Day time... Night time!

"Is there a reason why you want me to wear a blindfold?" Xerxes asked, glancing between his bonded and the thin piece of fabric, a small frown appearing on his face. 

"You mentioned that you wanted to explore more of what it was I did for a living in a more private setting." His bonded pointed out, an amused smile appearing on her face. "Do you remember the conversations we had about soft and hard boundaries, as well as safe words and motions, along with both of ours sexual experiences, what each of us like and dislike?" 

"Yes, I remember those conversations. They started out very awkward, but I am glad that we had them, as it meant that I was able to better understand what it is that you enjoy most in bed." Xerxes answered, feeling his face warm as he shifts a little on the couch that the two of them were sitting on currently. 

Then trust me. Blindfolds are one of the things that can be used during play time. You mentioned that you wanted to explore things slowly, as well as an interest in being bound, and a blindfold like this is one of the lightest forms of bondage." She explained patiently. "But if you don't feel up to trying on the blindfold now, I understand and we can do something else. It doesn't have to be sexual or sensual if you're not up to that as well."

Xerxes nodded, staring at the deceptively flimsy piece of fabric. A mixture of excitement and nervousness ran through him, and he refused to let the shiver go through his body. "Thank you, my love. I think... I think I will try it." He picked it up, humming a little at how surprisingly heavy it was, closing his eyes as he tied the ties behind his head. The light pressure wasn't unpleasant, the grey knight silently supposed. "... Now what?"

“How do you feel?” His bonded prompts him, her voice warm and close and comforting. He can hear her heart beating in her chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing. 

It’s soothing, for all he could easily remove the blindfold - with his psychic powers if he felt like being dramatic about it. “…. Fine,  I think? I am not feeling uncomfortable, if that is what you are asking. The fabric does not press too much against my eyes, nor is the fabric uncomfortable.” Xerxes was an Astartes, and more than that, he was a Grey Knight. He was trained to withstand many horrors and miseries. This was just a little bit… Strange? But not in a bad way. 

“Alright, do you feel ready for the next step? Or do you want to stay like this, with the both of us on the couch, sitting near one another?” His bonded asks, her voice calm and patient. Her heart beating ticks up a little in what he can sense  is anticipation and curiosity. 

He swallows hard for a couple of moments, knowing that he had agreed to follow her lead, when the blindfold went on. That he would trust that she would guide him around their home without hesitation or uncertainty. Xerxes trusts her. He knows he does. Does he want to allow himself to trust her with his dignity? They are alone, and - 

 A frisson of want slides down his side and pools in his lower stomach. 

Xerxes has his answer. He can feel his face warming with a blush as he answers “I am ready f or the next step, and I promise to speak up if I feel like I need a break, or for things to stop.”

“Good, you’re doing very good so far. I know it’s difficult to give up control, even if you said that you’d be willing to try.” She purrs, reaching out and cupping his face with one of her hands, and leaning in close.

Xerxes can smell her close, and the fact that he can’t precisely predict when or where she’ll touch him sends another shiver of excitement through him. The praise makes his cock twitch. He wants to be good for her, so, so desperately. “I am good?” He echoes, feeling a little bit foolish for asking. He’s startled by how much he enjoys the praise, how much he wants more. He had promised to ask her for what he wanted, no matter how silly he felt it might be.

She is smiling. He can tell that she is, from the warmth of her happiness, and the sweetness in her voice as she answers “Yes, you are my good,  handsome knight. You’ve earned yourself a kiss.” She leans in. 

Closer.

Her lips are warm and soft against his.

He answers her kiss eagerly, one of his hands slowly coming up to wrap around her waist.

She lets him with a hum. 

He lets her go, when she stops kissing him, a pleasant amount of time later. She draws away, and he misses her warmth. 

Her hand is still in one of his, and she asks, no instructs him. “Alright, my handsome knight. Time to stand up and take a guided tour of our home.” 

He nods, and answers “I am ready to follow you and lay my trust at your feet, my lady.” Xerxes stands a moment later, gently squeezing her hand in his once, a silent affirmation that he is ready to continue.

“Good, and I will show you that your trust in me is not misplaced, my love. Take one half step forwards, and then two on the side I tap now.” She instructs him, tapping him on his left side. 

She feels like a fool... running out of ammunition to the point that she couldn't even kill herself and she could hear those talons on the metal coming to find her. She holds her rosary tightly praying for the Emperor to strike her dead or heal her leg. She pauses in her prayers as she can hear the metallic clink of an incense burner swinging back and forth. She's been marked by the beast that stalks after her... unknown she was made to be prey for a fallen angel. The old Chaplain helmet the skull face replaced the old mangled thing that was what was left of his face. Armor and flesh fuse as one and yet the body suit is exposed from what she can see. His chest fully exposed revealing corded and grown transhuman muscles all the way down to his belly button... the shape of a heart that reveals his flesh. Between his legs she is drawn to the thinly covered cock, aroused and pressing upon the material of the undersuit. His arms and legs seemed to be covered in such strange looking armor that is makes it all look seamless between flesh and armor. His legs digigraded and ending in talons. Behind him swings a long tail that ends in a split tail tip and seems to mimic a flogging instrument that strikes his own back... the exposed flesh is in the shape of an iron cross. This fallen son of Dorn... a follower of blessed Sigismund fell to the temptations of the sweet flesh.

She's as quiet as a mouse as she is curled so inward on herself and yet she cannot look away but he turns as if not seeing the quivering thing huddled in the shadow taking a few steps before turning and sprinting right at her. She points the empty gun at her chin pulling the trigger hard as if hoping bullets would manifest. But none do as the heavy weight of the beast over her is suffocating. She's covered her face as she screams trying to fold in on herself as she waits and waits for the horrors to begin.

"Yes that's it little one... take a nice deep breath" He speaks so sweetly as his Musk is already poisoning her mind. He was like a carnivorous plant made perfectly to attract his preferred prey and they came to him crawling and begging for his attention... his affection. Her hand bleeds as she grips the metal aquilia tightly in her fist , heart beating so fast she might die of fright. But she inhales his musk deeply and that fear slows down... she just looks at him stunned. "Good... good" He says cupping her face as she flinches as if fighting his influence. Unfortunately for the Imperium they don't make many willful things and she might have been something if she had gotten away from his gaze. "Oh little one... you're hurt." He says taking her hand and slowly bending away the fingers clutching- She pulls her hand back the fear has returned.

Perturabo “Babies are assembled in batches like munitions, civilians simply lack quality control.”

Perturabo stops walking and turns around. “Repeat that.” The Astartes repeats and Perturabo just stares with the face of a man discovering a structural flaw in a bridge he personally designed. “You believe the human species is manufactured like artillery shells?” The Astartes hesitates. “...With less reliability, my lord.” Perturabo closes his eyes and you can hear one of his remaining hopes die. He gives the most brutally efficient reproductive biology lesson in Imperial history complete with diagrams, mechanical analogies and insults. “If I ever hear you explain biology through siege logistics again I will assign you to inventory every bolt in the fleet.” The primarch concludes. The younger Astartes now understands.

Jaghatai “Babies come from speed, when two people ride fast enough beneath the open sky, the wind chooses.”

Jaghatai hears this and laughs immediately. “That is the stupidest thing I have heard this century.” The older Astartes looks embarrassed and the younger one looks confused. “Listen, life is stranger and far less aerodynamic than that.”

He explains it plainly and with surprising gentleness but keeps laughing every time he remembers ‘the wind chooses’. For the next several months the entire brotherhood uses the phrase ‘the wind chooses’ whenever someone announces a birth on a compliant world.

Russ “Babies come from drinking enough mead and winning a wrestling match against fate.”

Russ nods slowly and for one horrifying moment everyone thinks he agrees until he speaks. “That is wrong, but not as wrong as it should be.” He walks over and claps the older warrior's back hard enough to almost crack the armor. “You’ve got the spirit, pup, but you’ve missed several important steps.” “Does wrestling occur?” The younger astartes asks. Russ thinks about it. “Sometimes.” A wolf priest immediately materialize from nowhere. “My lord, please allow me.” Russ is removed from the conversation before he can make it worse. Later he hosts a feast where he tells a long extremely inappropriate Fenrisian version of the facts of life involving wolves, storms, endurance and respecting women because otherwise they will kill you and deserve to. The younger Astartes learns something but nobody is sure of what exactly.

Dorn “Babies are grown when a household reaches sufficient structural stability.”

Dorn hears that and looks at the astartes with the expression of a fortress wall being disappointed. “No.” “No, my lord?” The Astartes straightens. “No.” The younger astartes waits for more and Dorn realizes with visible pain that more is required so he explains reproduction with the exact tone he would use to describe masonry, it’s terrifyingly practical with out unembellished or euphemisms despite the entire squad wishing there had been euphemisms.

“Don't invent civic infrastructure theories about childbirth again.” “Yes, my lord.” “Also households do benefit from stability.” Dorn adds. “But that is unrelated to conception.”

Konrad Curze “Babies come from nightmares, if enough people are afraid in one place a small human appears to continue the suffering.”

Curze hears that and makes a weird sound that may be laughter. “Wrong.” He leans in. “But thematically… interesting.” The younger Astartes is now more confused and significantly more traumatized, Sevatar who has been standing nearby ends up explaining the basics in the driest possible tone while Curze occasionally interrupts from the shadows with comments like “and then they are born screaming.”

Sanguinius “Babies are made when two souls love each other so much that the Emperor sends them a tiny servant.”

Sanguinius hears this and looks physically pained. “My son, that is… very sweet.” He approaches gently and places a hand on his shoulder. “And almost entirely incorrect. Love can be involved, often, one hopes it is but there is also nature at work.”

He explains it kindly and with enough delicacy that nobody feels mocked and with enough accuracy that the sanguinary priests silently nod in approval. The younger Astartes understands, the older one is embarrassed but not crushed. Sanguinius later asks the Chaplains whether perhaps the legion’s education has been a little too focused on swordsmanship and blood rites.

Ferrus “Babies are manufactured through inferior organic replication, the flesh copies itself because it lacks proper modularity.”

Ferrus stops hammering and slowly sets down the tool. “You are technically approaching a concept and somehow still failing. The flesh is weak, yes, but it isn’t a forge template.” He explains reproduction in blunt practical terms using enough biological detail to be correct and enough mechanical comparison to keep them from panicking.

“You won’t teach again until you understand the difference between organic process and manufacturing.” “Yes, father.” “And don't call infants unfinished components, civilians dislike that.” The Iron Hands quietly amend several educational scrolls.

Angron “Babies come from blood, enough blood spills and eventually life crawls out of it.”

Angron hears and everything stops, the older Astartes suddenly realizes he has chosen the worst possible primarch to say this near.

“No.” Angron turns, jaw tight. “That is what monsters tell themselves when they only know how to make corpses. People are born from bodies, women and from pain, yes, but not that kind, it isn’t a slaughter. Don’t make life sound like one of our battlefields.” Then he walks away before anyone can see too much on his face.

Guilliman “Babies are issued by local family governance after a successful marriage petition and population sustainability review.”

Guilliman hears this, his face is calm but his soul nearly left his body. “...Issued?” “Yes, my lord, by civic authority.” Guilliman blinks very slowly. “I have failed you.” “No, my lord!” The Astartes immediately panics. “Yes, clearly. Somewhere in your education a catastrophic omission occurred and now you believe municipal paperwork is reproductive.” “It is not?” The younger astartes whispers and Guilliman visibly ages.

He organizes an emergency curriculum reform within six hours. The original Astartes isn’t punished but he is cited anonymously in the introduction as ‘a demonstrated educational failure.’

Mortarion “Babies grow from spores in damp places, that’s why civilians keep their houses warm.”

Mortarion hears that and for one long moment he stays in silence. “No.” The Astartes waits. “And never say that again.” Mortarion continues. “But my lord, don’t they grow?” Mortarion looks like he has been stabbed by stupidity. “Not like fungus.” “But there is an incubation-” “Stop helping.” He gives a short and factual explanation stripped of romance, mystery and any possible joy, he makes normal biology sound like a diagnosis. “Life is already unpleasant, don’t make it idiotic.” The Death Guard accept this as inspirational wisdom.

Magnus the Red “Babies are formed when two psychic signatures resonate and attract a soul fragment from the immaterium into a prepared vessel.”

Magnus slowly lowers his book, the statement is wrong but in a way that has wandered too close to several metaphysical arguments Magnus would absolutely like to have. “No, not precisely.” Magnus gives a lecture about reproductive biology, genetics, psychic resonance and the philosophical question of when consciousness enters matter. The younger Astartes looks increasingly haunted, the older one tries to take notes and gives up after the phrase ‘ontological threshold’.

After two hours, Magnus concludes. “So, in summary, you were wrong.” “Where do babies come from then?” Magnus smiles. “Let us begin again.”

Horus “Babies happen when a great leader inspires a population hard enough.”

Horus hears this and nearly chokes on his drink. “What?” “Because morale increases birth rates, my lord.” The Astartes smiles proudly. This is the kind of wrong that has a tiny piece of political truth inside it, making it vastly more annoying.

Horus laughs first until he sees that the younger astartes genuinely believes it. “Oh. You’re serious.” He puts an arm around both of them like a beloved warlord about to deliver the most uncomfortable fireside chat of their lives. “Right. We are fixing this before you embarrass me in front of a remembrancer.” Horus explains it plainly, with charisma, humor and exactly enough vulgarity that they will remember it forever, by the end the squad is informed and slightly traumatized.

Lorgar “Babies are granted when faith pleases the divine and a household becomes worthy of receiving a soul.”

Lorgar hears this and his eyes shine, that answer is wrong but it’s spiritually marketable. He interrupts only because he remembered he is supposed to be responsible. “My son… there is beauty in what you said but we mustn’t confuse metaphor with mechanism.” He then gives a lecture that is half biology and half sermon, the younger Astartes leaves understanding the basic reproductive process and also believing childbirth is a sacred ritual written in flesh. The older one is gently praised for seeking meaning but corrected for being factually disastrous.

Vulkan “Babies are made when a family loves each other so much that they build one together, like a small forge project.”

Vulkan hears that and his face does the thing where he is trying very hard not to laugh because the answer is wrong but also extremely adorable. “That isn’t how it works, my son, but I understand why you said it.” He explains with warmth, patience and absolutely no shame. The younger Astartes asks many questions and Vulkan answers all of them. “So they aren’t built?” The older Astartes asks. Vulkan pats his shoulder. “No but they are raised, that’s the building part.”

Corvus Corax “Babies emerge from silence when loneliness becomes too heavy.”

Corax hears this from the shadows and remains silent for so long that both Astartes assume they are safe until a voice comes from behind them. “That was poetry pretending to be information, don’t do that.” Corax steps forward and the older Astartes almost jumps out of his armor. “But it sounded meaningful, my lord.” The younger Astartes says.

Corax sighs and explains the truth quietly and directly, though with a melancholy edge that makes the whole thing sound like a tragic folk story. “Loneliness may lead people to seek love and love may lead to children but babies don’t condense out of sorrow… Usually.” The Raven Guard are left unsure whether that final part was a joke.

Alpharius Omegon “Babies are created when two adults exchange classified genetic intelligence through a covert biological operation.”

Alpharius is nearby or Omegon or both. “That isn’t entirely inaccurate.” He says “It is also a terrible explanation.” The other twin speaks as he appears from absolutely nowhere. “Was I wrong?” The older Astartes looks between them. “Yes.” “No.” “Operationally.” “Pedagogically.” The younger Astartes is now more confused than before. The twins proceed to explain reproduction using intelligence terminology, espionage metaphors, at least three false examples, one true example disguised as a lie and a diagram that self-destructs after viewing.

"I just... I've never felt this weak and useless before. At least, not that I can remember." Ash'val confesses, shifting a little in his seat, a small frown appearing on his face as he stares down at his hands, unwilling to force himself to look at the chaplain he was speaking to.

Lykos thought carefully for a couple of moments, picking his words with care and concern for the other, and out of genuine sentiment "I see. Has anyone made comments to that effect? Or is this a worry that you feel that because you are unable to perform all of the duties you were performing before, that you are now useless? Not that you are useless, and nor is it a sin to not be able to be as capable as other people. "

"No, no one's said anything to me about the fact that though the curse has been broken, my physical capabilities are much diminished... Opal and my brothers have been very supportive and understanding as I struggle to try and recover." The Salamander sighed, shaking his head a little. "It's just... I am an astartes. I truly do feel as if I should be recovering faster than this." 

Hmm, his patient seemed to be fixated on what he can't do, rather than what he can do. What he's managed to overcome. Time to change tactics "Ash'val, old friend... Do you remember what the psychic healers told you, when they discovered the nature of the curse that you'd been placed under? What the chaos sorcerers had warned you might happen, even if the curse was successfully broken?"

"... Darsas had been survived that I had lived as long as I did under the curse. I've never seen him move that quickly, nor take command of a room so wholly and decisively before." Ash'val admitted, nodding slightly "They agreed that it was near-miraculous that I live at all, much less conscious and able to speak and move to any degree at all."

"Precisely. And what was the prognosis you'd been given, after surviving the breaking of the curse?" Lykos pressed, hoping that Ash'val reminding himself of the facts would help drive home that the other was doing a lot better. Even from last week, Ash'val was moving with more surety, speaking more clearly, and had the ability to focus much better than before. 

"That... I was likely to be bed-bound for years, if not permanently, even if I followed the physical recovery program that the Apothecaries had put together for me." Ash'val admitted, the frown on his face easing a little. He looked at his hands, which had been clasped in his lap. 

"And how have you been fairing with the PT and OT you've been doing?" Lykos pressed, knowing the answer to this, but wanting the Salamander to say it out loud.

"I've progressed from doing bed exercises to being able to sit up and do wall-exercises while supervised for short periods of time, in the past three months." Ash'val answered, his shoulders relaxing a little. He had stepped aside as the commander of Stoneflame base while he was in recovery, as he knew that he could not perform all of the duties, though he was helping with the administrative side of things. "And the apothecary overseeing my physical therapy has stated that he is willing to let me try to start attempting to walk again while being monitored and with assistance by the end of this month, should I continue to show signs of improvement."

"Precisely. And even if this is where your healing plateaus... You're still you, old friend. Recovery is not a linear process, and you have loved ones willing and able to support you." Lykos murmurs, voice warm and full of care. 

Ash'val took in a deep breath, before letting it out again after a few moments, nodding. A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. HIs bonded, Opal, had said much the same, but... Part of him was worried that she might find him too much to deal with and leave. Not that she had shown any indications of doing that, but he was not immune to the deep seated worry that many Astartes had that should they no longer be useful, that he would be discarded and left behind. "You're right, of course. This time and place allows for mercy that our home time period can ill-afford." He probably would have been put in a dreadnaught coffin, if he hadn't died to the curse that had tried to kill him, mind, body and soul. It's possible that he had survived in part because of the fact that he had been on M3 Terra, where the warp was much harder to access and use. 

Lykos nods, reaching out and gently patting Ash'val on the shoulder "Good, I am glad that you know this. Is there anything else that you would like to discuss?" He knew that they had another ten minutes or so, before the end of the session. While he would like to take as much time as each of his patients needed, he was fully booked, and had been for weeks. His next patient was due to start in fifteen minutes, but he did try not to rush his patients who sought solace and healing emotionally. 

Ash'val thought about the question seriously for several moments before he shook his head "No, I... I think I want to go through those breathing exercises again. They've been very helpful when I feel..." He swallowed hard, pushing himself to confess this "Overwhelmed, or that the despair that I try to fight against is clawing more deeply into my hearts. And I would like you to guide me through the first set."

"Beloved! I am in utter agony... Please, can you help me with this terrible curse that has afflicted me?" Tevos begs, his eyes - all nine of them - wide and pleading. Three on his face, one on each palm of his hands, two on his chest and two on his back. All of them were watery with tears and scrunched in utter frustration. "Please... Please help me, I promise to heed your warnings better!"

"... You touched the plant that I told you to leave alone, didn't you?" You ask, rubbing your eyes with one hand. "I told you, leaves of three, let it be. And what did you say?"

He squirmed a little, a flustered and embarrassed blush appearing on his face "That I am easily able to handle any minor curses that might occur on this world, and that such superstitions hold no weight for me." 

"Uh-huh. And when I described to you what poison ivy looks like and to avoid it if you didn't want to deal with horrible itching and blisters for weeks at a time, what did you say?" You continued, not in the least bit willing to let him get away from learning his lesson. You did - reluctantly - care for this ridiculous, pompous, feathered bastard, but he really did need to learn to listen to your warnings when it came to knowledge you had about the dangers of this world.

Tevos had implied that he was nearly indestructible, in or out of his armor. Poison ivy was an itchy disaster for even the toughest beings. Except for perhaps the living biohazards that were the smelliest of the astartes, but even then, you'd warn them away from it, or at least give them a warning about what the plant might do to them.  Tevos pouted "That such a mundane plant had no chance at negatively affecting me, especially as much as you were warning it could."

"Uh huh. How's that working out for you now?" You press, waiting for him to crack and apologize, or at least admit that you were right and he was wrong. He had a terrible habit of not admitting when he was wrong, even when it was blatantly obvious to everyone around him that was true. Apparently that was a common trait among Thousand Sons, if the forums you went on were any indication. 

"Awful! I freely admit that I should have listened to your warning, and that I had made an error in judgment. I promise to better listen to your warnings in the future." The thousand son pouted. He let the admission linger in the air for a second or two before saying "Please tell me you know how to treat or cure this malady?"

"See... Here's the thing. You just kind of have to wait it out, though it can help if you've immediately had contact with poison ivy or any of it's cousins, is to immediately wash the area, as the thing that makes you itchy is the oil that is in every part of the plant." You explain, voice softening a little "There are ways to reduce the itching and some of the pain from the blisters, but mostly it just takes time and patience to have it clear up. I'll go get the oatmeal."

"... What do grains have anything to do with my suffering? You know well that I do not care for porridge." Tevos asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

You grab a stick off the ground of you garden and bonk him in the forehead with it "The cold oatmeal compress will help. The temperature reduction will help constrict your blood vessels, reducing the itching and swelling, and something about oatmeal combats the oils, somehow. I'm sure there is a scientific explanation as to how it works, but I don't know it. I'll get the hose and the tub."

"... I'm not going to be bathing in the indoor tub?" Tevos whines "Why?"

"Because I don't want poison ivy oil in my nice bathtub, is why! You get the metal tub to wash the dogs off, and once we're done with the oatmeal soak you're gonna put the oatmeal into the compost pile, and carefully wipe every surface of the tub down with this spray, so that it doesn't transfer to their fur and get me, or get you again." You answer sharply, bonking him on the head with the stick again. For an alleged master of arcane and forbidden lore, he had absolutely no common sense whatsoever. 

"Yes my love. Thank you for your care." Tevos grumbles, still pouting at you as he grabs the large metal tub, easing his legs into the tub "I am guessing I don't want to try to fold myself all the way into the tub?"

"Not unless you want to have the rash spread everywhere you've still got skin. Also, don't eat poison ivy or it's cousins. It'll cause harm to the mucous membranes, and smoking it can cause fatal reactions in your lungs." You warn him. 

"Why would anyone want to smoke that? Or eat it, for that matter?" Tevos asks, mildly alarmed as you bring the hose over and start filling the tub. 

"I don't know. The leaves vaguely look like a plant called marijuana, which gives someone a very mellow kind of high. Or it sends them into a paranoid spiral, one of the two. Also induces hunger and enhances sensory input." You answer with a shrug "Also some people will try to eat or smoke anything."

"I see. Well, I will keep that in mind and pass that along to some of my more... Adventurous brothers. I wonder if this would affect plgue marines or not..." Tevos remarked, a curious expression appearing on his face. The kind that means nothing good for anyone he deems to be  a test subject in a hundred square miles. 

You bonk him with the stick again and say "Aren't you on probation because of the last little test you ran on several cousins of yours without permission? Aren't they going to put you in Jail if you do some fucked shit again?" You head off into the kitchen, to the sounds of Tevos protesting an innocence you know he does not have. 

You turn the water spigot off and fish out the end of the hose, setting it down on the grass to let it drain properly, opening the lid to the oatmeal tube, and pouring it in, until the consistency should be right. "Mix the oats and the water togeter with your feet. Once the oatmeal hydrates and solidifies, stay there for about twenty minutes or so, then remove and rinse. It should help the itching for a little while. at least."

"Thank you, beloved." Tevos responds, doing as you asked him to, his shoulders slowly starting to relaxed "I am already starting to feel better, thank you."