hands and cradled Eridan’s face. “You remember me.”
Eridan glared at him.
“You still love me,” Castien stated with the same unnervingly greedy look. “It is fine, Eridan.”
All right, Eridan was definitely angry now. “Fuck you, Master,” he bit out. “Being graciously allowed to love you isn’t enough for me. Get out. I won’t go with you to Hronthar. Since I still have my throwback hormones blocked, I can get over you. I will get over you. Leave. I’m sorry for wasting your precious time and asking you to erase my memories for nothing. As always, you were right: it was a bad idea. It’s better if we just avoid each other from now on—”
Castien kissed him.
Eridan wanted to push him away; he really did. But it felt like he had been dying of thirst and had just been handed a glass of water. A small moan slipped out of his mouth, and he surged forward, kissing back hungrily, unable to quench the thirst inside of him. Their bond flared open, pulsing with missed you, need you, missed you, need you.
When they finally broke apart for some much-needed air, they both were flushed and breathing raggedly.
“You talk too much,” Castien said into his cheek, his hands still cradling Eridan’s face. “You talk too much, and you are excellent at irritating me. I must be insane to actually like it.”
Eridan blinked, unsure he was understanding that correctly. “You missed me?” he said, his voice smaller than he would have liked.
Castien pulled back, his expression a little tight. He remained silent.
Eridan scoffed, turning away. “I need words, Castien. Your ‘I don’t feel emotion’ shit isn’t going to cut it anymore. Talk or leave me alone.” His voice wavered and he hoped Castien didn’t notice that. He had to be firm.
“I don’t know how to talk about such things.”
Contractions. Castien used contractions only when he was angry—or uneasy or very bothered by something.
Eridan cocked his head to the side and regarded him for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t that Castien didn’t have deep feelings; maybe the problem was his inability to communicate about them after years of carefully eradicating any strong emotions. Maybe he just needed to loosen up first. To lose that ironclad control.
“All right,” he said, his voice softer. “Let’s have an honest conversation. I’ll start, to make things easier for you. Do you know I was eighteen when I started touching myself thinking about you?”
Castien’s nostrils flared. He stared at Eridan with blown pupils.
Eridan suppressed a smile. “I couldn’t even stand you back then, but something about your awfulness, and your cold, high-handed attitude made me so frustrated and horny I touched myself all the time, stuffing my fingers inside me and imagining it was your cock.”
A faint flush appeared on Castien’s cheekbones. He swallowed and opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.
Eridan leaned in and pressed his nose against Castien’s cheek. Breathed in. Felt Castien stiffen, his body practically vibrating with tension.
“It was really fucked up,” he said. “I didn’t even like you back then, but you were the only thing I thought about when I masturbated.” He whispered against Castien’s ear, “You made me so wet, Master.”
Castien made a low sound, his hands grabbing Eridan’s ass and yanking it against his clothed crotch. Eridan gasped at the feel of the hard bulge of Castien’s arousal pressed insistently between his legs. His body felt weird. It wanted, his hole clenching, dry but oversensitive. It felt off. His entire body felt off. It was immensely frustrating and disorienting. He felt so aroused, but only his cock was reacting as expected, becoming hard and slick with lubricant, but his hole remained dry.
“Oh,” he whispered breathlessly. “I feel strange.”
“I did warn you about that,” Castien said, his voice tight as he peppered Eridan’s neck with hungry kisses and hickeys. “Blocking the throwback part of your brain would affect your physiology, too.”
Eridan shook his head, fighting the disoriented feeling. “Fix it. Fix me. Take the block off. Wanna have you inside me.”
Castien’s muscles went rigid. He was breathing unsteadily, his hands still holding Eridan against the hard bulge of his cock.
“No,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’m in no state to do it now. I need a clear head. I might hurt you.”
“I trust you, Master.”
He made a startled noise as his back hit the couch.
Castien climbed on top of him, bracketing his head with his forearms, his gaze dark and glassy. “You’re terrible for my control,” he muttered. And then he leaned down