He let him in again. The Drukhari into his chambers. Every time they met he felt like a delinquent. A child. Boyish. Heretical and spiraling and yet, to turn him away now after all would feel somehow wrong.

Marazhai would be met firstly with the hard line of the inquisitor’s brows. A pause as he deliberated uselessly with himself and leaned slightly forward to discern if any would see. He sighed. Pointless. All aboard knew they were itemised together upon acquisition by the Lord Captain. Old habits, perhaps.

“In.” He’d commanded. And when the door locked into place behind the lissome terror, Heinrix- committed- changed. He turned in place to reach for him, rough, and offered his mouth not quite tall enough to close the distance fully. “What have you done to me?” Heinrix growled, his voice a low, agonized rasp as his eyes flicker to the pale lips.

Black spines lingered at the Inquisitor's door as he often did, concealed from the Novacula Mortis' scrutinising lumen by a shadow leaning just overhead. Not lingering low enough to hide the speckle of old blood on the primitive steel, the scent agonising. Near-black against the door. When it parts for him, golden lumen glared at him from within. A mismatched storm beneath the brows meet him and Marazhai sneers at him, grin wild and crooked. Their time apart when one hunted and the other did not left him impatient and desperate in throes.

In.

"Ohhoh? And what awaits if I do not?" Such commands always sent electric daring through his flesh to be ordered so- and always a little wariness, even after their time with one another.

He obeys, a stride seeing him within effortlessly around the shorter stature gilded in the same imposition. Decorative as though awaiting the temptation of blood. He turns to bite at Heinrix's presence as he does, with claws raised, step by him. Marazhai hisses a breath as clumsy mon-keigh hands grip for him and tug on him, noise malforming into a pleasured chuckle- dry from his time walking the deck. He knew this gesture and coils downwards to meet him ferociously, meeting his mouth for a moment with an offered kiss that bites as they part. The thrill of possession in his daring to show Marazhai the very notion.

What have you done to me?

Marazhai's claws wrap around Heinrix's larger biceps to clutch him near, faces near also. Abyssal eyes flicker over stormy ones and then over skin flush from Marazhai's attention. It was Heinrix that tortured them both, spoken in a moment's pleasured thought first with his gaze. His eyes narrow.

"You speak of the freedom I give you... are you desperate for sensation, my dear pet?" He groans, words dipped in dark patience.

And what awaits if-

Heinrix’s lip curled just barely. It wrinkled his nose on one side to an intimate glance. A frequent look reserved almost exclusively for Marazhai.

He allows the touch. The claws. Warnings quickly becoming a whisper only from the corners of his mind as the other’s company was… Increasingly welcome.

Perhaps it was the fading appeal of knowing only one’s own company. The growing longing to be known. Known, even if through the lens of such evil. Vile. Somewhat beautiful.

As his hands found their purchase, a single word tore from him, a sound that was equal parts curse, prayer, and raw need. "Marazhai..."

His lip curls, and for a moment, the ingrained defiance flashes in his eyes. He feels Marazhai's claws on his biceps, a steady, knowing pressure that pins him in place, forcing him to confront the question.

Are you desperate for sensation?

The Inquisitor's rigid posture falters, a surrender to an accusation he cannot deny. He’s spent a lifetime building walls of scripture and steel to contain the howling void within. With his next words, he hands Marazhai the key.

“If I… said ‘yes’?”

The question hangs between them, fragile and monstrous. Heinrix feels the confession like a physical weight, a brand upon his tongue. He can feel his own heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrays the composure he so desperately feigns. He can’t hold the glare.

“What poison do you intend to serve me this time? Surely to punish my thirst.”

His stormy gaze loses its focus, becoming clouded with a mixture of dread and something else dark.

Marazhai recognised him instantly as he always did, reciprocating with a snarl like all other times. It pleased him- the gestures, looks, gazes meant for him alone. Pleasurable subtlety, for a mon-keigh, kept for one another.

He was ever aware of Heinrix's strength and reminded himself at all times when he would grip him, the word warning him. Comfortable from the inquisitor's mouth. Dark, raw.

Marazhai's talons curl inwards and he sneers at him, intent with the question. Excitement flashing within his own as he sensed the growing thrill within every time they met. The proffering of pleasure was merely a game between them both now- delightfully reluctant though Heinrix was to accept Marazhai's many offerings.

Something shifting beneath his grasp makes his claws tighten, whispers in the mind dominating. Louder in wishful predatory thrill that Marazhai craved from him.

If I... said 'yes'?

A mortal moment bids Marazhai to swallow disbelieving adrenaline back into his own throat as he resists a mad howl, gripping tighter. Teeth betray composure as they make to show themselves with a grin reaching towards his ears.

"Nnnhn..?" He hums, the sound rolling over his tongue like a low growl. It could have been as easily mistaken that he had been struck by his agoniser for his contagious struggle to remain put.

His lip curls as he takes Heinrix's bicep tighter and rakes his claws over the fabric, expectant. The pounding heart within simply welcoming Marazhai to feast as he felt Heinrix's blood squirming through strangled veins.

Marazhai could not resist. A chord of thrill chokes itself from his throat as he holds him madly there.

In time spent with Heinrix, long had he learned the restraint of awaiting his turmoil to reason with itself; for the subsuming agony of arousal to flood over the bolted gates of gilded regiment. Saw in the way Heinrix's body ran cold and the way he writhed in absolute silence for moments at times.

What poison--

Marazhai hisses- an intake of restless breath.

"What I could offer you is a release. Something far more satisfying than contemplating scripture and steel walls." He says first, teeth bared in reciprocated darkness. An offering of the hunt- no no, much more.

Marazhai had also come to understand his inquisitor's need for... affirmations. As he rolls his thumb over the sleeve he held, trying to purr.

"Is release a poison, my pet? Or is it merely that the necessity of pain is a thing your Imperium fears? That they have beaten you into fearing within your little cage?"

His claws tighten bruisingly against the cloth, offering asphyxiation to the flesh and muscle beneath as he lingers over him, tourmaline eyes glittering with slitted pupils across Heinrix's own glassy gaze.

He turns on his heel quickly and sends them both backwards, suddenly slamming Heinrix against the door heedless of the agony- of the designs and locks jutting from the metal wall. Bound to the space Marazhai had given him.

"I have offered you my hunting grounds, our time with one another..." He growls first.

"Allow me to bind you now, and show you a more graceful rage."

Heinrix would find them quickly flush to one another, terrible claws lifting to press to his mortal neck as the drukhari's face darkens beside him. A pale tongue finds its way with a long lap from mouth to ear with a heavy breath, fangs brushing him.

"Pain, when delivered with skill, is an art... consider the pounding of your frantic heart beneath my grip, trapped like a glorious beast within a cage too small." Marazhai explains, panting. The claw of his thumb tightens around Heinrix's neck and into the flesh.

"I could offer you the splitting of those bars into pain so absolute that it would burn your puritanical guilt to ashes. And in that quiet abyss afterwards... you would thank me for it."

He sighs, a breath like ice against cheeks bound to him. Fangs parted in Marazhai's mouth betray the ecstasy of possibility beside Heinrix.

-something far more satisfying.

What was the point in constantly reminding himself that nigh every word uttered by the beast- Marazhai- was unfettered heresy? We know this. It was pointless to wrestle with it if upon every crossroads Heinrix simply chose to follow him.

He was a heretic also. His little secret. One that fills him with dread to indulge. That Marazhai, of all things, held within him some ancient secret was still incomprehensible. There was a point in their engagements that he felt he’d simply burst into flames should he tolerate listening to him further.

Oh, if Valancius had not stayed his hand… He wonders whether Marazhai or himself would be dead. Or they both would be. Or worse.

Heinrix’s lips draw slightly with how much mental anguish was required. Why did he persist in being so repulsed? Perhaps to convince himself he was yet the man he was made to be. There was no comfort in unsteady footing. He feared he was becoming… unrecognisable to himself.

Not long allowed to consider his descent, his weight suddenly stolen as he was swung with surprising strength against the bulkhead. His hands fly instantly to Marazhai’s, unclothed fingers turning in without claws, bare in his undress. He winced, and tries to measure his fear in these moments Marazhai deigned to be… rough.

He wished to trust him. He very much did. So much so that the guilting words met their mark as he settles against the old door.

“I don’t-…” His voice trails off in easy defeat as their nearness stole his breath.

“Ngh.” His eyes roll at the dragging of tongue over his heated face. He hated how deeply he felt the arousal now. So close. His words like a story of horror directly in his ear and yet, delivered like that of a lover. The most curious parts of him wanted to know if it were possible. If this was some secret to be unlocked that would give him such power and such a secret to keep.

If all Inquisitors were destined to heresy then perhaps it was another form of madness to fight it?

Heinrix swallows. Rationale to the ends of the expanse could not stay his fear and he wonders if Marazhai sensed it in him now.

-you would thank me for it.

Heinrix gasped so quietly it was beneath a whisper, squirming suddenly, but allowing the nearness still. They’d done worse together in proximity.

“It sounds as though you intend to kill me.” He answers a little more quietly. His skin hot suddenly. Excitement and terror.

He swallows, pulling Marazhai’s arms away from his skin.

“I cannot see why I must be restrained if what you offer is such inarguable absolution. I fear—…” That I do not trust you? I fear the kind of pain you promise?

He bit his tongue, a tremor cascading through his shoulders as he writhed against the bulkhead now. Not pulling away but with eyes darkening as a storm. He did not have the courage to ask the questions he wanted to ask. For fear of being simple prey.

He never wanted to be prey.

“Show me.” He fingers tighten and, rather than push him away, pulled him nearer suddenly. No escape from his grip. “Show me.” He echoes, all breath.

Heinrix's bare form, pure Imperium gilding giving way to healed flesh, was prized against the wall by patient claws. Claws tightening around him in turn in the thrill of shared bonds. Shared possession.

Eldar senses revelled in the conflicts within Heinrix's darkness. Begging to understand, or perhaps be shown what he avoided. He had seen the way his heart and mind flittered closer to destruction when it was offered. The shared hunts.

Clawless paws grip his own and set him alight in thrill as he explained himself, writhing serpentine over him. His lips drew back to show fangs in their nearness mutually dipped in black. In the inquisitor's mind, he feared that which had been trained away from his blunted fangs. Marazhai knew this- that Heinrix was a virgin beast to the matters of his pleasure, of pain. So much of him still locked behind the bolted doors of the fear of that which he would dare call heresy.

Protesting sighs died in the dead air between them to be withered into satisfied, burning arousal.

Have you not seen the ways that your cattle look upon you, lord-pet? You are already far beyond your Inquisition's teachings. You need only take the hand offered.

Clawless paws grip his own and Marazhai hisses in thrill as he speaks. The fear and curiosity close enough to offer a hand not quite reciprocating his own. Not yet.

His hands are moved from Heinrix's neck to his shoulder by the battle of strength and he grips again.

It sounds as though you intend to kill me.

Marazhai chuckles, obeying human strength to simply move his hands elsewhere, trying to clutch him still.

Death. Between them, it was where both were sanctified. Marazhai trusted Heinrix by now not to kill him. Could he still trust that Heinrix would not become mad and turn him in to the Inquisition?

After all they had been through, he thinks so. Heinrix was not simple prey looking to find an upper hand of escape.

Marazhai looks into his gaze as he awaits his reasoning. You fear that you do not trust me? That you would find yourself enjoying this attention far too much?

He felt it within. Conflict burning the tips of Marazhai's claws like seething fire- but not resenting.

Marazhai's claws find their purchase again and tighten around him, threatening to pierce his shirt. Himself black in thermoplas. Untouchable- untrusting of the golden corridors between the lower decks and here.

Fingers wrap around him clumsily and his pupils contract instantly in pleasure, fangs pulled onto display by lips tugging upwards at the corners.

Show me.

"Ohhnnhnn... gladly..." Marazhai growls within his throat, talons tightening in screaming arousal.

It was some dark bargain they had made that bid Marazhai to dance the line of the Inquisitor's tolerance for such strain- and Marazhai lets go of one shoulder to lift his claw behind his head.

"Relax for me, my pet. Allow yourself to enjoy the sensations I offer without binds."

He takes him by a clutch of thick hair and wrenches Heinrix's neck back to offer a hard kiss curtailed by a mad giggle as his other hand fights the grip to claw him. Talons wander coldly from shoulder to breast and to the parting of linen. Claws hesitating in pleasure as he grins against his mouth and pets the fur there. Mon-keigh hair so exotic to him.

So beastly. Like the wolf-creatures of the fringe worlds. Had he ever noticed this?

For a lack of toys- Marazhai's claws turn inwards and tear into the muscle over a pectoral at the top of his breast, black steel making comfortable work of rending his pale flesh with care as he breathes against Heinrix's mouth. Skin. Wherever he neared.

He clutches him with a roll of eyes as the blood begins to pool around his claws.

Relax for me, my pet.

My pet. By now, the address ceased to offend him. Some form of their mutual familiarity by now. Heinrix forgot when he’d started calling Marazhai by name.

“Nmh-…” Heinrix does not relax, instead stiffening as his hair was taken in a grip. His own hands come to rest observantly over Marazhai’s arms as they took him in possession.

Not obstructing, but awaiting his fear to become too great. He does meet his kiss with a bite returned - something of a growl escaping him as his body tensed, writhed back against the heavy steel and iron behind him. Trapped but willing - he thinks.

His chest is bared and he suddenly felt naked. Not that it was the first time Marazhai had seen his skin-but this was different. When the cold claws turn inward to clip at his collar, his shoulder rolls forward. And tighter when they began to dig.

A gasp saw him break the kiss and give the Drukhari a hard look as his nerves began to scream. Wail. The pain hadn’t even started until moments later. A myriad thoughts seem to pass over his features and his arms tighten, stiff as rods to push against Marazhai. Not away. But himself against the bulkhead to brace against the fire that bloomed over a pectoral.

“Ah-…” A sound caught in his throat as his mismatched eyes drop as though hesitant to see what those talons wrought. The blood, his blood, pools generously and released in twin rivulets, quickly broken by linen and pattering to the floor.

“Mm…!” Heinrix’s mouth tightened as he turns his glower up to Marazhai. And so when does this brilliant apotheosis begin?

He avoids Marazhai’s chasing mouth as his entire body suddenly trembled in his great effort to remind under his claws like scalpels. Now, he battled his sensibilities. His screaming, bright white brain now fizzling in static as he fought to focus.

Assailed as he was by thoughts of defending himself, staying put, fighting back, surrendering. Holding back the warp and whispers. Frost coalesces into a sheen at the corners of steel, as quickly melting with his thoughts controlled-for its presence was but a veneer.

He claps a warm hand over Marazhai’s betraying wrist and bares his teeth.

“What is this… meant to show me?” He squirms under the claws now, his resilience waning slightly.

To rip through inquisitorial flesh and feel the muscles cording beneath were addiction welcomed as Marazhai met him against the bulkhead, sighs of pleasure oozing venom restrained for now. It was enough that Heinrix was willing to indulge him. More than enough did Marazhai have to offer him in turn of pleasure.

Marazhai feels the limbs against him and he hisses at such daring rebellion- fangs on passive show in amusement and challenged ferocity both. Excitement as he bleeds him.

The glitter of crimson was a feast for the eyes and thrilling in protest and Marazhai almost cannot help himself-

Ah-...

"Mmh." A purr. Sensation welcome. Do not worry, Inquisitor. There is no anathema here.

Rivulets of warm life run over Marazhai's fingertips and then down from tunic to floor as his own eyes flicker from Heinrix to his body. To the growing gore over his furred flesh. Claws curl in a motion to tear a graceful line in an arc down Heinrix's chest, slowly.

"I can offer so much more than this, as you like it..." Marazhai growls, insatiable. He could offer such deeper ecstasy than this... and when should he?

Be it that he would be thrown into the depths for assailing that which did not desire to share in agony. Marazhai's lip curls in certain restraint as he fights him back against the wall with frozen breaths over his flush skin. Supple, tempting.

Marazhai curls his claws down across muscle and flesh as Heinrix protests. He felt the roiling in his very soul and pauses within his flesh when a wrist clasps him.

What is this... meant to show me?

Marazhai's brow arches, teeth baring in thought. The squirming enticing his talons deeper and tighter as he grips him.

"Nnnnh…" He growls, eyes glazing over when they lay upon the blood across the hair.

"Does this not excite you, my pet? The sharing of blood with one another in the throes of ecstasy beyond the reach of your silly doctrines?" Marazhai asks then, eyes rolling upwards towards his creature's face. To the agony- excitement?- quivering within his gaze as they meet one another.

He sends his claws downwards in a motion and curls them around a nipple, splitting the gore into the sigil of an eclipse around Heinrix's flesh. Quick enough to electrocute. Restrained enough to do little harm yet.

"Do you wish to return the bloodshed? Is that the design of your frustration?" He says then, quickly as he collects a nipple under his hand and paws at it claws first.

The weight of Marazhai’s claws was felt against his nerves. Splitting. The sight of his own blood terrifying to be let so egregiously. His tremoring flesh defied his will- diminishing as it was.

If this was some forbidden wisdom, he wonder if it was not meant for him. Through his squirming, he feels Marazhai’s talons curl tighter and he grips back the same, eyes flashing with something akin to panic. Fury. A cord waiting to be cut.

“Ecstasy.” He echoes, bewildered, breathy. He meets the other’s gaze with some make of passion- but he had yet to decide what of.

“Nmh-!” His eyes narrow as his brow hardens again, unable to resist a lidded look downwards. The speed and deftness of the motion left his flesh cut without blood for seconds, his body too stunned to remember to weep until the pain finally bloomed and his mind shouted at him to defend himself.

Red framed his nipple and beaded as his breath hitched- and sped. Grey and blue flickers up again as his shoulders tensed. The flexed muscles encouraging a deeper flow of blood from veins too stupefied to clot.

“Do I?” He asked, more dumbly than he intended. His mind distracted by every thought and sensation at war. Did he? Want to hurt him?

No, we-… Heinrix’s lips tighten as he swallows. He shouldn’t want to hurt him- Wait- of course he should. He, a xenos, should be bloodlet for all the defiance and suffering his vile brood enact in places bereft of the Emperor’s light. But then, to wish to…

Heinrix groans, pinching his eyes shut as his thoughts became too much. Too much like his. This mortifying transformation would be his unmaking, his death and all things worse.

“I don’t-!” Know. He moans while the heat at his ribs, wet and tacky distracted him from clarity. His eyes glaze as he retreated to darker places in wonder. Saccadic gazing struggled to focus though he occasionally offers an unreadable look upward.

Even if he wondered at indulging Marazhai, he… “I would kill you and it would be an accident.” He says before he could think about it more deeply. Just like the ensign, like his aunt. All it would take was a moment of excitement over… The wretched reality of finding him…
He could vomit to ever admit even to himself with a performance of one in his mind that Marazhai attracted him.

That he thinks he would obey in doing what he would ask of him was terror- A sickly feeling of falling preceded the thought- was enough to burn the blood in his head.

It was all becoming too much. Thoughts raced, pain faded into white noise and he… opens his eyes a little more slowly. Brow etched in confusion at the near-physical feeling of something weightless and burdensome missing.

Oh… Was this it? His eyes flicker up to the lit tourmaline ones with a little more alert clarity. A little less crowding behind his own particolour ones.

Speechlessness took his tongue for moments as he frowns, only his steady-but-quickened breathing offered between them. His chin raises slightly in seeking, face coloured in shame as his eyes dart away.

He hesitated to analyse this feeling. This feeling of something burned away by the pain. Fixation upon only the necessary. Dissociation from troubles beyond the immediate. Was this a form of ecstasy? Never had he forgotten why he let his fury broil until just now.

Why had he been angry?

He allows his shoulders to drop slightly as he offers a look far too gentle for the way his blood darkened, or his skin flushed as his body rushed to heal it.

Ecstasy.

Ecstasy in latent rage- or latent pleasure- Marazhai perceived with the silence. Eyes flickering over Heinrix's mismatched own in intensity felt the tide of thrill wash over them both. The bloodletting was easily given when his pet did not nearly say no.

The ecstasy again boiled between them ice-cold, mon-keigh flesh fascinating in its reluctance to bleed under eyes not meant to see it breathing. The pulse so near beginning to pound- until skin could no longer resist weeping in delightful frailty. Sensation howling somewhere beneath them both draws Marazhai's gaze over it in admiration. Such artistry as blood drew rivulets like hanging seals across his breast.

Natural pleasure, was it not, to allow the flesh to bleed as it was always intended to? For why else does the blood pulse around the body begging for such release, the brain welcoming the descent of starvation with the high of euphoria before the end?

It was not that it did not excite Heinrix.

Do I?

Oh, I think so.

What of the hound's loyal nature to hunt that deemed perverse to his precious Imperium? That such low beasts craved the brays of all xenos by their natures. Marazhai licks a fang, a brow arching as he hooks his nipple with his fingertip.

And so why do you hesitate?

I don't-!

His claw pinches and the other hand secures his head with a renewed tug backwards, meeting his gaze dimly-lit by the lumen above. Unable to resist the Warp-woven flesh in possession.

"Go on. I sense it within, your craving for me..." Marazhai sighs in teased pleasure and expects more. Pounding in the ribs beneath his fingertips as he feels the breath draw inwards to speak again.

I would kill you and it would be an accident.

The words fail to meet Marazhai for moments of disbelief as he arranges his claws over him, petting his chest and squeezing a bloody breast in his hand.

That disbelief unsettles him suddenly and turns his blood to ice in his distal limbs.

Perhaps he could. The threat of Sailanthresh at all times within realspace rendered Marazhai nervous enough to listen to Heinrix, aware enough to feel his fear as it boiled beneath the skin. Unable to clot yet. Eldar speed could not outrun the call of the Warp- nor the combustive mind of a loose psyker.

Marazhai's hands cease pawing and he breathes against Heinrix's skin and could have laughed at their first meeting. Their times with von Valancius. How Heinrix wished to destroy him then. How he so often did now.

And yet he trusted him.

"If you require a steady hand upon the blade I offer, then allow us both to hold it. I would teach you." He offers first. A sculpted chin lifts and draws Marazhai to it in indulgence, offering his mouth in excitement to the jaw.

When shaved, he observes beneath his lips and flickering tongue the sensation of stubbled hair. Pretty. For a mon-keigh. Marazhai growls against the sensation petting him as he claws at his scalp also.

"So afraid of the unburdened sensation that you crave so immensely. You needn't be aware of yourself to indulge your primal desires, van Calox. Nnnh-" Marazhai grumbles, blood collecting within despite excitement.

Eyes met betraying the thrill within Marazhai to hunt him. The claws over his chest flex and gouge him again in slow, methodical adoration over the blood let out just moments before, the biomancer's body already seeking to rid itself of brands.

"It would be such a small thing to enjoy the sensations of my kind with a mild venom. If you can trust me...--" A sharp breath. "If you cannot trust yourself, my pet, then allow me to be the confessor to your tormened release."

That which he offered would not be found here. Not at Marazhai's sides or elsewhere as he had anticipated Heinrix's descent to come slowly. Descent he knew troubled Heinrix beneath that fixed brow of his belaying panicked breath.

Go on. I sense it within, your craving for me…

“Tch!”

Marazhai would feel Heinrix’s chest tighten under him. A pectoral flexing quickly and encouraging a line of red to track down.

They were both doomed if he couldn’t hold it all together. Fingers curl in to clasp Marazhai’s arms now and he fixes him with a hard look even as a seductive mouth trails his jaw. He shivers, quickly masking it with a pained writhing.

If you require a steady hand-

Heinrix’s eyes lid, the rise and fall of his chest under the gripping talons measured but uneven. He rolls his neck and his nerves bring him to shiver as claws caress under his hair, over his nape. His back lifts from the steel frame behind as Marazhai’s words echo in his head-case. Wildly.

“You trust me.” He finally answers, eyes glazing and brows curling into a frown almost sympathetic. It was hardly often that anyone- Well, it never happened at all- would persist in his intimate company after such a threat and reminder of what he was.

If he hadn’t the mark of the Holy Ordos hanging from his neck he’d be as openly reviled as the rest of his mutated breed. What was this trust for? So dangerous. To trust anyone at all was ever a mistake.

Yet he… Also did. Trust him. Marazhai had never once lied to him, not really. Not like Valancius. Not like Calcazar. Not like… So many more.

His breath stutters in his nose as he grimaces in front of him. Suddenly seeing the value in such an offer. It was, after all, what he wanted. He relents.

“Teach me.”

Black claws catch unravelling nerves as both writhed in pleasure, any moment of escape from the wall met with a grip more contentious. More vicious in shared sensation. The lord-inquisitor, an implacable pet, free of gilded shackles and drowned in shadow that was welcomed within. That they both welcomed.

An arch of the spine in delightful silence bit Marazhai's nerves, Heinrix's undressed belly meeting with his plated own. Suggestion, invitation, staying madness with writhing in surrender to pleasure offered.

Marazhai made care to keep his nerves alight as they talk- as they pet one another, warm hands holding his own wrists in stiff hypocrisy.

The show of strength wavers when Heinrix speaks, looks at him.

You trust me.

"Of course." Marazhai hisses, with a possessive pinch over the nape, claws on tenterhooks in threat. An admission not easily given.

Esteemed, dangerous pets were psykers of the Imperium and deadly prized in Commorragh; prized for the power and sensation they siphoned into fuel far more than any simpler mon-keigh.

Marazhai's own peripherals had been burned by Warp ice under Heinrix's duress before. He had been touched by the sounds always heard on the other side of the bulkheads when they were apart. Ice that had made its way through the steel to where Marazhai listened to him, coiled within Valancius' stateroom without the choice of it.

It bled him to trust a mon-keigh. And in the afterglow of torture, he had done. He had offered him his prey, his meat, his vulnerability during each warp jump they were made to contend with.

And is this not what you desire? Of all of this play, this ungraceful crawling after stimulant--

Teach me.

Marazhai's eyes, glazed over absorbing pleasure, awaken and his eyes dilate instantly.

"Ohho…" He purrs, terrible claws relenting with a petting- a swipe- across Heinrix's neck, from nape to shoulder with a parting talon.

"You will wait for me here." Marazhai orders, his other hand now bloody also leaving the pale silhouette pinned against his own walls as Marazhai's hand reaches for the elaborate lock and frees himself.

Heinrix would find him gone for minutes and longer as Marazhai slithered to the officers' deck and back- where he had been placed by von Aurastor in some unkindness.

When he returns, he lets himself within with his blade at his side, steel along its length chipped and blackened without the venom running through its barbs. Claws against the steel bulkhead scrape and scream as he pushes the door closed again, his grin restrained.

"Forged steel imbued in the forges of Commorragh. A beautiful design." Marazhai presents it and prickles it across a gloved hand. A blade for combat- a blade for ritual pleasure. This one had dealt the blow to Valancius as it had to enemies of Valancius and of von Aurastor. Marazhai had come to them with few other belongings.

"Sharpened diamond makes such effortless art of man's flesh. Such effortless art of eldar essence, when it is allowed to bite into it." He observes, gaze rolling over its darkened length and to his companion as several verdant phials rest at a fixing on his waist. One would perceive the venomblade's carved hilt and a fastening within the curve. Marazhai angles it to be perceived- the parched reservoir waiting for venom.

"You will find these toxins to be mild, with care. I would soon see you not obliterate both our minds in your esctasy--" He laughs, wild in excitement, the sound short in his throat. "But be consumed by it. Enough to feel its release within your beating heart." The offering dark, his voice dripping in focused arousal as he says the words, gaze flickering over the blade before returning to Heinrix in his pale linens.

Heinrix would need to remove the thermoplas for any hope of carving his skin- among other tasks. Marazhai eyes him expectantly.

To be left alone in contemplation was a welcome silence after such duress. He sunk slightly against the steel as Marazhai parted from him and he decided he was finally free to observe the crimson brands at his chest. His body clotted them by now, in a rush to close them in slithering defiance of his own ignorance to let them be cast into his flesh. It was like a memory of form, constantly maintained.

For the best. If he retained each and every scar, he wondered what he’d look like by now as he wandered to the mirror tucked against the wall in the washroom. His flushed look crossed over by a spider’s web of cracks.

Two fingers tug a side of the largest cut, prying it from its mirroring side and making his nerves scream in anger. Minutes passed in his silent observation and he wonders if Marazhai intended to kill him after all. He could feel the creature’s thrill each and every time he relented more and more of himself to this heresy.

When Marazhai gives himself leave to enter, Heinrix was almost surprised, turning to cast a look bewildered as his eyes fall just as quickly to the blade. Oh. Ah.

He lifts his nose in the way he always did when he put on condescension. His brows curve in uncertainty.

“Big enough to put some distance between us, I see.”

His heart had settled in the minutes alone, his confidence mantling him like a cloak once again. His chest, brushed lazily of blood as the thinner of his brands were already sealed at the tails by warp-aided willpower.

He observes the terrible blade and its fixings.

“Horrendous thing.” He utters, just over a whisper as his brow hardens in some memory. Marazhai had been the source of some torment in the past. And that felt so far and so near at once.

“Obliterate? Heh…” A breathy chuckle. “Ecstasy.” He echoes once again. “You’re very confident, I-…”

When Marazhai ceased his explanation and looked upon him expectantly, Heinrix met his look with a gently widened one as he realised that Marazhai’s instruction was to be somewhat lacking in direction. It was merely trust, was it?

Heinrix swallows visibly, eyes darting then to the room around them as he considered the circumstance. His heart, traitorous, throne-damned thing, began to trot mockingly as his eyes darkened in thoughtful focus.

“You would give me command of this… Wretched thing?” His nose wrinkles, but he wonders if it was mere habit as he does extend a hand toward it, hesitates.

“You’re… trusting me.” He bares his teeth under a strange look. “Likewise, if I err-…”

He leaves the notion open. A threat and plea unfinished as he wrests control of the sword, his senses immediately assailed in frozen memories. He was no diviner, yet the palpable suffering etched in the psyche of this blade was, even to him, enough to nearly make him drop it, fingers stiffening suddenly.

He tests its weight carefully, thoughtfully. Eyes upon its tip hovering near the toe of his boot. Terrible.

And then, with a grimace, finally regards Marazhai. “Let’s get you undressed, then.” He growls, eyes flickering over the Drukhari’s form searchingly as he began to discern how to do just that.

How far was he-? Able to take this?

First, he swung the blade casually alongside them, only to hook it neatly at the back of the other’s knee- where only leather protected him. Nothing to steel such as this.

“Down.” He commands, letting this threat be the first of their play. Play. His eyes narrow at himself. Oh, you are sick, van Calox. Perhaps you always have been.

"You say that as though you are afraid of it."

Marazhai saw where the fingerprints marred his art in his absence, eyeing Heinrix's broken pectoral. Curiosity lingered in the air and the broken clotting weeping over the breast and nipple still flush. The scent of mon-keigh blood was overwhelming- and Marazhai could see the way the scars already began to close.

Perhaps in recoil of what he was. Perhaps yet in a need for more: the flesh making room to accommodate deeper, darker wounds yet.

Horrendous thing.

Marazhai's smirk lingers as he presents the blade to the lumen and lets it glimmer darkly, its etched surface crossed by the brands of bloodletting from perhaps years of service. Slaughter insurmountable to the human mind.

The violent fumbling of words follows in pettish agony as Marazhai's neck rolls in frustrated arousal, meeting the gaze widening. His own pallid in thrill, pupils pin-pricked in the light and glazed over.

What was it that Heinrix called himself? Boyish. A child. Dumbfounded when the blade was offered to him in hesitation. To see that reluctance as his hand reached for the blade and then paused- Marazhai's nerves aflame.

Hesitation and words enough to arch Marazhai's brow before they pinch together and his nostrils flare in restraint. Such a blade's command was no order of mere play.

Are you going to take it, van Calox? Or continue writhing in mockery of our bond?

He does, and Marazhai watches with an unreadable stare as Heinrix quivers under its weight- mind bent by what it held. The suffering in its memories enough to sustain Marazhai as its wielder- and yet he saw the way Heinrix struggles with it and delights. That a mon-keigh could sense it as he did?

He wonders this when suddenly inspired and thrilled by the suffering directly at his side, van Calox still for tumultuous moments.

Marazhai's eyes refocus on the hands over the blade's hilt and the white-hot grip, then up to the sculpted jaw as Heinrix speaks. A smirk given back. You are no heretic where eyes cannot see you, van Calox.

Let's get you undressed then.

Marazhai breathes, his chin lifting over Heinrix's form. Smaller- not so comically as fascinatingly with the blade in-hand. It was large enough to almost equal van Calox's stature and elegant as he turns it within his wrist. Heinrix would find the steel singing in the mind and easier than Imperium steel to wield as it cut the dead air.

He chuckles, breath withdrawn in pale wonder when the empty blade begins to move. It swings by them both first, the tourmaline gaze following in fantasy of what would come next. Another testing dance with the weight? Words? Betrayal? Anything at all?

The blade finds Marazhai where thermoplas gave way to sturdy leather, allowing him movement in the heat of combat whilst concealing him from gnashing fangs.

Not from a calculated, gliding blade. A silent gasp and a snarl with teeth reciprocated the bite superficial enough to be only a warning.

Down.

Marazhai's eyes light up at the command and his nape bristles, stiff, thorned by challenge suddenly.

He grins, wild, and chuckles within his throat. Orgasm to the senses. Unleashed- away from the Inquisition's chaste temptations. Here where van Calox could practice his torture in unrestrained pleasure.

Any other would be killed for it. Heinrix, he decides, his pet and companion willing to his nature, even if such a thing had earned betrayal once before. He could not resist van Calox's curiosity- for they were both tortured. Witness to the same torment.

Marazhai's claws raise, one to his hip near the phials. He imagines the venom in his veins without the bite of the blade, and lets his eyes drag over Heinrix's form. Down to the hand that held his own blade in vicious arousal. The sight of such blasphemy a feast for senses hooked between the inquisitor and his own confiscated weapon. Marazhai's eyes narrow above a smirk.

"You will have to do better than that, my pet." He finally growls.

Heinrix, perhaps to his credit, was hardly a stranger to level coldness. For when it came to ‘work’, well- Sometimes duty could be a real pleasure.

He holds the blade steady, the line of his brow twitching to watch Marazhai’s hand raise, to which he grunts.

“Mh- No.” He reminds. “Get down.”

You will have to do better than that, my pet.

Perhaps that was the permission he sought. His arm moved, drawing back quickly to give his companion a true laceration. For just a moment, he wonders if he could heal it. Was the fabric of Xenos flesh very different from that weave of his own? Not very, actually.

He would avail himself of any stagger, any dipping in stature, to take Marazhai by his nape in mirror to the way he did so like to do the same. No gloves. Just his own skin against flesh far too cold to be anything but unsettling.

“Better?” He asks, voice nearly a titter as he leaned over him from just behind, eyes distracted as he peers over his armour, discerning its construction. The blade, not yet envenomed, raised to the covered throat. Oh, but was it micro-molecular enough to cut that thermoplas? He allows it to hover a moment, nearing their heads close enough to count Marazhai’s exquisite eyelashes.

The glitter in Heinrix’s eyes could have been unsettling to any other, perhaps, when he glances at him. His curiosity unfiltered suddenly as he strokes down Marazhai’s nape, gaze just briefly pausing at the leather in his hair. His own spine tremors under his nerves as he rolls his neck. A pop the audible vestige of the tension he did seem to always hold.

Oh, so many mysteries begging to be laid bare this cycle. His eyes narrow as his hand turns over instead, to look for whatever fixings kept this terrible kabalite gorget upon him. Surely there was some way to remove it, even if not easy. He thinks he’d be disappointed if it came easy.

“Ridiculous…” He breaths, turning the blade transversally, point-down, and anchoring his weight as he lifts the gorget with a knowing look, fingers underneath in seconds looking for hooks to the next leaf of bladed armour.

“Direct me to the most effective way to bare you. That I might even get an opportunity to see how you bleed.”

For bold moments, Marazhai's mind was spurred by the ecstasy of his capture- of Heinrix's command. The inquisitorial dog emerging from the shadow of restraint upon him with eyes suddenly a note colder.

Could he command him truly?

Marazhai's lips were thin and terse in smirking, thinking not. A pup commanding a wolf could be impossible-- until he feels it. Cold, venomless steel carving the back of the leather effortlessly, landing a bite into the back of his knee.

Pale flesh and tendons give way to the venomblade's maw and he gasps in thrilled silence as the deft strike sends him down, onto his knee, with pale features grimacing.

The blood that pooled behind his limb was cold, glittering black.

It stuns him. It does, as his skin turns to ice suddenly and he resists attacking that which assailed him in mon-keigh form, pupils contracting violently.

Heinrix takes him by the nape and he hisses, imagining himself. Thrill and horror pitted into his stomach sickly when forced to remember where this inquisitor had come from. His eyes were wide and he could not help squirming.

Better?

How he must have looked to any of his own kind.

"Nnngh…"

Marazhai's face tightens and he glares at him, claws flexed somewhere below. His own cunt was exquisitely wet between his skinny thighs, he felt this, as Heinrix's hand molests his nape and neck under strain.

Heinrix would feel the gorget to be solid, thermoplas shaped to Marazhai's form perfectly and decorated by the bladed texture of old scars also.

When they were near, he eyes him with open panting. In disbelief and in arousel unhidden. Though enough to grin and to laugh? He was affronted by his own disbelief and could hardly choke the noise from himself.

Marazhai meets that gaze with one of his own in matched fervour, terror in admiring the hand that held him. This wildness-- recognised, from when they hunted together. When blood met blunt fangs and he was allowed to shed his Imperial gilding in darkness.

He felt the pain within his own limb when he twists it over the chamber floor and it bids him to smirk as barbs around his throat also pull, brought taut by a clumsy hand. Head lifted by the venomblade's teeth again.

"Much better, my pet..." Marazhai croaks, terrible arousal absorbed into his own body from his handler's grip. He felt his own throat flex against the blade when he swallows from his dry mouth, pale gaze flickering over the features above. Reminded that Imperial men could be... handsome things.

He stares at him long enough to catch Heinrix's eyes wandering over his body and he purrs, a snarl, when he sees the mismatched storm wander up to his hair. Forced to admire him under the lumen above as the blade

"You won't be removing that." He titters, as the molestation simply continues.
Marazhai's claws reach to clutch with both hands for Heinrix's leg. Eyes violating his form in human compulsion to dominate-- mon-keigh clumsiness with how to treat a willing beast.

Struggling to comprehend the barbs, lord-pet?

Ridiculous.

Marazhai's lip curls, as the blade and fingers find their way through his scutes- drawing out Marazhai's fangs and a hiss in ecstatic complaint. Clumsy, fumbling inspection- brought pleasure to all his firing nerves.

Direct me--

Marazhai laughs, claws curling around the back of Heinrix's calf and never gouging.

"Ohhn... you are savouring this, aren't you." Marazhai moans with a breath, head rolling to provoke the grip; to provoke the flesh to bleed, or the inquisitor's writhing impatience to tear his gorget apart.

He waits for a moment of looks shared to speak, an observing chuckle in his throat snuffed by a sharp breath as he does.

"You need only pull the plates from me, pet. Pull with all the strength you dare to. I will enjoy all of it." Marazhai assures then, voice low- purring and husky- in tempered thrill. In some resenting snarl at the way his cunt sored under Heinrix's simple attention.

He bares his throat to him to encourage the plate to loosen, the nerves around his neck beginning to wail as he and his captor's grip shift the barbs beneath his skin.

Ohhn… you are savouring this, aren’t you?

The laugh, the moan, the prickling claws all converge to make him grimace.

“I am-… waiting to see this ‘ecstasy’.” He deflects.

You need only pull-

Earnestly? Was that it? Heinrix paused his movements to stare, fingers curled beneath the gorget and venomblade. His eyes flicker thoughtfully.

“Very well.”

He relents and the pressure returns. As something gives, his lip curls visibly to bare a canine as he wonders at just how much of Marazhai’s flesh was the anchor for his armour. What a madman.

He pries it free, setting it down for a moment to reach around his head to pry free the injector cables, that he might fully divest him elegantly. It was a slow process, as he refused to release the blade he was granted in their accord.

“Mm.” He grunts. He could sense Marazhai’s pain and did not relent. Having freed him of his gorget, terrible thing, he already seemed so much less… Imposing. It was an unsettling elegance beneath the black steel, one he could nearly shiver to think that he would see. If Marazhai did not betray and eviscerate him where he stood.

A few more layers are freed, set aside, and Heinrix retracts the sword to his side, stepping around Marazhai. His look, though analytical as it tracked from a bleeding shoulder to claws, was alive with his attention.

He extends a hand, palm-up, and gestures with his chin for one of the other’s own hands. Meanwhile, with a gentle smirk, relents his grip upon the sword, tip resting precariously between Marazhai’s legs, as he directs it to lean by the pommel until it rested against his bleeding collarbone.

He needed both hands to undo the more delicate fixings of Marazhai’s gauntlets.

“It does not take much to excite you.” He observes as he works, eyes raising to meet any look given.

“Is this more than mere charity?” He asks, nape aflame in intrigue. And arousal. The gauntlet gives and he pries it free, a chord of surprise in his throat as another rivulet of blackened blood trickles free.

His lips part as though he had something to ask- eyes narrowing instead as fingers curl possessively against the bare wrist. Horrendous. Monstrous.

He releases it with a quiet command of “Fetch one” and another gesture to the vials of venom.

He keeps his palm proffered for it.

From where else did such ecstasy come but within? As Marazhai contended with the sting of the cold ichor on his leg, he writhed under the constant pull of the barbs.

Sensation in beating hearts and biding wounds were pretty, rhythmic torture.

Very well.

Marazhai's eyes, below, sharpen in focus suddenly as the pressure bites him then. Deliberation and meticulous torture unfolding him beneath a clumsy hand as the scute loosens, loosens, nudging his nerves and muscles and sending a gasp from his throat.

Such precise, methodical play was... cute. He eyes his lord-pet wildly with eyes to tell him this as the plate dislodges and sends a string of black blood with it. Heinrix would observe a line of black punctures chasing down the length of Marazhai's neck, skin sickly white and marks following tendons as Marazhai heaved excitedly beneath his own skin.

The first of several scutes to be pried free, gaze upon Heinrix at all times. The next pieces were agonising in restraint and play as he was... arranged. The cables at his nape are peeled free and another scute next, the reactive yelp drawn out from the depths of ecstatic psychosis. Just for a moment.

"You are a natural at this, my pet..." Marazhai gasps, a shudder wracking his bony shoulders. "And where have you learned this art before?"

It makes him laugh. He cackles, more breath than air, in thrill swallowing itself as Marazhai writhed under the hands.

Dangerous. Marazhai knew where such a path led and knowing that he would be killed for it also. By van Calox or perhaps by von Aurastor himself. All in service to the destruction of xenos across the systems that mon-keigh wandered. As Marazhai feels his own blood in rivulets down his collar, to the floor in frozen rivulets, he knew this.

Marazhai allows- muscles corded resisting murder- his neck to be freed, scute by sublime scute, until Heinrix returns to his front and his eyes draw upwards. Brighter, wilder, for this foreplay. The drukhari's grin is a lop-sided and fanged thing as he poises around the sword, made to simply hold it with his body. A hand asked for. It was given. After moments pass drowning them both in focused silence.

It thrills Marazhai when his talon is taken and he hisses.

It does not take much to excite you.

A din in the ears while his flesh was torn apart, barbs clutching desperately around a bony palm to stay hooked within. A mind soothed by a moment's pleasure is instantly impatient in insanity and Marazhai chuckles, baring teeth.

"Ohohh…--" A purr. "It is beyond your ken to comprehend true excitement, my pet. But you... you are a willing learner."

His loose claw fastens around Heinrix's legs and Marazhai grips him, fingers tightening behind a knee and plucking with claws. Appraising, close. Writhing beneath the blade himself as he reaches for him in their closeness. He, curious, allows his undressed hand to flex as he feels man's stale air violating his bared skin.

"I do not offer charity. You do not even seem to be aware of your own craving. You long for torment as much as I, van Calox. We both know this now. Unless freedom is charity-- then I am simply a willing patron." Given in a mutter of restrained thrill- vocal chords speaking quickly in tempered breaths whilst wrapped in the sinew of bloodlust.
Marazhai squirms as his wrist is freed and the warmth is, oh, utterly violating. He groans under a breath and eyes Heinrix, his own hand squirming within the grip. As he writhes, the blade rolls against his chest and he imagines the inquisitor splitting him.

He imagines van Calox learning the ways of his kin and reciprocating the paralysing torment that Marazhai sought in him- comprehending, in some way, that he had been designed for the very purpose under his Imperium's own gaze. Though primitive, superficial... it was not entirely different, was it?

His pulse throbs within the black morass of his veins as he was made to hand the creature a phial, palm proffered. Of course.

Heinrix would feel the claws recede from his leg and hear the nasty tapping of claws against black glass, the phial collected and set into the palm. Clawed fingertips curl in curiosity to watch the way the soft flesh bends beneath his own claws. He frowns as he grips the offered hand also. Warm. Drowning with blood within. Uncomfortably so. Even felt behind the thermoplas.

"It is a mild toxin. One meant to paralyse the muscles of the prey whilst the nerves are burned within the body." Marazhai narrates, then observes from his given spot with narrowed eyes. And a cold, strangled chuckle hums in his throat as his hand frees Heinrix's own. He gestures with eyes at the reservoir's port, on the venomblade still posed against his own chest. Teeth pointed down towards his own body and hips in pleasure. Easy slaughter.

The gaze drags back to Heinrix, lingering on his bared throat. The furred chest clotting artistically. White and imperial red.

"It would be unwise to misuse it on such primitive flesh."

Heinrix watches with a level look as the poison is collected, praise ringing in his ears. He, if not distracted by the burning comfort at his nape, might have lost his nerve. A willing patron indeed. How very exotic…

He grips the sword again to steady it, offering Marazhai a thin simper as his fingers curl around the vial. A quickly look was enough to discern how it would slot into the the blade and he does bring them together, twisting the container to lock in place as he turns away.

Only to give himself room to give the blade a performative twist as he turns the hilt over and back. While he wasn’t sure how the mechanism in the blade’s channels worked, it couldn’t hurt.

“Mild, you say?” He echoes, coming to wander once again behind him- the venomblade returning its point to between his knees, one still bloody. Heinrix steps around him to stand near at his back, knuckles brushing his hair aside before his arm curls around him to the gripped blade. Like an embrace, of a sort.

“Such horror is mild to you?” He asks gently, as if bewildered earnestly. “We shall see how mild it seems to observation.”

He presses his palm against the spine of the blade while pressing his own body against Marazhai’s back and shoulders. His intention to make the injection process… Intimate. To witness such alien machination so close and at his pace? How could such an opportunity be afforded to any at all? His ears burned when he considers Marazhai’s trust, assuming this was no trick.

He swallows loudly enough near the pale, piked ear to be heard, increasing the pressure enough to cast his eyes down Marazhai’s front and watch the teeth of the blade simply bite. Oh? But almost no resistance. Marazhai would feel him shiver, a motion concealed by a tensing of his body.

“Of what manner of misuse could you mean?” He asks conversationally. And pauses. Their heads were near together and Heinrix turns his slightly. His curiosity bade him to further heresy as he breathes in Marazhai’s scent, pupils blown wide for moments before tightening at the next movement.

“Answer me?” He mutters, palm coming to flatten at Marazhai’s chest to steady him, fingers hot as they hook over his clavicle and he lifts the blade. Enough to slice and ensure the delivery of their ‘toy’.

The motion of fumbling hands over phial and blade, unbelonging, keep Marazhai hooked by the suspense of his own thrill as he watched the phial fix into its holding place. It wept into its veins iridescent under lumen, a sickly green feeding into the blade. Marazhai glances as it was poised and turned to sink the venom deeper.

"Nnnnghh…" Marazhai groans, deep in the throat, impatience suffocating under his captor's wide silhouette.

Heinrix behind suddenly set all of his nerves aflame as if his body prepared itself for betrayal. The blade returns to posing over Marazhai's body and he, feeling strange, allows such seductive coiling around his own form.

His own body shuddered under the pawing hands, repulsive in pleasure.

Mild, you say?

Mild... not the immensity of the insufferable caress given to him. Such tedium. Marazhai sighs, smirking.

Such horror is mild to you?-- We shall see--

"Is it not the inquisitor who revels in the very thing? Worse, perhaps... I see what you enjoy on the lower decks. The flesh I wade through in your wake."

Marazhai lifts his throat as he feels Heinrix move above and awaits, throat swallowing dryly in thrill. His eyes flicker sidelong to the sound that rang in his ears.

A predator in chastity swallowing saliva disallowed from being spent, for where was van Calox's fear now? As weight presses to him in deliberation and Marazhai was made to watch his own flesh part through discoloured eyes.

The splitting of pale flesh draws a sigh from between lips drying in adrenaline as Marazhai's eyes roll and his shoulders writhe under the forced grip. Pleasure instantaneous. Overwhelming but not so much as to satisfy him.

He rolls his own hips and shoulders with a sigh as he reciprocates the shiver with an imagined fuck- the venom's burn instant. His chuckle guttural in earnest excitement.

Marazhai hears his creature distantly, head rolling in pleasure dipped in shrivelling nerves. It takes moments to answer wherein the request for such a thing pulls Marazhai's attention just near enough back through the veil of orgasm to hear him.

His blood was cold in rivulets as it wept away from the venom and he felt his collar, throat, chest burn. The flesh beginning to sting like an eruption of needles through the sinew.

Marazhai's eyes roll sidelong as their heads touch and he hisses at him, his heart beginning to step in sensation.

"Is that curiosity that I hear?" He breathes, a wild laugh. "On the fringes of esctasy, you are curious...!"

Marazhai's fangs snarl on display as the venom reaches his throat, breathing sharper as his body begins to shut his mind away. Limbs heavier and on such immense fire. He slouches against Heinrix and gasps when he rolls his hips- cunt dribbling in arousal out of sight.

"You may have a taste, my pet..! My blade yearns to bite you. Or you may share your wounds with mine and I will-- show you. I chose this toxin for us both to revel within it." He growls quickly, an offering; a wheeze, as he swallows silently around a dry, tightening throat. Where his wound began to clot, venom remained at the edges of the wound not yet absorbed within. An easy thing to share, if van Calox dared.

Marazhai's own mouth, filling with adrenaline and saliva in agonised pleasure, parts as he turns in Heinrix's grip and tries to bite the thick neck offered. The mortal flesh begging for release of the blood within, he could feel this in ecstasy.

When the venom reaches his lower body in moments, pulse racing, he gasps in a moment's subsumed defeat- the sensation of blazing paralysis threatening to bring him to orgasm within Heinrix's grip effortlessly.

It was... mesmerising torment, without the adrenaline of battle. His face and eyes and belly burned through as he felt his innards lose focus. Less aware of his own body suddenly as he writhes against Heinrix with thighs parting in a last effort to move.

"A small dose will not kill you." He gasps quickly, panting- grinning madly in bliss.

Is that curiosity I hear?

Heinrix’s lips barely curl into a simper, face suddenly hotter. Something about Marazhai’s eagerness to… mutually revel, as he put it, was thrilling. To be so desired for something he’d so long shut away? Heinrix wonders if he was already damned. Sanctioning did nothing to cleanse his taint, after all. Why should burying this spare him of aught at all?

He exhales, the Drukhari’s writhing, the way his body leaned back as the venom took hold of his veins… Heinrix felt shameful arousal. “Perhaps.” He offered his neck to the searching teeth and allows him to nip for moments just long enough to release his blood in beads. Before his grip tightens and he stood to his full height again, peering down at his prize. This was certainly some kind of triumph. Of what, he was still not entirely certain.

“But then how might I play with you if I languish under the selfsame numbing draught?” He asks, genuine confusion lacing his tone as his brows knit into a frown. “No,” he pauses, letting Marazhai slide down his leg a few inches with a careful descent. “I have another idea. If you’ll sate my curiosity.”

He slid his hand up the pale nape to clutch at the bound tail of pitch hair. Knowingly, he simpers with one corner of his mouth and curls his fingers inward, deftly excising the bones and leather that held it. Such terrible little accoutrements. He allows them free and, hand still gripping his hair, lifts him from his leg and dangles him a short distance away. Only for moments, mind, before he lowers him to the floor. To Heinrix’s boots.

Heinrix, with a level look, turns his boot on its heel and presses the toe over the slender neck with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I imagine…,” he bares his teeth, but the way his grin reaches his eyes suggested play, not betrayal. “You’ll have no further complaints?”

The venomblade rose, poised. Heinrix’s bicolour, silvered gaze pinpoints a spot at Marazhai’s belly. Nowhere sure to be lethal, he thinks, before his eyes flicker upwards knowingly. “Do tell me if I hit anything I should not.” He offers, voice a slither, as he allows the blade’s weight to sink into the pale flesh.

Marazhai recognised their likeness with satisfying simpers as he shifted beneath him, eyes rolling away and then back in snapping gazes at the words.

Such a reluctant veil needn't remain over the mind, interrogator. Was it so necessary, after all, with that blade in your hand? Marazhai gorged on the blood plucked from his pale flesh until he was made to sit, disallowed from chasing.

But then how might I play--

"You would not. You would be simply indisposed for my uses." Marazhai grins, moans, brow flattened as he lingers by the leg so near to him with claws hooked against his flesh. Muscular meat and underclothes. Clutching him as he did sent his nerves in live wires through his mind and back again looped in black insanity.

No.

He frowns through his convulsions, clawing to remind him of this. Of him, the pet, himself the gnawing predator even under allure.

I have another idea. If you'll sate my curiosity.

Oh?

Those eyes drag up to him with increasing effort and he purrs, his own gut twisting in aroused pain as he chases Heinrix's hand with, for just a moment, a hiss. He would see his hair undone? Why? Marazhai complains with claws scraping up the leg even as he felt the venom coursing from heart to distal limbs, fingertips numbing under his grip white-cold as the venom diluted around his body.

"And what is the source of this fascination with my hair..?" He growls, throaty and strangled, as he feels his scalp loosen of the pressure and the bones and strappings simply fall away. For what purpose? His nape was already bared to him, flesh clotting with gooey black as Marazhai coiled his neck in the testing grip. The sneer around his fangs and lips grows as the pressure does.

Weight curling over his own scalp again as he was forced into the air and it earns his silence. A moment of fear coiled into the immense pleasure of clarity-- no no, this was no betrayal. A moment spent against the weight of his own writhing shadow draws out a horrendous giggle as he was returned to the floor again, slithering down.

"Ooohoh… you test the boundaries between us so readily, van Calox." He hisses, further down. Made to prostrate against cold steel where his gaze came face to face with one of the Interrogator's boots, flanks lifted in rebellion for moments before he was moved onto his back.

Marazhai presents himself and his throat as the boot finds it and, squashed beneath it, struggles just enough to breathe. His eyes glaze over quickly under duress and anticipation. And much worse yet was he capable of. How much worse? Marazhai's hips roll in an elegant arch as he adjusts himself beneath the showing teeth like he was pinned beneath a hound.

"No, no..." Marazhai croons, eyes awakening wide on the venomblade. The shape of it was suddenly glazed over in feral wildness as the toxin forced him to writhe, instincts split like shattered bone under the attention of the blade.

Oh, he would not. He would tell him no such thing- his own belly sinking against his gut in open, breathless finality.

The blade plunges through his belly and the drukhari shudders violently beneath it first, sensation enough to make him relent his grip. His gaze flitters to Heinrix and then the blade and then the space between his boots as his head and body roll back with a moan.

It sinks until it touches the floor beneath through his flesh and he felt it, belly and body split beneath him. Ordinary in its measures-- but burning through him with venom's caress as the toxin bleeds into the split cavity of his abdomen. As the particolour stare above scrutinises his easy torture.

Marazhai's brows knit in pleasure as the arch of his back over the blade allows him to thrust his flesh against it, carving him open inches more.

Simple, easy agony. Unrewarding at the hand of all others. At the interrogator's gaze above- Marazhai lets a sigh whimper from his nose as he finds himself roiling through a climax induced by the pain, blood thickening inside his inky cavity.

It was a small and pathetic release that did nothing to sate him, as he holds his gaze uneasily over the split-colour eyes, head rolling over his own hair pooling behind him like blood also.

Marazhai's hands lift and flex in convulsions as he takes the blade between his fingers, bare skin curling over it and bleeding itself on the edge with a struggling breath from flared nostrils. Fangs show themselves in suspension.

"Is there not more? I know what you are capable of." He writhes.