The apartment door clicked shut behind them, soft but final. Leo didn't speak. He simply followed, quiet and steady, the emergency kit gripped in one hand like a loaded gun. Nox's knuckles were still bleeding.
They walked in tandem, the distance between them tense with all the things they couldn't say out loud. The living room lay in silence, the wine glasses from yesterday untouched, the blueprints rolled neatly on the coffee table, like none of this had ever happened. Like they hadn't been shaken to the core. Like Leo hadn't kissed him in front of his father and Dominik and a mafia boss with a gun to his head.
In the bedroom, Nox sat on the edge of the bed and offered his hands wordlessly. Leo knelt before him, opening the kit with practiced fingers. It wasn't the first time he'd cleaned up Nox after a fight—but tonight, everything had changed.
The gauze wrapped gently around the split skin, but Leo could still feel the crunch of bone, the wild panic that had filled him as he watched Nox—, Nyx—lose himself in a memory not meant for this world. Violet eyes bloodshot, lips trembling, his body coiled with fury and grief so ancient it cracked the air like lightning.he didn't know what triggered him or why it happened , he only knew he didn't ever want to see nox like that again .
shadows clung to the walls like secrets long buried, Nox lay vulnerable, his transmigrated soul a storm of memories . Nyx, the fierce female assassin, had died in a hail of blood and betrayal, only to awaken in this new vessel in a damn novel: a male body with black hair tied in a messy bun, violet eyes that burned with unresolved fury, she had adapted, keeping her assassin's edge while navigating college life, where she met Leo—the mafia prince with piercing blue eyes and short black hair, a man forged in the fires of power and loyalty.
Three years of unbreakable bonds had woven between them: brotherhood forged in late-night missions and shared silences, loyalty tested in blood-soaked alleys, and an unknown love that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken until now. Tonight, in this cramped room that smelled of old gun powder and fresh adrenaline, they crossed the line. Two bodies entwined in a dance of raw desire.
"Look at me," Leo said softly, his voice a velvet command as he tilted Nox's face upward. Their eyes locked—violet clashing with blue—and something primal shifted, the air thickening with the weight of years of suppressed yearning. Leo's thumb brushed the tender curve of Nox's eyebrow scar, the skin still healing, imperfect and beautiful, a reminder of the assassin's life that had nearly claimed him. He leaned in, and Nox didn't move, didn't breathe, as their lips met in a kiss that shattered the dam. It wasn't soft; it was raw, cracked open, mouths desperate to devour what words could never express. Leo cupped the back of Nox's head, fingers tangling in the messy bun, pulling him deeper into the kiss. A low sound escaped them—part gasp, part whimper—as tongues tangled, tasting the salt of sweat and the metallic tang of shared danger.
Clothes fell away in frantic, clumsy pulls, buttons scattering like spent bullets. Leo's strong hands stripped Nox's shirt, revealing the chiseled planes of his chest, the crimson tattoo snaking down his back like a living entity. Nox's breath hitched as Leo's lips trailed down his neck, following the fine edge of the scar from a wire that had nearly ended him, kissing it with reverence, apology, and a worship that made Nox's cock twitch in anticipation. No jokes, no witty remarks—only silence, heavy and electric, broken by the ragged rhythm of their breaths.
Nox lay back on the bed, the sheets cool against his heated skin, as Leo hovered above him, a mafia prince come lord stripped of his armor. Leo's eyes roamed over Nox's body, tracing the tattoo with fingertips that ignited trails of fire along his spine. The crimson ink pulsed under Leo's touch, as if awakening memories of Nyx's past life, the female assassin's spirit mingling with this male form in a twisted erotic haze. Nox arched beneath him, eyes fluttering shut, one hand rising to cover his face—half from the flush of embarrassment, half to hide the vulnerability of being seen so completely, not as the weapon or the fixer, but as a soul laid bare.
Leo leaned down, his breath hot against Nox's palm, and kissed that hand gently before pulling it away. "Let me see you," he whispered, the words a command that nearly shattered Nox. Nox nodded, his violet eyes meeting Leo's, and in that moment, their bodies collided like twin storms—urgent, needy, a clash of dominance and surrender. Leo's hand wrapped around Nox's hardening length, stroking with firm precision, thumb circling the sensitive head as pre-cum beaded at the tip. Nox gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily, the sensation foreign yet intoxicating in this body, amplifying every nerve.
Leo's own cock, thick and throbbing, pressed against Nox's thigh as he positioned himself between Nox's legs. "I've wanted this for so long, i thought of it so many times" Leo murmured, his voice rough with desire, as he leaned down to capture Nox's nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. Nox moaned, his hands clutching Leo's broad shoulders, nails digging in as Leo's fingers explored lower, teasing Nox's entrance with slick, probing touches. Oil bottle from the bedside drawer—grabbed in a haze—made the intrusion smooth, Leo's finger sliding in slowly, stretching him, preparing him for what came next.
Their rhythm built like a crescendo, Leo entering him with a slow, deliberate thrust that made Nox cry out, the initial burn giving way to overwhelming pleasure. "Leo... fuck," Nox groaned, his legs wrapping tight around Leo's waist, pulling him deeper. Each movement was a revelation, their bodies moving in sync as if remembering an ancient rhythm buried in their shared history. Leo's hips snapped forward, driving into Nox with increasing force, hitting that sweet spot that made stars explode behind Nox's eyes. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, wet and primal, as Leo murmured Nox's name like a prayer, kissing his neck, his lips, his shoulders, marking him with bites that would bruise.
Nox clung to him, his own hand wrapping around his cock, stroking in time with Leo's thrusts, the dual sensations pushing him to the edge. "Don't stop," he pleaded, voice breaking as Leo's pace quickened, their bodies slick with sweat. the hidden love, the raw masculinity clashing—heightened every thrust, every gasp, turning the act into a ritual of rebirth. They came undone together, Nox first, spilling over his hand in hot ropes as his body clenched around Leo, triggering Leo's own release deep inside him, a flood of warmth that left them both trembling.
Twice, maybe three times, they lost themselves in the haze, exploring every inch—Leo's mouth on Nox's tattoo, tracing it with his tongue; Nox flipping them once to straddle Leo, riding him with abandon, violet eyes locked on blue. By the time morning's pale light spilled through the window, casting the floor in gold, they collapsed in a heap, spent and sated.
Leo pulled Nox close, not for more sex, but for warmth, for the quiet intimacy that spoke louder than words. Nox curled into him, head tucked beneath Leo's chin, lips parted in uneven breaths, In that moment, the assassin and the mafia prince were simply two souls, bound by loyalty, love, and the unspoken secrets of the night. Nox's transmigrated heart beat in rhythm with Leo's, the ghost of Nyx past fading into the background, replaced by something new, something unequivocally theirs.
Across the city, Dominik screamed into a pillow in the backseat of the car.
"HE KISSED HIM. THE LITTLE BASTARD KISSED HIM."
The ex-boss calmly sipped his tea, watching the footage loop again on the hacked villa security feed.
"I've waited ," he said with a sigh. "You're welcome, by the way."
Dominik, with binoculars still dangling from his neck, hit the seat with the back of his head. "They're in love. It's disgusting. It's beautiful. I'm never going to emotionally recover from this."
He pulled out a third monitor, zoomed into the apartment window.
"You think they're fucking?"
"Dominik."
"I bet they're cuddling. Look at him. He's in love. Leo is in love. And Nox—Nox looked like he was going to murder someone and then sob into Leo's chest. Which he did. I SAW HIM TREMBLE."
"You could just talk to them."
"No. I'm too invested. This is cinema."
The ex-boss turned off the feed. "We'll give them a day."
Dominik clutched his chest. "I need wine."