Whatever the small battle was waging in Cassian’s head, coloring his urges with anxiety and fear, evaporated once their lips met. The welcome feeling of familiar territory this time, heart racing as he perceived the smell and taste of Vince who all-too eagerly pressed up against him. As though he’d been waiting for this moment, for the second Cass said go. The realization caused Gryffindor's own body to betray him, shivers running over his arms at the feeling of nimble fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling them closer still. This wouldn’t be the last time, where the thrill of power he exerted over Vince would affect him this way (even if, eventually, that sense of power was more perception than reality).

The blonde was panting slightly once they pulled apart, his hand had long relinquished Vince’s to find a more comfortable position with both arms wrapped around his waist. He leaned his forehead against the other’s, not yet willing to break their silence as their eyes found each other again. Their second encounter felt different. Nothing about it left his mind fuzzy and hazy. He felt arms around his neck, he felt his own arousal, hot breath against his face. It felt like his insides were on fire. Though Vince started the next round, Cass met him halfway, just as greedily grazing teeth against his lower lip to encourage him to deepen their kiss.

They were lucky it was dark. They were lucky no one was around. Cassian couldn’t tell how long it was, it could have been seconds or minutes or more, before he hastily pulled back. Not to yell, or shove, or revolt - but to glance around them, behind them, making sure the coast was clear. Listening, through their hearts pounding, for the sound of anything that approached. Satisfied that they were safe for now, Cass returned his darkened eyes to the Slytherin. Something tasted like iron in his mouth, he didn’t know where it came from.

“Last time,” his voice felt low and thick as molasses. Whether he meant the reminder for Vince, or for himself, or for now or later - it didn’t matter. He was stepping forward, leg in between Vincent’s, bringing them back up against the embankment to shield them from view against the slope of the grassy hill. It was inelegant, they’d probably tumble and fall sooner or later. Cass didn’t care. His hands were busy, one arm still firmly wrapped around Vince’s waist while the other grabbed a fistful of fabric against his ribs, relentless as he sought the other’s mouth again.

---