The silence between them wasn't calm—it was a storm with teeth. Cassian paced the length of the dimly lit suite, shadows dancing on the walls, mirroring the tempest inside him. Riven stood at the balcony, arms braced on the cold railing, the night air swirling around his bare chest like an invitation and a warning.
"You walked away," Cassian said, voice low, ragged. "Again."
Riven turned slowly, the light from the city bathing his face in gold. "I needed to breathe. Before I burned everything down."
Cassian crossed the space in two strides. "Then let it burn," he growled, grabbing Riven's wrist and tugging him back inside. "I'm tired of pretending we're anything less than wildfire."
Their mouths collided with bruising intensity, the kiss more battle than surrender. Hands pulled, yanked, claimed. Clothing became a casualty in their war, scattered across the floor like broken promises.
Cassian's fingers pressed into Riven's hips, guiding him back until his spine met the wall. "I want to remember why I ever let you destroy me," Cassian hissed against his throat.
Riven's breath caught, his nails dragging down Cassian's back. "Because no one else ever touched you like I do."
Their bodies met in a fevered clash—needing, demanding, punishing. The air filled with heat and gasps, the creak of furniture, the rhythm of something primal reawakening. It wasn't gentle. It was raw, claiming, desperate—like they could mend the cracks between them by branding each other deeper.
After, when sweat cooled and breaths evened, Cassian stayed pressed against Riven's chest, their heartbeats syncing like they always had.
"You still want to burn the world?" Riven whispered, fingers tracing lazy circles over Cassian's shoulder blade.
Cassian tilted his head, lips brushing Riven's jaw. "Only if you're beside me in the flames."