"You are so quiet, little one."

How could you not be? Stuck between two astartes; It's stifling. Your tongue feels like it's made of lead as they loom over you. Your knees hurt, your robes are opened and expose your front bare for them to see. It's so cold in here, which makes the heat that radiates from them more noticeable.

The one you know, even if barely- his fingers are tightly gripping your hair. He keeps your head up, his touch is firm but not cruel.

"Show him the calmness you've given me."

You were kind to him, and what had begun as a tentative respect grew into something you couldn't name. Those secret moments you shared however, where you would shakily guide his hands, teaching him things astartes shouldn't know; He thinks they're something more than they are.

You warded him, comforted him, and now he seeks to share the protection he thinks you've bestowed on him with the third and last of his squad.

But, you don't know what that is. Other than those private moments with him, you've given him nothing. You have nothing to give, not to an astartes; You feel like he's thinking of you something more. You're just an Imperium priestess from a planet of little renown; A wet, muddy planet with not much to give.

You can try your best, no matter how much it makes your hands shake.

“Ough, the best vampire of that universe. He shall get his meal, and you? Some well deserved rest.” - Ichor

TW // Smut, Oral, Period, Hint of Breeding.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

Whines leave your mouth as you grasp the Great Angel below you that was eating you out. Your hands tugging a bit harshly on his glorious hair that felt like silk between your shaking fingers and legs: body quaking in merciless overstimulation. Eyes unfocused, but stuck on the scene this Angel was putting you through.

His face was painted with your blood. Smeared across his soft cheeks and would be dripping down his chin if he didn’t lick it all up. You would have been disgusted, mostly in yourself for even allowing such a… messy session, but you couldn’t exactly deny your lovers hunger in his eyes. To see that flicker of something primal within them, and to feel on cloud 9 after he would pull you back down on his mouth for a more generous taste. His hands wrapping around your thighs and backside with ease, and pulling you right back into his mouth.

"Do you do this often?"

Titus stands no more than ten or so feet away from you, looking down from a stance close to the entryway. His expression is neutral, but latent tiredness gives his eyes a hooded, lazy appearance. You smile at him from your somewhat stiff position.

"No, but a banquet with a primarch is a bit more noteworthy than my usual fare. My usual work doesn't require fancy dresses, so I'm a bit short on them."

Titus watches as one of the workers pulls at your arm, grabbing at you. You don't have your outer wear on, so it's just the flowing fabric of your blouse that covers your arms. His brow furrows when one reaches close to your shoulder, nearly brushing against the side of your chest.

He has held his tongue well this entire time, notably because you seem unbothered by what he would consider far beyond comfortable closeness; Though there is still a portion of his brain screaming for him to reach for his bolter.

You are under his charge at the moment, after all. To allow you to be harmed in any way would be a slack in his duties.

"Do you do this often?"

Titus stands no more than ten or so feet away from you, looking down from a stance close to the entryway. His expression is neutral, but latent tiredness gives his eyes a hooded, lazy appearance. You smile at him from your somewhat stiff position.

"No, but a banquet with a primarch is a bit more noteworthy than my usual fare. My usual work doesn't require fancy dresses, so I'm a bit short on them."

Titus watches as one of the workers pulls at your arm, grabbing at you. You don't have your outer wear on, so it's just the flowing fabric of your blouse that covers your arms. His brow furrows when one reaches close to your shoulder, nearly brushing against the side of your chest.

He has held his tongue well this entire time, notably because you seem unbothered by what he would consider far beyond comfortable closeness; Though there is still a portion of his brain screaming for him to reach for his bolter.

You are under his charge at the moment, after all. To allow you to be harmed in any way would be a slack in his duties.

"Do you do this often?"

Titus stands no more than ten or so feet away from you, looking down from a stance close to the entryway. His expression is neutral, but latent tiredness gives his eyes a hooded, lazy appearance. You smile at him from your somewhat stiff position.

"No, but a banquet with a primarch is a bit more noteworthy than my usual fare. My usual work doesn't require fancy dresses, so I'm a bit short on them."

Titus watches as one of the workers pulls at your arm, grabbing at you. You don't have your outer wear on, so it's just the flowing fabric of your blouse that covers your arms. His brow furrows when one reaches close to your shoulder, nearly brushing against the side of your chest.

He has held his tongue well this entire time, notably because you seem unbothered by what he would consider far beyond comfortable closeness; Though there is still a portion of his brain screaming for him to reach for his bolter.

You are under his charge at the moment, after all. To allow you to be harmed in any way would be a slack in his duties.