Commission for @brloche of her Rogue Trader and Heinrix at the gym. Thank you for trusting me with Etoile once again. :)
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The sparring hall was bathed in the warm light of countless candles, their glow glinting off the ribs of metallic ropes surrounding the ring. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, iron, rubber — and even a faint trace of machine oil.
Étoile was the more aggressive of the two; her movements were fast, graceful — perhaps too graceful for hand-to-hand combat. Heinrix held his ground with restrained precision; each motion calculated, each block deliberate, serving its purpose as only an Inquisitor's would.
Their clash ended in a near draw.
He stood a short distance away, breathing harder than he’d like to admit. His body remained coiled, ready — his gaze fixed on her, tracking even the smallest twitch. She was still dangerous, even standing there in what looked like a relaxed stance, smiling faintly.
He saw her face clearly now — far too clearly. A lock of hair clung to her cheek. The Lord-Captain was… too striking.
He smirked — that familiar, serpentine half-smile, the kind that always came just before something sharp.
“If your outfit was meant to distract me, Lord-Captain,” he drawled, eyes locked with hers, “then you should’ve worn even less. Perhaps then I would’ve let you win this bout.”
Étoile bit her lip — an instinctive reaction of irritation. Her cheeks flushed, only briefly, but enough for him to catch it. Vulnerability? Oh, no. Her response came swiftly.
She lazily hooked a finger under the strap of her crimson bustier and snapped it against her shoulder with a smirk.
“Is such a small detail really enough to distract you, my dear Inquisitor?” she asked, voice laced with bite and undisguised challenge. “And here I thought you were above such lechery. You certainly wear your seriousness well.”
Heinrix laughed — a genuine, rough laugh that filled the room.
It cut off suddenly as she swept his legs out from under him with a sharp takedown.
A moment later, he was flat on his back, her augmented knee pressing into his abdomen. Étoile leaned on his leg, looking down at him with a predatory grin.
“Well, since you ask so sweetly, my dear,” she said, venomously sweet, smiling wider, “perhaps I shall let you see what’s beneath the training gear.”
Heinrix smiled back at her, his fingers trailing slowly along the curve of her augmetic leg, then slipping with practiced ease beneath her shorts.
“I believe I’d like that,” he murmured, returning her smile. “Though I suspect it wouldn’t hinder me much… Lord-Captain.”
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