The silence stretched, heavy and strained.
Eridan sighed. “I don’t want to fight, Master,” he said quietly. He hated how small his voice sounded. He might not have been traumatized anymore, but even the best mind healing couldn’t magically heal his frayed nerves. He really didn’t want to fight.
Castien’s lips thinned. “All right,” he said, to Eridan’s surprise. It wasn’t at all like Castien to let go of something.
Surprising him further, Castien touched Eridan’s thaal, rearranging it slightly, his fingers brushing against his neck. “You still look tired. Get some sleep until I get back. We will meditate together and work on extinguishing any remaining misplaced guilt over Tethru’s death.”
Eridan gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Master,” he said, leaning in and pressing his lips against Castien’s cheek. He inhaled deeply, letting the familiar, comforting scent of his Master soothe him in ways very few things did.
Everything would be all right.
He finally believed it.
***
Something changed about their relationship after Tethru’s death.
Eridan noticed that his Master was… a little gentler with him. A little kinder. More tolerant of Eridan invading his personal space and leaning into him.
Maybe he thought Eridan was still traumatized by what had happened in Tethru’s bedroom. He wasn’t, at least not anymore. Thanks to the mind healing and the joint meditations with his Master, Tethru’s assault and death now felt very distant, as if it had happened to someone else years ago.
In any case, Eridan certainly wasn’t complaining about his Master’s more indulgent attitude toward him. He soaked it up, greedy for every bit of his Master’s attention and affection. He knew there were things they should talk about, but he was too scared to break the current status quo and ruin the uncharacteristic warmth filling their bond.
It wasn’t as though Castien was affectionate, exactly. By most people’s standards, he probably still acted cold and distant, but Eridan knew him. By Castien’s standards, he was positively touchy-feely these days. A hand on Eridan’s shoulder or his lower back, the way Castien’s telepathic mark lingered on him long after they parted, the way he kept Eridan close to him, taking him with him to his meetings… If Eridan didn’t know better, if Castien wasn’t Castien, he would think… he would think his Master was feeling a little clingy. A little possessive. Or something.
They didn’t talk about it. Just like they didn’t talk again about their ugly argument before Tethru’s death. Just like they didn’t talk about the fact that they wanted each other in the basest sense of the word.
Eridan told himself it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to happen. Castien supposedly had his reasons why he wouldn’t have sex with him, and Eridan didn’t feel like humiliating himself again by bringing the subject up.
But while they may not have talked about it, Eridan could feel the unresolved tension in their every interaction, and he didn’t think it was one-sided. He thought he sometimes caught his Master staring at him, his gaze transfixed and hungry.
Just as he was looking at him right now.
“I see you like your room,” Castien said, gazing down at Eridan, who was sprawled on his bed in his new bedroom, a datapad in his hand.
Eridan smiled up at him, enjoying the way his Master’s eyes shifted to his mouth. “I do. This is the softest bed I’ve ever had. Though I’m going to miss the mansion.”
Castien shrugged slightly, his blue eyes flicking down Eridan’s body. “The mansion is still my property, but as the Grandmaster, I must live in the castle. You know that. I have been delaying moving here as it is.”
Eridan nodded, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. They were in his bedroom. He was on his bed. His Master was staring at him like he wanted to eat him. The moment stretched—
Castien cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “I need to go. I have an appointment.” And he stalked out of Eridan’s bedroom, the door closing after him.
Eridan stared at the ceiling for a moment before shoving his pants down and wrapping his hand around his hard cock. He moaned in relief. He didn’t even care if his Master could hear him. Let him hear him. Something about that thought appealed to Eridan very much, his cock throbbing and his hole aching to be touched, to be filled. He was already slick, had been from the moment his Master walked into his bedroom. He shoved two fingers inside himself, stroking his cock with his other hand. He imagined Castien’s blue eyes watching him, imagined his Master’s cock becoming hard. He imagined his Master ordering him to get on his knees and suck his cock.
He moaned, taking his hand off his cock and pushing three fingers into his mouth. He sucked on them with relish, imagining what his Master would taste like, would feel like inside his mouth, hot and pulsing, coming deep inside him, filling him with his seed. He would take it, would take everything, anything his Master gave him—