CHAPTER 161: CHAPTER 161: ONLY I CAN BE YOURS [R]

The world tilted.

One second, Cassian’s dream-self was leaning into the warmth of that embrace—caught between the teasing comfort of playful banter and something achingly tender—and the next, he was gasping as his body was flipped effortlessly, his back pressing against the soft dew-kissed grass, the sky above him suddenly eclipsed by a figure that stole the very breath from his lungs.

He knew that face.

Even before the light spilled across it like reverence. Even before those eyes—deep, mercilessly kind—locked onto his with a hunger that made the world fall silent.

It was him.

Prince Dorian. Supreme Lord of the Demon Realm. The man he had run from in reality, the man who had haunted his silences, the one whose name his heart had always spoken in secret.

He’s Dorian. It was really him.

And Dorian’s gaze was burning through him—burning like every star in the sky had fallen into his eyes just to be reflected in Cassian’s trembling soul.

"You..." his dream-self whispered, voice caught somewhere between disbelief. But the rest of the words never left his lips.

Because the Supreme Lord leaned down until his breath danced across Cassian’s mouth—until their noses brushed, until their foreheads touched like a sacred vow—and then he murmured against his lips, voice low, rough, and reverent:

"You have a privilege they will never have."

Cassian’s lashes fluttered. His heart stuttered.

"...What?" he breathed, helpless, undone.

But Dorian didn’t answer with words.

He answered with a kiss.

Fierce. Claiming. Starving. It wasn’t gentle—not even close. It was the kiss of a man who wanted to completely devour him, claim him.

His mouth crashed against Cassian’s with a hunger that spoke of a thousand unsaid things. His hand cupped the back of his head as if he were something fragile and irreplaceable, as if letting go would be a sin the heavens could never forgive.

And Cassian—his dream-self didn’t shy away.

His fingers twisted in Dorian’s hair, yanking him closer. He kissed back with all the fire he’d kept locked in his chest, all the longing he had buried beneath his sarcasm and solitude. Their mouths moved with a rhythm only they understood—raw, desperate, melting time itself into the space between their lips.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads still pressing together, breath mingling like prayer, Cassian’s dream-self stared into Dorian’s eyes with a fire that could burn kingdoms.

"This is only for me," he whispered, voice trembling with possessive fury and fear of losing something too precious to name. "Only I can be your consort. That place beside you—it belongs to me. Those concubines can never... they can never take that from me. Do you understand? Never."

And Dorian...he smiled.

Not the regal, distant one the court always saw. But the smile only Cassian had ever known. Soft. Devoted. Eternal.

"Those concubines are nothing in my eyes, love," he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from Cassian’s cheek. "They’re titles. Court members. Political placeholders.

They represent the domains, yes—but they do not represent me. They were selected by the elders to be presented as candidates, but I have never even looked at them as anything but duty."

His voice dropped into a growl.

"They are ornaments in a garden I do not walk. My heart..." He took Cassian’s hand, placing it flat against his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. "...belongs only to you."

Cassian stared, breath caught, soul trembling. The warmth beneath his palm... the rhythm... The way Dorian looked at him, like he was the beginning and end of all creation—it made something inside him unravel completely.

"You think time could change this?" Dorian murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "You think centuries matter? You could sleep for an eternity, Cassian, and I would still be here when you opened your eyes—waiting. There has never been anyone but you. Not then. Not now. Not ever."

And when Dorian whispered again, "You are the only one who belongs beside me," Cassian believed him.

The dream didn’t stop with whispered vows or gentle kisses.

No, the moment Dorian leaned in again—pressing his body fully against him, kissing down his neck with a hunger that sent shivers racing along every nerve... Cassian’s dream-self gave in completely.

There were no barriers left.

Just two souls...starved for one another, devouring every inch, every breath, every heartbeat like they had forgotten how to live without it.

Clothes melted away under their hot touches. Dorian’s mouth found every part of him with a reverence that was maddening, addictive, and overwhelming.

Cassian arched, whimpered, and whispered his name like a prayer, over and over again, his voice breaking with every moan. Fingers tangled in hair, nails scraped down bare skin, and every movement was so utterly intimate that the world around them ceased to exist.

They made love like two stars colliding. Like gods reclaiming their lost divinity.

And just when the dream reached its peak—just when Dorian whispered, "You are mine, only mine, now and forever," into his ear as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. Cassian jolted upright in his room; he was back from the dream.

He gasped.

Loud. Breathless. Desperate for air like he’d been drowning in honey and flame.

His chest heaved beneath the crumpled sheets, soaked in sweat. His hair clung to his forehead. And his face—his face was red. Not just a blush, but full-blooded crimson, like he’d just run through a thousand miles barefoot.

He stared at the ceiling, heart hammering so violently it made his ribcage rattle. His lips were still parted. His whole body ached—from shame, from memory, from something far more primal he didn’t even want to name.

And slowly, one hand rose.

He slapped it over his cheek, groaning into his palm like it could erase what he had just witnessed of himself.

"Holy gods," he muttered, voice hoarse. "How could I be so shameless...?"

He flopped backward onto the bed, covering his entire face with both hands now, groaning louder this time. The words echoed in his mind like a curse.

"I kissed him back. I—was grinding against him. Was that...It was really him?"

"I threatened to murder his entire harem to keep him to myself!"

"Oh gods—what was I doing?!"

He bolted up again and stuffed his head into a pillow, screaming into it like a teenager after a crush dream gone horribly right.

"I looked like I was the seducer! Not the seduced!"

"I am not that bold! I’m sarcastic, I’m complicated, I’m damaged—but that? That creature in the dream was a scandalous little—" He cut himself off with another shriek.

His hands dragged down his flushed face, and he dropped backward once more, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I have completely destroyed my self-image," he whispered, as if narrating his own downfall. "The worst part is... I enjoyed it."

He rolled over and buried his face again.

"Someone help me..."

But even as he muttered and cursed and tried to pretend it was all some strange, ridiculous fantasy—he couldn’t shake the feel of Dorian’s lips on his neck.

The way he whispered Cassian’s name like it was the only one that mattered in any realm. The way those arms had held him—not just possessively—but protectively, like Cassian was something sacred.

And no matter how embarrassed he was...

He found himself curling around the pillow, whispering, just once word...too quietly for the night to hear:

"...Mine."