***Cassius***
The heat didn't fade. It crested again soon after, pulling us back. He didn't kiss me, not once, not even when my mouth parted in helpless cries. His lips found every place but mine, throat, chest, shoulder, anywhere to brand me with his presence without giving me that last, dangerous closeness.
I clung to him, nails digging into his skin, torn between shame and need. Every sound that broke from me was humiliating, yet I couldn't silence them.
My body rocked helplessly against him, desperate for the relief only he could give.
His hands dragged over me like fire, claiming and relentless, forcing me to surrender again and again.
Time became meaningless. There were only cycles, the fever cresting, breaking, cresting again. Short pauses where we dragged water down our throats with shaking hands, or shoved scraps of food past cracked lips, before the fever demanded more of us both.
