The rain tapped gently against the penthouse windows, streaking trails across the glass like tears. Riven stood barefoot on the marble floor, his body draped in a loosely tied silk robe, the deep crimson fabric sliding over his inked skin like liquid fire. He had barely slept. The memory of Cassian's last touch, the bruising kiss, the whispered threat of something deeper—something dangerous—still clung to his skin.
Behind him, the soft clink of glass and ice. He didn't turn.
"I thought you'd left," Riven said, voice low and laced with fatigue.
Cassian's voice came from the shadows. "I did. But I don't like being lied to."
Riven turned slowly, the candlelight flickering over the contours of his bare chest. "And yet you surround yourself with mirrors."
Their eyes locked. In the distance, thunder rolled, low and distant, as if echoing the storm building between them.
Cassian stepped forward, his tailored shirt damp at the shoulders, clinging to him like a second skin. The air between them thickened, heavy with the scent of rain and tension.
"You gave away that sketch," Cassian said quietly, not a question but a blade—sharp, precise, controlled fury.
"It wasn't yours to keep," Riven said, lifting his chin. "None of this is."
Cassian closed the distance in a single step, his hand braced against the wall behind Riven's head. His other hand slid to Riven's waist, gripping hard, possessive. Riven inhaled sharply, the contact igniting everything he'd tried to bury.
"You keep pushing me, thief," Cassian growled, eyes dark with a hunger that was never just physical. "But you forget—I chose you. And that makes you mine."
Riven let the silence stretch until it frayed at the edges. His breath caught, lips parted. "Maybe I want to be unchosen."
Cassian's laugh was low, bitter. "Too late for that."
Their mouths met in a kiss that wasn't sweet—it was war. Tongues clashed, teeth grazed. Cassian's hand tangled in Riven's hair, dragging his head back just enough to bite along his jaw. Riven gasped, the sound caught between defiance and desire. The kiss deepened—slow, punishing, desperate.
Riven pulled away first, panting, his fingers trembling as they clutched the lapels of Cassian's soaked shirt.
"Why do you keep coming back?" he asked, voice raw.
Cassian's thumb brushed over the edge of Riven's lip, tracing the redness he'd left there.
"Because you make me forget the rules," he murmured. "And I built the world by them."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was filled with the things neither of them dared say. The vulnerability that crackled just beneath the fire. The longing neither of them could control.
"I'm not your property," Riven whispered.
Cassian leaned in, pressing his forehead to Riven's. "No. You're my obsession."