Tags: F-Eldar/M-Mon-keigh, anal, analingus, insertion, xenophilia, consensual

You watch the smoking Ork in shock.  Even with its head, shoulder, and the left half of its torso blown off by the point blank shot, it thrashes its right arm wildly, smashing fist-dents in the fortress walls until.  Green mucky organs spill out of the open chest.  At last the xeno loses it balance and topples.  By coincidence its hand flops right toward you, accusingly.

The beast's index and forefinger uncurl, leaving you with a final V-sign.

The meltagun is smoking in your hand.

The strange cold Eldar lady, allied by necessity with your unit for the duration of the Waaagh!, levels her eyes at you.  She'd been caught by surprise in the hallway leading from her quarters -- though mostly armoured, she isn't wearing her helmet and wings.  The pointed white chin guard and the mandiblasters on either cheek complete the image of effortless murder almost as completely as the curl of her mouth.

"You saved my life, mon-keigh.  Again."

Devastating, her voice.

"It, it, it was an accident.  It's not even my gun."

They taught you on the way here that Eldar are xenos to be cleansed, but your brain can't put her in the same category as the green smoking filth that is starting to bubble.

"My people will sterilise the body.  Come with me."

She leads you to into her quarters.  The ambush had happened just outside - someone, something much smarter than an Ork must have led it there on purpose.  If you hadn't been tasked with checked the plasma armaments...

The door shut.

"I would not have the others hear what I will say now.  If you tell them I will kill you."  Her face haughty, contemptuous.  "Twice now I owe you my life.  It is not right to be in debt to one such as you.  Ask now for whatever you wish that is in my power to grant."

/Go exterminate yourself when the battle's over/ says your inner Inquisitor.  /Teach our admechs the secrets of your craftworld/ says your strategist.  /Take me away from this hell and deliver me to some nice out-of-the-way island on Reth/ says your heart.

Your cock has another idea.

"My lady," the words come before you know what you are saying, "to serve you is all the reward I need and more than I deserve," (where is this heresy coming from?), "but if you'll deign to gratify a lesser being whose path extended yours when they crossed, all I'd ask is..." and your voice drops to a whisper for the last few words.

Her eyes flare with outrage.  Already she looms a head taller than you; suddenly she towers like a mountain, like the few Astartes you've ever seen.

"How DARE you?  To suggest I stain myself.  Leave my sight!"

You're halfway to the door when she calls,  "Wait!"

"Maybe I am too hasty.  A low creature can't help its wants.  I thought you would ask to for a song, at most a feather from my armour to remember me by.  I closed the door so no one would see that disgrace.  And you want... I am sorry mon-keigh, it is impossible."

You open your mouth to object, she sees you, her cold glance does not let you speak.

"I said impossible.  I owe you gratitude, not the abomination that would grow in me from your seed.  Do you think my people would suffer it to live?  Would yours?"

"Aha," you say, "exalted one, if that is your worry, let me suggest -" and you whisper quieter still.

Kayleth pauses.  She considers.

She regards you with utter contempt.

"Very well," she says.  She presses two red jewels near the bottom of her carapace armour's abdomen plate.  A clicking sound.  She reaches behind, and pulls of the plates that run under her crotch and around the back of her ass.  Beneath she is covered by a silken fabric.

Then, perhaps deciding that simply pushing the garment to one side would lack comfort, or dignity, or whatever alien things these Eldar care about, she presses more studs along the shoulder.  Her pauldrons (if such minimal shoulder cover deserves the name) are the first to go, then the face gear,  the chest and back plates, all carefully set against the wall of her austere room.  Beneath, the same shimmering gray-white material.  Only her arms and legs are armoured.

She pulls the pearlescent garment over her head and you gasp at her perfect, milk-white skin.  Her form is not quite human.  Impossibly lithe.  Impossibly strong, yet without the heavy musculature of a Sister of Battle.  Nipples tiny, a soft pink on flawless white.  Hairless white mound, not the slightest hint of stubble, above lips you could swear hold the same haughty, proud pout as her face.

"Wait a minute," she says.  She takes off one thermoplastic glove, bends slightly forward and reaches behind to the place you've asked to claim.

To your surprise, she pulls from her ass a long thin yellow-white stick, elegantly curved as though to follow the contour of her alien rectum.  She turns it over, examining it for a moment -- it is quite spotless -- and then she notices you staring with your mouth open.

"Wraithbone," she says.  "Helps maintain a rigid posture in battle."

In all this strange encounter you have barely noticed the tasteful, austere, yet subtly alien trappings of Kayleth's room.  A long low silver platform that could be a bed or a dining table takes up much of the space.  You only notice this because she hikes one leg up on it, turning her flawless hindquarters toward you.

"Here is what you requested."

So it is!  Her white pussy lips, still pouting, open ever so slowly onto the pink depths of her cunt.  You're shocked you when your eyes find her asshole.

"It's so small!" you exclaim.

Kayleth sniffs.  "I've studied the anatomies of all the lower races we meet on the battlefield.  You mon-keigh pass all sorts of half-digested earth out your backsides.  What little of our sustenance we Eldar don't absorb entirely, we excrete once a month as a tiny jewel.  Nothing thicker than my wraithbone support has ever passed through the portal you're staring at."

You nearly ask her if it will hurt too much, but don't dare insult so lethal a warrior by suggesting she take any notice of pain.

You're as hard now as Angelicasta fortress, and it takes only moments to unbuckle, unlace and kick out of your standard issue boots and trousers -- all so much rougher and clumsier than Kayleth.  Your prick, free to the air, sings of your arousal.  Kayleth's expression does not change, but she doesn't take her eyes from your cock, and you remember hearing that an Eldar male's equipment just doesn't come close.

"So be it," she says.  "Take your prize."

You put a first tentative hand on her ass.  The skin is cool, and soft, so much softer than you would have believed possible on a warrior's body.  The buttock beneath firm, the muscle yielding.  You put a second on her, experiment with moving a little, then you open the cheeks of her behind.

Daring more, you put your cock against her ass, between her cheeks, and stroke back and forth, rubbing against her tiny anal pore.  You have no idea how you're going to get it in there.

"Wait," the Eldar says.  "Like this."  You take a step back, and to your amazement she reaches between her legs and begins to stroke her pussy lips.  You've been with enough human women to know they don't do it like that -- she's ignoring the clit in favor of stroking the lips themselves, with the effect of opening up her hole obscenely to your hungry eyes.  Kayleth seems not to notice.  Back and forth her fingers go, until a perfect drop of moisture beads up near the hole.

Swiftly, delicately, she takes the dewdrop on her finger and brings it to your cock.  One drop is apparently enough: her quick silken hands spread it over you until your hard manhood is glistening wet.

Your whole body WANTS this xeno, now, right this minute.  When she withdraws her hand you place it right at her tiny anal pucker and push.

And nothing happens.

She is so tight.  Hard as you are, wet and slippery as that one miraculous drop from Kayleth's cunt has made you, still you might as well be pushing against the Golden Throne.  You grab her narrow hips and pull her to you: still nothing.  You put an arm on her bare shoulder for purchase and push, push as hard as you dare.  Nothing!

Kayleth turns her head and frowns.

"Get down on your knees, mon-keigh."

You find your limbs obeying before your brain has a chance to obey.

"Now loosen it like this."  And reaching back she grabs your hair and pulls your face between her cheeks.

What are you doing?  You smell it - the rich, intoxicating, smell of her cunt, an alien flower whose scent you can't quite place but wakes the blood in your veins.  You want so much to shove your tongue in that warm, wet place, but if you offend her will she deny you the gift of sodomy?  Instead you run your tongue back and forth over the littler hole.  There is no shit-taste, not even the slight bitter taste of the cleanest human female's asshole; but it's different too, it's cinnamon and nutmeg, almond and cream.

In a matter of moments your licking of her ass goes from tentative to frantic.  You cover her asshole with your mouth and suck it towards you, like you want to consume it.  After bathing it back and forth you point your tongue and try to penetrate.  And, like magic, where the knocking of your cock made no headway, the slippery insinuatig tongue-tip opens her up.  Back and forth, back and forth you work at that little bit of progress, opening her a little farther each time, unlocking new delights and wonders.

You could do this for hours, days, but in that indifferent tone Kayleth says "Enough."

"Now try again."

Breathless you position yourself, your cock still slippery wet.  You slide it into position, rub the head back and forth where your tongue has just been.  You push.  You push hard.  And, just barely, she begins to give.  Her anus opens the tiniest fraction; you can see the head begin to dip a fraction.  You relax and pop right out, push forward again.  If you weren't so incredibly hard this would be impossible.

Daring a bit of extra joy, you reach down and touch the little hole with your fingertip.  Kayleth's head whips around but she does not object, and slowly you work your forefinger in up to the first, second digit.  It's squeezed so tight -- how will it squeeze with your dick in there?

It's time to find out.

You withdraw your finger and put your cock in its place.  You push again, gently at first, and perhaps half the head begins to penetrate.

And then you both know.  This is going to be it.

You put both hands on her shoulders.

And then you start to push harder.  No human woman or male for that matter could bear this, but this is an Eldar warrior.  She does not even flinch.  You push, and it starts moving, starts sliding into her vice-like grip, and the head is in!  But you don't stop, no, no sliding back and forth to loosen her a little, the ecstasy is in your brain now, you want this haughty creature, this xeno filth, this beautiful lady to feel all of what you have in her, and in delight you pull hard on her shoulders and shove forward with your hips and it slides inch by glorious inch up her rectum.

You look down, and you see that you're filling her ass completely.  So tight!  And so hot inside -- from her cold ways and cool skin you'd never guess the body inside is far hotter than a human's.

And now you begin to fuck.

She doesn't move, and you begin gently, more for your own safety in that incredible tightness and to savour the moment (or so you tell yourself).  Slowly, all the way back, and then in again, letting her feel her ass take in every inch of you.  It is less impossible now, but oh the tight slippery ring of her anus working up and down like massaging lips, and to your delight the rectum walls themselves are not loose like the women you've known but tight as a newly-shared cunt.

Back and forth, and your hands wander over the silk of shoulders, back, and ass as your cock glories in the joy of her nether hole.  But Kayleth hasn't reacted, and this bothers you a little.

"Do you feel it?" you ask, encouraging, but also really wondering.

Kayleth turns to you her stern unchanging face.

"Mon-keigh," she says.  "You do not know what you do.  I am an ELDAR.  My senses are as far beyond yours as the stars are beyond a squig; further refined than you than you are to that dead Ork in the hallway.  I feel EVERYTHING.  Your mon-keigh hands.  The scents of our bodies.  There are more nerve endings in the depths of my rectum than in your whole epidermis, and at the ring...  every vein in your cock, the ridge of your head, each hair pressed up against my rim, your balls slapping against my cunt... I sense every detail how you sodomise me."

You like the sound of that, and speed up your strokes.

"And do you know," she says in a cold voice, "why I do not react?"  As she says "react" you give a massive shove, all the way, hoping to affect her voice, but it doesn't change the slightest timbre.  "Because that is how we hold off She Who Thirsts."  Huh?  Some alien thing?  You let her talk.

"Only in perfect self-control do we keep off the taint of Chaos.  Only by not slipping the slightest inch."  At the word "inch" you shove even as you are already buried, testing how far in that incredible body you can go.  Impaling her like this, you stay deep in and shift from side by side, stirring your dick around in her tight depths.  "The nerves of my body tell me everything you do, I let myself feel it, but I do not let feeling move me.  I cannot.  The more you try, the more *tight* I must hold myself."

And then she does it.  She clamps down on your cock not just with her sphincter but with her entire rectum, squeezing, crushing, palpating you.  It is the most wonderful sexual feeling you've ever had, like being in a hot oily vice.

You slide, in and out, in and out, the pleasure mounting and mounting.  All sense of restraint lost, you plant kisses on her back, your hands wrap around and cup her magnificent breasts, squeezing them.  The mammary glands aren't quite in the same place but it feels good, good, to hold that wonderful softness as you nibble the base of her neck and find and stroke the now-hard little nipples.

You're thrusting like a madman now, communicating the urgency of your passion through the hole she's offered now.  Kayleth doesn't speak now, just bears the brunt of your passion.  Her breathing is quiet.  But to your delight, with your hand on her chest you catch her breaths lengthening and deepening, a betrayal, however minute, of what she feels.

Your orgasm isn't far now, you can feel it from a great distance, making every nuance of her warm tight squeezing spasming ass-flesh more immediately blissful -- and then you dare everything to make it perfect, you reach with your hand between her legs and cup her cunt with your fingers.

Kayleth makes no move to swat the hand away.  Perhaps to do so would be an admission of weakness, or perhaps, you think to yourself in the throes of pleasure, that is just how she excuses herself.  The marvellous wetness -- you slide two fingers into her hole, gently, gently -- it's a slightly different shape from a human woman's tunnel, but the same purpose, and oh you can feel through the thin wall of Eldar flesh separating cunt from rectum, you can feel your cock bludgeoning into her.

And then it's upon you.  You press inside her with your fingers, stroke where a human woman would have her G-spot, and thrust deep deep deep, saw back and forth into that gorgeous giving ass like a crazy person, and it's there, you give her your cum, you fire it up her shithole in great hungry spurts, you moan and bring your cunt-mostened hand to her lips, let her perfect Eldar sense smell a bit of herself, and roughly you turn her haughty face to yours and give her a kiss on the mouth as the last of your come spasms up into her.

You collapse over her, hands enjoying a little more of her tits before trailing lazily over her firm flat stomach.  Only now do you notice that your whole body is sweating. Kayless doesn't have a drop of (her own) perspiration.

You take the time catch your breath, replenish the oxygen in your veins, your happy cock still buried deep in her Eldar rectum.  In the afterglow the tight anal grip feels like friendship.

Finally, before she has a chance to become impatient, you slide slowly out -- but when you're nearly out you slide your whole length right back into her -- just once before you slide out for real, like a parting kiss.

There isn't a speck of shit on your manhood.  You'll wash it back in barracks, but you'd be willing to bet there isn't a single bacterium either.

"Look at it, mon-keigh.  Look where you were."

As tiny and tight as it was before.  Maybe the slightest bit puffy from all the rough play.  Somehow not one drop of your semen has escaped: none of it is on you, and none has dripped out of her.

She picks up the long thin curved wraithbone she had set down earlier, and you watch as she introduces it swiftly, neatly back into her asshole.  It pops in -- the Eldar must not lose things in there the way humans do -- and you get a last goodbye glance at her precious pucker.  She stands again, stiff.  

Is it the illusion of afterglow, or have her features ever so slightly softened?

"My hole has passed the test," Kayleth whispers to herself.  "It will diminish, and recover, and remain my sphincter."

Tall again she seems, this woman-alien you groped and sodomised now towers above you once more.  Straight-backed, small breasts jutting proudly.

"Go now, mon-keigh.  Never speak of this."

You walk from the room in silence -- nearly, and then turn to her.

"Lady, I go, but I take this memory with me.  Every night, every dream, I will be stroking inside the walls of your behind and filling your flawless passage with my seed."  You're talking like a queer, but fuck it, if anyone heard you they'd already have summarily BLAMmed you for heretical xeno sex.

You are half-way out the door.

"Mon-keigh!"

You turn.

"Twice you saved my life.  If ever our paths cross again... you can ask for this one more time."