The flames in the penthouse fireplace licked high, casting molten shadows across the silk-strewn bed where Riven lay half-draped in Cassian's robe, chest bare, hair damp from the bath they'd barely survived without tearing into each other.
He watched the fire like it whispered secrets, his thoughts tangled.
Cassian returned from the bar with a glass of aged whiskey in one hand—and ice in the other. He set the drink down untouched.
"I don't just want your body tonight," he said, voice low and steady as heat. "I want your surrender."
Riven smirked, but it wavered. "You've already had that."
Cassian stepped forward, undoing the belt of his robe. "No. I've had your body fighting to enjoy me. Now I want you raw. Open. Not holding back."
Riven's breath caught.
Cassian climbed over him with slow, commanding grace. He straddled Riven, tracing the ice cube down his sternum, across a nipple, watching Riven shudder.
"You're fire, Riven. Untamed. Dangerous. I don't want to extinguish you. I want to kiss the flame."
He leaned down, replacing ice with mouth, heat with heat—tongue dragging over the wet line he left behind. Riven arched into the touch, a low groan spilling from him.
"Cassian—"
"Shh. I'll speak for both of us tonight."
His hands mapped every inch of Riven's skin like sacred territory. He alternated slow caresses with rough grasps, biting down on every spot that made Riven writhe. When Cassian's mouth closed over him fully, Riven cried out—loud, wrecked, unashamed.
It wasn't just pleasure.
It was worship.
Cassian didn't stop at one release. He coaxed more from Riven with cruel patience, pushing him to the edge again and again—then denying him. Holding him with his voice, his mouth, his hands.
Until Riven was begging.
"I can't take it—fuck, Cassian, please—"
"Say it."
"I want you inside me."
Cassian kissed him hard, tongue tasting desperation and fire. "Then beg louder."
Riven cursed and obeyed.
And when Cassian finally gave him what he craved, it wasn't soft. It wasn't careful.
It was honest.
Bodies collided, tangled, sweat-slick and fevered. The rhythm was relentless, the tension unbearable. Riven's hands clawed down Cassian's back, nails digging into muscle. Cassian's grip bruised his hips, pulling him flush, deeper, harder.
They moved like they were burning the world down with every thrust.
"You're mine," Cassian growled. "Say it."
"I'm yours."
"Say it like you mean it."
"I'm yours, Cassian—fuck—always—yours!"
And when they both came, it was as if the room fractured—the fire roared behind them, and stars exploded in Riven's mind.
Cassian collapsed against him, breath ragged.
They lay tangled in the aftermath, sweat cooling, skin buzzing.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then, Cassian kissed the side of Riven's throat, where his pulse thundered.
"See?" he whispered. "The flame doesn't have to burn alone."