What Happened in Vegas

by Gwen Martin

  “No,” he replies, eyes softened. “Not at all.”

  Luke captures Jesse’s thumb into his mouth sucking around the digit. Jesse’s mouth parts as he lets out a breathless laugh, biting his bottom lip to control the groan that gathers in the back of his throat. When Luke pulls back and releases Jesse’s thumb from the heat of his mouth, placing a small kiss on the tip, Jesse is hard as a rock. He scoots closer and presses his forehead against Luke’s and closes his eyes.

  “You,” Jesse whispers, “may be the death of me.”

  Luke chuckles, stealing a kiss before taking his time to climb out of bed. “Nah,” he begins. “Cause then where else would I get my fun? Let’s shower and get to that brunch thing before Brideshilla calls trying to make you feel guilty for punking out.”

  Jesse can’t argue with that.

  True to Luke’s prediction, Sheila calls right after their shower.

  To be fair, their shower took almost half an hour. Jesse is still reeling from the slack-jawed bliss of Luke’s face when Jesse pushed him against the cold tile wall and wrapped his hand around his dick, tugging slow until he was fully hard. He smirks as he pulls on his jeans, when he remembers the breathless demand of, “I need, I need—” right before Luke came all over Jesse’s hand and kissing him with a force that sent Jesse reeling.

  Of course, Sheila plans to ruin that post I-Had-An-Orgasm-In-The-Shower glow. It’s her mission in life, Jesse swears.

  “Are you guys coming?” Sheila asks by way of greeting. “I called three times. Where are you?”

  Jesse peers over at Luke standing naked in front of his duffle bag searching into the depths as he tries to find whatever he’s looking for. The sight makes his dick twitch.

  “Uh, kinda slept in a bit,” Jesse says distractedly.

  “Uh huh,” Sheila responds, unamused. “Listen, Sophie is verging on hanger—” Jesse hears the tinny voice in the background yell out, “Am not!” but Sheila continues with, “So we’ll just take the rental limo over and meet you there. It’s a buffet with bottomless mimosas.”

  “Yeah, no problem,” Jesse mutters, bending over to pull his foot into his boot.

  “And then after brunch, we’re planning on doing the spa. The one you opted out of.”

  Jesse hums noncommittal, too focused on the way the early afternoon sunlight spills over Luke’s naked back. Jesse wants to trace the smattering of freckles with his tongue, map the constellations that mark Luke’s skin and commit it to memory.

  “Are you even paying attention?”

  Sheila’s sounding tetchy, a clear indication that she’s feeling ignored. Jesse sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Just a bit hungover.”

  “Seriously? If you don’t want to—”

  “Sheila, stop getting your goddamn garter belt in a fucking twist. We’ll be there soon. Take a shot or something, it’s Vegas, for Christ’s sake.” Jesse hangs up before she can respond, turning his phone on silent.

  Luke whistles low, jumping in place to pull his tight jeans on. Jesse’s mouth waters at the way the denim clings to his ass. “That sounded heated.”

  “Is it ever not with Sheila?” Jesse grumbles, and Luke laughs.

  “Touché, sir.” Luke slips on his shoes and heads to the door. “The chariot awaits, madam.” When he catches Jesse’s raised an eyebrow at the elevator, Luke wiggles his phone in his hand. “I called an Uber. I refuse to carpool with Unfunny Sam.”

  “Sophia.”

  Luke hitches a shoulder. “Same difference.”

  Jesse doesn’t hide his smile.

  Brunch isn’t as bad as Jesse expects. Luke makes a point to sit furthest away from Sheila and Ross, and they find themselves nestled next to Sheila’s best friend Marina. Jesse likes Marina; they always got along well when he and Sheila were dating. She’s known Sheila since they were both kids and understands a lot of Sheila’s antics. Whenever Sheila would go off about Jesse, Marina would often be sympathetic to Jesse, taking him out for coffee and shrugging her shoulders as if to say, that’s just how she is.

  Her cotton candy pink hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, and she rolls her eyes when Sheila goes on about something regarding the wedding venue and issues.

  “I swear, most of the wedding drama is literally because of her,” Marina mutters, picking up her mimosa and taking a small sip. Her eyes flicker to Jesse’s hand on the table. He tracks her gaze and realizes it’s landed on the ring. “Congratulations, by the way.”

  Jesse’s heart hammers in his chest, and he swallows hard. “Thanks.”

  “Sheila was not pleased when she found out.” When Jesse blinks in confusion, Marina raises an eyebrow. “On Instagram? She’s been getting slammed with DMs about your nuptials.”

  “Oh god,” Jesse groans, covering his face in embarrassment.

  “Don’t mind him,” Luke says overly bright, a calming palm resting on Jesse’s thigh. “He’s just overwhelmed at the fact he landed me in the first place.”

  Marina tilts her head, a slow grin tilting at the side of her lips. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely,” Luke replies, his eyes glittering with delight. “I have been waiting for the proper person to come whisk me away into the arms of their Instagram.”

  Marina tilts her head back and laughs, pointing a finger to Luke from around her champagne glass. “He’s funny. You like funny.”

  Jesse glances at Luke and smiles. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “Wait,” Luke says, his voice dawning in realization. “You’re that photographer friend. Did she rope you into doing her wedding?”

  Marina snorts. “She sure as hell tried. But after shelling out $400 on a dress I will never wear again, I gave her a very good recommendation with an incredible deal. It was my wedding gift to her.”

  “Okay, so why do you keep her around?” Luke asks, his eyes flickering to Sheila at the end of the table laughing at something Unfunny Sam has said. “I mean, no offense.”

  “None taken.” Marina shrugs. “I’ve known her since I was in kindergarten, so I’m used to her and—” Marina pauses for a second, a devious smile slipping onto her face. “Do you really wanna know?”

  Luke matches her smile. “Abso-fucking-loutely.”

  “Business,” Marina answers in a low voice. “I do free shoots for her and the money rolls in.”

  Luke cracks up, throwing a fist pump in the air. “That’s fucking brilliant.” He turns to Jesse. “I like her. Can we keep her?”

  Jesse laughs. “Yes.”

  After brunch, the group separates from Jesse and Luke to head to their pre-rehearsal dinner spa day. Luke all but collapses into Jesse’s arms and groans.

  “Can we please head back to the hotel and take a nap? That brunch was the most painful experience of my life because I was too hung over to drink, and too sober to not soak in all that vapidness.”

  Jesse smiles and wraps an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Marina’s cool.”

  Luke hums in agreement. He curls into Jesse and Jesse tries to curtail the warmth spread in his stomach. “Yes, Marina is cool. Everyone else sucks.”

  “You’re kinda dramatic, you know that?”

  “It’s like a hundred degrees outside, I’m hungover and I just spent the last two hours listening to your ex-fiancée talk about flower arrangements and matching...whatever the fuck she’s doing to her face.” He turns and his hazel eyes are pleading and it takes everything Jesse has not to kiss him. “So get an Uber, please.”

  Jesse then kisses him, standing in front of the hotel in the middle of Vegas, in a hundred degree heat. “Okay,” he whispers against Luke’s mouth, “I’ll get the Uber.”

  Eight

  Luke

  Luke will never admit this even under psychological duress, but Sheila and Ross’s reception is stunning. Large circular chandeliers with a hanging fringe somehow instead of being tacky appear elegant and magical against the backlight glinting in the background. Every table is perfection with large floral c
enterpieces and illuminated by so many candles Luke was nervous he’d catch something on fire during dinner.

  The wedding, to Luke’s surprise, was beautiful.

  Sheila and Ross had written their vows, and something twisted inside of Luke’s stomach when he considered how close that could have been Jesse up in the front, surrounded by family and friends.

  And, most likely, Luke to the side as his best man.

  Instead, Luke was in the audience, amongst other family and friends that had no relations to Jesse, and Jesse was off to the side playing a melodic rhythm on the guitar. When Sheila told a funny tale about Ross getting stung by a jellyfish when they went on a cruise to Mexico, Luke laughed. He smiled when Ross pulled Sheila’s hands up to kiss them delicately, made eye contact with Jesse when Sheila cupped her husband’s face and kissed him.

  Sheila pulled all the stops for this wedding, that much is clear. Luke is thankful he’s not allergic to flowers or else he’d be in hell right now. The DJ is playing some old 90s song that he can’t remember the name of, and he snags a champagne glass from a passing waiter, replacing his empty one on the tray and mumbling a thanks. He doesn’t even notice the person walking up to him, because Luke’s eyes have locked onto Jesse.

  “So what did you think of the Cirque show?”

  Luke barely hears the question. Jesse is on the other side of the room, laughing with Marina, holding a champagne glass. He’s removed his leather jacket, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hip cocked to the side. A small bit of fringe falls over Jesse’s eye and he shakes it away. Luke’s chest clenches.

  “Luke?”

  Luke turns and blinks several times. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  The blonde standing next to him—Jackie? Joslyn? Jessica?—tracks Luke’s gaze and smiles. She chuckles and takes a sip of her champagne. “Nothing of importance,” she says with a smile. Then there’s a pause. “How long have you two been together?”

  They had gone over their backstory on the drive to Las Vegas. Having nothing but desert and highway, it gave them enough time to come up with a game plan should anyone ask them questions. But they didn’t plan what to say about getting married, because marriage was never on the table.

  Luke bites his bottom lip. Jesse believes they’re married. Luke knows he has to tell Jesse the truth: that their “marriage” isn’t official. They went through the ceremony, through all the bells and whistles, but they’re not official.

  “We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Luke begins, going through the script he’s rehearsed in his head a million times. “Officially, we’ve been dating for six months.”

  The blonde glances at the ring circling Luke’s finger, a sly smile curling at the side of her mouth. “Congrats,” she says with a nod to the ring. “Recent?”

  “Uh, kinda,” Luke manages, a lump growing in his throat. He feels the unbearable heat curling up his neck and through his cheeks.

  “Kinda?” the blonde repeats with a curious raise of an eyebrow.

  Before Luke can make a further fool of himself, Jesse is next to him, an arm snaking around his waist before placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Having a good time?” he asks, glancing between Luke and the blonde.

  “Sure,” Luke says, his voice shaky.

  The rumble of the music, mixed with the large crowd, and bright lights on the dancefloor is too much for Luke to take in. He sets the champagne glass down on a random table and turns to the balcony toward the back.

  It’s cooler outside, the Strip alive below. Vegas lights flicker in a rainbow of stimulation and wonder. Luke rests his arms on the balustrade, observing the crowds of people walking along the sidewalks, tiny like ants. The bass of the music inside is rumbling underneath Luke’s thick-soled dress shoes, and he unties the infamous flamingo tie—which was worthwhile for the look on Sheila’s face—to let it hang loose around his neck.

  Luke doesn’t acknowledge Jesse when he walks up and stands next to him. They have a few inches between them, but the space feels cavernous and wide, and his stomach coils and twists. Luke wants this, wants to have Jesse waking up next to him in the morning. He wants Jesse coming up next to him and smiling like he’s made of stars, wants Jesse to kiss him on the cheek when they’re amongst a crowd of strangers.

  He wants. He wants so much, and all of it will vanish tomorrow.

  “You okay?” Jesse asks.

  Luke chances a glance of Jesse’s profile. The lights of the city cascading over his face in bold colors of blue, yellow, and orange. He looks beautiful, hair a mess and cheeks flushed from champagne.

  “Sure,” Luke says, and Jesse shifts, resting a hip and elbow on the balustrade.

  Luke can feel the stare on him, knows that Jesse’s waiting for him to cave. Jesse, for as intense as he is, always has the most aggravating level of patience.

  Luke scrubs a hand over his face. “Is it time to go yet? I’m over the whole pomp and circumstance of Brideshilla.”

  Jesse clicks his tongue. “We haven’t even had cake yet.”

  “That cake looks like it’s three thousand dollars worth of fondant and I hate that shit,” Luke says.

  He’s trying to aim for light-hearted humor, but his voice betrays its intention and comes out short and angry. Then a warm hand brushes through his hair, and settles on his neck. Luke closes his eyes.

  “We can leave,” Jesse murmurs into Luke’s ear, and Luke tries to suppress a shiver of want. Jesse’s hand squeezes the nape of Luke’s neck, turning his face to him, those blue eyes filled with naked desire. “I can think of a few things we can do instead.”

  A voice inside Luke’s head tells him he shouldn’t continue this. That this will lead to more harm than good. But his heart wants this, wants it so bad, has wanted it for years, and now he can have it. Even if it’s all an illusion. Even if it’s all temporary.

  “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing for Jesse’s hand and leading them away.

  He’ll tell Jesse when they get back to LA, he promises himself.

  Jesse will feel relief, happy that they don’t have to go through a bunch of hoops to undo an unnecessary marriage just to get back at an ex just to prove that Jesse is better off without her, that he also has found happiness. He’ll tell him, and then maybe they can continue this for real.

  Luke hopes. But until then he’s going to take whatever Jesse wants to give.

  Luke is barely in the hotel room before Jesse’s pushing him onto the bed and crawling on top of him. Jesse straddles Luke’s hips, working on unbuttoning his shirt when he murmurs, “Do you realize how fucking hot you looked tonight?”

  “No, not really,” Luke replies breathless, watching Jesse rip off the shirt, tossing it onto the floor.

  After he opens up Luke’s shirt, his hands splayed over his stomach, Jesse looks up at him through those long lashes that drive Luke on the brink of insanity.

  “What do you want?”

  Luke opens his mouth to answer, and snaps it shut.

  They can’t do this.

  It was bad enough that they fooled around when they were both trashed out of their minds, and while Luke has zero regrets about it, he doesn’t want this to be a common thing that they do together. Luke’s had enough drunken mistakes that seemed good at the time and much later turned out to be the worst decision ever.

  Jesse circles the pad of his finger over Luke’s nipple, and Luke arches into the touch. He gasps, and the wicked grin that forms over Jesse’s mouth is fucking evil. Luke closes his eyes for a moment, wrapping a hand around Jesse’s wrist and shaking his head.

  “Wait,” he breathes, shivering at the warmth of Jesse’s touch.

  Jesse’s eyes furrow in concern, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you think—” Luke sighs and tries again. “We just got back from a wedding where there’s like a bunch of booze and I just want to make sure that...you know, we’re doing this for the right reasons.”

&nbs
p; An eyebrow quirks. “What other reason would I be doing this for?”

  “I don’t know!” Luke protests and regrets the annoyance at his response.

  Jesse rears back, removing himself from Luke’s lap and flopping down next to him on the bed. They both stare at the ceiling in an awkward heavy silence.

  “I’m not drunk,” Jesse says quietly. Luke turns to find Jesse’s eyes searching over him. “I’ve barely had anything to drink. I want to do this because...well, I want to.”

  “Oh.”

  Jesse smirks. “Yeah, ‘oh’.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Luke’s eyes widen when Jesse silences him with a kiss, fluttering them shut on a moan as Jesse trails his hand down Luke’s chest and stomach and brushes over his cock. He was halfway hard with Jesse on top of him, and now that Jesse’s palming him he arches at the sensation, breaking the kiss.

  “Goddamn,” Luke hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You are too good at this.”

  The low chuckle next to him is anything but shy. “I know.”

  Luke narrows his eyes. “Don’t be cocky.”

  In return, Jesse nips at his earlobe, licks his neck and whispers, “But you like it when I’m cocky.”

  Luke opens his mouth to retort, but Jesse’s already working open his dress pants, pushing a hand inside and jerking Luke off. He scrambles to push the clothes off, only just able to get them down his thighs, before stopping Jesse a second time.

  “Get back on top of me,” Luke insists, tugging Jesse closer to him. “You may want to take those off,” he adds nodding to Jesse’s pants. He can already see the bulge of his erection, and grins.

  They scramble out of their clothes and when Jesse slides on top of Luke their cocks brush against each other earning mutual groans of pleasure. Not wanting to waste any time, Luke wets his hand with spit and reaches between them, grabbing onto Jesse’s erection and tugging hard. Jesse gasps and loses his leverage a bit, his forehead falling onto Luke’s shoulder.