Riven stood in the center of the penthouse, silk ropes coiled around his wrists, arms spread above his head, bound to the beam Cassian had installed for moments just like this.
Moments when control had to be taken—because emotions couldn't be trusted.
Cassian circled him, shirtless, suit pants hanging low on his hips, belt still in hand. His eyes weren't just dark—they were storming.
"Tell me why you let Silas touch you," he said, voice cold.
"I didn't let him," Riven snapped. "He cornered me at the gala—"
"And you smiled at him."
Riven jerked against the ropes. "Because cameras were on us!"
Cassian's fist slammed into the wall beside his head. "I don't care who was watching. He's not allowed to look at what's mine."
Cassian stepped forward. Grabbed his jaw. Kissed him hard—biting, bruising, tasting betrayal and fury.
Then he stepped back. Slowly unbuckled his belt. Let it snap between his fingers.
"You want me to believe you?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then prove it. Take everything I give. No safeword. No stopping."
Riven's breath caught. He nodded.
Cassian moved behind him.
The belt cracked across his thighs—once, twice—leaving burning trails.
Riven moaned. He welcomed the pain.
More lashes, more heat. Then fingers—slick, rough, invading. Stretching him until he cried out, trembling with need and fear and fire.
Cassian entered him without pause.
No mercy.
No softness.
Just raw, punishing possession.
Each thrust was a demand. Each kiss a threat.
Riven screamed his name when he came, shuddering.
Cassian followed, collapsing against him, both of them still shaking.
Silence. Then soft, broken words.
"I hate how much I love you," Cassian whispered.
Riven leaned his head back against him. "Then love me harder."
Cassian kissed the back of his neck, where the bruise was already forming.
And he would.
Tomorrow, enemies would rise. But tonight?
They were bound—by silk and fury and a love that scarred.
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