I didn't have a particular primarch in mind when I wrote this, so feel free to stick whichever one you like best in the empty slot and have fun with whatever this is.
Usually when he returned home after long weeks or months away conquering planets or dealing with unruly xenos, his appearance is celebrated loudly. There's a feast, music, his people swarming him and his gene-sons to welcome them home.
But tonight was different. It was late, and exhaustion had settled heavier in his bones than usual. Touchdown on the planet had been quiet, and he'd shuffled here as soon as he could with as little interaction with others as possible. His sons, too, had all scattered practically immediately. What he hadn't considered, though, is that you might not be awake to greet him. But that's fine, he supposed. If you had been, he wouldn't be able to see you like this.
He leans against the doorframe, just watching you. This is a rare sight- on he's not too keen on ruining if he can avoid it. You're sprawled on your stomach across the massive bed, draped in little more than one of his shirts. His entrance had not yet disturbed you, for which he was grateful.
He steps carefully, making sure the door shuts near silently behind him, and creeps to the bed. A traitorous section of the floor groans under his weight, and he makes a mental note to have it fixed first thing. The sound makes you shift, rolling over onto your back, but through some miracle, you don't wake.
He crosses the rest of the room without disturbing you further and crawls into bed, taking his place at your side where he belongs. Resting on his side, propping his head up with one hand, he dares to let the fingertips of the other brush over your features. The touch is featherlight, the kind of gentleness he reserved only for you.
He doesn't like touch- but he likes touching you, and stars above he'd forgotten how soft you are. It was a stark contrast to his hands, rough with callouses from years of battle and training and all kinds of manual labor. You always told him you liked them, but he remains unsure of your truthfulness. Regardless, you always make little noises when his hands find you. Squeaks and giggles and small hums. It's pleasant. A reward, in a way, for all his stress and suffering.
He is not a monster to you. He is not a godly thing.
To you, he's just him. A man. Grown, and not needing to be coddled, but who melts into you when you coo his name, arms outstretched to hold him. A man who sits with you in his lap, cradled to his chest like you are the most precious treasure he's ever owned or ever will own.
If he believed in a God, he'd be thanking them daily for the light you gave to his existance. Instead, he presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose, and smiles a little to himself when you squirm.
"Mmnn…" Ah- the most dreaded noise.
"Shh," He murmurs, hoping to soothe you. "Go back to sleep."
Your eyes blink open despite his softly spoken order, finding him where he hadn't been when you first curled into the sheets. It takes a moment for your tired brain to process his presence, but then you smile.
"Hi," You hum, voice still thick with sleep.
"Hello," He says, stroking the side of your face with pure adoration.
"Just now. Forgive me for waking you."
You roll onto your side and wiggle closer, pressing yourself into him. He chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to keep you secured where you wished to be, and feels the lazy peppering of a few stray kisses against his chest.
"I missed you," You mumble into his skin.
He doesn't respond, he just pulls you even closer, curling his whole massive form around you as best he can. Because he'd missed you too, but words alone could never convey just how much. You were his light shining through even the deepest darkness, the one solid thing he could count on always being there even when all else begins to crumble. The very idea that you may not be here with him one day hurt him in a way no blade or bullet ever could.
The sound of his name pulls him from his mind, and his eyes focus entirely on you.
"What're you thinkin' about?" You mumble, slowly losing the fight against sleep as it tries to pull you back under it's spell.
You snort and giggle, face turning the prettiest of pinks before you manage to hide it in his chest. He squeezes you a little, grinning.
"I'm going back to sleep!" You say, voice muffled.
"I'm not far behind you."
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