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Elysius followed Ohm into the solitorium. The two had arrived that morning in Skarrokk, the smallest of Nocturne’s sanctuary-cities. Despite the size of the steelworking city, the bastion of the 4th Company was large and beautiful, shaped like a cloister around the ancient needle-like tower in the centre, the Dragonspire. The solitoria were not underground here; instead, they occupied a building at the northeastern corner of the bastion, and were large and well-appointed. They suited the 4th Company, also known as the Branded.
Elysius stood still as Ohm removed his armour, placing each piece reverently upon the rack. His Chaplain’s plate was still new to him, but it was the best armour he had ever worn. Each piece felt so comfortable upon his body, the process of removing them was almost like losing a part of himself.
Of course it was good armour, he mused. The whole set, from sabatons to skull-shaped faceplate, had been forged for him by Argos, techmarine and old friend from his scout days. Friend — Was that the right word? As the pieces left his skin, Elysius remembered Argos’s touch as he measured him for his armour. His hands, large and warm, upon Elysius's body. That was what his armour felt like, Elysius thought. Like long-lost comfort and the touch of someone special.
Ohm knelt beside him, humming tunelessly while he removed the black greaves from Elysius's legs. Soon, the blind brander-priest addressed his Lord Astartes. “My Lord, you may step out of your sabatons now.”
Elysius stepped forward and leaned down to tap Ohm on the shoulder. The blind man took his hand gratefully and stood up before rising on tiptoes to unzip Elysius's bodysuit.
The stretchy material rolled downwards. He pulled the bodysuit away foot by foot, enjoying the sensation of the room’s tiles under his bare feet. While his armour reflected his pride in his role as Chaplain, he was glad to be without it for a while. Argos may have created a perfect home for his body, but the feeling of being without it was wonderful in a different way. This was a private comfort, only enjoyed for a few minutes at a time. The only one who knew him like this now was Ohm, his brander. Nobody else.
“My lord,” Ohm said, cutting across Elysius's thoughts. “Would you mind sitting for a few minutes? It is my first time in this chamber, and the promethium pumps here are a little different to those in the other bastions. I must admit, I did not realise until I had overfilled my servitor. Now I need to replace its fuel line.”
“Of course,” Elysius replied. “I will wait.” He sat down on a comfortable chair beside the window. The lightly sulfurous breeze through the high-arched slit prickled at Elysius's nose. It was the smell of coal, oil, smelting, steelworks, and the most fundamental stages of smithing and industry.
It smelled like Argos. Even as a scout, the talented Salamander had spent most of his time in the forge. That scent was a part of him no bath could wash away.
A stab of ancient arousal struck him as a memory of Argos rose unbidden.
Aboard a 7th Company strike cruiser, after Captain Kadai had rescued them from a mission gone wrong, Elysius had gone to see Argos in the med bay. He found his friend lying still between white curtains, his upper body bandaged.
Elysius had meant to sit quietly by Argos if he were asleep, or apologise and beg for forgiveness if he were awake. Instead, the first thing he noticed as he parted the white curtains around his bed was that his friend's face and upper body were heavily bandaged to the point that he was almost unrecognisable. The second thing he noticed was a slight lifting of the sheet draped over Argos's body. Somehow, Argos was sporting an impressive erection.
Elysius stared at the bulge in the fabric for a heartbeat, transfixed. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled the sheet back, exposing Argos's naked body. His bare skin, which had finally come to reflect his genesire's heritage, was smooth and mostly but for his covered burns and a few hairline scars upon his forearms, and one on his left hip. And there it was, between his thighs. Argos's cock, hard and somehow irresistible, called Elysius forwards.
He put a knee up on the edge of the bed and reached for it, his hand wrapping around it. It felt much like his own but somehow hotter. He gave it a few strokes; it had been a few months since he had touched anyone, but he was pleased to find his muscle memory still remained intact. Though he and Argos were reaching the stage where a scout’s desires would often wane, they had each had their fair share of experiences together and with their brother-scouts. It wasn’t unusual for the lads of the 7th company to touch each other.
But, of course, a hand was only so good. Elysius felt himself beginning to salivate, watching his hand rising and falling, exposing the pink head of Argos's cock before pulling the foreskin back over to cover it. He ached to taste his friend. Softening his lips, he sank low over Argos's hips, kissing the tip before taking it into his—
“Stop!” A hand grabbed at Elysius's hair, dragging him away. Argos's chest rose and fell heavily as he propped himself up with his other hand. His voice was muffled by the bandages and had grown breathy, yet he spoke with the firmness of steel. “You don't have to,” he said.
“I want to,” Elysius insisted. “Let me.”
Argos held him still for a moment. The full bandage over his face hid any expression from Elysius, but his one uncovered eye was fixed on his brother-scout's. There was such an intensity in that stare, Elysius wasn't sure whether Argos was about to throw him from the bed or push his head down onto his cock.
Argos did neither. Instead, he released Elysius's hair. His fingers brushed down the side of his face. As his thumb drifted over Elysius's lips, they parted. The future Chaplain's tongue dragged across the pad of the finger, and Argos shuddered. His eye narrowed, but not in anger. Slowly, Argos let himself lie back on the pillows, breathing heavily as Elysius worked his thumb with the same zeal he would soon devote elsewhere.
Finally, Argos removed his thumb from Elysius's mouth. He didn't pull Elysius down, instead raising his hips wantonly, his thick, hard cock lifting from the smooth skin of his abdomen.
Elysius didn't need to hear any words. Taking a deep breath and licking his lips, he lowered his head to Argos's cock again. This was good, he thought, as the musky forgefire taste of his friend’s skin threatened to overwhelm him. This was right. It was his fault that Argos was suffering, but he could at least replace some of the pain with pleasure. With his own cock straining against his sauroch-leather breeches and Argos's laboured breaths echoing in his ears like sweet music, Elysius had closed his eyes and focused entirely on pleasuring his friend.
Now, in the branding chamber in Skarrokk, Elysius's cock was in his hand. As he paused his quick movements to squeeze it upwards, salty precum beaded at the tip. He could smell the faint yet heady scent of it in the air. His eyes flicked to his brander, who was kneeling on the floor tinkering with his servitor's fuel line.
Did Ohm know what Elysius was doing right now?
Elysius slid down in the chair a little as he stared at his brander's back. The small man was hunched over, the fire occasionally sputtering to life near his face. Yet, Elysius could tell that Ohm's ears and the back of his neck were warm in a way that had nothing to do with the fire.
He knew. Of course, he knew.
"Ohm."
Before Elysius knew what he was doing, he had called out his brander's name.
Ohm lifted his head. "Yes, my lord?"
"Help me,” Elysius wanted to say. In his mind's eye, his brander turned. There would be uncertainty in his features, but also a strange eagerness. Perhaps it was normal for a brander-priest to desire his Astartes, or perhaps an Astartes’ own frustrated desire could somehow spread to his brander. Elysius wasn't sure, but he wasn't in the right mind to speculate. Instead, he imagined Ohm kneeling between his legs.
Ohm’s small, warm hands would slide up from Elysius's knees to his thighs. He’d take Elysius's cock in his hands — it would take both for him to grip it well — and lick his lips in anticipation.
The real Ohm cut across Elysius's thoughts. “My lord?” he repeated.
The words came out in a rasp of stifled desire and need. “It's nothing, carry on.”
“Very well,” Ohm replied, turning back to his servitor, seemingly none the wiser.
Elysius, however, felt faintly ashamed. True, Ohm knew his body better than anyone else ever could, but perhaps he shouldn't think of his brander this way. He closed his eyes and let his head rock back, trying to lose himself in other thoughts. Memories of Argos filled his mind, frustrating Elysius further as he remembered how Argos's cock had felt in his hands, how surprised he was to find he could fit the whole thing in his mouth. Despite the guilt coursing through his veins, Elysius had almost gone mad that day. As his head bobbed up and down on Argos, he had rutted against the edge of the bed, rubbing himself on the mattress until he could feel his own muscles tensing, preparing to crest the wave of pleasure.
But the memory wasn't quite enough now; to push himself further, Elysius let the memory of Argos flow into fantasy again. Did Ohm have a lover, Elysius wondered. He had never thought to ask. If he did, and if he knew their body half as well as he knew Elysius’s that person must be lucky. Elysius imagined his brander's hands, small and strong, encircling him, his tongue running around the ridge of his lord's glans and teasing at his frenulum. Ohm wouldn't be able to fit it into his mouth well, Elysius knew, but surely those hands which were so skilled with the irons would be able to handle his cock? Ohm already knew Elysius's body so well, and he was always so gentle and attentive; pleasuring his lord would be trivial for him. He might even enjoy it.
The Chaplain imagined himself placing a hand on the back of Ohm's head, the way he wished Argos had done to him so long before. The image made him shudder and bite back a moan. He was so close.
He remembered Argos crying out, his body tensing from head to foot as he filled Elysius's mouth. He remembered Argos slowly propping himself up as Elysius dribbled as much as possible into his hand before undoing his trousers and grabbing at his own cock, using Argos's spend as a lubricant to bring himself to completion.
“Elysius,” Argos had murmured as the future Chaplain sweated and panted inelegantly by his side. At the sound of Argos’s voice saying his name, Elysius couldn’t hold back. A swallowed moan turned into a half-choked gasp as he finished into his own hand, an embarrassed, unmasked mess before the object of his greatest desire and deepest guilt.
He always wished he had swallowed instead, but training and consideration for Argos’s privacy had stopped him.
But with Ohm, he realised, there would be no need for that. Ohm already knew him more deeply than anybody else, and he was a mortal. He had no omophagea to worry about. Elysius could come in his brander's mouth, could lean forwards and hold it shut, tilting his head up and making him swallow. He could have him open his mouth after and show him it was empty. He could… He could…
Elysius came into his hand, muscles tensing and toes curling. It wasn't as strong an orgasm as he remembered from his youth, but it washed over him all the same, followed by sweet relief.
As Elysius tried to calm his breath, Ohm stood up. He took something from his pocket and stepped around the grate on the floor, facing Elysius. Elysius's hearts sped up again. What was his brander doing?
Ohm stopped in front of him and reached for his hands. Before Elysius could say anything, Ohm wiped them clean with a cloth. His expression was placid as ever, not a hint of judgment on his features.
When he was done, he held Elysius's hands a moment longer. “Feeling better?” he asked.
Elysius's eyes closed. He replied quietly. “I am. Thank you, Ohm.”
The brander smiled down at him. “Now, if you are ready…” Ohm released his hands, gesturing towards the coals that glowed under the grate on the floor. “I have prepared something special for you today. The sigil of Skarrokk, since it is the first time I will brand you here.”
“My seventh city. After this, I'll bear them all.” Elysius stood and stepped towards the coals. “Brand me quickly, Ohm. I am eager to start my work here.”
“As you wish, my lord.”