Scratching his eyebrows, Pete shook his head.

“I didn’t see his face. There was a huge floodlight in my face, the entire time.”

“Did you see his silhouette? Did it remind you of anybody?”

He thought about it and shook his head again so Vegas brought out his phone and opened a bunch of pictures.

“This is Tod Setely,” Pete said, scrolling through. “I don’t know. His body kinda fits a bit. Tod is tall and slightly built with a bit of muscle. And yeah, that guy’s silhouette looked like that. But so do a million other people.”

“Did you remember anything about him?”

“His scent. I was in heat so everything about his scent was really,” he gestured towards himself. “In my face, kinda.”

“Like an alpha’s scent? Or like a fellow omega?”

Pete closed his eyes and frowned.

“No, not like that. He wasn’t rutting or in heat or anything. He was just giving off regular vibes. Like a beta. But distinct. I can’t explain it. If I’m around him again, I’ll know.”

Tod Setely was on suppressants 24/7. His scent would read neutral like a betas to an omega in heat.

Vegas was going crazy. He’d have to find a way to get Pete and Setely in the same room.

When he turned to go, Pete called to him.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you need me for anything?” Pete asked. “Anything at all. I’m here.”

He wanted to be useful. Vegas knew that. But to what extent, Vegas wasn’t aware.

“I’ll let you know if I need you.”

Flashing Vegas a grateful, happy smile, Pete nodded and returned to rehearsal. Vegas couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t stop himself from sparing Pete one last look, watching him walk away in that breezy, sexy way he carried himself. Especially when he knew Vegas was looking.

Catching himself, Vegas looked away.

To find Tankhun watching him with one raised eyebrow.

Oh fuck.

“Not a word,” Vegas said.

“Hey,” Tankhun said, locking his lips and throwing away the key.

But that meant fuck all, because if Vegas had ever met someone who was the biggest gossip, it would be Tankhun. Shaking his head, Vegas let himself out of the rehearsal room, knowing that before dinner, Tay and Time and all their combined group of friends would surely know that Vegas had stared at Pete for a little longer than was professionally necessary.

#Vegas' POV #kinnporsche #vegaspete #actor au #omegaverse

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