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"Cold as a witch's tit out here," Horus says as he follows Leman—his brother! One of his brothers has been found, alive and well!—hurrying through the snow to the wooden lodge some ways off from the castle.
Leman glances back and throws him a grin that's all fang. "Not much of that where you came from?"
"Not so much." The cold won't do Horus real damage, he doesn't think, given how sturdy primarchs are meant to be, but it's still not pleasant. "On Cthonia, everyone lived underground."
"That'll do it," Leman says. His boots crunch through the snow and it sprays up around him. "On Fenris, if you're lost in the wilderness, a deep cave system is one of the safest places to rest and recover." A pause that's almost definitely for effect. "Of course, that's only if there isn't a troll already living there."
"Just one problem after another in the Fenrisian wilds," Horus says, playing along. He's looking forward to going hunting with Leman and some of the locals, truth be told. Probably he'll bring Hastur and Tarik along, maybe Ezekyle if he can handle Leman's teasing.
He ducks into the lodge behind Leman and is hit immediately with a blast of warm, humid air. After the frigid temperatures outside it's almost overwhelming. Leman starts shedding clothes immediately, the thick pelts and heavy woolen robes under them, so Horus follows suit. They strip off, rub themselves down with crisp-smelling juniper, and then Leman leads the way into the next room, where a tub big enough for multiple primarchs sits full of steaming water.
"The vlka rebuilt the bath when I came to live among them," Leman says as he steps into the tub.
"Your people love you," Horus notes. He watches Leman sink into the water, utterly unselfconscious, content in the moment.
Leman cocks an eyebrow, looking up at him curiously. "Do yours not?"
"They do now." Horus steps into the water himself, sighing at the tingling heat working its way into chilled extremities. "But they were superstitious people, unsure at first what to do with the strange foundling in their midst."
Leman nods. "Gifts from the heavens can be frightening." He keeps watching as Horus slides into the hot water opposite him, intent and wild and handsome.
They share some features as an inheritance from their father—the brow, the jaw, the angle of the nose—but otherwise they've turned out quite differently. The golden locks on Leman's head find an echo in the thick curls that cover his chest and trail down his belly. Little bars of iron capped with carved bone pierce his nipples and draw attention to them. He's far stockier than Horus, his body soft around the middle with the same layer of padding that lets Fenrisian bears thrive on this world of ice. There's plenty of strength beneath the cushion, Horus knows, and the plumpness is... inviting. It would feel good to hold him close.
"You look hungry," Leman says. "Have we not fed you enough?"
"I could never find fault with your hospitality." That may have been an opening to allow him an excuse for staring, but Horus doesn't want to take it. Wolves are bold, and in that they're alike. "If I'm craving anything, it's more of my host."
Leman's smile broadens until he looks hungry himself, like he too has been waiting for an opportunity like this They're more alike than not. "Well, you know where to find him."
Horus shifts closer, the water rippling around him, and Leman reaches out to embrace him. The combination of softness and strength is every bit as enjoyable as it seemed it would be. And when Leman kisses him, close-cropped beard prickling against his mouth? That's even better.