The night after the breakdown, Riven barely spoke.
He didn't need to.
Cassian could read him now—in the twitch of his fingers, the tilt of his lips, the flicker of war behind his eyes. Silence wasn't emptiness. It was loaded, simmering. And Cassian knew better than to break it with words.
Instead, he lit candles.
The bedroom was cast in amber light—soft and flickering, shadows dancing over the walls. The sheets were cool. The air, thick with unsaid things.
Riven stood at the doorway, shirt unbuttoned, body bruised with both love and memory. His eyes held both need and warning.
Cassian offered his hand.
Riven took it.
Cassian guided him to the bed like he was leading him into sacred ground. He said nothing as he stripped away the last of Riven's clothes, revealing skin that carried too many stories.
And he didn't speak as he laid him down and kissed him—slowly, reverently—like the silence between them was holy.
There was no urgency.
No fire to put out.
Only the weight of what they'd survived.
Cassian's lips traveled over Riven's throat, his chest, pausing over each breath. His hands mapped muscle and bone like memorizing the language of the man he loved. Riven arched for him, body whispering what his voice refused to say.
When Cassian finally reached between Riven's legs, he moved slowly—stroking him open, teasing, savoring. Every moan was swallowed with a kiss, every tremble held in strong hands.
"Cass…" Riven gasped, his voice hoarse.
But Cassian shook his head gently. "Shh. Don't talk tonight. Just feel."
He took him then, slow and deep, until they were sweat-slicked and shaking, bodies tangled in rhythm. Riven's legs wrapped around Cassian's waist, pulling him closer, deeper—every inch a surrender.
Their gazes stayed locked. Eyes burning. Silences louder than any scream.
Cassian thrust into him again and again—measured, controlled, as if anchoring them both. Riven's moans grew choked, desperate, but he never said a word.
Because he didn't have to.
His body spoke louder than any confession.
And when he shattered, crying out silently, Cassian followed, releasing inside him with a low groan of devotion.
They lay there long after, heartbeats echoing in the quiet.
And as Cassian traced slow circles on Riven's back, he finally whispered, "You don't have to speak to be heard. Not with me."
Riven pressed his lips to Cassian's chest.
No words.
Just truth.