Kindred Spirits

The Glorious Lance was beginning to come back to life. Piece by piece, bulkhead by bulkhead and deck by deck, the Tempest-Class frigate was being rebuilt. Flights of void-hardened servitors swarmed around its gilt and gargoyle encrusted flanks, their welders and plasma torches sparking silently in the darkness as they repaired the damage dealt to the ship's exterior. Massive craters pockmarked the starboard side of the hull where it had been repeatedly struck with hurled munitions, but by luck or the will of the Emperor, none had penetrated deeply enough to jeopardize the ship's internal systems.

The boarding torpedoes had seen to that instead.

It felt strange, walking through the ship's corridors once more. The brutal void-battle that had seen the Glorious Lance so badly damaged had ended a fortnight past, but I could still hear the bellowed warcries of the Orks that had beset her echoing inside my head. The greenskins themselves were slain, but signs of their barbarity were everywhere. Bulletholes pockmarked the walls and the decks were stained with dried blood, much of which would never be cleaned off. Glass from smashed cognis-stations crunched underfoot. The vox-network was offline, and crewmen ran frantically past me, couriering messages back and forth between the command sanctum and the Mechanicus shrine in the lower decks.

None of them noticed me. That, too, felt oddly disquieting. Dressed in plain fatigue trousers and a black vest, without the ostentatious dress tunic the Captain insisted I usually wear, it was like I was invisible to them. Pausing by one of the vast armaglass windows that lined the corridor, I turned to examine myself in the distorted reflection. Short black hair, cut for practicality rather than beauty, framed a lean, dusky skinned face, marred by a trio of long scars over the left cheek and eye socket. Though neither overly tall nor muscular, regular sessions in the ship's exercise bay had kept me fit, and despite being raised in the reeking depths of a hive city, a lucky draw of the genetic lottery had left me with clean, smooth limbs and a trim figure with just enough curves to avoid the dreaded label of 'petite'.

It was no surprise that I was being ignored, I thought. Without my uniform, I might as well have been a common armswoman. Turning away from the window, I reached out and grabbed a young, blonde man dressed in the uniform of a petty officer by the arm.

"You." I said. "I need an update on the ship's repairs. Report."

His face, marred by a terrible mustache which he probably thought made him look dashing, twisted in irritation before he realized who I was.

"Seneschal Linza!" He stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you, what with - with the new arm."

"No, I suppose you didn't." I replied, raising my new arm and flexing the metal fingers. It was a high-quality augmetic, plated with glossy black armour and inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. The servos still felt tight and unresponsive compared to the flesh and blood original, and I didn't think I'd ever get used to the soft whining sound it made when it moved, but it could have been worse. My shoulder twinged as I remembered the blinding explosion of pain as it had been torn off by the Orks, and I suppressed a wince. It could have been my head, after all. "Now that you have, that report, please?"

He nodded and began to fill me in. I'd co-ordinated much of the repairs as best I could from my bed on the medicae decks as I recovered, but it was reassuring to be out and able to see the work underway. Most of the Lance's weapons were still disabled and only half the Void Shields had been reactivated, but the ship's engines were operational and there was no danger of its superstructure collapsing under the stresses of transit. I interrupted after he told me that the bodies of the Orks had been disposed of, blasted out of the airlocks.

"I ordered them burned." I said. "And instructed pyro-teams to scour every deck the Orks reached, along with the ones directly above and below. If their spores get settled anywhere, it won't be long before the bloody monsters are sprouting up around our feet."

"Ah, yes..." came the sheepish reply. "Lady Hohlstein countermanded you. She didn't want to risk the Elresian rugs on level 38 being damaged."

Maximilla Hohlstein. Rogue Trader Maximillia bloody Hohlstein. Perhaps the most unholy combination of capriciousness and greed I'd ever come across. She wasn't a bad person, I told myself, not really. Just selfish, arrogant, and stubborn in the extreme. My head hurt just thinking about the argument that I was going to end up having with her.

"Fine, I'll go - no." I cut myself off with a shake of the head. "No, the Captain can wait. I need to go thank someone for saving my life."

Dismissed, the petty officer scurried away, no doubt eager to return to his assigned task. "Those rugs are as ugly as the thrice-cursed Eye anyway." I muttered to myself, setting off down the corridor again. "They'd probably make me a Saint if I burned them."

I stopped off at one of the ship's stores to select a bottle of wine before beginning my descent into the lower levels of the ship. Maximillia wasn't fussy about who she signed on as part of her crew. It had been a surprise to find myself working alongside Xenos at first, but I'd learned something about them very quickly; for all their strange habits, most of them aren't that dissimilar from humans. You got the odd exception, like the Thyruss, who seemed to treat the entire universe as a grand stage to act out some insane play of theirs, but most of them want the same things as us. Food, companionship, and a safe place to sleep on the small scale, with resources, security, and space to expand on the other end of the spectrum. Even Orks broadly fit the mold, once you understand that for them, 'security' means an external enemy to stop them from destroying one another.

Of course, while the Rogue Trader might not have had qualms about employing aliens to do her dirty work, the bulk of the crew wouldn't have reacted well to seeing them strutting around the place, which forced most of them to bunk (or lair, depending on your take) where they would be at least somewhat out of the way. I descended two decks in a barely-functioning, rattly cargo elevator before stepping out into what had once been a maintenance sub-level, before being converted into a habitation deck for Maximillia's menagerie. There was a sterility about it that I found faintly unpleasant. Much of the ornate interior decorations and devotional motifs had been stripped away, many of the inhabitants having little reason to love the Emperor. A thick, animal musk hung in the air as I stepped out of the elevator. Maximillia kept her various pets and war-beasts here as well, and a chorus of barks, snarls, and hoots greeted me as I began making my way through the steely corridors.

"Korrok?" My voice echoed away and was quickly lost among the cacophony of animal noise. "Korrok, are you there?"

He'll be tending his hounds, I thought. Just for a moment, I felt a brief shiver of anticipation. Something about the alien had caught my eye ever since we'd been introduced. His body was tall and lean, sculpted from almost pure muscle, and he virtually exuded an aura of barely restrained feral energy that I couldn't help but find appealing despite the gulf between our respective biologies. He reminded me a little of Garrex, the backwards shaman-tracker Maximillia had hired on some years ago; they shared the same lean, long limbed physique, the same air of pent-up ferocity that always fired my imagination in the dirtiest ways.

But while Garrex had been a barely civilized animal of a man, his arrogant, backwards attitudes quashing any urge to act on my attraction to him, there was nothing bestial about Korrok at all - quite the opposite, in fact. Of all the aliens I'd encountered, Korrok was by far one of the most civil. He was polite and courteous, and though he adorned himself with little more than loose bands of stitched hide and handcrafted trophies, they had been made with obvious skill and creative flare. We had never worked together particularly closely - Maximillia used him as a scout and a tracker when venturing out into the wilderness, while I was much more at home in more civil environments - but from our occasional meetings in the past, I suspected his frustrations with Maximillia mirrored my own.

I called out again as I made my way through the aft passageway, and this time, received a reply.

"Here, Anette." Korrok's voice drifted back. It was stilted, a hair away from broken, and a small smile tugged at my lips at the harsh way he pronounced my name; Ah-Net, ending in a sharp click. "With the pack."

He was not far, and it didn't take me long to find him. Korrok sat on his haunches, one of his long, wiry arms extended through the bars of a great cage. Between two thick fingers and and a thumb, he held out a haunch of dripping meat to the alien hound within. It snatched the prize from him and loped away, worrying at it with its huge, hooked beak. His rough skin was coloured a deep olive green, fading to a pale tan on his smooth, leathery belly, and he let out a series of soft clicks and warbles to the feeding animal.

My arm twinged again. The Ork that had taken it would have finished me off if it hadn't been for him. The last thing I'd seen before losing consciousness had been Korrok bounding over the piles of the dead to fell the greenskin with his hatchets, and a small, anxious tremor passed through me as he turned and rose.

Korrok was a Kroot; an alien mercenary from the jungle planet of Pech. He was humanoid, standing a head and shoulders taller than me, every inch of him bound with ropes of tight, corded muscle. Even stationary, he looked as if he was about to burst into motion at any moment, like a piece of elastic drawn too tight. Small clusters of spines pushed through his skin here and there, around the tops of his thighs and his elbows, mirroring the great crest of black quills that swept back from his elongated, noseless skull. They flexed and shivered, a pair of dark, watchful eyes regarding me from above a lipless, avian beak.

The sight of him took my breath away. He stepped forwards, moving with the same easy, predatory lope as the hound did. It was difficult not to stare at the way his musculature tensed and flexed beneath his skin, or to be overwhelmed by his sharp, exotic scent.

"Anette?" He croaked. Korrok spoke deep in his throat, shaping the words with powerful vocal chords rather than with lips and tongue. "You wished me?"

I shook my head. He was an alien - even if by some stretch he did find me as enthralling as I found him, Kroot didn't reproduce in the same way as humans. Our bodies were simply far too different for any sort of consummation.

Still. It was difficult not to look at him and wonder what it would feel like to have those long, powerful arms wrapped around my body, to feel the soft bite of his claws nipping at my skin as we explored one another's unfamiliar forms.

"Yes, I - I came here to say thank you." I said, briefly tripping over my words. "For getting me out of that mess alive."

There was a moment of silence. I lifted the bottle of wine, holding it up like a religious offering, feeling an anxious knot building in the pit of my stomach. "I thought we could have a drink. Or is that not something you do?"

Korrok gave me a sideways look, as if he was examining my words for any deception, then nodded and clacked his beak approvingly. "Is tradition for kindred to feast after battle. Korrok is kindred of one, but will not refuse a guest. Will make change from eating with hounds, certainly."

He turned and gestured for me to follow, and I let out a small breath that I didn't know I'd been holding. I knew about Kroot biology and had some knowledge of their culture, but there was always the chance that I had missed something, or assumed too much and offended him. Korrok loped off down the corridor, forcing me to hurry to keep up with him. He led me to a nondescript door and unlocked it, stepping aside and gesturing for me to enter with a sweep of his arm.

"Oh, gentleman." I laughed, stepping past him. The kroot gave a pleased warble and fell in behind me.

Korrok's quarters looked like something halfway between a proto-terran neanderthal's cave and a butcher's meat-locker, but that at least I'd been prepared for. The burnished, functional metalwork the room had been built from had been smothered under thick furs and leather drapes. Fetishes and dream-catchers built from carved bones and loops of hair hung from the ceiling alongside haunches of meat. Most of these had been frozen or salted, but a few - most of which I suspected were Orkish in origin - still dripped ominously. Korrok ushered me over to a low table, barely a foot in height, that had been set up next to an artificial fire and surrounded by thick fur rugs. He clicked and chirped to himself as I sat and made myself comfortable, lighting a series of candles that filled the room with a warm, comforting glow and the smell of tallow.

"I don't recall Maximillia bringing you along to hunt Orks before." I remarked, toying with what looked like a set of beautifully scrimshawed windchimes. "But you brought that big one down easily. I know men with a decade of experience fighting Freebooters couldn't have done it better."

"Pech has many." Korrok replied, though his quills flared pridefully at the compliment. "Greenskins come, long ago, long before Korrok. We fight, yes? Kill them all, but they always return, breed deep in jungle. Kindreds hunt before leaving home. Good sport, good practice."

"You're talking about the War of Unification?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought the Tau had to bail you out of that one."

Korrok laughed, the sound strangely whistling and birdlike. "Perhaps honored Tau-friends help, just a little."

He returned with a pair of small earthenware cups, tossing one to me and flinging himself down upon the thickly cushioned floor as I uncorked the bottle. "Korrok has little patience for Tau-friends though." He said, languidly stretching himself out before me. I took a second to compose myself, opening the bottle and pouring us each a generous measure. Even at rest, there was a ferocious, physical intensity to him that stole my breath away, as if he might pounce at a moment's notice. "They say to kindreds, no, you must not feast, you must be civilized, you must be like Vespid and embrace Tau'va wholeheartedly. They ask us to give up who we are."

"Well, you know the saying." I said. "The Greater Good's all fine and dandy, but - "

"But Korrok thinks, mmn, some Good greater than others?" The Kroot replied, cackling viciously. I joined him, sniggering into my wine and feeling some of the apprehension washing out of me. Korrok lifted his own cup, swirling the rich, red-black wine and regarding me over the rim for a moment, curiosity and amusement alike glittering in his dark eyes. With a sudden, sharp moment, he tipped his head back and swallowed the contents in one gulp. "Wait here. Korrok will bring something to feast upon."

Just as soon as my nerves had settled, I felt myself growing uneasy again. Kroot were well-known for their vicious, predatory appetites. While I had no fear of Korrok suddenly deciding to eat me, what he felt would be an appropriate meal to share might very well differ from what I would choose. Well, I thought, swallowing the last of my wine and pouring myself another, I've come this far. He's polite, amusing, and as much as the ship's preacher might froth at the mouth if he found out, certainly attractive. What's a little badly-cooked meat between friends?

With a heavy, meaty thud, Korrok dropped an Ork head on the table.

Whisps of cold smoldered from the frozen trophy. Tiny crystals of frozen blood speckled its warty green skin like tiny rubies. The creature's dull, dead eyes stared blankly at me, its slack, lantern jaw transfixed forever in an expression of stunned idiocy.

Which wasn't all that different from the expression on my own face. Worse, it wasn't just any Ork. It was an Ork that I recognised.

"That's the bastard that had my arm off!" I cried, jabbing one of my new, mechanical fingers at it for emphasis. Korrok nodded enthusiastically. He produced a small cleaver and cracked the top of the severed head open as if it were an egg, then jabbed a pair of crude spoons into the small amount of frozen brain tissue within.

"Kindred eat slain foes." Korrok said. "Take power, grow strong. Is ritual, very sacred. You join, I hope, yes?"

He selected one of the spoons and dug out a generous pile of the icy grey matter, shoveling it enthusiastically down his beak, then gestured for me to do the same. I began reaching for the other spoon, then faltered, unable to tear my eyes away from the Greenskin's slack, dead face. Flickering shadows danced across it, thrown by dancing candleflames. Rivulets of blood began to pool on the table around the ragged stump as the ice melted. My stomach churned, and I felt bile creeping to the edge of my throat. I could smell it, now, the scent beginning to permeate the room as the severed head defrosted before me. Bitter and fungal, like a slaughterhouse overgrown with thick, damp mold.

Korrok watched, his quills flexing in silent expectation. I glanced up at him, meeting the alien's still, intense gaze. There was no criticism in his eyes, no condemnation of my hesitance; just a quiet curiosity. And, perhaps, a deeper hunger that set my heart racing.

I craned forwards, peering into the Ork's brainpan. There wasn't all that much there. Korrok matched me, looming over the table like the graven idol of some ferocious, feral deity.  His muscles tensed and flexed, the subtle play of movement across his lithe, powerful body threatening to tear my attention from the trophy between us just as his citrus-sharp scent fought against the cloying stink of dead Ork.

Bone trinkets clicked and rattled against one another in the tense silence. Just a little, I thought. Just a little.

Fighting to keep my hand from shaking, I reached out and took the spoon. The pulpy flesh put up little resistance as I dragged it towards me, collapsing like dense foam as the utensil sliced through it. Gobs of it fell back into the Greenskin's skull as I lifted it clear. Korrok cocked his head as I parted my lips, his quills shuddering and rattling against one another like a sheath of dry reeds.

The rich, foul taste of old, fatty bacon and bitter mushrooms filled my mouth, and I had to fight down the urge to gag. It had almost no substance, and at the slightest pressure dissolved into greasy, grainy slime that slithered around my mouth, as if it sought to taint every inch of my palette before being swallowed. I choked and slapped my metal hand over my mouth, pursing my lips as I fought the loathesome stuff down.

The Kroot remained unmoving. With a shudder, I reached the spoon out towards the Greenskin's brainpan a second time.

Finally, Korrok burst out laughing, his peals of whistling laughter breaking the silent tension in the room. He playfully knocked the spoon out of my hand and clacked his beak in amusement, snatching up the bottle of wine and waving it triumphantly.

"Good, good!" He hooted, "You do much, much better than Kindred-leader Hohlstein. Korrok offer her sweetbreads from Eldar, yes? Very rare, but she say, no, will not partake." He clicked and shook his head sadly. "But you? You show willing! Ork brains, and you go for seconds, even!"

I didn't know whether I wanted to burst out laughing myself, or slap the alien right across his beak. He'd dropped an Ork head in front of me and asked me to chow down on a spoonful of brains as some sort of test? Or was it just a joke, or a game? I would have been angry, but then again - despite our similarities, Korrok was still an alien. I couldn't expect his sense of humour to match mine. A low snigger choked its way out of my throat, and before I knew it I began laughing along with him, hard enough to make my ribs hurt.

"Throne, how do you eat that stuff?" I forced the words out between spasms of laughter, grabbing at the bottle Korrok waved tantalizingly above my head. "I ate some foul things back in the 'hive, but that beats them all by about a hundred kloms!"

"Is not that bad. Korrok thinks, mm, he will make proper Kindred-sister of you yet!" I lept upwards, trying to snatch the wine away from Korrok and wash down the last traces of the loathsome muck that tainted my mouth and just about wrapped my fingers around the glass bottle when the Kroot let go. It teetered for a moment, hanging in space my an invisible thread, before tipping and tumbling down upon me. Korrok let out a sharp squawk of alarm and I cried out in surprise, raising my artificial hand to ward off the falling bottle, but it was too late. The wine splashed over me in a great purple-black arc, covering my neck and my chest and quickly soaking into my vest.

Perhaps it was simply the effect of my earlier drinks tainting my judgement, or perhaps part of me wished to see if my body would elicit the same fascination in Korrok that his did in me. But as the Krook leapt up and fetched me something to wipe myself down with, chattering apologies all the way, I peeled off the sodden garment and tossed it aside.  The heat from the artificial fire prickled on my bare skin, and beads of wine clung to my dark skin in streaks, dripping from my breasts and winding their way across the tight muscles of my stomach.

I had to do my best not to smile slyly at Korrok's expression when he turned back around, a length of clean fur in his hand. His quills puffed out briefly in surprise before settling back down again.

"Korrok may have, ah, something you can wear..." He started, but I cut him off.

"It's fine." I said lightly, holding out a hand for the rag. "I'm not cold. Besides, you're hardly overdressed either."

The Kroot tossed me the length of fur and dropped himself down next to me, looking himself over as he did so. "Kindred do not...we wear skin and hide for decoration or camouflage, that is all. Kindred do not need to conceal from one another like humans do."

I gave a little shudder of pleasure as Korrok's body brushed up against mine. His skin was rough, not so much that it was uncomfortable, but enough to provide a constant, teasing friction against my bare arm, like a constant reminder of his exotic, alien physiology. I squirmed in place, feeling my breasts growing warm and sensitive as my body flushed with arousal. My back arched a little as I toweled myself off with the length of fur, pushing my chest out and making a show of rubbing the soft, silken material over my body, each pass drawing a thin gasp as it rubbed over my stiff, tender nipples. Silently, I cursed the incompatibility of our bodies, need building inside me. What had begun as an idle fascination with the Kroot's lean, ferocious form had flared into something much more potent. I'd had partners among the crew, of course, but none for what felt like a long time, and the difference between our ranks often made them frustratingly meek. I wanted - I wished - for something more, something raw and physical, to counteract the aching, hollow yearning that was building inside me.

Korrok stirred and sniffed the air. Kroot can smell pheromones, I thought distantly, and I must be reeking of sex right now. Brief fantasies flickered through my mind, about the thickness of his fingers, about whether or not he could be persuaded to use them in leiu of the organ his species lacked, when something caught my eye. Korrok shifted his position, moving one of his legs as if it hide something, but I saw it again - a brief flash of pink...

Without thinking - the wine, I tell myself again - I reached over, taking hold of one of the alien's spiny knees and pulling his leg aside. He clacked and whistled as if in protest, but made no effort to fight me. My heart raced and my breath caught in my throat, a surge of sudden heat pulsing out through my body at the sight. There, lying against his belly and glistening in the madly flickering candlelight, was a thick, human cock.

I stared at the organ as if mesmerized. It was only partially human in appearance - more swollen at the base, and studded with small, fleshy polyps that reminded me of the diminutive quills that decorated the Kroot's joints. My fingers twitched, and my tongue flicked over my lips. Korrok made no attempt to hide his erection now that it had been revealed. If anything, he seemed to relax a little, letting his long, athletic body stretch lazily out before me like a banquet set for a starving woman.

"Korrok, that's..." I fumbled over the words, unable to believe what I was seeing. "Kroot don't - I mean, I no xenophysician, but I know enough about Kroot biology..."

"Korrok's Shaper died soon after leaving Pech." The alien replied. His chest rose and fell, the slow, steady flex of his lithe muscles doing little to calm the arousal singing through my body. His cock twitched, a long, clear string of precome oozing from the tip and collecting on his pale belly. "Kroot change, take traits of those they eat. Shaper can...taste, guide, ensure best traits. You know this, yes?"

I nodded dreamily, shuffling a little closer and absent-mindedly running a hand over his wiry thigh, my fingers gently moving their way over his rough skin, feeling him tense and relax under my touch. He leaned backwards, his eyes running over me with interest, quills rattling and shaking. My hand crept further around, fingers sweeping along the inside of his thigh. I glanced up, one corner of my mouth quirking into a small smile as I caught him staring at my breasts. The thought of having those thick, powerful fingers on them send a shudder of anticipation running up my spine, fueling the sparks of arousal kindling within me.

"No Shaper, no guidance. No guidance, Kindred change...unpredictable." Korrok concluded. His cock twitched gently, as if to underline his point. The Krook raised his great, beaked head, tearing his eyes away from my half-naked body as I leaned over him. Our faces were scant centimeters apart, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face, close enough that I could have kissed his beak with the slightest of movements.

Slowly, very slowly, my fingers traveled up the alien's hip and brushed against the swollen base of his cock. I twitched away almost immediately, some part of me afraid that the Kroot's beak would suddenly snap forwards and take my head off, but Korrok made no move of any kind. His eyes, glittering with dark, feral intensity, bored into me like a spear through the heart, just as they had over the Ork's severed head; not judging, but always watching, observing, thinking.

I reached out again, but this time, wrapped my fingers fully around the Kroot's thick length. The heat of it was incredible; it was far hotter than a human's prick, almost animalistic, and I could feel the alien's primal heartbeat thudding rapidly through the thin, veiny skin. Korrok let out a thin whistle and rustled his quills as my hand worked its way up his shaft, rubbing the soft nodules that studded his length with the pad of my thumb, before gliding back down and giving the base a gentle squeeze.

"You're being very quiet, Korrok" I murmured. This close, his scent was overwhelming. The sharpness was there, but it was undercut with something deeper and more potent; the scent of his own alien arousal, matching the pheremonal perfume that must be pouring from me in waves. I can feel my underwear starting to grow as moist as my wine-sodden vest was, the aching, needy heat between my thighs growing harder to ignore. "What are you thinking? You ever used this before?"

I stroked him again, giving the end of his prick a small, playful tug to underline my words. He was hard, so hard it must have been painful, and the head of his cock trembled as if in desperate anticipation. The feeling of having a naked man, no matter his species, in such an obvious state of arousal before was intoxicating, and I had to fight the urge to grin like a lunatic.

"Once or twice. Kindred-changes not uniform." Korrok said. He squirmed in my grasp, and I felt a sticky trickle of precome on my fingers. "There were some Korrok could mate with, but...Korrok has not much experience."

That time, a smile did make its way over my face. That such a beautifully vicious, primal creature, an alien which could have pulled me limb from limb if he wanted, would be, what? Anxious? Sexually inexperienced? In my past, vague fantasies, when I'd discarded such a union as impossible outside my own head, I'd always dreamed of being taken in the most literal sense, run down and fucked by the powerful, long-limbed hunter. But now? Which one of us was supposed to be the predator?

"We can stop, if you'd like." I said, leisurely playing with the length of sensitive, alien flesh in my hands. My thumb found its way back to one of the fleshy protuberances that decorated his prick and began to idly rub it back and forth, teasing the little nodule. Korrok shook his head and let out a thin, high-pitched warble, his hips jerking upwards and his cock swelling until his head pushed past my stroking fingers, straining desperately for relief. His body glistened with sharp, pungent sweat, highlighting the contours of his wiry musculature in the dancing, flickering light as he fought for breath, his narrow chest heaving and filling the air with odd, whistling pants. It was beautiful - he was beautiful, stretched out and desperate, aching for the same relief I was.

I took him in both hands, the artificial one wrapped around the base of his cock while the other worked the shaft, masturbating the length of hot, throbbing meat with short, sharp motions. My head dipped lower until it was level with his organ, teasing it with my breath and the closeness of my lips. He won't have felt anything like them before, I thought suddenly, glancing up as Korrok clacked his beak. Words of warning sounded in the back of my head - he could be poisonous, he might take having my teeth near him as a threat - but they were weak, dim things, drowned out by the mad haze of arousal that had fallen over me. My trousers felt like a prison and my underwear was sticky with my own fluids, clinging to the pool of aching heat between my legs. I needed to be touched, filled, but I forced myself to wait, wallowing in the sweet torment I was unleashing upon my alien lover.

His leg kicked suddenly as my lips first brushed the against his cock, before engulfing the head as it pushed past my fingers. He was sharp, almost sour, and I sucked on him greedily, looking up the length of his long, tight body as I indulged myself. The Kroot's head was tipped backwards, his eyes closed and his quills shuddering, his thick fingers clasping tightly at the furs covering the floor as he jerked and kicked, trying to thrust himself further past my lips. I pulled back each time, giving his organ a couple of harder tugs or a small squeeze as punishment, all the while running my tongue over his thick, throbbing head and letting the taste of his pre fill my mouth.

When he came, he came suddenly and without warning; the first I knew of it was when the first jet of hot come filled my mouth, thick and pungent and sour. I yelped and pulled backwards as he climaxed, my hands still working his prick and painting his torso with long, pearlescent strings. Korrok threw his head back and let out a warbling groan, his dark eyes rolling badly in his head.

I released him, watching the Kroot as he recovered. My hand was sticky with his ejaculate, and I absent-mindedly lapped at the thick, sour fluid, feeling the odd drop of it splashing down onto my naked bust, white spots on dark flesh.

"You know that there's no way I'm going to be able to look Father Malicon in the eye the next time he starts talking about us having our heads filled with alien filth, right?" I remarked.

Korrok leaned over and playfully jabbed one of his claws into my chest. "Korrok thinks you spent little enough time at his sermons anyway." He said, trying to brush away the mess of ejaculate clinging to his chest. "He also thinks you needed very little encouragement from Korrok to be filled with his 'alien filth' in the first place."

"Technically speaking, I still haven't." I countered, giving the Kroot a sly grin. My eyes flicked down to the alien's member. It had softened a little and lay against his thigh, wet and shiny with my saliva and his precome, but had yet to retract back into his body. I reached over and ran my finger down his length, grinning a little as it twitched in response. Apparently he had better stamina than most men.

Korrok caught ahold of my arm and pulled it upwards, twisting it behind my head and forcing me to lean backwards. For a moment I felt my heart stop and a bolt of cold fear slam through my mind as the Kroot loomed over me, his huge, bone-cracking beak inches away from my nose. My eyes flicked downwards as I felt his other hand on my belly, his thick, clawed fingers probing around the top of my fatigue trousers.

"Is Seneschal Linza saying she wishes to be mated?" Korrok croaked. Mated. The word send a shiver down my spine. Mated. It was such a primal, atavistic term, free from the rituals and conventions humanity so often forced upon the nature of sex. My back arched towards the Kroot, a soft cry escaping my mouth as my stiff, sensitive nipples grazed his sweat-slick torso, even that light touch sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. The button of my fatigues popped open under the Kroot's prying fingers, and I felt the hard, sharp  points of his claws sliding beneath the rim of my panties, pricking against my soft flesh. The Kroot's eyes were narrowed, burning with the focused, laser-like intensity of a predator poised to strike, but I could see a glimmer of amusement swimming within his black, unblinking stare.

This is the difference between him and Garrex, I thought. The violence that had seethed beneath the human hunter's eyes had been vicious and barely controlled, tainting his moods, making him cruel and unpredictable. But Korrok? The Kroot wielded his ferocity like a blade, tempering it with patience and humour, his control over it as tight as his grip around my wrist.

"Throne of bloody Terra, I thought you'd never ask." I hissed through clenched teeth, pushing myself against him, feeling his muscles tensing as our bodies slid over one another. "I was afraid I was going to have to take the lead all night."

He pushed me further, lowering me inexorably to the ground, crushing me between his weight and the soft furs that lined the floor. I could feel the hard outline of his cock pressing through my fatigues against my thigh, and let out a sharp gasp as his knuckle brushed against my folds, the thin, damp material of my underwear lending no protection against the alien's inquisitive probing. I was feverish with desire. Sweat kissed my brow as I ground my hips needily against his hand, twisting, trying to bring myself back into contact with his thick fingers.

"Was taken off-guard by your advances." Korrok said. My spare arm wrapped around him, black, metal fingers playing over his back, tracing the shapes of his knobbled spine. "But Kindred adapt quickly. Especially when prey is so very willing."

Korrok's satisfied expression vanished as a soft rip cut through the air and I felt the tight, strangling grip of my fatigues loosening. His quills drooped apologetically, but I shook my head.

"No, no, keep going." I whispered eagerly. "Tear them off. Strip me, don't be gentle."

The ripping sound continued, the heat of the room lapping against the heat of my thighs as he tore out the seat of my fatigues, the touch of his balled fist grinding into my sensitive flesh sending a crushing wave of pleasure through my body. I urged him to continue with whispers and soft sounds, my mind singing with excitement as he gained in confidence, pulling away scraps of material like a feral beast. His claws pricked and scratched at my legs, the little sparks of pain melting into the sweet ecstasy that blossomed through me whenever our bodies shifted against one another or his hands grazed the flimsy fabric of my panties. My legs spread without conscious thought as the last of my fatigues came away,  as if to beckon him on, to encourage him to rip away the last frail barrier and claim me.

He clacked in amusement, his finger sliding under the narrow waistband of my underwear, easing it away from my hot skin until it stretched taught. I hissed encouragement, pushing my head up against his, my spare hand clutching at his dry, rattling quills as the elastic stretched, stretched, the moment dragging impossibly on like a climax long withheld by a teasing partner.

Snap.

There was a brief sting of pain as the two shorn halves whipped back, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of relief that came as the broken remains of my underwear were torn away and discarded. Korrok drew back a little and looked down, running his eyes over my bare, vulnerable body. I know that I'm fit - I'm in good shape, I know how to fight, but the alien's sheer, vicious atavism swept that away like the ruins of my clothes. There was nothing about him that did not radiate strength; from the strength of his grip, to the rough kiss of his skin, to the brutal curve of his beak and the tight bunches of muscles that layered his wiry chest. Unarmed and defenseless as I was, there was nothing I could do to prevent him doing whatever he wanted to me, regardless of whether or not he consented. And yet he waited, patiently, for my go-ahead.

Species be damned, I thought, as I shifted my free arm from Korrok's back and slid it between our bodies. I felt him there, hot and hard and throbbing, and wrapped my new, steely fingers around his prick, guiding him gently into position. Anette, you've got yourself a real catch here.

A sharp hiss of breath broke the expectant silence as his swollen head pushed against my lips. I held him there, my eyes closed and my teeth digging into my lips, savoring that moment of anticipation - that heat-on-heat, the heartbeat before the first penetration. Korrok was like a statue, one hand around my wrist, the other at my hip, giving me time, all the time I needed.

I released him and moved my hand to his backside, brushing over the vestigial tail-stump at the base of his spine, gently pressing my metal hand against his rear. Encouraging him to push forwards and enter me fully. The Kroot leaned in, resting his forehead against mine, our eyes locked as he gently eased himself forwards, his thick, alien cock sliding into my welcoming passage. He was large - not monstrously, painfully so, but enough that I felt myself stretch a little to admit him, my walls clinging tightly to the length of heat as it pushed them apart.

Xenophilia. To know the alien.

Such a sweet heresy.

"Korrok asks, is this - "

"Yes," I said, already knowing what he was about to ask. His predator's breath surrounded me, the scent of meat minging with the sharp tang of his sweat. The words came as a half-sigh, half pant as the last inch vanished into me. It ached a little then - he's wider at the base, I dizzily remember - but the discomfort was lost in the waves of warm pleasure I felt lapping through me. "Yes, this is good. Keep going."

There was a moment of absence, almost loss, as he withdrew. The Kroot's first thrust was deep and clumsy, betraying his lack of experience, but I didn't care. "Again," I hissed, leaning up and kissing his beak. "Harder. As hard as you can."

Korrok opened his beak to reply, his quills flexing, like a human raising their eyebrows in surprise. I pushed my head up further, grinding my body against his, until my lips were level with his ear-pits.

"Mate me." I whispered, my teeth bared like an animal. "Fuck. Me."

The Kroot pulled back, his head cocked questioningly. Then he made a strange noise, halfway between his odd, hooting laugh and a growl, roughly shoved me back down into the thick furs that covered the floor, and did just that.

He was fast. Aggressive. Still clumsy, his thrusts poorly paced and never quite seeming to hit the same depth twice in a row, but what Korrok lacked in practice he more than made up for with sheer, alien ferocity. I tried to hold my tongue for the first few heartbeats, biting down on my lip until I could taste blood for fear of some passer-by hearing me through the walls, but it was to no avail, and the third time the Kroot's prick slammed home I let out a long, throaty wail of release. One of his hands groped for my breast, his thick, rough fingers finding the small, pert mount and circling it, rubbing against the sensitive undersides and drawing a fresh cry of pleasure from me. Somehow, between two rapid breaths, I directed him to my nipple; he attacked it with the same gusto he was showing the rest of me, pinching and pulling the little bud until I let out a thin squeal of pain and pleasure.

It was maddening, overwhelming. I felt like I was drowning in him. His scent, his power, his sheer, feral masculinity; I writhed beneath him like a cat having its belly scratched, each wild thrust of his cock at once satisfying and feeding the hunger I'd nurtured for so long. Korrok's voice joined mine as I wrapped my legs around his waist, his avian screeches mixing with my own throaty cries and moans as I locked our bodies together, forcing him to thrust deeper into me. Our eyes met and I grinned; a wild, manic expression, lips peeled back bared teeth, primitive and atavistic. His skin scraped over the inside of my thighs, rubbing the dusky brown skin raw with every thrust, but I barely felt it; just as I knew he barely felt the handful of his quills I had grasped in my augmetic hand and tugged sharply upon whenever I needed to reign him in. I had him and he had me. Outside, the Eye of Terror could be bloating and bursting with all the powers of Chaos, and neither of us would have noticed.

But it couldn't last. Despite his alien stamina he was still too inexperienced to pace himself, and I could already feel my climax coming; it boiled inside me, seething beneath my skin, swelling like a bubble of hot pressure. Korrok's prick twitched inside me, swelling like it had before his first ejaculation. My legs tensed, muscles straining.

"Fuck me," I spat the word, releasing Korrok's quills and wrapping my arm around his neck, pulling the alien in tight against my body as I began to lose control. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, you beautiful fucking alien, just don't stop - "

My mind blanked as I came. The tide crested, the bubble burst; my body snapped and convulsed against the alien as he continued thrusting into me, crushing waves of sensation blasting all coherent thought from my overtaxed mind. It went on and on, as unrelenting in its intensity as Korrok himself was, a ceaseless wall of energy that wracked my body as I screamed and wailed my release into the Kroot's collarbone. Dimly, in the back of my mind, I felt the boiling length of alien meat give one final jerk and release its bounty into me; the sudden liquid pressure, the feeling of redoubled fullness, as Korrok flooded me with his inhuman seed.

Slowly, in drips and drops, sanity returned. It came, first, as a bone-deep ache. Every part of me hurt; my legs were peppered with cuts and scrapes from Korrok's claws and from the rough texture of his skin, my arm was cramped from being held in one place for so long, and my body ached from the relentless, animal pounding it had been subjected to. But with it, there was satiation. A deep, drowzy feeling, like having eaten a large, extremely well-prepared meal. Korrok rolled off me, flopping down into the furs in a tangle of long limbs.

"Korrok thinks that was..." He trailed off, clacking wordlessly.

"Good?" I ventured, glancing over at him with heavily lidded eyes.

"Not what he expected when Linza first approached him." The Kroot replied. "But, yes. Unusual. But good."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, staring at the tribal fetishes and salted haunches of meat that hung silently from the ceiling.

"You know, you ripped up most of my clothes." I said after a while. "And ruined the rest with that wine. How the hell am I supposed to get back to my quarters without being seen like, well - " I gestured at myself, flushed with sex and glistening with sweat, covered in minor cuts, scrapes and bruises. "This?"

Korrok hooted in amusement. "You asked Korrok to tear clothes, remember. Do not blame Korrok." He heaved himself upright, quills rattling against one another. I rolled onto my belly and propped my head up on my elbows, languidly eying the Kroot's naked body as he paced across the room. "Can call servitor. Have metal thing to bring them here, eh, somewhere."

There was a clatter of boxes as the Kroot dug through the detritus of his quarters, until he produced a basic dataslate and threw it to me. I tapped in a request for a domestic servitor, then tossed it aside, but I could feel there was a question hanging in the air.

"So, what now? Between us, I mean?" I ventured. Korrok shrugged.

"Kindred not fussy about such things. Do not pair-bond. Mate with one, mate with another, pass on good changes, as and when. Can feel affection though. Have favored mates."

I stretched, working the ache from my battered body. "Do you feel it now?"

He turned to look at me, head cocked, then shrugged again. "Maybe. You and Korrok, different kinds. Not kindred in flesh, but in spirit, perhaps. Korrok is willing to, how you say? See how things go?"

There was a moment of silence as I thought about what he'd said. Now that the moment had passed, I wasn't sure what I felt about Korrok. We had chemistry, I thought, but he was right. We were still different species, and there would always be barriers between us because of it. And frankly, even leaving such issues aside, given the amount of time I spent chasing after Maximillia I doubted I had time for any sort of proper relationship.

But he was an entertaining companion, and as I'd just discovered, a very satisfying lay. There were worse things than that.

"See how things go. Yea." I said. "Just...so long as I don't have to eat any more Ork brains, okay?"

Korrok laughed, the whistling, hooting noise reverberating from the walls of his chamber. "Korrok promises nothing!" He said.