sheriffaxolotl

One slow breath. Frost splintered across the lock.

A soft crack.

Done.

Too easy.

Always too easy. 

He slipped inside, retrieved the encrypted drive he’d been paid to procure, and exited through a maintenance hatch with the precision of someone who’d spent a lifetime refining his own choreography.

Textbook work.  

By the time he stepped into the biting Montreal night, the disappointment sat sharp beneath his ribs. Cold air stung pleasantly at his cheeks, one of the few sensations he actually liked. The cash envelope in his jacket pocket thudded reassuringly with each step, but it wasn’t enough to cut the familiar quiet pressing in.

He had no crew waiting, no partner to debrief with, no handler asking for updates. Just him. Just frost trailing faintly in his wake.

He told himself he preferred it.

He lied.

Going to a club that night was never part of the plan. 

Aiden drifted without purpose until neon washed over the sidewalk. A loud smear of pink and blue spilling from a sign that buzzed like a heartbeat. The line outside was long, full of glittered faces, mesh shirts, leather straps, glowing piercings, and metallic eyeliner catching every shard of light.

Heat radiated from the building like someone had opened an oven door.  

As he approached the line, the warmth rolled off the crowd in thick waves. A mixture of sweat, perfume, breath, all rising together. His skin prickled in the contrast, his own body temperature dipping instinctively, the air around him subtly cooling. A few people in line shivered without knowing why.

CLUB INCENDIARY, the sign declared, flickering with heat-reactive paint.  

He almost kept walking.  

But he pictured the motel room waiting for him. Quiet, stale, and lonely in a way he refused to acknowledge. He could already see himself lying on the stiff sheets, doomscrolling until he passed out, pretending the hollow feeling in his chest was just exhaustion.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe it was loneliness.

Or maybe he was just horny and out of excuses. 

Whatever the reason, he stepped into the line before he could talk himself out of it.

He stuck out like a sore thumb. Leather jacket, slicked-back hair, latex pants clinging in all the wrong (or maybe right) ways. Rockabilly wannabe in a sea of neon, sequins, and curated chaos. By the time he reached the bouncer, Aiden tilted his head just slightly, silently praying the guy would take one look at him and say nope. Then Aiden could go home, pretend this whole idea was stupid, and never think about it again.

Instead, the bouncer barely glanced at him before jerking a thumb towards the door.

…Well, shit, Aiden thought as he was swept forward. So much for an easy escape. 

Inside, the atmosphere was hotter than the name promised. Literally. Someone was running thermal projections along the ceiling, auroras of gold and pink that glowed like a living furnace. Glittered vapor swirled through the air, citrus and spice settling on his tongue.

And everywhere he looked: supers like him. 

A guy at the bar shifted his skin like liquid chrome to impress a pair of guys. A levitator floated a few inches above the dance floor. Someone near the DJ booth crackled faint arcs of violet electricity that matched the beat. 

It was chaotic, loud, and overstimulating.  

But for once, Aiden didn’t stick out.

Frost unwound from his breath automatically, a thin mist curling in the air. Someone brushed past him and tossed a casual, “Nice chill, man,” like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He tried to smile. It came out stiff.

He tried not to shrink in on himself. He did anyway. 

He stuck to the edge of the dance floor; hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The roll of cash brushed against his knuckles.  

Coming inside had been stupid. Letting himself hope for… something… had been even stupider. 

He needed a drink, desperately.

Aiden made it to the bar, the club’s heat pressing in from all sides like a living thing trying to smother him. The bass rattled up through the floorboards, thrumming in his ribs, making his drink vibrate faintly against the counter. He pretended he belonged there as he leaned an elbow on the bar, sporting a cool expression, shoulders set just right.

He took a sip, letting the alcohol burn warmer than he’d admit felt nice.

The crowd was a blur of heat and motion. People laughed too loud, clung too close, moved like they’d forgotten what shame was. Aiden did a slow circle around the bar, pretending to examine bottles he couldn’t care less about, letting the rhythm of the room crawl under his skin. His pulse synced with the music despite his best efforts. He drifted toward the dance floor without meaning to, curiosity tugging him forward by the collar.

And then he saw him.

Tall. Fit. Dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, with one loose strand falling in a way that was almost offensively attractive. Everything about him moved with controlled ease, like he’d practiced looking effortless until perfection was muscle memory. The showmen ship of flames licking his fingers in time with the beat of the music. And yeah, Aiden clocked the tourist vibe immediately: shoes too clean, shirt too bright, too new, untouched by the grit of the city.

Didn’t matter.

He was hot. Extremely, unfairly hot.

Hot enough that Aiden’s pulse jumped and his body tightened like he’d been struck. A subtle smile. A flick of hair. A slow shift of muscle. It all pulled Aiden in, reeled him closer, wrapped him in the kind of want he never let himself feel out loud. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to be seen. He wanted whatever promise radiated from the stranger’s body. Panic snapped the spell.

Aiden turned sharply back to the bar, pretending he needed a refill, pretending he wasn’t seconds from staring like a creep. Maybe if he lingered, he could still get a fling, some hookup, someone who didn’t make his brain short-circuit.

Aiden lingered at the bar longer than he meant to, nursing drink after drink until the music blurred into a low hum. He’d just set his empty glass down when he felt a presence slip into the space beside him, only a heartbeat before the voice hit.

“Hey,” someone drawled, low and confident, a teasing curl under the words. “You look like the bouncer accidentally let James Dean in.”

Aiden’s head whipped up. His stomach dropped.

Oh no.

Him.

The ponytail. The smile. The guy who moved like the whole club existed for him. Staring right at Aiden with heat and mischief like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“…Funny,” Aiden muttered, shoving confidence into place like a bad prop, “I was going to say you look like you’re about to set the fire alarms off.”

Shit. He was instantly defensive, but his body betrayed him, pulsing toward the warmth he didn’t want to admit he craved.  

The stranger raised an eyebrow, grin sharp and amused, leaning against the bar next to him while flagging down the bartender. He ordered a shot, downed it in one smooth motion, and then his attention was fully back on Aiden.  

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Aiden shift uncomfortably under his gaze.  

“So,” the stranger said finally, voice low and teasing, “how about instead of noticing how hot I am, you dance with me? Or are you just gonna be a wallflower… frozen in place?”  

Aiden didn't even notice the frost covering his glass, but the other did.

He was so taken by him he was completely forgetting to keep his powers from just outing the effect the other had on him.

“…Did, did you just make an ice pun at me?” Aiden’s ears burned. Heat and cold collided inside him, sharp and electric, impossible to ignore.

The stranger just shrugged, tilting his head back lazily, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, letting the silence stretch long enough for Aiden to squirm, again.

“I… I’m not much of a dancer,” Aiden muttered finally, clipped and defensive, though his pulse was hammering in his chest.

“That’s fine.” The stranger’s smile softened, still bold, still teasing, but warmer somehow. “I dance enough for both of us.” 

He extended a hand giving Aiden every chance to pull away.  

Aiden didn’t.

His chest tightened as the stranger guided him onto the dance floor. Heat pulsed through the music, the bass rattling the floor beneath their feet. The stranger moved close, pressing warmth against him, and Aiden’s gloved hands twitched, hovering uncertainly at his sides.

Every nerve hummed with anticipation. He wanted this, wanted the teasing closeness, wanted the way the stranger’s heat made his frost tingle.

“Relax,” the stranger murmured, low and amused, the accent curling smoothly through the bass-heavy air. “You’re stiff as ice. Let me do the work.”

“Again with the puns?” Aiden muttered, trying to sound annoyed.

Heat flushed his cheeks as the stranger’s body brushed against his ribs, his pulse spiking. He wanted to lean in, melt against him, drown in the warmth, and he knew he probably looked painfully obvious.

“What? Not my fault we’re both walking clichés,” the stranger said with a smug smirk.

“Look at us. You’re frosty and brooding, I’m hot and, honestly, kind of perfect. Universe basically shoved us together.”  

“Wow. That’s your pitch?” Aiden raised an eyebrow. “Might be the worst reason a guy’s ever given me at a club.”

He rolled his eyes, hoping it hid the fact that, yeah, it was working.

The stranger didn’t back off. If anything, he stepped closer, heat curling around Aiden like a dare.

“I mean…” he teased, head tilting. “Is it working?”

“It might,” Aiden muttered, regaining a sliver of confidence, “if I knew who was ruining my ears with puns.”

“Chad.”

Aiden immediately made a face. Pure reflex, the kind anyone would make when handed a name that had been memed into oblivion. Chad caught it right away, a quick flicker of amusement crossing his features, but he didn’t press.

“Aiden,” he offered quickly, maybe to cover how embarrassed he suddenly felt.

“Well, Aiden…” Chad leaned in, grin tugging at his lips, radiating warmth in slow, confident waves. “You are colder than most. But I’m pretty sure I can warm you up.”

Aiden’s stomach tightened, fluttery and a little desperate. He had to admit it: that was smooth. Overplayed, sure, but the way Chad said it made something low in his gut twist.

And God, he wanted the contact. The solid heat of someone pressed against him. The thrill of actually being wanted.

Chad’s hands settled at his waist and guided him through a lazy turn, confident and unhurried. Their hips brushed, light but intentional, sending a sharp jolt up Aiden’s spine.

“See?” Chad murmured, voice warm and pleased. “You’re moving. I like that.”

Aiden felt ridiculous, exposed in a way he hadn’t let himself be in a long time. He wasn’t used to this kind of dancing. Usually he hung back at the bar, tried to play at being cool and aloof, hoping someone might take the bait.

But Chad wasn’t giving him room to hide.

“Still a little stiff,” Chad teased, lips grazing the shell of Aiden’s ear. His breath was hot, melting straight through Aiden’s composure. “Or are you making me work for it?”

Aiden swallowed hard.

He let himself lean in, body responding before his brain could protest, letting the music and Chad’s hands draw him deeper into the moment. The floor vibrated beneath them, lights flickered across Chad’s skin, and Aiden felt himself slipping into the rhythm with the other.

Chad’s hands slid down Aiden’s back in slow, deliberate strokes, fingers tracing the ridges of his spine before settling at the dip of his waist. He pulled Aiden flush against him, guiding him into the press of his hips, the heat of Chad’s body sinking through Aiden’s clothes and tightening something low in his stomach.

Aiden moved with him, testing the friction, grinding lightly as the music pulsed around them. Chad rewarded the motion with a firmer grip on his hips, thumbs brushing along the sensitive points just above Aiden’s belt. One hand slid lower, palming the curve of Aiden’s ass through the slick latex of his pants, squeezing just enough to make Aiden’s breath hitch.

The lights flashed across Chad’s face and caught on the sweat at his collarbone. Aiden’s pulse stuttered. His fingers lingered at the hem of Chad’s shirt before slipping underneath, nails scraping lightly over skin that burned hotter than any human’s should. Chad’s breath hitched, just enough to make Aiden do it again, slower this time, letting his hands explore the lean muscle there.

Chad dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of Aiden's ear, his hot breath sent shivers down Aiden’s spine. One large hand slid lower, fingers digging possessively into the meat of Aiden's thigh before dragging him closer, until there was no space left between them at all.

The hard line of Chad’s erection pressed unmistakably against Aiden's hip through the tight fabric of his pants, the heat and size of it making Aiden's own cock twitch in response. 

Chad groaned low in his throat, the sound rough and hungry as he dragged Aiden tighter against him. His fingers splayed across the small of Aiden’s back, pressing their bodies together until every shift of Chad's hips rolled their erections against each other in a slow, deliberate grind.

The friction was intoxicating, the heat between them near unbearable as Aiden’s cock throbbed against the firm line of Chad’s through their clothes. 

Aiden arched into him with a sharp inhale, lips skimming the sweat-damp skin of Chad’s neck, tasting salt and tequila, licking just to hear the way Chad’s breath stuttered. Around them, the club pulsed with bodies swaying, music thrumming but all Aiden could focus on was the way Chad moved against him, hips rolling in filthy, perfect sync, dragging their cocks together again and again.

The pressure was relentless, every thrust stoking the fire low in Aiden’s gut until he was gasping, fingers digging into Chad’s waist hard enough to bruise. 

Chad’s breath hitched sharply against Aiden’s throat, his fingers traveling up his spine so they could curl around the back of his neck, tipping his chin up with a smirk. The heat between them now was unbearable, the frost on Aiden’s breath steaming from the heat of Chad’s mixing with his.

Their lips hovering inches apart.

“Come here, Cielo,” Chad growled in a rough gruff, before crashing their mouths together in a kiss that seared straight through Aiden’s veins. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. Chad kissed like he was trying to burn Aiden alive. Tongue sliding against his, teeth nipping his lips, stealing every gasp before it could escape. Aiden clung to him, fingers twisting in Chad’s shirt, the other sliding under that ponytail behind his neck.

The music faded. The crowd vanished. All Aiden knew was the slick heat of Chad’s mouth, the punishing grip of his hand, the way his cock pressed heavy and insistent against Aiden’s hip.

Chad broke away just enough to rest their foreheads together, chests heaving. His thumb dragged over Aiden’s kiss-swollen lips, eyes darkening at the sight like he wanted to claim it all over again. “Not here,” he rasped, accent thicker. “Not when I can’t fucking touch you properly.”

Aiden nodded, his thoughts dissolved into static, and let Chad drag him off the dance floor, through the pulse of neon and bodies, until they spilled into the alley behind the club.

The night air crashed over Aiden’s overheated skin like a shock, his breath catching, nerves sparking at the sudden temperature drop. He only had a second to register it before Chad stepped in close, crowding him back against the alley wall with all the scorching intensity of a wildfire. 

Brick scraped against Aiden’s leather jacket as Chad caged him in, one hand planted beside his head, the other sliding possessively around his waist. Heat radiated off Chad’s body in waves, countering the winter chill like a furnace.

“Better,” Chad murmured, his molten-fire eyes raking down Aiden’s body as he was figuring out where to touch first. However, he won’t get the chance. Before Chad could surge forward again, Aiden grabbed him by the front of his shirt and spun them, slamming Chad back against the brick wall with a thud that knocked the smirk right off his face.

“My turn,” Aiden breathed, ice-blue eyes glinting with hunger as he crowded between Chad’s thighs.

The sudden reversal sent a jolt through Chad’s body, his pupils blew wide, his lips parting in surprise, but Aiden didn’t give him time to recover. He crashed their mouths together, swallowing Chad’s rough groan as he ground their cocks together in a slow, taunting roll.

Heat licked up Aiden’s spine at the way Chad shuddered beneath him, the man’s bravado cracking under Aiden’s sudden greedy touch. 

Chad’s hands flew to Aiden’s waist, fingers digging in hard. Not to push him away but to pull him closer. “Fuck,” His accent thickened, hips jerking up desperately. “You’ve been holding out on me, helado.”

Aiden had no idea what the fuck that meant, but he just smirks against his mouth, sliding his knee between Chad’s legs to pin him harder against the wall. “You talk too much,” he murmured before biting Chad’s lower lip hard enough to sting.

Aiden’s fingers trembled with pure impatient hunger as they wrestle with the buckle of Chad’s belt. The leather slid free with a sharp click, and he wasted no time shoving past the waistband of Chad’s designer jeans. His knuckles brushed against silk-thin boxers briefs, the material damp with precum and stretched taut over Chad’s erection.

Holy hell, this guy was noticeably bigger than Aiden, and the difference was impossible to ignore.

Chad tipped his head back against the brick wall with a rough laugh, his throat working around some smartass remark. But the words died the second Aiden’s hand slipped beneath the waistband and wrap around his arching cock.

A chocked noise punched from Chad’s chest, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. His hips jerk forward, instinctively seeking more friction, more of Aiden’s grip tightening around him in slow, devastating stokes.

“Fuck,” Chad rasped, fingers scrabbling at Aiden’s shoulders, nails biting into leather. His smirk long gone, replaced by something raw and wrecked. “You- fuck-“

Aiden leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Chad’s ear as he pumped him harder. “Still wanna talk?”

Chad’s answering groan was answer enough.

Aiden grinned against the skin of Chad’s neck, Chad’s entire body arching into his touch, muscles taut like live wires beneath sweat-slick skin. “Look at you,” Aiden murmured, dragging his thumb over the leaking head of Chad’s cock, smearing precum down the length in a slow, filthy stroke. “All that fucking attitude, and now you can’t even-“

Chad cut him off with a snarl suddenly as he surges forward. Chad grabs a fistful of Aiden’s hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat before biting down, hard, on the tender skin just below his jaw. Aiden hissed, his grip faltering for half a second, but Chad didn’t let up. He licked over the bite, soothing the sting with his tongue before growling against Aiden’s ear.

"Don’t get cocky," His free hand slid between them, fingers deftly popping the button of Aiden’s pants open. "You’re not the only one who knows how to play dirty."

The shock of cold air against Aiden's heated flesh lasted only a heartbeat before being replaced by something far more devastating. Chad's hand sliding into his open pants with practiced ease, his calloused fingers wrapped around Aiden's cock.

Aiden's breath left him in a punched-out moan as his knees nearly gave way, his forehead thudding against Chad's shoulder as his entire body jerked at the sudden contact. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the rough brick behind Chad's back, searching for purchase as pleasure arced through him like lightning. His hand around Chad’s cock halting slightly.

Chad’s chuckle vibrates against Aiden's temple, dark and satisfied. "That's more like it," he purred, the bastard, before twisting his wrist on the upstroke in that perfect, torturous way that made Aiden's vision whiten at the edges. His thumb swiped over the leaking cock head, spreading slickness down the length before tightening his grip just enough to make Aiden whimper. "Now we're even."

The sheer fucking audacity of it, Chad stealing control back, sent another shudder through Aiden's frame even as his hips jerked forward into that maddening grip. 

The alley air burned cold in Aiden's lungs with each ragged gasp, but nothing compared to the firestorm of sensation where Chad's hand worked him over. His own fingers tightened reflexively around Chad's cock in response, thumb circling the swollen head on every upstroke, dragging another broken sound from Chad's throat that went straight to Aiden's already throbbing dick.

"Fuck," Chad's voice fractured as Aiden twisted his wrist just so, their movements falling into a desperate, uneven rhythm against each other. Precum smeared slick between their fingers, the lewd sound of skin on skin nearly lost beneath their mingled panting. "Christ, your hand-,"

Aiden bit back a moan as Chad's grip tightened, his other hand clawing at Chad's shoulder as pleasure coiled tighter in his gut. He could feel Chad trembling against him, hips stuttering forward into his fist, both of them caught in this brutal push-pull of control and surrender.

Chad dragged his teeth along Aiden's jaw, breath scalding against his skin. "Close?"

Aiden didn't trust his voice, just nodded sharply, his rhythm faltering as Chad swiped his thumb over that perfect spot beneath the head again.

Fuck, he wasn't going to last a second longer.

Chad's laugh was dark with triumph as he felt Aiden unravelling. "Me too, helado. Come on-," His pace turned punishing, grip bordering on painful in the best way. "Let me feel it."

The command shattered whatever fragile control Aiden had left. His back arched as pleasure ripped through him, spilling hot over Chad's fingers with a choked cry. Chad followed moments after, cursing filthily in words Aiden didn’t understand as his hips jerked forward through his own release, both of them clinging to each other as the aftershocks rolled through them.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing mingling in the cold air. Then Chad huffed a laugh, pressing a biting kiss to Aiden's shoulder. "Guess we're even now."

Aiden shoved at him weakly, still coming down from the high. "Shut up."

Chad just grinned.

The cold air sobered them faster than Aiden expected. He could still feel the echo of Chad’s touch on his skin, the slick heat between their fingers cooling too quickly.

Reality crashing back in. 

Chad straightened, wiping his hand lazily on his jeans. His grin returned slowly, that same cocky, self-assured curve Aiden had felt pressed against his lips minutes ago.

"So…," He tipped his head toward the bar’s back door, where muffled bass still pulsed through the metal like a heartbeat. "Wanna come back inside with me? One more drink," he added, brushing his fingers over Aiden’s hip in a light, teasing stroke that still managed to feel like promise, “and then maybe my place?"  

Aiden’s pulse stuttered.

Yes.

That should’ve been the answer.

It was the answer.

But something twisted sharply in his chest. The haze of lust cleared, leaving behind a familiar, clawing panic.

“Yes.” Aiden said anyway, voice tighter than he meant it to be.

Chad didn’t notice. Or if he did, he mistook it for eagerness. His eyes flashed with satisfaction as he nodded once. “Good.” His knuckles brushed Aiden’s side like a goodbye touch before he stepped back. “Hold tight, gorgeous.”

Chad pushed off the wall, heading through the propped-open back door. The noise hit Aiden instantly. His pulse snapped. The alley seemed to tilt a little. His fingers flexed uselessly at his sides, still tingling from where they’d clutched Chad’s waist. The taste of him was still on Aiden’s tongue. His own heartbeat felt too loud, too fast.

He couldn’t do this.

Not the drinks.

Not Chad’s place.

Not the heat of someone who actually wanted him, who touched him like he meant it.

His body still throbbed from being rubbed up against Chad’s. His breath still shook from the way their cocks had pressed together. And the thought of walking back in there, of Chad kissing him again, touching him again, taking him home-

His chest tightened hard.

Run.

The instinct crashed down, cold and absolute.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Aiden pushed off the brick wall. His boots scraped loud in the quiet alley. He didn’t care. He didn’t look back. Didn’t wait to hear Chad’s footsteps. Didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face when he realised the “yes” Aiden gave him wasn’t one he could actually follow through on.

He slipped into the next side street, heart pounding too fast, breath sharp and shallow as he put distance, any distance, between himself and the heat he suddenly, desperately couldn’t handle.

Whatever warmth Chad had coaxed into him was already fading.

When the back door to the club opened, Chad stepped into the alley with the two drinks in each hand. The night air hit him, but it did nothing to cool the heat coiling low in his gut. He scanned the alley, shoulders tense, pulse spiking.

Nothing.

A hiss of frustration escaped him. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath, sharp and bitter, “the hottest guy in the club, and poof… gone.”

One glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the asphalt. The other followed, clattering against the wall. His jaw clenched, and for a heartbeat, the frustration flared into something raw and physical. Fire sparked along his fingertips, a quick, uncontrolled burst that lit the alley in flickering orange before he slammed it down, hissing as the energy died.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, shoulders sagging in disbelief, letting out a sharp laugh that was half amusement, half exasperation.

A heat that Aiden had left behind still simmered inside him, coiling through his chest, igniting every nerve.

“Motherfucke—”

Notes:

He stayed late because it was easier than dealing with the chaos during the day.

Because silence made sense to him.

Because someone had to make sure their team didn’t get flagged for “unprofessional conduct” again.

But tonight, as always, the one person he wanted to avoid was exactly the one who found him.

Flambae. The reckless arsonist-turned-reluctant-hero that was all heat, impulse, and explosive problem-solving. And Aiden Korr, Frostbite, was a walking blizzard with the patience of a landmine and the temperament to match.

Every mission briefing dissolved into bickering.

Every mission itself somehow went flawlessly.

Flambae dove headfirst into danger, Aiden froze the world around him to keep him alive, and neither would ever admit just how perfectly their abilities fit together. The others joked that where Flambae went, Aiden followed—glowering, complaining, and catching him every single time he fell.

“Only because someone has to keep you from burning down half the city,” Aiden always muttered.

Flambae always grinned. “Aw, you care.”

They didn’t get along. They didn’t agree on anything. They didn’t even stand a normal distance apart—always too close, always circling each other like opposing elements pulled into orbit.

But the team knew one thing for certain: When fire met ice, steam followed. And a lot of stubborn denial.

Tonight was supposed to be simple: file the post-mission reports before Blonde Blazer threw another tantrum about “professionalism.” The team had returned late, exhausted, still dusted with ash and frost.

Aiden should’ve gone home.

Flambae should’ve been banned from the building after his last “accidental” desk fire.

But after-hours was exactly when their nonsense flourished.

AFTER HOURS

Aiden pushed open the Dispatch office door, expecting silence. Instead he found the faint glow of orange light flickering behind the cubicle wall of one of the desks.

Robert’s desk.

Of course.

Flambae was perched in Robert’s chair like he owned the place, spinning slowly in a half-circle, a pen dangling from his mouth. There was already a fresh scorch mark on the corner of the desk.

Aiden sighed. “Really. Really.”

Flambae’s smile spread, bright and smug. “Hey Frostbite. Look, I’m helping with paperwork.”

“You burned it.”

“Yeah, but now there’s less paperwork. You’re welcome.”

Aiden rubbed his forehead. “You’re supposed to fill out the reports. Not cremate them.”

Flambae pushed the chair back, standing with a stretch that made the room feel ten degrees warmer. “Relax. Nobody’s here. We can finish it together.”

“We?” Aiden raised a brow. “Since when do you do anything with anyone?”

“Since it’s you.” Flambae shrugged, as if that wasn’t a direct hit to Aiden’s chest. “Besides…” His grin sharpened. “You make the boring stuff tolerable.”

Aiden looked away too quickly to hide it.

That was their dynamic in a nutshell—Flambae throwing matches, Aiden pretending he didn’t catch fire inside.

Flambae hopped onto the desk, hands planted behind him. “C’mon. Sit. Or stand. Or glower. Whatever you do.”

“I’m not sitting on Robert’s desk.”

“I am.”

“That’s the problem.”

Flambae only smirked wider, sliding off the desk and closing the distance between them with too-casual steps. “You’re tense,” he observed softly.

“I’m always tense. You cause half of it.”

“And you secretly like that.”

Aiden opened his mouth to argue.

Flambae took one step closer—close enough that heat radiated off him like a physical touch.

And Aiden forgot the argument entirely.

Flambae nudged Aiden back and Aiden’s hand caught the edge of the desk for balance. Before he could regain his footing, Flambae followed, bracing himself on either side of Aiden’s hips, caging him in.

Close enough that frost formed faintly on the desk under Aiden’s palm. Close enough that Flambae’s warmth chased up Aiden’s throat.

Aiden swallowed. “Get off me.”

“If you meant that,” Flambae murmured, voice low and warm against the side of his jaw, “this desk would be a block of ice.”

Aiden didn’t freeze it.

Flambae’s eyes softened just slightly, dangerously. “See? You don’t hate me half as much as you pretend.”

“You’re an idiot,” Aiden said.

Flambae whispered, “Yeah, but I’m your idiot on mission reports night,” leaning their foreheads together.

Aiden’s fingers curled into the fabric of the front of Flambae’s suit before he even realized he’d grabbed him.

The material stretched under his grip. It was thin, heat-resistant and skin tight. Clinging to Flambae’s chest like a second layer of flame. Aiden could feel the warmth bleeding through it, too close, too much, too deliberate.

The desk creaked under their combined weight, a warning Aiden ignored and Flambae clearly enjoyed.

Flambae’s breath brushed Aiden’s cheek as he laughed. “You know… for someone who claims to hate heat, you don’t seem in a hurry to get out of mine.”

Aiden narrowed his eyes. “You cornered me on a desk.”

“You let me,” Flambae countered, grinning.

Aiden opened his mouth to deny it—but Flambae shifted closer, chest pressed lightly against his, and the words melted off his tongue with embarrassing ease.

Flambae’s smile dipped into something less playful, more intent. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice dropping. “All frost and fight until I’m close.”

Aiden forced his heartbeat back into something calm, controlled. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“I think just highly enough,” Flambae said, leaning in like he might close the distance entirely.

But he didn’t.

He hovered—heat shimmering off him, pulling at Aiden’s carefully built walls, daring him to make a choice.

Aiden’s grip on his shirt tightened, steadier now. “You’re reckless. Irritating. Loud.”

“And you still haven’t shoved me off,” Flambae whispered, lips ghosting near Aiden’s jaw but not touching. “Which means you want me here.”

Aiden exhaled slowly, cold mist brushing warm skin. “I want you to shut up.”

Flambae smirked. “Then make me.”

For a heartbeat, neither moved.

The room felt suspended, the air between them thick with heat meeting cold.

Aiden finally answered the challenge.

Not with a kiss (yet). Not with a surrender.

But by grabbing a fistful of Flambae’s suit and ripping him closer in one sharp, decisive motion—dragging him in until their noses brushed and their breaths tangled. The heat-resistant fabric stretched under Aiden’s grip, tight against Flambae’s chest, pulling flush enough that Aiden could feel the heat radiating straight through it.

Flambae’s grin faltered, surprise sparking with a flicker of hungry mixed in.

Aiden’s voice dropped to a low warning. “Careful. You’re playing with someone who doesn’t melt.”

Flambae’s breath hitched, delighted, almost shaky. “Good,” he whispered. “I like a challenge.”

Aiden didn’t push him away.

But he didn’t yield either.

They hovered there—caught in a perfect knife-edge of heat and frost, stubborn and dangerous, neither willing to look away. Flambae’s hands settled on the desk beside Aiden’s hips, bracketing him in. Aiden’s grip tightened in the front of that skin-tight suit, pulling him a millimeter closer without meaning to.

The air between them steamed, soft and trembling.

Flambae’s voice edged rough. “Aiden… if you pull any harder, I’m going to—”

Aiden cut him off.

This time, with a kiss.

Flambae inhaled sharply against his mouth—heat flaring through the contact, met instantly by the sharp, controlled chill Aiden couldn’t quite restrain. Their lips collided somewhere between firestorm and frostbite, heat curling around cold in a perfect, impossible balance.

Flambae recovered fast—one hand finding Aiden’s jaw, the other curling into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him in deeper like he’d been waiting for this all night.

Aiden didn’t melt.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Not now. Not from this. Not from him.

I am cringe. I am free. I want this stupid man to have a stupid boyfriend and I want it to be a cliche, bite me. Enjoy this cringe I wrote while giggling over gay men as a lesbian. You're welcome. Here is Aiden's character sheet I made. Yes. He is an edge lord and is a dumbass. I love stupid men. Yes he ripped the sleeves of his coat off. Yes I made spelling mistakes. I love life.

Here is the art I made for the banner: