Cassian didn't speak as he led Riven down the corridor of his private wing—his hand gripping Riven's wrist like a tether. The hallway glowed with low amber sconces, their light brushing the edges of opulence: gold-veined marble, velvet drapes, and heavy portraits watching from the walls like silent judges.
At the end stood a door unlike the others—blacked wood with cold steel inlays. Cassian keyed in a code and pushed it open, revealing a room that pulsed with erotic power.
It wasn't just a bedroom. It was a chamber of desire.
Chains glinted on the walls. Padded leather benches curved like sin. A four-poster bed dominated the space, fitted with silk ties and overhead bars. And at the center, beneath a canopy of dim red lights, lay a velvet-lined cage.
Riven's breath hitched. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
"You brought me to your craving room," Riven said, his voice husky with both awe and fear.
Cassian turned to face him, unbuttoning his black shirt, revealing smooth skin and honed muscle. "No, Riven. I brought you to our craving."
The cage creaked open, and Cassian guided Riven inside—not forcefully, but with a possessive tenderness. "This isn't punishment," he murmured. "It's surrender."
Riven stepped in, feeling the plush velvet under his feet. The door clicked shut behind him. The symbolism sank in. He was caged—but safe. Controlled—but wanted. Owned—but craved.
Cassian dropped to his knees just outside the bars.
"You don't belong behind walls, Riven," he said, eyes blazing. "But you do belong to me. And I want you to feel what that means."
Cassian reached through the bars, gripping Riven's thighs, pulling him close. His mouth found Riven's skin—biting, sucking, branding. Every kiss a mark. Every graze a promise.
Riven trembled. "Cassian…"
"Do you want out?" Cassian asked, pausing.
Riven grabbed the bars, knuckles white. "No. I want you to show me what it means."
That was all it took.
Cassian unlocked the door just long enough to pull Riven out and slam him against the cold metal. He shackled Riven's wrists above his head to the overhead ring, his body stretched, exposed, open.
Then Cassian went to work.
Lips. Teeth. Tongue. Everywhere.
Riven's moans filled the chamber, raw and filthy. His hips bucked, desperate. Cassian licked a slow path up his stomach, stopping just shy of where Riven ached the most.
"Beg," he said.
"Please."
"For what?"
"For you to ruin me."
Cassian did. Again and again.
He made Riven come undone with nothing but his mouth, his voice, his hands. Every climax ripped another piece of control from Riven's body. Every touch was a confession of need.
By the time the shackles came off, Riven could barely stand.
Cassian carried him to the bed, laid him down gently, and joined him beneath the sheets—not as a master, but as a man surrendering, too.
They held each other as sweat cooled and hearts steadied.
Riven whispered against his throat, "You're not the only one with shackles, Cassian."
Cassian stroked his hair. "Good. Because I never planned to break free."
Outside, dawn threatened again.
Inside, two men—burned, bared, and branded by desire—slept in chains they'd chosen to wear.
Together.