Kira had fought humans before — savages clad in dusty green plates of primitive armor. Primitive, yet numerous beyond measure. The pathfinder struggled to believe that they had colonized so many systems, that a Tau could look to the night sky in any direction and know that some distant star or another was ruled by the Gue'la. They were a barbaric yet simple race when it came to battle. Warfare was conventional, straightforward and dare Kira admit it, honorable at times; these things were not human.
***
The blackness of Kira’s cell was oppressive. A cool shiver ran down the length of battered woman’s spine as her undignified form had been stripped of her battle-plate in favor of her damaged wetsuit. A messy platinum bob clung to her face in sweat-soaked tufta and may have been a hinderance were it not so damned dark in the first place. During the ambush, Kira’s swift, slitted lips had been pummeled swollen, battered into a collection of plump bruised that turned her soft azure flesh a ripened purple. If the distant screams of her allies were indication, the fire warrior had received the lightest of the abuse; she did not know that her kin could make such terrible sounds. Their captors were anything but the typical humans that the Tau had grown overly confident in facing. These were a different sort entirely and Kira was only beginning to imagine the depth of their depravity; she was pregnant with fear.
“What a sweet aroma. Familiar yet exotic.” It was in the cell with her, this disembodied jester. By the inflection of its voice she could tell that it was smiling. The words rattled with a static distortion not so different from the communications devices commonly utilized by her previous human opponents. Unlike the humans Kira had faced before, this one spoke in a booming cant devoid of conviction or pride; it was sadistic, mocking.
“While our vessel may not be to your standards, we our proud to embrace this cultural exchange; the Corpse-Emperor’s slaves were becoming quite boring to play with.”
Kira made no attempt at a reply. Her swollen lips were pursed tight, eyes narrowed to a squint in an act of defiance against her unseen tormentor. She knew it sensed her contempt because it laughed — a bassy chuckle that rung off the steel walls until she felt that perhaps it might drive her mad.
There was a buzzing then, something sharp that pressed against her cheek and bit into the tender blue flesh. “I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Krekit and I am a Night Lord. A title that has no meaning to you now but will in due time. Very soon.” The blade pricked again, tracing along her jawline until Kira winced.
She hated herself for it.
A finger followed after and traced the path that the knife had taken, prodding softly at her desecrated skin. The digit was cold like steel. Was it a finger at all? Such size was impossible to the humans of her recollection. When it reached her chin it tilted her head back gently, forcing Kira to look into the two pinpricks of buzzing yellow that stared back from the shadows.
He could see into her, this Krekit. Preysight allowed the Night Lord to see beyond the darkness, draping the world in a hazy glow of oceanic blue interrupted by the thermal flares of all distinguishable heat sources. Kira was a white-hot flame. A supple thing of alien flesh and bone to be toyed with endlessly. These creatures were porcelain dolls compared to a legionary. Their bowed legs, ending in pastoral, cloven hooves, snapped like fibrous glass. Bones less dense than the base human provided for inferior skeletons; easy to break without the need for proper tools. Krekit had learned of their fragility with the first of his harvests, too eager in his punishments to properly test the limits of their anatomy. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
Another finger traced the Y-shaped fold of membranous flesh that created Kira’s forehead. It traveled downward to the bridge of her noseless face and lingered there, tapping idly in thought. Kira winced at the grazing touch, obviously perturbed by the gentlest of intrusions upon the sensory organ’s periphery. “What do we have here?” He inquired rhetorically, voice bubbling over with a mirth that set Kira on edge. His index pressed firmly upon the bridge until tears began to well in her large oval eyes.
“P-Please…” Her voice was meek, pitifully spoken between gasps of air that whistled through her flat nostrils. Krekit paused at the noise, genuinely surprised that his quarry had found the will to speak; most curious, the sensitive of this inhuman feature.
“Curious things, your people. Ambushing you didn’t take much effort but the fruits of our labor have been quite plentiful. Tell me, how does this feel?”
He wouldn’t dare. Of course the bastard would do as he pleased, yet Kira could hardly process the impending violation. Amongst her kin, defiling the sensitive folds of one's most sensitive brow-flesh was a grievous taboo amongst all caste. By the Greater Good, did this bastard have no — .
The digit pressed, except it was not pain that blossomed at the center of her skull, rather an unforeseen euphoria. Pleasure coursed through the fire warrior like a river of magma, scorching her veins until sweat began to pool across the surface of her skin. Kira twitched, her thighs rubbing together uncomfortably as the sensation crept lower, settling in her abdomen. She gasped, saliva foaming around her lips as the pressure grew within her skull, swelling until the damn nearly broke. By the blessings of the Ethereals was she able to reign in the animalistic urge to debase herself before this monster. Instead she grit her teeth and endured, biting back the tide until Krekit relented; his finger withdrew, leaving Kira panting heavily like some rutting beast.
“Interesting. I suppose our species are not so different; you reek of lust.” There was a bitter confusion in his words. For Krekit, adolescence had given way to transhumanhood. There was nothing natural about the space marine’s physiology. He had been a tool of galactic conquest in a time that predated the Tau entirely. Krekit was never a mortal man. Love and longing had no place in the Great Crusade and its subsequent heresy, and as such, the subtleties of sex were peculiarities he would never understand. At least not wholly. Genehanced flesh twitched with youthful curiosity. “Forgive me, I have been overzealous. You must not have encountered one of us before; do I frighten you?”
Of course it did. This thing could not possibly have been a man. Perhaps acknowledging that possibility was more harrowing than anything else she’d experienced during this gruesome ordeal. It was a cold, terrible implication. To what ends had the Gue'la twisted themselves into these monstrosities? Yet despite this, the creature in the darkness had stirred something within her alien flesh. Something primal — instinctual — that Kira had never considered possible. She loathed it; every fiber of her being ached to deny these strange desires. Still, her thighs continued to rub together anxiously, betraying her true intentions. Krekit was right.
In spite of herself, Kira nodded.
To any son of the XIIIth legion, fear was a finer wine than victory. A nectar that needed to be coaxed from the source, tasted upon the tongue lest they become spoiled with arrogance. Krekit had grown fat with the terror of mankind, gorged himself on their pleas and cries until the novelty began to dwindle. Now, however, this xenos creature had presented a new opportunity.
His fingers returned, two played digits that curled beneath Kira’s rounded chin to tilt her head upward. They were gentle, softer than any touch she had ever received, and surprisingly warm for metal. Certainly more tender than the blow that left her face a swollen mess; it confused her. What cruel irony to be treated so delicately in the hands of this demon? How could such a brute possess this manner of control?
Kira couldn’t resist it. She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply as those same digits trailed lower, tracing the outline of her throat to settle upon the collar of her wetsuit. Even without applying pressure, the weight of Krekit's heavy, gauntleted hand upon her collarbone set the pathfinder's heart aflame. Preysight laid bare her sin, providing Krekit with a unique perspective of the Tau's anatomy. The flow of Kira's sanguine essence burned into his retinal display in a spiderweb of thermal traffic. Krekit listened to staccato’d beat of her heart, watched as her sex pulsed with want. What a curious organism, these Tau. His gaze settled upon her brow and the strange slit that encompassed it. So much activity for such a small expanse of flesh. So many nerve endings.
Like a child prodding a dead animal, Krekit deflowered Kira’s membranous organ, pressing an enormous digit of ceramite into the accommodating cranial cavity.