Chapter Text
"There you go."
The fifteenth Primarch's voice was low yet soft, his words reassuring Forrix, physically making his body relax. He could not control his first reaction for the gentle yet still tearing and painful invasion into him — he hissed, tensed, reflexively went still trying to prevent further penetration, but a phrase and a warm palm on his lower abdomen made him loosen up.
"Good boy."
Kydomor dared to open his eyes to look at the Primarch in dim light of his Prospero chambers. His lord was warmly smiling at him, still caressing his bare skin, still not moving — he was trying to help the Iron Warrior get used to the feeling.
His father never indulged him in such a way.
It took him several seconds to realize what he was told and he felt so ashamed of himself at the reaction to the words. Magnus must have been playing games with his mind which Forrix was simply not able to understand — otherwise it would be too difficult to admit how desperate he actually was for any kind of praise-
"You're so beautiful like this."
And then Magnus lowered himself, covering Forrix in his incredible warmth and weight, kissed him deep and long, and made a first thrust.
Forrix whimpered into his mouth.
Something was off with the Primarch's body. Not the absence of body hair or any other kind of imperfection, but something that was showing his utterly inhuman nature. Something Kydomor felt was pulling inside his body, not the immense cock, but something on a more transcendental level.
It felt... magical. To be so close to such a creature, but in contrast with Perturabo Kydomor did not feel any fear or inner nerve-wracking. He felt like he was hugged and fucked by a heavy, warm from the bright sun cloud, so soft that he could not even touch it properly.
The red Primarch peppered his face with quick dry kisses and then went to his neck, leaving there a bite mark and a hickey.
It was a message, Kydomor understood.
"He is looking at you" whispered Magnus under his ear, licking the tip. "Look at him back, look at Ahriman".
Forrix obeyed and turned his head to the table, where were his Primarch and Magnus's first librarian.
The sight together with another thrust and slow rhythm taken by Magnus made him gasp for air and close his eyes again.
But he still saw the picture like it was in front of him. Poor Ahriman with tears in the corners of his eyes was put down on a table, his forearms behind his back held there by Perturabo's grip, his legs spread wide and bent at the knees. He was whimpering and crying out painful moans, looking like there was no such holding back in him as it was in Forrix.
Ahriman still looked pleased though. He was not really trying to free himself from the grip or save his body from another painful thrust, the sounds he made were much rather signs of enjoyment than pain.
They fit so well together. A brief moment of sad envy caused by this realisation crossed Forrix mind.
He could never bring himself to such state of contentment near his Primarch. Every time they engage, he was trying to be quiet, ashamed of his voice and pleasure, knowing too well what kind of consequences it might have for him to interpret his lord's actions wrong. For the sake of his safety he always considered it as a punishment, even if most of the time he was not really sure what it could be for.
"Don't be quiet" Magnus said, slowly taking his hands and placing them on his body. "Reciprocate".
He usually did not. A Primarch would never wish for someone like him to touch him, it was obvious to him, so he never dared. It happened only accidentally, just several times, and thankfully Forrix managed to avoid punishment for that.
He did not know what to do with his hands. He let the palms wander over the red skin, touch soft forearms and broad shoulders, and then he simply put them on the Primarch's neck. He dared to try pulling him closer, and...
...Magnus kissed him again.
Holy Terra what a kiss that was. Soft lips and wet, hot mouth, it felt so right, almost loving, yet still possessive, clearly dominant, showing who follows who here. Forrix melted into it.
His Primarch barely kissed him ever, and when he did, it was rather bites than kisses. Where Magnus was drinking him, savoring his lips like sweet prosperian wine, Perturabo was tearing, biting, rough and quick.
Kydomor took a second to restore his breathing, shared a look from half-closed eyes with Magnus. The Primarch smiled at him and nuzzled his neck again, kissing and sucking tender and a bit sore from the previous bite skin. Forrix quietly moaned at that and hugged Magnus' waist with his legs, answering to another thrust.
For a brief moment his eyes met Perturabo's, and his body went limb, tensed in fear again, so vulnerable without his armor or even clothes. Magnus' kisses and touches felt so far for a second, like he was doing it to someone else, while Forrix was standing bare in front of his lord, covered only with shame and guilt.
He will have to meet the consequences of this. He was enjoying other Primarch's touches, and that was unacceptable. He was faithless to him now, he understood it only from the sight in his Lord`s eyes. His breath was hitched now, hearts pounding loud in his chest, he was in pain all of the sudden. He did not just endured but obviously liked the way the other Primarch, his Lord competitor, his closest friend, treated him.
It all was a test, Forrix suddenly got a thought. And he failed it. He, the first captain of the Legion, failed the trust test.
It must hurt his Lord so much— and that was the moment when he felt hot tears on his face and closed his eyes in shame again.
+Don`t cry+ Kydomor gasped for air at the other`s voice in his head.
How could Forrix not cry? Even if it was not the clear signs of disowning from his father — why did he even agreed to this all in the first place? — he felt too much. Every time the Primarch hot thighs touched his when he went as close to him as possible red and yellow lightings were lighten up in his mind blinding him; every touch felt like he did not have skin at all — only bare flesh opened to the world to take; when Primarch kissed him he felt literal physical ache in his chest, pulling strings of his very being, his very core. He could not hold his tears anymore.
+He likes the sight+
Forrix heard himself moaning at that. For a second it appeared to him like he was sharing a piece of his father pleasure — Magnus definitely did something to his mind — and it was enough for him to come helplessly on the other Primarch`s cock.
He barely remembered what happened next. He felt wet and warm and finally, finally content, full, right, and the soft warm cloud was all around him. He only opened his eyes — only to close it back right there — when he felt heavy warmth pressed to his back and his body, free from the red cloud, now was resting on silk sheets.
Kydomor did not turn his head to look who exactly was touching him.