The silence between them lingered like smoke in the air — too thick to see through, too fragile to blow away.
Vinny leaned back against the headboard, legs sprawled across the bed with effortless ease, but the tension in his jaw gave him away. "You're doing that thing again," he said lowly, the words curling like a challenge.
Matthew didn't bite — not yet. He stood at the window, shirt half-unbuttoned, bruises blooming faintly along his collarbone where the fight with Tom's men had left its mark. The city outside was a haze of dull lights and distant horns, far too quiet compared to the storm inside him.
"What thing?" Matthew asked, gaze still fixed outside.
Vinny's smile was all teeth. "That 'brooding by the window like a tortured vampire' thing. You know it drives me crazy."
Matthew turned, slow and deliberate, green eyes locking on Vinny. "Does it?" he asked, walking forward.
Vinny's smirk twitched — he hated giving ground, even to Matthew. "You already know it does. But I'm not the one playing coy tonight."
"You mean the way you've been playing since you walked in?" Matthew asked, voice dipping just slightly. "You think I didn't notice the games?"
Vinny leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Maybe I wanted you to notice."
The heat in the room thickened. Matthew didn't blink.
"You always want to win, don't you?" Vinny added, softer this time.
Matthew crossed the room, standing in front of him. "Only when it comes to you."
The pause that followed was too heavy for either of them to carry. Matthew finally sat down beside him on the bed, close enough for their legs to touch.
"I hate how easily you get under my skin," Matthew muttered.
"Then I must be doing something right." Vinny leaned closer. "You like when I call you mine. Admit it."
Matthew turned his head, their faces inches apart now. "It's not about the word."
"No?" Vinny whispered.
"It's about you."
Vinny's smirk faded, something warmer blooming behind his eyes. "You're being dangerous again, Matt."
"Always," Matthew breathed.
The next kiss was inevitable — slow, drawn out, lips brushing before pressing with intent. This wasn't about control anymore. Not for either of them.
They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other's gravity. Every touch was loaded. Every breath shared between them carried tension, desire, and something dangerously close to vulnerability.
But the world outside didn't stop.
Across town, Tom's hands were still stained with blood. The backroom of the underground club reeked of sweat and smoke, but his mind was elsewhere. Kieran stood at the far end of the room, watching silently.
"You're slipping," Kieran said.
Tom didn't look up. "They should've killed him."
"But they didn't," Kieran replied coolly. "And now he's more dangerous than ever."
Tom ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "He's got too much to lose now. That's his weakness."
"And what's yours?" Kieran asked, voice a blade.
Tom's silence was answer enough.
"Lila and Elias are in place," Kieran continued. "The pieces are moving."
Tom looked up, dark eyes glinting. "Then it's time we hit them where it hurts."
"Are you sure you're not letting emotion get in the way?"
Tom stood. "This isn't about emotion. It's about ending this."
Kieran didn't move, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "You keep telling yourself that."
Back in Matthew's apartment, the two men lay in bed, half-dressed, the aftermath of something intense and unspoken thick between them.
Matthew stared at the ceiling, fingers running through Vinny's curls absently. "We're not going to get a break, are we?"
Vinny's voice was muffled against his chest. "No. But maybe we don't need one."
Matthew tilted his head. "You want the storm?"
"I want you." Vinny's voice was steady. "Everything else we'll deal with. Together."
Matthew closed his eyes, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with pain.
"Don't disappear on me," he said quietly.
"I won't," Vinny replied. "Not unless you make me."
Matthew snorted. "Impossible."
They fell into silence again, but this time it wasn't strained. It was grounding.
But outside the building, a figure watched from the shadows. A glint of metal. A flick of a lighter. And then, silence again.
The storm wasn't over. It was just circling back.