Turning his head, Eridan found his Master watching him with a strange, intense expression.
Castien lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over Eridan’s cheek.
Eridan shivered and held himself very still, stunned. It was so rare for his Master to touch him voluntarily instead of simply tolerating his affections.
Eridan licked his dry lips. His skin felt prickly, too tight. “Master?”
“You should grow a beard,” Castien said, with faint irritation in his voice.
“A beard?” he repeated blankly, looking into Castien’s eyes. The blue of them seemed so dark at the moment they looked almost black.
“Yes.” Castien brushed Eridan’s jawline with his thumb, a displeased twist to his lips. “You do not even have stubble. Your face is still disgustingly pretty and boyish. No wonder Tethru wants you.”
Eridan scoffed, trying not to lean into the touch like some touch-starved animal. “Well, I’m sorry, Master, for having the audacity to be born with my face.”
“Don’t give me attitude, Eridan,” Castien said, his eyes flashing.
Eridan dropped his gaze. Although his Master wasn’t easily angered and was surprisingly tolerant of his attitude, sometimes his patience was worn thin and his displeasure could be very unpleasant.
“You know I’m right, Master,” he said in a more neutral tone of voice. “I can’t help it. I’m a throwback, remember?” He wasn’t exaggerating: throwbacks were physiologically different from the rest of Calluvians. Most throwbacks had softer, more refined features, and were usually incapable of growing any facial hair. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t look his age.
“Yes, a throwback,” Castien said, as if he were tasting something foul. “Which undoubtedly only feeds Tethru’s fascination. He likes them.”
Eridan glared at him. “I’m not sure what’s worse: people who fetishize us or people who find us disgusting.”
A wry smile touched Castien’s lips. “I am not disgusted with you, Eridan. I am many things about you, most of them not nice, but disgusted is not one of them.”
Eridan blinked, unsure how to take it.
As always, when he felt confused, he found himself in need of reassurance.
Tell me you care. I need you to tell me you care. I need you to care. I need you.
He leaned into his Master’s hand, rubbing his cheek against it.
Castien allowed it, staring at him with an unreadable, fixated look in his eyes.
“I missed you, Master,” Eridan murmured, his eyelids becoming heavy from the rush of endorphins.
“You should make friends your age,” Castien said in a clipped voice. “You are touch-starved.”
“You don’t have any friends, either,” Eridan said.
“I do not need them. But you are not me.” Castien’s finger brushed against his telepathic point, and a whine slipped out of Eridan’s mouth, his telepathic core pulsing with need.
Fuck, it had been too long.
“Please,” he whispered, meeting his Master’s gaze. “Just a short one?”
A muscle twitched in Castien’s jaw. “You always say that, but it’s never a ‘short one.’ You are addicted, Eridan.”
He shook his head with a faint smile. “I’m not. If I were addicted to the merge, I would have been a wreck after a month and a half away from you. But I was fine, Master.” That was a bit of a lie—he had been very far from fine—but he wasn’t a wreck, either. Eridan was sure he was getting a little better at controlling himself when it came to having his Master’s mind inside his.
Or at least, he wasn’t getting worse. Having Castien inside him was just his favorite thing in the world. He never felt more connected to his Master than when Castien was touching his telepathic core. It was the only thing that made him feel like Castien really cared for him. And although Eridan knew Castien still held back, keeping some of his shields, it was still the closest thing to honesty and affection Castien allowed.
“It is not a merge,” Castien grated out, shooting him an irritated look. “What we do… is simply a deeper telepathic contact than mental probing. That is all.”
Eridan rolled his eyes with a smile. “Whatever you say, Master.” As long as he got his Master inside him, he didn’t care what Castien called it.
“Insolent brat,” Castien said, but his thumb was already pressing against Eridan’s telepathic point.
Push, and his Master was finally inside him, slipping into him with practiced ease. Eridan moaned, his hand grasping his Master’s dark tunic to keep himself on his feet. It felt incredible after so long apart, Castien’s mental touch soothing every ache inside him, the loneliness that ate him from