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How long has he been sleeping with her? Might as well be millions of centuries at this point. That's how it felt, anyways. It disgusted him, how a man like himself, a commander, strategist, war-torn soldier of high regards, becomes nothing more than a simple bed chamber pet for her own sick pleasure by nightfall.
"Roathe..?" Her voice called out, noticing that her companion had left the bed. "Where are you going?"
By the void, he just wanted some alone time. "Nowhere, Nitokh. Simply stretching my legs." He replied, glancing back over at her with a forced grin.
In the dim light of the room, he could see the Executor's bare form sprawled out amongst the silken sheets, obviously waiting and expecting the immediate return of her dear pet. This arrangement was torture for Roathe. But it was the only thing keeping him alive. The only thing he had to live for.
"Is your body aching?" She hummed, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. "Perhaps it is time for a new one?"
"No! No. No I am quite fine. Simply stretching." He repeated.
"Good. I quite like that one." Nitokh let herself fall back down onto the bed, eyes boring into him.
Roathe reluctantly climbed back into the bed with her. The silk beneath him felt cool against his skin, offering some comfort for the long night to come. He lay on his side, staring at Nitokh. Not with admiration, but with a deep, hidden hatred and masked disgust. He played through all the ways he could kill her within his mind, how he wanted to peel away that blue skin of hers, to make her suffer and bleed, to make her pay for the shit she has done.
She reached out to cup his face with her hand, nails digging into his cheek just slightly, to ensure that he understood who exactly was in control.
"My pet..." She cooed, her voice holding an almost musical tone. "Please me."
"Of course... What kind of pet would I be if I didn't." Roathe muttered under his breath as he shifted his position, moving to straddle her.
"A dead one." Nitokh let her nails drag across his cheek as she replied, hand moving to grip at his shoulder once Roathe settled above her.
Right.
There's that constant reminder of the knife that hangs above his head by a thread, able to be cut without hesitation or remorse.
He does remember a time where that thread was almost cut. Where Nitokh almost decided to kill him.
It was after a series of dreadful events that took hold out on the battlefield, which resulted in him claiming another's body as his own. He didn't think much of it at the time. Unfortunate, yes, that one of his own men sacrificed themselves so he could live, but such is life.
When he returned to Nitokh's bedchamber, she didn't recognize him at all at first. Her stare was like daggers, piercing into his soul as she slowly figured it out.
"Roathe?" She asked, obviously hesitant in case this was some twisted trick. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Nitokh. It is I. Unfortunately."
Her face scrunched up in obvious disgust as her eyes scanned over his new form, practically undressing him with that critical, judgemental stare.
Roathe stiffened slightly. "Modifications can, and will be made, as soon as possible. Trust me."
"You better. That body does not suit you." She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Can you even please me still with... That?"
He swallowed hard, pushing down his anger. "My skills in bed remains the same, no matter who's skin I wear."
"Mm... True. It is one of the reasons I've let you live for so long. Come, pet. Give that new form of yours a test run so I can tell you what to modify."
Of course. That's all he was good for, wasn't he? Just some sex toy to order around like a loyal kubrow.
But... Such was life within the empire. If an Executor wanted you, your choice was to either obey, or be executed.
That felt like so long ago.
Things were different now. Much different in this current life of his.
Different, yet similar...
How long has it been, since he's been with the enigmatic Drifter? Probably almost a month now. Perhaps less. All he knew was that lately, he found himself sharing his bed chamber within La Cathédrale with said little thing.
Tonight was a night like no other. Roathe lay on his back, feeling just slightly uncomfortable. His techrotted arm had fallen asleep due to the weight of the Drifter that lay on top of it as they cuddled up to the Devil's side. It still boggles his mind, what they see in a loathsome devil such as himself.
Having another in his bed felt right, yet wrong. It felt... Different, than when he was with Nitokh. He wasn't obeying their every word, their every command.
Felt weird.
Perhaps he was the one unknowingly demanding the Drifter around, making them believe they have no choice but to obey the Devil of Tau. While he normally did not mind the thought of that, this... Was different. He didn't want to unknowingly become the oppressor.
He didn't want to be like Nitokh.
Roathe shifted his head to glance down at the Drifter glued to his side, their hand resting on his bare chest. They seemed to be in a deep sleep.
Perfect time to slip away.
He slowly began to move, carefully pulling his arm free, ensuring that his claws did not snag on the fabric of the Drifter's sleepwear. Once free, he shook his arm with a quiet hiss, shaking away the pins and needles that spread across it.
It was only when he stood up from the bed that the Drifter stirred, realizing that they lost their living heat source.
"Roathe...?" They grumbled, half asleep as they sat up slightly, rubbing at their eyes. "Where are you going? You okay?"
"Nowhere, my dear. Just stretching my legs." He replied automatically, glancing over his shoulder at them. His bladed tail flicked at the air in annoyance at their question.
The Drifter remained silent, squinting their glowing eyes at him in the darkness. It wasn't a judgemental glare or look of authority, it was just a tired, sleepy stare of a brain trying to process words being said.
"Go back to sleep, my pet..." Roathe mumbled while running his clawed hand down his face.
Pet.
Why did he call them that. Is he really acting like... Like her?
He heard a tired mumble as the Drifter casually flopped back down, eyes closed and probably out like a light once more.
They didn't press the question or demand him to return. Or ask anything else or... Anything. Just a simple quiet acceptance of his answer and that was that.
...
No.
Roathe couldn't stand it anymore. He needed to know. He didn't care.
"Drifter, wake up." Roathe demanded, moving to stand over the sleeping Drifter. "I need you awake for this."
"Mmm..."
"Drifter. Wake up." He spoke a bit louder, flicking them right on the forehead.
That woke them up with a start. "What. I'm up. What is it?" They sat up on the bed, rubbing their forehead.
"You are aware there are other places to sleep, right? You do not need to be by my side like a loyal kubrow." Roathe crossed his arms as he stepped back and raised a brow, even though such facial expressions most likely couldn't be seen in the darkness. "I am not forcing this upon you, am I?"
The Drifter just stared at him with a look of absolute confusion. Their tired brain was obviously still struggling to catch up.
He stood there, tail flicking about like he was an agitated kavat, impatiently awaiting a response. "You CAN sleep elsewhere. What, too scared to defy an Orokin, are you? I don't blame you." He sneered.
"Roathe... That's not it and you know it."
"Do I?"
"If I didn't want to be here, I would simply leave and walk away." They shifted themselves so they sat on the edge of the bed. "You are not demanding anything of me."
"So... You do want this?" He idly gestured to the room around them. "Whatever the hell... THIS is... We have?"
"Yes."
Silence filled the air as Roathe quietly stared into the glowing eyes of the Drifter. He was so used to one-sided relationships, or simple flings or dealing with Executors. This kind of relationship with the Drifter was different than what he was used to, and they knew it as well.
"Did you want me to leave...?" The Drifter tilted their head.
"No. Unless you... Want me to..." Roathe's voice fell silent as he turned away. "I can sleep elsewhere while you keep the bed."
"..... If that is what you want..."
It wasn't though. He clenched his teeth in anger as his tail flicked about once more. He didn't know what to do.
The Drifter continued. "But something tells me that isn't what you want."
"I don't know what I want!" He suddenly snapped, whipping around to face the Drifter. "I don't know what I want, because I don't... I don't... I will NOT be like her!"
The Drifter stood up and reached out, gently grabbing at his snarling face. They moved right into his personal space, pressing their foreheads together. "You will not become like Nitokh. You show more compassion and care about this kind of thing than she ever did."
Roathe was stunned, all his anger slipping away as he exhaled. He closed his eyes and gently gripped at the other's arms.
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, simply existing in that moment, breathing each other's air.
This was a rare, vulnerable moment for the Protoframe. A side of him that only the Drifter has the privilege of seeing. "I don't want to force this on you."
"You aren't. I want this as much as you do."
Roathe allowed himself to smile just ever so slightly. "No one loves like we Orokin do, when we put our hearts into it. I just want you to be ready. I want you to be on the same page as me when I give you the full extent of my love."
The Drifter pulled away slightly and dropped their hands, brow raised as they studied the Orokin's face. "Is that your way of asking for sex?"
That little smile of his quickly turned into a smirk as he stared at them with half-lidded eyes. "Oh, it can most certainly lead to such activities... If you want."
"You devil."
That earned an amused growl from Roathe. He leaned right in, tail loosely wrapping around their leg as he nipped at their ear. "Indeed I am..."
The Drifter suddenly stepped back, peeling themself away. "Not tonight, okay?" There was no discomfort or uncertainty in their voice. In fact, it was almost as if they were teasing him.
"Forcing a starving beast to wait for their feast is a dangerous game, Drifter..."
"I'm sure you'll survive." They chuckled as they climbed back into the bed with an audible yawn. "I'm beyond tired. I know I wouldn't survive if we did tonight."
Roathe let himself relax, watching his companion tuck themselves away back under the sheets. They wanted this as much as he did. The relationship or whatever the hell they had was mutual.
He crawled in right behind the Drifter, draping an arm over their midsection and pulling them back against his chest so he could spoon them.
This felt right. It felt good.
This was how it was supposed to be.
A smirk spread across the Devil's face. Good things come to those who wait, and he would most definitely wait.