The world outside raged with a storm, wind howling through the eaves as lightning clawed the sky. But inside the room, another storm brewed—quieter, more dangerous.
Cassian stood at the window, shirtless, fists clenched at his sides. His back was taut, muscles drawn like a bowstring. The shadows kissed the lines of his spine, carved by frustration, by desire left unchecked.
Riven leaned against the doorway, watching him, knowing the fire in Cassian wasn't just from lust. It was the past clawing its way back. Silas's return. Old wounds ripped open.
"You haven't touched me in two days," Riven said softly.
Cassian turned slowly. His eyes weren't cold—but they were burning.
"I'm afraid if I do," he said, voice low, rough, "I'll lose control."
Riven took a step forward. "Maybe that's what we need."
Cassian moved then, fast—too fast for thought. One second they were apart, and the next Riven's back hit the wall, breath caught between a gasp and a moan. Cassian's hand braced beside his head, his lips a whisper away.
"You want me to lose control?" Cassian growled, jaw clenched. "You want to see what I've been holding back?"
Riven's breath trembled, but he didn't look away. "I want all of you. Even the part that scares you."
That broke the last thread of restraint.
Cassian's mouth crashed into Riven's with unrestrained heat—no choreography, no careful pacing. It was teeth, tongue, raw hunger. His hands tore at Riven's shirt, dragging it off in frenzied desperation. They stumbled toward the bed, knocking over a chair on the way, neither of them caring.
He devoured Riven's skin like a man starved, lips leaving trails of heat down his neck, over his chest, biting at the spot just above his hip—claiming. Riven arched beneath him, fingers digging into Cassian's shoulders.
"More," Riven gasped. "Don't hold back. Not tonight."
And Cassian didn't.
He took Riven like a storm—fierce, unrelenting, consuming. The bed rocked with their rhythm, sweat-slick bodies colliding in a fever pitch of need. Riven matched him, demanding, wild, pulling Cassian deeper into chaos with every thrust, every cry.
It wasn't pretty—it was primal.
It wasn't gentle—it was sacred.
Cassian's voice broke as he whispered, "Mine," over and over like a prayer, like a curse.
And Riven, with eyes wide open, whispered back, "Always."
When it was over, they lay tangled in the wreckage—sheets twisted, breaths ragged, skin flushed and marked with possession.
Cassian's voice was barely audible. "Did I hurt you?"
Riven turned, kissed his temple. "You freed me."
And outside, the storm passed—but the one inside them had only just begun.