Warning: slight sexual cy
The café they frequented was bustling that afternoon, filled with the usual scent of roasted beans, fresh pastries, and a low hum of voices. Rody leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his auburn hair, green eyes flicking over to his boyfriend. Vincent sat across from him, posture straight as ever, sipping his coffee with a deliberate slowness that bordered on torturous.
Rody’s gaze lingered on him, something between irritation and admiration flaring in his expression. It was as if Vincent was crafted just to tempt him – the way he held his cup, slender fingers tapping it lightly, his dark eyes peering over the rim in that knowing way that was somehow both innocent and smug. Today, Vincent wore a dark turtleneck and fitted jeans, all understated yet dangerously appealing.
It wasn’t the first time Vincent had pulled this, and Rody suspected it wouldn’t be the last. Vincent liked to keep him on edge, always testing his restraint.
“You’re quiet,” Vincent observed, setting down his cup and giving Rody a smirk. “Lost in thought?”
“Oh, I’m thinking alright.” Rody’s voice was low, rough around the edges. He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to brush against Vincent’s. The contact was brief, but his fingertips lingered just a moment too long, watching Vincent’s face for any reaction.
Vincent’s eyes flickered, his smirk widening ever so slightly, but he was otherwise unfazed. “Must be something serious if it’s keeping you this quiet. Mind sharing?”
The subtle challenge in Vincent’s tone stoked the embers of Rody’s irritation – and his desire. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so that only Vincent could hear. “Maybe I’m just thinking of ways to pay you back later.”
Vincent’s lips quirked, the slightest raise of a perfectly dark eyebrow signaling his amusement. “Oh? Planning some grand act of revenge, are we?”
“Call it what you want.” Rody’s voice was rougher now, almost a growl. He squeezed Vincent’s hand, just enough to feel the slender strength of his fingers, and saw the barest hint of a blush rise to Vincent’s cheeks. It was rare to catch him off-guard, and Rody was going to savor it.
But Vincent’s composure was ironclad; he met Rody’s gaze with a cool, unaffected look, eyes sparkling with that frustratingly familiar mischief. He ran his fingers over Rody’s, subtle yet deliberate. “You could try,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, “but we both know who’d win in the end.”
Rody clenched his jaw. Vincent had this irritatingly sharp ability to keep him on edge with just a glance, a touch, or a whispered word. They’d played this game often enough that Rody recognized the rhythm, the back-and-forth, but today was worse than usual. Vincent knew just how to press his buttons, and he was enjoying it far too much.
Their coffees sat mostly untouched, Vincent’s hand casually returning to his cup while he continued watching Rody with that maddening expression. Rody’s fingers twitched, and he forced himself to relax, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“Tell me something, Vincent,” Rody said, leaning back in his chair, though his tone held a distinct edge. “Do you ever get tired of these games?”
Vincent chuckled, a low, breathy sound. “Why would I? Watching you try to hold back is half the fun.” He tipped his head, letting his fingers ghost up Rody’s arm in a fleeting gesture, so light it was almost nonexistent.
Rody’s muscles tensed involuntarily, his pulse picking up as Vincent’s fingers traced over his forearm. His grin turned predatory. “Maybe one day I won’t hold back.”
“Promises, promises,” Vincent replied, his smirk widening as he pulled his hand away. He leaned back, crossing his legs with a casual grace that only made things worse, and Rody could swear he saw a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Vincent knew exactly what he was doing, and the knowledge only spurred him on.
“Careful, Rody.” Vincent’s voice was barely a whisper, his words brushing against Rody’s patience like a featherlight touch. “We wouldn’t want to make a scene here, would we?”
Rody huffed, his expression somewhere between frustrated and amused. “I’ll give you something to be careful about,” he muttered, a quiet challenge that Vincent didn’t miss. But his boyfriend just tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips, as if daring him to follow through.
He wasn’t going to let Vincent keep the upper hand. Not today. Taking a steadying breath, Rody uncrossed his arms, fingers moving purposefully as he leaned in close. His hand landed softly on Vincent’s thigh under the table, fingers splaying just enough to elicit the faintest shift in Vincent’s demeanor.
Vincent’s smirk faltered, and Rody took immense satisfaction in the slight flush that crept over his face. Leaning forward, Rody spoke softly, voice rough with intent. “I think we should head back to my place. Now.”
Vincent’s eyes sparkled with a rare flicker of hesitation, his composure wavering for the first time. But he quickly regained his confidence, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You’d think I’d be easier to rile up by now.”
Rody clenched his jaw, fingers gripping Vincent’s thigh with just enough pressure to make his point. “You want to see if I can prove you wrong?”
Vincent opened his mouth, maybe to throw another teasing remark, but Rody didn’t give him the chance. He stood up, pulling Vincent along with him, his hand possessive on his boyfriend’s arm as they left the café. They made their way down the street, Vincent’s smirk returning in full force, but Rody didn’t miss the way his breathing hitched when they reached his apartment.
The door closed behind them, and the room was filled with silence and tension, both of them acutely aware of the charge in the air. Vincent turned to him, that insufferable smirk still on his face, though his eyes had taken on a darker, more vulnerable glint.
Without a word, Rody took Vincent’s face in his hands, his fingers tangling in dark hair, and pulled him into a fierce kiss. Vincent’s resistance, so carefully cultivated in public, melted instantly, his hands gripping Rody’s shirt with unexpected urgency. For once, it was Vincent who was breathless, who faltered, as Rody took control.
“You know,” Rody murmured against his lips, pressing him back against the wall, “I could’ve done this hours ago if you weren’t so stubborn.”
Vincent’s breath came in ragged gasps, his usually sharp retorts softened into a barely-there murmur. “But where would be the fun in that?” His voice, normally so cool and composed, was tinged with anticipation now, with a note of surrender that sent a thrill through Rody.
Rody’s hand slid down, pressing firmly against Vincent’s hip, keeping him pinned against the wall. “I don’t know, Vince. I think this is pretty fun.” His tone was low, teasing, but he could feel the tremor that ran through Vincent at the words.
This time, Vincent didn’t reply. Instead, he gave in, his hands pulling Rody closer, his usual control slipping completely as he leaned into Rody’s touch. For once, he had nothing clever to say, no smug remark to throw back. And Rody couldn’t help but grin at the sight – Vincent, the one who usually called the shots, looking up at him with those dark, need-filled eyes.
Rody took his time, reveling in the way Vincent’s breath hitched, the way his control shattered. Vincent had pushed him to the edge all day, and now, finally, it was his turn to take the lead.
The room felt hotter as the tension built between them, neither willing to break eye contact. Rody took in the sight of Vincent – disheveled, flushed, and with that spark of vulnerability that he usually kept hidden behind his cool, composed exterior. It was intoxicating.
Rody leaned in, letting his lips trail along Vincent’s jawline, savoring the way Vincent’s breath hitched beneath his touch. His hands slid down Vincent’s arms, fingers brushing over his wrists and pinning them gently against the wall, holding him there as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. For all the times Vincent had teased him, kept him hanging, and left him wanting, this felt like sweet revenge.
“Something tells me you weren’t expecting this,” Rody whispered, his voice a low rumble against Vincent’s ear. Vincent shivered, his composure cracking as he struggled to hold onto the last remnants of control.
“Don’t be too confident,” Vincent managed, though his voice was breathy, and his usual cockiness was absent. “You’re still predictable, Rody.”
Rody chuckled softly, his breath warm against Vincent’s skin. “Am I? Maybe I’ve just been letting you think that.” His tone held a hint of challenge, and he saw Vincent’s expression waver, that tiny flicker of surprise that told Rody he was finally getting under Vincent’s skin. “You know,” he continued, pressing a knee between Vincent’s legs to hold him in place, “you really shouldn’t underestimate me.”
Vincent’s breath hitched, and Rody felt the subtle tremor that ran through him, the way his hands, normally so sure, tightened around the fabric of Rody’s sleeves. Rody grinned, taking his time, his movements slow and methodical. He wanted Vincent to feel every second of the tension he’d spent so long building up.
“Nothing to say?” Rody asked, pulling back just enough to look Vincent in the eye, his gaze filled with smug satisfaction. “That’s a first.”
Vincent swallowed, his dark eyes holding a glint of defiance even now, though his composure was visibly cracking. “Don’t get used to it,” he murmured, though his words lacked their usual bite. His voice was softer, almost vulnerable, and it sent a thrill through Rody to see him this way.
“Maybe I will,” Rody replied, his voice a low growl as he leaned back in, his lips brushing over Vincent’s, teasingly slow, until Vincent finally gave in, pressing back into the kiss with a hunger that matched Rody’s own.
This was different – raw, unguarded. Vincent’s walls were crumbling, and Rody took full advantage, letting his hands roam over Vincent’s sides, feeling the way his boyfriend leaned into every touch, every brush of his fingers. For once, it was Vincent who was breathless, his body reacting involuntarily to Rody’s touch, as if the hours of holding back were finally catching up to him.
They stayed like that, caught in each other’s pull, until Vincent pulled back just enough to murmur, his voice hoarse and unsteady, “You don’t have to keep me waiting, you know.”
Rody smirked, letting his hands slide down to Vincent’s hips, fingers pressing firmly as he leaned close. “Oh, I think you can wait a little longer,” he replied, enjoying the flicker of frustration in Vincent’s eyes. After all the teasing, all the endless restraint, it was only fair that Vincent got a taste of his own medicine.
Vincent’s breath came in shallow gasps, his expression a mixture of frustration and need, his usually sharp gaze softened. Rody felt a surge of satisfaction at the sight, knowing he’d finally broken through the walls Vincent so carefully kept in place. He leaned in one last time, his voice a rough whisper against Vincent’s ear.
“Next time you try to tease me in public,” he murmured, “remember how it feels to be on the receiving end.”
Vincent’s gaze held his, a mixture of defiance and surrender flickering in his dark eyes. For once, he was speechless, completely at Rody’s mercy, and the sight alone made Rody’s pulse quicken.
This was a side of Vincent that few ever saw – vulnerable, raw, and utterly unguarded. And for once, Rody knew he had the upper hand, leaving Vincent to feel every ounce of tension, every second of anticipation. Because when it came to this game, Rody was more than willing to play it his way.
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