The sound of the door locking echoed in Riven's ears like the sealing of a vault.
Cassian didn't say a word as he entered the room behind him—didn't need to. His presence was a storm wrapped in silk: quiet but devastating. The walls of Cassian's penthouse closed in tighter than ever, even as the space remained drenched in opulence. Gold fixtures. Velvet furniture. Moonlight bleeding through the sheer curtains like a ghost of freedom.
Riven stood at the window, shirtless, the faint bruises from the previous night blooming like ink kisses across his collarbone. A masterpiece in pain and want. Cassian's masterpiece.
He felt Cassian's gaze crawl down his spine, no touch needed. "This place," Riven murmured, "feels less like home, more like a gilded cage."
Cassian's voice slid through the dark. "I built it for someone who swore they wanted to stay."
Riven's eyes flickered toward the skyline. "It's not the bars that bind me. It's you."
Behind him, footsteps approached, slow and certain.
Cassian stopped just a breath away. "Then stay bound. Willingly."
Riven turned.
Cassian was bare to the waist, his trousers riding low on his hips, the belt in his hand not just an accessory—but a promise. A question. A test.
"Say it," Cassian demanded, voice low, roughened with restraint. "Say you're mine."
Riven's lips parted, but the words wouldn't come easily. Not after everything.
Cassian moved in, grabbing Riven's jaw—not to hurt, but to hold. "You want freedom? Then walk away. The door's unlocked now."
Riven looked down. The belt dropped to the floor between them.
Neither moved.
Then, slowly, Riven dropped to his knees—eyes never leaving Cassian's.
"I never said I wanted freedom," he whispered. "I said I wanted to be chosen… not chained."
Cassian's breath caught. For the first time in weeks, something in his expression cracked.
And then—he knelt too.
Face-to-face. Level. No master. No possession. Just two men trapped in something far more volatile than desire.
"I choose you," Cassian said. "Even if it cages me too."
Their mouths met with a violence softened by the way their hands clutched, desperate and reverent. The kiss deepened until it wasn't about heat—it was about surrender. Mutual. Maddening. Real.
What followed was not an act of dominance but of intimacy. Of rediscovery. Fingers mapped scars and tremors. Tongues whispered apologies in silence. The pleasure that built between them was slower this time—aching, lingering, filled with breathless pauses that meant stay.
Later, they lay tangled on the black silk sheets, bare skin warmed by the city lights.
"Love is the cruelest cage," Riven murmured.
Cassian turned his head. "Then we'll both stay caged. Together."