He thought he'd never see him again. This one good thing, this one thing of his own, and he up and left it like the duty-bound fool that he is. But Terry -- a mere mortal, and still able to work miracles that Roboute couldn't -- braved the Void and the Warp to find him.
He won't make that mistake again, he tells himself. He has lost so much, he has regretted so much. Throne help anyone and anything that thinks they can take Terry from him now that he had him back. The ruinous powers, the Imperium, his own damned Father.
It would damn them both to speak those words, and so he does not. He hopes his devotion comes across instead in his touch, in the heat of his skin, in the beat of his hearts. And in the words he can say.
"And I am yours," he rumbles.
His hands wrap around Terry's hips, and he lifts out of the water, uncaring of the wave he sends across the tile as he sets him down on the edge of the pool.
"My Silver. My treasure." He leans in to kiss him, and then -- gently pushes Terry backwards, and his thighs apart and up. He smiles, eager and shy at once.
Terry's perceptive, and has distant memories of that dream he shared. He'll have to be careful with how he speaks here, especially when others are watching but even if they aren't. That's alright. He can read between the lines and he has no doubt that Guilliman loves him, even if he doesn't comprehend the full extent of it.
He almost protests when he's lifted out of the water, the air cool against his wet skin, but he trusts Guilliman and wants to see what his lover has in store for him.
(Treasure - he loved that name. How many people had ever associated him with something so precious before? Not many.)
"Anything," he says, his voice shaky. How delightful it is to be here, exposed and dripping wet in front of the man he loves. "Anything for you."
Guilliman hums, delighting in Terry's surrender, in the long planes of his body offered up to to him. He knows what he wants. What he wants to have with Terry, that he had not had before. Without further talk, he sinks down into the water, still holding Terry's legs up -- and then rises again, so that they are bracketed around either side of his head.
He gives Terry a moment to register what this is. Smiling once more, until he bends his head down, licks a long, hot stripe along the crease of Terry's thigh, then matches it on the other side.
"I've never done this before," he tells him, forehead pressed to his stomach, breath hot between his legs. Not that he thinks it will be difficult, per se -- but he expects Terry will enjoy knowing how singular he is. That his will be the only cock Roboute has ever sucked.
He sinks down further, mouth ready, open. Their proportions do make it marvelously easy to take Terry's prick, to let his tongue still loll out to tease his balls as he does.
This isn't something he ever thought to ask for from Guilliman. Although he likes to think he's more progressive than a lot of men his age, he's not immune to certain arbitrary rules in relationships, either. When he submits to someone, he services them in this way but doesn't expect it in turn. When someone submits to him, it's the opposite.
But Guilliman - wonderful, perfect Guilliman - is taking care of him like this. Enthusiastically so.
"Oh," he moans, back arched, cock easily getting hard as his lover's tongue works it over, "Yes, please, keep going."
To know that he's the only one to receive this privilege is a delight in itself. Whatever relations Guilliman had in that other world don't concern him, he was hardly monogamous there himself, but he's elated to know that this belongs to him and him alone.
Guilliman learned much in that other world, that strange realm that brought them together. He learned that he could be very nearly a human being, when treated like a human being. He learned that, yes, he did have the same monstrous appetites as some of his brothers, but that they were within his control. And he learned that sexually, he is just as versatile as he is in any other sense. Men and women, dominating and submitting. He doesn't know if he could ever get Terry to dominate him, but that's alright. He still loves him. He will still give him everything. Every privilege. Every pleasure.
His omophagea has never been well-developed, and it was never something he wanted to practice refining -- but here and now, Terry's sweat and his pre-come on his tongue taste of secondhand pleasure, of a love that he will never tire of. They taste of Terry.
He imitates what he has experienced, and what seems like it would be enjoyable. Long strokes of his tongue and gentle suction, bringing his mortal close to the edge and then tightening his grip on his hips, holding Terry down as he eases his ministrations. Teasing, once again. Wanting to see how far he can push his lover. They have all night. They have forever.
"You are - very good at this, my love," he says, panting and moaning with each breath he takes.
He knows a challenge when he sees one, and no words need to be spoken. He won't climax until Guilliman allows it, until he stops pulling back. He'll be strong and he'll hold out, as much as he's craving. There's nothing he wants more than to be a worthy partner, even if - for once - he's confident that his lover isn't looking to shame him for his failures.
Roboute can't answer with his mouth full, but there is a flicker of blue as he glances up at Terry, eyes crinkling in a smile.
Closing his eyes, he lets himself sink into focusing on Terry's reactions, his breathing and the pulse of blood as he traces a thick vein with his tongue. The sounds he makes, the smell and taste of him. The tug and pull of their shared desire. He could lose himself in this if he let himself, he thinks, just like a set of data to be analyzed or the care of a masterwork weapon. But not now.
He presses close, his patrician nose pressing up against Terry's bellybutton, his hands grasping his hips gently but as solid as iron. He redoubles his efforts, with teasing now forgotten.
He holds out as long as he can, savoring this moment, this closeness he feared he'd never have again. If he lost Guilliman, that was it. He could fall in love twice, especially after his first lover rejected him so cruelly. But three times? No, not while he was so certain that he had already met his soulmate.
At last he gives in, thighs tensing as he hits his climax with a loud moan before collapsing into a heap on the cold tile.
"Oh, I - " he says, breathing heavily as he attempts to compose himself, "I've never felt so incredible."
Guilliman pulls back slowly, savoring the taste of Terry's spend and the omophageal feedback it carries. His eyes burn with hunger.
"Good. Because that will not be the last time I do that." He surges forward, looming over Terry for a moment, like some great beast, before swooping down to claim his lips. He draws back to allow him breath, then kisses him again, again. There will be no post-coital respite for Terry just yet.
"I would like to use your thighs," Roboute purrs, then licks at Terry's neck. "My treasure. If you can put both of your legs over one of my shoulders, I can still face you."
"Of course," he says between kisses, swinging his legs over one of Roboute's shoulders with a grunt.
His hips and his knees are aching, but he values that just as much as anything else. It makes him certain that this isn't some cruel dream, and he really is here, impossibly, in another world with the man he loves.
"I'll be at your beck and call," he hums, still basking in the afterglow of his climax, "Nothing would please me more."
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no subject
He won't make that mistake again, he tells himself. He has lost so much, he has regretted so much. Throne help anyone and anything that thinks they can take Terry from him now that he had him back. The ruinous powers, the Imperium, his own damned Father.
It would damn them both to speak those words, and so he does not. He hopes his devotion comes across instead in his touch, in the heat of his skin, in the beat of his hearts. And in the words he can say.
"And I am yours," he rumbles.
His hands wrap around Terry's hips, and he lifts out of the water, uncaring of the wave he sends across the tile as he sets him down on the edge of the pool.
"My Silver. My treasure." He leans in to kiss him, and then -- gently pushes Terry backwards, and his thighs apart and up. He smiles, eager and shy at once.
"I would like to try something."
no subject
He almost protests when he's lifted out of the water, the air cool against his wet skin, but he trusts Guilliman and wants to see what his lover has in store for him.
(Treasure - he loved that name. How many people had ever associated him with something so precious before? Not many.)
"Anything," he says, his voice shaky. How delightful it is to be here, exposed and dripping wet in front of the man he loves. "Anything for you."
no subject
He gives Terry a moment to register what this is. Smiling once more, until he bends his head down, licks a long, hot stripe along the crease of Terry's thigh, then matches it on the other side.
"I've never done this before," he tells him, forehead pressed to his stomach, breath hot between his legs. Not that he thinks it will be difficult, per se -- but he expects Terry will enjoy knowing how singular he is. That his will be the only cock Roboute has ever sucked.
He sinks down further, mouth ready, open. Their proportions do make it marvelously easy to take Terry's prick, to let his tongue still loll out to tease his balls as he does.
no subject
But Guilliman - wonderful, perfect Guilliman - is taking care of him like this. Enthusiastically so.
"Oh," he moans, back arched, cock easily getting hard as his lover's tongue works it over, "Yes, please, keep going."
To know that he's the only one to receive this privilege is a delight in itself. Whatever relations Guilliman had in that other world don't concern him, he was hardly monogamous there himself, but he's elated to know that this belongs to him and him alone.
no subject
His omophagea has never been well-developed, and it was never something he wanted to practice refining -- but here and now, Terry's sweat and his pre-come on his tongue taste of secondhand pleasure, of a love that he will never tire of. They taste of Terry.
He imitates what he has experienced, and what seems like it would be enjoyable. Long strokes of his tongue and gentle suction, bringing his mortal close to the edge and then tightening his grip on his hips, holding Terry down as he eases his ministrations. Teasing, once again. Wanting to see how far he can push his lover. They have all night. They have forever.
no subject
He knows a challenge when he sees one, and no words need to be spoken. He won't climax until Guilliman allows it, until he stops pulling back. He'll be strong and he'll hold out, as much as he's craving. There's nothing he wants more than to be a worthy partner, even if - for once - he's confident that his lover isn't looking to shame him for his failures.
no subject
Closing his eyes, he lets himself sink into focusing on Terry's reactions, his breathing and the pulse of blood as he traces a thick vein with his tongue. The sounds he makes, the smell and taste of him. The tug and pull of their shared desire. He could lose himself in this if he let himself, he thinks, just like a set of data to be analyzed or the care of a masterwork weapon. But not now.
He presses close, his patrician nose pressing up against Terry's bellybutton, his hands grasping his hips gently but as solid as iron. He redoubles his efforts, with teasing now forgotten.
no subject
At last he gives in, thighs tensing as he hits his climax with a loud moan before collapsing into a heap on the cold tile.
"Oh, I - " he says, breathing heavily as he attempts to compose himself, "I've never felt so incredible."
no subject
"Good. Because that will not be the last time I do that." He surges forward, looming over Terry for a moment, like some great beast, before swooping down to claim his lips. He draws back to allow him breath, then kisses him again, again. There will be no post-coital respite for Terry just yet.
"I would like to use your thighs," Roboute purrs, then licks at Terry's neck. "My treasure. If you can put both of your legs over one of my shoulders, I can still face you."
no subject
His hips and his knees are aching, but he values that just as much as anything else. It makes him certain that this isn't some cruel dream, and he really is here, impossibly, in another world with the man he loves.
"I'll be at your beck and call," he hums, still basking in the afterglow of his climax, "Nothing would please me more."