#ress writes

So basically I saw him blow himself up tae fuck and said 'no.' but also I don't want to erase his whole genestealer thing. So.

The corruption starts earlier on. The ship's lho comes from Janus as it is. And Einrich smokes like the trains he loves so much. But Garion, specifically, has a stronger strain that's personally grown for him and Vyatt. After the scene on Savage in the freight line, Garion absolutely did not let that shit slide and ~invited~ him to his quarters. And Garion lets Einrich have a few puffs off his lho when he does, and this happens a few times.

Einrich and Garion end up growing close beyond 'subordinate with benefits', as Garion used to work building Voidship engines, worked around hot forges, and genuinely does respect the Inferni(on his homeworld their Inferni were treated much better so this shit is unheard of and fucking wild to him). Einrich essentially becomes Garion's 'work wife'. Though the word 'love' doesn't pass between them, it's actively gossiped about by much of the ship.

After Achilleas's death(for those who don't know, Garion's first love in Domino Effect is Achilleas and he actually finds his dead body), Garion eventually comes back on-board and Einrich actually tries to get him to come with him down to be given the Genestealer's Kiss, but fails.

The Sire knew, when Garion came back from Commorragh as an awakened psyker with a Drukhari and openly calling to Chaos, that the cult on the ship was fucked. Especially after Einrich was unable to change his mind about letting Marazhai hunt on the lower decks.

So Einrich was given one last chance to bring Garion into the broodmind. And he fails. Again. And if this didn't succeed, if the Sire fell and Einrich remained, he was under orders to fake his death and rebuild the cult again. He'd not expected Garion to actually let the children and elderly survive, not expected Garion, the corrupted man who'd slaughtered his family, to try everything he could to get Einrich not to do this.

But he still hit the button. He faked the camera feed cutting... And then sat and cried at losing almost all of what was left of his family, burdened with the expectation to build a new one on his own. He was angry. He was heartbroken.

He, of all people, knows the train shifts, knows the best hiding places. There are still some clans in the lower decks who are friendly to him. He stays in the hidden recesses of the ship, through the rest of the game, through Eufrates and through Epitaph. He hides. The efforts of enforcers, of chaos cultists, of the Word Bearers, all make it so, so difficult for him to stay hidden, much less even think about starting a family. And all he can think of when he thinks of family is his Elsinora and Garion. Why, oh WHY is he thinking about Garion? They could never have had kids anyways. And why would he want that with... With everything he's done? But the thought settles there.

When the genestealers take over Dargonus, Einrich is... At the very least happy some distant cousins succeeded...

But it festers in his gut with resentment. Everything he could have had if he'd just succeeded in pulling Garion into the brood mind. And the corruption all around him in the ship is sinking in through the grime and the awful lho he's managed to bargain for from the people who don't know who he is.

He misses cheekily snatching the little lho cigarettes from Garion's lips to smoke those. Is it really the same man ordering all these horrible things down here? Slaanesh sinks his teeth deeper and deeper into that individuality he has, separated from a Patriarch, and into his desire for something better. His desire for a family. But Einrich refuses to give in to the temptation to... Maybe, just maybe give one prayer to these powers everyone else in this place.

Until it finally comes, nearly ten years later. A hive fleet attacks Dargonus. And the broodminds are cut free. Everything crashes on top of Einrich as he realizes, with horror, that everything he's ever believed in was a lie. There was never a four armed Emperor. Only thousands of ever-hungry mouths.

He has to warn Garion. Before they go to investigate.

But how can he? One xeno is never going to be able to fight his way onto the bridge, not in time. Not from down here. But he has an idea. A fucking stupid one, but an idea. He finds a communication cogitator and... After a moment of hesitation, and muttering something that certainly isn't a prayer, he gives a shot at trying the old access psalms.

And Garion almost has a heart attack when he hears a dead man asking him why the fuck he still hasn't changed his passwords.

(At this point, Garion is already with Marazhai and Calligos, though neither is on the ship with him at the time.)

When Einrich is escorted to the bridge to explain himself--under STRICT orders that he's not to be harmed--he's expecting to see a horribly fucked up man with zero regret. He's expecting a monster. And he does see a monster, a corrupted man with three eyes, budding horns, and small little wings, but he also sees a broken man who's looking at him the way a dog looks at their owner after being separated for years.

Einrich explains what he knows about the Hive Fleet and what's happening on Dargonus. The entire time, Garion is prodding at his mind, and Einrich can feel the man's disbelief through the psychic connection. The hurt. The relief. The love. And he's... Horrified. Every horrible thing on this ship, done by this one man. And he's horrified by the fact that he pities him and somehow still loves him.

Out of necessity, Einrich is kept with Garion in his quarters, away from people who want him dead while Garion and Nomos deal with the hive fleet.

It's. It's not an easy thing. Coming out from nearly a decade of starvation and sitting at death's door. Much less the fact that he's kept in such lavish conditions while he knows what goes on down there. He knows that, if he asked just once, Garion would throw this all away. The man nearly ripped off his own horns when he sensed some small amount of disgust from Einrich about the mutations.

But doing that would only be... At best, it would be a swift death. If not eons of torture and pain from the Word Bearers and cultists on the ship, not to mention from the deeply corrupted ship itself and the shackled Star God known as Nomos.

So he. Plays along. There's no saving Dargonus or the cult there, but Nomos does make swift work of the one small hive fleet. Some splinter fleets make it away, but as is the nature of tyrannids.

Einrich... Ends up taking back the position of Infernus Master. Even if the Inferni are no longer his brood brothers, he can't stand any other position. And with one small part of himself returned, Garion's mad, insane blaze across the stars mellows. He slows down before he burns out. He sits and learns to control his telepathy better, because it hurts Einrich this way. It pulls Garion back from the brink of his apostasy becoming outright blatant too quickly.

And Einrich gets his smokes back.

He... Slowly gets used to the idea of indulging in down time. Sleeping in some days. He stays in Garion's quarters, at first out of necessity to keep from being killed by people with more than a bone to pick... And then just because Garion just. Never told him to leave.

Slaanesh wasn't a hard pick for him. He felt corrupted just by sleeping for a few minutes, having an actual full meal instead of rations, and being able to just. Sit. In a bath. That was a luxury beyond his imaginings. And he felt horrible about it. But he kept doing it. Slaanesh also offered better stimulants. Kept him and his subordinates going, gave them faster reaction times.

But he doesn't offer a direct prayer. He, as my delightful friends on discord have said, is a punch-clock cultist. He wears the uniform, says the right things, performs the rituals, but when the day is done, it all comes off.

He meets Marazhai, hates him.

He meets Calligos... Hates him...?

He was told he probably wouldn't get along with him. Khorne and Slaanesh are direct opponents in the Great Game. But he doesn't get it. Garion and Calligos rough house in their quarters. Go on weeks-long hunts together. Sure, he's a blood crazed nutcase, but Garion's got him on a leash. After a hunt, he's always sated, at least for a little while. And during these times... Einrich thinks he likes him. Listens to him talk about the hunts, about weapons. And in turn, Calligos will listen to him talk about the ship and the engines.

Calligos at least once asks about Savage and sends Einrich on a whole long session.

There absolutely was not one time when Calligos came back, blood drunk, to find a very druggy Einrich on the bed. Totally nothing happened between them during this hypothetical. (Lying)

Needless to say, Einrich finds the feud meaningless.

One day, maybe it gets brought up after another officer has a child, the instincts to breed resurface. Or maybe they already had and he was just refusing to look at them. Regardless, it results in Garion and Einrich talking about children. It aches, in Einrich's heart. Some part of him knows it's just the genestealer DNA, but he's wanted a family for a long, long time.

Garion nuzzling him. Telling him that, well, maybe if he would actually pray to Slaanesh maybe she'd give him one. Einrich snaps that he doesn't want some daemon baby. And the conversation is ended there. But the thoughts keep going.

And finally, he gives in. He prays. Just once. He says that if Slaanesh actually wants his devotion, they need to give him what he wants. A way to have a family with Garion. No tricks, no monkey's paw. The man just wants a fucking baby, dammit.

And Slaanesh, in all her wisdom, goes BET.

And he gives that man a womb and throws him ass deep into a chaos-induced heat. Is this for the porn brain? You FUCKING bet it is.

Long story short, he gets his baby, by the gods. I'll infodump about her later, but her name is Ellie and she's a fucking menace and a delight on the ship.

This little girl is the catalyst for a lot, but especially Calligos and Einrich's relationship. Einrich doesn't expect Calligos to be any good with Ellie. And sure, he's a little awkward at first, especially with her being more outwardly buggy than her dad and he's usually an absent dad as is, but before long the little bug is climbing him like a jungle gym and is the only one allowed to call him 'Callie'. It doesn't hurt that Calligos also has and will use his blood lust to fight to protect them when a rival cult broke onto the ship in a Warp Jump.

When Garion announces that he and Calligos will be getting married. It's a political marriage, he tells Einrich, but that doesn't help much. Marriage is. Different, for Genestealers. At least for his cult.

(this is all 1000% head canon for genestealer culture don't come @ me)

Genestealers are generally just in a hivemind-wide polycule as it is, essentially. But you married the one you wanted a family with. And Garion has a family. With him. He ignores the little part of him that says Calligos should count in that.

He's more than a little mad.

Okay, a lot more.

But Calligos pulls Garion aside. And then Garion just. Casually asks what Einrich's first marriage was like. Listens to him describe the simple ceremony and vows.

There's a big display for the two Rogue Traders' marriage. It's all fanfare, and Einrich doesn't attend. But the two do insist on him coming with them on their honeymoon. A certain jungle planet.

His fingers flick over the trigger on his cutting torch, the click-fwoosh on and off of it and the heavy sensation of the tool’s activation soothes his nerves, even if only by a small margin. The elevator comes to a stop with a heavy thud and he turns the blowtorch off one last time, sighing and clicking it to his belt again. It’s dimmer in here than on the bridge, lit more by candles and braizers hanging from the ceiling than any lumens.

The trophy hall is markedly empty, aside from two imposing sets of heretic astartes power armor, one on either side. A trophy from Rhykad Minorus and a trophy from Kiava Gamma, empty and yet posed as if guarding the chambers beyond. He shudders a little as he passes them, keeping his eyes solidly forward. The lho stick in his mouth rolls as he chews absent-mindedly on it. The light from the meeting area spills into the hall and he hears the faint click of a lighter as he approaches the giant doorway.

Most of the candles are blown out in the central room, the light coming only from the sparse lumens. More light comes from beyond the chamber, from where he assumes the Lord Captain’s more private chambers are, but that’s not where he’s going. His eyes draw to the quick snuffing out of a lighter behind the desk. 

Garion, the Lord Captain, is leaning back in his desk chair, clearly not concerned with appearances. His normal coat and belts of ammunition and supplies are slung over the back of the chair carelessly, he’s in only his red undershirt and pants. The chair is askew, Garion’s scarred side facing the Infernus Master, and the little ember of a small, almost dainty lho stick casts next to no light on anything but itself at the end of Garion’s lho-holder. From experience, he knows that tiny thing probably has more narcotics and less poisons in it than his own thick, hand-rolled cigar of a lho stick.

Dim lights, casual smokes… Einrich’s shoulders relax as Garion pulls the lho stick from his lips. The cloud that spills out from his mouth is outlined by the pale light of the stars through the large void-window behind him. Einrich’s got a pretty damn good idea of where this is going. His lips twitch into a smug smile and he invites himself up the stairs, those silvery eyes flicking to look at him as he leans on the large desk.

“Let me see… did you want the reports on the loading bay inspections?” He raises a brow and takes a long drag of his lho, letting the smoke out with his next words, “Repairs to the port macrocannons aren’t finished yet–”

“You’re on my bad side, Infernus Master.” Garion vaguely motions to his scars and the mangled mess that is his ear, his voice low and a light lilt on his title, “Come around to this side of the desk, hm?”

Einrich chuckles and straightens up, “Of course, sir.” He comes around the desk, leaving behind a sooty handprint on the desk where he’d been leaning. Garion’s half-lidded eyes follow him around until he’s standing before him. Before he can say anything, Garion’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“We need to have a discussion about your… behavior on the Freight Line, Infernus Master.” The Rogue Trader tilts his head to one side, then taps the ashes off of his lho. His eyes narrow, “Get on your knees.”

For a beat, his heart is in his throat. It’s entirely possible this isn’t actually what he assumed it was. His knees hit the rug and he gives his usual stunning grin, leaning back on his heels, “Which part, Your Lordship?”

With all the casualness of propping one’s leg on a stool, the Lord Captain swings one of his heavy, augmented calves onto his shoulder. Einrich grunts a little, but shifts to accommodate for the extra forty or so pounds of plasteel and adamantine on his right shoulder now.

“Your… familiarity with me on the bridge is one thing.” Garion takes a long drag again, his eyes flicking down to Einrich’s chin, watching his jaw work ever so slightly to chew on the end of his own lho, “That…” The man chuckles, his eyes coming back up to eye contact. Einrich remembers clearly; chest pressed up to the Lord Captain’s back, the rumbling, angry snarl of Savage in their bones, how his hands nearly completely covered Garion’s on the controls… “I think we can both agree crossed a line.”

Einrich swallows, but the smile won’t fall from his face, “My sincerest apologies, Your Lordship, I stepped out of line.” As he speaks, the ash falls from his lho and lands on his pants, leaving a grey spray across the fabric, “What can I say? The danger excites me.”

“The danger of Savage’s wrath? Or the danger of getting so close to the man that owns you and everything you’ve ever known?”

Einrich’s lips close around his lho and the end of it lights up and adds more ash to the precarious end, “Both.” The word is barely a breath of smoke out his mouth and he shrugs his un-burdened shoulder almost carelessly, “I suppose I just can’t help myself, wretched lowlife that I am.”

Something changes. The Rogue Trader shifts. The look in his grey eyes is… unreadable for a moment. Black metal fingers pull the delicate shaft of the lho holder out of his mouth and he sits up. His calf remains on Einrich’s shoulder and the rough pads of his flesh hand gently grip his chin, tilting it up a bit. Looking over his features. His expression shifts again before carefully pulling the cigar out of his mouth, “That was not my intent, Infernus Master.” He moves to tap the ashes off of Einrich’s smoke into an ashtray on his desk. He brings it back to Einrich’s mouth, “A line may have been crossed, but…” He watches intently as Einrich takes the end back into his lips. His fingers brush across the man’s cheekbone, trailing his knuckles down the side of his face before finding his chin again, swiping a thumb across the man’s lower lip, “I never said I didn’t enjoy it.”

Einrich's eyes search his. Confused, maybe. Cautious, certainly. He takes a slow drag as he watches Garion lean back.

“And I did. More than really is proper, all things considered. And you go and leave me hanging without so much as a ride?”

A smirk slowly spreads on Einrich's face. His racing heart begins to relax, “As much as I would have liked to, your lordship, Savage really is that dangerous for passengers. Driver's gotta move with him just right around the corners or you'll fly right off, and the driver’s got something to hold onto. He's not made for people, just freight. Maybe a ride on Admiral or Majesty would be a better first time rider for ya before that beast.” The situation at hand slips from his mind as his eyes drift to one side, legitimately considering this. A soft chuckle from Garion breaks his thoughts and his face flushes a little, “Ah, well–”

“It's alright.” He looks up and sees an almost soft, amused expression on Garion's face, “We'll come back to that later, but right now, I think I'd rather you make up for the ride I couldn't get.”

“And how ever could I make up for denying you anything, my lord?” His eyes flick over Garion's body again, completely aware of the tent in the man’s pants.

“I think you've got a good idea of that already.” The Lord Captain is grinning at him when he looks back up. It looks almost sinister, lit only by starlight and candle light.

“I dunno, you’ll have to spell it out for a simple laborer like me, I–”

Einrich’s snark is cut off by Garion wrapping his calf around his back and pulling his face up, hard, against that tent in his pants. The man’s flesh hand casually picks up the lho-cigar, ignoring the singed spot on his pants where it had brushed against it in the sudden movement. With a flourish, he presses the cherry red end to the palm of his metal hand, putting it out with a soft sizzle before tossing it onto his desk.

“You’re not simple, Infernus Master. No one simple makes it onto my bridge without being a servitor.” He relaxes his leg, his thigh now on Einrich’s shoulder, “Now, put that mouth to something more pleasant than insubordination, hm?”

“Of course, sir.” Einrich presses his lips against the deep red fabric, feeling his Lord Captain’s cock twitch underneath. Garion hums approvingly, so he pulls back just enough to unbuckle the man’s belts and pulls out his cock. His eyes keep on Garion and he sees the way the steel in his eyes falters as he presses a kiss to the flushed skin. His tongue slides out and sweeps up the underside of it, drawing a soft gasp out of Garion’s throat.

“Fuck…” Garion takes his lho out and lets his head tilt back with a cloud of smoke as Einrich laves his tongue over his tip and takes it into his mouth. He tastes like skin and sweat, and… hot metal and rust. For some reason he expected some noble soap or perfume. It’s probably from his armor and the blood he’s spilled recently.

Einrich wraps his arm around the thigh on his shoulder, his metal and flesh fingers digging into the fabric as he closes his eyes to focus on the task at hand. Garion’s eyes stay glued to him, weight shifting to open his legs further as Einrich sucks on his head and traces the veins with his tongue. A faint noise comes from the Lord Captain as he starts moving his head in shallow bobs first, closing his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, his tongue flattened over his teeth and pressing against the warm curve of a cock. A fling or two when he was younger, another when he was older… more than a couple to get out of trouble with higher ups. Not unlike now.

A hand finds its way into his locs, gripping at the back of his head. He finches a little, it’s close to the strap of his goggles and a bullet in the head is the best he can hope for if those come off. He moves deeper, though, swallowing to keep a gag at bay as the head of the Lord Captain’s cock brushes at the back of his tongue.

“Einrich…” A shiver shoots up the man’s back. He opens his eyes to look up at the blonde man again, expecting a glare or a reprimand for going too fast, only to see Garion hiding his mouth behind his metal hand, eyes almost glassy and what parts of his face that he can see are pulled up in nothing but desire… maybe some restraint, too, but the way those fingers tightened in his hair when he looked up tells him that much. He pauses, but rapidly shoves thinking to the back of his mind and goes back to moving before he actually pisses Garion off.

It doesn’t escape his notice, though, that this is the first time that Garion has said his name since calling him in here. And he hears it again, and again, as he moves. He should be hating this, by everything he’s known, he should hate this… But he can’t stop watching the way the Lord Captain squirms ever so slightly in the chair as he moves, the way his crooked lips form his name.

The hand in his hair tightens again and he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, pulling back off and pressing a kiss to his tip, “Easy on the hair, your lordship. If you keep tugging on it like that, I won’t be able to finish my job, hm?” He looks up through half lidded eyes and gives a grateful groan as the vice-grip on his locs is released, “Thank you.” he absently reaches a hand up to adjust his goggles, then settles it around the base of his lord’s cock, a little twitch rewarding him for it.

The hand on his head doesn’t pull away, though it’s stopped trying to pull his hair out at the roots. Instead Garion is... Straightening them back out. His eyes are distant, his breath in short, needy huffs. But he doesn’t say anything, his metal hand still over his mouth. Einrich doesn’t really have a choice but to keep going eventually. But the illusion is nice. He rubs the rough pad of his thumb in a lazy circle at the base of his cock.

“Hah.” Finally, a soft noise comes from the Rogue Trader, “You’re better at this than I expected. You don’t disappoint.” Fingers gently press at the back of his head, nudging him back to his task, “More.” A small smirk spreads across his face, “And go deeper.”

Einrich smiles, the expression crinkling the corners of his eyes, “I can do that.” He opens his mouth and wraps his lips around him again. After a few slow movements, he swallows… and then takes Garion so deep his nose presses into the fine blonde hairs below his navel. The undignified cry that came out of the Rogue Trader was reward enough, the sudden jolt of his hips–as if he could get any deeper–was a bonus. He pulled back barely an inch and back down again, his eyes closing as he tries to set a quicker pace.

“Oh, fuck, Einrich…!” Garion’s leg wrapped around him tighter; he’s trembling, “W-wait, I can’t–!!” Both hands are suddenly in his hair, his hips jerking rapidly. Is he really– fuck, he is. Einrich groans and rapidly tries to swallow, unable to pull off with Garion’s leg pinning him in place. He gags despite himself, though. Garion gasps after a bit of this and lets go of him, dropping his leg off of his shoulder. Einrich winces and turns his head to cough, tasting the sting of bile and cum in his mouth that he hadn’t fully managed to swallow.

“Fuck… I didn’t mean that deep.” A weak laugh comes from Garion between heavy pants. Einrich clears his throat and begins to say something, but is cut off by a hand on his chin, gently turning his face up, “Are you okay?” Okay? Is he okay? He’s damn lucky Einrich isn’t an impulsive man or he’d get a fist to the face for asking that after forcing him into this. Instead, Einrich smiles at him. “Worried about little ol’ me?”

Garion huffs softly and looks at something on his desk, reaching his hand to grab a small white cloth. It’s a small towel and… it’s warm as he wipes away a few strands of spittle from his lips and chin, “Of course I am. I called you up here because I wanted you, after all.” He chuckles breathlessly, “Now, seriously, are you okay?”

Einrich stares at him, at a loss for words. Garion’s face is flushed, a little shiny with sweat still, and his expression is genuine. This… isn’t what’s supposed to happen. He nods a little instead of speaking. Garion’s eyes search his expression, eyebrows drawing together in what very well could be concern.

“Hm. Okay, I’m going to go get you some water.” Garion fixes his pants and stands up, “You can move around, find somewhere else to sit if you want, but don’t leave this chamber, okay?”

Another nod. He listens to Garion step away and down the stairs from the desk. This is no different from getting out of a beating by bending over for the right man in blue. He tries to think that. He’s angry. He tells himself. He always has to remind himself of this after… shit like this.

He hasn’t been looked at like that in… a while.

“Einrich? I told you that you could get up.”

Garion’s voice breaks through his thoughts and he shakes his head, “Right, sorry, hah, just–” just what? “–just got lost in thought.” He pushes himself up. He’s fine. He reaches for his lho-stick on the desk where Garion had put it. His hand is shaking. Normally by now he’s slipped away back to his berth, away from the prying eyes of anyone but–

“Water first.” Garion holds out a glass to him, “Then smoke.”

The water in the glass is so clear, he’d almost think the damn thing was empty. He takes it and drinks, regardless. Enjoy it while he can. And it’s damn good, rinsing out most of the taste in his mouth. The glass is empty before he realizes it. Garion holds his hand out to take the glass back, setting it on the desk. Then he pulls out an old-looking lighter, the thing rusted and dented, but with a flick of his Lordship’s thumb, it lights up. He lifts the cigar to his mouth and watches the flame lick over the end and reflect off the metal hand shielding it from the gentle breeze of ventilation in the room.

Silently, the little flame is gone and smoke floods his lungs again. Almost immediately, the effect of the lho kicks in, and the anxiety slowly loosens its hold on his brain. Still there, but the grip isn’t as iron anymore.

“Can I touch you?”

Einrich can only imagine the look on his face as he stares at Garion. He blinks once, twice. Garion’s hand is hovering near his arm, but not touching. It’s a series of words he’s never heard put together before. Especially not towards him. Something snaps free in his mind, “What... Why are you asking me that?”

“...” Garion sighs, “Just… humor me. You’re allowed to say no.”

He doesn’t believe him, “No.”

Despite his disbelief, Garion’s hand immediately falls back to his side, “Well, then come sit for a bit. I can tell you’re dropping.”

…Dropping? 

He doesn’t ask, but does follow Garion to one of the lounges in the room, where the man sits and lights up another one of the thinner lho cigarettes, the flame lighting up his gold hair and golden skin for a brief moment of warmth before the cold blue tones of the stars take back over. After a second, Einrich sits near him, arms crossed over his chest. A lungful of smoke pours out of Garion’s mouth. It smells harsh, both sharp and sweet.

“Always wondered what those fancy little things taste like.” He tries to sound casual about it. He’s not confident in it, though.

Garion hums, “Mine are a little different than most, it’s a personal blend with some oils from Janus and some forge ash and a touch of sacred machine oil from Kiava Gamma. Little more bitter than others.”

“Ash?”

Garion shrugs a shoulder, “Old way of padding out lho sticks to last longer back on Stygies VIII. We’d take our rationed sticks, unroll them, and mix in ashes to pad out the amount. Rolled the extra in other papers for later. Not that I need to do that any more, but it tastes weird without it now.”

“...you had to pad lho sticks as a crime lord?” Einrich stares at him.

“Oh, no, this was before that, when I was still working the forges.” Garion leans back and looks at him, head tilting, “I told you that before, didn’t I?”

Oh. Right, he had. The scar on his face, it was from a slag splash, “Ah, my bad. I just…”

“Can’t think straight. I know.” Garion sits up, “Do you want to try it?” He holds out the little cigarette. Einrich eyes it, considering, and then laughs softly.

“I’d be afraid I’d accidentally suck it into my mouth.” He smiles a little, “It’s yours.”

Garion hums softly, “I know a way you can try it without worrying about that. I’ll have to touch you, though.” He pulls the cigarette back.

Einrich knows what he’s talking about. He’s not stupid, after all. His gaze falls to Garion’s lips, that smile made crooked by the pulling of scar tissue. And well, to be fair, he’d only said no before to test if Garion was telling the truth.

“...Forgive my boldness, but… you’re a confusing man, your Lordship.”

“I’ve been called far worse.” He curls a finger, beckoning Einrich closer, “You want a taste or not? Come on.”

…Fuck it. Garion takes a long, deep drag as Einrich moves closer; his larger body eclipsing Garion’s on the lounge as he leans over him. The augmented hand slides around his neck and metal fingers wind through his locs, but don’t pull him when he pauses. Garion holds the drag as Einrich considers before finally closing the distance and pressing their lips together. Garion opens his mouth into it, urging Einrich’s open as well, and smoke spills from the Rogue Trader’s mouth into the Infernus Master’s.

He was right. It was bitter, harsh, but he took it into his lungs easily. It tastes like iron and copper alongside the lho and burning plant, coating his tongue and throat with a powder-taste like, well, ash. A ripple of sensation spreads from his chest and he pulls away with a gasp–short and shallow without much more room in his lungs. It spreads through his limbs and he shudders as he blows it out. Garion’s fingers comb slowly through his hair as he watches him. He was right, definitely stronger than what he’s rationed.

“Fuck…” He mutters with a chuckle, practically laying on top of Garion now.

“Satisfied?”

No. Something hungry and angry in his skull growled. And he wasn’t sure if it was his own, or even if the two feelings were the same voice. Regardless, he nods, “Yeah.”

“Should help you relax some, too.” He keeps running his fingers through the man’s hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp. It’s tempting; to lay on Garion and fall asleep right there. Certainly more welcoming than making the trip back down to his berth in the lower decks or, worse, attempting to go back to work. But it’s too dangerous to fall asleep. He pushes off and lays back on the lounge, resting his arms across the back of it.

“Need any more water?”

“You’ve spoiled me more than enough, I think, Your Lordship.”

Garion’s eyes roll dramatically, “I’m being serious. How’s your throat?”

“Full of smoke and cum.” He laughs, waving one hand dismissively, “I’m fine.”

“...you’re a good liar, you know that?” Garion moves to kiss his cheek, regardless, “I’ve got to finish drafting up a message to Dargonus. Stay as long as you want.” He stands up, smoke pouring from his mouth again, “Thank you and… Sorry.” The last word is muffled by his hand and the lho over his mouth, but Einrich hears it. He stares at the man’s back as he walks away.

“Are you really?” The words come out without his approval, but he can’t take them back.

“Hm?” Garion turns back around.

“Are you really sorry?” His eyes narrow, “Most aren’t.” He’s sure by now that Garion’s put two and two together.

The Rogue Trader shifts his weight. His eyes dart to the other side of the room. The lho-stick in his mouth moves as he chews on the inside of his mouth. He nods.