Dead Plate Oneshots Against My Better Judgment

Warning: Age gap, cheating, shorter Vincent, soft Vincent

The warm evening air of Paris brushed against Rody’s skin as he stood on the balcony of Manon’s apartment. Inside, the hum of conversation continued without him, Manon laughing with her friends, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

Rody took a deep drag of his cigarette, trying to steady his thoughts, but it wasn’t working. His mind was filled with one person, and it wasn’t his girlfriend.

Vincent.

He hadn’t meant to start thinking about him this way. Vincent was the last person Rody should be focused on, yet the younger man had slipped into his head so easily, so naturally, it felt inevitable. And the worst part? Rody couldn’t stop himself.

Vincent had this quiet presence, the kind that lingered long after he left the room. His dark, messy hair, pale skin, and those unnerving black eyes—Rody had never seen eyes so deep, so impossible to read. Every time he looked into them, it was like falling into a void.

A void he wanted to sink deeper into.

Rody leaned forward, elbows on the railing, his gaze locked on Vincent through the glass door. He stood in the kitchen, quietly making himself a drink, completely unaware of the way Rody’s gaze lingered on him. Vincent was small, slender, and delicate in a way that should’ve made Rody feel protective. But it didn’t.

Instead, it made him want to do something he’d never dare admit out loud.

He wanted to pin Vincent down, feel his weight beneath him, those soft lips parting as he breathed his name. He imagined the way Vincent would writhe, surprised at first, maybe even a little defiant, but eventually giving in—black eyes wide with a mix of fear and desire.

Rody cursed under his breath and dropped the cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot. He had no business thinking this way. Not about Vincent. Not when he was dating Manon. She was good to him, better than he probably deserved, and the last thing he should be doing was lusting after her little brother.

But he couldn’t help it. Every time Vincent was near, Rody felt like his entire world shifted. His eyes would follow the younger man without permission, his heart would race when he caught a glimpse of that pale skin, and worst of all—he wanted Vincent in ways that went far beyond simple attraction. He wanted to break through that quiet exterior, to see what lay underneath.

What would Vincent’s voice sound like if he moaned Rody’s name?

The door slid open behind him, and Rody froze.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here,” Vincent’s quiet voice broke the silence. It was smooth, calm, as if he hadn’t just walked into Rody’s most dangerous thoughts.

Rody didn’t turn around right away, forcing himself to take a steady breath. “Needed some air,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice casual.

Vincent stepped closer, his presence so unassuming yet impossible to ignore. He was like a shadow—always there, just at the edges of Rody’s awareness, ready to creep into the forefront of his mind when he least expected it.

When Rody finally looked at him, Vincent was leaning casually against the railing, his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, black eyes focused on the city below. He was wearing a loose sweater, the sleeves just a little too long, his slight frame dwarfed by the fabric. He looked comfortable, relaxed—but there was always something just beneath the surface with Vincent. Something Rody couldn’t quite place, but wanted to uncover.

“Not much for crowds either, huh?” Rody said, more to fill the silence than anything.

Vincent gave a faint shrug. “Not really.”

That was Vincent—minimal words, minimal effort, but still managing to get under Rody’s skin in a way no one else could. He didn’t have to say much, didn’t even have to do much, and Rody’s thoughts would spiral out of control.

Rody glanced over at him, taking in the pale curve of his neck, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead. God, he wanted to reach out, brush that hair aside, lean in close enough to taste him.

But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Vincent had no idea what was going through his head. No idea how many times Rody had fantasized about pushing him against a wall, about hearing him gasp as Rody’s hands explored his body. He wanted to feel Vincent shiver under his touch, to watch him break apart, piece by piece, until he was begging for more.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Vincent said, his voice breaking through Rody’s haze of thoughts.

Rody blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Vincent’s gaze shifted, his black eyes locking onto Rody’s. “You’ve been distant. From Manon.”

Rody’s throat went dry. How long had Vincent noticed? How long had he been watching?

“It’s nothing,” Rody said quickly, looking away, his grip tightening on the railing. He could feel Vincent’s gaze on him, and it took everything in him not to look back.

“You sure about that?” Vincent’s tone was soft, but there was an edge to it, like he knew Rody was lying.

Rody clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to let the truth slip. He wanted to tell Vincent exactly why he’d been distant, why he couldn’t stop thinking about him, but he knew he couldn’t. Not without ruining everything.

Instead, he forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Yeah, Vince. I’m sure.”

Vincent didn’t push further, but he didn’t look convinced either. He turned back to the city, the silence stretching between them.

Rody’s mind was racing. He needed to get out of here before he did something reckless, something irreversible. But before he could make an excuse to leave, Vincent spoke again.

“You’ve got that look again,” Vincent said, almost too quietly.

“What look?” Rody’s heart pounded in his chest.

“That look like you’re thinking about something you shouldn’t be.” Vincent’s eyes flicked back to him, and for a moment, Rody wondered if Vincent had figured it out—if he knew.

Rody swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vincent didn’t say anything, just stared at him with those unreadable black eyes, and it was enough to make Rody’s pulse quicken.

Rody pushed off the railing, needing to put some distance between them. “I should get back inside. Manon’s probably wondering where I am.”

Vincent’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and Rody felt it like a weight pressing down on him.

“Yeah,” Vincent said softly. “You should.”

But as Rody turned to leave, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Vincent knew far more than he was letting on. And as much as Rody hated himself for it, the thought of Vincent knowing—of him figuring out just how badly Rody wanted him—sent a rush of heat through his veins.

As he walked back into the apartment, Rody realized with a sinking feeling that this was far from over. He wasn’t just in too deep. He was drowning. And the worst part?

He didn’t want to stop.

Rody barely made it back into the apartment before he felt the weight of Vincent’s gaze slip off him, replaced by the busy hum of conversation inside. He shut the door behind him, heart still racing as he tried to refocus, but it was impossible. His skin burned from the brief encounter, his mind filled with the memory of Vincent’s voice—soft but cutting, as though he had seen right through him.

He found Manon easily, sitting on the couch surrounded by her friends. She looked up when he approached, her smile warm and familiar, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed. Rody leaned down to kiss her, trying to convince himself he could shake the tension, but when their lips met, it was hollow.

“You alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” Rody said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just needed some air.”

Manon studied him for a moment, then nodded, brushing it off. “Good. They were just talking about going out tomorrow. We could hit that new spot by the Seine.”

“Sounds good,” Rody replied, though his mind wasn’t on their plans. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Vincent’s eyes, the way he’d spoken—like he knew something was wrong.

The rest of the night dragged on, with Rody playing the part of the attentive boyfriend, but his mind kept drifting back to Vincent. Each time he heard Vincent’s voice from across the room, each time he caught a glimpse of him in his peripheral vision, that same heat surged through him. It was driving him mad, and worse, he knew there was no escaping it.

Finally, hours later, after everyone had left, the apartment grew quiet. Manon was getting ready for bed, her soft voice calling to him from the other room.

“You coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Rody called back. He sat down on the edge of the couch, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down.

Vincent hadn’t come out of his room after the balcony. The quiet between them lingered like a ghost, haunting him with every step he took. As much as Rody had tried to bury his feelings, tonight had proved it—it was impossible.

He was in too deep, and the only thing that scared him more than the feelings themselves was the way his body responded to them. It wasn’t just desire. It was raw, uncontrollable want, something that gnawed at him constantly, threatening to unravel everything he had with Manon.

But as soon as the thought of stopping entered his mind, it vanished. He didn’t *want* to stop. He wanted to see where this dangerous road led, no matter how reckless it was.

Just then, the door to Vincent’s room creaked open, and Rody looked up, heart skipping a beat. Vincent stepped out into the hallway, his black eyes catching Rody’s from across the room.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Rody’s mind screamed at him to look away, to go back to Manon and pretend nothing had happened. But he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t let him.

Vincent broke the silence first, his voice low. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Rody swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Vincent’s eyes didn’t leave him, his expression unreadable as always, but there was something in the way he stood—something in the quiet confidence that made Rody feel exposed.

“What about you?” Rody asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

Vincent shrugged, walking closer, his bare feet making barely a sound on the hardwood floor. “Couldn’t sleep either.”

Rody’s heart raced as Vincent sat down on the arm of the couch, far too close. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his pulse pounding in his ears. The silence between them stretched, thick with tension.

“Rody…” Vincent’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Rody’s eyes snapped to Vincent’s, the sound of his name on Vincent’s lips sending a jolt through him. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah?”

Vincent leaned in just slightly, his gaze never leaving Rody’s. “You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Rody’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All he could do was stare back into those impossibly dark eyes, wondering if Vincent really knew, or if this was all just a game.

“Is it something I did?” Vincent’s voice was soft, laced with just enough uncertainty to make Rody’s heart ache.

For a second, Rody wanted to deny everything, to brush it off like it was nothing. But the heat between them was unbearable, the proximity driving him insane. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to push Vincent away, but at the same time, he wanted to pull him closer, to close the gap between them and feel those lips against his.

“I—” Rody’s voice cracked, the words catching in his throat. “It’s not you.”

Vincent tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching Rody’s face. “Then what is it?”

Rody didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His body was frozen, every muscle tense as he struggled with the truth he could no longer ignore.

Vincent’s gaze dropped, just for a second, to Rody’s lips, and that was all it took.

In one swift motion, Rody’s hand shot out, grabbing Vincent’s wrist, pulling him off the arm of the couch and into his lap. The moment Vincent’s slight frame hit his, Rody’s lips were on him, desperate, hungry, devouring.

Vincent gasped in shock, his body stiffening at first, but Rody didn’t give him a chance to react. He kissed him harder, his free hand tangling in Vincent’s hair, pulling him closer, as though the contact could quench the fire burning inside him.

For a moment, Vincent was completely still, but then, just as Rody thought he might pull away, Vincent melted against him. His lips parted, and he let out the faintest, breathless moan, sending a thrill through Rody’s entire body.

The taste of him was intoxicating—sweet, soft, and everything Rody had imagined. His hands moved to Vincent’s waist, gripping him tightly, pulling him even closer as if he could fuse them together.

Vincent’s hands slid up Rody’s chest, hesitant, uncertain, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, he kissed him back, tentative at first, but then with more urgency, his quiet moans swallowed by Rody’s demanding lips.

Rody’s mind was a haze of lust, need, and heat. Every kiss, every touch was electrifying, like every fantasy he’d had was finally spilling into reality. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t *want* to stop.

Vincent shifted in his lap, pressing closer, and Rody growled low in his throat, his hands roaming over Vincent’s body, exploring every inch of the slight figure he’d wanted for so long.

It was reckless. It was wrong.

And he didn’t care.

Rody’s pulse raced as his grip tightened on Vincent’s waist, dragging him impossibly closer. Every part of his body was on fire, fueled by the electric thrill of Vincent’s weight on top of him. There was no space left between them, only the pounding desire that had been building inside Rody for months, now unleashed.

Vincent’s lips were soft and pliant against his, and Rody devoured them with a hunger that surprised even himself. His fingers tangled in Vincent’s hair, tugging gently, eliciting a soft gasp that made Rody’s breath hitch. The sound was so faint, so delicate, yet it sent shockwaves through him, igniting something primal deep in his core.

Vincent’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into the fabric of Rody’s shirt as though he were trying to ground himself. His quiet hesitance was slowly giving way to something more, something that made Rody’s heart race with anticipation.

Rody’s lips moved from Vincent’s mouth to his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the pale skin. He felt Vincent tense under the touch, his breath hitching, but there was no resistance—just the sharp inhale of breath as Rody continued, teeth grazing just enough to draw another soft sound from Vincent.

“Rody…” Vincent’s voice was barely a whisper, his hands trembling as they clutched Rody’s shoulders.

That one word, spoken so softly, so vulnerably, nearly undid him. Rody’s grip tightened around Vincent’s waist, his lips brushing against Vincent’s ear as he whispered, “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

He didn’t want to stop—God, he didn’t—but he needed to hear Vincent say it. He needed to know this wasn’t just his own reckless desire.

But Vincent didn’t say stop.

Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his fingers gripping Rody even tighter as he pressed closer, his black eyes fluttering shut. His silence was answer enough, and Rody’s heart pounded as he kissed him again, harder this time, more insistent.

Vincent’s body responded to him, hesitantly at first but then with growing urgency. His lips parted, and he kissed Rody back with a new intensity, as though he had been holding back for so long and could no longer resist.

Rody’s hands roamed Vincent’s back, feeling the subtle lines of his spine through the thin fabric of his shirt. He wanted more—*needed* more—and the heat between them was unbearable. His body thrummed with desire, and every inch of him ached to claim Vincent, to hear him gasp and moan beneath him, to finally give in to what he had wanted for so long.

But as much as he wanted to push further, to take everything, he had to remind himself to hold back. He couldn’t overwhelm Vincent, not yet. As much as the heat of the moment consumed him, he wasn’t going to rush things—not with Vincent.

The reality of the situation hit him hard, then. This was Manon’s brother. This was dangerous. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart. He could lose everything.

But none of that mattered right now.

The only thing that mattered was Vincent, soft and trembling in his arms, responding to him with a quiet desperation that mirrored Rody’s own.

Rody pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against Vincent’s. Both of them were panting, their chests rising and falling in unison as the tension between them lingered, heavy and thick.

“Vincent…” Rody murmured, his voice barely audible. His hands still rested on Vincent’s waist, but he loosened his grip, giving Vincent the space to pull away if he wanted.

But Vincent didn’t pull away.

Instead, his eyes opened slowly, dark and hooded, as he looked up at Rody with an unreadable expression. His lips were red and slightly swollen from the force of their kisses, his breath shaky, and Rody could see the conflict in his eyes.

For a brief moment, Rody thought Vincent might say something, might voice whatever uncertainty or fear he had. But instead, Vincent leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Rody’s lips—tentative, but deliberate.

It wasn’t a kiss born of urgency or lust like before. It was slow, almost tender, and it spoke more than any words could.

Rody’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, his breath catching as he kissed Vincent back with equal softness. He had never imagined Vincent could feel like this—so delicate, so vulnerable—and it made him want to protect him, to shelter him from whatever storm lay ahead.

But as much as this moment felt right, there was still the looming reality of what they were doing.

Manon. The thought of her was like a slap to the face, and Rody’s stomach twisted with guilt. What was he doing? This wasn’t just a passing flirtation or a harmless crush. This was dangerous. This was betrayal.

He pulled back, his breath shaky, eyes wide with the sudden realization of what had just happened.

“I—” Rody began, his voice hoarse, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he even say? How could he possibly explain what he had just done?

Vincent looked at him, his expression unreadable once again, but there was no anger, no accusation—just silence.

Rody’s heart raced as he struggled to find the right words, but the weight of what had just happened hung heavily between them. The room felt too quiet, too still, and the tension that had once been filled with desire now shifted into something far more complicated.

Before Rody could say anything, Vincent stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes lingered on Rody for a moment, dark and intense, before he turned away, heading back toward his room without a word.

Rody watched him go, his body still trembling from the intensity of their kiss, but his mind was a whirlwind of confusion and guilt.

The door to Vincent’s room clicked shut, leaving Rody alone in the darkened living room, his thoughts racing.

What had he done?

His heart pounded in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him full force. He had crossed a line—one he wasn’t sure he could ever come back from.

Rody sat frozen, staring at the closed door of Vincent’s room, his breath still ragged from the intensity of what had just happened. The guilt came crashing down on him now, suffocating in its weight. His hands trembled, running through his auburn hair as he tried to steady himself, but nothing could erase the truth.

He had kissed Vincent.

Manon’s brother. The one person he should have never touched. And worse, he *wanted* to do it again.

The memory of Vincent’s soft lips, the way his body had felt beneath his hands, the small gasps of surprise—it was all too vivid, burning in Rody’s mind like a brand. How was he supposed to go back to pretending nothing had changed? How could he stand being around Vincent now, knowing how much he wanted him?

*This wasn’t supposed to happen*, Rody thought, panic bubbling up inside him. He hadn’t meant for things to go this far. It had started with just a look—a glance that lingered a little too long. Then there were the moments when Vincent’s quiet presence had gotten under his skin, made his pulse quicken. It had spiraled out of control from there, and now… Now he had kissed him.

And Vincent hadn’t pushed him away.

Rody exhaled shakily, trying to think. He needed to fix this, to somehow undo what he had done. He needed to apologize, to explain, to—*what?* What could he even say to Vincent? “Sorry I kissed you and ruined everything?” That wouldn’t change what had happened.

Would Vincent even want to hear him out? He hadn’t said a word after it happened. He had just… walked away.

Rody’s heart clenched at the memory of Vincent’s expression, the way his black eyes had softened during their kiss. It had been so brief, but in that moment, Rody had seen something in Vincent—a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. It made him feel even worse. Vincent probably hadn’t known how to react, and now Rody had confused him even more.

But what was worse was the guilt gnawing at him about Manon. How could he face her after this? She trusted him. He had been so focused on winning her back, on proving himself to her, but now he had gone and kissed her brother.

He couldn’t let her find out. If she ever knew…

Rody clenched his fists, a wave of self-loathing crashing over him. What had he been thinking? He had let his desire take control, and now everything was falling apart. Manon, Vincent—everything was a mess.

But deep down, the sickening truth was that he didn’t regret kissing Vincent.

He hated himself for it, but that kiss… that *connection* between them had felt so real, so raw. And now, no matter how much he tried to shove it down, he knew he couldn’t ignore what had happened.

Rody stood up, pacing the small living room as he tried to think. He needed to talk to Vincent. He couldn’t just leave things like this, hanging in the air between them. If they didn’t talk, it would only get worse—more awkward, more painful. And besides… Rody needed to know how Vincent felt.

Did Vincent want him the way he wanted Vincent?

Rody’s chest tightened at the thought. Maybe… maybe Vincent felt the same pull, the same spark. But he couldn’t be sure. Vincent had always been so hard to read, so quiet and guarded. Rody had never been able to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes. And now, after that kiss, it was even more complicated.

He hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind. He couldn’t leave this unresolved. He had to talk to Vincent—*really* talk to him. Maybe it was a mistake, but Rody couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He had to know where they stood.

Rody crossed the room and stood in front of Vincent’s door, his heart pounding in his chest. He raised his hand to knock, but for a moment, he froze. What if Vincent didn’t want to talk? What if he was angry, or worse—what if he regretted everything?

*Just do it*, Rody told himself, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knocked, the sound barely audible, and waited.

Seconds felt like hours, and Rody’s nerves were on edge. He half-expected Vincent to ignore him, to leave him standing there like a fool. But then, the door opened slightly, and Vincent appeared, his expression unreadable as always.

Rody’s breath caught in his throat. Vincent looked just as conflicted as he felt—his dark eyes wide, his lips pressed together in that tight, silent way of his. But he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting.

Rody rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward and unsure. “Vincent, I…” He trailed off, the words stuck in his throat.

Vincent tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as though trying to decipher what Rody was about to say.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” Rody continued, forcing himself to speak. “I didn’t plan it. I just… I got caught up in the moment.”

Vincent remained silent, but his gaze never left Rody’s, making the tension between them feel almost suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” Rody said, his voice low. “If I made you uncomfortable, or if I crossed a line—I never wanted to hurt you.”

At that, Vincent’s expression softened, just slightly, but he still didn’t speak. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

Rody took a step closer, his heart hammering in his chest. “Vincent, just… tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

There was a long pause, and Rody could see the internal battle waging behind Vincent’s eyes. But then, finally, Vincent spoke—his voice quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” he admitted, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t… I’ve never…”

Rody’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Vincent’s voice. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him that it was okay. But he held himself back, letting Vincent speak.

“I don’t understand why you kissed me,” Vincent said, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t understand *you*.”

Rody swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I don’t understand me either, Vincent.” His voice was barely a whisper. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. I tried to fight it. I tried to focus on other things, but… it’s you. It’s always been you.”

Vincent’s eyes widened at that, and Rody could see the shock and confusion written all over his face.

Vincent stepped back, the weight of Rody’s confession hanging between them like a storm ready to break. His black eyes were wide, filled with something Rody couldn’t quite decipher—was it fear? Curiosity? Desire?

Rody swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest. “Vincent… I don’t expect you to understand. Hell, I barely understand it myself. But I can’t stop how I feel.” He took a shaky breath, his gaze locked on Vincent. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but it did. And now I don’t know how to go back.”

Vincent was still quiet, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to protect himself from the whirlwind of emotions swirling around them. The silence felt deafening. Rody wanted to reach out, to touch him again, to see if that connection was still there, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t push Vincent any further than he already had.

“Do you regret it?” Rody asked, the question coming out harsher than he intended.

Vincent blinked, the question clearly throwing him off balance. He didn’t answer immediately, his lips pressing together in that familiar tight line. His eyes darted away, as if searching for the right words, the right way to explain what he was feeling.

“I don’t know,” Vincent finally whispered, barely audible. His voice cracked slightly, betraying the composure he usually kept so carefully. “I’ve never… thought about you like that before.”

Rody felt a pang in his chest. *Of course he hadn’t*. Vincent had never even seen him that way. Why would he? Vincent had always been the quiet, reserved one, detached from the mess of emotions Rody felt whenever they were near each other.

Rody bit his lip, trying to keep the hurt from showing on his face. “I get it. I’m not… I’m not what you want. I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

Vincent’s head shot up at that, and for the first time, Rody saw something like panic flicker across his face. “I didn’t say that.”

Rody’s breath caught. “What?”

Vincent’s gaze shifted uncomfortably, his pale fingers gripping his arms tighter. “I didn’t say I don’t… want you. I just…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know what to do with this. With *us*.”

Rody’s heart leapt in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said softly, taking a tentative step closer. “But I need to know if I’m the only one feeling this. If you feel anything at all.”

Vincent’s eyes met his again, and for a moment, they were just staring at each other, everything else fading into the background. Rody’s pulse was thundering in his ears, but he waited, his breath catching as Vincent’s lips parted.

“I don’t know what this is,” Vincent said, his voice barely a whisper. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about the kiss either.”

Rody’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat at Vincent’s admission. The world seemed to tilt slightly, the weight of Vincent’s words hitting him all at once. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Vincent.

He didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to process what Vincent was telling him. But the relief, the *hope* that surged inside him was undeniable.

Rody reached out, hesitating for just a moment before his hand gently cupped Vincent’s cheek. Vincent tensed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His skin was soft and warm, his breath hitching as Rody’s thumb brushed lightly over his jaw.

“I don’t know what this is either,” Rody whispered, his voice shaky. “But I know I want you.”

Vincent’s black eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his body leaning just the slightest bit into Rody’s touch, as though he was testing the waters. Rody’s chest tightened at the sight of him—vulnerable, uncertain, but not pushing him away.

Slowly, Rody leaned down, his lips hovering just above Vincent’s, giving him the chance to pull back if he wanted to. For a brief moment, the air between them was thick with anticipation, the tension pulling them together like magnets.

But Vincent didn’t pull away.

Instead, his lips parted slightly, and Rody took it as permission. He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Vincent’s in a kiss that was softer, more careful than before. This time, there was no rush, no desperation—just the quiet, tentative exploration of something new.

Vincent’s lips moved hesitantly against his, responding in slow, uncertain movements. Rody’s heart was racing, but he kept himself steady, letting Vincent take his time, letting him decide how far he wanted to go.

When Vincent’s hands came up to grip the front of Rody’s shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer, Rody’s pulse quickened. He deepened the kiss just slightly, his other hand slipping around to the back of Vincent’s neck, feeling the soft strands of his hair between his fingers.

Vincent’s breath hitched, and Rody could feel the way his body trembled ever so slightly under his touch. But Vincent didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed closer, his fingers curling into Rody’s shirt as if anchoring himself to the moment.

It was intoxicating—the feel of Vincent so close, the warmth of his body, the way he was finally letting himself melt into the kiss. Rody’s mind was spinning, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Vincent—the way his lips tasted, the way his body fit against his.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. Rody’s chest was heaving, his mind racing with everything that had just happened, everything that *could* happen from here.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Rody whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Vincent didn’t respond right away, his eyes still closed as he took a deep breath. “Then don’t,” he whispered back.

Rody’s heart clenched at the simplicity of Vincent’s words, the quiet vulnerability in them. He nodded, his fingers still gently holding the back of Vincent’s neck. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice soft but firm.

Vincent opened his eyes, meeting Rody’s gaze. There was still uncertainty there, still hesitation, but there was also something else—something that made Rody’s chest swell with hope.

Vincent didn’t have to say anything more. Rody could see it in his eyes.

Maybe they didn’t know what this was yet. Maybe it was messy, complicated, and confusing. But it was real.

And for now, that was enough.

My finals are almost over. Meaning in a few days I’ll be able to finish up all my drafts and publish them