materthorn

Rogal Dorn was not a nervous man by principle. As a Primarch his capacity for feelings of fear and anxiety were nearly nonexistant and as iron-willed Primarch of the seventh legion he wouldn't have bothered with such feelings anyway. Nonetheless, he found himself pacing before his desk in what looked suspciously like apprehension.

The sound of his chamber's doors opening snapped him to attention, hands drawn behind his back in a perfect parade rest. Sigismund closed the door behind him softly and nodded to his Primarch. "My lord."

"Captain," Dorn returned with an ease that he did not feel. "Your company's performance during this campaign was exemplary. As was your leadership of them," he added. Usually much more direct, Dorn told himself that he was simply working up to the topic at hand. Their last...intimate meeting had not escaped his thoughts since it happened and he had been waiting for the appropriate time to re-engage his First Captain. Neither so soon as to seem desperate nor so long as to allow doubt to worry Sigismund. The end of this latest effort of planetary compliance seemed a perfect time. But communicating his want to the astartes seemed to be more complicated than he imagined it would be.

"Thank you my lord," Sigismund responded. A barely-there smile played at his lips and Dorn knew that Sigismund understood why he had called him to his chambers. He was going to make Dorn say it, however.

Dorn said nothing and for a long moment the two stared at each other in motionless silence.

Finally, Dorn's shoulders set with resolve. "I would like to show you how much I appreciate your efforts as First Captain."

At this Sigismund's face broke into a full grin. His golden hair shifted across his forehead and his eyes seemed to shine at Dorn. He was radiant.

A blush touched his cheeks and his gaze pulled away from Dorn's for only a moment before returning. "I would be more than honored to receive your affections my lord Primarch. And I feel I should also let you know that," Sigismund paused with embarassment, "I've been practicing." He paused again. "For you I mean."

Dorn's expression was unreadable, his shoulders still rigid, his eyes fixed on Sigismund.

"After last time that is, my lord." He was rambling now. "*Deeply* enjoyable though it was," he added with emphasis.

"Practicing," Dorn repeated flatly.

He watched Sigismund impassively for a long moment. When he finally spoke again his voice was strained. "Show me."

Sigismund grinned broadly and made to approach Dorn's enormous bed, but Dorn stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait." He leaned to kiss Sigismund suddenly and deeply, relaxing only once his First Captain was sighing into his mouth.

"I would be remiss not to greet you properly," Dorn whispered between them.

"My lord," Sigismund sighed, the title a prayer on his lips. He kissed Dorn again, letting his tongue slip into the Primarch's mouth, tasting him.

Dorn was the first to break the kiss. He motioned toward the bed and Sigismund instantly began stripping himself. "Let me watch you," Dorn said.

Dorn stood at the foot of the bed, still fully clothed while Sigismund arranged himself on his back. He hoisted his knees closer to his chest, exposing himself to Dorn. Sigismund shoved three fingers in his own mouth and made a point of coating them in drool. Then he stretched his arm between his legs and circled the pad of one finger around his asshole. Dorn was watching the motion of his First Captain's fingers with uninterrupted focus, his hands flat at his sides. Sigismund watched Dorn, unreadable and immobile, but nonetheless transfixed on Sigismund's self-penetration. He decided to make it worth his Primarch's while.

Sigismund pushed his knees tighter to his chest, folding himself nearly in half. The hand between his legs he used to begin fucking himself with a single thick digit. He moaned loudly and rocked his hips to ride his finger in to the knuckle. Then he withdrew it and circled his hole with two fingers instead, teasing and prodding at the tight ring of muscle. He arched his back as he sank them into himself, fucking himself on them feverishly. "My lord," he gasped and saw Dorn subtly adjust himself, giving his cock a quick squeeze through his slacks as he did so. Sigismund's smirk was all triumph. But it still wasn't what he was looking for.

Finally Sigismund pressed all three fingers inside, his hole stretching beautifully to accomodate the intrusion. He pushed them in and out experimentally, catching the pads of his fingers on his ring and scissoring his fingers as wide as possible. Sigismund groaned and writhed with every touch doing his best to oversell his own pleasure. "I need you," he breathed desperately. "My lord." He sank onto his fingers in a harsh rhythm, his cock still untouched, his other hand fisted in Dorn's sheets. "Rogal," he gasped as he pushed them home inside himself and Dorn snapped.

The Primarch moved impossibly fast, too quick for Sigismund to fully register. One moment he was watching Sigismund stretch himself on his fingers, practically shaking with restraint and the next he was on Sigismund whose hands were now pinned roughly above his head. Sigismund groaned at the sudden loss of his fingers and at the speed with which Dorn subdued him. He loved the reminder that even as an Astartes he was no match for a Primarch's strength and speed. If Dorn didn't take care hurting him would be easy, but Sigismund had no worry. There was pure trust between them, complete understanding.

Dorn's mouth met his in a violent clash and his lipes were forced open by the Primarch's insistent tongue. He lapped wildly inside Sigismund's mouth, tasting every part of him. For a moment Sigismund was grateful for the second set of lungs that kept him from suffocating in his Primarch's kiss. Though it wouldn't be the worst way to die he decided.

Despite the onslaught of Dorn's kisses, Sigismund recovered enough to pull ineffectually at his lord's clothing. He felt Dorn smile against his mouth before he leaned back and finally stripped himself nude.

Even with his eidetic memory Sigismund was never any less affected by the sight of his lord, strong and sculpted as if from stone. His skin was light and perfectly smooth due to his advanced healing. His hair was ice white and cut short across his chest, down the length of his hardened stomach, and at the base of his enormous prick, the color so light that he almost appeared shaved even when he wasn't. Sigismund roved his eyes up and down the gorgeous expanse of Dorn with a sigh. "Please," he said at last.

Dorn acquiesced without a word, resuming his place over Sigismund's body. Sigismund reached for him and Dorn stopped him, his hands gripping Sigismund's wrists and sliding his hands up until their fingers entertwined loosely. Dorn leveled Sigismund with a look and spoke in the same tone reserved for issuing commands. "You will tell me the moment you become uncomfortable or if there is any pain at all. I will not hurt you for my own selfish pleasure."

Dorn's earnestness brought a blush to Sigismund's cheeks. "Do you forget that I receive pleasure too, my lord? You will not hurt me. And I will make certain that you hear how very uninjured I am."

A corner of Dorn's lips quirked up and he kissed Sigismund indulgently, releasing his hands. From a bedside table he retrieved a small, amber-dark bottle and poured a generous amount in his right hand, working the viscous liquid on his fingers. He stroked along his length until it shined with slick. Sigismund lifted his legs back into their previous position. "How yould you like me, Lord Dorn?"

Dorn ran the pads of his fingers along Sigismund's hole and watched as his First Captain shuddered at the touch. "Is this comfortable? I would like to see your face," Dorn answered. Sigismund nodded, the color back in his cheeks.

At his assent Dorn wasted no time, shoving a finger in Sigismund quickly. Sigismund gasped, his lord's fingers significantly larger than his own, and gasped a second shallow breath when one finger instantly became two. Dorn watched his reaction carefully but Sigismund could only close his eyes in abandon and drink in gulps of air. When Dorn added a third finger and began to move and flex them inside, Sigismund's back arched like a bow, his hips driving Dorn's fingers even deeper. Sigismund fucked himself on his Primarch's fingers, rocking his hips up and down with long passionate strokes, riding Dorn's fingers from tip to knuckle.

Dorn watched Sigismund entranced, his face was squeezed in ecstasy, his mouth panting hotly, sweat sticking golden curls of hair to his forehead. Dorn glanced at the place where they were joined, Sigismund taking his pleasure wantonly from Dorn's own fingers which stretched the swollen ring of Sigismund's asshole beautifully. His Captain's prick bobbed between his legs, lewdly slapping against his hardened stomach ocassionally.

"May I?" Dorn asked finally, pressing his hips to Sigismunds, their cocks sliding against one another, slick with lube and want.

"Yes," Sigismund rasped desperately. "Yes."

Dorn pressed a hand to Sigismund's thigh, nearly engulfing it easily. His other hand he used to line his prick up with Sigismund's now empty and loosened asshole. He pushed the tip of his cock inside and both men moaned, breathless as though the air was punched out of them both at once. Even with their joint preparation, the fit was too tight. Sigismund strained at the burn, delicious though it was. He glanced between them at the many girthy inches left of Dorn's prick still left unsheathed and felt panic bloom in his chest. He wouldn't fit. He *couldn't* fit. Sigismund was going to be split apart. He might as well have had a baseline's entire arm inside of him. Dorn noticed the squeeze as well, his eyes half-lidded, but still focused on the place where they were joined, the thick tip of him just inside his Captain.

Dorn's jaw was clenched, which gave his tone an angry quality. "Tell me," he said.

Sigismund shook his head violently. "It's perfect. You're perfect. Please don't stop," he begged.

Dorn shuddered and pushed his hips forward, his cock pressing another impossible inch inside of Sigismund. The heat inside of his captain was too much, he seemed to be gripped in a vice made of velvet, his cock squeezed so tightly he thought he might pass out from pleasure. He wanted so badly to drive his cock home inside of Sigismund and fuck him like a wild animal. It was this maddening want that kept him stone still instead, awaiting Sigismund's reassurance.

At Sigismund's nod, Dorn pushed forward more. Sigismund moaned and thrashed his arms in the sheets, his hips bucking and drawing further moans out of him. He continued nodding and so Dorn continued pushing as slowly as he could manage. Each new inch of his cock inside of Sigismund was a fresh wave of blinding pleasure. And Throne but didn't his First Captain look perfect like this. Made for his Primarch. His head was tossed back, his mouth moving silently, reciting litanies of "yes" and "my lord" and "please." The hard lines of his stomach and thighs were clenched, the muscles there accentuated beautifully as sweat began to form. And between his legs his prick, neglected but so full, slightly curved at the tip and weeping cloudy pearls of want onto his abdomen, and his hole. Dorn could hardly stand the sight. Sigismund's ass was swollen and puffy, reddened and slick with lube, and stretched to an unbelievable degree around Dorn's massive cock.

He moved experimentally, the gentlest of rocking motions, a shallow out and in. Sigismund's low baritone groan shot fresh pleasure through him and he worried sincerely for a moment how he was to continue on as Praetorian of Terra when his time could be spent here, buried inside of his First Captain's perfect ass.

Sigismund, meanwhile, was certain he was going mad. Dorn's soft, shallow movements were only drawing out his torture without offering release. He still hadn't fully relaxed around the impossible intrusion inside of him, but waiting any longer wasn't possible. He wanted and the wanting was enough. He jerked his hips up as forcefully as he could stand and slammed them down again in arhythmic desperation. Anything to force his Primarch to fuck him properly.

It was Dorn's turn to groan pathetically as Sigismund did his best to ride his cock despite his folded position beneath him. So desperate for him and just as needy as Dorn felt. He wanted to ask again, to make sure that Sigismund could take what he wanted to give, but he trusted his Captain completely. He would alert him to any displeasure.

With this in mind, Dorn pressed his hands harshly to the backs of Sigismund's thighs and held him in place, stilling him beneath him. Sigismund whined and pushed uselessly against his lord's grip. "Stay still," Dorn ground out. He took a moment to recover himself, desperate not to come from sheer anticipation.

Finally he lifted his hips experimentally and thrust into Sigismund with force. His First Captain's eyes rolled so far in his head that Dorn could see only white. "Yes, Rogal," Sigismund cried and Dorn groaned at the sound of his name called out in pleasure and began to set a rough pace, pistoning his cock into Sigismund's hole. It was unbearable. Sigismund was so tight around him that Dorn felt he was fucking a doll made only for his release. The thought excited him more than it should have.

"Tell me," Dorn started and Sigismund was already nodding before he finished. Dorn shook his head, continuing his thrusts and his request without interruption. "Tell me what you thought of as you *practiced*," he said and Sigismund nodded again with vigor.

"You. Always you. Your fingers inside of me, your tongue. Your, oh throne, your perfect immense cock, my lord," Sigismund babbled helplessly. "Lord Dorn," he whined. "I fucked myself on my own fingers alone in my cot and thought about riding you, about being taken over your desk, in your lap. About my tongue stretching and tasting you. Throne I want to taste you again," he panted and Dorn's eidetic memory recalled the soft, wet feeling of Sigismund's tongue on his hole. Paired with the vicious cock-pumping that Sigismund's own hole was providing he couldn't draw out the moment any longer. He came with a low sound that might have been mistaken for pain, forcing himself as deep inside of his captain as possible.

Sigismund clenched as tightly as he could manage, despite how loose he felt, desperate to aid his Primarch's orgasm. Dorn's cock, he was certain, was emptying directly into his stomach, he had never felt so full, and his lord kept coming for what seemed an eternity, continuing to shoot fresh loads of hot liquid inside of him. The feeling of his Primarch's pleasure, pleasure that only he could deliver him, was nearly enough to send Sigismund over the edge untouched. Instead, as soon as Dorn's prick had stopped it's overwhelming ejaculation, the Primarch spread Sigismund's legs wide and curled to take his astartes' cock into his mouth and down his throat. Dorn's own cock was still inside of Sigismund, not seeming to soften, as he swallowed around Sigismund's length. The position was awkward, but it didn't matter. The stretch and massive intrusion in his ass combined with Dorn's recent release and his throat working on his cock was too much all at once. Sigismund came with a cry down his lord's throat, his head dropping back helplessly as he was swallowed down.

Finally, Dorn pulled his mouth off of Sigismund and let his shaking legs wrap around his waist as he leaned down to hold his astartes. Dorn flipped them gently so that he wouldn't crush the smaller man beneath him, letting Sigismund lie on his stomach and chest, the Primarch's still-hard prick still inside of him. Sigismund was boneless on top of him and was whispering.

"Tell me," Dorn said, voice ruined with pleasure.

Sigismund tightened his grip around his lord, but otherwise didn't move. His whispers grew louder. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated.

Dorn smiled and stroked his captain's sweat-flattened hair. Sigismund sighed at the contact. "I love you, my Sigismund," Dorn said, relaxing into the bed beneath him.

They lay like that for a long while as the sweat cooled on them. Suddenly Sigismund's head shot up. His tone was indignant. "You're still hard."

Dorn hummed and flexed, his dick throbbed inside of Sigismund. " I am," he said simply. And then, "It need not concern you, my Captain. I am more than pleased."

Sigismund's face flashed with insult. "Let me ride you," he insisted and Dorn chuckled, ignoring Sigismund's affronted expression.

"You overexert yourself," Dorn explained fondly.

Sigismund frowned, his boyish features turning the expression into a pout. "Take me once again then, please. On my stomach," he suggested, "I need not exert myself at all in that case."

Dorn sighed adoringly and tilted Sigismund's face up towards him. "You have given me far more than I could hope for, you need not feel obligated."

Sigismund glared at him angrily, but Dorn flipped them before he could speak. "I know," Dorn said, pressing a small portion of his weight onto his First Captain. "But it needed saying."

He lifted his hips before pushing back inside once more, his own release slick inside of Sigismund. As his hips met Sigismund's own the astartes hummed and tried to push back into Dorn, but was stopped by Dorn's hands on his hips. "You are not to exert yourself," Dorn reminded him.

Sigimsund hummed again, body stilling dutifully. "Yes, my lord."

Dorn's response was a painfully slow thrust, drawing a groan from the man beneath him. "Sigismund, my champion." Another long thrust, drawing his length out to the tip before pushing in again. Sigismund relaxed beneath him, luxuriating in the now-easy stretch and the feeling of his Primarch above him.

"Am I good?" Sigismund asked and Dorn's thrusts stuttered.

"Yes," Dorn answered simply. He wasn't certain how Sigismund had meant the question, but it hardly mattered. Yes, he was good. In all things and in all ways. "I am sorry that you felt you need ask."

Sigismund hummed once more, when he spoke his voice was distant, distracted. "I want to be good for you."

Dorn continued in silence save for his own harsh breathing and the wet sounds of his cock sliding tortorously slow in and out of Sigismund's abused hole.

"They call us your dogs, you know," Sigismund said suddenly, voice still lust-laced and far-off sounding. "Dorn's dogs. I wouldn't mind. Being your dog."

Dorn continued to pump himself in Sigismund, but his hands gripped his Captain's hips harder, enough to bruise.

Sigismund continued his soliloquy. "I could sit at your feet and sleep by your door. I could," he groaned at a particularly deep thrust, "come to you on all fours and eat from your hand." He huffed as Dorn's pace increased, his hips snapping with more urgency. "Wear your name on a collar. So that everyone knows who I belong to."

At that Dorn crushed his hips against Sigismund's tender ass and spilled fresh release inside him in thick spurts. Sigismund moaned whorishly and buried his face in the bedding beneath him.

When Dorn finally withdrew from his Captain with a grunt he turned the astartes over gently to discover that he had come untouched on the sheets below him. Dorn brushed the damp hair away from Sigismund's forehead and placed a chaste kiss there. Then, gathering him up in his arms like a child, he walked them both to the private bath adjoining his chambers.

Dorn was an ascetic in most things, but Sigismund deserved to be appreciated in ways that Dorn would never indulge for his own benefit only. Thus, he filled the bath with warm water and a number of fragrant bottles, most of them gifted and never used. He settled himself and Sigismund into the bath as one, his Captain's back against his chest. They didn't speak for a long while, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of one another. Sigismund let his head fall back against his Primarch, close with no need for words between them.

Dorn had summoned Sigismund for a brief review of some of the landing sites marked out on one of the maps he now looked over. As they spoke, Sigismund had done his best to ignore the darting looks shared between the primarchs of the third and sixteenth legions.

"Thank you, Sigismund." Dorn had said finally, dismissing him and Sigismund bowed, turned, and left all without glancing backwards at the low chuckles he heard barely stifled behind him. He waited until the door was closed behind him to release the tension from his shoulders. *Primarchs*, he told himself as answer to their behavior and made his way back to the world of *The Phalanx* where at least his own legion made sense to him.

Dorn wished mildly that he was leaving with his First Captain to return to *The Phalanx.* He respected and appreciated his brother primarchs, but he did not relate to them with the brotherly ease and affability that they seemed to have with one another.

"Goodness, Dorn. Do take pity on the poor thing," Fulgrim laughed. Lupercal joined him, shrugging at Dorn when he looked to him for clarification.

"I don't know what you mean," Dorn said flatly. "First Captain Sigismund performs his duty well," he added.

Fulgrim's expression changed to sympathy in an instant. "Oh, Rogal." His tone was sweet with compassion. He looked to Horus who only shrugged again. He would be no help here clearly.

Fulgrim moved to sit across from Dorn, settling gracefully on one of the table's high-backed chairs, his legs folded, hands crossed on his knee. Dorn did not appreciate the condescension inherent in the pose.

"If there is something to discuss with regards to Sigismund's performance, have out with it." Dorn said. His hands were fists, spine taut against the rigid seat.

Fulgrim pursed his lips. "Rogal, I only bring it up for your own happiness," he clarified quickly, "but are you not *enjoying* your first captain when you are onboard *The Phalanx*?"

Dorn's face was blank. Fulgrim clucked unhappily. "Horus, do be useful," he entreated.

Finally the warmaster rose from his place nearby and moved to join the pair at the table. "I'm afraid your diplomacy isn't much use with our dear brother, Fulgrim," he chastised teasingly. "Dorn prefers directness."

He turned to level Dorn's gaze with his own. "When is the last time you fucked Sigismund?" He asked.

Dorn rose suddenly as if elotrocuted, hands still curled into tight fists that he now brought up as though in self defense. The chair he was sat in crashed loudly to the ground behind him. For a long moment no one moved, but Fulgrim's neat eyebrows shot up in open surprise.

Horus broke the tension, lifting his open palms up in supplication. "Rogal," he started, but Fulgrim interrupted him, his voice light with awe. "You mean you've never..." Fulgrim trailed off at Dorn's furious glance his way.

"Never used my sons as bed-warmers and whores? Is that what you're suggesting?" His voice was icy granite. "Is that what it means to lead a legion?"

"Yes," Horus said calmly. "Your men look to you for strength and reassurance. Your inner circle of captains, huscarls, and champions are only as useful insofar as they are your closest and most relied upon confidants. To deny them that closeness with you is to reject them."

Dorn's arms dropped back to his sides, but he remained standing. "You think the only way to engender trust is to take my men to bed, Warmaster?"

Horus shook his head at that and gestured for Dorn to sit down. He did at last, righting his chair and returning to his rigid posture.

"You have it wrong. Your men give everything to you. It is only right to give of yourself in return." Horus explained.

"Do you really not see the way he looks at you? Your Sigismund?" Fulgrim asked with surprising gentleness. "The boy is in love with you Rogal."

"As it should be," Horus added. "A Primarch and his First Captain is a sacred thing in the legions. Clearly I have failed in my duty as Warmaster to the Imperium to have let the Seventh continue without this knowledge for so long."

"You mean this is common practice?" Dorn asked. "Abaddon and Kaesoron?" He looked to his brothers and they nodded their affirmation. "You mean that Guilliman? Sanguinius?" Dorn's surprise was evident, replacing his temper momentarily.

"Each have their own favorites of course. It needn't always be one's First Captain. But it has proven an effective means of morale strengthening throughout the legion."

"I don't see how that could be if the assumption is that my," Dorn paused briefly to find the word, "*affections* would be focused upon only a single representative among my men."

"You needn't limit yourself to only one," Fulgrim corrected unhelpfully. Horus shot him a look.

"Even if you choose to have only one confidant among your legion the effect spreads. They recognize your approval and affection of one as the approval of all." Horus explained.

Dorn considered this carefully. Doubt played across his features.

"Perhaps a brief demonstration might ease your worry." Fulgrim offered carefully. "Kaesoron is with his company. Horus, would you?"

At that Horus pressed a vox link in the comm at his wrist and spoke into it, "First Captain, your presence is required."

"This isn't necessary," Dorn had barely finished his protest before the doors opened and Abaddon stood before them obediently.

Fulgrim tsked indulgently at Horus. "Never far away is he?"

Horus grinned winningly and motioned Abaddon to his side. Once there, Horus rose to meet his First Captain. He slid a thumb across Abaddon's jaw and leaned to kiss him. Dorn could tell the exact moment that Horus's tongue slipped between Abaddon's lips as the man sighed and relaxed, his face a pure expression of bliss.

Finally Fulgrim cleared his throat politely and the pair broke apart, a thread of wetness connecting them momentarily. Abaddon watched Horus worshipfully for a moment before his expression shifted to smug superiority, clearly enjoying such public attention from his Primarch.

Horus was still grinning. He seemed younger, Dorn thought with surprise, unburdened as though Abaddon was a balm to him. Perhaps he was. Was this what it meant to lead as Primarch?

"I believe I understand the lesson," Dorn stated plainly, ready for the astartes to leave.

"Thank you Captain, you are dismissed for now," Horus added. A promise for later then. Abaddon bowed, "My lord," he affirmed as he left, practically glowing with satisfaction.

Dorn watched, face impassive.

Once gone, Horus spread his arm's wide at Dorn and Fulgrim chuckled lightly. "All right, that's enough instruction and teasing for our poor brother. Perhaps it is time to retire and pick this conversation back up on the morrow."

"Going to find Kaesoron after our little demonstration, are you?" Horus teased.

"I won't deny I'm feeling *inspired*," The Phoenician admitted easily.

Dorn stood stiffly. "I will take my leave."

Fulgrim stood and pressed his hands around Dorn's own gently. "We really do care for your happiness, Rogal."

"And that of your legion as well," Horus added with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Dorn shrugged them both off without a word and left, silently clenching his hands all the way back to his rooms on *The Phalanx*. Once there he clicked the vox-link on his desk and spoke into it roughly. "First Captain. To me." He did his best not to think about how his summons echoed the Warmaster's own.

Sigismund was in his room in a moment, armorless and without weapon. "My lord," he greeted dutifully.

Dorn turned to face him. He would have preferred to keep Sigismund at his back, but refusing to face a problem head-on was not his way.

"Are you aware of the nature of relationship that other First Captains share with their Primarchs?" He asked.

Sigismund's lips parted in shock. The skin of his high cheeks flushed a soft pink. That was new, Dorn noted. It was also all the answer he needed. Still he allowed Sigismund to respond in his own time. "Yes, my lord. I have heard such from other legions."

Dorn nodded. So it was no secret. He thought back on Sigismund's fervor, his desparation for Dorn's approval at every turn. The rejection and denial he must have intuited from Dorn's refusal to engage him as other Primarchs did their own men. Dorn felt his temper returning but aimed at whom he wasn't certain.

"You did not think to broach the topic with me?" Dorn asked.

Sigismund's blush hadn't faded completely. He dipped his head. "You showed no favor towards any. It did not seem my place to question your decision to take none of us to your bed."

"But you assumed my displeasure with you all."

Sigismund cocked his head slightly in admittance. "It is right that we should earn your approval."

Dorn's mouth was a hard line. "You are dismissed, Captain."

Sigismund snapped up with a nod and a curt bow. "My lord."

Once the doors shut behind Sigismund, Dorn put his head in his hands.

It was months later when Dorn called Sigismund to his chambers once more. They were returned from a succesful campaign, having brought a new planet under compliance with relative ease. They had helped the inhabitants fend off a xenos raid. Sigismund led his company with his usual stalwartness but Dorn noticed the way that his champion preened at any scrap of his attention or praise.

Dorn had always assumed that such behavior was merely part of Sigismund's character, his hunger for heroics, his desire to impress. Those actions were now cast in a new light. Dorn read his open desparation for what it was. Sigismund had made an assumption of Dorn, but Dorn had to admit himself a little proud that Sigismund had remained so devoted despite his Primarch's imagined disapproval.

Disapproval was the furthest from Dorn's feelings. And for all their many faults, his brothers had shown him how best to show it. He had never shied from a challenge nor from doing what was best for his legion. He would not start now.

Sigismund stood before him much as he had months prior, armorless and weaponless. Dorn addressed him, "You did well today, First Captain."

Sigismund simply nodded, but Dorn could see how much the praise pleased him. "Thank you my lord."

"I realize that I have been neglectful of you." Dorn began. Sigismund watched him silently, expression flat. Dorn pressed his lips together, frustrated by his own indirectness. "I would like to reassure you of my approval." He added quickly, "But understand you are under no obligation or bonds of duty. I will not have you coerced into my bed."

Sigismund's cheeks pinked at that. He looked like he might protest the suggestion that he would only engage with Dorn out of duty. Instead, he crossed the distance between them and pulled Dorn's mouth down to meet his own. Rogal Dorn, iron-willed Primarch of the seventh legion, let out a small noise of surprise and lifted Sigismund to him. He carried his captain to the edge of his oversized bed and dropped him roughly into his lap. Their kiss was a stutter of lips and teeth, neither of them worrying with finesse or patience. Dorn watched Sigismund pull away and look up at him as though he was the sun itself. As though he was all that held him together. Dorn was awed by the effect it had on him.

He had always thought Sigismund an excellent champion, the best duelist of any legion, and his favored and most beloved son. But he had not considered how else he might allow himself to see him. Sigismund was handsome certainly. Strong. Dorn held his jaw between his fingers and let himself enjoy Sigismund, as Fulgrim had suggested. He ran his thumb over Sigismund's mouth and the First Captain surprised him by darting his tongue out suddenly and drawing Dorn's digit between his wet lips.

Hot white heat shot through Dorn like a lightning strike. He watched dumbly as Sigismund worked his soft pink mouth around the thickness of his thumb. Sigismund was beautiful, shockingly slutty, and hopelessly devoted. Dorn wanted to honor him.

The primarch shifted his weight and Sigismund toppled back to the bedding easily. Dorn sat on his knees above him, waiting. "Are you certain you want this? It will change things. Perhaps not for the better."

Sigismund spread his thighs beneath his Primarch and made to pull him into another kiss. "Yes," was all he said and then Dorn was leaning into his kiss and running his large hands up Sigismund's sides. It veered on the edge of ticklish, but when Dorn wrapped his hands around Sigismund's fused ribcage as easily as handling a doll the First Captain felt himself swoon with want.

"I have done you a great disservice in withholding my affection," Dorn said. He stripped Sigismund easily and marvelled at how shamelessly his Captain peacocked under his gaze, perfectly nude. He noted the length of Sigismund's prick, slightly curved at the purple-reddened tip, moist with precum and painfully hard. Soft golden curls adorned his base and furred the edges of his testicles. Dorn wet his lips. "Allow me to make up for my inattention." And with that he dropped his head and swallowed all of Sigismund's cock into his mouth in one fluid movement.

Sigismund's body tightened like a pulled bowstring, his moan coming out of him in a baritone note of shock and pleasure. Dorn could not bring himself to watch the First Captain's reaction, knowing that Sigismund would look radiant in his pleasure, eyes shut and pink lips parted indecently. Instead Dorn busied himself with taking the full length of Sigismund's cock down his throat, working his tongue lovingly across it, lathing and smothering every bit of exposed flesh he could reach.

At one particular lick Sigismund jerked his hips up suddenly, threatening to choke his Primarch who felt Sigismund's cockhead bypass the edge of his throat violently. Sigismund's noise at that however had Dorn bobbing his head at a brutal pace, filling his throat with Sigismund's cock, his mouth wrapped in a soft 'O' around the base. He understood now the give-and-take nature that Horus has alluded to. He would debase himself on his astartes' prick because he loved him and wanted him to feel pleasure and because he trusted him completely. Sigismund did all in the service of duty and honor. Dorn would do this for him, every night of his long life if he must. Though given the way that Dorn's own cock was full and heavy between his legs, twitching at every accidental bit of pressure, servicing Sigismund was hardly a burden.

Sigismund was panting heavily beneath him and Dorn worried that he might pass out if not for his twin sets of lungs. "My lord I..." He began breathlessly and Dorn placed a large, grounding palm on his chest, soothing and granting permission all in one. Sigismund came with a pained cry, filling Dorn's mouth with the hot salt of his cum. Dorn was surprised at the taste and the amount, but nevertheless swallowed everything that Sigismund gave him until finally his Captain was tugging gently at his hair, overstimulated.

Dorn pulled off of him with a wet pop, his mouth red and swollen. He knew his voice would be hoarse as well. Finally, he looked at Sigismund. His eyes were glazed over and he was breathing from his mouth in soft puffs of air that inflated his broad chest rapidly. His nipples were peaked and his tongue was just visible on his lower lip. He was the most beautiful thing Rogal Dorn had ever seen. And he had never been more painfully aroused. But he had decided early on that tonight was about Sigismund.

Sigismund was still gulping in deep breaths as Dorn laid down next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. He sighed contentedly. "My lord," Sigismund started, voice quiet with awe. "I didn't know anything could feel..."

"I know," Dorn admitted. "Neither did I."

"I love you," Sigismund said suddenly, as if it were urgent that Dorn understand. His eyes were still glossy, but he did his best to meet Dorn's gaze steadily.

"I know." Dorn stroked Sigismund's hair back from his sweat-damp forward. "I love you." Dorn said finally and Sigismund melted. He tucked himself into Dorn's chest, doing his best to wrap his arms around the Primarch. After a long moment Dorn realized that Sigismund was shaking slightly and when he pulled away to look at him he noticed wet streaks along his cheeks.

Dorn kissed Sigismund's tearful cheeks indulgently. "I love you," he repeated and held him close, an unyielding fortress around his First Captain's shaking, naked form.

"You're still dressed," Sigismund said finally, voice soft.

Dorn laughed at that, the sound bubbling its way out of him unbidden. "So I am."

"Allow me to relieve you my lord?"

Dorn nodded his assent and set to work helping Sigismund strip him until they finally lay face to face and equally nude. At the sight of Dorn's cock, less hard than before, but still imposingly erect, Sigismund's jaw went slack. Dorn watched him take in the view of his cock with no little amount of pride. His prick swelled under Sigismund's attention and the First Captain reached down tentatively, his eyes unblinkingly focused on the enormously-proportioned manhood of his Primarch. Sigismund's hand couldn't wrap easily around the shaft, but even at his exploratory touch Dorn's hips kicked forward in surprise pleasure.

"Don't," Dorn said. He took Sigismund's hand in his own. "Tonight I honor you. My own pleasure is irrelevant."

"Not to me," Sigismund argued, pulling his hand from Dorn's grasp and holding his Primarch's cock firmly. His own was hard once more, desperate for contact. He pressed his leaking tip to Dorn's own and slid the two of them against one another. The angle wasn't ideal, but the sight of their two pricks moving in unison was enough to leave both men gasping.

"I need you," Sigismund said at last. Dorn nodded and rolled onto his back, taking Sigismund with him, pulling him up and onto his chest.

Sigismund kissed him deeply, moaning into his mouth beautifully as Dorn ran his hands along his sides, his back, the base of his skull.

He reached between them and gripped Dorn's cock, moving to angle it against his ass. Dorn stopped him suddenly and shifted their combined weight once more until his legs were pulled up and spread on either side of Sigismund. Sigismund's eyes went wide at the implication and his cheeks flushed again.

"Tonight is for you," Dorn reiterated. "And truthfully I haven't the patience to open you properly. I won't hurt you," he finished.

Sigismund sighed dreamily and rubbed his hands along the undersides of Dorn's thighs lovingly. Sigismund had no experience with lovemaking and certainly nothing that would have compared to a Primarch anyway. Still, he was a man of actions not excuses. "Lubricant?" He asked and watched as Dorn's face fell briefly. No matter.

Sigismund pushed his Primarch's legs up higher, exposing him. He didn't pause to admire the view, instead he dropped to his stomach and flattened his tongue against Dorn's asshole. Above him Rogal Dorn thrashed violently in surprise.

Sigismund chuckled from his place between Dorn's legs and swiped at his hole again, prodding past his ring tentatively. He lapped at him ravenously for long minutes during which Dorn groaned and fisted his hands in the sheets desperately. He was on fire. He was being eaten alive. He was going to cum before Sigismund even finished loosening him.

Sigismund, meanwhile, was keeping his prick occupied by grinding against the bed every so often. His fingers had joined his tongue and he succesfully put two inside of his Primarch. He flexed and scissored them, licking at the place where he stretched Dorn open. He inserted his tongue between his fingers and Dorn came untouched, his prick pulsing, splashing loads of milky cum across his stomach and chest. His hands remained tight fists in the sheets. Sigismund licked at him through his orgasm and watched, entranced at the throbbing of his cock and balls and the tightening of his wet hole around Sigismund's fingers.

"Sigismund," the Primarch said, his voice wrecked with the shock of his orgasm. Sigismund moaned into Dorn at the sound of him and decided that he would do whatever it took to hear his Primarch say his name like that as often as possible.

"May I?" Sigismund asked, fucking his fingers in and out of Dorn smoothly. Dorn nodded and resumed his tightened grip on the bedsheets.

Sigismund didn't need further encouragement. He gathered up some of the cum from Dorn's stomach and then, as an epiphany, licked a stream of it from his own fingers, eyes closing in ecstasy. He grabbed a second handful and slathered it on his dick, jerking himself for relief before he lined his tip up with Dorn's entrance. He pushed himself inside with some resistance, pausing with every shallow thrust inward, desperate not to come.

Dorn huffed when Sigismund finally landed flat against him. He was hard again almost instantly, the intrusion of Sigismund's cock in his ass so erotic as to leave him cumming a second time in rapid succession. Instead he clenched down hard and watched Sigismund's eyes roll helplessly. "Please," he breathed out. "My lord."

The honorific might have seemed silly given such intimacy, but Sigismund said it like a prayer, like a promise. And Dorn loved him for it, wanted to deserve it just as his First Captain longed to earn his Primarch's approval.

"I won't last," Sigismund said finally and Dorn swiped a thumb across his hip. "Then don't," he said simply.

With that Sigismund made a pained noise in his throat and began rocking his hips against Dorn, hands still holding his thighs aloft. He shifted his angle until he was driving down into the Primarch with abandon, balls slapping against Dorn's ass on each vicious thrust, his cock stretching the Primarch's hole beautifully. Dorn was puffy and red where Sigismund's cock opened him and Sigismund couldn't look away from the place where they joined. Where he fucked his cock into his lord's impossibly tight asshole, gripping his dick for all it was worth.

His hips stuttered, slowing down and speeding up arrhythmically. Finally he felt his balls draw up tight and hot pleasure lanced through him like electricity, bright and burning. He emptied his seed into Dorn, cock pulsing strings of cum until the feeling was too much and he felt he might suffocate. At the feeling of Sigismund's release Dorn grabbed at his own cock suddenly and pulled at himself roughly until he was shooting long stripes of cum across his stomach and bent legs. Sigismund collapsed on top of him, his dick softening inside of Dorn, cum drooling from Dorn's ass onto the sheets below them.

Dorn ran his hands along Sigismund's muscular back, stroking his fingers over his ports gently. Sigismund shuddered and pulled his now-flacid penis from Dorn, letting more of his release spill from him. Dorn sighed at the feeling and drew them both up the bed. Sigismund resumed his place on Dorn's chest, head tucked against him. "I love you," he said again. He would never stop saying it he felt. Every command from his Primarch from thenceforth would be one more opportunity to show him his devotion.

Dorn kissed the crown of his head in response. "My Sigismund," was all he said. All he needed to say. Sigismund was his and Dorn had let him claim him in return as well. Dorn owned him body and soul, and now Sigismund owned a part of him as well. Something private. Something only for the two of them.

He would never understand what purpose the Emperor could have had in mind when he made astartes so reactive to their primarchs. Even other primarchs had a worshipful effect on the astartes of fellow legions, but one's own primarch commanded a unique gravitational pull it seemed, one which his astartes were helpless to withstand. The same was true even of the eighth legion. Curze was half-mad, almost always filthy, and torturously deadly at the best of times. Sevatar had never been so turned on in all his life.

Sevatar watched Curze's movements entranced. The proximity to his naked form enough to spark a wildfire of desire in him. He felt himself dripping slick onto the bedding below and widened his legs to grant his primarch a better view. Curze stopped swaying, eyes fixing on Sevatar's cunt and the small protruding prick that matched it. Sevatar waited, watching his lord's reaction closely. The few previous times he had been summoned to Curze's room for this had been different. The Night Haunter had fallen on him instantly all teeth and nails and burning cock searing it's way roughly into Sevatar while he keened and thrashed and bit at his primarch helplessly. Sevatar never lasted more than a few rounds before his body went fully limp and non-responsive under the primarch's seemingly unending orgasms.

Sevatar treasured those encounters and always hoped for them whenever he was summoned. It was what he had expected this time as well, but instead he had been instructed to strip and lie on the primarch's bed as he watched. The anticipation was nice, but Sevatar was not a patient man. He sat up and began to reach for Curze, hoping to pull him onto him. Curze smacked his hand away with such force that Sevatar worried momentarily that his fingers had been broken. He flexed them weakly and found them responsive.

"Lie. Down." Curze commanded.

Sevatar obeyed and spread his legs wider for Curze. He truly had no idea what his primarch was planning and the thought excited him enormously.

Sevatar felt the bed shift as Curze knelt onto it at Sevatar's feet. The primarch looked as though he wanted to speak, but instead he wrapped his long fingers around Sevatar's thighs, encompassing them easily, and knelt his head between them. Sevatar watched, mouth slack, as his primarch pushed his face towards Sevatar's cunt, inhaling deeply. Curze's tongue darted out almost imperceptibly as though he could taste Sevatar's scent from the air. Maybe he could, Sevatar thought, primarch's had all kinds of unknown abilities.

Curze continued to scent at Sevatar's sex, never quite touching where Sev needed him most. He seemed to be savoring the smell of him and Sevatar wanted desperately to grind his hips up and into Curze's face. Instead he gripped the flesh beneath him and let his thighs shake helplessly in the Night Haunter's grip.

Finally, after what seemed minutes of waiting, Sevatar watched as Curze lapped a long wet stripe up his cunt and the length of his cock. Sev shuddered, breathless. This was new. This they hadn't done before.

Curze leaned in again and let the length of his tongue slide against Sevatar's hole. It flicked at his ass briefly and Sevatar shivered. His tongue was larger than Sevatar had imagined. He always forgot about their unapproachable size difference until he was pinned under his primarch like a prey animal, like a doll for fucking.

His primarch lapped at his cunt again before sliding his thick tongue inside of him to the root. Sevatar felt the prehensile flicking of Curze's tongue along his inner walls and clenched down hard, trapping Curze's tongue inside him. The primarch responded by fucking his tongue thickly in and out of Sevatar's hole, tasting him completely, his mouth fixed between his legs. From Sevatar's point of view it looked like the Night Haunter was devouring him alive. His hips kicked up uncontrollably and Curze's nose, proud and aquiline, ground into the red throbbing prick that jutted out from between Sevatar's thighs. Sevatar moaned like he was dying and repeated the motion, grinding onto his primarch's tongue, licking him so deeply inside, and onto his nose, his cock pulsing with the contact.

Curze's grip on Sevatar's thighs tightened, his nails drawing blood. He withdrew his head, ignoring Sevatar's sounds of protest. "Stop. That." Curze's voice was husky, his Nostraman accent more pronounced. "Or I will leave you to finish yourself, First Captain."

Sevatar forced his body still and watched as Curze finally nodded his approval and returned to his work between Sevatar's thighs. This time he encircled his astartes' cock and took it into his mouth with a gentle suck. Sevatar let his eyes roll back, but kept still, not wanting his primarch to stop. He felt Curze's sharpened teeth catch on the tip of him. Felt his primarch close his teeth experimentally, a teasing bite to bleed Sevatar's cock, but not to injure. Sevatar came so hard that his vision disapeared momentarily into blissful nothingness. His primarch's wet mouth on his cunt and his teeth on his cock were too much, it was too new, too exciting, too perfect. His cock and cunt throbbed violently as he rode his orgasm, his dick still held between Curze's teeth.

When he finally came down he realized hazily that his nose was bleeding as were his thighs where Curze's fingers were dug in sharply and his cunt where Curze had bitten his cock enough to start a gentle stream of red down his sex-slicked lips.

Curze hummed above him. "I have to say I'm dissapointed, Captain. I expected you to last much longer."

Sevatar glanced at his Primarch - filthy, radiant, his mouth wet and shiny with Sev's release. His prick was still soft between his legs. Sevetar smirked, the expression twisted by the scar that split his mouth. "I didn't realize I was being tested on endurance, my lord. Forgive me and let me try for quantity instead."

Curze laughed suddenly, a frightening high-pitched sound. "Very well." he loosened his grip on Sevatar's thighs only slightly and dipped his head back low to lick up the wet release that sat at the edge of Sevatar's twitching hole. he flicked his tongue in and out of it until Sevatar could no longer hold his head up, falling back against the bedding with a pleasured sigh. His primarch paused.

"Say hello to Sigismund, Alastor," he commanded. "Illustrious first captain of the seventh legion." The man shivered and tried to pull in Sevatar's grasp, but the night lord's grip in his hair held him fast, drawing out a pained sound from the raven.

Sevatar spat a mouthful of acid saliva onto the ground before he bent to the raven and licked a long acid stripe up the side of the bound astartes' throat leaving a raw open wound in his tongue's wake. Alastor cried out pathetically at the contact and struggled against his restraints weakly.

Sigismund snarled and reached for a blade that wasn't there. "I don't like this game Sevetar. Untie him."

Sevetar rolled his eyes, the gesture more for his own benefit as his black sclera were indistinguishable from his midnight pupils. "Don't be so high and mighty. The raven is right where he wants to be. Isn't that right little bird?" At this he pulled the raven's head back harshly and spat a long wet thread of acid-laced drool into Alastor's mouth. Sigismund cringed at the imagined burn but from his place on his knees the raven released a half-formed moan, his own black eyes rolling back imperceptibly.

Sevetar glanced smugly at Sigismund who, for his own part, was watching Alastor for any sign of distress. Instead, to his surprise, he found only ecstasy dancing across the ravenguard's pale features, flushed slightly with obvious want.

"I see..." Sigismund muttered, not fully understanding, but understanding enough. He palmed at his cock absently, hard and waiting already. But this was Sevetar's presentation and Sigismund was happy to let him lead. Sevetar, as if reading his mind, bent to Alastor's face and kissed him roughly, shovin his tongue inside and licking sloppily against the stump occupying Alastor's own responsive mouth.

Sigismund listened intently to the harsh breaths and moans that slipped from Alastor's mouth into Sevetar's own, brushing his knuckles against his erection lazily all the while.

Finally Sevetar pulled away and sat on his bunk, legs spread roguishly, hand squeezing himself through his suit. He waved his arm at Sigismund. "Go on then. Use him for me, Sigismund."

He turned his attention to Alastor who preened under his gaze. "Be a good bird for the First Captain, Raven. I know you wouldn't want to dissapoint me."

Alastor shivered and shifted his legs wider apart.

Sigismund took no time stripping himself and stepping firmly out of his armor suit, cock bobbing heavily between his legs, blonde hair curling at its base. Alastor pursed his lips harshly, wishing he had a tongue to wet them. Sigismund stepped to him and pressed the tip of his prick to Alastor's scarred lips, stroking them as gently as running his thumb across them. Alastor sighed, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before renewing his gaze on Sigismund. "I assume Sevatarion is responsible for these?" he asked offhandedly.

Alastor noddedly decisively. Almost proudly, Sigismund thought. Sevetar chuckled darkly from his place on the bed. His cock was out and in his hand. He stroked himself lazily. Sigismund hummed with affected apathy before pushing his cockhead past the raven's lips in one smooth movement, hand reaching up to grip the base of his skull securely. He fucked the length of himself into Alastor's mouth steadily, bit by bit, until he felt himself pass the edge of his throat, which hummed around him deliciously. Sigismund moaned as he bottomed out, Alastor's lips and nose pressed into the blonde curls of his pubis. Distantly he thought he heard Sevetar huff with pleasure, but it was hard to hear much over the blood thrumming in his ears, pushed by his twin heartbeats.

"Mmm" Sigismund groaned, pushing the raven further onto his cock. He rocked his hips in shallow thrusts.

"How does he feel?" Sevetar asked, voice dark with want. Sigismund grunted again. "Mm..S'good." He shoved Alastor's face back into his curls in a suffocating grip. "He's good. He feels good."

Alastor's eyes were watering, but he kept his gaze on Sigismund's face, squeezed tightly in pleasure. Suddenly Sigismund pulled the raven harshly off his cock in one hair-gripping movement that left Alastor's scalp burning.

"Try what's between his legs," Sevetar suggested. Alastor spread his legs further, knees nearly slipping apart. Sigismund reached a hand to the juncture between his thighs and Alastor watched the Imperial Fist's eyebrows shoot up in surprise before settling back into a neutral expression.

Sevetar laughed again, but the deadly tone was clear. It said, *watch your next reaction carefully*. His hand had stopped toying with his own cock and was poised dangerously at his side instead. Sigismund had no doubt the 8th legion captain would kill him for any jabs at the expense of his ravenguard pet. But he needn't worry.

Sigismund was surprised, but he recovered smoothly, slipping his fingers back between Alastor's legs and swiping two fingers up the length of his soaked cunt, brushing the underside of his dick as he did so. Alastor let out a long breath and folded in on himself instantly and Sigismund saw Sevatar's hand return to pulling out his own pleasure.

"So wet for me," Sigismund muttered. He squeezed the nub of cock that poked through the raven's black curls. "So hard too." He pushed two fingers into Alastor's cunt and swiped at the raven's dick with the rough pad of his thumb, rubbing it in a tight circle. Alastor kicked his head back with such force that Sigismund worried for a moment that he might break his own neck. His hole tightened around Sigismund's fingers and Sigismund realized suddenly and with some shock that he had forgotten to remove the thick golden rings that he wore on his right hand. They bore the aquila and symbol of the 7th legion and sat heavily on his thick hands. Now he watched in awe as the shining metal slipped in and out of Alastor's slick hole. They caught on the rim of his cunt and Sigismund found his mouth filling with drool.

"Take him already Sigismund before I have to fuck you both myself." Sevatar called out. "Not a bad idea now that I think about it," he muttered afterwards.

Sigismund wasn't listening to Sevatar however. He was busy hoisting Alastor's thighs over his hips and settling his hole around the tip of Sigismund's prick. He forced his cockhead inside with a wet sound. Sigismund paused to steady himself, sweating as he held Alastor in place, but the bird had other ideas and dropped the entirety of his weight onto Sigismund at once, ramming Sigismund's cock inside of him in one punishing thrust. They both groaned aloud as Sigismund bottomed out and Alastor's cunt squeezed around him violently.

"You're a wonder," Sigismund groaned softly. He rutted up into Alastor's hole with full abandon, fingers crushing the other man's hips holding him steady. Sigismund thrust into Alastor with wet slaps that echoed in the small room and mixed with the sound of repetitive pumps coming from Sevatar. He was still spread wantonly on the bed, but now his fist moved rapidly across his thick length, which wept cloudy droplets as he jerked himself.

Sigismund was jerking himself as well, using the ravenguard's body as a toy. He bounced him effortlessly on his dick, each thrust harder than the last. Sigismund bullied the astartes' cunt as the man panted wordlessly, arms still bound behind him, rope biting into the stark white flesh. Sigismund had an idea suddenly and pulled Alastor onto his lap with a vicious thrust. He tucked his face against the raven's throat and breathed in the musk that mixed with the scent of Sevatar's tongue and acid spit. Alastor pushed his neck against Sigismund desperately and Sigismund kissed his throat with a soft laugh before biting into the flesh there as hard as he could manage without tearing his throat apart. The man keened above him in broken sounds and writhed on his cock, bucking his hips causing his own dick to rub Sigismund's stomach urgently. Sigismund groaned beneath him, Alastor's hole gripped him so tightly it was all he could do to hold on to the man and try not to cum.

"That's more like it," Sevatar hummed appreciately. He dropped from the bed in a fluid graceful step. He was nude now and his dick hung thick and heavy between his legs as he approached the pair on the floor. He ran a hand along Alastor's scalp and the man stretched for more contact pathetically, his hips still bucking helplessly, desperate to grind his cock against the hard plane of Sigismund's stomach. Sevatar knelt behind him and slid his hands between Alastor's legs, one palm spreading the curve of his ass while the other dipped low to feel the place where Sigismund's cock stretched him open. Sigismund jolted at the contact from Sevatar's fingers at his base and let out a deep moan as Sevatar's fingers didn't stop, but continued up his shaft, slipping inside Alastor's cunt alongside his length. Alastor huffed noiselessly at the added stretch, his head lolling back against Sevatar's shoulder. The Night Lord's captain licked another acid stripe against Alastor's jaw and Sigismund felt the response through his cock, Alastor's hole a sudden deathgrip around him. Sevatar was moving his fingers now, working Sigismund's cock inside of the raven between them and Sigismund bit hard into Alastor's throat again to steady himself.

Sevatar's other hand was working it's way into Alastor's ass two fingers at a time, using the raven's own slick to ease the way. By the time he had forced four fingers into him the raven was panting, body rigid in his restraints, jostled only by Sigismund's violent fucking of his too-stretched hole. Beneath him Sigismund's hips were stuttering off-beat. The tight, wet heat of Alastor's cunt paired with Sevatar's rough fingers wrapped around his cock and the ghost feeling of Sevatar's other hand in the raven's ass was too much. His balls tightened deliciously and warmth flushed his body as brought the raven down on his cock and pressed into his body as deeply as he could. He came with a low groan, spilling his cum in thick spurts across Sevatar's fingers, still embedded in the raven's hole filling it with his seed all the while. He came for what seemed like minutes, shaking against Alastor's scarred, pale body.

When he finally came down he pulled himself from the raven, a wet thread of cum and slick still connecting them. Sevatar's fingers followed, his hand covered in their joined fluids. It was more erotic than Sigismund imagined it had any right to be. Sevatar pulled the raven off of Sigismund's lap and into his own. He pushed his cock roughly into the man and brought his slick-wet hands up to pull at Alastor's hair and scratch open the various scars along his shoulders and upper back with his semi-clawed nails. Alastor keened and sighed, melting against Sevatar effortlessly. His cock was red and angry looking, swollen, untouched, and wet with his own arousal.

"Help me make him cum," Sevatar growled at Sigismund, his voice heavy with pleasure as he fucked into the raven's ass, his hands slicing and smearing blood wherever they gripped the man in his lap.

Sigismund wasted no time, the daze of his orgasm fading into fresh desire. He dropped to all fours and maneuvered himself between Alastor's legs, using his thumbs to spread the soft skin of the man's lips, allowing a better view of Alastor's cock. Sigismund took the swollen dick into his mouth and let his tongue lathe the underside indulgently. Alastor's arousal was sweet tinged with the salt of Sigismund's own seed. The flavor created a feedback loop of pleasure for Sigismund who could taste their collective pleasure. His tongue worked Alastor's cock and he hollowed his cheeks to create a slight suction causing the raven to cry out roughly. Sevatar cursed in Nostraman and renewed his thrusts with vigor.

"Do that again." Sevatar demanded and Sigismund obliged, sucking Alastor's cock with more force, the nub throbbing on his tongue. Sevatar groaned and ground his dick against a spot inside of Alastor that made the raven's mouth loll open showing the gruesome protrusion of what was left of his tongue. Sigismund mouthed between the raven's legs before drawing his teeth up the man's cock and crushing it gently between them, careful not to do any damage. Not that the raven would mind, he thought absently.

Alastor grunted a short weak sound. The sharp threat of teeth on his cock, the wet flood of cum dripping from between his legs, and Sevatar's thick length stretching his asshole while he flayed his back open with his knife-sharp nails were all too much at last and he came with a full body spasm. Alastor's cock throbbed violently against Sigismund's tongue and between his teeth, but he held his grip on Alastor as he rode his orgasm. For his own part, Sevatar was also helping elongate Alastor's pleasure. His fingers had found their way back inside of the raven's cunt and were stretching him open while he fucked his ass relentlessly. Alastor writhed and twitched before finally falling completely limp. Sigismund pulled his mouth from between the man's legs and leaned his loose body against his chest, one hand moving to pet his hair comfortingly. Sevatar had removed his fingers from his cunt and his now-spent cock from Alastor's ass and was rubbing small circles in the blood of Alastor's back. Sigismund glanced to Sevatar's softening cock and watched his cum dribble out of Alastor onto the floor between them. He hated that he had missed Sevatar's own release, but there was plenty of time to make up for it.

The thought pushed a shudder through his cock and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. There *was* plenty of time and plenty more ways to make the most of his time with the two beautiful and pale astartes in front of him. As they each regained their breath after their orgasms, Sigismund was struck by how devestating they looked together. Dark twins with black eyes and hair, white skin and barely-there scars that criss-crossed each of their bodies and facces, distorting their beautiful features and enhancing them all at once. Sigismund sighed and leaned his head against Alastor's temple meeting Sevatar's black gaze across from him.

Sevatar was grinning. The expression didn't read quite right on his features, but Sigismund knew him well enough to read the blissed out look of superiority there.

"Well, did you enjoy him?" Sevatar asked smugly.

Sigismund only grunted an affirmative in return and pressed a kiss to the raven's head. Alastor shook his head at the contact, the feeling of a post-coital too sentimental for his liking. Sevatar huffed out a laugh at that and Sigismund joined him, extricating himself from the pair and choosing to lie on the cool metal of the floor, appreciating the chill against his too-warm muscles. Beside him Sevatar sliced through the ropes holding Alastor's arms behind him and Sigismund could see that the bindings had left purple blooms of bruises along his forearms and shoulders.

Alastor rubbed at his arms absently once they were free, but didn't make any movement to pull away from Sevatar who still held him backwards against his chest, the two of them pressed together in an easy familiarity that surprised Sigismund. The Imperial Fist captain stretched idly against the floor. "His tongue," he started, his tone overly casual. He had no desire to upset Sevatar, but he wanted to know and so he would ask plainly. "Did you do that too?"

Sevatar shrugged, his mouth a dangerous half-smile, half-sneer. "Of course," he admitted easily. "But if you're worried about it I can assure you he enjoyed it."

At that the ravenguard in Sevatar's arms leveled his gaze at Sigismund, his eyes perpetual midnight. His scarred mouth quirked up suddenly in a friendly smirk and a chuckle bubbled out of Sigismund unbidden. Sevatar's sneer fell away leaving only the half-smile behind. He shrugged again, Alastor's body moving with the gesture.

"Don't bore me Sigismund. I'd hate to cut our visit short." Sevatar stood, pulling Alastor up and onto shaky legs as he did so. He pulled the raven down onto his cot with him, gripping his scalp and forcing Alastor's mouth onto his still-flacid penis. The raven's eyes closed in bliss.