Work Text:
Sanguinius was drunk. It was a… fascinating experience. Russ had made sure all three of them - himself, Sanguinius, and Perturabo - had consumed enough alcohol to “experience what they had been missing”.
Sanguinius was pretty sure it was an excuse to try and undercut both his and Perturabo’s self-control, but whatever. They’d both been cajoled into it, and now Sanguinius was trying to find his way back to his room, wherever that was on this unfamiliar world in this unfamiliar building.
“Meet up, spend time together, bond,” Sanguinius muttered to himself as he staggered down another hall he didn’t recognise, “Sure, Horus, it’s so easy to get along with our brothers, especially these two together. Oh yes, we all got drunk off our asses and got lost in a fucking warren of a building, we got so close to each other!”
Sanguinius leaned on a wall and rubbed a hand down his face. He had to look like a mess. The sooner he could sleep this off, the better.
He pushed himself upright again, and trudged onward. Some of these doors looked familiar, actually. He might be near his room!
Sanguinius stopped in front of a door that looked more familiar than the others and pushed on it. Locked. Or stuck?
With a low growl, Sanguinius slammed into the door, bursting it open.
It was not his room. It was not at all his room.
Perturabo and one of his sons - Ferrox or something - stared wide-eyed at Sanguinius. They were-
Sanguinius felt his cheeks flare bright red. The Astartes was bent gently over the bed, hands gripping the thick sheets tightly, likely because they had Perturabo’s cock one-third of the way up their ass. They both looked horrified.
“SORRY!” Sanguinius shrieked, slamming the door shut again and sprinting off down the hall.
He turned down another hall and rushed into the nearest room he saw; this one, thankfully, was empty save for a bed that might have fit Sanguinius if curled into the smallest ball he could. It would do.
Sangiunius sat down heavily on the bed and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe he’d just walked in on that. Why hadn’t-
The door had definitely been locked. They hadn’t just been doing THAT out in the open, the door just wasn’t rated for drunken, pissed-off Primarchs.
Sanguinius groaned. How was he supposed to look Perturabo in the eye ever again? He’d walked in on him! With one of his sons no less!
Throne, but the Astartes had looked so small beneath Perturabo, was that sort of penetration even feasible or were they only trying it because Perturabo was drunk-
Perturabo was drunk.
Sanguinius snapped his head up, some bizarre defensive instinct making his wings bristle, before reality caught up with him.
If anyone was in any sort of danger there, it was not his brother. Being drunk did not negate a Primarch’s strength - obviously - and that was not the position of someone unwillingly coerced into sex. Sanguinius needed to be worried about the Astartes - Ferrix? - getting hurt by Perturabo’s lowered self-control!
He’d looked so small, hips held so carefully in Perturabo’s giant, calloused hands…
He also hadn’t looked distressed until Sanguinius had burst in. It was only a few microseconds of expression, but…
Okay. No. Sanguinius shook his head. He needed to… reach out to him - FORRIX, that was his name - at some point and make sure that their… whatever they were doing was in fact consensual, and offer the man a way out if it wasn’t.
His wings were bristling again. He was upset at himself for thinking that Perturabo would do that to anyone, but Perturabo was drunk, he might not have realized there was no way anyone would feel safe saying no to him!
Again, though, Forrix hadn’t looked like he was in need of saving. He’d looked like he’d just been walked in on. How was Sanguinius supposed to bring this up without making them both drop the topic to avoid embarrassment?
Thinking back on it, Sanguinius was pretty sure Forrix had been arching into Perturabo, not away from him, and from what Sanguinius saw Perturabo had not skimped on the lube, his whole erection had almost been dripping with it-
Why was he thinking about that?
Sanguinius slapped his cheeks a few times. He needed to focus! This was no time to be thinking about- about anything but making sure they both were okay!
Throne, the size difference between them alone was-
Hmm.
Sanguinius smacked his face with a little more force. None of that. He was not thinking like that.
Tomorrow. He couldn’t do anything tonight. Tomorrow he would approach Forrix and check in on him. Offer protection if needed. Offer a way out. Make sure the Astartes hadn’t somehow pressured Perturabo into sex.
It couldn’t be a regular thing, the preparation needed to fit-
Sanguinius groaned and fell backwards onto the bed, part of his head hanging off the other end while his wings flared awkwardly to his sides, half-crushed and twitching.
He was not going to be able to do anything tonight. He was going to sleep off his blurred, uncontrolled thoughts, and tomorrow he was going to check in on things. He wondered if Forrix was drunk or not, then ran his hands down his face.
Sleep. Regain sobriety. Then problem-solve.
Sanguinius got up, snatched the pillows and sheets from the bed, and made himself a tiny nest on the floor, covering himself with his rumpled wings. He wasn’t going to fit on the bed and he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by trying.
Sanguinius woke with a light headache made worse by Russ kicking open his apparently unlocked door and placing a platter of fresh, rich-smelling food next to his head. Sanguinius glared at him, and Russ just grinned brightly in return before turning around and leaving, shutting the door behind him.
The smell of the gently steaming meat, eggs, and whatever Russ and his ridiculous planet had decided could be called “bread” mostly served to make Sanguinius’ stomach turn over, so he sat up and shook out his wings instead.
Had he really gone to sleep with them in that state? Why-
Sanguingius paused, one hand buried in his feathers. He’d meant to do something. He’d-
Forrix. Perturabo. He’d meant to talk to them about-
Oh.
Sanguinius pulled his hand away from his wing and sat in his sad pile of pillows and sheets for a moment, staring at nothing. He’d barged in on his drunk brother having sex with one of his subordinates.
Sanguinius returned to his grooming. It was fine. He was going to look presentable, and he was going to check in on them. Mistakes happened. Neither had looked upset. There was no need-
Someone knocked on the door. Sanguinius glanced at his wings, decided that his image probably couldn’t suffer more damage than had already been done to it with his drunken wanderings around Russ’ home, and answered it.
Forrix stood there, hands behind his back, expression set in neutrality.
“Forrix, yes?” Sanguinius asked, feeling a loose feather make his left wing twitch.
Forrix nodded.
“Yes, Lord. I wanted to talk to you about last night. Perturabo agreed we ought to explain ourselves separately.”
Sanguinius stared at him for a moment, then nodded and stepped aside, gesturing the Iron Warrior inside.
Forrix entered the room, taking an almost imperceptible pause at the sight of Sanguinius’ sleeping pile. Sanguinius felt a faint flush in his throat and ignored it.
“I apologize, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal-”
“It doesn’t matter. Forrix, are you okay?” Sanguinius cut him off.
Forrix neatly sat down on the floor, and Sanguinius carefully did the same, trying not to loom over the Astartes.
“I am fine. Neither me nor Perturabo drank as much as you; we were sitting further from Russ,” Forrix said, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
Sanguinius remembered that. He’d chalked it up to the normal Iron Legion insociability but perhaps there had been more to it.
“That’s good to hear, but I was referring to what I walked in on. If you both were drunk- I mean to say, if you both were impaired then your judgements were as well. Were you hurt?” Sanguinius asked.
Forrix shook his head.
“Perturabo and I were well-aware of the possible danger, and we both were careful. I can understand your concern but it is unnecessary.”
There was just the barest hint of an icy undertone there. Sanguinius resettled his wings again.
“I believe you,” he soothed, “I simply wanted to make sure.”
“Of course, my Lord, I understand.”
Sanguinius was starting to suspect Forrix was more like Perturabo then he’d initially thought.
“I have to ask these things, Forrix. My brother is in a position of power over you; I don’t believe he would force himself on you, but I worry about the possible effects this might have on your ability to refuse,” Sanguinius explained, seeing Forrix’s shoulders set just a little lower.
“Perturabo was concerned about that too. He made sure I knew that I could refuse him at any time, for any reason, and it would not affect my standing, rank, or position on the Trident. I also cannot expect extra influence over Perturabo or my brothers; this relationship does not grant me any sort of political power,” Forrix said, voice even and controlled.
Relationship. Not just a one night stand. That was more complicated, but it seemed like Perturabo had actually talked to Forrix about it already.
“And you’re comfortable invoking your right to refuse?” Sanguinius asked.
Forrix nodded.
“I suspect it will not be an issue. Perturabo is… generally more disinclined to physical intimacy than I am.”
Sanguinius frowned a little.
“So last night was special?”
Forrix glanced away from Sanguinius for a moment.
“There may have been a discussion about how well a physical relationship would work between us that escalated into a practical demonstration,” he said delicately.
Sanguinius blinked at Forrix, then quickly swallowed the laugh that threatened to burst from him. Of course. Of course that’s why they were having sex.
“Right, right. I suppose you both know what you’re doing. I will not interfere, save to offer you a way out of the Fourth Legion if things… go poorly. Contact me, or my legion, if you need to get away.” Sanguinius waited until Forrix nodded to continue. “And I suppose I ought to give the customary threats about not hurting my brother, but I suspect I don’t have to worry about you.”
Forrix looked a little confused, and Sanguinius smiled.
“You sound like you’ll take care of him the same way you already have been, just with a few more benefits.”
Forrix didn’t blush, but Sanguinius could hear his hearts speed up slightly.
“Thank you, Lord Sanguinius. I’ll leave you to your meal,” Forrix said, bowing over himself before getting to his feet and leaving just slow enough that Sanguinius couldn’t call it fleeing.
Sanguinius sighed and looked at his wings again, disgruntled.
“At least one good thing might have come out of this,” he muttered, reaching up to start preening himself again.