Cassian lit the fire himself tonight. Not the one in the hearth—but the one in him. And in Riven.
The moment Riven walked into the room, something changed.
No teasing.
No games.
Just need.
Their eyes locked—and the world fell away.
Cassian stalked toward him, shirt unbuttoned, eyes dark with hunger. Riven's breath caught. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there as Cassian closed the distance like a predator.
"You're burning," Cassian said, voice low. "I can feel it."
"Maybe I need to be burned," Riven whispered.
Cassian's mouth crashed onto his. It wasn't a kiss—it was a claim. Their bodies collided, mouths bruising, teeth clashing, hands ripping at clothes. Buttons flew. Leather groaned. Skin flushed.
Cassian shoved Riven against the stone wall, grinding against him with raw want. "Say it."
"I want you," Riven gasped. "Hard. Now."
Cassian spun him, palms flat against the cold wall, and slid his hand between Riven's thighs. His touch was ruthless—deliberate. Fingers circling. Dipping. Stretching. Preparing.
"Beg."
"Please—Cassian—" Riven's voice cracked with need.
Cassian slid inside in one powerful thrust. Riven let out a cry that echoed like a vow. The rhythm was brutal—hot, slick, relentless. Each thrust a punishment. Each moan a reward.
"You're mine," Cassian growled.
"Yours," Riven panted. "I'm yours."
Cassian reached around, stroking him in time with each thrust. The pressure built—white-hot and wild.
When they came, it was an explosion—raw, shuddering, unforgettable.
They collapsed, panting, still tangled.
Riven turned to face him, eyes wild. "You kissed the flame. You'll burn for it."
Cassian smirked. "Then let me burn."
And he kissed him again.
Slower this time.
Softer.
But just as devastating.