[ The raid has carried on for three of the mon-keigh's days already—and, still, Aurelien remains in reserve upon the kabal's vessel. It's an arrangement that sorely tests his patience; as the young Klaivex of the Shrine of the Umbral Lash, he has grown accustomed to having his pick of prey.
On the fourth day, he finds his salvation: the appearance of a new mon-keigh vessel within the system, its course set to intercept and reinforce the planet's bleeding defenses below. It would be a simple matter to slip past the voidship's sensors and send the vessel to an early grave; as some Kabalite barks the beginnings of an order, however, Aurelien interrupts. ]
Prepare to board, [ he says, his clear voice cutting as clean as his blade through the Kabalite's words. ] I will handle these interlopers myself.
[ As Aurelien expects, boarding is a simple matter. Their feet are already on the voidship's deck by the time the mon-keigh realize what has happened. That first wave of resistance that meets them is token; the Incubi slaughter them to the man and move on, the obstacle hardly enough to slow their movement.
It isn't until they near the voidship's bridge that they encounter opposition worthy of anything more than a swift death. Such is the design of an Imperial ship that a long corridor leads to its command center; as their destination comes into view ahead of them, something fast and piercing whistles down the hall. Aurelien avoids it with a graceful sidestep, and behind him, he hears a sharp curse as one Incubus's leg buckles, a neat hole a little thicker than his thumb crippling his knee. ]
Do not humiliate me, you sluggard, [ he snaps, voice caustic. But his gaze remains ahead, analyzing the battlefield placed before them. Smart, to aim to cripple; Drukhari are far more adroit than a feeble mon-keigh body is capable of matching, so the only hope these wretches have for survival is to hobble their movement.
No matter. Aurelien leaps, turning the corridor's wall into his pathway. A step along its metal, and then he sails airborne again, ricocheting from one wall to the other with a fluid kick of his heels. ]
[Claude allows himself a brief moment of satisfaction as he watches the Drukhari soldier buckle and fall. His finger tenses over the trigger as he aims his rifle at the crippled soldier's companion, his breath slow and steady as he follows his movements through his scope.
He prepares his shot--
--the bullet misses, ricocheting off the wall where the Drukhari's leg had been a moment earlier. Claude glances up from the scope, cursing under his breath as he watches his target begins leaping from wall to wall, too quick and erratic for him to hope for a decent opening.]
Incubus incoming!
[He shouts back to the other remaining fighters- the select few who dug in for their final defense of the bridge. If the bridge falls, it's all over; they all know how Drukhari raids end.
Falling back behind the line of imperial soldiers, Claude finds a spot to perch himself. He raises his rifle, desperately trying to empty his mind as he watches and waits for a new opening.]
[ He hears a shout from the bridge, and beneath his horned helmet, his face twists into a grin. Whatever mon-keigh have gathered here to make their final stand, they are no more immune to terror than their brethren. Aurelien can feel their fear ripple through the air that separates them, and as he springs again from the wall with his next step, his tongue licks across his teeth.
This time, his leap doesn't carry him to the wall opposite. He lands again on corridor's floor, sinking low in a graceful crouch. He tries to peer forward, through the barricade, through the throng of bodies as the mon-keigh fall into position—but as a number of them seize the chance he has seemingly presented them, he knows by instinct the first gunman is not among the volley of las and bolter fire that greets him. No matter, he thinks again—and, quick as a bullet, he spins the demi-klaive in his hands, deflecting the mon-keigh gunfire before it can so much as scuff his armor. ]
Clever mon-keigh... You only had one chance, and you've missed it. [ Aurelien makes sure of that as he leaps again—this time, not in a predictable track toward the walls, but simply up-and-over. The sound of his laughter fills the air as he twirls forward in an elegant flip, landing atop the first rung of their assembled barricade with his demi-klaive positioned to intercept another shot. ] Now these people are all going to die because you were too slow.
[ Aurelien tastes another wave of despair, and casually rolls behind the protection of the mon-keigh's own barricade to shield himself from another volley of gunfire. Still, as he inhales deep, he is searching for the scent of a different kind of suffering: guilt. ]
[Ordinarily, Claude wouldn't pay mind to an enemy's taunts- it was a cheap trick that only worked on weak-minded fools. But that voice. He could never forget that voice.
Anger burned hot in his chest, his jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. The Drukhari might have hoped to track him down through the stench of guilt, but the result was similar; Claude squeezed the trigger, firing off a shot that whizzed by just short of the Incubus' left pauldron.
Frustrated by the miss, he scrambled to reload his rifle, refusing to take his eyes off the Drukhari for more than a second at a time. If these people died, then he would die along with them. Every man and woman present on this ship knew the risks involved.
They didn't all know about one noble passenger's past involvement with a young Drukhari, however. Claude's guts roiled as he tried to decide if Aurelien was referring to the shot he'd just missed in the corridor, or to their meeting as children.]
Aurelien pounces. He vaults across the barricade, and as he lands a mere step from the first line of gunmen, his demi-klaive separates their hands from their bodies before even one manages to pull the trigger. With a shift of his hand, the momentum from his first strike carries through into a second; the edge of his blade slices through bellies' soft flesh, gutting the unfortunates.
His attack seems to serve as a signal—to the mon-keigh and his own retinue alike. Abruptly, there is shooting, and the whistling of klaives through the air, and pain; Aurelien inhales deep, savoring the suffering of the mon-keigh bleeding to their slow-but-inevitable deaths at his feet. As quickly as he had rendered them to pieces, though, he forgets them; his gaze swings toward the man he had been seeking—and as he lays eyes on him at last, time feels as though it stands still.
The last time Aurelien had seen that face, it had been that of a child. Of course, he had been no more than a callow youth, himself—yet to complete his initiation as an Incubus, and abandoned to the predations of She-Who-Thirsts in realspace as a cruel test of the Shrine of the Umbral Lash. Still, despite the distance of the memory, despite the ways that a human's face warps and changes with age, there is no doubt in Aurelien's mind as to the identity of the man who stands before him.
At the time, Claude's... assistance had been an embarrassing secret in Aurelien's mind—one that would surely have seen him expelled from the Shrine of the Umbral Lash, had it been discovered, if not something much worse. Seeing him now, though, something like elation floods his veins. His senses swim with it, and his mouth waters. To meet again, by chance—
It feels like destiny.
The sounds and tastes of battle fade from his thoughts as he leaps for Claude's position. His target isn't the space in front of Claude, though, where he might intercept his rifle; it is behind him, where Aurelien can force his face to the floor of the deck below. ]
[And, just like that, the final battle for the void ship began.
Claude tracked Aurelien with his scope, narrowing his eyes as the incubus paused for a moment after gutting a few of the frontline soldiers. He readied his shot, this time aiming right for his skull--
Then the incubus turned. His helmet covered his face entirely, but Claude was certain could still feel the man's gaze, piercing straight into his soul. His breath shuddered, his hands trembling just enough to ruin his aim. By the Emperor's Light, he was going to run out of opportunities if he didn't focus!
Claude blinked, breathing. When he glanced back through his scope, Aurelien had vanished.]
No, no... [He muttered under his breath, lifting his head and lowering his rifle. Until he found his target, he needed to find new cover. Claude ducked his head safely behind the divider he'd chosen to crouch behind, preparing to hurry off across the room to a new spot with a clearer view of the battle.]
[ Claude can try to flee, but in the end, a mere mortal cannot match a Drukhari for speed and reflexes. Claude won't hear Aurelien's descent, but he can certainly feel it in the sudden rush of disturbed air behind his back as the Incubus lands with catlike silence. ]
Caught you.
[ The words are a purr—playful, almost, as long fingers and a broad palm wrap themselves around the curve of Claude's skull. Aurelien giggles, ecstatic, as he seizes Claude by his thick head of hair—and as if he were the weight of a mere feather, Aurelien swings him in his grip, drawing his arm back until Claude's toes have left the deck beneath him.
Claude doesn't have to endure long like that, the weight of his body suspended by nothing more than a handful of his hair. The moment lasts only as long as it takes for him to realize what has happened to him—and then he is rushing down again, the scenery around him blurring as the ground surges up to greet him. Metal slams hard against his ribs, his face, as Aurelien pins him to the floor below; the Drukhari's oppressive presence looms over him, Aurelien's knees pressing into the deck astride his form. ]
Do you remember me, Claude? [ His voice is nearly breathless with pleasure. One clawed gauntlet strokes along Claude's body, over his clothes—as though Aurelien were examining a cut of meat. ] Finally, I'll be able to repay you for all the kindness you showed me!
[Claude felt something tickle the back of his neck. However; before he could even consider that an enemy was preparing to attack at such close proximity, he heard that same, familiar voice directly behind him.
That was all he could process before a fierce pain engulfed his skull, his feet no longer on the floor. And then--
--he was slammed into the metal floor with a loud thud, his rifle skittering across the floor in the opposite direction.
Dazed, Claude could do little more than twitch as the Drukhari pinned him against the cold metal, his weight bearing down on his back, solid and uncompromising. When he finally had enough sense of mind to resist, his body screamed its objection, his ribs aching sharply with every breath, his face on fire, multiple bones either fractured or broken.
Then the Drukhari spoke to him again. Between panting breaths, he could make out how positively gleeful the man sounded, his wandering touch offering a second warning.
But it wasn't the possibility of death that made him shiver with fright- it was that promise, delivered with such a loud, cheerful laugh. Every human knew that death was preferable to being captured by Drukhari. The Drukhari in particular having a specific interest in him couldn't be an improvement.]
Wh-what are you- [His ribs ached fiercely as he spoke, the burning pain only worsening as he tried to buck Aurelien off his back.]
[ Claude may as well be a newborn pup for as much as his struggling disturbs Aurelien's grip. The dagger-like points of clawed gloves bite into Claude's scalp with every attempt to buck Aurelien free; blood trickles down the curve of his skull, over the back of his neck, hot where it soaks into his dark hair. ]
No...?
[ With deliberate slowness, Aurelien's head inclines, the Incubus making a show of his contemplation. Then, he exclaims: Ah!—a theatrical, exaggerated pantomime of epiphany. ]
Of course—you need something to jog your feeble mon-keigh memory.
[ Aurelien's weight falls atop Claude where he straddles him—surprisingly heavy, given the lithe frame of a Drukhari. As Aurelien rises to sit upright over Claude, he tugs the helmet of his power armor free, pale hair spilling loose around his shoulders as he bares his face to the fallen noble beneath him. ]
That is better, [ he sighs, rapturous, as he casts his helmet aside. He spares not a glance for where it falls, the sound of its metal scraping along the floor of the deck lost in the sounds of combat that rage around them still. ] Look upon me properly, little pet, and recall my face.
[ Aurelien is no more gentle as he turns Claude over onto his back. Those metal claws bite into the line of Claude's jaws as Aurelien holds his gaze to his own, a smile of delight beaming on his pale face. ]
[ Amidst the cacophony of the battle sounding throughout the deck and the throbbing pain of fractured bones and stinging cuts, Claude could just barely make out what Aurelien was doing. The Drukhari's heavy helmet clunked loudly as he tossed it aside; Claude's breath caught as he realized he would once more see the face of that child, now fully grown, from all those years ago.
Under any other circumstances, he would be pleased by such a chance meeting. Now, he dreaded seeing those golden eyes again. Undoubtedly, they would be the last thing he ever saw, aside from his own blood.
Claude tried to brace himself before Aurelien flipped him onto his back, but there was time for no more than a deep, shuddering breath. He clenched his teeth hard as he landed on his back- now, Aurelien would be able to see his broken nose, bruised cheek, and mess of blood that had flowed down his lips and chin. When green eyes met gold, Aurelien would be met with a stare of pain and profound regret, with angering still simmering just beneath it.
He was so fixated on the face he remembered, so beautiful in adulthood, that he barely winced as the claws of Aurelien's gauntlet dug small cuts into his jaw.]
What are you waiting for? [He sneered, trying to suppress old emotions. It didn't matter how he felt about this particular Drukhari- as he knew well, the best he could hope for was a quick death while he was still on the imperial ship. Claude certainly didn't want to die, but he knew when hope was lost. They all knew.]
Whoever you are... you aren't the quiet, fearful boy I met back then. Not at all.
[ Claude's anguish soaks Aurelien's every sense. He can see it swimming in the deep green of his tortured gaze, smell it in the streaking crimson that drips from his chin and stains his collar, taste it in the suffering that stains pristine air between them. His lips part, drinking down the invisible nectar of mortal pain—and yet, the more he slakes his Thirst upon Claude's suffering, the deeper his hunger grows. It fill his body, hot, until Aurelien's golden gaze darkens with a terrible lust where his face looms above. ]
You are a fool, [ he laughs at Claude's attempt to deny him—breathless, aroused. As punishment, the back of Aurelien's gauntlet strikes Claude's face, swift and sharp—but the blow seems distracted, somehow. ] I am what I was always meant to be.
[ His fear had been an imperfection, and those days in realspace had purged him of it. There will be time for the two of them to catch up later, though—assuming, of course, that Claude doesn't break before Aurelien has finished with him. Again, Aurelien's fingers wander to his armor; this time, the unhook the protective codpiece that fastens over his groin. Aurelien grunts with quiet relief as his cock swings free of constricting metal—larger by far than a human man's, and swelling still heavier with his lust.
It's far from the first time he has relieved his battle-lust with the body of an unfortunate human, but rarely have those humans been anything more to him than a convenient hole. This feels... different. Special. His cock twitches, already dripping with his excitement, as Aurelien presses his gauntlets beneath the heavy brocade of Claude's Imperial dress and shreds the cloth from his skin. ]
[Claude cried out as his head snapped to the side, dazing him again as hard metal connected with his cheek. Aurelien was taking his time with him, but he was certain he would lose interest soon. Death was near- it was time to accept and embrace it. He fought as well as he could, but in the end, he simply wasn't strong enough.
...But the next blow never came.
His senses gradually returned, just in time for him to see Aurelien removing a piece of his armor. A very specific piece. Claude's eyes widened, a new terror filling his heart, replacing that sense of calm acceptance.]
No.... no no no. [Aurelien's cock was already straining, its size enhancing the dread threatening to overwhelm Claude's mind. He might be prepared to die, but he didn't want to die like that. Words stuck in his throat, he reached up a hand and pressed his palm flat against Aurelien's chest plate, fingers trembling.
He jolted when the Drukhari began shredding his own lighter armor, his entire body tense. None of the burning pain from his various injuries could force him to lie still, not when he now knew what Aurelien had planned for him.]
If that time... meant anything to you... don't do this. [He pleaded, searching for the 'humanity' he'd seen in those same golden eyes many years back.]
"Meant anything"? [ Again, he chuckles—this time, so quiet the sound is almost lost in the din that surrounds them. ] What a ridiculous notion.
[ And yet, Aurelien's heart pounds in his chest those light strips of armor come away from Claude's body. The despair emanating from Claude's body... Aurelien can find no other word for it but beautiful. The scent of it permeating the air draws Aurelien closer; again, the weight of his densely-muscled body smothers Claude beneath him, and he tastes the burn of those already-broken ribs in the anguish that soaks the space between them. ]
For us to see each other again... [ He sighs against Claude's mouth, his breath as hot as any man's. Doggedly, he shreds through cloth and armor with his claw-tipped hands; at last, his fingertips bite down into skin, Aurelien drawing a trail of bloody tracks from Claude's chest to his stomach. ] Such a meeting can mean only one thing.
[ Aurelien's huge, hard shaft rubs between Claude's thighs. With every desperate thrash of Claude's limbs, with every pathetic squirm of his frail little body, it rubs against him—as if it were a reminder to them both of the torment yet to come. Just the thought is enough to leave Aurelien so erect that he aches; finally, his fingers catch in the waist of Claude's trousers, tugging them downward with the impatience to match his half-delirious lust. ]
Struggle all you like. [ Those metal claws bite into the meat of Claude's thighs as he presses his legs back, exposing Claude's bare hole to the air. ] Your pain... Your suffering... They're delectable.
[ The monstrous head of Aurelien's cock presses to the rim of Claude's hole. Its tip leaks with his desire, plentiful and slick—but still far, far too little to ease the way as Aurelien forces himself inside, heedless of Claude's comfort. ]
Edited (decided to rearrange the dialogue) 2025-08-23 01:01 (UTC)
[ Claude let out a choked cry as Aurelien's heavy body pressed closer, forcing his broken ribs to compress, the sharp pain constricting his chest and making it harder to breathe. His eyes were clouded with the agony engulfing his face and chest with every harsh breath, and he hissed as those claws dragged down his now bare skin. He must have been an utter mess by then, covered in deep bruises and blood from his nose and Aurelien's claws, but the Drukhari clearly adored the sight before him.
Cutting through the pain, he heard some absurd musing about this unexpected reunion. He might have laughed if he didn't fear his ribs cutting into his lungs and unintentionally drowning him in his own blood.
Despite Aurelien's warning, or perhaps 'invitation', Claude couldn't fully control his reactions when he felt that massive cock, already fully erect and straining between his thighs. He tried to kick the Drukhari, to somehow flee from his cock, but he never stood a chance- even if he was uninjured, he could never hope to take down a Drukhari one-on-one.
Claude cried out again as Aurelien yanked down his trousers, his legs still flailing as he tried to kick him. The claws dug into his thighs, pressing them back, his resistance just as effective as a human challenging a space marine to an arm wrestling contest.
His head fell back against the metal floor with a low thud, the press of the Drukhari's enormous cockhead against his hole making his previous fear seem minor in comparison. He wasn't a virgin, far from it, but even Lorenz's sizable dick felt ordinary in comparison to the monster that tore into him. He screamed as it split him open, like he was being impaled with the sharp end of a dagger. Delirious with pain, he wondered if there would have been any difference.]
[ Claude's scream washes over him. The sound of it is electricity on his skin; in a cascade of silvery hair, Aurelien tosses back his head, and his lips part in an ecstatic grin.
Once, he might have paid some consideration to savoring the moment—but he can hear the frenetic sounds the surround them dying down, little-by-little, and he has no desire for their reunion to be interrupted. As though he barely feels the desperate kick of Claude's legs at all, he guides them wide by his hands' iron grip; the motion angles Claude's hips upward, and Aurelien forces himself deeper with a smooth thrust of his powerful hips. ]
That's right, my little pet—scream for me...
[ His voice oozes with his pleasure—with satisfaction, with affection. He wonders, does Claude realize? Does he understand that every moment since their first meeting—every breath, every step, every choice he has made—has been leading him to this moment? Blood trickles down his fingers. He pounds his cock deep, every rough, unrelenting thrust splitting Claude's insides around him until the pale flesh of his shaft is streaked with red, too. ]
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On the fourth day, he finds his salvation: the appearance of a new mon-keigh vessel within the system, its course set to intercept and reinforce the planet's bleeding defenses below. It would be a simple matter to slip past the voidship's sensors and send the vessel to an early grave; as some Kabalite barks the beginnings of an order, however, Aurelien interrupts. ]
Prepare to board, [ he says, his clear voice cutting as clean as his blade through the Kabalite's words. ] I will handle these interlopers myself.
[ As Aurelien expects, boarding is a simple matter. Their feet are already on the voidship's deck by the time the mon-keigh realize what has happened. That first wave of resistance that meets them is token; the Incubi slaughter them to the man and move on, the obstacle hardly enough to slow their movement.
It isn't until they near the voidship's bridge that they encounter opposition worthy of anything more than a swift death. Such is the design of an Imperial ship that a long corridor leads to its command center; as their destination comes into view ahead of them, something fast and piercing whistles down the hall. Aurelien avoids it with a graceful sidestep, and behind him, he hears a sharp curse as one Incubus's leg buckles, a neat hole a little thicker than his thumb crippling his knee. ]
Do not humiliate me, you sluggard, [ he snaps, voice caustic. But his gaze remains ahead, analyzing the battlefield placed before them. Smart, to aim to cripple; Drukhari are far more adroit than a feeble mon-keigh body is capable of matching, so the only hope these wretches have for survival is to hobble their movement.
No matter. Aurelien leaps, turning the corridor's wall into his pathway. A step along its metal, and then he sails airborne again, ricocheting from one wall to the other with a fluid kick of his heels. ]
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He prepares his shot--
--the bullet misses, ricocheting off the wall where the Drukhari's leg had been a moment earlier. Claude glances up from the scope, cursing under his breath as he watches his target begins leaping from wall to wall, too quick and erratic for him to hope for a decent opening.]
Incubus incoming!
[He shouts back to the other remaining fighters- the select few who dug in for their final defense of the bridge. If the bridge falls, it's all over; they all know how Drukhari raids end.
Falling back behind the line of imperial soldiers, Claude finds a spot to perch himself. He raises his rifle, desperately trying to empty his mind as he watches and waits for a new opening.]
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This time, his leap doesn't carry him to the wall opposite. He lands again on corridor's floor, sinking low in a graceful crouch. He tries to peer forward, through the barricade, through the throng of bodies as the mon-keigh fall into position—but as a number of them seize the chance he has seemingly presented them, he knows by instinct the first gunman is not among the volley of las and bolter fire that greets him. No matter, he thinks again—and, quick as a bullet, he spins the demi-klaive in his hands, deflecting the mon-keigh gunfire before it can so much as scuff his armor. ]
Clever mon-keigh... You only had one chance, and you've missed it. [ Aurelien makes sure of that as he leaps again—this time, not in a predictable track toward the walls, but simply up-and-over. The sound of his laughter fills the air as he twirls forward in an elegant flip, landing atop the first rung of their assembled barricade with his demi-klaive positioned to intercept another shot. ] Now these people are all going to die because you were too slow.
[ Aurelien tastes another wave of despair, and casually rolls behind the protection of the mon-keigh's own barricade to shield himself from another volley of gunfire. Still, as he inhales deep, he is searching for the scent of a different kind of suffering: guilt. ]
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Anger burned hot in his chest, his jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. The Drukhari might have hoped to track him down through the stench of guilt, but the result was similar; Claude squeezed the trigger, firing off a shot that whizzed by just short of the Incubus' left pauldron.
Frustrated by the miss, he scrambled to reload his rifle, refusing to take his eyes off the Drukhari for more than a second at a time. If these people died, then he would die along with them. Every man and woman present on this ship knew the risks involved.
They didn't all know about one noble passenger's past involvement with a young Drukhari, however. Claude's guts roiled as he tried to decide if Aurelien was referring to the shot he'd just missed in the corridor, or to their meeting as children.]
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Aurelien pounces. He vaults across the barricade, and as he lands a mere step from the first line of gunmen, his demi-klaive separates their hands from their bodies before even one manages to pull the trigger. With a shift of his hand, the momentum from his first strike carries through into a second; the edge of his blade slices through bellies' soft flesh, gutting the unfortunates.
His attack seems to serve as a signal—to the mon-keigh and his own retinue alike. Abruptly, there is shooting, and the whistling of klaives through the air, and pain; Aurelien inhales deep, savoring the suffering of the mon-keigh bleeding to their slow-but-inevitable deaths at his feet. As quickly as he had rendered them to pieces, though, he forgets them; his gaze swings toward the man he had been seeking—and as he lays eyes on him at last, time feels as though it stands still.
The last time Aurelien had seen that face, it had been that of a child. Of course, he had been no more than a callow youth, himself—yet to complete his initiation as an Incubus, and abandoned to the predations of She-Who-Thirsts in realspace as a cruel test of the Shrine of the Umbral Lash. Still, despite the distance of the memory, despite the ways that a human's face warps and changes with age, there is no doubt in Aurelien's mind as to the identity of the man who stands before him.
At the time, Claude's... assistance had been an embarrassing secret in Aurelien's mind—one that would surely have seen him expelled from the Shrine of the Umbral Lash, had it been discovered, if not something much worse. Seeing him now, though, something like elation floods his veins. His senses swim with it, and his mouth waters. To meet again, by chance—
It feels like destiny.
The sounds and tastes of battle fade from his thoughts as he leaps for Claude's position. His target isn't the space in front of Claude, though, where he might intercept his rifle; it is behind him, where Aurelien can force his face to the floor of the deck below. ]
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Claude tracked Aurelien with his scope, narrowing his eyes as the incubus paused for a moment after gutting a few of the frontline soldiers. He readied his shot, this time aiming right for his skull--
Then the incubus turned. His helmet covered his face entirely, but Claude was certain could still feel the man's gaze, piercing straight into his soul. His breath shuddered, his hands trembling just enough to ruin his aim. By the Emperor's Light, he was going to run out of opportunities if he didn't focus!
Claude blinked, breathing. When he glanced back through his scope, Aurelien had vanished.]
No, no... [He muttered under his breath, lifting his head and lowering his rifle. Until he found his target, he needed to find new cover. Claude ducked his head safely behind the divider he'd chosen to crouch behind, preparing to hurry off across the room to a new spot with a clearer view of the battle.]
no subject
Caught you.
[ The words are a purr—playful, almost, as long fingers and a broad palm wrap themselves around the curve of Claude's skull. Aurelien giggles, ecstatic, as he seizes Claude by his thick head of hair—and as if he were the weight of a mere feather, Aurelien swings him in his grip, drawing his arm back until Claude's toes have left the deck beneath him.
Claude doesn't have to endure long like that, the weight of his body suspended by nothing more than a handful of his hair. The moment lasts only as long as it takes for him to realize what has happened to him—and then he is rushing down again, the scenery around him blurring as the ground surges up to greet him. Metal slams hard against his ribs, his face, as Aurelien pins him to the floor below; the Drukhari's oppressive presence looms over him, Aurelien's knees pressing into the deck astride his form. ]
Do you remember me, Claude? [ His voice is nearly breathless with pleasure. One clawed gauntlet strokes along Claude's body, over his clothes—as though Aurelien were examining a cut of meat. ] Finally, I'll be able to repay you for all the kindness you showed me!
[ Again, he laughs, loud and bright. ]
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That was all he could process before a fierce pain engulfed his skull, his feet no longer on the floor. And then--
--he was slammed into the metal floor with a loud thud, his rifle skittering across the floor in the opposite direction.
Dazed, Claude could do little more than twitch as the Drukhari pinned him against the cold metal, his weight bearing down on his back, solid and uncompromising. When he finally had enough sense of mind to resist, his body screamed its objection, his ribs aching sharply with every breath, his face on fire, multiple bones either fractured or broken.
Then the Drukhari spoke to him again. Between panting breaths, he could make out how positively gleeful the man sounded, his wandering touch offering a second warning.
But it wasn't the possibility of death that made him shiver with fright- it was that promise, delivered with such a loud, cheerful laugh. Every human knew that death was preferable to being captured by Drukhari. The Drukhari in particular having a specific interest in him couldn't be an improvement.]
Wh-what are you- [His ribs ached fiercely as he spoke, the burning pain only worsening as he tried to buck Aurelien off his back.]
no subject
No...?
[ With deliberate slowness, Aurelien's head inclines, the Incubus making a show of his contemplation. Then, he exclaims: Ah!—a theatrical, exaggerated pantomime of epiphany. ]
Of course—you need something to jog your feeble mon-keigh memory.
[ Aurelien's weight falls atop Claude where he straddles him—surprisingly heavy, given the lithe frame of a Drukhari. As Aurelien rises to sit upright over Claude, he tugs the helmet of his power armor free, pale hair spilling loose around his shoulders as he bares his face to the fallen noble beneath him. ]
That is better, [ he sighs, rapturous, as he casts his helmet aside. He spares not a glance for where it falls, the sound of its metal scraping along the floor of the deck lost in the sounds of combat that rage around them still. ] Look upon me properly, little pet, and recall my face.
[ Aurelien is no more gentle as he turns Claude over onto his back. Those metal claws bite into the line of Claude's jaws as Aurelien holds his gaze to his own, a smile of delight beaming on his pale face. ]
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Under any other circumstances, he would be pleased by such a chance meeting. Now, he dreaded seeing those golden eyes again. Undoubtedly, they would be the last thing he ever saw, aside from his own blood.
Claude tried to brace himself before Aurelien flipped him onto his back, but there was time for no more than a deep, shuddering breath. He clenched his teeth hard as he landed on his back- now, Aurelien would be able to see his broken nose, bruised cheek, and mess of blood that had flowed down his lips and chin. When green eyes met gold, Aurelien would be met with a stare of pain and profound regret, with angering still simmering just beneath it.
He was so fixated on the face he remembered, so beautiful in adulthood, that he barely winced as the claws of Aurelien's gauntlet dug small cuts into his jaw.]
What are you waiting for? [He sneered, trying to suppress old emotions. It didn't matter how he felt about this particular Drukhari- as he knew well, the best he could hope for was a quick death while he was still on the imperial ship. Claude certainly didn't want to die, but he knew when hope was lost. They all knew.]
Whoever you are... you aren't the quiet, fearful boy I met back then. Not at all.
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You are a fool, [ he laughs at Claude's attempt to deny him—breathless, aroused. As punishment, the back of Aurelien's gauntlet strikes Claude's face, swift and sharp—but the blow seems distracted, somehow. ] I am what I was always meant to be.
[ His fear had been an imperfection, and those days in realspace had purged him of it. There will be time for the two of them to catch up later, though—assuming, of course, that Claude doesn't break before Aurelien has finished with him. Again, Aurelien's fingers wander to his armor; this time, the unhook the protective codpiece that fastens over his groin. Aurelien grunts with quiet relief as his cock swings free of constricting metal—larger by far than a human man's, and swelling still heavier with his lust.
It's far from the first time he has relieved his battle-lust with the body of an unfortunate human, but rarely have those humans been anything more to him than a convenient hole. This feels... different. Special. His cock twitches, already dripping with his excitement, as Aurelien presses his gauntlets beneath the heavy brocade of Claude's Imperial dress and shreds the cloth from his skin. ]
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...But the next blow never came.
His senses gradually returned, just in time for him to see Aurelien removing a piece of his armor. A very specific piece. Claude's eyes widened, a new terror filling his heart, replacing that sense of calm acceptance.]
No.... no no no. [Aurelien's cock was already straining, its size enhancing the dread threatening to overwhelm Claude's mind. He might be prepared to die, but he didn't want to die like that. Words stuck in his throat, he reached up a hand and pressed his palm flat against Aurelien's chest plate, fingers trembling.
He jolted when the Drukhari began shredding his own lighter armor, his entire body tense. None of the burning pain from his various injuries could force him to lie still, not when he now knew what Aurelien had planned for him.]
If that time... meant anything to you... don't do this. [He pleaded, searching for the 'humanity' he'd seen in those same golden eyes many years back.]
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[ And yet, Aurelien's heart pounds in his chest those light strips of armor come away from Claude's body. The despair emanating from Claude's body... Aurelien can find no other word for it but beautiful. The scent of it permeating the air draws Aurelien closer; again, the weight of his densely-muscled body smothers Claude beneath him, and he tastes the burn of those already-broken ribs in the anguish that soaks the space between them. ]
For us to see each other again... [ He sighs against Claude's mouth, his breath as hot as any man's. Doggedly, he shreds through cloth and armor with his claw-tipped hands; at last, his fingertips bite down into skin, Aurelien drawing a trail of bloody tracks from Claude's chest to his stomach. ] Such a meeting can mean only one thing.
[ Aurelien's huge, hard shaft rubs between Claude's thighs. With every desperate thrash of Claude's limbs, with every pathetic squirm of his frail little body, it rubs against him—as if it were a reminder to them both of the torment yet to come. Just the thought is enough to leave Aurelien so erect that he aches; finally, his fingers catch in the waist of Claude's trousers, tugging them downward with the impatience to match his half-delirious lust. ]
Struggle all you like. [ Those metal claws bite into the meat of Claude's thighs as he presses his legs back, exposing Claude's bare hole to the air. ] Your pain... Your suffering... They're delectable.
[ The monstrous head of Aurelien's cock presses to the rim of Claude's hole. Its tip leaks with his desire, plentiful and slick—but still far, far too little to ease the way as Aurelien forces himself inside, heedless of Claude's comfort. ]
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Cutting through the pain, he heard some absurd musing about this unexpected reunion. He might have laughed if he didn't fear his ribs cutting into his lungs and unintentionally drowning him in his own blood.
Despite Aurelien's warning, or perhaps 'invitation', Claude couldn't fully control his reactions when he felt that massive cock, already fully erect and straining between his thighs. He tried to kick the Drukhari, to somehow flee from his cock, but he never stood a chance- even if he was uninjured, he could never hope to take down a Drukhari one-on-one.
Claude cried out again as Aurelien yanked down his trousers, his legs still flailing as he tried to kick him. The claws dug into his thighs, pressing them back, his resistance just as effective as a human challenging a space marine to an arm wrestling contest.
His head fell back against the metal floor with a low thud, the press of the Drukhari's enormous cockhead against his hole making his previous fear seem minor in comparison. He wasn't a virgin, far from it, but even Lorenz's sizable dick felt ordinary in comparison to the monster that tore into him. He screamed as it split him open, like he was being impaled with the sharp end of a dagger. Delirious with pain, he wondered if there would have been any difference.]
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Once, he might have paid some consideration to savoring the moment—but he can hear the frenetic sounds the surround them dying down, little-by-little, and he has no desire for their reunion to be interrupted. As though he barely feels the desperate kick of Claude's legs at all, he guides them wide by his hands' iron grip; the motion angles Claude's hips upward, and Aurelien forces himself deeper with a smooth thrust of his powerful hips. ]
That's right, my little pet—scream for me...
[ His voice oozes with his pleasure—with satisfaction, with affection. He wonders, does Claude realize? Does he understand that every moment since their first meeting—every breath, every step, every choice he has made—has been leading him to this moment? Blood trickles down his fingers. He pounds his cock deep, every rough, unrelenting thrust splitting Claude's insides around him until the pale flesh of his shaft is streaked with red, too. ]