The rain had stopped, but its echoes remained—trickling down the glass, whispering through the velvet night.
Cassian's bedroom was dimly lit, the air heavy with tension and something unspoken. Riven sat at the edge of the bed, fingers absently brushing over the black silk sheets. His body was still humming from their kiss, from the confrontation that had peeled them both raw.
Cassian stood silently at the foot of the bed, eyes roaming over the man in front of him. There was no lust in his gaze now—only ache, hunger, and the quiet confusion of a man unused to vulnerability.
"You're not a weakness," he finally said.
Riven looked up, the words threading into him like warmth. "Then stop treating me like I could disappear at any moment."
Cassian moved, deliberate and slow, until he stood directly in front of him. He knelt—knelt—between Riven's legs. A quiet surrender.
Riven sucked in a breath.
Fingers reached forward, undoing the buttons of Riven's shirt with unhurried care. One by one, until the fabric parted like petals, revealing the lean chest beneath—inked, scarred, beautiful. Cassian's hands didn't grope or command. They explored. Worshipped.
"This thread between us," Cassian murmured, brushing his lips over Riven's sternum, "it's fragile... but it's real."
Riven's hands tangled in silver-blond hair. His breath shuddered as Cassian's mouth moved lower, not with dominance, but reverence. Touch after touch, he undressed him without haste, leaving a trail of heated kisses and slow, sensual worship that had nothing to do with conquest.
Cassian wasn't claiming him.
He was choosing him.
When their bodies pressed together on the bed, it was less about heat—though there was plenty—and more about connection. Eye contact held. Hands gripped tight. Every thrust, every whispered name, was a reminder: You are mine. I am yours.
Time blurred. Words were replaced with gasps and groans. Riven arched into him, surrendering not to dominance, but to trust. To the thread that bound them—fragile, fraying, but real.
Later, tangled in sweat-damp sheets and each other's arms, Riven murmured, "This is new."
Cassian turned his face into the crook of Riven's neck, lips brushing skin. "It's real."
And for once, neither of them ran.