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beckyninja · 18 days ago

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI

Description: After his encounter with the Artifact on Kadaku, an already rattled Titus witnesses his serf interact with another Ultramarine... and has a rather intense reaction.

More spicy time between Titus and his serf girl, folks! My version of Titus not a fan of sharing. However, if you're looking for a Titus who is up to sharing, check out @vyzz-undercover 's excellently written fic here.

This is a continuation of my Titus x FemReader story. The previous parts, and my other works, can be found on my Masterlist.

Back straight. Hands clasped. Eyes down. You have every right to be here.

Still, as the elevator screeched to a stop, you felt your heartbeat quicken. The hangar opened wide before you. Serfs and servitors scurried in all directions, machinery growled, engines roared. The acrid smell of fuel and hot metal assaulted your senses.

And so many Astartes.

In your time aboard this ship, you’d stayed mostly in the officers’ quarters, with occasional forays to the refectory, laundry, and baths. Even then, you kept to the serf access tunnels, like Demetrian suggested.

Strange, I live on a ship with hundreds of the Emperor’s Angels, and yet I’ve only ever seen a few up close.

You fought not to shrink back as a fully armored squad marched past only yards away. Why this sudden timidity? You’d never felt this way in the Death Watch fortress.

It’s because they’re Ultramarines.

The realization struck you. Demetrian never interacted with other Ultramarines in the Watch. And he’d all but ordered you to stay away from them. That’s why you felt so anxious, like you were disobeying him somehow. He had implied on multiple occasions he preferred you to remain near his quarters.

But you couldn’t, not now. Vesta had stopped by that morning.

“I thought you should know,” the medica panted, “your lord, Lieutenant Titus? I overheard the Apothecaries saying he collapsed on his last mission!”

You dropped the scrub brush you’d been using onto the floor with a clatter.

Vesta gripped your hands. “He’s alive, and appears unharmed. The Apothecaries spoke of diagnostics-”

“Where is he now?” You barely heard your own voice over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“Last I heard he’d gone to see the Lord Captain.”

You gnawed your lower lip. No chance you’d be allowed into the Command Center.

“But if he’s going to be deployed on Avarax with the rest of the Company, he’ll be heading back to the hangar before too much longer. You might be able to catch him there if you’re quick!”

You’d nearly run straight out the door, only for Vesta to ask if you had any idea where you were going. A few directions and a mad sprint later, and here you stood.

Would you ever not be intimidated by the sheer massiveness of… everything?

“Move, Throne damn you!”

Glancing over your shoulder, you gasped and barely ducked out of the way of a rolling ammunition cart. The serf pushing it glared at you from beneath his red hood, bloodshot eyes squinting.

He sneered at your blue robe. “Go back where you belong, girl. This is no place for a pampered pet.”

Heat rushed to your face. You stammered an apology and hurriedly pressed yourself against the nearest wall, trying to stay out of the way. You cringed at how you must look to the other serfs, with your clean clothing and unscarred skin. You’d been called “coddled” before.

A sick feeling of guilt settled into the pit of your stomach. But the thought of Demetrian in pain steeled your nerves.

You scanned the vast chamber. Even amidst the horde of blue armored giants, you knew you’d be able to recognize him. The way he stood. The way he walked. His aura of quiet command.

The sudden longing physically ached. “Where are you Titus?”

“Why do you seek the Lieutenant, woman?”

You spun toward the booming voice. Two Primaris Ultramarines loomed over you and you dropped into a hurried bow, hands crossed over your chest in the sign of the aquila.

Before you could reply, the darker skinned of the two cocked his head. “Look at her robes, Gadriel. I didn’t realize our dour Lieutenant had a personal serf.”

The other Ultramarine scowled. “Personal serfs remain in the officers’ quarters, Chairon.”

“Please, my lords, do you know where Lord Titus might be? I heard that he…,” you found speaking around the tightness in your throat difficult, “that he was injured.”

“Devoted little thing.” Chairon smiled.

“As she should be.” Gadriel looked unimpressed. “The Lieutenant’s health is apparently not anyone’s concern but his own, woman.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised you. “Please, my lords, if you could only-”

“How long have you served the Lieutenant?”

You almost took a step back at the sudden intensity in Gadriel’s expression. “I…um…just over a standard year, my lord.”

“You were with him during his service in the Death Watch?”

“Gadriel…,” Chairon sighed.

“Yes, my lord. For the last part of it.”

The blond Ultramarine leaned over you. “He truly served as a Black Shield?”

“He did, my lord.”

“Why?”

The conversation was starting to feel like an interrogation. “I-I don’t understand your question, my lord.”

“Throne, woman.” The look of disgust Gadriel sent you made your face heat in shame for the second time that day. “Why did he deny his chapter? What dishonor did he commit?”

“I don’t know, my lord.” His accusatory tone raised your hackles. “I can’t believe Lord Titus capable of dishonorable actions.”

Chairon chuckled even as Gadriel’s scowl deepened.

He stepped closer, sending a jolt of fear down your spine. “Impertinent-”

His companion placed a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, Gadriel. You would punish a serf for loyalty to her lord?”

Gadriel glanced at him, scoffed, and stomped away..

What was I thinking?! Taking that tone with one of the Emperor’s Angels?

And yet, you realized you’d do it again. Demetrian was everything to you. To hear someone accuse him of-

“Your devotion is commendable, miss.” The other Ultramarine, Chairon, continued smiling at you.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I would know your name.”

Something about his manner set you at ease. So different from his surly companion. You told him your name.

“The Lieutenant was undergoing diagnostics in the armory, last I knew. But he should be here shortly.”

You took a chance with this surprisingly friendly Ultramarine. “Can you…can you please tell me what happened, my lord?”

“I am sorry. Mission information is classified.”

He seemed genuinely regretful, but that didn’t ease your worry. “Of course, I understand, my lord.”

The Ultramarine seemed to study you. “I would know how the Lieutenant earned such devotion, if I may.”

Suddenly shy, you glanced down. “I should not keep you from your duties, my lord.”

“But you would be sparing me the boredom of interminable waiting before deployment.”

You smiled in spite of yourself. “Very well, my lord.”

***

Free at last from Magus Gallio’s poking and prodding, Titus stormed into the hangar. His hands and jaw clenched tight. His mind raced.

The Artifact….

He remembered the pain when he first looked upon it. Searing agony concentrating in the fresh scars and incisions of the Primaris surgery, but not originating there. Building and building until darkness took him.

It all felt so horribly familiar. Old memories surfaced. Names and places. Graia.

It cannot be happening again.

Cold sweat broke out on his skin as he sensed the lie in his own thoughts. As he remembered the carnage of two centuries past. If his darkest suspicions proved true, no one was safe as long as that thing existed.

You weren’t safe.

The urge to find you hit him like a punch from a dreadnought. His logical mind said he had scant time before his team’s deployment to Avarax, but everything else in him screamed for you. Just to see you. To hold you.

A soft, familiar laugh met his ears. He turned toward the sound, eyes searching the walkway.

You? Here?

In the darkest reaches of his mind, something primal snarled. You were not for others to see. They had no right to look upon you.

If he had rediscovered desire, who knew how many of his brothers had done the same? Perhaps they watched you even now. Perhaps their eyes traced your curves and longed to run their hands over them. Perhaps they wondered about the softness of your lips, the wet heat of your-

Stepping around a pile of supply crates, he saw the source of your laughter.

Brother Chairon stood next to you, near to you. He smiled and you smiled back. With an easy, casual motion, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting your face toward his.

Titus saw red. “Chairon!”

In a few lunging strides he stood beside you. Not giving you time to speak, he grasped your shoulder and yanked you away from his battle brother. Part of him felt guilt at your startled cry. But a louder, snarling part of him drowned it out.

The other Ultramarine’s brows furrowed. “Lieutenant. I trust the diagnostics-”

“Are none of your concern.” He spat.

“Demetrian?”

He heard confusion in your barely audible murmur. He ignored it.

Chairon blinked. “Have I done something to offend, brother?”

Titus growled. “Did you not learn in your neophyte days, brother, not to touch that which is not yours?”

“Deme- my lord,” you stammered, “Lord Chairon was merely-”

“Be silent.”

“There is no need to censure your serf, Lieutenant.” Chairon frowned. “I asked for her conversation.”

“For what purpose?”

“To while away the time before our deployment. That is all.”

Titus’ sensed the truth in his words, still, the snarling beast within refused to calm. “Your time would be better spent elsewhere.”

Chairon took the hint. “Yes, sir.” He nodded toward you. “Farewell, little one.”

Titus’ hands clenched into fists as he watched his fellow Ultramarine walk away. He heard you approach, steps tentative.

“Demetrian, what-?”

“I said, be silent.”

He didn’t understand his own reactions. Every sense seemed locked into high alert. Beneath his armor, his body burned.

He needed…he needed….

“Come.”

***

You almost fell to your knees when Demetrian all but threw you into the empty room. A storage closet, from the boxes of odds and ends scattered about. You had to press against the far wall when he followed you inside.

Your shoulder ached from his grasp. But your complaints died away when you turned back toward him. He towered above you, looking even larger in this tiny room. A muscle in his jaw ticked. Veins pulsed in the side of his neck.

And the look in his eyes….

Predator. Run.

No. This was Demetrian. Your Demetrian. You knew he would never hurt-

He fell upon you like a starved beast.

Massive gauntlets lifted you against the back wall. He pinned you there, ceramite armor cold even through your clothing. Then his mouth found yours.

You thought you knew Demetrian’s kisses. Gentle yet passionate. This was neither. You felt devoured, the way the force of his lips pressed your head back against the metal wall. The way his tongue dominated yours. He held you utterly immobilized, unable even to respond.

His kisses drew the very air from your lungs. Just as your vision began to dim, he withdrew, leaving you gasping. His mouth moved to your throat.

A part of you thrilled at the sting of his teeth against your jugular. “Demetrian, please!”

He growled like the great predatory felines of your homeworld. “Yes…say my name….”

The skin of your throat ached under his relentless assault. You pressed your hands flat against his breastplate. This wasn’t the gentle man you knew. You should be terrified.

But when he opened your robe with his teeth and tore away your breast band, your body reacted. “Oh, Throne!”

Titus buried his face in your chest. Between nips and suckles, you heard him muttering.

“Mine. Only mine.”

You began to understand. “Yes! Yours, Demetrian! Ah…!”

“Nothing will take you from me.”

“No! N-nothing! Mmm!”

One hand shifted between your legs and cupped your clothed center. Your hips jerked against him convulsively, sending sparks of pleasure searing through your lower body. Demetrian snarled again at the sound of your desperate whine.

He began to move his hand. Rubbing at you, the motions of his gauntleted fingers unpracticed and clumsy. But it didn’t matter. You were beyond ready.

You ground against him, simultaneously pressing your chest further into his face. “Don’t stop! Oh, Golden Throne! Don’t stop!”

“Never.”

The single word in his deep growl broke you. Pleasure raced through you, your back arched, and you would have screamed aloud if Titus’ mouth hadn’t covered yours again.

As you came down from your high, trembling and whimpering, his arms surrounded you in a more familiar embrace. He nearly crushed you against his breastplate, head resting on your shoulder. You felt his hot breath against your skin.

“Damn this armor.” He mumbled.

You almost laughed as your fear melted into tenderness.

Looping your arms around his neck, you pressed a soft kiss against his jaw. “Demetrian, love, do you really believe I’d choose any other man over you?”

***

Your words finally soothed the beast within. He still ached for you. Throne! Did he ache for you! But the mad red haze faded away.

And he realized what he’d done.

“Warp damn it!”

Pulling away, he took in your swollen lips, torn clothing, and mauled chest with growing horror.

Your soft hand stroked his cheek. “Demetrian, don’t.”

“I…I….”

He had no words to rationalize what he’d done. He didn’t understand it himself. Still, he tried.

“When I saw you in the hangar, surrounded by battle brothers…vulnerable…and then, Chairon….”

“You’ve been jealous before. I remember the Black Templar in the Watch-”

“You were not mine, then. Not in this way. This felt…Throne.” He couldn’t look at your sweet, understanding face any longer and leaned his head back against your shoulder. “Forgive me.”

He felt your tiny fingers card through his hair. “I do. I forgive you, Demetrian.”

“I lost control.” Shame burrowed into the pit of his stomach. “I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t though. Even…like that…you didn’t hurt me.”

Pulling back, he gave you an incredulous look. “Your breasts look as if you were attacked by a ripper swarm, woman!”

You laughed. Laughed.

He stared at you in wonder. Surely you were a gift from the Emperor for his century of unjust torment.

“Have you no fear, love?”

“I’ll admit you startled me, but no.” Your hands cupped his face. “I’m not afraid of you, Demetrian.” Your smile faded slightly. “I do think you owe Lord Chairon an apology, though. I truly believe he meant nothing but kindness.”

Titus thought of Chairon’s attitude around baselines. The concern he showed for the Guardsmen. He sighed.

“Perhaps.” He gently leaned his forehead against yours. “You were fortunate he was the one who took notice of you. Why did you come to the hangar?”

“Vesta told me you’d collapsed on your last mission. I was worried.”

Warmth surged through him and he pulled you tighter against his chest. “Little Healer, you need not worry for me.”

“What happened, Demetrian?”

Perhaps he’d tell you one day. The whole story.

His helmet vox crackled to life. “Squad assembled and Thunderhawk ready to depart, Lieutenant.”

With a sigh, he responded. “I am on my way.”

He set you on your feet, steadying you when you swayed. “Are you all right?”

You leaned against one of the crates. “I will be, in a minute or so.” Your eyes drifted down his armored form. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” You cocked an eyebrow and he finally caught your meaning. “Oh. Ah…I will endure.”

“If only certain parts of your armor could be easily removed.”

The want in your voice. “You astound me, woman.”

“You’re very attractive when you’re jealous, Demetrian.”

He blinked down at you, at a loss for words. “Truly?”

“Mmmhmm, “ your eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Throne,” he stooped and pressed his lips to yours one last time. “Be ready for me upon my return, Little Healer.”

You clung to him for a moment, repeating the words you said at every parting. “Be safe, Demetrian. I love you.”

I love you more than you will ever know. Nothing in this universe will rip you from my arms.

***

The silent figure watched Titus emerge from the storage compartment. On the surface, nothing seemed to be amiss. The former Captain walked with a sense of purpose and confidence he hadn’t seen in centuries.

What corruption lurks beneath that facade, brother?

His eyes followed the Ultramarine until he turned a corner and vanished from sight. That wouldn’t do. He began to pursue, when movement drew his eyes back to the door of the closet.

A serf. A female serf in the cerulean robes of a personal attendant. She held said robes tight over her chest, and looked back and forth furtively before scurrying off, a slight hitch in her step.

An unfamiliar scent met his nose, mingling with the strong overlay of Astartes sweat.

Behind the scarlet lenses of his skull helmet, Chaplain Leandros narrowed his eyes.

This bears further investigation.

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