The door slammed open, splintering on impact as Cassian stalked into the ruined manor. Moonlight spilled across broken tiles and jagged glass, framing the man bound to the blood-stained chair like some ruined god. Riven's head lifted slowly, blood crusted at the corner of his lip, a smile that was half-defiant and half-shattered playing on his bruised mouth.
"You came," he rasped.
Cassian didn't answer. His boots echoed like gunshots against the stone floor. His eyes were thunderclouds, jaw clenched tight enough to crack. The silence screamed louder than rage.
He grabbed Riven by the collar, yanked him to his feet. The ropes snapped like string, and Riven swayed but didn't fall. Their faces were inches apart, breath mingling like smoke and fire.
"Don't mistake this for mercy," Cassian said lowly.
Riven laughed—choked and bitter. "Didn't ask for it."
Cassian's mouth crashed against his.
There was no tenderness, no pretense. It was a violent collision of teeth and desperation. Riven groaned into it, tasted blood—his? Cassian's? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was burning again.
Cassian shoved him hard against the wall, hands everywhere—ripping at torn fabric, dragging down zippers, leaving bruises with every grip. Riven's shirt shredded beneath eager fingers, exposing skin already marred by battle.
Cassian's hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back to bare his throat.
"You should hate me," Riven breathed.
"I do."
And yet, Cassian's mouth found the curve of his neck, sucking bruises there like he wanted to brand ownership into his skin. His other hand slid between them, palming Riven through his pants, teasing, tormenting, until Riven bucked into him with a gasp.
"You want this?" Cassian growled against his ear.
"I want you to shut the fuck up and take me."
Cassian spun him, shoved him against the wall again, pressing flush against his back. One hand gripped his hip while the other dragged down his pants with punishing slowness.
No words. Only heat. Only the slick sound of skin against skin as Cassian pressed in, slow and brutal.
Riven's moan echoed through the hollowed-out room, sharp and raw. His fingers curled against the wall, legs spreading wider, bracing for the rhythm Cassian set—merciless, deep, claiming. The air filled with the sound of slapping skin, ragged breath, bitten curses.
Cassian's name fell from Riven's lips like a prayer and a curse.
"Fuck—Cassian—harder—"
Cassian obeyed. Faster. Rougher. One hand tangled in Riven's hair again, yanking his head back so he could kiss him—sloppy and deep, tongues clashing, as if speaking would ruin it. The tension built fast, sweat slicking their skin, muscles trembling.
And when release hit—white-hot and shattering—it tore a broken cry from Riven's throat and a guttural growl from Cassian's chest. They collapsed together, panting, trembling.
Silence fell again, heavy and too loud. Cassian pulled out slowly, hand brushing down Riven's spine with something dangerously close to tenderness. Riven turned, sliding down the wall, back to stone, eyes half-lidded.
Cassian stood above him, breathing hard.
"This changes nothing," he said hoarsely.
Riven smiled, tired and cracked. "No. It just makes losing you hurt more."
A chime echoed through the ruined hall. Cassian's comm buzzed, and a voice poured through—smooth, mocking.
"You've made your choice, Cassian," Valen said. "I hope he was worth the empire."
Cassian didn't flinch. He just stared down at Riven, jaw tight, heart thundering. And in that silence, something far more dangerous than lust stirred between them—devotion or damnation. Maybe both.