He should be thankful he wasn't ordered onto the desk this time, considering a lap is far more comfortable than being jabbed with pens and twisted against hard, cold mahogany.

But instead Ghinius is even more unsettled than normal about this "business meeting" (not that these things are pleasant normally). He feels more anxiety, no, panic build in his chest with every nip and tease of the man facing him. The man who seems to be taking particular pleasure in how uncomfortable this situation is for his commissioned officer turned personal fucktoy. The man whom Ghinius is banking his greatest hope of him and his sister ever having any genuine respect from there peers again on.

Fingers trace down every too-prominent rib and snake to his spine, edging ever close to his backside but not yet finalizing their place. Ghinius wishes he'd just get on with it. He's decided to tease him more than usual today, and the Sakhalin heir wonders what he'd done to deserve such torture. The longer the encounter takes, the longer Ghinius will be stuck in the shower once he gets home. Some part of him think Giren realizes this, and does this because he enjoys knowing he can make his toy do such interesting things. That his toy despises doing this so much yet never hesitates an offer to give up his body in exchange for a research grant or further boost of his technically meaningless rank. Like the doll of a child, content to be pulled and undressed and playing with it however he sees fit because any attention is better than being alone and forgotten.

Ghinius fixes his gaze on the latest batch of paperwork on the desk, trying to focus on that to get his mind off the fingers preparing to invade his insides. This is why he's doing this, this makes it all worth it. No, no, that's still bringing him back to the situation. Anything, anything at all. He needs to mentally get as far away from this wretched office as he can. He thinks of his sister's warm smile, any happy memories that float to the surface of his consciousness, anything, please-

"Look at me, Sakhalin,"

A hand gently pulls him by the chin to face the Zabi prince. Ghinius noticeably shudders as all the progress he's made on mentally escaping shatters. Blue eyes reluctantly meet cold, black pupils.

"You're quite tense today. I'm a bit surprised, since I'm going out of my way to be gentle. Is something wrong?" He glares with a smirk, knowing damn well what he's doing to his toy.

Ghinius would prefer to be roughly thrown to the floor or slammed into a desk. Bruises and yanked hair were less painful than an agonizing mockery of genuine affection. If observed by someone who wasn't wiser, the situation at hand would look like sensual lovemaking. But this wasn't, this was anything but. Ghinius has never been made love to, and Giren hadn't made love to anything but his own ego. On some level, Ghinius desperately wants to pretend this is someone who actually loves him trying to make *him* feel good, someone who'll always be there for him and sees past the ugliness of the visible ribs, sunken eyes, and sullied past. But this is his employer. Not a lover, not even a friend really. A man whom he's making a business deal with and nothing more.

A stifled cry escapes the scientist's lips as cold, lubricated fingers slowly slides into him. This isn't something he's a stranger to by any means, but the sensation is still enough to make him bite his lip in a desperate attempt to silence the pitiful noises his body insists on making.

His eyes close, and his mind tries again to focus on Aina and how happy she'll be when this all is finally over.

Fingers are eventually replaced by something significantly larger, and Ghinius can't help but cry and moan and writhe until the "meeting" is finally finished.

He doesn't come out of the shower until the water starts to turn cold and Aina's knocking at his door, telling him that he's an hour late for a cocktail of pills. He puts on a smile to greet her and thanks her as he hastily swallows down the drugs that ensure his existence, claiming his body was particularly achy and that's why he'd been showering for so long. He has the feeling she knows he's lying, but he'll lie about this for as long as he can. It's easier for the both of them that way. If he's lucky, she'll never press the issue and by the time the final reward comes the memories of her brother's meetings with the commandant and his odd behavior afterwards will be distant and irrelevant.

This is a small inconvenience in his quest for greatness.

This is his duty to her.

This is his duty to Zeon.