Bite the Flame

Riven woke with bruises on his hips—finger-shaped. Marks of a night he never wanted to forget.

Cassian hadn't just taken him.

He'd unleashed on him.

But this morning, silence lingered between them like smoke after a fire.

Cassian stood by the window, shirtless, coffee in hand, muscles tense. Watching the city. Plotting.

Riven sat up, sheets clinging to his skin, his voice rough from moans and screams swallowed by the dark. "You didn't sleep."

Cassian didn't turn. "Couldn't. The board's circling like vultures. Silas is baiting me."

"And me?" Riven asked, rising slowly, walking up behind him. "What am I, Cassian?"

Cassian finally looked over his shoulder. "Mine."

Riven's body flushed. Possessiveness like that? It wasn't sweet. It was branding.

But he wasn't about to let Cassian drown in plans and enemies. Not today.

He stepped in front of him, dropped to his knees.

Cassian growled low, jaw clenching. "Riven…"

"I'm not asking for your permission."

Riven bit the inside of his thigh—hard—before taking him in. No preamble. No mercy.

Cassian gripped his hair, hissed. The tension melted into groans as his control shattered with each stroke, each swirl of Riven's tongue. It wasn't gentle.

It was power, flipped.

When Cassian came, he didn't just moan—he roared.

After, Cassian yanked him up and crushed his mouth against Riven's, still tasting himself on his lips. He pushed him onto the cold marble table and took him again—fast, brutal, frantic.

Riven scratched his back, bit his shoulder, drew blood.

Cassian only thrust harder.

"Mine," he snarled into Riven's mouth.

"Yes," Riven gasped. "Always."

And when it was over—when the city outside buzzed with chaos and enemies—they stood together, bare, bruised, bitten.

Loyalty burned between them.

But desire?

It devoured.