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The Angel bites his lip, natural fangs digging into the flesh only stopping just before he draws his own blood. They’ve barely started and all of him already feels raw and vulnerable as if Curze had cut him open and laid him bare for only his eyes to see.
“ Konrad- ”
Sanguinius’ cannot stop the gasp that comes when the other takes one of his nipples in the sharp point of a claw. He’s blessed that they’re not his normal gauntlets, those violent blades made for killing. They would have shredded his chest to pieces. Sanguinius wonders if that is what Konrad truly would have wanted, and his older brother is just indulging him by not pushing too far. Still, the sharp tip digs into the sensitive nub forcing him to writhe as much as he can under this brother, in his restraints.
He remembers the conversation that got them both here of course, but it feels so very far away now. The Angel had sensed his brother starting to slip again, further from him, from all of them, just beyond reach. And because of that feeling, all Sanguinius had wanted was to pull the Primarch of the Eighth from that darkness, let him feel loved, and forget the war around them if just for a while. The conversation and raw ache in his own hearts feels further away when he’s being so utterly filled with Konrad’s touch and desires.
Curze takes the other nipple in his mouth, sharpened tooth drawing out a bead of Sanguinius’ blood. He can’t help but cry out and arch his back further with a jolt into the touch.
“ Kon- ”
Nothing about his position is comfortable per se. His chest is bound in a harness that is too tight, the lack of full breaths is starting to make his head feel lighter. What’s worst is the way it binds in arms behind his back and under his wings, uncomfortable forcing his back to arch enough not the crush the primary bones of his wings. But Sanguinius can endure it. He’s endured so much worst than this, and if it brought the Night Haunter back to the light if only for a moment he’d be willing to push himself past his threshold, to the brink of his being.
It’s hardly all bad as well. He’s going to wear bruises from the straps making the harness a permanent mark, at least for another hour or so. It also makes his chest seem much more full than it is...embarrassingly so. With each jolt under Konrad’s touch, it bounces just slight enough that Sanguinius wants to believe he’s imagining it. He can’t help but wonder if Horus would enjoy seeing him this way. If Horus would cup his chest gently sucking and pulling at his nipples. The thought makes his cock leak against his stomach. He scolds himself for letting his mind wander too much. Konrad is here. Not Horus. Be Good.
Konrad licks away the drop of blood his body offers. Pink nipples now swollen and red, Sanguinius struggles to grind his cock against Konrad’s hips still covered in his armor’s black undersuit. He can still feel Curze’s hard cock pressing into his stomach.
“ Impatient .” Sanguinius can hear the twisted grin in his brother’s voice.
Sanguinius is not going to beg, but he wants to. There is an ache inside him that needs to be filled. His cock is straining unashamed and slutty in a way that makes him want to blush. Perhaps he would if Konrad left him enough blood to do so by the end.
He takes a shuttering breath, the biggest he can force into his lungs as Konrad sits back to admire the work he’s done of the Angel. Where their hips meet looks perfect, the pale skin of his thighs spread to accommodate Konrad’s waist. His black bodyglove making his skin seem more vibrant in the soft light. Sanguinius would prefer to feel Konrad’s skin against his to see the contrast of the corpse grey and living shade of his own. It’s not enough like this. It will never be because Konrad’s touch makes Sanguinius ache for more and more just like all of their brothers’.
Konrad slides down further, licking the path along his hip. His dark hair covering his face making it impossible to read his intentions.
He grasps a knife laid on the side of the bed, one of many tools set aside for Curze to use. Though when they were placed there, Sanguinius couldn’t tell. He braces himself for the pain as Curze slides it against the skin of his hip where his thigh meets his waist, cutting deep enough to sever through to the thin muscle. The Angel gasps out at the sharp sting. Bright red blood coming to the surface to pool into the wound until it spills over. Curze allows no time to go to waste before digging his sharp teeth into the meat of the Angel’s severed flesh. His tongue pressing into the wound in an attempt to stall the healing process. It feels hot and stings further as if the other Primarch is burning him. His teeth aggravate the wound pulling more blood to the surface. It feels too much.
Sanguinius hardly recognizes the noise that leaves his throat. It’s something between a broken whine and a moan. His cock leaks precum that mixes into the pooling blood. His cock aches so hard he wants to ask Konrad for more, but there’s the fear of what more might mean. More teasing or more pain? He isn’t sure which one he’d prefer.
“ Brother. ” Sanguinius wants so badly to be good for him. The bleeding is already sluggish as the Angel’s body tries to heal the wound despite the Dark King’s ministrations.
Konrad moves his mouth to his cock, and Sanguinius nearly sobs with relief. His unnaturally cool mouth sucking along the base. Curze’s chin is messy with his blood and his cock smears precum over one of his cheekbones. Marking him as his .
He moans straining against the harness his arms are trapped in. Sanguinius could snap it easily. It was only leather with simple steel buckles. The Angel forces himself to settle when he feels the harness starting to give. He wants to be good.
Sharp teeth slowly brush against his cock enough to make him jolt hard with another indecent noise. He’s not sure where he wants to arch into the pain or away from it. His poor wings are twitching with every touch. The Angel’s ashamed of how close he is to tipping off the razor’s edge. All of it feels as if it’s too much. He needs that release, craves it to the point of crying.
“You’re doing so well.” Curze’s voice is a rough whisper against his cock, and Sanguinius keens.
He squeezes his eyes shut trying to force himself back from the edge and get a handle on this raw feeling in his chest. This aching longing inside for Curze to fill with himself.
Those same sharp teeth bite into the meat of his inner thigh. Konrad is already sucking hard over the bite with the intention to bruise and mark the Angel as his. He’s going to litter him with those marks before they’re done, and Sanguinius can’t wait to wear them proudly. The subtle claws of his gauntlets dig into Sanguinius’ thighs leaving small red cuts with every twitch of his legs. He hardly notices the pain; besides, it’s much too difficult to lay still now.
At some point, Konrad finally pulls away for Sanguinius to catch the little breath he can. Lungs working double to fill against the strain on his fused ribs. It feels like he can breathe a bit deeper now, and Sanguinius almost mourns the tightness of the leather.