The morning sun crept through the curtains, golden light stretching across tangled sheets and sweat-slicked skin. Riven lay on his side, eyes half-lidded, watching the way Cassian's chest rose and fell beside him. Peace was rare between them, but in these early hours—when the world was still and the aftermath of desire lingered—he allowed himself to believe it was real.
Cassian stirred, his arm slipping around Riven's waist, pulling him close until their foreheads touched. "You didn't sleep," he murmured, voice hoarse.
"Didn't want to miss this."
Cassian opened his eyes slowly. "You're not going anywhere."
Riven's gaze dropped to the faded marks on Cassian's chest—the half-healed scratches, the bruises in the shape of his own fingertips. Then, down to his own torso, where Cassian's teeth had left blooming red reminders. Pain layered over passion. Possession over surrender.
"It doesn't scare you," Riven whispered, almost surprised. "What we do to each other."
Cassian's hand slid down his spine, anchoring him. "No," he said. "Because every scar you leave tells me you're still here. Still fighting for this."
Riven let out a shaky breath. "And if one day I break again?"
"Then I'll break with you," Cassian said. "But I'll never let you fall alone."
His words were soft, but there was steel in them—unyielding, fierce. He sat up, fingers brushing Riven's jaw. "Do you remember the first night you let me touch you like that?"
Riven did. Every moment. Every breathless confession, every desperate kiss against a wall that now felt like sacred ground. "You ruined me," he said with a faint smile.
Cassian's gaze darkened. "No. I revealed you."
He rolled Riven beneath him, careful but firm, lips trailing over the bruises he'd left. "I want you to remember this," he said, teeth grazing Riven's neck. "This moment. This body. This promise."
Riven arched, the sensation burning down his spine. "What promise?"
Cassian's hands gripped his thighs, spreading him open, slow and deliberate. "That I'll never stop claiming you."
He sank into him—slow, stretching the moment out, a different kind of ache blooming between them. This wasn't rage or desperation. This was worship. Reverence. A silent vow etched in every movement.
Riven gasped, his nails digging into Cassian's shoulders. "You always take your time when you're trying to make me remember."
"I want it burned into you."
Each thrust was deep, measured, the kind that didn't rush toward climax but lingered in the tension, the intimacy. Cassian bent low, lips at Riven's ear. "You're mine, and every mark proves it."
Riven came undone with a cry, chest heaving as Cassian followed, burying himself with a growl and holding tight as the world unraveled around them.
They stayed like that—bodies tangled, scars pressed to scars.
And in the silence, Cassian whispered, "Whatever tries to come between us, whatever darkness touches you again—I'll fight it. I'll fight him. Even if it breaks me."
Riven closed his eyes.
And believed him.