#and maybe heinrix too... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inquisitornocturn · 18 days ago

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◇─ 𝕶𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕬𝖑𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖊𝖗 ─◇

⚜ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Heinrix van Calox x Diana von Valancius

⚜ 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: Canon-typical violence, interrogation, use of biomancy, religious imagery, arguing, jealousy, devotion, smut, PiV, rough sex, creampie, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, overstimulation (mild), squirting, fluff.

⚜ 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Even after giving up his rosette, Heinrix finds it hard to shake the habits he formed over the decades while serving as the Inquisition's agent. It reaches a boiling point when many errors of the crew accumulate to a point the Master of Whispers cannot ignore any longer. He decides to take action, only to be reminded by the one he devoted himself to, Diana, that demands of the dynasty are not the same as of the entire Imperium.

⚜ 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 9,342 | on AO3

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: For @misscoet. Hope you like it ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) (Inspired by this drawing done by Coet herself)

He saw the man standing there, doing nothing. In and on itself that should mean nothing, usually it means nothing at all, but something draws Heinrix’s attention that yet another deck officer is slacking on his duties. He has found them sleeping, drunk, absorbed in a card game or outright not even in their stations before. And while making sure that efficiency of guards upon the ship is not his direct responsibility, Heinrix soon found that some habits die hard.

The switch wasn’t easy for him. Leaving the Inquisition, giving away his rosette, but some have done it before him and so he made that decision too. Not one of the many, but one of the lucky few who defined the Holy Ordos and lived to tell the tale. That switch, however, one from being a High Interrogator to being her Master of Whispers, didn’t come without a cost. Everything he was familiar with he gave up for her. Her, Diana, who even right now is on his mind while he’s observing a man leisurely leaning against the railing, lho stick in mouth, not a care in the world.

Diana von Valancius, the Rogue Trader, the Lord Captain, the Lady of her House. But titles didn’t matter to Heinrix then and they don’t matter now. To him – she’s his Diana. His silver-haired mistress, one that rules his heart and soul. So yes, the decision wasn’t an easy, nor adapting to it was effortless, but he has done it because he loves her more than anything. More than duty. And that love runs deeper than faith. Just another one of the many heresies he has fallen into since he switched red, gold and black for gold and blue. But if his feelings make him a sinner, so be it. He accepted it long ago already.

Still, training he have received in the Inquisition has been useful in Heinrix’s new line of duty. Maybe he’s not capable of openly interrogating people, and neither he has a rosette, that was heavier than any duty by the sheer weight of responsibilities it represented, but Heinrix has his methods. His working methods that he knows Diana doesn’t always approve of. Yet sometimes, he knows just as much as she, greater good outweighs the lamentations of few.

But it’s not all. Lately, and Heinrix has to admit this to himself as well, he has grown irritable, easy to snap at those below him. Eager to see conspiracy almost everywhere he looks. If Diana noticed anything she hasn’t said a thing to him yet, but he suspects that if not outright seeing his moods as of late, she at least must sense it. And he has to fix it, before she has any substantial reason to address it to him directly. Heinrix must find the reason that is making his instincts, honed by the decades at His Most Holy Ordos, ring like red, flashing emergency lights.

This man. This man. He may be the lead Heinrix is looking for. And with a scrutinizing gaze, the Master of Whispers observes this guard from the shadows he has taken as a disguise. Unshaven, eyes red and bleary, uniform not tucked in properly. When Heinrix’s eyes sweep over the las weapon, slung over the guard’s shoulder, he notices that it’s not even cleaned properly, having greasy thumbprints all over it.

Unacceptable.

How do soldiers of the Von Valancius dynasty can represent the might and glory of their Mistress if they look like rats scuttling in the underbelly of some hive? How can this man come forward with good conscience during Abelard’s inspections? How can he-

Heinrix stops himself and closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Breathe, he tells himself. Breathe, calm down, you’re better than this, you know better than this. You have been-

What exactly has he been?

Rising his eyes to the guard again, Heinrix summarizes his past briefly and efficiently: a soldier, an agent, an interrogator. A warrior of justice and guardian of Humanity. But what he is now?

Before Heinrix can start summarizing himself not as a High Interrogator but as a Master of Whispers, he sees Diana’s face in mind’s eye. Her soft smile and how skin around her eyes crinkles; her touch, so tender but full of emotion she sometimes lacks the words for; her lips right after he kisses them every night, swollen from his passionate need of her.

Heinrix is… hers.

And it doesn’t matter what other titles he can put on himself or his current duties. He chose this. For her. For her. And that’s all that he thinks of.

Yet the blissful image of Diana’s face, blushing and damp with sweat, that looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes just last night, disappears the moment this filthy guard Heinrix is observing throws butt of the lho on the ground and spits too.

Enough.

With firm steps and muscles tensing, Heinrix strides from beneath the embrace of shadow and approaches the man. The guard, startled and now wide-eyed, tries to salute his superior, but Heinrix is in no mood for games. Instead, he grips the shirt on the guard’s chest and holds it tightly in his fists, bringing the terrified face closer. With a snarl and a deep frown, Van Calox gives him a shake, nearly lifting him from the floor. “You’re coming with me.”

“S-sir.” The guard tries to protest, maybe plead for mercy in advance, but Heinrix does not listen.

He releases the man, making him stumble backwards and run into the railing behind, then Heinrix grabs the back of his neck and begins walking. The guard can barely keep up, especially with Master of Whispers holding his head down while leading him somewhere else, somewhere more secluded. Heinrix is done playing around and he’s fed up with Abelard’s leniency. Even Diana’s tolerance is grinding on his nerves right now. How can they not see what is becoming of her very own vessel and the people here? How they are succumbing to laziness and improper behaviors. If not for her clemency, that many might take advantage of if she’s not careful, every single soul on this voidship will slip into heresy.

He can’t allow that to happen. And with that thought Heinrix drags the man who’s sputtering apologies and pleas for mercy while trying not to stumble and fall. His struggles ignored and pathetic words falling on deaf ears, the guard only hopes he won’t get killed. That’s his only hope, because even though he’s new to the crew, he still heard what Master van Calox was. Agent of the Inquisition. And the very thought makes him nearly wet his pants.

“I don’t know what I did, I-“ The man stumbles, nearly biting his tongue.

“Shut up.” Heinrix responds. Not in a shout, but in a stern command and the guard whimpers, yet remains quiet for only a handful of seconds.

Ignoring the babble spilling out of the captive’s mouth like dribble, Heinrix briefly looks around and realizes he has lucked out because he ran into nobody so far. Who knows what kind of loyal rat will run to Werserian, instructed to report to the seneschal the moment Heinrix drifts from Diana’s side.

The old Navy officer never stopped being suspicious of Van Calox, neither he stopped being vigilant around him. Some stains don’t wash off easy. Being a former agent of the Golden Throne appears to be exactly such a stain, at least in Abelard’s eyes. So Heinrix learned to be cautious, even more so than he was before as an interrogator. He learned not to wield his justice like a flaming sword, but like a hidden needle. And time has come to sink said needle into yet another tainted artery.

After confirming there’s no one around, Heinrix tugs the guard by the neck again and resumes walking, looking at doors leading to variety of compartments. From passages to corridors and other sectors of the spaceship, to storage rooms and even some archival chambers with records so old that their relevance expired before even Theodora’s predecessors were born, Heinrix decides to choose a steel door on his right. It’s unmarked and he’s not sure what’s behind it. With a vessel so big one would need two lifetimes to explore it and even that might not be enough, but Van Calox has no choice, he has to act swiftly. His luck might run out and the blasted seneschal might appear, nipping at his heels like an annoying, emaciated dog.

After Heinrix flashes an electoo on his wrist to the reader on the wall, it grants permission to enter and Master of Whispers pulls the man, still held by the neck, in front of himself and pushes him inside. The guard stumbles but doesn’t fall, hands cartwheeling as he tries to find some sort of stability on his legs, but Heinrix remains still for a second, with eyes sweeping over the area. It’s a utility closet.

Heinrix sees steel shelves with rusted edges and some lockers that have two out of three of its doors open. Rags and buckets, mops and brooms cover the walls. Sanitation and cleaning liquids and powders line the shelves and the floor. He even sees some coats hanging from the hooks, partially eaten by moths. A single lightbulb, hanging by a cord from the ceiling, swings lightly, mostly from the gust of wind that the opening door have created. But it’s clear that no one has entered this space in years. Cobwebs only confirm it, hanging thick and heavy yet without their occupants, from the corners and the shelves.

The man Heinrix dragged with him whirls around and looks terrified. His face is sweaty and eyes, despite still being bloodshot and rimmed red, are begging wordlessly. “Please, Master van Calox, please, what did I do?”

Crinkling his nose at man’s pathetic behavior, the Master of Whispers steps inside at last and the door shuts behind him, sealing him and his prey in this secluded little room that now will become a confessional cell.

“Tell me your name.” Heinrix begins and prepares to use his powers, which in turn make the air around him colder. The guard doesn’t notice that yet, the only thing he’s seeing is cruelty in the eyes of a man who has trapped him.

“M-M-Magren, Master van Calox.” Bottom lip trembles, fingers are stiff. Heinrix sees it all and makes one step closer. It’s clear that Magren wants to pull back but holds his ground and that’s the only thing commendable about him.

“Tell me, Guard Magren, why your appearance is lacking today? Why you feel free to smoke and spit on the decks? Why your las rifle is far from what regulations demand of you?” Heinrix makes another step and Magren shrinks into himself. “Tell me, Magren, who is permitting you such lousy care of things that have been gracefully given to you by Her Ladyship?”

At last Magren feels the cold air and his eyes flick around briefly, as if trying to find the source of the unpleasant sensation, but then he looks back at Heinrix and tries to speak. At first no words come out, just fragments of one excuse or another, but finally he licks his lips nervously and clears his throat. “N-nobody, Master van Calox.” He says but Heinrix doesn’t believe him and his eyes narrow, suddenly making Magren scramble to clutch his stomach with a painful groan. “M-Master…”

“I will ask you again, Guard. Tell me who is permitting you to become sloppy and lazy. Tell me who is encouraging you to forget standards of the Imperium aboard the very vessel you are sworn to defend and protect?” Another step closer and Heinrix is almost face to face with the man, but Magren can’t look up at him. The pain he’s experiencing is far too big, too consuming and his knees meet in an attempt to remain standing, but that is becoming increasingly difficult with every excruciating second.

“Please, I was just… lazy… Just… myself…”

“Lies.” With a hiss Heinrix stops himself before he strikes the guard but the air grows colder, heavier. It crackles around them, quietly at first but quickly growing louder, like a thunder coming from over a horizon. “You’re not the only one. This is a phenomenon that is spreading like disease through the ranks. Tell me who is showing an example!”

The moment Heinrix rises his voice the guard’s body jerks, back arching almost too impossibly for a human being. Hands fly away from his stomach and open as if he’s welcoming an embrace. Magren’s face, sweaty and twisted with pain and horror, stars to change in color. From pale, to red, turning blue. Eyes do not see, they just move seizure-like, incapable of focus. If Heinrix pushes him even a fraction more, the guard will break.

“TELL ME!” He roars, losing patience, and with growing fury at having no answer yet. Air around him begins to change color, turning sickly purple, and the crackles gain a visual element of same thunderous quality, blinking and then disappearing, then blinking again all around them. It would be beautiful if it weren’t so deadly.

“Heinrix?”

A voice he almost fails to pay attention to. For just a second he thinks it’s in his head. The soft tone, familiar timbre, how gently his name is called. But that’s an illusion, the softness, and he quickly realizes that it’s not his imagination or his conscience suddenly weighting upon him in the form of Diana.

So when he turns and sees her behind him, door standing open to the utility closet that he converted into his own secret, hidden inquisitorial office, Heinrix looks at her face, pale and shocked. Diana’s grey eyes move from her Master of Whispers to the guard and it looks almost like she wants to rush in, to help, but restrains herself.

“Stop, Heinrix, you’re killing him.” She says and her eyes find his, communicating a harsher order than her tone of voice does. “Release him.”

“Diana.” He suddenly scoffs, feeling righteous and defiant in his duty to protect the dynasty, to protect her. “You don’t understand what’s happening right underneath your nose.” Turning to gesture at the man, who progressed far beyond his unfocused eyes and has fallen into the pit of pain so severe that his whole body is seizing now, shaking, which appears agonizing, Heinrix hesitates, then looks back at Diana. Confidence in his ability to convince her halts for a moment, a thought emerging that he might not succeed in doing so.

Because what he sees in Diana’s face is not agreement, but pity. No, not pity either, but sorrow she’s trying to disguise. And then that gets replaced by expression Heinrix can’t call anything else than disapproval. Hesitant to keep pushing, he is still eager to make her see his point. So he steps from the man and with the distraction some relief comes to the guard. While his muscles are still taunt and he’s spasming, it’s less now. And the mouth that until now was unable to move at all, locked in a voiceless scream, begins to strainingly attempt to form words even if his voice hasn’t been returned to him yet.

“Heinrix, this is unacceptable.” Diana shakes her head and crosses arms on her chest. Yet he approaches her, appreciating the garb she’s wearing, even in a moment like this. Her simple white blouse, a skirt that goes to her ankles but slits in it show just enough of her legs. Not often she shows her legs and Heinrix nearly forgets why they are both here, his collar becoming tighter for a moment until he recollects the situation he’s in. Only able to do so because of her las pistol and dagger strapped at her waist, acting as grim reminders.

“Diana.” He tries to reach for her hands but she steps to the side and the automatic door closes as she moves away, making Heinrix briefly glance at it then back at her, only to be met with a frown.

No, this is not right. He wants her to look at him with love again, with devotion that his heart yearns to return and to serve. Van Calox clears his throat and tries again, tries to reach for her hands only to be denied once more by another sidestep. He gives up and speaks.

“Diana, there is something aboard your vessel. Like a rot that keeps spreading. The guards are losing their attentiveness not only to their things and uniforms, but also to any possible dangers onboard. Do you understand what that might lead to? To mutinies, to insurrections, to heresy and corruption.”

“Release the guard, Heinrix.” Diana says and it’s not a request, but a quiet command that makes Heinrix freeze. She rarely uses this tone of voice, one of the Lord Captain, and even rarer this voice is directed at him, which makes a chill run down the Master of Whisper’s spine and coil in an icy rope at the pit of his stomach.

“Diana-“

“You heard me, Heinrix. Release him.” She demands and Heinrix looks back at the guard, then grits his teeth. If only she understood, if only she allowed him to do his job that she herself assigned to him when he-

With a sigh Heinrix withdraws his powers and Magren crumples to the floor in a heap of a panting, sobbing mess. The purplish hue disappears, taking with it the crackles and the cold, despite leaving remnants of it in a form of frost upon the nearest items and rusted steel shelves.

“Here, happy? I was just doing-“ Heinrix turns back to Diana, fully expecting to see her features softer and her eyes more tender, but that’s not his reality. Instead, Diana is watching him with grim disapproval. Nothing changed in her scowl and Heinrix’s Adam apple bobs as he swallows, betraying his increasing nervousness. Did he push too far? He was only doing his duty. Only what is asked of him because of his role on the Lux Sempiterna. “Diana…” The word falls from his lips like a hopeless prayer and Heinrix’s hands relax by his sides, shoulders losing tension.

When she says nothing, he looks back at the man who is trying to gather himself, pathetic sobs raking his chest to the point Magren is almost dry-heaving. And then it sinks in, just how far Heinrix went for an answer that was never coming. Maybe he was too diligent, overzealous in his paranoia to protect the woman he loves. Maybe Diana is right.

Maybe she was right all along.

Conflicted and torn between his training, that is as much a part of him as his own mind, Heinrix steps to Magren and lingers, not sure what to do. At first he does nothing, hoping for the man to stand on his own, but that doesn’t appear to be happening soon. So with a sneer that Heinrix quickly tucks away behind the stony expression, he leans and lifts the man up to his feet, holding onto his arm until Magren doesn’t look like he’s going to fold back onto the floor. He expects Diana to approach and perhaps make sure that the guard is okay, but he doesn’t hear the sound of her boots and thus is left alone to deal with consequences of his actions. All while under the judgmental look of a woman he has sworn himself to, through love and battle, no matter what.

Magren looks dazed and when he lifts his eyes to Heinrix it’s like he doesn’t recognize the Master of Whispers. His head is rolling on his shoulder, appearing on a verge of falling down, mannequin-like, but at last partial clarity comes and fear fills the guard’s eyes. Heinrix ignores it and begins leading the man to the door. But the further they go, the more Magren starts pulling aside, until he’s practically pushing Heinrix away, terrified eyes flicking between him and Diana.

“Go.” She says quietly and the guard backs away from Van Calox, then turns and begins pressing the rune so fast it could break before it even registers what it needs to do.

The door, clearly needing maintenance from tech-priests, finally reacts to the frantic repeated command and opens, letting out Magren who runs off, leaving the echoes of scared sobs in his wake before the door sliding into place again cuts them off and his departing footsteps.

Heinrix just looks at the steel, hesitating to face Diana in the oppressing silence of the utility room and closes his eyes, inhaling slowly, but deeply. Then he exhales and turns to her, immediately being met with that same disapproving look that hasn’t budged on her face from the moment it appeared there.

He needs to fix this.

With a heavy heart and uncharacteristic nervousness when approaching the woman he loves, Heinrix moves towards her, drawing closer slowly, carefully, as if afraid to spook her. But Diana doesn’t appear like she’s about to run away like Magren did. She stands her ground, arms still crossed, one knee luring Heinrix’s eyes to the pale skin that his fingers itch to touch, to caress. But he forces himself to focus and swallows dryly, tugging on the collar of his dark blue uniform.

“Can you at least hear me out?” He asks and stops, not coming closer than he wishes, but giving Diana space and she looks at him, pale grey digging through his skull like she’s trying to read his utmost intimate thoughts.

“Speak then. Tell me what behavior earns someone to be put through that, Heinrix.” She pauses and Heinrix inhales, but Diana continues. “Tell me what that man did that you needed to use your sorcery on him.”

“Diana-“

“Explain to me, so that I can understand, why exactly you needed to take that guard here and torture him for answers he could’ve simply been asked.”

“If you would just listen-“

“No, you listen, Heinrix.” Diana steps to him now, closing the space between them, but not close enough for the familiar intimacy he’s used to. That she’s used to, too. Her features are hard, sharp glaciers under the blanket of fresh snow, and Heinrix balls fingers into fists at his sides, jaw clenching tightly. “Listen to me and actually hear me. I forbid you to…” She hesitates, but only for a moment, knowing that this might be too much but her anger, something she hasn’t expected to feel when looking at Heinrix, is demanding that she makes a point. One he won’t forget. “…use your interrogational techniques on my people. Inquisition is your past and you need to accept that. We don’t do things that way, Heinrix. This is my vessel and my guards. My soldiers and my servants. Things can be done without blind cruelty.”

Blind cruelty. Is this how she sees his effort? His devotion to her and what she holds dear? Eyebrows furrowing and Heinrix’s emotions swinging between wanting to relent and his absolute need to make Diana see his way, he finally settles on trying to convince her.

“It’s not my interrogational techniques. They are just tools at my disposal that I am not going to stop using just because you find them unsavory.” His eyes flick to Diana’s lips, to her neck looking so inviting behind the unbuttoned collar of her shirt, still bearing marks of his passionate kisses in a form of gentle bruises, but he forces his eyes on hers again only to be met with the same frown that he wanted to make disappear.

“It’s more than unsavory, Heinrix.” Diana pushes back and he sees that she’s not going to relent and listen to him like she has before, when he still wore his rosette. Did things really change that much? He shakes that thought away and steps even closer to her, getting into Diana’s personal space but she still keeps looking at him, face upturned and defiant. No, not defiant, Heinrix corrects himself after trying to define her in his mind, but authoritative.

“What do you expect from me?” He suddenly scoffs and then a bitter thought crosses his mind, one he tries to disperse but one that refuses to leave. “Would you order Jae like this too?”

“You can’t be seriously bringing her up in this.” Her frown deepens more, if that’s even possible and she struggles not to say something she might regret.

“I’m just wondering if our illustrious Lord Captain would order her former lover. You didn’t seem too keen to do that when Mistress Heydari was warming your bed.”

The silence that falls between them is deafening and Heinrix sees a sharp edge appear in Diana’s eyes, emphasized even more by the shadows under them. Many responses stream through her brain, none of them kind, but she clenches her jaw for a moment, trying to prevent anything that would do more damage than good escaping her tightly pressed lips. Still, there’s a degree of anger that is growing hotter every time Heinrix opens his mouth, that is becoming harder to ignore. It’s not the first time they are fighting, arguing when what they believe in begins to clash, and it won’t be the last. But it still doesn’t make Diana relent or wish to placate him this time any more than it did previous times.

Slowly, she exhales through her nose, barely making any sound despite the agonizing silence in the room and she tilts her head slightly to the side, appearing as if either trying to understand him or is inviting the challenge of his argument.

“I can’t believe you’re still jealous about that.”

“Jealous?” Immediately Heinrix snaps back, barely containing his tone of voice to the polite one. Despite the exasperation and feelings of injustice, he still doesn’t want to rise his voice at her, and his feelings for Diana run deeper than the anger that is simmering on the surface at the moment. “I’m not jealous, Diana. I’m just wondering where I stand in comparison to your past lovers.”

“Are you implying that I’m treating you worse than Jae?” Diana’s jaw moves and Heinrix doesn’t see but her fingers clench tightly, hidden beneath folded arms.

Heinrix inhales, but despite wanting a moment to close his eyes and just breathe, he keeps looking at Diana. “That’s not what I am saying. Diana.” Fingers twitching, the Master of Whispers wants to reach out to her so badly, to feel her soft, warm hands in his, but he staves the craving by reminding why they are here in the first place. “I just want you to consider why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

“I know this.” She answers immediately and Heinrix blinks, surprised for a second.

“Then why-“

“Because as I said in the beginning – I don’t approve of your methods. I don’t want you running around and literally torturing my people. Guards or not, whatever the reason you have, Heinrix, you should bring it up to me first.”

“But I have!” Aggravated, he gestures towards the closed door, where Magren disappeared most likely never to return after what he experienced. “I told you about men like that guard, how they seem to be slacking on their duties and their presentation. Uniforms filthy, guns in dire need of recalibration, disrespecting the very corridors they walk.” With a scowl Heinrix remembers the smoking and the spitting, but Diana just shakes her head slightly.

“You told me and didn’t even wait for me to tell about our findings. Do you really think I ignored your report? That I did nothing when you brought your genuine concerns to me?”

And Heinrix understands just how blind he has been. His eyes flick to the door again, then to Diana who, the moment he releases from his gaze, walks to the spot where Magren fell after being released from the agonizing suspension. She doesn’t bend down, she doesn’t need to. To see what is left there, spittle and tears, drops of sweat and palm prints of wet hands. Diana sighs and shakes her head slightly again. It didn’t have to come to this and maybe she should’ve spoken to Heinrix too, instead of waiting until she had something to report back to him. But she chose not to and it led to this.

Heinrix doesn’t see the pondering expression upon Diana’s face because he’s too focused on thoughts in his own head and they are spinning fast, making him feel more miserable by the second. What led to this? To a point where he didn’t trust not only the Mistress of her vessel but didn’t trust her, Diana. He didn’t trust her and that realization begins clawing at Heinrix from within like desperate vermin trying to escape the flames. Except the flames of shame are fast and fiercer than he could’ve anticipated.

“Diana, I’m…” He trails off, not sure how to proceed and Diana turns to look at him, hands finally unfolding and hanging limp by her sides.

The anger that was on her face softens a fraction. She doesn’t want to be angry with him and she does understand where he is coming from, but still, acting without her explicit permission was too much and finally Heinrix realizes this too.

He makes one tentative step towards her, then another, until he’s right in front of Diana, eyes looking apologetically at her and her heart skips a beat at the face that is showing guilt. Strangely, it hurts her too, even if not as much as it pains him.

“Heinrix, I don’t want to hear another one of your excuses-“ She begins but stops the moment Heinrix drops to his knees before her.

He remains still for a second, unmoving, defeated. Only her pale knee is before his eyes, surrounded by the dark fabric of her skirt. Same color as the uniform he’s wearing. And he reaches for it, even though he expects Diana to step back and deny him once again. But he doesn’t see her expression and that it finally has softened. Affection mixed with just a degree of sadness reflects upon her face, almost regretting being so stern with him. She knows that he does these things out of love and she wishes she could tell him that she forgives him, but she can’t. Not yet. Diana remembers the face of the guard, whatever his name is, and her insides clench with a feeling she can’t quite name.

“Forgive me, Diana.” He whispers, rough fingers ghosting gently over the exposed patch of skin, not quite touching but not pulling back either. “Forgive me.” Heinrix repeats and Diana inhales, trying to find her words but none come.

After just a moment, his fingertips do make contact and Diana pauses, briefly biting her bottom lip at the electricity that runs through her at the touch, but she just looks down on him, letting him proceed, letting him beg for her forgiveness.

Heinrix’s face is raked with guilt, but if it's genuine or just for her sake, Diana can’t tell. Sometimes when he is like this, using his old ways of feigning emotions or hiding them entirely, she struggles to tell what's truth, from what he wants her truth to be. That touch, gentle, at her knee, ghosts like a feather upwards and she slides her fingers between his combed hair, looking down at a man who has sworn to protect her and everything that is hers. One that swore more than his life to Diana, more than anyone else ever promised her, and with such conviction that she had no other choice but to believe him.

It is slow, how he touches her. Careful, enticing. Fingers as soft as much as they can be vicious, when Heinrix's duty demands it of him. Higher, and higher more until the slit in her skirt is not enough of an access, until the fabric lifts to crumple in folds on Heinrix's knuckles as his hands move. A gentle touch and a careful tug on the waistband of her underwear beneath the skirt and her gaze becomes even softer, met by his eyes that are still craving for her mercy, for absolution of his sins that only she can bestow upon him. A tug, gentle one, like he's testing if Diana will permit him and she does, so he hooks a thumb over the elastic waistband and pulls lower, letting soft fabric of her panties roll down her thighs, becoming more of a bind than an article of clothing. Something that he might use or discard, but right now he just wants them off her.

“What are you doing?” She finally asks in a voice that he is accustomed to. One of gentle submission that makes Heinrix’s chest tighter and his loins begin burning with less guilt and more of a desire, which starts taking over the forefront of his mind almost immediately.

“I want to apologize.” He says and glances up Diana, eyes filled with genuine regret that she cannot dismiss as his attempt to placate her any longer. “I want you to understand that no matter what, you mean everything to me.”

Her panties, finally drawn low enough, land around her ankles and with other hand she strokes the side of Heinrix’s face. But when she’s about to respond to his declaration, Heinrix grips the sides of Diana’s thighs and begins kissing her knee. Lips trail higher and she forgets what were the words that were meant to be said. She just watches how with eyes closed her Master of Whispers plants his kisses higher, then moves to the inner side of her thigh, making Diana begin to blush gently.

“Heinrix.” She whispers. “Not here, let’s just go.” But whether he hears her or just chooses to ignore her, Diana cannot tell because the next moment his face is against her, between her legs as much as the skirt will allow it, and after a pause Heinrix inhales her scent through the fabric.

Diana gasps gently and her fingers grip his hair slightly tighter, while lips part the moment her heart begins beating faster. “I need you, more than you know.” He whispers, making breath in Diana’s chest stop for several heartbeats. “I need you, Diana. So much. Throne take you, what are you doing to me.”

Last words are spoken in loving frustration and Heinrix suddenly stands, making Diana waver on her feet slightly at the abruptness of it, but there’s no chance of her falling, because Heinrix grabs her by the waist and pulls her against him, lips crashing against hers. Diana immediately takes a hold on his arms, feeling muscles tensing beneath the jacket of his uniform. She does not put up a fight when Heinrix pushes his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply and stealing the air from her very lungs. Kissing back, Diana lets her eyes close and her body responds to the presence of a man that her heart beats for.

Yet before she can suggest one more time that they should maybe retreat to chambers of the Lord Captain, Heinrix is already pushing Diana against the nearest wall. She bumps into the hanging coats, her feet kick at the bottles on the floor and they tumble and scatter when Heinrix absentmindedly kicks them out of his way. His fingers release her waist and pull open her shirt, ripping couple buttons out. He hears them drop onto the ground but barely registers that. Instead, he pulls back, leaving Diana’s lips wet and swelling, a manifest to the intensity of Heinrix’s kiss and before she can say or do anything, he expertly pulls her breasts out of the bra, his hands cupping them both and pushing them together so that he can lean in and wrap his lips around one hard nipple, then the next.

Diana gasps and flushes even more, but the desire has started roaring inside of her too. So what if this outdated utility closet is full of dust and cobwebs, so what if they met here because something less than pleasant was happening, was being done to one of her guards. It’s Heinrix with her now, and he wants her with such need that it’s impossible not to give what he craves. So she moves her hands to his belt but Heinrix catches them immediately, letting her breasts cool in the room’s air where his saliva wetted her nipples, and kisses one hand first, then another. For a moment his eyes find hers and he hesitates as if wanting to say something, but then simply presses himself against the body of her and kisses Diana deeply once again, in a kiss so passionate its almost bruising.

“Forgive me.” He whispers between the kisses and unbuckles his belt. She shouldn’t do even this much, he will do everything. He will please her. He will earn Diana’s forgiveness, because no matter what he has done or will do in the future – her absolution matters to Heinrix infinitely more than Emperor’s ever would. “Forgive me, Diana.” Heinrix says in heated whispers and his lips trail to the side of her neck, to leave more gentle bruises that are deeper in shades of blue than the others already there, that are his mark upon her body that no one else can take away or replace.

But this is not something that Diana can simply forgive for. They need to talk about this, find a common ground, a solution, a promise not to act rash and keep each other informed. She gets to say none of this, her voice of reason gets taken away before she can utter a single word because Heinrix hands grip her hips and lift her, making the woman gently gasp at the unexpected sensation of losing ground beneath her feet. She grabs onto Heinrix’s shoulders and her legs wrap around his waist as if on command while he looks at her and kisses her once more.

“Forgive me.” He whispers once more with hot breath against her mouth and thrusts in deep. With a cry of pleasure at being filled so utterly and so swiftly, Diana only clings to Heinrix and exhales with another moan. Arousal that has pooled between her legs makes Heinrix’s passionate invasion swift and all-consuming. No more thoughts in her head except for her need of him.

Heinrix pulls back from the kiss, his fingers gripping her hips until he changes his mind and uses one hand to hold Diana by the jaw so that her face is turned straight at him, their noses almost touching, so that he can see pleasure etching itself in every pore of her face. And with his eyes on her heavy-lidded ones, he begins to move.

That first hard and deep thrust makes Diana tense and then relax when Heinrix draws back. Then another thrust that, just like the first, pulls out a loud gasp from her throat. She tries to say his name but it gets cut off with yet another snap of his hips. It’s not gentle, how he begins to fuck her, but it’s not meant to hurt her either. And Diana does not hurt. Despite Heinrix beginning to move with hard, sharp thrusts that fill her completely, all Diana feels is pleasure that makes her heart race and want for more.

“Don’t stop.” She says suddenly and Heinrix’s eyes cloud with lust so consuming that he wouldn’t stop even if she begged him to.

“Diana, my love…” He breathes and releases her jaw only to grip her hip again so that she does not slip out of his grasp. His hips snap against her again and Diana cries out, leaning her head back and releasing Heinrix’s shoulders to find purchase somewhere else.

Her hands grope around, among the coats she’s pressed against and above her, to the frosted shelves. Fingers make the items on the shelf topple down, falling around them, and the brooms fall with a clatter of plasteel upon the rockrete ground, but neither of them even notices this. Heinrix is focused on his rough, powerful pumps that make Diana’s toes curl in her boots, with her panties still dangling from one of the ankles against Heinrix’s back, and she just takes it. His love, his devotion, his need to absolve himself of sins that have been committed out of love.

With eyes closing and moans marking every thrust with a loud cry, Diana arches her back, her pleasure building rapidly. The way his cock slides in and then almost fully out of her, the way Heinrix fucks into her as if salvation of his very soul depends on it, like nothing matters and never will, it makes Diana’s world swim. It makes her body tense around him, making Heinrix groan the way her body clings to his length when he draws back just to fuck into her again. “Diana, I can’t-“ Words cut themselves off when Heinrix thrusts harshly again and it would be painful if it didn’t feel so damn good.

But at hearing Heinrix’s voice Diana looks at him with a flushed face and she releases the shelf above her with just one hand, only to wrap it around his neck, to dig her nails at the back of it, feeling sweat beneath the collar of his uniform jacket. In turn Heinrix presses his damp forehead against hers and groans when another deep push brings him closer to the climax that he can’t help but chase. “Forgive me…” He whispers again, voice strained and grip of his fingers on her hips so hard it will leave bruises for days to come. “Diana…” A prayer and Heinrix kisses her as he groans at the back of his throat when his thrusts become erratic, as he begins spilling deep inside of her.

And feeling him hold her so tightly, feeling his hips jerk in movements that are signaling his chase after the pleasure, Diana realizes that she’s not far behind him. And when he’s almost done, when the fullness that Heinrix is giving her almost becomes too much and starts seeping out of Diana before he’s even done, is when Diana finds herself tensing around Heinrix’s cock and parting her lips for loud moans right against his mouth.

She cries out, again and again as Heinrix thrusts into her with a few last shoves, but when her body grips onto his cock tightly Heinrix moans again, letting her take every last drop of what he can offer to Diana. His voice becomes almost a whine from the pleasure, a strained moan that threatens to make Heinrix tremble, but he holds her tightly and offers few last pumps before the remnants of his orgasm leave him. And he watches Diana’s face, contorted with pleasure, her hot breaths against his mouth and listens moans that are more beautiful than any psalm he has ever heard, right until she stops spasming around him and in his grasp. Until she relaxes and just remains still for a moment, drawing deep breaths that at first are pulled into her lungs with little moans which soon fall off in favor of recovery.

“My Diana.” Heinrix whispers and she manages to open her eyes only to be greeted by the face of a man she loves. This close the different colors of his eyes are clearly visible and damp temples have his hair sticking to them, but the soft look and the flush on Heinrix’s face is what makes Diana suddenly fall in love with him again, for a millionth, trillionth time.

He kisses her gently, sweeping his tongue over her upper lip, then the bottom one and before she can kiss him back, Heinrix draws back, then gently places Diana onto the floor. Her knees feel weak, but she’s still gripping the back of his neck and the shelf above and therefore she stays upright. Her skirt, horribly creased and still bunched up at her waist, begins sliding down, threatening to cover the pale thighs that Heinrix is looking at now. And he grips the fabric, keeping it at her hip before he drops to his knees again, slipping from the grasp of Diana’s fingers.

Leaning in, Heinrix looks at her, how her arousal is smearing Diana’s inner thighs, how swollen her folds are from the rough lovemaking he has just administered to her. But most importantly he sees his own cum beginning to leak out of her and he can’t help it, he leans it and drags a hot, wet tongue over Diana’s clit, making her gasp and flinch. She’s still sensitive there, still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, but Heinrix does not think about that at all.

Instead he swiftly rises her right leg and drapes it over his own shoulder, holding it in place with his left hand. The right one slides over Diana’s left knee, up the thigh and then without even giving her a glance, he stops the seeping seed by pushing two fingers into her, making Diana gasp. Heinrix’s middle and ring finger slide easily inside of her, being no match to the girth of his cock that stretched her just moments ago and with a breathy whisper Heinrix begins moving his digits, thrusting them just to make sure that another mark that he has left on her does not disappear so soon. “Diana, you are everything. So beautiful, so-“

But her moan cuts Heinrix off and he glances up at her, seeing her flushing face that shows strain from pleasure and stimulation that has come far too soon to be fully pleasant. Her fingers land in Heinrix’s locks again, gripping the dark strands as she shivers every time he thrusts his fingers back into her, her pussy clenching around them as if trying to stop the repeated intrusion. But she’s not asking him to stop, instead she grips the rusty shelf tighter and allows her back to arch.

“Look at yourself.” Heinrix smiles a dreamy kind of smile, one that betrays just how much he loves her and begins pumping his fingers faster. Obscene noises that he makes her pussy create fill the shabby room. “Like an angel. My very own goddess.”

Diana does look, seeing her arousal and his cum mixing because of the way he fucks her with his fingers and she bites her bottom lip, trying not to mewl pathetically when the pleasure begins rapidly building in her again. With trembling fingers she clutches Heinrix’s hair even harder, then her hips buck against him on their own and Diana’s eyes widen for a moment, but Heinrix only smiles, satisfied by her body’s eagerness to give in.

Even so, her pleasure is building too fast, out of her control and Diana tries to speak, gasping amongst the moans that keep pouring out of her mouth. “Heinrix, please-“ Yet she does not get to finish her plea for him to slow down even just a little. Instead he presses his lips to her folds and wraps them around her clit, licking and sucking, pressing the tip of his tongue against it and then licking again.

A cry marks the overstimulation of Diana’s sensations and she throws her head back again, moaning without restraint anymore and Heinrix feels her thighs begin to tremble like they are about to give out. So he holds the one against the side of his head tighter and continues, thrusting his fingers even faster while his tongue relentlessly assaults her swollen clit to the point that not a single thought remains in Diana’s head.

The sweet cries that Heinrix keeps listening to become choked mewls and then a gush of liquid hits his tongue. With only mild surprise, one that borders smug satisfaction, Heinrix pulls back and watches closely how Diana’s body yields to him, surging with pleasure that is followed by an orgasm. Diana’s pussy clenches around his fingers tightly, and instead of trying to move them, he slides a thumb upwards and keeps rubbing her clit as she cries into the ceiling repeatedly, shaking and nearly ripping strands of hair from Heinrix’s scalp with her shaking fist still holding onto there.

The wetness dampens the front of Heinrix’s jacket and pants, but he has no desire to stop until Diana is completely spent and so he keeps circling the pad of his thumb, keeps trying to move his fingers still deep inside of her pussy, until Diana, with couple more spasms finally relaxes, her muscles giving up after the wave of pleasure finally, at last, stops washing over her in mind-blinding waves. Even her breaths now are marked with loud moans and Heinrix finally stops, lifting his adoring gaze to look at the woman that he has never seen more beautiful than now. Yet with a smile Heinrix realizes he always thinks that when she’s like this, spent and exhausted after his venerations.

Gently, so gently, he pulls out his slick fingers out of her and leans in, pressing one last, soft kiss to her pussy before carefully putting Diana’s leg back onto the floor and standing up. He has to act quick because Diana releases the shelf at last and nearly crumples to the floor, so he embraces her immediately, holding her against his chest and kisses the top of Diana’s head, smelling shampoo in her silver hair.

“Heinrix…” She tries to speak, mouth dry and her vocal cords feeling raw from being so loud, but Heinrix only croons and kisses her hair again with a smile.

“Shh, it’s alright, take your time.” He whispers and Diana allows him to hold her while she finds her senses once more.

It takes a minute or so and during it Heinrix keeps holding Diana and gently strokes her back. When she lifts her face to him, Heinrix smiles again and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “All better?”

“That’s one way to apologize.�� Diana says instead of an answer to his question and Heinrix chuckles, then releases her when with a step she pulls back, letting her skirt drop down around her legs at last.

“Was it at least a good apology?” Heinrix asks and she can clearly hear a note of smug mischief in his tone, which makes her chuckle too and she bends down to pick up the panties off the floor, but Heinrix is faster, snatching them and stuffing them into his pocket. “I’ll hold onto that, if you don’t mind.”

With a curious look, Diana almost asks why, but then her eyes are drawn onto the wetness on the rockcrete floor, then to Heinrix, finally noticing his drenched uniform. A new blush appears on Diana’s face and she parts her lips as if to say something, maybe an apology, but Heinrix only laughs and cups her face with both of his palms. “Look at me.” He orders gently and when she obeys he kisses her again, still with that happy smile on his face. “I enjoyed it. Did you?”

“Yes, but-“

“Then it’s all that matters.” He hesitates, but releases her and pressing one last kiss to her still damp cheek, Heinrix takes Diana’s hand and intertwines his fingers with hers. “We should go, before Lord Captain gets proclaimed missing.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good at all.” Diana chuckles and brushes hair behind the ear with her free hand.

They pause for a brief moment, fixing their clothes as much as possible, then Diana allows Heinrix to lead her to the door, at which they both have to stop when the rune, just like before, refuses to work immediately. But after they exchange just one glance, the steel begins to move and they exit.

“When we get back I will-“ Heinrix leans to Diana with a smile, to speak quietly, but they both stop because they immediately run into Abelard. Who, on his part, freezes in spot, eyes wide.

While Diana is not exactly naked, her shirt is still open too far for decency, her hair is a mess and even has cobwebs in it that Heinrix noticed but decided to leave there until they take a shower, which they both desperately need. Not only that, Diana’s skirt is all crumpled and bears wet spots, very similar looking to the ones on Heinrix’s dark blue uniform. And on Heinrix’s end, his still sweaty face and a complete nest for hair that Diana made sure to leave him with, tells a story neither of them could deny even if they wished for it.

“Lord Captain. Master van Calox.” Abelard speaks and Heinrix’s expression first forms into a serious one, then he gives it up and smiles, unable to suppress the happiness behind it.

“Master Werserian.” He says almost too cheerfully and Diana looks at Heinrix, a chuckle escaping her too as she gazes at him with disbelief at his open joy. “Good to run into you here. Looking for something?”

Diana wants to signal him to stop being so damn obvious, but before she can think of a discreet way to do it, Abelard clears his throat and draws Diana’s attention to himself.

“Lord Captain, I was told about Guard Magren and what transpired between him and the Master of Whispers. And after hearing that you have been seen approaching the area of said altercation, I decided to come and see for myself.” Abelard’s eyes are telling nothing of the thoughts in his head and Diana opens her mouth to speak, but suddenly realizes that Heinrix’s seed, that he so dedicatedly tried to finger into her, begins seeping out at last, freezing her in spot not unlike Abelard had upon seeing them.

Heinrix looks at her, surprised she hasn’t said anything yet and seeing Diana’s expression he immediately realizes what’s going on. It prompts him to undo his jacket and wrap it around Diana immediately, which trails down to her shins. Right after that, before either her or Abelard can say anything, Heinrix scoops Diana into his arms, making the woman smile and hide her increasingly reddening face against the side of his neck.

“If you will excuse us, Abelard, there are more pressing matters for the Lord Captain to see to at the moment.” There’s obvious pride in Heinrix’s voice and Diana tries to nudge him, now almost entirely hidden in Heinrix’s coat but the chuckle still escapes her and Abelard frowns at that, then deflates, sighing heavily.

“Very well.” He capitulates and Heinrix begins walking in steady steps, pressing a kiss to Diana’s forehead that is still pebbled with sweat.

“And don’t disturb us, Abelard.” Heinrix says loudly and without stopping. Diana’s eyes meet his, to which he only responds with a wide smile.

“You shouldn’t.” She whispers but Heinrix only chuckles and keeps carrying her, feeling her fingers cling to the shirt tautly stretching over his chest.

Abelard does hear the giggles and the whispers but not exact words. And instead of trying to comprehend them, the seneschal remains where he is, eyes closed and breaths calm. At last, when Heinrix’s footsteps fade away, the officer opens his eyes and looks at the floor, to his surprise seeing… H

e’s not sure at first but then he knows, recognizing the wet, pale droplets. He’s a man and a father, after all. And he sighs, deeply and with resignation, glancing briefly to the utility closet that he wanted to inspect but now knows better than that.

With a tired shake of his head, Abelard turns around and goes in the same direction Diana and Heinrix departed, his footsteps unhurried. “Like juvies.” He murmurs to himself even though at the heart of hearts, he is just happy that Diana is happy.

And she looked anything but. In fact, he rarely sees her be this radiant. So he forgives Heinrix for making a mess out of the Lord Captain. Youth, Abelard reminisces, youth is beautiful in its purest form – a love between two souls.

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