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Heinrix van Calox is not a man who is easily surprised, but the Lord Captain has a talent for leaving him speechless. He didn’t expect it of her. When they first met, she was a quiet and meek thing, entirely without the commanding presence of other Rogue Traders. Unremarkable. Until she stood against him for the fate of Rykad Minoris, proclaimed her undying love in Commorragh, and put a bullet through Calcazar’s head.
He thought the surprises were over. That his sweet, gentle lover was just that. But he’s proven wrong again.
“I’ve always hated this thing.” Aylin’s voice comes through the vox bead in his ear. It was clipped to his coat, the one she had lovingly embroidered for him, “I thought it made you look like a dog.”
“Hated what?” His brows furrow. The Master of Whispers steps into the lift that would take him to deck 137. The lower deck clans there were refusing to work after the Lord Captain turned down their request for a full day off every week. Aylin refused. It would take an enormous toll on the operations of the ship. That, and something about how she didn’t take days off so who on this forsaken voidship gets to sleep while she clocks in?
“Your rosette.”
He closes his eyes, cursing in his mind. Heinrix kept it in his vanity. He wasn’t an interrogator anymore, true, but it was still worth years of his life and he was hesitant to part with it.
“Aylin,” He starts, “It’s not what it looks like. You know I am entirely devoted to you.”
“Then why is it here, Master van Calox?” Not her ‘sweet prince’? Not even a beloved? Shit, she must be furious.
“I didn’t know what to do with it.” He mutters, walking into the main corridor of deck 137. The metal floor clinks under his heavy boots, announcing his arrival. His walk is followed by a hundred eyes staring out from behind pipes and exhaust smoke.
“I do.” Her voice is dark and low, creeping out of the vox bead and into his ear, “I’m sitting at my desk, in my office. I’m taking your rosette on a slow, gentle trail down my left cheek. I’m turning my head and I-” A soft exhale on his vox, “Kiss it. Softly. Like it’s your cock.”
Heat rises from his stomach to his face.
“Aylin, stop.” This was not the time for anything of this nature. He was on his way to meet with the enforcers of deck 137. The last thing he needed was to be staring at them blankly because the Lord Captain is determined to distract him from work she made him do.
“I think I’ll lick it. The way that makes you shudder. Base to top right? Press my tongue down on the tip, just like you like it?” He hears her wet tongue slide along the cold metal, agonizingly slow.
He breathes sharply. Swallows. Hard.
“Master van Calox! Over here!” The enforcer captain standing at the end of the hall waves at him.
Heinrix nods to the young man, walking towards him
“You want to play games? Alright, we can play games.” He replies in a steady voice even as his flesh shook with heat inside of him, “I’m no stranger to people determined to be difficult.”
“Using your interrogator voice on me? How cruel.” She tuts, “I can be crueler. You know how you always wished I could take all of you in my mouth? Don’t frown, I know you do. Your heart is my heart remember? Well, I’ve been practicing.”
He has to hold onto the door frame for a second when she says-
“On your rosette, to be precise.” She breathes in slowly and he can see her bare chest rising and falling as she lay under him, “- and…”
Heinrix hears an obscene wet sound from the vox bead. In his mind's eye, he sees her pulling the cold metal into her warm mouth, her lips tight around it, as she bobbed her head. She must be holding onto one end of the ‘I’, her fingers gripping, ministrating like it’s his fucking balls.
He’s starting to hate that rosette too.
“There will be repercussions for this out of line behavior when I return.” His tense voice reads as furious to the enforcers who all scatter out of his way as he takes his seat in the conference room. Heinrix pulls himself under the table, hiding his growing erection.
She doesn’t answer. There’s only the wet, gasping sound of her mouth and her breath on his rosette. Once a holy symbol of his service to the Golden Throne, it was now-
His face turns red.
“Thank you for honoring us with your time, Master van Calox. To begin, there are just a few matters regarding the maintenance of-” The man talks but Heinrix doesn’t hear him, despite his best efforts to focus.
With a loud pop , she comes back to tell him, “You’re there aren’t you? I hear them.” She purrs and he can see the self-satisfied smile on her face, “I want you to touch yourself.”
“Out of the question.” Heinrix shifts in his seat, his cock now hard and aching against the zipper of his trousers. God Emperor preserve him, why did she choose such a bad time? Was it not enough that she liked to toy with the chance of being walked in on whenever they were alone on the lifts?
The captain pauses, raising an eyebrow at him, “Sir?”
“Not you. Continue.” He rests one elbow on the table, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as if he were deep in troubled thought.
The man just nods awkwardly before returning to his report and charts.
“Do it. Or I won’t let you have me all week.”
Of course he does it. Of course he fucking does it. Heinrix van Calox, the once proper and serious interrogator of the Ordo Xenos, takes out his fucking cock in the middle of a meeting and starts stroking himself. Slow at first. Then a little faster as he thinks of her sucking on his rosette and putting it into her throat.
He should be fine as long as no one drops anything and has to look under the table.
“I’m on it.”
“Good. Ah, thank you, my sweet prince.” She sighs, relieved. He imagines her leaning back on her chair…naked? Was she naked? God Emperor preserve him. He is thinking of ways to ask the Lord Captain if she is naked in front of her enforcers.
“Surely the mystery of the matter can be uncloaked?” He draws his fingers tighter around himself, stroking as imperceptibly as he could beneath the table.
“Yes, sir. We’ve already started questioning the-” The captain answers. Seems his question had lined up nicely with whatever he was talking about.
Aylin laughs. It’s a bright tinkling sound that he wants to replace with her moaning.
“Oh, beloved. I am.” The chain of his rosette clinks in the background, “I’m taking your rosette and I’m tracing it down the side of my neck – I still have a bruise there. The one you made me keep from last night. Your rosette goes down… down … down … between my breasts. Over my belly. I keep it there. Wouldn’t you like to be kissing me there now?”
“Affirmative.”
“Good. Perfect. You’ll get to do so later, when you’re done working, if you’re a good boy.” She kisses him through the vox. It’s a sweet blown kiss sound kind of thing, “Tell me you want me. Tell me, please.”
His eyes flicker between the table and the captain and the chart projected to the wall in front of him. A record of lost productivity hours. Some numbers on how quickly they could recover if they were to take an extreme route of purging the deck, assuming the downtime would only be three days.
“I want you-” He sucks in a breath, “-to get to the bottom of this.”
“But sir, the workers are resistant and-”
“It’s only a few. In my experience, what appears to be a united whole of resisting enemies is only a few. Cut off the head and you can proceed as usual.” He replies as if he were talking to the captain the entire time and not rutting into his hand.
“Cut off the head? Ah, is that what you want?” She knows damn well he wasn’t talking to her, but does that matter? Of course not. Aylin was determined to be petulant and infuriating, “I’m pressing your rosette to my cunt. My tight… wet… cunt. Your rosette is going to have me because you can’t. It’s a good thing you two are such good friends, Master van Calox.”
Now he understands why she was so jealous of that rosette. Hand tight around his cock, his only thoughts are of melting that rosette down into a ball gag so she can never vox him like this again.
There’s a shuffle. The office chair moving away from the desk. A paperweight, an ink well, and a thousand documents are evicted from their mahogany home.
“I’m on the table, Master van Calox.” She tells him, “The table is so cold, but I’m so warm. So wet, warm, and wanting. Throne help me, I want you so much right now.”
“The Throne won’t be helping you.” His fingers stick to his palms, “Especially when I’m done with you. Mark my words.”
The captain glances at him wearily, afraid for whoever he is talking to.
“Really? It’s mighty helpful right now, so helpful that I’m having such an easy time sliding your rosette into my pussy. It’s not as nice as you, but it will do-” She moans. Long and drawn out, giving him time to imagine her back arched away from her table and her toes curling.
He’s frantically trying to finish himself under the table before the meeting ends. It should be soon. The slides say 38 of 50.
“H-Heinrix!” Her heel slams into the top of the table. She’s done it enough that he knows it by sound alone. The way she puts one foot down and angles herself closer towards him, trying to meet him halfway, “Y-yes… there! Ah, fuck.”
He presses his eyes shut and the captain, fortunately, has good sense to simply keep going. Perhaps the man thought he was having a headache or that he was too displeased by an incompetence they themselves couldn’t perceive.
All while the Master of Whispers was only truly listening to the Lord Captain fuck herself on an Inquisition rosette over the vox line.
His release comes before he expects it. Something about this cursed vox call has whetted his appetite for a new form of adventure that he’s both delighting and dreading over. She cums just a few heartbeats later. He can feel it. Sense it. He knows it because his heart is her heart.
When the meeting ends, Heinrix is practically tripping over himself to get to her quarters.
The shortest route was the one from deck 137 to the Upper Decks. Near the officers’ lounge was a lift entrance to her quarters. His brisk, furious stride is enough to keep anyone from even straying a foot into his path.
When Heinrix van Calox arrives at the Lord Captain’s quarters, she’s dressed and quiet and peaceful and reading at their Regicide table.
He strides over and grabs her arm, dragging her to her desk. Her book falls on the Regicide table as she goes with him, knocking black and white pieces to the floor.
“Heinrix?” She sounds almost afraid. Almost. The sparkle in her eyes tells him she knows damn well what she’s done.
“On the table. Bend over.” He pulls his belt off, wrapping the top into one loop around his hand
“Heinrix, wait-” She tries to reach around her. Her neck? Her back? He was out of patience to wait and find out.
“You couldn’t be reasoned with earlier. I’m eager to return the favor, Lord Captain.” He pushes her down on the table and she, whatever she was thinking of now forgotten, just gasps sharply.
Aylin turns her head to look behind her and up at him. Her eyes burn with desire.
And so do his.
“You think you’re driven mad with envy by my rosette?” He grabs her jaw, turning her head to face out the window that opened to the stars, his nails digging into her cheeks. He pulls her skirts up over her waist and his cock out his pants, “I’m going to show you mad with envy, Lord Captain.”
When the Master of Whispers returns to the bridge, his mind still swimming with images of the Lord Captain and her skin covered in his cum and marred by the red bands left by his belt, the entire bridge is staring at him.
Vox Master Vigdis is the one who has the grace to step closer to him, lean into his ear, and kindly inform him that- “Master van Calox, the Lord Captain was connected to the bridge’s public line at the time of your… audience with her.”
Void. Take. Him.
Seneschal Werserian clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence, “As a patriarch of an established line, I commend you for your service. House von Valancius will not be in want of heirs for long.”
Heinrix storms off the bridge and back to the lift connected to the Lord Captain’s quarters.
He was not seen on the bridge for the rest of the week.