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Before I had the chance, he closed the distance between us, putting a hand on the back of my neck and then pulling me in to crush his lips against mine. Once again, I was convinced I was dreaming, but I didn't really care. When you found yourself in heaven, you didn't protest and ask if you were supposed to be in hell.
"Father—"
His teeth sank into my bottom lip in what seemed to be intended as chastisement. "Castor," he corrected, his voice rough and low. "If you have to call me anything tonight, call me that."
I nodded shakily. Before I could say anything else, he planted his hands on my chest and gave me a slight shove, but that was all it took to send me back onto the bed. I stared up at him in awe as he came over, planting his knee on the mattress between my thighs. He wrapped his arms around my neck and climbed in, kissing me again.
His lips were every bit as silky and alluring as I thought they would be. Everything about him, from the hard planes of his chest and his muscular biceps to the dark silk of his hair, was perfect.
The moment he gave me permission, however tacitly, my hands wasted no time exploring the body I had already groped and caressed and stroked every inch of so many times in my wildest fantasies and sweetest dreams. None of it compared to the reality of him, though. Not at all.
I knew why he was doing this. The answer was always present in the back of my mind, no matter how much I wished I could displace it. But it turned out I was pretty decent at compartmentalizing because it didn't even slow me down.
When Castor’s hand slipped into my hair, it felt like every tightened muscle in my body unwound. His left hand settled on my waist, pulling me up against him, and if I didn't know better, I would think he was actually into me. Even if it was only for the moment.
On the other hand, I wanted him like I had never wanted anything in my life. I couldn't even remember most of it, but I knew that with absolute certainty all the same.
Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I had touched someone, or who it was. Those memories were locked away in some part of my mind I didn't dare to access because of all the horrific memories that were sure to flow out along with the good. It didn't seem to matter, though.
Whatever had happened in the past, I felt like it had happened to another person, but this was here and now. I knew myself only in the spaces where he wasn't. I felt my own body in the way it pressed against his. In that moment, he was all there was and all there ever had been, and that was more than enough.
My tongue flicked against his lips, seeking entrance, and he gave it. His mouth was as cool as I had expected. My tongue swept into it, and I had never felt more inadequate or less deserving of a thing. I took it all the same, hungrily, voraciously. He returned the kiss, but there was no deluding myself into thinking that his prowess equaled passion.
Castor pushed me down, and as he lowered his body onto mine, I ground against him instinctively. Such close proximity to another person should've made the heat unbearable, but it was the only thing that made it tolerable. No matter how he touched me, it wasn't enough.
I started unbuttoning his shirt, my hands clumsy and trembling with need. All I could do was hope he didn't notice. If he did, he didn't say anything. He pushed his knees between my thighs instead.
Another rush of breath left me and I faltered momentarily. My pause was long enough for him to take over the task, easily unfastening the buttons that had given me such trouble in my frenzied state.
I watched, refusing to blink as he peeled his shirt off and revealed his perfect torso. Now that I had a visual for the planes my hands had already traversed so greedily, it wasn’t going to leave my mind anytime soon.
I started unbuckling his belt. He let me, a familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he said in a knowing tone.
I didn't trust myself to speak coherently, so I didn't even try to respond to that. Instead, I slipped my hands into his partially unfastened jeans and grabbed his cock through his boxers the way he had done to me. His gaze darkened slightly, the first hint of an organic response he had shown, and just like his approval had, it formed in instantaneous addiction.
He ground into me, pressing his lips to mine once more. Stroking him was a little harder with my arm pressed between us, but I managed. His cock was long and smooth, yet another aspect of him that was somehow even more perfect than my imagination.
Another foreign impulse came over me, matched by my mouth watering. I wanted to taste him. In the brief glimpses of passion I could access from my past life, I had always been with women, and I was pretty sure I had never actually touched a guy this way before—let alone blown one—but that didn't stop the urge from becoming insatiable. Maybe it was just an effect of the rut, but it had to at least be magnified by whatever it was I felt for him.
Obsession. Fixation. It was too intense, possessive, and twisted to be justifiably called love, or anything like it, but I wasn't sure I was capable of that kind of thing anyway. Not anymore.
Castor broke the kiss and pushed down on my chest. I reluctantly stopped stroking him as he pulled away and started tugging off his slacks. He got up to allow me to do the same, but as usual, he made even mundane tasks like undressing look elegant, while I was clumsy and crude. I stepped out of my boxers, unwilling to take my eyes off him as he stood before me, completely naked.
My gaze traveled down his body slowly. I wanted to imprint every inch of him in my mind's eye for later consumption. The look he was giving me as he stood there suggested he knew exactly what I was doing.
"Satisfied?" he asked dryly.
My gaze lingered on his cock, and I found it difficult to look away. Instead, I moved forward, kneeling on the edge of the bed and reaching out to put my hands on his hips, pulling him toward me. I lowered my head, and his hands slipped into my hair once more, but before I could take him into my mouth, he gripped my hair and tugged my head back up.
"That's not what this is about," he said, his voice cold and commanding, but not quite scolding.
I felt the sting of humiliation all the same, moving back to make room for him on the bed. "Right."
"Don't sulk," he said, his hands still in my hair. He tugged my head to the side and when his lips claimed my throat, all was forgotten.
"Castor," I moaned, letting my head fall back. He climbed on top of me again, kissing his way down my torso.
My breath hitched as he reached the base of my cock, which was already painfully stiff. He took me into his mouth as I had planned on doing to him, but the moment his full lips wrapped around the head of my cock, I realized that was yet another area where he would've outperformed me. Maybe it was for the best.
