When Dorian finally pulled back, Cassian's lips were swollen, his eyes glassy.
His heart thundered in his chest, but it wasn't just from the kiss—it was from the recognition, the clarity that shattered every doubt.
It was him.
It really was him.
"Dorian…" Cassian breathed, barely able to speak. "How are you here? I thought—you...you—"
But Dorian silenced him with another kiss, fiercer this time, filled with possession and heat. His hand cupped the back of Cassian's neck, anchoring him in place, refusing to let him escape—not that Cassian tried. He melted into the touch like he'd been waiting for it all his life, reasoning crumbling under the weight of sensation.
He knew he should demand answers. He knew he should pull away.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Dorian's lips left his once more, but only to trail lower—kissing along his jaw, then down his throat, each brush of his mouth sending sparks down Cassian's spine. He gasped softly, fingers digging into Dorian's shoulders.
