Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 62 - Cuddlebug 2

Sebastien sat up, slow and steady. He regretted it instantly as the slight ache behind his eyes sledgehammered into the worst pain he'd ever endured. Blanket forgotten, he sat hunched over, gripping his head in a futile, childish effort to make it disappear. 

That would be the dehydration. 

Castell didn't bother with subtly. He joined Sebastien and rubbed his back while making reassuring sounds. Not words, but hums that didn't echo in his ears like words would have. The hums were soft and light, not a dagger. A minute or two passed, and the drums continued to rumble in his head and against his eyes. 

Drink

A glass of water pressed to his lips. He lowered a hand to take it, but Castell refused to give up his grip. The order to drink remains loud and unsaid between them. Was it a power move? Or was it that Sebastien was too shakey to be trusted not to spill it over himself? 

He drank the water.

"Good man," Castell said, his body heat hot and his scent sound as he pressed close to Sebastien. "You have put yourself in a bad state, haven't you? Burton will be disappointed in you. It won't save you from being put through your paces, but vulnerability is not the worst place to start putting the groundwork down."

The groundwork for what? The words refused to be said. "Yes, sir," Sebastien settled with, sensing Castell's desire to hear affirmation. 

"You can hear me," Castell smiled against Sebastien's skin, kissing his shoulder. "That's a good sign. You've been out of it for the last few days. We were starting to get worried. Your brats want updates, and High Priest Oliver expects us to travel back today."

"My apogolies, sir," Sebastien said. The water helped, but his mouth was dry, and his tongue tasted like sand. Castell said 'brats' fondly, his lips twitching. His risk paid off. His children hadn't suffered from his disobedience. They were far safer with the Hand than they were with him chasing after a trafficker gang. 

Is that how we are going to play it?

"Next time, you'll do better," Castell said, pushing Sebastien to lie down again. He let some space form between them, the gap cold without his heat. "Sleep. We have a few hours before we need to move."

Sebastien didn't fight being pushed down. He did turn over, attempting to give himself some modesty as Castell's eyes roamed over his muscles and more. A hand rubbed down his side before resting on his hip and tapping idly. He could feel the swirl of Castell's fingertips and the hum of his blood as his mind attuned to every action and breath Castell took. Sebastien broke the law and needed to submit to Castell's word and law—ideally while not getting himself into more trouble by existing. 

"You like to disappoint me." 

Failure gripped Sebastien's chest. There'd been a test. He'd failed. Fuck.

A blanket fell on him. Castell tucked it over him and smoothed the fabric down before a second blanket landed, covering them both. 

"You're naked because you threw up on the clothes we had your size," Castell said, annoyed. "We decided to leave that way after the third change. You can have clothes in the morning when I know you're not going four for four. You kicked the blanket off yourself. If I wanted to manhandle you, I could and would. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." He failed too many tests. Not making dark assumptions without all the information counted as one. "Sorry, sir."

"You're ill. It's expected. Next time, you'll do better. Now sleep."

He tried to. It was a little hard with Castell's searing heat and air of annoyance floating above them. Anyone else would have died for this. Which item on Sebastien's list demanded the death sentence could be debated. He'd been an enemy Spymaster. Not many of his sides lived, but a telepath was too valuable to put down. He failed to pass Castell's tests. That wasn't a death sentence, but Castell demanded the best, and few were trusted with failure. If he wanted to live outside of a cage, he needed to start passing tests.