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madmeks · 2 days ago

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Return of the Ork

Pairings: Titus x Mira

Author's note: 18+ Takes place about a month after Reunion. Had a lot of fun writing the orks in this fic. Thanks to @74rn for the name 'Rukkblasta' for the Weirdboy

Warnings: Sexual content. Voyeurism. Unprotected sex. Oral sex.

Description: Mira helps Titus work out some frustration as an old foe plots a return.

Tagging: @beckyninja @yanagikou @flunkyofmalcador @finchly-tintinnabulation @kit-williams @justanothermemestrider @theemeraldwings @wormiusdebilius @74rn @severalpossiblemusiks @vspin @blukitty40k @nereidof40k @katesfoxhole If anyone would like to be tagged in future fics, please let me know :)

If you're interested in reading any of my earlier fics, check out my pinned post.

“Ough...haaa. Boss...dis feels weird.”

A hulking figure straightened from the screens, pistons in the joints of their blue mega-armor squealing for want of enough squig oil. They turned to look at the ork strapped to the chair, who was twitching as the cables plugged into their skull hummed and sparked intermittently.

“Yea. You’s a Weirdboy, ya git. Should be usedta it by now.”

“Oh, right.”

The big mek known as Da Scraplord nodded in satisfaction as they turned back to the arcane contraption before them. The console was a mishmash of rusted panels, dials, and levers. The back of the console was wired to a rumbling generator glowing with green light. The generator in turn had cables plugged into the nearby Weirdboy. Occasionally they’d direct one of their scurrying grot assistants to manipulate a control in response to some readout or other on the screen.

A clang echoed from the entrance to Da Scraplord’s chamber as a new figured hauled itself into the room.

“It ready yet?” the figure croaked.

The voice was low and guttural, with a hint of mechanical feedback where artificial parts had replaced ruined portions of its owners voicebox. The figure stepped into the light emanating from the generator. Most of its body was artificial. A squat, thick articulated approximation of a spinal column balanced on two thick legs that stomped into the chamber. One arm ended in a three-pronged power klaw, and heavy armor plating curved up and around the being’s head. A metal skullcap with two glowing mechanical eyes covered most of the head, the fanged lower jaw the only visible organic portion of the being.

Da Scraplord nodded at the hulking Cybork. “Just about. I gots Rukkblasta wired up and all da gubbinz kally-brated. Just buildin’ up to full power now. You tell Rukkblasta what yer lookin’ for and we’ll find it sure as squigshit.”

The Cybork growled at the colorful metaphor as they stomped over to the Weirdboy. They leaned down into the smaller ork’s face, curls of dirty vapor wheezing out of the miniature exhaust pipe stuck to the side of their skull.

“Right...listen up. Yer looking for a beakie. He was da one bossin’ up all dem Ultramehreens on Graia before da Spiky boyz showed up…”

The Cybork kept feeding bits of information to Rukkblasta as Da Scraplord nursed device up to full power. The green glow intensified as the generator began to shake and rock on its mounts. Finally, the mek nodded in satisfaction.

“We’re ready. You got it, Rukkblasta?”

The Weirdboy nodded shakily as the excess energy bled into their head from the generator. “Yea, I reckon so, Boss.”

“Right. Den ‘ere we go,” said the mek, grabbing a large lever in their power klaw and hauling it downward. Immediately, Rukkblasta tensed up in their chair as the full power of the mek’s device funneled into their skull. The hum in the chamber changed to a high whine that built and built and built. Around the Weirdboy’s chair, circuit boxes shorted out and ruptured in showers of sparks.

Abruptly, the whine fell in pitch and changed to a steady, even hum. Rukkblasta slumped back in their chair, eyes staring off into space.

“I think I gots it,” they said, wisps of smoke escaping from their mouth as they spoke. “Try and have a look.”

Da Scraplord, their attendant grots, and the massive Cybork all huddled around the viewscreen built into the console as an imaged flickered to life.

“Dat your beakie?” Da Scraplord asked.

Two figures were on the screen, laying on a bed in a darkened room.

“Dat ain’t no beakie,” said one of the grots. “Where’s his armor at?”

The Cybork cuffed the grot about the ear just as another spoke up.

“Lookit, Boss! ‘E must got bit by a Stinger Squig or sumfing. See e’s all swoled up between his legs there?”

Da Scraplord frowned at the screen. “Nah nah nah, ya gits. See dat uvver humie getting on top of him? I fink dis is some’o dat ‘Seggs-shool Intercourse’ dat humies do.”

“Does it help wiv squig bites, Boss?” the grot asked, earning their own smack on the ear.

“Dat’s him,” the Cybork growled, interrupting the exchange. The others turned to them as they stared at the screen. “Dat’s my Space Mehreen.”

***

Mira threw her head back with a moan, her pussy tightly wrapped around Titus’ thrusting shaft as she came. They were on the bed in her quarters in the governor’s complex of Andrin Prime, his armor stacked by the door and her uniform strewn on the floor in a trail that led to the bed. He was caressing her breasts as she bounced on top of him, grunting in time with her moans as he continued to drive up into her.

She kept riding him as she came down from her orgasm, hands braced on his chest for balance, feeling the way her fingers sank into the flesh of his pecs before meeting hard muscle beneath. She stared down at him through glazed eyes as his hips pumped against hers, her tits bouncing in his hands.

The situation on Andrin Prime had been frustrating for them both. The Votann troops kept to the rocky highlands where the Imperial Guard tanks had difficulty maneuvering, and launched attack after attack against the infantry sent ahead of the armour. Knowing they were outmatched by the Ultramarines supporting the Guard, they kept themselves spread out in loose groups, and their command hidden somewhere deep withing the twisting mines they’d dug out of the mountains. Without a single point to focus on, the Astartes found themselves wasted in small actions where they achieved tactical victories without gaining any strategic advantage.

All the Ultramarines had been frustrated, but Titus especially had been having a hard time of it. Unable to loose his aggression in a stand-up fight with the abhumans, he often prowled the command complex, snapping at space marine and baseline soldiers alike.

Mira knew Titus was off his chem-geld drugs, and sensed he needed release in one form or another. Unable to offer him a suitably strategically valuable target for his squad to take on, she’d dragged him back to her quarters the moment she was off duty to offer a different form of relief.

She felt his muscles stiffen up beneath her fingers, his hands on her breasts tightening, and through her pleasure knew he was about to unload inside her.

She lifted off him, mewling at the sudden emptiness inside her as she slide down his body to grab his cock in her hand. She lowered her mouth onto his cock, his body jerking as she closed her lips around the head.

She had made it just in time. She’d barely gotten her mouth on him before he moaned, his body going rigid. He reached down to tangle his fingers in her hair as his cock throbbed between her lips. He jerked hard in her mouth, his seed spurting freely from the head of his cock to pool on her tongue. She kept sucking until she couldn’t hold any more of it, and then lifted her head to pump him with her hand.

His cum continued to spurt in starts, running from his tip down onto her hand. It crackled as she stroked him, her hand gradually moving slower and slower until he relaxed and she let go of him.

“Seems like you needed that,” she teased, moving up on the bed to lay beside him, her hand resting on his chest as it rose and fell. A smear of his cum was left on his chest from her hand but he didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s so damned frustrating,” he muttered, after a time. “The Votann know ten of their warriors are no match for even one Ultramarine. Hiding away in their mines like cowards is the only reason this war isn’t over already. If we had even a single lead on where their commanders are cowering, my brothers and I would purge the whole lot in less than an hour.”

She let him go on, knowing he needed an outlet for his frustration and content to provide one.

“Do you...regret stopping your chem-geld?” she asked after a while, interrupting him. He twisted to look at her, reading the nervous expression on her face.

“No, Mira,” he said. “Being with you...this arrangement of ours...it gives me something I do not think I could find even if I stayed on the treatment. It’s a feeling I haven’t had before, even with my fellow Astartes.”

Mira slid her body down against his, letting her hand drift between his legs to lightly run her fingers along his length. She smiled as she heard his sudden sharp intake of breath.

“You like our arrangement?” she asked, beginning to stroke his shaft as it thickened to fill her hand.

“Mmm...yes,” he breathed as her hand ran up and down the length of his cock. “And it helps that I like you, Mira.”

She met his eyes and held his gaze as she slid back between his legs. She began to run her tongue up and down his shaft, her hand moving to cup his balls.

“I like you too,” she breathed, before taking him back into her mouth. Titus groaned as her head began bobbing up and down on him.

***

The image on the screen wavered and began to skip, and the steady tone of the generator fell in pitch as the view of the space marine and the other humie fell to static.

The Cybork shoved Da Scraplord with their metal fist.

“Get it back!”

The mek began to swipe at switches and buttons on the console before a stuttering yell drew the attention of everyone in the chamber, ork and grot alike.

“Eeeeeaaaaaargggghhhh!” Rukkblasta exclaimed, smoke pouring from their mouth and ears, every muscle taut. With a sudden groan the generator failed, the green glow fading. The Weirdboy slumped forward against the straps keeping them tied to the chair, the cables leading to their head sparking frequently. After a moment of stillness, Rukkblasta’s head burst apart, bits of their skull clattering against the deck. A few seconds later, bright blue flames licked up from the stump of their neck.

“Hmm,” mused Da Scraplord. “Dat might be an issue.”

The Cybork kicked out with a metal foot, sending one of Da Scraplord’s grots flying. They turned back to face the mek, mismatched mechanical eyes glowing.

“Did ya find out where dey are?” he growled.

The mek flicked a few switches on the console, staring curiously at the glyphs that flashed on the screen.

“Oh yea. Good fix. It’s one o’ dem planets da stuntiez been goin’ after.”

The Cybork nodded, then began stomping out of the chamber, feet clanging against the deck as they started to bellow orders at the boyz waiting eagerly in the corridor outside.

“We iz settin’ a new course! Get everybody ready for a good krumpin!” they hollered as they headed for the bridge. The mechanical portions of their jaw ground against the organic parts in a bizarre approximation of a smile as they barked a laugh.

“Warboss Grimskull is comin’ for ya, Space Mehreen.”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it please reblog and/or leave a comment :)

#warhammer 40k #titus x mira #demetrian titus #lieutenant mira #orks #40k smut #stupid sexy space marines #thirsthammer #my writing

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