Vincent Charbonneau was insufferably beautiful, and Rody Lamoree hated it.
Not in the way where he actually *hated* Vincent. No, it was quite the opposite. He was utterly smitten with him, and that was the problem. Rody couldn’t stand how easily the guy made his pulse race or how often he found himself staring at Vincent like an idiot, tongue-tied and awkward.
It didn’t help that Vincent seemed to *know* what he was doing-seemed to enjoy it, even. In the few months since they’d started hanging out at university, Vincent had a way of toying with Rody, always skirting the line between friendly and something far more dangerous. Sometimes Vincent would lean a little too close when they studied together, his breath warm on Rody’s neck as he asked a question about a textbook. Other times, he’d flash an innocent smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, like he knew exactly what he was doing to Rody’s composure.
Like right now.
“Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you actually going to take your notes?” Vincent’s voice was smooth, low, with that slight French accent that seemed to make everything sound more seductive.
Rody blinked, snapping out of his trance. His pen hovered uselessly above his notebook, pages blank despite the fact they’d been in the library for over an hour.
“I, uh… yeah, sorry.” Rody muttered, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. He looked down quickly, trying to focus on the words in the textbook instead of the way Vincent was watching him with a small, knowing smirk.
This was becoming a pattern. Whenever they studied together, Rody found himself losing track of time, of focus, of *everything* because of Vincent. He’d always been a decent student, maybe a little scatterbrained, but now? With Vincent sitting across from him, legs crossed under the table, fingers tapping lazily against his lips, he was utterly useless.
“You seem distracted, mon cher,” Vincent said, his voice a teasing lilt. He reached over, gently tugging at the corner of Rody’s notebook. “Or is it me? Am I that distracting?”
Rody looked up and was immediately caught in Vincent’s dark eyes. They were glinting with amusement, as if this were some kind of game to him. And maybe it was. Rody had never met anyone quite like Vincent, someone so cool, so collected, and yet so playful. It was infuriating in the best way.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re real distracting,” Rody said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he tried to regain some semblance of control. But the truth was, *yes*, Vincent *was* distracting, more than anyone Rody had ever met. He was constantly teetering on the edge of pushing Rody to his breaking point, then pulling back like none of it ever happened. It was maddening.
Vincent’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Oh? Then maybe I should tone it down for your sake. We wouldn’t want you to flunk out because you couldn’t keep your eyes on your books.”
There it was again, that infuriating flirtation wrapped up in faux innocence. Rody’s stomach did a flip, his pulse quickening. He *hated* how easily Vincent could unravel him with just a few words, and he wanted to-God, he wanted to *do something* about it. The idea of pinning Vincent to the nearest wall flashed through his mind, his own hands holding Vincent in place, making him squirm for once. It was a delicious thought, but Rody quickly pushed it away.
“You think you’re real cute, don’t you?” Rody shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but it came out more flustered than anything else.
Vincent chuckled, low and soft. “*I* think you think I’m cute.”
Rody was sure his face was tomato-red by now. “Shut up,” he muttered, pretending to look at his notes again, though his mind was far from the textbook in front of him.
He could still feel Vincent’s gaze, the weight of it heavy on his skin, making it hard to think straight. Rody risked a glance at him, and of course, Vincent was still staring, his expression unreadable but undeniably pleased with himself.
It was moments like these where Rody thought about *doing* something. Vincent always played with fire, always pushed just enough to get a reaction out of him, but he never went further than that. He’d tease, he’d flirt, he’d drive Rody crazy, then act like nothing happened. It was like Vincent got off on seeing how far he could push before Rody snapped.
But what if Rody did snap?
What if he *finally* gave Vincent what he was so clearly asking for?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but instead of feeling intimidated by it, a flicker of something darker stirred in Rody’s chest. He wanted to see that cool, composed look on Vincent’s face falter. Just once, he wanted to see Vincent flustered, maybe even desperate.
Rody shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly as an idea formed in his mind. Maybe it was time Vincent learned a lesson of his own.
“Vincent,” Rody said slowly, his voice lower than usual.
Vincent arched a brow, clearly noticing the change in Rody’s tone. “Yes?”
Rody leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked on Vincent’s. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?”
The air between them shifted, and for a split second, Rody thought he saw something flicker in Vincent’s expression, a slight widening of his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same amused smirk.
“Is that so?” Vincent asked, his voice light but with an edge of curiosity. “What exactly have I been doing to make you so… bothered?”
Rody grinned. “You know exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Vincent tilted his head, his lips quirking up in that infuriatingly smug way. “I really don’t, Rody. Maybe you should show me.”
That was it. That was the push.
In a single, fluid movement, Rody stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. He rounded the table, and before Vincent could react, he grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up from his seat. Vincent’s eyes widened, genuine surprise flashing across his face as Rody pinned him against the nearest bookshelf, his body pressed firmly against Vincent’s.
“Rody-” Vincent started, but his voice caught in his throat.
Rody’s hand slid up Vincent’s arm, gripping his shoulder as he leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to Vincent’s ear. “You think you’re so smooth, huh?” he whispered, his breath hot against Vincent’s skin. “Always teasing, always playing games.”
Vincent swallowed hard, and for the first time, he didn’t have a snappy comeback. He just stared at Rody, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before.
Rody pulled back just enough to look at Vincent’s face. His expression was a mix of confusion and something else-something that looked suspiciously like excitement. Vincent’s lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but no words came out.
Rody smirked. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
Vincent’s hands, which had been resting uselessly at his sides, finally moved. He placed them on Rody’s chest, not pushing him away, but just holding him there, as if testing the weight of him.
“You talk a big game, Vincent,” Rody continued, his voice low and teasing now. “But I don’t think you’re as tough as you pretend to be.”
Vincent blinked, his breath hitching as Rody’s words sank in. “Rody, I-“
But Rody didn’t let him finish. Instead, he leaned in and captured Vincent’s lips with his own, cutting off whatever protest or teasing remark Vincent had been about to make. Vincent’s body tensed for a moment, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands tightening on Rody’s shirt, pulling him closer.
It was electric. All the tension that had been building between them for months, all the teasing and flirting, it all exploded in that kiss. Rody kissed him hard, like he was trying to prove a point, but there was something softer underneath it too, something that told Vincent this wasn’t just about teaching him a lesson.
Vincent responded eagerly, his fingers curling into the fabric of Rody’s shirt as he kissed back just as fiercely. When Rody finally pulled away, both of them were breathing hard, their foreheads resting against each other.
“I should’ve done that a long time ago,” Rody muttered, his voice rough.
Vincent, for once, didn’t have a clever remark. He just smiled, a genuine, soft smile that made Rody’s heart skip a beat.
“Well,” Vincent said quietly, “you’ve certainly made your point.”
Rody chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Vincent’s forehead. “Good. Because next time, I’m not going to be so nice.”
Vincent’s eyes sparkled, that playful glint returning as he leaned up to whisper in Rody’s ear. “I’ll be waiting.”
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