http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ5SbpStA2A Battle Brother Taelos hated his situation, though he would never admit as much. It was rare for him to feel strongly one way or another. He had already tasted the bitter twang of betrayal, the gut-wrenching numbness of his body being broken, and boredom of a magnitude nigh unimaginable. Suffering the presence of xenos went against his being, however. It was grating on a level that Taelos simply was not used to. He was thankful that his brothers had roused him well before the strike. In addition to the many rites, it had long since been noted he preferred to stretch his legs before a skirmish. It gave Taelos time to meditate and focus his thoughts still further. The lack of sensation was ignorable for him- through meditation he was able to enter a trance, one that would shed his senses nearly to the same extent. He was used to this. No, Taelos welcomed the opportunity to serve once more. For nearly twenty minutes he had stalked past bulkhead after bulkhead. The occasional tremor from the ship engines caused him to teeter, but this was righted almost immediately. Despite the occasional mis-balance the dreadnought moved through the corridors with complete familiarity. Taelos consciously avoided moving any closer to the pod bays. As he went he also glanced into the occasional cabin, almost expecting to see familiar faces within. None greeted him. Taelos' wandering took him towards the promenade deck. The heavy, grungy hatches began to hum open as he approached, the servos sounding not dissimilar to his own. Before they'd opened fully Taelos froze in place. The promenade deck was magnificently large, the ceiling looming more than ten meters high. Along the walls were the usual gothic-minded construction; heavy crenelations along the surface, beautified by the odd banner or mural. The far wall was made up of a single massive plane of heavily reinforced glass, giving an unparalleled view of the stars. What made Taelos halt was the xeno-construction. A mockery of his own form, the creature stood off just near the glass, almost touching it by sheer proximity. Unlike himself it rose mightily tall, the backwards swept spines along its shoulders and back nearing the ceiling. Built with gentle rounding curves, and long limbs it was the complete opposite of his own blocky body. Most of the wraithbone seemed painted an off-yellow sort of color, save for the helm and cloth, which were instead a royal blue. A wide assortment of xeno-weaponry were attached to its shoulders, rotated backwards to be parallel with the rear. Though it was facing away from him Taelos could see the white helm-sigil in the reflection of the glass. He had already learned a few things about this abomination. Though the xenos witch was not close by, the wraith-construction had seemed to be aware of him on some level. Even without the sorcery it had moved out of his path earlier. Taelos also swore that it had been watching him earlier- the nonexistent gaze of the machine had still felt incessantly hot on him. Perhaps it recognized his own powers. Neither of them made a move. Was it ignoring him? Taelos made up his mind and began to approach. His footsteps rang against the floor, the metal on metal contact booming despite his leisurely pace. Once he reached the glass the dreadnought peered out to space as well. His vision was greatly restricted by the sarcophogus, his vision limited to a visor-like field. The view felt somewhat lackluster. Taelos couldn't help but feel an itch as well. This almost amused him- he had no limbs left from which to feel an itch, but it made his ghost skin crawl that he had exposed his side to such a being. Cautiously Taelos extended his senses toward the wraith-construction, at a lack of anything better to do. It came as a start when he felt something. Felt something! The moment he had cast his mind toward the construction there was an almost sense of warmth, of some kind of latent energy. This moment then passed and it vanished. Despite knowing better Taelos turned a little more towards it and again cast out his mind. A distorted sound came to him then- a bare whisper, a voice that sounded very far away, yet came from everywhere and nowhere. /Ii nif lin/ The dreadnought actually turned to face it at this point, shocked. His arms began to raise to a fighting position before he stopped himself. "What is this?" Taelos demanded, his vox an electronic rumble, nearly unintelligible. Again the voice sounded. The first syllables rang out with an almost unbearable volume, before regulating and fading out once more. /PEDIG! Edhellen/ "I asked you a question. Answer me!" What had been a shifting, distorted noise suddenly snapped into clarity. /-you and I are alike-/ "How dare-," Taelos growled," we are nothing alike, xeno. I serve the Emperor- not the capricious whims of witches and madmen." Silence stretched out for a long moment. The sudden absence of that voice felt jarring. /How did you fall?/ "How..." The dreadnought regarded the Eldar-craft for a moment, surprised. This thing seemed to change mental gears way too fast. "Why ask me this? What is it to you?" The ensuing silence was much longer than the first. For a while Taelos did not think that it would respond, and that it had lapsed back into whatever inactivity he had first seen it in. /I once walked in the flesh too, you know./ "What?" /The Great Devourer, the Shadow, turned itself upon my home. Many of my kind were lost; I among them/ That was new to Taelos. Without considering his words he began to speak. "I was defeated by traitorous scum; the fallen of my kind." More silence. /Slay you many?/ Taelos thought back to his fall- it was the first time in ages he cared to do so. The memories were as vivid as ever, almost painful still. The physical pain was nothing compared to the pain of his brothers. Had he fought harder more may have lived. "Yes." Instead of a response Taelos felt some form of satisfaction. More time passed. /Do you miss your flesh?/ The marine couldn't help but think how pointless of a question that was. "Yes! I... it is not the same. Battles are not the same. I am of more limited use to my brothers- no longer am I able to lead, to rally, and support in the same fashion. I thank the Emperor for what I have, all the same." /You are both less and more than you once were./ That was accurate enough. /What did you look like?/ Taelos felt surprise once more. That was one of the last things he ever thought of- it had long since been locked away in his mind, set aside, as flights of fancy and fanciful, wishful memories of better times. A pange of longing lanced through Taelos. How he had loved the feeling of wind in his hair, the crash and pressure of explosions upon his hood. "Broad, as are my kind. Taller than most. More lean. I was allowed to grow a long beard and locks of hair, each the color of a sunrise. Four Service Studs upon my brow. What, ah, about you?" /Do you wish to see?/ Warning bells sounded in the marine's head. Still, he had gone this far. "Briefly." At once Taelos felt that warmth grow in intensity, slightly, and he could see a faint blue blur toward the center of his vision. Knowing not what else to do, Taelos focused upon it and wished for the image to grow clear. He was left with an impressive sight. For a few breaths Taelos took in the image of a striking Exarch, a female Eldar, of impressive make. Standing tall, the figure was built strongly and powerfully yet not nearly as stickly as the normal Eldar. Yellow aspect armor hugged her form well, the battle plates and mesh not quite able to conceal the ample curves. Still further up was a lean face, with a delicate pointed chin. Though the females eyes were inhumanly large, and slanted slightly, they seemed to center the face and put it all in proportion. Raven-colored locks fell to her shoulder. In addition to this image the marine briefly felt more. He shivered within the sarcophagus as he felt the chill, high altitude breeze of a tall mountain. Light bombarded his skin, gently heating him. A smell somewhere between the sea and plastic passed his nostrils. The sudden addition of smell and feel was almost overwhelming. Taelos recoiled, but immediately regretted it when the senses were lost. How long had it been since he had felt such things? Centuries? Despite his overwhelming lack of flesh, and secured position, the marine continued shivering inside his armored shell. "Yours is the more impressive, I think." Again he felt the pleased, amused response. Yet the barest glimpse was not enough. A desperate need took the Astartes- he had to feel once again. He would go mad if that was the only return to the old days he could have. Taelos took a step closer to the wraith body. At some point during all of this it had turned to face him. "Do it again." The Eldar complied. This time Taelos poured himself into the illusion and focused his mind. Sparks crackled across his armored shell. The scenery was different this time. Rather than some mountain at sea, Taelos found himself gazing upon the Eldar at rest- her yellow, shapely armor discarded for flowing robes. He could all but feel the texture of the alien satin on his skin, breathe in that same sea scent. A dreadnought close-combat reached out, tenderly, and touched the wraithbone for the first time. What was intended to be tender was anything but; his numb, combat-built claws were not meant for any sort of delicate force-feedback. Wraithbone compressed ever so slightly and the wraithlord slid across the ground fractionally, a sick scratching sound emanating from the floor. Taelos didn't care. His inner mind was too busy paying attention to the curvaceous alien, now seemingly devoid of robe. Puffs of warp energy crackled around the corner of his vision, the image somewhat distorted by his less-than clear state of mind. With his dreadnought claws, and force halberd, the marine reached around the wraithlord. The tiny, unnaturally slim waist was easy to close his stuby limbs around. he then pulled back towards himself, flattening the alien material to his sarcophagi. A small "BOOM" echoed through the room. Warmth. Softness. The Eldar felt intoxicating, the muscled and soft form pressed to his own. She felt so much smaller than himself, but was every bit a capable warrior. Silky-smooth hair ran across his hairless pectoral. Compared to his former sensory deprivation, the sudden return of something close to reality was overwhelming. Every sensation felt magnified a thousand fold- the hair tickled him like feathers, the warmth of her skin feeling like something that might burn. Tenderly his hands roamed up and down, feeling the toned form and muscles of the forbidden xeno. At the same time she craned her head up over one shoulder, peering up at him with those large yellow eyes, the xeno's breath mixing with his own. A sound unimaginably painful filled the room, the cacophony of plasteel stroking wraithbone something not meant to ever occur. Something infinitely worse than nails on a chalkboard filled the room, the hardened glass not shattering by a pure miracle. Already paint had begun to scratch off the dreadnought, sticking itself to the self-regenerating armor of the alien wraithlord. And it did not stop. Though the small hands on his chest were heavenly, Taelos wrapped his hands around the xeno's slim waist and turned her to face him. At once a kiss was placed upon his massive chest, the sudden warm tickle causing him to twitch and shake. His hands roamed on down, lower, cupping around the iron-hard posterior of the exarch. The small, bubble-shaped rear felt like heaven in his hands, kneading and squeezing at it. Not quite satisfied Taelos lightly pushed, to clear some distance, and then fell to both knees. BOOM. Now at the correct height, the marine raised one of his hands to run across one of the Eldar's breasts. The mount was delicious to look at; inhumanely round and firm. His hand trailed up and over it tenderly, gently, their skin just barely making contact. Everywhere her skin had begun to flush with heat, burning like the most pure of fire. Guardsmen in the room would have screamed, their ears potentially bleeding from the cacophony of scratching metals and wraithbone. Fine hands trailed lightly over Taelos' hair, twining in the soft and golden locks. The Eldar then pulled him in closer, the marine's lips gently wrapping around the tip of her breast. Without having to be told, the astartes began to alternate blowing and sucking lightly, his tongue flickering around the xeno's hardening nipple. His lower hand encountered moisture, a slick bead of dew running down one of the xeno's thighs. The space marine kept up his attentions for a moment longer, enthralled with her breast, but there was still more to be had. Again he wrapped his hands around her waist. Pulling back, the space marine all but picked her up. She'd have fallen to the floor, hard, if not for his strong arms holding her steady. A massive, massive boom echoed through the ship, rattling the windows several rooms over. Placing himself over her, Taelos dwarfed the Eldar in sheer broadness and stature, though none of his weight fell upon her. Fingers reached up and twined in her hair, the xeno's own hands wrapping around his muscled back. Limbs twisted and rolled. They did not kiss; that would be heresy. Instead Taelos' teeth found themselves placed upon her neck, gently teething, but only just. The xeno shuddered. Legs wrapped around his thighs, urging on the astartes. They both wanted this; the xeno's legs were tight about him, not willing to let go. This was fine with Taelos; slowly lowering, he guided himself to the sweet folds of the Eldar. As if by magic he found his way, even without the outside help of a hand. Slick, hot, wet folds began to admit him. Flesh parted but hugged at his own, the incredible tightness only just yielding. As he entered the Eldar let out a silent moan, her inhuman face contorted in bliss. Taelos let her adjust to his size, only just entering. For a long moment he remained in this position, even as the Eldar's womanhood clenched and tightened around him. She wanted him. The Eldar's hands tightened across his back and pulled at him. Her legs constricted more. One light thrust. CLANG. The Eldar's generous breasts bounced, her hair splaying out around her head and shoulders in a black halo. Taelos thrust again, just as tenderly as the first. CLANG. Slowly he began to build up a rhythm. Faster and faster Taelos pumped, though the speed never increased beyond an even in and out. This was well enough to satisfy the Eldar; her eyes fluttering and all but rolling back into her head, mouth forming silent words of encouragement. The way she squeezed around his length was overwhelming, beyond all the sensations so far. From extreme numbness to ecstacy, it was hard to keep his mind on the connection that had formed between the two. Another longer, harder shove caused the Eldar to roll back across the floor. She began to move with him, gyrating her core to meet him in time with the thrusts. Their flesh began to slap together at a harder pace. CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG- Stretching, the Eldar opened her legs still wider- wrapping them further up along the astartes' waist. This gave him a better access point, which he quickly took advantage of. Easing in and out, Taelos would take his member out almost all of the way, and then forced his rod back inside in one clean motion. This had the intended effect; the exarch trembling in throngs of pleasure, nails raking at his back. Taelos felt as his rod began to witch and pulse. Though astartes, his body was long since disconnected with the most basic of senses. The xeno's hot embrace was putting him over the edge. Between the hot, disconcertingly hot skin contact and deliciously tight womanhood he could hardly hold on. She felt it coming as well, her shudders and shakes picking up in intensity. He could hold on no longer. The Eldar let out a wail, in that musical voice, and was what finally set Taelos over the top. Exploding, the astartes began to pump his seed into the xeno, one thick rope after another. Her body clenched around him at the same time, encouraging him, milking him for all he was worth. Their moans melded together and began to die down, though their bodies were still wracked with electricity and pleasure. *** When Taelos finally came to, and gave a look around, he couldn't help but feel indifferent. The floor was scratched to all hell within ten feet, but that wasn't the worst of it. Nearly all of the crimson-colored paint had been removed from his thighs and crotch, now adorning the same area of the long and lithe wraithlord. Still a thousand more scratches adorned the rest of his armor, looking as though he had gone through razorwire several times. The tangle of their mismatched limbs was almost comical. Taelos realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that things probably hadn't even been lined up correctly. Just a confusing thrash and roll of random limbs, twisting around like some broken servitor. "Neither of us shall ever speak of this." /Agreed./ The two of them unembraced and rolled to either side. Once untangled the wraithlord stood up to its feet, shakily, and managed to haul Taelos back up to his own feet. Neither of them noticed the promenade hatch had opened during the romp. Elsewhere, in the pod bays, a handful of Eldar and space marines refused to look at one another. Their gazes remained upon the floor or ceiling.