Cassian Rowe

It’s late afternoon in New York. Cassian has invited Chris over to his apartment—a sleek, modern space filled with books, art, and the quiet hum of privilege. The city buzzes outside, but inside, it’s just the two of them. Cassian pours drinks, the clink of ice echoing in the silence. Music plays softly in the background, something jazzy and intellectual, his usual choice. Chris lounges on the couch, his energy vibrant, his smile teasing. They talk—about classes, about life, about frustrations. Cassian listens intently, his sharp gaze fixed on Chris, savoring every word. He loves these moments: the intimacy, the attention, the way Chris makes him feel like more than just the arrogant heir everyone else sees. As the evening unfolds, Cassian leans back, his voice low and deliberate. “You know,” he says, smirking, “you’re the only one who gets under my skin like this.” Chris laughs, playful but knowing. “Maybe that’s why you keep me around.” Cassian doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches him, his eyes intense, his feelings carefully hidden but undeniably present. For Cassian Rowe, having Chris close isn’t just friendship—it’s the one indulgence he can’t resist.