#yaaaaaaaayyyy!!!!

i love when the primarchs are a bit gross with their lovers. they aren’t human after all, so, sometimes they will be a bit gross or do some inhuman things.

for konrad, he’s… pretty nasty in canon, no? all i can picture is his lover has to be a bit cracked and gross themselves because healing power of love, sure, but, he’s canonly eaten childrens eyeballs (and some of his brothers have eaten human flesh as well, this isn’t me saying they aren’t also totally fucked) and i always picture getting with him to be super intense, and painful, and traumatizing. honestly, all the traitor boys, and some of the loyalists, could have moments of traumatizing their lovers though.

i can only picture him with a mouthful of blood, having messily ripped something apart for dinner, crouched over a corpse, teeth stripping meat from the bones with practiced brutality. it’s warm, warmer than anything he’s tasted in a while, and sweet. mortals are always sweet, like overripe fruit. there’s a step behind him, clumsy, unpracticed, and familiar, not intending to be heard or draw attention, but the primarch still lifts his head and looks at them. nothing really gets past him, or his brothers, sometimes to agonizing lengths.

that tiny little human hovers, frozen like an animal trembling in an accidentally stepped in, but not triggered, bear trap, too afraid to jump out for fear of it snapping shut around them. their breathing comes quick, and sharp, and konrad can smell the sourness of fear, and hunger. oh, yes, they also need to eat tonight.

he tilts his head at them, looking over wounds left by him, wounds left from living in his world, even shallowly, and knows that they really are struggling without his help. intentionally so, cruelly so, but, that’s what he wanted, codependency. no, for them to be dependent on him, surely.

the primarch straightens up from the hunched position, still crouched, and crooks a finger at them, the talons of his gauntlets wet with viscera, inviting them to step out of the trap. come here, listen to me, i demand it.

and they do, a twitchy, jerky step forward. he could cross the room easily, and far faster, but this is nice. this fills him with a deep seated pleasure, a pleasing squeeze low in him, and so curze waits for them to draw closer. they smell good, not clean, but human, and terrified, and somehow aroused. disgusting, his brain thinks, but he likes that just fine. he wonders if they can even smell it.

they get within arms reach, and his hand seizes their arm, wrenching them forward to look down at the… meat on the floor. it was something, once, but now it is a quickly cooling pile of meat and shattered bones, broken beyond any recognition. it’s steaming in the cool air, though, for a little longer, and his lover just stares at it with a blank expression.

the primarch almost coos at them and asks what’s wrong, wants to make them explain, in detail, how they feel staring at something that once shared their shape, but he just grips their chin, forces them to look up, and slots his gore caked mouth over theirs.

and dumps a mouthful of blood into their wanting, and eager mouth. choked, gurgling noises rise up, and they grasp his wrist with both hands, tugging to absolutely no avail. they shouldn’t even try, but it’s nice to see something kick back, at little. he keeps them there, kissing for a few seconds longer, pleased at their twitching, hammering heartbeat, and finally pulls away, forcing their mouth shut, covering their nose.

he is so close that strings of saliva could still connect them if not for his hand. another time, maybe, but konrad finally speaks, voice wet, and low, and demanding.

swallow.