Castien’s grip on his hip tightened, his cock thrusting faster and faster, slamming into his pliant body until Castien went tense, his pleasure bleeding into Eridan and making him moan weakly again. Gods, it felt so good. He’d never felt better in his life.
Eridan had no idea how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes.
The heavy body against his back was gone. Something sticky and cooling was running down his leg. Eridan flushed, realizing what it was. This was his Master’s semen leaking out of him. His Master had fucked him, no matter how surreal it now seemed.
It felt even more surreal when Eridan turned and found Castien looking impeccable, fully clothed, not a hair out of place. He stood by the window, looking at the darkening sky. “You should go to your room, Eridan.” His voice wasn’t cold, but it sounded strange. He wouldn’t look at Eridan.
If Eridan didn’t feel pleasantly sore, he would never believe that they’d just had sex.
“Right,” Eridan said awkwardly, pulling his pants up and trying to ignore the bodily fluids on his thighs. He could wash later.
Feeling decidedly off-balance, Eridan headed to his room.
Once there, he leaned against the door, blinking dazedly, his body still tingling all over.
What had they done?
What now?
Chapter Nineteen: Ill-advised
“His Grace is busy, Eridan. You can’t go in there!”
Eridan stopped and looked back at Irrene. “I’m his apprentice. His orders don’t apply to me.”
The woman looked between him and the closed door, clearly stressed, so Eridan took pity on her. “I will tell him you’re not to blame.”
The anxiety on Irrene’s face eased. She nodded, looking at him curiously. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Eridan. Your Master was very worried.”
Eridan shot her a skeptical look and marched toward the door, projecting confidence he didn’t really feel.
It had been four days since he’d last seen his Master.
The first few days Eridan had tried to rationalize Castien’s absence. He had told himself that Castien was likely busy working on how to keep his end of the deal with the rebels—or how not to. He told himself that if Castien was needed at the monastery, it would be simply impractical to travel back and forth between the monastery and High Hronthar.
But it was useless to deny it anymore: his Master was clearly avoiding him, and it didn’t take a genius to guess why. Eridan would have liked to say it simply exasperated or pissed him off, but there was a tight feeling in his chest that couldn’t be as easily explained.
He entered the office, determined to behave as normal as possible. He would be damned if he let it show that Castien’s avoidance bothered him.
The room was large but very plain. Eridan hadn’t been here often since he’d started distancing himself from his Master, and he absently noted that it still had no personal belongings of Castien’s despite him being the Grandmaster for over a year.
His Master was seated behind the massive desk that looked like it could actually be as old as the monastery, his gaze on the hologram in front of him. Eridan had only managed to glimpse an unfamiliar planet before Castien turned the hologram off.
Castien lifted his gaze and regarded him calmly, his expression difficult to read. “I see your proper apprentice act is over,” he said. Bizarrely, he didn’t seem annoyed.
Eridan cocked his head to the side, considering his course of action. There were several ways he could approach this, but… he was tired of this game. Tired of pretending. Tired of doing the smart thing.
So he rounded the desk, straddled Castien’s lap, and said, “Let’s fuck, Master.”
He watched Castien’s jaw tighten and his eyes darken. “Eridan… I thought you understood that what happened was ill-advised.”
“Sure, I understand, Master,” Eridan said, burying his fingers in his Master’s hair. He laughed a little. “I know exactly how ill-advised it is.” He brushed his lips along Castien’s hard jawline, shivering from the contrast between his soft lips and his Master’s stubble. He didn’t know why it turned him on so much, but he was already achy and slick, his cock straining his pants. He nipped at Castien’s jaw, felt his Master’s powerful muscles tense under him, against him. Fuck, he smelled so good. “Let’s do it anyway.” He murmured into Castien’s ear, “Come on, Master. You know you want to. You’ve wanted this for years. We did it once already. Once, twice—what difference does it make? I’m so ready for you already. So slick for you.”
Castien’s hands gripped his hips hard, his eyes glaring daggers at Eridan even as his telepathic presence pressed closer, exhilaratingly oppressive and greedy. “Eridan, stop—”
Eridan ran his fingertips over the growing bulge under Castien’s fly. Smiled when Castien’s breathing hitched. “Don’t pretend to be a good man, Master. You’re not. You’re selfish, and you take what you want. And you want me.” He looked Castien in the eyes. “I’m your apprentice, aren’t I? You can do whatever you want with me.” When Castien’s pupils dilated, Eridan smiled, leaned in, and murmured against Castien’s lips, “So use me.”