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.”
Castien lifted him and shoved him onto his desk.
It was a matter of moments to pull Eridan’s pants off and open Castien’s fly.
Eridan moaned, looking at the ceiling dazedly as his Master pushed into him in one hard thrust. He was so slick already he was dripping, his body hungrily adjusting even to his Master’s considerable girth. Fuck, he’d never get enough of this: feeling a part of his Master’s body inside his own, thick and pulsing, having proof that his Master wanted him. It was intoxicating.
His hands gripping Eridan’s hips, Castien pulled out, leaving only the head inside, and slammed back in. Eridan whined, tightening his legs around his Master’s muscular middle.
Part of him, a distant part, wondered if Irrene could hear them. He wasn’t even sure he cared; not at this moment. All he could feel was need: need for this horrible, heartless man, the need he shouldn’t have felt but did.
He gripped the edge of the desk and held on as the older man on top of him gave him a brutal fucking, all base, animal instinct and telepathic marks twining hungrily. It was unbearable. Unbearably good. Eridan hadn’t thought it was possible to feel so good, the pleasure spreading from his crotch to the rest of his body, sending his hunger spiraling higher and higher until all he wanted was more, harder, deeper.
He might have said that, but he wasn’t sure. He was too busy moaning and making unintelligible sounds, the cock in him driving away all rational thoughts. At that moment, all those demeaning slurs people said about throwbacks were true: he felt like a whore, like