#caphriel

Every inch of the Librarius is covered in Blood Angel history; even the floor is a massive mosaic of the Emperor of Mankind’s arrival on Baal to tell Sanguinius of His fate. Those working in the Librarius reverently avoid stepping on the tiled faces of Sanguinius and the Emperor as they go about their tasks.

But that is not the only place where the golden vision of the Great Angel oversees your work. A statue of Sanguinius greets you, holding the chapter’s founding copy of the Codex Astartes on a stasis plinth in his outstretched hands. You bow before it upon entering the Librarius, as you do every day.

The candlelight of the Librarius blurs into a sea of orange and gold, and the clicking and chattering tunes in and out of your ears. You sway back and forth as a presence settles over your body. Anchoring yourself on a nearby shelf, you open your mind to accept the message beamed into it.

“Come. I have work for you.”

It disappears and you right yourself, blinking until you can see each individual candle. Another serf approaches to inquire after your wellbeing, but you brush them off with a brief reassurance and venture deeper into the Librarius.

You don’t want to keep him waiting.

The air deep in the Librarius becomes chilled, and the candles cast longer shadows on the wall. Your nose stings with the scent of incense but you resist the urge to itch it. You are the only serf down here, surrounded by lexicani and epistolaries, and it behooves you to be on your best behavior if you wish to keep these privileges.

The shelves around you display alien technology and trophies from wars waged long before your great-great-grandfather was born. You linger, only briefly, on a sword encrusted with as much gold as it is blood.

But a greater treasure lies further within.

He awaits you in a yawning vault full of ancient scrolls and books, their delicate nature requiring delicate storage away from grubby paws of lesser archivists. Mephiston stands with his back to you as he leans over a wide platform with several papers pinned for restoration and research. He doesn’t address you immediately; preferring to finish applying a protective coating to a few pages with a brush clenched between his nimble gloved fingers. The only indication that Mephiston is aware of your presence was an imperceptible twitch of his left shoulder.

He cuts an imposing silhouette, and his white hair sets him apart from his Blood Angel brethren, but the candlelight throws shadows across his proud nose and strong jaw that makes your hands clammy and your knees weak. 

When Mephiston finally turns around to address you, your composure is perfect: hands at your sides, head bowed reverently, eyes averted respectfully. “My Lord. You have work for me?”

A deep, shuddering sigh comes from within Mephiston’s lungs. A peek at his face reveals that one hand has pinched the bridge of his nose and his jaw is set.

“Raise your head. I wished to put aside this conversation for a later date, but Lord Commander Dante has pushed my hand.” You slowly raise your head, though when you accidentally meet his piercing gaze, you immediately redirect it to his shoulder, wrapped in red fabric. Space Marines are always more intimidating when they’re outside their armor, and you realize they really are that big.

“I am at your service, Lord. What would you have me do?”

Another sigh, this one deep enough and powerful enough that it raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Mephiston’s eyes roll upwards to the ceiling as if to seek counsel from the benevolent face of Sanguinius patterned above.

“Our brothers in the Ultramarines and the Salamanders have recently published a joint study discussing the benefits of attaching baseline companions to Space Marines. Are you aware of it?’

“Only in passing, Lord. The Ultramarines make liberal usage of charts and graphs, so I find there are very few words worth reading.”

He snorts in jest. “Very true. But their study suggests that keeping baseline companions increases the health of Space Marines. Various legions have begun adopting the practice on varying levels, and Lord Commander Dante has suggested a “trial run” within some of our ranks.”

Mephiston’s brow creases. “I wished to take more time with my decision, but Lord Dante informed me that if I do not choose, he will choose for me.”

You are barely able to smother a squeal, as Mephiston moves so you are forced to make eye contact with him. There is a light blue glow in his gaze that makes your eyes water, but you refuse to blink. “If you are not the current companion of a Blood Angel, then I ask that you become mine.”

Goodness, with how serious Mephiston was asking, you’d think he was proposing to you! Your mind reels with the mental image of Mephiston solemnly getting down on one knee, under the gaze of his genefather, to ask you for your hand in marriage. To his credit, Mephiston waits patiently as your mind does somersaults, cartwheels, and backflips.

“It would be a great honor to become your companion, my Lord,” you finally wheeze. Is it your imagination, or does something in Mephiston’s shoulders relax by inches? You bend the knee to him, and it feels as though you ought to be the one with a ring and a vow. “Please instruct me in this new, sacred duty.”

Mephiston nods, the crease in his brow smoothing. “Good. Very good, indeed.” Your stomach flutters and your fingers clench on your knee. “I will have your belongings moved from the serf dormitory into my quarters. In the meantime, visit the Sanguis Corpusculum for a physical. I would also recommend you read the study about baseline companions to better acquaint yourself with your new obligations.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Mephiston’s hand rests on your head, briefly holding you in place. His entire hand is enough to encompass your head, if he wanted. “Go in the name of the Great Angel.”

“Yes, Lord. Thank you for your blessing.” ---------------------------

Brother Caphriel is the Apothecary who tends to you, drawing your blood for a routine blood lab. While his hair is almost as white as Mephiston’s, under direct light, you see the streaks of platinum blond in his tight braids.

“I wondered when Lord Dante would begin the practice of companions,” Caphriel practically chirps as he wraps the tourniquet around your upper arm. “Though I was shocked he began with the Chief Librarian himself. The study recommended the practice start with younger Space Marines.”

“Then you have read the study?” The smell of the disinfectant stings more than when Caphriel applies it to your skin.

“Yes, and I personally know the two Salamanders cited in it. Make a fist, please.”

You look away as Caphriel draws your blood into a vial. “Do you believe the study has merit?”

“I do, and I am glad that Lord Dante believes it does, as well. Though my commitment is to the physical wellbeing of my brethren and our serfs, I fully believe that mental health is one of the first steps towards physical health.” Caphriel fills two vials and bandages your arm. “Coming back to the Arx Angelicum to a warm bed, a hot meal, and a friendly face will do a world of good to the weary mind of a Space Marine.”

His eyes close, briefly. “I cannot wait for Lord Dante to make it a chapter-wide practice.”

You are quiet as Caphriel administers the rest of your physical; checking your heartbeat and looking inside your mouth. Mephiston may not see as much combat as an average Space Marine, but surrounded by alien relics and ancient technologies, tempted by the warp, his mind is constantly at war. Wouldn’t it be nice to hold Mephiston in your arms as he let down his guard, knowing that he was finally safe with you?

You can imagine his long, deep, bone-shuddering sigh—this time, one of relief.

Caphriel releases you with a full bill of health and a copy of the companion study “for educational purposes.” You tuck it under your arm, behind another tome, to hide it as you move through the halls. Outside of Brother Caphriel, no one else knows about your transfer to Mephiston’s service—and you’d rather that no one would know, at least for now.

A quiet corner is your escape, and you wedge yourself into it with a soft grunt. Propping the ring-bound study onto your knees, you fold the cover over to read the title page:

Health and Safety of Space Marines:

A Study of Baseline Companions

By Sgt. Valorem Gadriel and Brother Meduras Chairon of the Ultramarines,

And Captain Tal’Gin Gandor and Sgt. Ursan B’Dann of the Salamanders

It is endearing to see that each of the Space Marines dedicate the study to their respective baseline companions in the foreword, thanking them profusely for their time, patience, and perspectives. Brother Chairon specifically thanks his companion, stating that this study was “for them.”

You take your time reading it over the next half hour, occasionally skimming when you reach pages mostly comprised of charts and graphs. But their results are interesting: of the Space Marines they interviewed, roughly forty percent of them considered their baseline serfs to be a personal companion. They expressed a mental and emotional attachment to their serfs, and it was a pleasure to return to them after a long mission.

“It is a relief to feel my companion laying on my chest at night,” confesses a Salamander of the 8th company, “to know that they are safe and the work I do helps keep them safe.”

“One of my small pleasures is eating a meal with my companion when I return to them. We even have a special room where we sit, as the window offers a beautiful vista of the mountains of Macragge,” Sgt Gadriel admits.

The study is peppered with more anecdotes that make your heart squeeze, but the data is what makes you want to swoon. Space Marines with baseline companions were found to be at least 65% more stable than those without, which is on par with Space Marines who answered that they preferred their fellow battle brothers as companions.

Partnered Space Marines were less likely to feel the pull of Chaos in battle (55%), less likely to be reckless in battle (73%), and had a higher return rate than unpartnered Space Marines (60%). Captain Demetrian Titus reported that Brother Chairon and Sgt Gadriel appeared more focused and calmer in battle after speaking with their companions.

85% of previously unpartnered Space Marines who picked up baseline companions over time noticed an improvement in their mental health, and even in their physical health: it drove them to train more, take care of themselves in battle, and see the Apothecary more frequently for checkups.

Space Marines also gleaned enjoyment from taking care of their companions; bringing them food when hungry and medicine when ill. Watching them heal and grow was rewarding to know that they were part of that process, and it only encouraged the Space Marine to grow with their companion.

“My companion celebrated my promotion with me, and my baseline family,” Sgt B’Dann gushed, “or, more accurately, I celebrated my promotion with my baseline family. Including my companion with them is second nature to me. I could not have done it without them.”

There was one data point in the study that made your eyes water and your face burn. 50% of partnered Space Marines said their baseline companion took care of their sexual health as well as their mental and emotional health. Having sex with their baselines was not only pleasurable, but it was also relaxing. Being intimate and vulnerable with someone they trusted allowed them to feel more confident outside of the bedroom, and the rush of reward chemicals let them see intimacy as something worthwhile.

“Sometimes it can be difficult, given our size,” Brother Chairon said, “but it is only another benefit. We learn to be patient with our companions, and sometimes the workup is its own reward.”

You lick your lips, briefly tipping your head back to think about a “workup” between you and Mephiston. Would the blue tinge of his eyes soften as he looked at you in his bed? Would he prefer to watch you open yourself up for him, or would he rather do it himself? Does he kiss you with fervor, his tongue plundering your mouth while his cock plunders your cunt? Or would he kiss you softly, whispering sweet nothings between pecks about how good you feel wrapped around his cock?

With a groan, you bury your face into the baseline study packet. Your mind suddenly cannot banish the image of Mephiston’s cock between his powerful thighs, twitching and leaking precum. Surely he must be large; Brother Chairon’s anecdote suggests that Space Marines are well-endowed enough to require a long foreplay with their baseline lovers in order to take them.

If Mephiston is big enough, you might not be able to take him the first time. Your thighs squeeze together with the phantom feeling of Mephiston sliding his cock between your legs, teasing your pussy lips with his cockhead. Would he have a knot? Something like one in four Space Marines did—

You stand up on wobbly legs, feeling all the blood rush from your pussy to your head. None of this has been decided. Mephiston only asked you to be his companion; he’s made no other overtures. And the numbers in the study indicated that not all Space Marines enjoyed sexual relationships with their baseline companions.

But the thought does not leave your mind through the rest of your duties around the Arx Angelicum. Your friends occasionally stop you with creased brows and pursed lips to ask after your soundness, and you are doing well…

…perhaps a little too well. You cannot meet Lord Mephiston’s eyes in the refectorium when you take your supper. --------------------------

By nightfall, the Arx Angelicum is beginning to slow down. Baal Prime and Baal Secundus hang in the air like two eyes, watching over humanity on its surface.

You feel as though there are eyes on the back of your neck as you stand outside of Mephiston’s quarters, a bead of sweat trickling down your neck. The light on the passkey is green, indicating that the door is unlocked.

Which means Mephiston is inside.

It’s a good thing his quarters are separated, as any Space Marine or serf would be suspicious at how much time you spend outside, waffling. Do you knock? Do you announce your presence? Leaning closer to the door, you can hear movement inside. Is he unawares? The thought of catching Mephiston changing turns your knees into jelly. His broad back and strong shoulders, dotted with ports, flexing as he undresses—

“I am not unawares. You may enter.”

His voice passes over your mind like a caress. You hadn’t even noticed Mephiston had been monitoring your thoughts until your body rattles with the rumble of his voice. You try to smother your previous thoughts, ashamed of what Mephiston will find if he tries to dig deeper.

“I don’t mind.”

As the door to his chambers slides open, you can’t help but wonder if he sounds…amused?

The stained-glass window of Sanguinius triumphing over a Chaos demon shines a red-gold light into the room, and the curtains are parted to give it the full effect. When the light falls on the bed, you struggle not to see the tableau as romantic.

Especially not when Mephiston enters your field of view, wearing nothing more than a loose robe, his hair wet from the baths and smelling of fragrant herbs. You immediately take a knee, partially out of respect and partially to avert your gaze from his muscular body, still dripping with water.

“Please,” and despite pausing to clear his throat, Mephiston isn’t able to get rid of the gravel that rattles your bones, “do not kneel before me in such a private setting.” He reaches a hand down, lifting you as easily as he would a cluster of grapes.

“Yes, my Lord,” you whimper, not wanting Mephiston to remove his hand from around your waist. Throne, he can wrap his hand index finger to thumb around you.

Does Mephiston feel your heartbeat picking up speed? Does he feel your lungs scrabbling for air? Your ribs creaking beneath his thumb?

He holds you for longer than he perhaps should, cocking his head to one side. His thumb strokes against your side, gently pressing into your ribcage.

“Lord…?” You whisper. It seems to snap Mephiston out of his trance, and he finally lets you go; though his hand lingers on your hip before slipping away.

“Your belongings have been moved,” he rasps, “check that everything is in order and put them away to your liking before tending to me.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips and your eyes narrow on the streak of wetness it leaves behind on his thin lips. Turning away, Mephiston settles himself at a desk to look over some scrolls, but the shifting fabric of his robe indicates his shoulders are shivering.

It’s a frightening sight to see. A Space Marine, the Chief Librarian, brought to his knees by his baseline companion? Do you really have that kind of power over him? As the thought marinates in your mind, you hurry over to where your belongings have been stacked neatly and unobtrusively in one corner.

Taking the study packet out, you place it with your belongings. “I received a copy of the baseline companion study from Brother Caphriel, Lord.”

“Oh?” The shuffling of scrolls ceases. “Did you find it enlightening?” Your ears strain, but Mephiston’s voice is annoyingly level.

“Yes, indeed. If I may be self-centered, my Lord, I did not consider my position in the Arx Angelicum to be so necessary.” Your shoulders prickle with the sound of Mephiston’s snort.

“Not self-centered, but self-deprecating. There are only so many Space Marines in the Imperium; we cannot concern ourselves with the daily obligations of a fortress-monastery. The study merely shows that emotional support is another obligation.”

You fail to stifle the gasp in your throat. “It is not an obligation, Lord. We…I am happy to be your companion.”

“Are you?”

You turn back to Mephiston sitting at his desk. The scrolls are pushed to one side and he is turned in his chair to face you. The candles dotting the desk give a dim, golden light to Mephiston’s hair and his sudden resemblance to his genefather is striking.

But his fine lips are permanently pulled downwards, and the shadows under his eyes are not the fault of the candlelight. You feel the gentle caress on your mind again and you simply allow Mephiston to see himself the way you see him.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and silently, Mephiston raises one arm, beckoning you to his side. You need no other bidding; scrambling to your feet without even shutting the drawer and hurrying across the room. Mephiston’s hand finds a place around your waist, thumb underneath your ribs, and pulls you into him so his nose nestles into your collarbone.

Your hands find purchase in his hair, untangling the knots left over from his bath. When you kiss the top of his head, you hear a deep rumble emanating somewhere from underneath Mephiston’s sternum. It vibrates your entire body and your toes curl in your shoes.

He’s warm, and whatever salt scrub he used in the bath makes his skin soft. You can’t help but wonder if Mephiston took a bath in preparation for you staying in his bed.

Hot breath cascades over your neck from Mephiston’s chuckling. “Don’t tell Lord Dante that he was correct, or I will never hear the end of it.”

“Would you have chosen a companion even without his prodding?” You inquire. Beneath Mephiston’s purring, you hear him hum in affirmation.

“I merely wished for more time with my choice.”

“Are you happy with your choice?” You try to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, but you still crack on “happy.”

Mephiston slowly lifts his head so his nose brushes against your neck. He holds there for a moment, breathing deeply of your scent. His tongue strokes your jugular vein, groaning softly when your heartbeat jumps. The rumbling in his chest has only increased in volume.

His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you into his lap. Your hands grip the lapels of his robe, pulling on it hard enough to loosen it, revealing the hard muscles and softly-glowing ports underneath.

You feel…something nudging at the underside of your thigh.

Mephiston pulls away from your neck, but he does not pull back from you. His nose continues sliding up your neck and jaw until his cheek brushes yours.

“Yes.”

You brace yourself for Mephiston’s kiss, but it is unneeded. His lips nip on yours, letting his tongue slip between them to make his kisses soft and slick. Your hands slide under his robe, occasionally brushing against his ports until your palms press against his nipples. Mephiston’s moan interrupts his purring, but it vibrates your body all the same.

His fangs poke your lower lip as he pulls away, but no blood is drawn. Mephiston’s hands slide from your hips to your ass, pulling you closer up on his lap so his erection sits firmly between your asscheeks.

“I cannot describe to you the elation I felt when I touched your mind and found it full of thoughts of me,” he whispers. You try to tuck your head to avoid his gaze, but Mephiston grabs your chin with his forefinger and thumb. “When you knelt before me, I had to fight the urge to push you on the ground and ravage you.”

A squeak leaves your throat, and his lips curve upwards, revealing his fangs. It would feel threatening if not for your hands on Mephiston’s chest, feeling his thudding heartbeat. Testing a theory, you grind back on his cock and relish in his shuddering moan. The blue lights in his ports flicker and his eyes flutter closed.

“Why didn’t you?” Your voice is barely a whisper above Mephiston’s purring. His eyes open.

“I am…aware of my size,” and to add emphasis, he grasps your ass tightly and grinds tightly on you, allowing you to feel the length and girth of his clothed cock. Though you cannot see it, you estimate Mephiston’s cock to be nearly the size of your forearm. “I do not want to break you on your first night in my quarters.”

Mephiston scoops you up with ease, holding you against his chest as he carries you over to his bed. You scramble to wrap your arms around his neck, your ear pressed against his chest so his rumbling voice shakes your body. “I, too, have read the study—thoroughly. I paid close attention to how my fellow Space Marines cared for their baseline companions.”

He lays you down so your upper half is on the bed while your lower half is wrapped around his waist. Mephiston’s bulge slides between your thighs, curving upwards towards your bellybutton. The fabric of his robe darkens near the tip of his cock.

“Look at how deep I will be inside you,” he growls.

Held in place by Mephiston’s hands, you watch breathlessly as he thrusts his cock between your thighs. Your hips shudder against his, starting to grind in time with his thrusting. The fabric around his cock slips away until Mephiston’s cock is bare to your wide eyes.

“Dear Throne,” you whisper. Your earlier estimation of his length was correct, though Mephiston is thicker than you expected him to be. Pulsating veins spiral up the shaft, reaching towards the bright red head, glistening with precum. 

Your eyes only get wider as they travel down Mephiston’s cock to his knot. While he’s not fully swollen, his knot is almost as red as the head of his cock. It throbs in time to his heartbeat, and Mephiston shifts so his knot presses against your clothed pussy.

“Do you like it?” For all his lust, Mephiston almost sounds shy. He cannot meet your eyes when you look up at him, instead directing his gaze to where your hands grasp at the bedsheets.

“Every inch of you is exquisite,” you whimper. Releasing the sheets from your iron grip, you reach up for Mephiston and he leans down to you, hand cupping the back of your head to pull his face towards his.

Your lips crush together in a symphony of muffled moaning. Mephiston’s cock slips out from between your thighs and presses against your stomach, wetting your uniform with precum. Where it seeps through your attire, it feels hot against your skin. Mephiston continues grinding on your stomach, huffing into your mouth. His eyelashes brush your cheeks, leaving tingling in their wake.

Mephiston pulls away. “I need to see you naked,” he pants, his fangs extended from his kiss-swollen lips. “Give me your hands.” Obediently, you place your hands over your head and Mephiston holds you by your wrists before closing his eyes and focusing until a pale blue light emanates from beneath his closed eyelids.

Something slides under your uniform, pressing against your chest and rubbing your belly. It’s firm and warm, and large. Your breath hitches as it skitters over your ribcage, seeking the ties of your robes. Mephiston’s face doesn’t give any indication of what he’s doing, though when the invisible hand pulls the tie of your robes, he lets out a soft moan.

It’s almost a shame that his eyes are closed when your robes fall open. The invisible hand parts them so your naked body is sprawled on Mephiston’s bed, held into place by his hands on your wrists and his thighs bracketing your hips. He squeezes his thighs against your hips when you try to grind on him again.

“Lord,” you whine, but Mephiston does not respond—at least, not verbally. The fingers of the invisible hand pinches one of your nipples hard, making you squeal.

“Hush,” he grumbles. The glow under his eyelids briefly shines brighter and a second invisible hand presses on your body, cupping your hip. While the first hand moves to your other nipple, the second hand slides down to the apex of your thighs where you’re dripping from his attention.

One invisible finger splits your pussy lips, rubbing your quivering slit. “You’re so wet,” Mephiston whispers in a shuddering voice, almost incredulously. “Is this all for me?”

“Only for you,” you whisper rapturously, and Mephiston moans softly. His cock is a brand where it rests on your thigh, drooling precum that mixes with your juices on the bed in a glistening puddle. An invisible index and ring finger spread your pussy lips before a middle finger slides inside.

These invisible hands are the size of Mephiston’s physical hands; you can even feel his heartbeat through the middle finger pumping in and out of your pussy. It beats in time with his cock, with his knot; and it skips a beat when your pussy lips flutter and gush.

The palm of the hand tilts upwards and you cry out as it rubs your swollen clit. Instead of losing his concentration, Mephiston almost puts too much force into his psychic hands and you whine when his finger roughly jabs your soft walls. But he reigns it in, and the pad of his finger soothingly rubs the spot where he jabbed.

“I can’t last…much…” you whimper, your clit throbbing. Looking down at your pussy, it’s a little jarring to watch your pussy quiver and spread for an invisible finger fucking you to orgasm.

Instead of speaking, a warm caress settles in your mind. “Good. I will not wait for you much longer.” Even when speaking in your mind, Mephiston’s voice is rough with lust and he sounds out of breath. “Cum for me.”

The invisible hand slams into your cunt so the middle finger is plunged deep inside, the palm groping your clit. Pulsing, tensing, arching, your mouth opens in a silent scream and white spots dance across your vision. The sound of your wet gushing is overridden by Mephiston’s moaning in your own mind. To his credit, he does not dispel his invisible hands immediately after you cum, and continues fingering you through your orgasm.

“Good pet,” he whispers, finally opening his eyes to gaze upon your wet and disheveled form. The invisible hands disappear from your body as Mephiston’s physical hands let go of your wrists and travel your heaving body to wrap around your hips and hoist you into his lap. “Now, it is my turn.”

Your mind blinks into consciousness as the bulbous head of Mephiston’s cock nudges your pussy. He grinds on you again, letting your juices wet his shaft and knot and sending little shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Would you give me your knot, Lord?” You whimper, digging your fingers into the meat of his shoulders. Mephiston’s mouth hangs open, fangs exposed. 

Taking the advantage, you press onwards. “Would you knot me? Fill me with your seed and plug me up? I don’t want a drop to leak out.” Rolling your hips, you let the head catch on your slit and push down—

—Until it pops inside.

You and Mephiston moan in tandem; with his eyes open, you are treated to the sight of Mephiston’s eyes briefly overwhelmed with the blue glow of his psyker powers. The head of his cock carves a path for the rest of his shaft until you feel it prodding the head of your womb. Your stomach feels heavy where his cock stretches you open, and looking down, the sight of your belly bulging is almost…obscene.

And then Mephiston moves.

The bulge slowly withdraws before pushing back up, the indent of his cockhead appearing just under the skin of your belly. His knot doesn’t fit in you yet, but Mephiston makes good use of grinding it against your pussy lips and short-circuiting your brain. Your body spasms in his lap, fingers dragging down his shoulders until they grip his biceps.

“All this talk about wanting my knot,” Mephiston huffs, shoving his knot against your clit and savoring your scream of ecstasy, “and yet it won’t fit in your tight little pussy?”

With one hand, he wraps it around your waist so his thumb presses against the bulge his cock makes in your stomach. “My cock won’t even fit in you, and you want my knot?” Despite the grin on Mephiston’s face, he gulps for air and each time he lowers you onto his knot, you feel his stomach shuddering.

His other hand grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. “I asked you a question, pet. You want my knot?”

“Yes!” Tears leak from the corners of your eyes. “Please, I need your knot, Lord!”

The bulge in your belly distends further as your body relents to the superior strength of a Space Marine, and you gush all over Mephiston’s knot as it finally shoves inside you. With his entire cock fitted inside of you, your womb is likewise forced open by Mephiston’s cockhead and it sits there snugly, like he belongs inside of you.

He lets go of your face, stroking your cheek as he does. “I didn’t think you could,” Mephiston huffs, nuzzling your neck. “I haven’t fit in a baseline before.”

“Does it feel good?” Your stomach clenches around his cock and you both shiver.

“I never want to take you off my cock.” As though to demonstrate, Mephiston lays back on his bed, bending his knees to support you on his thighs. With your head resting on his chest, you hear Mephiston purring again. If not for his cock and knot lodged in your pussy, you might be tempted to fall asleep here.

“Do not fall asleep on me,” Mephiston warns in a breathless chuckle, his breath stirring your hair. He grinds into you, letting his full balls rub on your asscheeks. “You begged to be seeded, and I need to be drained.”

You push yourself up on your elbows, anchoring yourself on Mephiston’s chest. “Then let us fulfill each other, Lord.”

The glow in his eyes flashes again and Mephiston grasps your ass to spread the cheeks. “Oh, you are the only one going to be filled, pet.” You have but a second to brace yourself before he thrusts upwards, popping his knot in and out of your pussy with a lewd, wet noise.

There’s just enough squeeze when Mephiston shoves it back in to make you squeal, bouncing on his knot. Your womb has opened for him and when Mephiston pulls you back down on his knot, nearly half of his cock is pushed inside of your womb. His hands pull your thighs apart so he can watch you bounce on his knot.

“What a blessed sight,” Mephiston groans, running on hand over the bulge he makes in your stomach. “Would you like to see yourself through my eyes?”

You barely manage a wibbly, whimpery “yes!” before Mephiston’s eyes are overcome with their blue glow. He holds you still on his cock, knot throbbing just inside your pussy lips. He needs to take a few deep breaths to focus, and instead of the usual touch on your mind, you feel as though someone has taken your head in two hands.

The sight of Mephiston beneath you, white hair fanned around his head like a halo, begins to blur. You try blinking multiple times to clear the image, desperate to watch his face shift with ecstasy and pleasure, but the next time you blink—

You’re looking at yourself, astride Mephiston’s lap with your stomach bulged from his cock. From this angle, you have a perfect view of your pussy stuffed with his knot, the lips forced apart and swollen from being plugged over and over again. It’s also the perfect view to watch Mephiston’s cock throbbing in your womb, as your stomach twitches slightly each time he throbs.

In a truly commendable display of his psyker powers, Mephiston maintains the mental link with you as he lifts you from his cock, just enough that the bulge in your stomach disappears. “Please, Lord, please, please, please,” you beg, watching through Mephiston’s eyes as you uselessly gyrate on his cock. “I’m so close, I just need it!”

“Are you sure, pet? If you’re close, then you should be able to finish without me.”  Mephiston’s fingers dig into the soft meat of your thighs, holding you just at the tip of his cock. His powers are beginning to slip and you briefly return to your own mind to watch sweat beading on his forehead, glowing slightly from his eyes.  

“No, I need it! I need your cock!” Your fingers scrape down his chest, leaving red marks in their wake that quickly fade. As if your bright red face wasn’t pathetic enough, tears start rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me cum on your knot!”

Maybe it’s your tears, your begging, or his own need for release, but Mephiston smiles with all his fangs. “I want to hear my name when you cum,” he rumbles, at last slamming you on his knot and returning you to your own mind.

You have at least the presence of mind to answer his request, “Mephiston!” before your thoughts are scrambled by your second orgasm, cumming and convulsing on his knot. A wetness pools under your thighs, and the viscosity indicates that it’s not just your juices.

“I will give you what you want,” Mephiston growls, beginning to pound you up and down his cock like a plastic sleeve for his own pleasure. “I will give you every single drop!” His knot is lodged in your pussy, too swollen to be removed as his cock prepares your womb for his seed. You can do little more than let your mouth hang open and your eyes roll back.

“I will—” Mephiston’s voice cuts off on a throaty grunt as his swollen knot forces him to stop thrusting, holding his cock deep into your womb. His cock throbs twice before his balls heave and begin unloading his cum inside of you. The first splash of Mephiston’s cum hits your womb, filling you with warmth.

With his knot keeping everything plugged, the second and third blasts are quickly filling your womb. “How much…?” You whisper, putting one hand on your belly to feel it swelling.

“Did I not say?” Mephiston pants, “I haven’t fit in a baseline before. I am eager to see how you are filled with my seed.” He grins again, watching your belly bloating with his cock and cum.

“I feel heavy,” you moan. Your womb is stuffed, and it sloshes with cum when you try to move—not that you can go anywhere, with Mephiston keeping your thighs in a viselike grip. Your belly continues to distend with the emptying of Mephiston’s balls, and you lower yourself on Mephiston’s chest to rest again.

His knot softens enough to pull out, and he does—slowly, moving you so your back is resting against his chest. Once Mephiston’s cock withdraws from you, fully, he tilts your head towards his face.

You push him down when Caphriel tried to rise. The sun won’t be up in a few hours, but if he knows what’s good for him, he needs to rest more. If he wants those holes in his chest to close up, and if he doesn’t want to make anymore of a mess than he already did, he needs to stop moving already.

“Just, lay down and stop.” The fog of sleep clouding your mind only made it easier for annoyance and anger to slip through. “Whatever you’re worrying about, it’s not going to happen.”

But of course, this king would continue being stubborn. There’s never a day where a worry was never on his head.

“I need to leave,” he said that, while blood was still smeared on his chin, “I can’t…just stay here. I need to…go farther…away from here.”

“Run away and you’ll be lead right back here.” He won’t get far and he knows it. There’s nothing but woods out there, with faeries, seelie and unseelie alike roaming. “You’re only here because the fair folk let you. No one else will come.”

“Fair?” Finally, Caphriel settled down, though a cough wracked him for a moment. “I…then…how am I here?”

How does a knight like you, who once smelled of iron and silver get invited in their domain? And how does a vampire tainted in the scents of pig’s blood be allowed passage?

By all means, the both of you should be dead, poisoned by the woods or fully starved from their “childish pranks.” It would’ve been easy to get rid of Caphriel, given how weak he is, while for you, well…

You weren’t in the right state of mind at the time. You wouldn’t have stopped the wrath of the faeries, had they’ve been angered.

For you, it was as simple as returning a gem dug inside of a false faerie circle. Poachers love to steal their things and plot them elsewhere. At least, that was the first deed you did. You have countless to your name from all your travels.

But of course, Caphriel would know of those stories. He’d turn them into fantastic fairy tales for his children when they asked for them.

No matter the hour, he would weave a story for them, all two daughters and one son. Not even the early day hours would stop him.

…you should stop thinking.

For him to be here…well you wouldn’t know.

“Perhaps you unintentionally did a good deed towards a faerie. Or it’s a favor paid to you because another family member saved them.” You shrugged. Faeries are a fickle folk. You’ve learned to stop questioning them through your own frame of logic. “Who’s to say? Either way, you’re staying here.”

You weren’t surprised at his frustrated sigh, watery with saliva and blood. You passed him a dry towel use on his face. Crusty blood tends to itch and his red claws were still out.