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It wasn’t uncommon for the Mournival to meet, but for it to be with such little notice was unusual and concerning. Loken had been returning to his personal quarters when Torgaddon had caught up with him and told him of the meeting in an exchange so brief that Torgaddon hadn’t even stopped walking. When Loken had tried to inquire about the agenda Torgaddon had brushed it off, telling him it was not a grave matter, and that casual dress was more than appropriate.
Come cleaned up and dressed down were Torgaddon’s parting words, paired with a grin, and Loken had hardly been given an hour to think it over. Part of him was certain that this was just a joke or a ruse, the most recent of many ploys to get him into Torgaddon’s bed. But the meeting place wasn’t Torgaddon’s room, nor was it in one of the usual council rooms. The corridors that Loken walked down were relatively unfamiliar to him, he rarely visited this section of the Vengeful Spirit, and the lack of personnel walking the halls made it almost unnerving. Long shadows clung tightly to the ornate banners hung along the walls and followed his every move, and his footfall sounded unnaturally loud, despite him being without his heavy armor.
He found the correct room. Something felt off, the secrecy behind this sudden meeting left a bad taste in his mouth, and an uneasiness sat heavily in his stomach. It could just be another of Torgaddon’s jokes, but what if- no. He took a deep breath. This was the Mournival, his brothers, and he trusted them. He would come when he was called. He gripped the door handle, the metal cool against his palm, and he opened the door and stepped in with no further hesitation.
The smell of the room hit him instantly. It was heady and rich with scented oils, bergamot and something else Loken couldn’t quite identify. The lighting was low and golden, illuminating a modest-sized room with high ceilings, intricate tapestries decorating three of the four walls with the final, far wall a single large window. And it took only a fraction of a second for him to make out the regal form of the Warmaster, seated on a divan with the endless abyss of space at his back. He sat relaxed, a flowing white robe draped loosely over his lap, hardly covering his great form, and Loken was taken aback by the pure power and beauty that emanated from him.
Loken’s body reacted immediately, and his knees hit the floor. The thin fabric of his pants did nothing to dampen the crack of bone on marble, but he felt no pain. There was no pain to be found from kneeling before his Primarch, only exaltation. Adrenaline prickled under his skin, his heart rate spiked, and his mind raced. He hadn’t expected Horus to be here- he hadn’t-
A familiar chuckle cut through his attempt at comprehending the surprise appearance of his Primarch and Loken turned to see the rest of the Mournival. They sat comfortably and in close quarters on divans set just to the right of the Warmaster, dressed in similar loose white robes. There were decanters of wine and bowls of fruits and nuts and Torgaddon’s smile shone brightly in the low light.
“Relax Garviel, and rise” Horus said, his voice smooth and rich and Loken felt those words in his core. Loken turned back to his Commander and found himself almost unable to truly look at his Primarch. He seemed to glow, as if the golden light that illuminated this room came from him and not the multitude of glow globes.
“I find it somewhat difficult to relax when I am at a loss of what is happening here,” Loken rose to his feet as he replied. He had a few theories racing through his mind, despite how improbable it seemed. But, the lighting and the incense and the robes that barely covered anything certainly built a suggestive picture.
“You’re a sharp man Garvi, you can figure it out,” Torgaddon said, as if he were privy to the content of Loken’s thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, Loken did not miss the sour look Aximand shot at the Captain of the Second.
“It appears that Tarik failed to properly inform you of tonight’s agenda,” Aximand followed.
“If he wasn’t such a starch-arse then he’d have been able to understand my meaning,” Torgaddon said, taking a sip of wine, the smile never once leaving his lips.
“Or perhaps you’re not as clever as you think you are, Tarik,” Aximand shot back easily and Torgaddon’s grin widened.
“You talk as if I am not here,” Loken said, a bit petulantly, and in response Horus laughed. It was a magical sound, sonorous and gilded and Loken fought the urge to fall to his knees in jubilance and weep. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing and reckless thoughts.
“My apologies, Garviel. I had assumed, evidently incorrectly, that Tarik would have given you an explanation of tonight’s agenda,” Horus said, and with a smile still on his lips, he fixed Torgaddon with a pointed look, “It seems that I should have tasked another with this duty.”
“But isn’t this more fun?” Torgaddon protested, “Look, he’s already blushing. It’s just like I told you-”
Abaddon, who has stayed out of the exchange up until this point, cuffed Torgaddon on the back of the head, cutting his words short. The room was silent for a beat, and then Abaddon rose to his feet. His loose robe did little to hide his great form, and his vast expanse of skin, decorated with ink and scars, was on display. Loken felt a not-unfamiliar rush of admiration that often came when he looked at the First Captain, but the heat of arousal that started to crawl under Loken’s flesh was certainly less typical. Sure, Loken had thought of the colossal form of the leader of the Justaerin when he sought a certain type of release, but this was a new context. Loken finally let himself accept the sensual atmosphere built up by the lighting and the fragrance and the way that Torgaddon was running his hand up Aximand’s thigh and under the white fabric and-
Abaddon’s form blocked his view and Loken’s eyes were drawn back to the First Captain. His hair was let down from its normal top-knot and was instead tied back loosely in a braid that fell gently down his back. It was strange to see him in this light -relaxed and sensual- but it was not unpleasant in the slightness and Loken found a great sense of fondness blossom in his chest.
“This is another opportunity for us to show our devotion to the Legion, to the Warmaster. To serve him. To honor him,” Abaddon smiled, sharp and dangerous, and Loken’s heartrate quickened, “To demonstrate our love.”
“You don’t have to join in if you don’t wish to,” Aximand interjected, his voice was gruff and measured, almost apologetic.
“I appreciate that, Horus,” Loken replied, unable to take his eyes off Abaddon. He found it harder than anticipated to string his words together and his mouth felt bone dry, “But I would be a fool not to take any opportunity to honor my Primarch.”
“And Garvi is clearly no fool,” Torgaddon added with a laugh.
Abaddon was close now, their chests touching, and Loken could feel the heat of Abaddon’s skin. Loken did not know fear, but he figured that a moral man might feel such an emotion at the look in Abaddon’s eyes. There was darkness there, deep and profound, and an intensity that Loken respected and admired, but now there was also an unmistakable need. For a fraction of a second, Loken felt like prey.
It was nearly unfathomable to Loken that he was standing this close to Ezekyle Abaddon under these circumstances. He knew what would come next, and his body was preparing itself, but his mind still had a difficult time coming to terms with this situation. If he had been told merely a week ago that he would be kissing the great First Captain Ezekyle Abaddon he would have called such a notion preposterous. And yet here he was.
Loken had known the touch and taste of a few men -Torgaddon’s smirking face flashed through his mind- but intimacy with Abaddon was something completely different. Abaddon was fierce, intense, and all consuming. He moved his lips like he had a war to win, like he had an enemy to slay. He was bloodthirsty, demanding, commanding. A hand grabbed the back of Loken’s head and forced them even closer and Loken let himself be directed- commanded by the First Captain as they clashed together in a flurry of teeth and tongue and hunger.
If Loken had been permitted the time to breathe he would have been breathless, but as it stood, it took all his concentration to not be swept up in the force of Abaddon’s mouth on his. A sharp pinprick of pain stole his focus as Abaddon’s teeth tore into the flesh of his lower lip. A familiar warmth and metallic tang poured into Loken’s mouth, quickly followed by the unfamiliar feel of Abaddon’s tongue, forcefully claiming that vital fluid as his own. And Loken let him, gladly, opening himself up, pressing forward and offering his vitae.
Finally, after a veritable eternity, Loken was released. His lungs burned as he forced air back into them and a rush of warmth spread across his core when he saw that the First Captain was also breathless, although just barely.
“Good,” Abaddon said, his voice impossibly deep as he licked his lips, smearing drops of bright red blood.
For a fraction of a second Loken considered his next move and then lunged forward and smashed his lips back up against Abaddon’s. Pride swelled in his chest when he felt Abaddon’s surprise against his mouth and distantly, he could hear some sort of commotion from Torgaddon, but that was soon all drowned out by Abaddon’s vicious kiss.
Loken had a better hold of this now, and was able to match Abaddon’s intensity, able to swim with the current instead of against it. And Abaddon’s pleasure at this was palpable, from the moan that vibrated his lips, to the hard cock that pressed up against Loken’s abdomen, and again pride warmed Loken’s chest. It emboldened him. He was not an expert in this capacity by any means, but he was a captain for a reason -perceptive and a quick study- so he was quite certain that his next move would be most welcomed. He snaked a hand up to Abaddon’s shaven head, ran his fingers through the loose braid -Abaddon’s hair was infinitely softer than he could have ever imagined- and then pulled. Hard.
Abaddon broke their kiss with a moan, loud and guttural, and Loken felt like he had been kicked in the chest. Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream, taking hold of his hearts and squeezing the thick muscle there until the organs were rendered incapacitated and stuttered.
“Yes, you clearly are no fool,” Abaddon’s voice was low and dangerous as it often was, but there was a smoothness that was new to Loken, arousal seeping into each syllable, and he adored it. He wanted to devour it, to bathe in it, to rip out his own hearts and soak the still beating organs in it.
For a brief moment Loken was shocked at how quickly his rational thought had been tainted by arousal, but Abaddon’s lips were on him again and he didn’t think of much else. Time seemed to slip away, to become liquid and irrelevant, as they pressed against each other. Hand roamed, traversing expanses of hot skin and thick muscle. Abaddon’s hands descended the length of Loken’s back and kneaded the tough muscles of his ass before grinding their pelvises together. Through thin garments their cocks made contact and Loken wanted nothing more than for the contact to be skin to skin. That thought had Loken moaning into Abaddon’s open mouth. He thrusted his hips forward, again pressing his cock against Abaddon’s, searching for fiction. His entire body burned, an insatiable need coalescing at the base of his abdomen and-
“I’d suggest moving to the bed unless you plan to fuck poor Garvi into the cold hard floor,” came Torgaddon’s voice from somewhere, uncharacteristically rough and raw.
“I would enjoy that,” Abaddon growled and Loken found himself easily agreeing. With how he was currently feeling he was sure he would be fine to continue this on any surface. He hadn’t even noticed a bed.
Loken pulled his eyes away from Abaddon to search for said piece of furniture and was distracted by the other half of the Mournival. They were still by the divans, Aximand seated loosely and leaning back as the bulk of Torgaddon’s body was situated between his thighs. Another wave of arousal spiked through Loken at the sight. To see Torgaddon so willingly on his knees, his mouth so eagerly taking Aximand’s cock, and Aximand, so relaxed and undone as he rarely was, face lax with pleasure and eyes glazed with lust. Loken wanted to commit this to memory. He wanted to join them.
And then he was moving. His brain took a moment to catch up with his body and when it did, he found himself being led towards a bed so large that Loken could not believe he had somehow missed it. The bed was massive, easily able to fit four Astartes, and most likely even a Primarch-
Horus.
Loken’s body froze. How had he forgotten the presence of his Primarch? Was it that easy for him to be distracted? Did it take something as simple as a kiss for him to lose focus? He spun around, looking up to his Primarch, ready to repent-
But he was met with a soft smile. Horus was still seated upon his chaise, lounging comfortably, and he looked quite pleased and content, glowing like the brightest star.
“Do not worry, my dear Garviel,” Horus spoke softly, and instantly Loken’s worries were quelled, “Enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you, sir,” Loken replied, bowing his head.
His Primarch had spoken. He needed no more reassurance. Loken let Abaddon tug on his arm and close the last of the distance between them and the bed. He tried not to visibly swoon as Abaddon picked him up and quite literally threw him into the bed. He did laugh however as he bounced once, and so did Abaddon, and then Abaddon was on top of him, tearing at Loken’s clothes as if they were made of paper. In turn, Loken pulled at Abaddon’s robe, his fingers feeling numb and uncoordinated as they pulled at the soft white fabric and then finally Abaddon’s body was bare and his cock was free. It was magnificent, monumental, and heavy, and when it pressed against the skin of Loken’s abdomen it burned.
Loken ground his hips upward so that his own newly unclothed cock could find friction against -well, anything- and it slid across a wall of thick, knotted muscle. It was delicious, but then Abaddon shifted, and their cocks slid against each other, and it was rapturous. Above him Abaddon growled, so deep and low that Loken felt it reverberate through his bones. Abaddon’s hands were scalding as they moved across Loken’s form, not exploring the expanse of flesh and ridge-scars, but conquering, claiming this body as his own and promising so much more.
Loken felt heavy and light at the same time, the arousal fogging his brain and blurring the line between reality and insanity. He pulled Abaddon down and into a bruising kiss. His fingers tangled into Abaddon’s hair and pulled, and he drank the throaty moans that escaped Abaddon’s mouth, the taste sweet and intoxicating and he never wanted to stop. Loken’s lungs burned, his body ached, and he could feel himself rapidly careening towards that cliff. It was so close. Just a bit more-
“Looks like you two are having a good time.”
They broke apart, and through eyes hazy with lust Loken saw Torgaddon appear by the side of the bed, quickly followed by Aximand. Torgaddon’s dark hair was a mess and his lips were swollen, yet his smile spoke of a job well done. Beside him, Aximand looked quite content. They were both fully naked now, magnificently crafted bodies on display and shining with a thin sheen of sweat. Loken felt a shift in the mattress as Torgaddon climbed across the expanse of silk sheets towards them and watched as Torgaddon’s gaze slid between one half of the Mournival.
“Why don’t you give Garvi a little break?” Torgaddon said, voice smooth and sly and Loken was about to pull Abaddon back down onto him because he felt that if he had a break now he might truly break, but he was beaten to the punch when Torgaddon dragged Abaddon into a kiss. And Loken found himself unable to look away. They fought each other, but as brothers who sparred with too much passion, not as enemies on the battlefield. He watched Torgaddon smile as he nipped at Abaddon’s upper lip and then easily react to the flurry of teeth and tongue that Abaddon responded with. Once again, Loken committed the sight to memory. And once again, the desire to join in was intense.
Suddenly Abaddon’s weight was no longer above him and in a blur Abaddon was pinning Torgaddon to the bed. For a fraction of a second Torgaddon was too stunned to counter, his dark eyes wide with surprise, but it quickly passed and he was moving again, strong arms forcing Abaddon’s face to meet his. Kissing passionately, Torgaddon pulled at Abaddon’s hair as they fought for dominance, and the way they moved was entrancing, fierce and smoothly choreographed, seemingly well practiced. Loken found himself wondering how often they had laid together over the years, how well they must know each other, how good it must feel to be with someone whom you know so intimately. It wasn’t jealousy or envy that he felt, but something not too far removed.
“Are you doing alright?” Aximand asked, appearing at Loken’s side.
“I am,” Loken replied, sitting up. He suddenly felt quite lightheaded, but he figured this was unsurprising. A large portion of his blood was currently being shunted elsewhere and it was not hard to forget how close he had been, “And you seem to be doing quite well.”
And truly Aximand did. There was a contentment that shone from Aximand, his face ruddy from pleasure. Loken looked down, briefly, to see Aximand soft between his legs.
“Torgaddon can be quite talented with his mouth,” Aximand explained, entirely unnecessarily, “As I’m sure you know intimately.”
Loken chuckled, he did indeed know this. They sat in relative silence for a moment, and as Aximand watched the other two captains bite at each other, Loken watched Aximand. This close, and with no worry about being caught staring, Loken was able to grasp just how similar Aximand was to their Primarch. The beauty and strength behind his bone structure, perfect in its construction and only marred by a large but faded scar streaking across his scalp. Being this close to perfection, with arousal hanging heavy in the air and burning through his veins, made Loken’s body ache.
“It would be a waste if we were to sit here idly while those two enjoy themselves,” Loken said, doing his very best to keep his voice steady.
“Are you coming on to me, Garviel?” Aximand asked, his words held a joking tone, but his eyes were alight with desire.
“Treat me right, and I just might.”
Aximand’s palm was warm and callused as it held Loken’s cheek and guided their faces close. From this new closeness, Loken could see the array of small scars that were engraved into the skin of Aximand’s face, pale and uneven, not unlike the scores that were meticulously buffed out of their armor after battle. But these marks were permanent -although they faded in time- until death and decay took them away, and until then, Loken was ready to memorize their formation. A small and faded white line, straight and true, cut through Aximand’s bottom lip and Loken found that he could feel its presence as their lips connected.
Aximand’s movements were slow and deep, and a respite from the intensity of Abaddon’s lips, yet for a moment Loken felt wrong footed. It was a substantial change in pace, but after a moment Loken was able to fall into a comfortable rhythm. It was simply a new pattern to learn and Loken was more than happy to do so. Aximand tasted of fruit and wine, and Loken was sure that Abaddon had tasted similarly but he hadn’t had the luxury to appreciate it, and blood tended to be an overpowering taste. But in this moment, with the leisurely pace of Aximand’s lips and tongue, Loken was able to drink in the sweetness and bitterness and enjoy it. Loken tilted his head just so and pressed his tongue in further, searching for the taste of Little Horus Aximand amongst the other flavors and what he found was quite exquisite.
When they broke apart they took their time, allowing their lungs to fill as they held each other’s heady gaze. After a minute, Aximand moved, reaching to the side, and produced a bottle of oil. Aximand opened his mouth, ready to ask a question that Loken already had an answer for, so instead of waiting, Loken opened his legs and beckoned his fellow captain forward.
Aximand’s fingers were thick -thicker than Torgaddon’s- and as robust as the rest of him, but with the lubricant he was able to slide one finger in with relative ease. At the intrusion, Loken let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and Aximand was there to drink it down. Loken let himself relax and melt and lose himself between the softness of those lips and the rhythmic action of that digit. Aximand’s tempo was slower than Loken was used to, and his movements more staccato, altogether unfamiliar to Loken but quickly becoming known. And it felt good, most importantly. The Fifth Captain was clearly skilled and well-practiced and seemed quite eager to make Loken feel good.
They pulled back again, enough so they could draw breath, but not far enough that Loken couldn’t feel the heat of his fellow captains’ breath on his face. There was a closeness and an openness between them that was new, as if a wall between them had been felled and they were connected, both physical and otherwise, bonded by more than battle and the vow of the Mournival.
“Is this a regular occurrence?” Loken asked quietly.
Aximand shrugged, not deviating from his task at hand as he replied, “Not necessarily regular, nor often, but certainly not uncommon.”
Loken nodded, leaving room for further elaboration.
“We are called when Horus requests,” Aximand paused, reflecting, before adding, “It’s never a mandatory event.”
Loken raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t the first time this evening that Aximand had made that clear, “Have you declined the request?
“There are times when I have turned down the invitation, yes,” Aximand replied, a smile grew upon his lips and Loken watched that small white scar move, “And some nights I sit by the Commander and simply watch those two buffoons.”
Loken cast his gaze across the expanse of fine silks at where the other half of the Mournival lay, a tangled mass of limbs and passion. There was blood on Abaddon’s lips, Torgaddon’s eyes shone brightly, and their bodies moved in tandem. Loken enjoyed this new perspective, to be able to watch Torgaddon’s full form be enraptured in pleasure, to see how his bulking muscles flexed and his back arched and chest heaved.
“They do put on quite a show,” Loken acknowledged, feeling a shiver of arousal not solely brought on by the undulating digit inside of him, and Aximand chuckled, a deep, warm sound.
“Then I think we should as well,” Aximand replied.
Loken looked past Aximand, towards their Primarch where he sat amongst the stars. Their gazes met, and a battle inside of Loken roared, pitting the intense desire to continue looking into those beautiful eyes against the instinctive action of averting his gaze. In the end, it was not a hand around his cock nor another finger inside of him that caused him to look away, but the loving smile that graced Horus’ lips, for it was too charming and breathtaking and altogether too much for Loken to bear. As he cast his eyes back down, its beauty still haunted him, and closing his eyes did nothing to erase that visage from his mind. He knew he would be touched for weeks, and he would have it no other way.
“Does it feel different,” Aximand whispered, breath hot against the shell of Loken’s ear, “Knowing that the Commander is watching?”
Loken’s voice broke around one simple word, “Yes.”
It was the truth. His hearts beat wildly in his chest and pleasure bubbled up inside of him, threatening to boil over. The weight of Horus’ presence, his attention, his invitation, his desire. Loken ached to honor him. He bit back a moan as Aximand’s finger twisted just right inside of him and caused a wave of pleasure to wash over him.
“Then show him,” Aximand breathed, not entirely an order but Loken would have died before disobeying. He was so close. He wanted to- he needed to show Horus - desperately- he felt that his life depended on it-
But then Aximand pulled away, and in his current state Loken could barely follow his movements until suddenly he felt an exquisite heat enveloping his cock. That mouth that had been soft and warm and tasted of fruit and wine and Aximand was now wrapped around his cock, moving fast and deep and again this was a new rhythm but Loken didn’t need to learn it just yet- he just needed more.
Loken bent forward, reaching forward, hands searching for a lifeline amongst the pleasure. His fingers scraped over diaphoretic skin pulled taut over bulging muscles and gouged by old ridge-scars, and finally he found purchase at the back of Aximand’s head. He held his fellow captain tightly, his close-chopped nails breaking skin and he wondered -frenetically- if he pressed hard enough could he add to that constellation of scars? Could he leave a mark on his brother-captains that would persist until death? Could they do the same to him? Would it mean anything?
Loken pulled Aximand even closer, forcing himself deeper, and around him Aximand moaned. It reverberated throughout every cell of his being and Loken felt himself break. He bit back a grunt as a blinding orgasm crashed over him. And Aximand swallowed him down, moving gently around Loken’s cock, coaxing him through it until it was overstimulation and Loken pushed at Aximand’s shoulders. Loken’s limbs felt like lead, and it wasn’t enough force to move the mountain that was Horus Aximand, but the Fifth Captain pulled back regardless, kneeling between Loken’s legs and Loken laid back and fought to catch his breath and return to reality.
“Aximand, you devious bastard,” Abaddon’s deep voice washed over them, disrupting some of the post-orgasmic serenity that Loken was basking in, “You stole him away.”
Loken blinked back tears that had failed to fall as the two other members of the Mournival came into focus. Both Abaddon and Torgaddon looked a mess, Abaddon’s hair had been torn from its braid and now hung loosely behind him in a black waterfall and Torgaddon’s neck was covered in already healing wounds that were suspiciously shaped like the bite of an Astartes.
“You seemed otherwise preoccupied,” Aximand replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and offered up a smile that was indeed quite devious and nothing like Loken had ever seen on him. It was a devastatingly good look for him.
Abaddon’s eyes darkened, and through his post-orgasmic haze Loken truly worried that a fight would break out right there. But instead, after a tense moment, the First Captain pulled Aximand forward into a bruising kiss. Loken could almost feel the force of their lips meeting, and it looked as if Abaddon was attempting to devour his fellow captain. Aximand’s hand shot up to grab at Abaddon’s bicep, his grip powerful and desperate and as if he were trying not to be swept away by the intensity that was Ezekyle Abaddon. It was a deeply erotic display and Loken wondered if he had looked similar when at the mercy of Abaddon’s lips.
The show was over too soon, and when Abaddon pulled back, he licked blood from his lips and Loken could empathize greatly with the dazed expression that marked Aximand’s face. Aximand’s grip on Abaddon’s bicep loosened and his hand traveled up the tattooed skin of Abaddon’s arm, up his neck, and rested against his cheek. It was a surprisingly gentle action after such a forceful kiss, and to Loken’s shock and delight, Abaddon leaned into Aximand’s palm. There was an unspoken intimacy between the two captains, and Loken felt himself unprepared for the depth of emotion within Aximand’s heavy lidded eyes. Loken felt like he was intruding on something, despite the fact that Aximand was still between his thighs.
“Ezekyle may or may not have been angry that I took the initiative and beat him to you,” Torgaddon cut in with a grin, his teeth a blinding white, “And now that Horus has taken his turn, he’s quite irate. Just because he is the First Captain, he thinks that he’s entitled to being first for all things.”
Abaddon pulled away from Aximand and smacked Torgaddon’s ass, hard, the sound of it echoing throughout the room.
“Tarik, I will destroy your ass if you don’t shut up,” Abaddon growled, and Loken felt the reverberation of his deep voice within his bones.
Torgaddon seemed to feel something similar as his eyes lit up at the threat, “I’d like to see you try.”
And in return, Abaddon looked serious, threatening, and exceptionally appealing, “I will hold you to that.”
Torgaddon did not look displeased by that in the slightest. But it seemed that Abaddon wouldn’t be acting on that threat just yet, because the First Captain turned his attention back to Loken and Aximand. He was still for a moment, as if considering his next move- the best angle of attack, and then he addressed Aximand.
“It was nice of you to prepare Garviel for me, but you’d be wise to move aside now. Unless you want your men to see you limping tomorrow.”
Aximand shrugged and moved out of the way. He did, however, lean forward and plant one more deep kiss to Loken’s lips before moving out of reach, leaving the unique taste of Aximand and himself on his tongue as Abaddon’s great form settled in front of him. Loken hardly had the time to miss the warm, solid presence of Little Horus before Abaddon’s great bulk took his place, kneeling between Loken’s open legs and towering over him.
“Debauched is a good look for you, Garviel,” Abaddon said, his voice a deep rumble. Loken felt his face burn at the First Captain’s words, but he held Abaddon’s gaze. He opened his hips wider, the thick muscles there pulled taut, and in response Abaddon grinned.
“Aren’t you eager,” Abaddon said, pupils so dilated his eyes were black, and he pressed two fingers into Loken. His movements were brisk and rough and practiced and Loken keened at the intrusion. Abaddon’s digits were large, and the additional stretch burned and lit new arousal deep within Loken.
“Our Little Horus did a good job,” Abaddon said as he pulled his fingers out. Loken watched in amusement as Torgaddon handed Abaddon the bottle of oil without being asked, and then Loken was unable to watch anything else aside from Abaddon lathering the oil onto his cock. It was mesmerizing. How the tendons on the back of his hand rippled as he fisted his cock, how said cock shone in the golden light- oh Terra he was more than proportional.
Abaddon smiled, beautiful and hungry, and his eyes were wild, “Are you prepared?”
Loken smiled and relished the way Abaddon shivered when he replied, “Yes sir.”
“Then turn around and get on your knees,” Abaddon barked out, an order, and Loken did as he was told, his pulse roaring in his ears. Adrenaline coursed through his body, anticipation made his thighs quiver and between his legs he could already feel himself starting to harden again. He twitched as more oil was applied and then Abaddon’s heat was at his back, his hands gripped his hips, and for a breath, everything was still. And then Abaddon thrust into him with all the blessed power of an Astartes. It was intense and Loken felt his body strained to accommodate the sheer size of the First Captain.
Once he was fully sheathed, Abaddon stilled behind him. His great bulk was laid across Loken’s back, weighty and as natural as the artificial gravity of the Vengeful Spirit, and in that moment, there was nowhere else Loken would rather be. He felt like he belonged here, truly, as part of the Mournival. Behind him, Abaddon made a breathy sigh, just barely there, but Loken heard it and it was so terribly charming. Affection for his fellow captain spread throughout his chest, they were connected physically and otherwise and the magnitude of that threatened to sweep him away under a torrent of emotion. He would die for his brothers, for these men that he had vowed his service and his life to. He would love them like he had loved no one before.
Abaddon’s grip on his hips tightened and he began to move. The pace he set was efficient, a perfect mix of speed and force that left Loken feeling hollowed out in the best way possible. It was exquisite and consuming, searing hot, and Loken bit his lip so hard he could taste blood.
Torgaddon’s dexterous hands coaxed Loken’s head up and his skilled tongue licked the blood from Loken’s lips, “You don’t have to hold back, Garvi. Our beloved Warmaster quite enjoys it when we’re loud.”
Loken stared at his friend as his pleasure-addled brain tried to parse out Torgaddon’s words, and when he did, he quickly turned his gaze up to the heavens and watched a perfect smile cross his Primarch’s full lips.
“Tarik speaks the truth,” Horus’ voice was smooth as it washed over Loken’s body, simultaneously soothing the fire in Loken’s nerves and feeding the flames, “Let me hear you sing the praises of your fellow brothers. Tell me how you feel to be given this chance to praise me.”
And Loken would not dream of denying his Primarch this, but he found himself incapable of coordinating the functions necessary for speech when Horus shifted in his chair and his robes opened across his lap. His Primarch was perfect in every aspect, Loken knew this, but he could never have been prepared to gaze upon all of him in all its glory, large and magnificent and singular in its splendor. He was unworthy, ill-prepared, and lust and love surged through his veins so thickly he could barely think.
“Are you not going to answer him?” Torgaddon said, his joking tone edged with the slightest touch of warning.
With great effort, Loken shook himself out of his delirium. He pulled his gaze downward and focused on his Primarch’s feet and forced his body to cooperate as he laced words together with immense difficulty.
“I feel honored,” Loken finally replied, and Abaddon slammed his hips forward with increased vigor.
The pace that Abaddon set was ruthless, fucking into him with passion and brutality and purpose that was so very much in character and aligned with what Loken admired in the First Captain. As quickly as Loken had regained some form of composure and coherent thought it was ripped from him. He found it impossible to say quiet -if he had wanted to- and Abaddon’s name fell easily from his lips, scattered haphazardly amongst other phrases that he would rarely -if ever- utter. In return Abaddon growled back, his voice so deep that Loken felt his words more than he heard them, reverberating through his bones and compounding the arousal that he felt.
Reality slipped from his grasp and nothing existed except the First Captain behind him- inside of him, and the perfect presence of his Master. Loken grasped for something- anything to keep his body tethered to reality as pleasure began to overwhelm his body and his mind and he was dimly aware of the sheets ripping between his fingers. It wasn’t enough, he was slipping away, losing himself, and through the haze he just barely felt pressure at the back of his neck. It was warm and nebulous and then there was the sharp pain of teeth cutting through skin and suddenly his mind was clear.
“Fuck,” he groaned through clenched teeth. The familiar tang of iron was sharp and the familiar heat unique to fresh blood spilled down his back, and he could only imagine how his First Captain looked now, teeth and lips stained red with his blood.
“Ezekyle,” Loken heard himself beg, but for what he wasn’t entirely sure. He just knew he needed something- anything- everything- he needed-
“Fuck, Garviel-” Abaddon replied, his voice unnaturally raw and tight and Loken wished he could see what kind of expression was painted upon Abaddon’s beautiful features. He felt a pang of loss for missing what was surely a beautiful sight, but he was certain there would be another opportunity to gaze upon the First Captain’s face as he was taken by pleasure.
“Ezekyle,” Loken moaned again because he could feel how much Abaddon enjoyed the sound of his name falling from Loken’s lips, and Loken couldn’t hold back a giddy smile as he felt the First Captain fall apart behind him.
The pace of Abaddon’s thrusts was erratic, his grip on Loken’s hips tightened and tore skin, and the sound that was pulled from deep within Abaddon’s chest made Loken’s twin hearts stutter. Loken moaned as an exquisite heat filled him, spreading from his abdomen throughout every cell of his being. Again, the thought that he was this close with a man he had admired for so long crossed his mind, and it was still so illogical and he wondered if he would ever fully come to terms with it.
They were still for a moment, bodies hot and shaking with exertion, and then Abaddon began to move, peeling his weight off of Loken and pulling out. Loken tried and failed to hold back a whine as Abaddon’s cock left him gaping and shockingly empty. Abaddon’s large bulk crashed down onto the bed beside him, his chest heaving with exertion, his face flushed, and hair a mess of black silken strands that spread across the sheets like tendrils of inky space. Gently, to ease his aching hips, Loken lay down beside the First Captain, his own chest struggling to contain his hearts and lungs.
“Fuck Garviel,” Abaddon repeated, rolling close and capturing Loken’s lips in an uncharacteristically soft kiss, “Fuck.”
Loken kissed back, failing to keep the smile off his lips. A post-orgasmic Abaddon was surprisingly affectionate, peppering kisses to Loken’s face and neck and hands roaming over his sweaty skin in a gentle manner that was the antithesis to how he was only minutes ago. Loken melted into the touch, soaking up the First Captain’s affection and trying to soothe the building and aching need for stimulation. And then two new hands joined the mix and, familiar and devious, traveling down Loken’s back and hips and over frayed nerve endings. Torgaddon’s hands eventually landed on Loken’s ass and Loken stifled a moan as Torgaddon slipped two fingers inside of him.
“Fuck indeed Garvi, it’s been too long since I’ve felt this warmth,” Torgaddon said, and Loken’s cock throbbed in keen interest.
“It’s been less than a week, you horny bastard,” Loken replied. He tightened himself around Torgaddon’s fingers and savored the way that his friend’s breath caught in response. Sure, he had called Torgaddon a horny bastard -and it was an apt name- but right now Loken felt just the same, and he was devastated when Torgadon withdrew his digits and pulled away.
“An eternity, truly. And I would love nothing more than to hear your pretty voice call out my name as I fuck you into the next star system. However, our very own Little Horus has told me, on many occasions, that he has been quite eager to know this part of you-” and then he dropped his voice an octave in a way that always made Loken shiver, “- intimately.”
With movements slowed slightly by the arousal that was thick in his veins, Loken looked around for the man in question and found him by the couches. He had gotten up from the bed and was having a drink of wine and was now glaring at Torgaddon with a look that could kill a mortal man.
“That information was not for you to share,” Aximand replied with a frown and Loken watched in awe as a deep blush settled high on Little Horus’ cheekbones. It was exceedingly endearing and Loken gave his fellow captain a smile.
“That pleases me greatly,” Loken said, “I have enjoyed becoming close with you this evening and this would be a most welcomed continuation.”
Aximand took a long drink of wine, maintaining eye contact with Loken the entire while, and then efficiently closed the distance to the bed.
“You do look quite striking like this, Gavriel,” Aximand said, running a hand along Loken’s back, his skin starting to heal just as quickly as Aximand’s nails broke it. The heat from Aximand’s touch and his quickly congealing blood was tantalizing, but infuriatingly Aximand’s hand stopped just short of his ass, “However, I think I want you on your back.”
Loken stretched and turned over, careful to turn away from where Abaddon lay, as he was now being pestered by Torgaddon again and Loken didn’t want to get in the way of whatever was about to transpire. Aximand’s body was solid and hot, and he pressed a thick thigh up against Loken’s groin, giving Loken much needed friction against his neglected cock. Loken let out a moan at the pleasant relief and was delighted when Aximand bent down to kiss him.
The Captain of the Fifth hungrily swallowed Loken’s moans and Loken moved to meet his intensity. They stayed like that for a moment, Loken rocking his hips up against Aximand’s thigh and pressing his tongue into Aximand’s hot mouth, until Aximand pulled away. He stared down at Loken with naked hunger, a look not too dissimilar from what Loken had seen from Abaddon, and it was a dreadfully good look on Aximand. Before Loken could ask- or beg, Aximand had positioned himself between Loken’s legs, grabbed Loken’s thighs, and pressed himself inside in one firm thrust. Aximand let out a punched out moan as he settled deep inside of Loken.
“A first-class feeling isn’t it, Little Horus?” Torgaddon laughed, and before he could say much else, Abaddon shoved him into the bed.
“He’s quite annoying,” Aximand said with a fond smile, “I don’t know why the Warmaster keeps inviting him.”
Loken returned the smile, “He has been known to be talented with his mouth,” he said as a moan from Abaddon proved his point.
Aximand gave a soft chuckle and then focused his attention back to his own task at hand. His thrusts were hard and deep and Loken felt every delectable inch. Their bodies move together, fluid, and Loken lost where his being ended and where Horus Aximand began as they became an amalgamation of euphoria. Each thrust, every movement, built on his arousal, pouring endorphins into the already raging fire of need that burned through his veins. A particularly well placed thrust had Loken screaming Aximand’s name.
“Fuck,” Aximand breathed and lunged forward to bruise Loken’s lips with a kiss. It was brutal, with force and teeth and tongue, and Loken eagerly let himself drown in it. Fuck indeed, he was getting nearly there.
Aximand’s lips left his and Loken was disoriented by the loss, he was unable to breathe as if his lungs were unable to draw in air. But quickly the Fifth Captain’s lips returned, to his jaw, to the pulse of his carotid, and then to the shell of his ear, “Our Commander is still watching you, Garviel,” Aximand whispered, his voice deliciously smooth, “Can you feel his eyes on you?”
“Yes,” Loken moaned.
“Can you imagine if it were him inside you?”
It wasn’t a new line of thought for Loken, but never had the possibility seemed this close. He imagined his Primarch’s cock pressing into him, splitting him, making him whole, showing him what he was truly made for. He would take his Lord down to the hilt because he would honor Horus with nothing less. It would be too much -but never enough- and he would thank the Emperor for being blessed with the opportunity to be filled with perfection. His abdomen would bulge with the sheer majesty of the cock inside of him, and when Horus came, it would fill every space in Loken’s body with the most precious seed in the universe. Loken’s body shook at the thought, arousal hitting him so hard his lungs froze and hearts clenched. He was Horus’, forever and always, and he would do anything to prove that devotion.
“Open your eyes, Garviel,” came Horus’ order and Loken pried open his eyes that he hadn’t noticed he had closed, to see the face of his Primarch above him. Distantly, he knew that it was Horus Aximand, but at this moment all he could focus on was those beautiful wide set eyes and that firm, straight nose, and the look of love and adoration. Radiant and perfect, marred only by a faded scar across his scalp and a constellation of small scars that Loken had yet to memorize but didn’t have the faculties to fully register.
“Show me how you honor your Lord. Show me your love,” His words were heavy and contractual and Loken didn’t dare disobey.
Loken shook has pleasure overcame him, white hot and piercing, completely overwhelming and Aximand continued fucking him through it, praising him the entire time. It was nothing like Loken had ever felt, a mixture of all Loken had ever dreamed of and what had always been unattainable, and full of love for his Primarch so strong that it hurt. It was painful in the best possible way and it was like he was being torn apart and built anew. It was more than he was built to comprehend and his sole purpose. And it was finite and slowly ebbing away.
Breathe shattered through his chest as he regained awareness and he saw again his fellow captain above him. An affectionate smile graced Aximand’s near perfect lips and Loken returned it in turn. Loken felt like he should say something, words of thanks or encouragement, but he found himself rather unable to string two words together. So instead, he relaxed and looked up to watch the face that he now fully knew was Aximand’s as he continued to fuck him. He was beautiful, not just because of his likeness to their Primarch, but because he was Horus Aximand, the devil dog of war, his close counsel and brother.
He reached up and drew Aximand’s face down so that their lips met. Loken traced that scar with his tongue and let Aximand pant into his mouth. He traced the mountains and valleys of thick muscles across Aximand’s back, worshiping his body as he deserved, and drew their bodies together so they were as close as physically possible. Their skin was slick with sweat and every point of contact burned. And Loken could feel that the end was coming quickly, Aximand’s breath came short and fast, and through his chest, Loken could feel the thundering of Aximand’s hearts.
“Your turn, dear Horus,” Loken whispered, his voice pitched in the way that he knew drove Torgaddon wild, and he was pleased to see it have a similar effect on the Captain of the Fifth.
Aximand growled, from deep within his chest, and it only took a few more forceful thrusts. With a gruff groan that may have been barely coherent Cthonic, Aximand finished inside of him, and Loken bathed in the pleasant warmth that flowed within him. For a moment, they were still, sweat drying and heart rates returning to baseline, before they detached. Boneless and sated, they laid down together on the silk bedding, bodies pressed close. Aximand’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes catching the golden light, and for the first time Loken noted how long his eyelashes were. It was simple and insignificant and did nothing to improve Aximand’s strength in battle, but Loken couldn't help but note how it added to Aximand’s appeal. The desire to kiss him struck Loken, but now that the adrenaline and arousal was waning, a strange embarrassment came with that thought, so instead he turned his gaze away.
He was surprised to see that Abaddon was seated near them, combing a hand through his now unruly mane. The desire to offer to help Abaddon comb his hair came with that same embarrassment and Loken felt like he was going insane. He looked away from Abaddon, and only then noted that Torgaddon was suspiciously absent-
“It’s a good trick that Horus likes to use,” Torgaddon’s face suddenly entered Loken’s field of vision, “You should see how well it works on Ezekyle.”
“As if you are exempt from its effect, Tarik,” Aximand replied and Torgaddon did not try to deny it. Instead, he changed the topic by leaning down and peppering kisses to Loken’s lips and cheeks and neck.
“You were truly stunning this evening Garvi,” Torgaddon said, completely earnest and without a hint of ridicule.
“I concur,” Aximand followed, and pressed a chaste kiss to Loken’s temple. It was soft, sweet, and Loken’s cheeks burned. He wondered if the others had felt this embarrassment when they had been new to the Mournival, and if it would soon pass.
Torgaddon’s hand traced down his chest, his touch heavy and loving, “Will you recover enough for one last round?”
Loken wanted to say yes, he truly did, however he took stock of his condition, and he could not lie. He was apparently not used to this form of exertion and the fatigue that clung to his bones was shocking. It was hard enough to keep his eyes open.
“It pains me to say this, Tarik, but no.”
“It’ll have my way with you some other time then,” Torgaddon replied, and leaned in to steal a hungry kiss that left Loken breathless.
“You’ll get used to it,” Aximand said from his other side, “We are glad to have you finally join us in this.”
“Ezekyle quite literally tore your clothing off!” Torgaddon laughed and to Loken’s utter surprise, Abaddon looked embarrassed. His mouth formed what could only be described as a pout, and a rosiness that was not associated with exertion spread across his cheeks. Loken felt the burning desire to see the full array of Abaddon’s expressions, through any means.
“Little Horus had it in his head that you were a prude,” Abaddon tried to get the attention off of himself, and it worked. It was Aximand’s turn to look thoroughly embarrassed, redness returned to his cheeks with full force. He tried to get up, likely to get some more wine, but Torgaddon tackled him back down without much of a fight.
“He wouldn’t listen when I would regale him with tales of how you begged for my cock,” Torgaddon said as he nipped at Aximand’s ear and then narrowly dodged Aximand’s fist.
Loken frowned, “For your sake Tarik, I hope you’re joking.”
“I wish he was,” Abaddon gave an exasperated sign, “But I have heard him brag one too many times about-”
“Oh, so you enjoyed the other times? It was just once where you thought it was too much?” Torgaddon laughed and Loken had just about enough of this. He kicked out and his foot made contact with Torgaddon’s chest. Unprepared, the Captain of the Second was sent sprawling back a few feet and landed on his back with a quiet oof.
“That information was not for you to share,” Loken stated and tried to ignore how petulant he sounded.
Torgaddon’s laugh sounded sufficiently painful, but Loken would not let him get away with just a kick to the ribs. He would think up a suitable punishment for Torgaddon, but at a later date. He was feeling entirely too exhausted for much else than rest, and it appeared that Abaddon also felt the need to enact some punishment and less than gently fell on top of Torgaddon. They wrestled halfheartedly for a minute but seemed to quickly lose interest and they found themselves back with the other half of the Mounival.
Abaddon pressed himself flush to Loken’s side, snaking an arm underneath Loken’s head. Torgaddon laid beside the First Captain, half on top of him, and they started speaking softly. Aximand stayed silent, eyes closed, and body relaxed, and Loken would have thought him asleep if not for the small circles he was drawing with his fingers across Loken’s abdomen. Loken felt his eyes become heavy and he was just about to slip into slumber when a low, powerful voice washed over him.
“I would ask you to join me, Garviel, however it seems that you have been thoroughly worn out."
Loken’s eyes snapped open at the sound of his Primarch’s voice and was startled to see Horus standing at the foot of the bed. His white robe still loosely wrapped around his regal form, hanging on for dear life with a belt made of interlocking gold links and unable to hide the magnificent form of his erection.
“Sir, I-”
Horus laughed, “Don’t worry Garviel. There will certainly be another chance," he smiled, and instantly relief and gratitude washed over Loken.
“Thank you my Lord,” Loken replied, and he allowed himself to relax back into the bed and the warm embrace of the Mounival.
“Ezekyle, will you join me?”
“Without question,” Abaddon replied and the look of pure adoration upon his face was nakedly apparent and Loken thought that he had never seen the First Captain so beautiful. Abaddon untangled himself from the rest of the Mounival and Torgaddon managed to give his ass a quick slap before he slipped off the bed. He turned and gave Torgaddon an angry look, but it was much too fond to be intimidating.
Beside the Warmaster, Abaddon stood, a living demigod and his loyal warrior. It was a stunning view and Loken wished he had the talents of a remembrancer so that he could immortalize this. Horus leaned down to press a kiss to Abaddon’s forehead and Abaddon melted into it. Again, it wasn’t jealousy or envy that warmed Loken’s chest, but an intense desire to join, and to be the direct recipient of his Primarch's love.
But that would have to wait.
Torgaddon scooted over and took Abaddon’s place at Loken’s side. A strong arm wrapped around Loken and in turn he easily rested his head against Torgaddon’s breast. Loken’s eyes slid closed again, the beat of Torgaddon’s hearts and Aximand’s warmth working in tandem to lull him into a restful sleep.
~*~
When Loken awoke a few hours later he could hear the sounds of pleasure from an adjacent room, Abaddon’s deep moans mixed in with the Warmaster’s low, sonorous tone. Loken knew he would have to be more prepared next time. He would have to train harder to keep up with his fellow brothers and prove his worth as part of the Mournival. And he looked forward to it.