#smut fics are indeed a tricky territory

[emospritelet]

Temptation

This is my second Monsterfuckers’ Ball fic, following on from the Macacey smut in Part 1. Having seduced Father MacAvoy, Lacey goes to find one of her own kind. The pawnbroker has been expecting her.

[Part 1] [AO3]

The moment she stepped into Storybrooke, he felt it, a tickle at the nape of his neck, a creeping tingle running down his spine, as though someone was whispering his name from the shadow realm. His true name. It had been years since he had used it. He called himself Gold, when the humans asked, as so many of them did. They were curious creatures, using up their short lives in a frenzy of eating and drinking and fucking, with precious few taking the time to acquire knowledge of the old ways. Lucky for him, he supposed.

He had not seen one of his own in years, ever since he had carved out a large and lonely territory in Maine. Isolation was one of the reasons for coming so far to the north-east of the country, but he had to admit that a slower pace of life was also something he enjoyed, having passed relatively unscathed through the rage and recklessness of his youth. There were too many incubi clustered in Las Vegas and Los Angeles, and he much preferred the relative peace of small town Storybrooke. Solitary by nature, there were only three reasons he could think of for another of his kind to seek him out. It had not happened in some time, and the last encounter had ended in violence and death. For the intruder, anyway.

He pushed the porcelain cup he had been dusting back on its shelf, getting down from the stepladder and striding to the door of his shop. It was cold outside, a stiff breeze blowing from the south west, and he lifted his nose, catching a scent on the breeze. A succubus: a female. That didn’t mean she wasn’t there to challenge him, of course, nor did it mean that she didn’t want his assistance in some dark ritual. However, there was an edge to her scent, something that made his skin tingle and his cock swell in his pants. So. She wanted to mate.

He stepped back into his shop, closing the door behind him and walking to the back room. It was unlikely she would approach him until she was ready, and he certainly had no objection to that. She would need to find a partner first, and take the seed from him, the first step in creating a demon child. There would need to be at least a little planning and preparation before that could occur, unless of course she decided to go to that dive of a bar and grab the first desperate drunk she could find. There were certainly enough of those in Storybrooke, but he hoped that her taste would be a little better. He certainly wasn’t keen to touch the likes of Keith Nottingham, even if only by proxy.

It was somewhat ironic, he reflected, that his kind were dependent on humans to reproduce, but the process itself was certainly pleasant. It had been decades since he had been approached by one of his own for the purpose, and he wondered what form she had chosen to make her way in this world. Humans offered little in the way of temptations of the flesh, in his opinion, but he had grown used to them, and had something of a preference for petite brunettes. His mind wandered briefly south, to New York, and his latest deal for a first edition Oscar Wilde. He licked his lips at the memory of clear blue eyes and a soft voice, shapely limbs and small feet. Petite brunettes with a love of reading and a penchant for impractical footwear, then.

Smirking to himself, he took a seat at the workbench, bending to look over the old watch he was preparing for sale. It would no doubt take his would-be partner a little while to complete the first stage of the process. He had time on his hands until then.

x

It was six days later that it happened.

He could sense a change in the air, a pulsing electricity that coursed through his skin and made the hairs on his arms rise. He had been working late, cataloguing the latest collection of antiques that he had purchased. The other shops in Storybrooke had long since closed, the time inching past midnight, but he was still there, clad in the slim-fitting suit and tie he had adopted as part of his human persona. The silk he wore felt pleasant, a sensual softness against his skin, but he would shed it in an instant for the one coming to him.

He stood, walking through to the main shop and turning to glance at his reflection in the mirror that hung behind the counter. Brown hair fell around his face. streaked with silver at the temples. He was not a tall man, but the humans were nonetheless wary, keeping their distance even when they sought him out to make their petty excuses and to beg him to buy their trinkets. They still seemed to fear him, despite him speaking in low tones and showing his teeth in cold smiles. Perhaps they could sense the darkness in him. It mattered not.

The shop doorbell tinkled, and he smiled, the low light from the lamps gleaming on the one gold tooth he wore as he took in the reflection over his shoulder. She was small and pale, dark chestnut hair falling around her shoulders in shining waves. A short black dress hugged her slender figure, her legs long and shapely. High-heeled shoes lifted her a few inches taller than she would otherwise have been, but her height was perfect. She was perfect. A delightful human form, to be sure. She reminded him of someone, but he shoved the image away before it could interfere with the matter at hand. Something to think on later.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and her full lips curved in a soft, secretive smile.

“Lacey,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Rumplestiltskin,” he whispered.

He turned to face her, and she pursed her lips, walking slowly towards him with her hips swaying invitingly.

“Quite a mouthful,” she said, and her eyes flicked up and down him, lingering between his legs for a moment. “I do appreciate a long - name.”

His grin widened, and he gestured to the curtain that covered the doorway to the back room.

“Would you care to come through?”

“I would.”

She walked past him, hips still swinging and her tight rear end twitching. He caught a whiff of her scent as she passed, and let out a low, guttural growl of arousal, his cock pushing against his underwear, eager to get inside her. He followed her through, letting the curtain fall behind him and looking her over slowly before meeting her stare for stare. The dress she wore clung to her curves, slashes at the neck revealing the pale skin beneath. He longed to uncover every inch of that skin, to let his tongue flicker over her and taste her. Who had she chosen, in the end? Whose seed did she carry? His cock was growing harder, throbbing, insistent, and he licked his lips, leaning in to let his nostrils flare, drawing in the mingled scents. His eyes widened, and he drew back.

“You chose the priest?” he said, surprised, and she grinned, raising her chin.

“I always did like what was forbidden to me,” she said. 

“How did you manage to enter the church?” he asked. “Bit of a risky prospect.”

Lacey reached into the neckline of her dress and tugged at a thin gold chain, pulling out a round, dark stone. It swung back and forth on the chain, seeming to eat the light around it.

“Brimstone amulet,” she said carelessly.

“Ah.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Providing temporary protection from consecrated ground. A tricky thing to make. Don’t you need the tears of an angel, or something ridiculous?”

“You know your amulets,” she said, looking impressed, and he inclined his head.

“I’m in the trade, as it were,” he said. “A rare item. Difficult to procure.”

Lacey shrugged, kicking off her shoes and wriggling her toes on the wooden floor.

“I know a demon who knows an angel.”

“A useful contact,” said Gold. “Perhaps you and I can do some business.”

She looked him up and down very deliberately, and raised her chin.

“There’s only one deal I’m looking to make tonight.”

“Indeed.” Gold took off his jacket, shaking it out before hanging it on the nearby coat rack. “Perhaps you should take it off for the duration, though. Dark magic mixed with light - well, those things can be volatile.”

“Point taken.”

She reached behind her, unfastening the clasp of the gold chain, and set the necklace on the desk behind her. Gold was intrigued, and wanted to study it further, but he doubted she would let him. Perhaps they could make a deal for another in the future, though.

“The amulet was effective in getting to the priest, I take it?” he said, and she pursed her lips.

“As much as it needed to be,” she said. “It gives off a scent, of course, but then they burn a lot of incense in these places, so I guess he didn’t notice.”

“Well, perhaps his mind was on other things,” said Gold, looking her over. “And he a man of God. For shame.”

Lacey smirked.

“Oh, I’ve had many a priest, in my time,” she said softly. “All supposedly holy men. All eager to get a taste of me, and most without me offering. I clearly wasn’t the first they had touched. Just the first to fight back.”

Gold chuckled.

“That must have been an - interesting - experience for them,” he said, and Lacey’s eyes gleamed, blue as moonlight.

“I’d like to say they had a chance to reflect on the sin of forcing those in their power to endure their touches,” she said. “But they didn’t. I took what I needed and sucked the life from them. Ironic, really.”

“Father MacAvoy doesn’t strike me as that type,” he remarked, and she shook her head, her mouth twisting a little.

“No, not him,” she said. “He’s a good man, not like the rest of them. Although it has to be said he didn’t put up much of a challenge. Some initial protest for my poor soul. It didn’t stop him fucking me.”

“Well, I could hardly blame him,” said Gold lazily. “Take off the dress.”

“Why don’t you come here and take it off?”

He licked his lips, a low growl rumbling out of him. Lacey’s breath caught, her eyes widening, and he could sense the excitement rising within her, making the air around him spark and tingle. Stepping forward, he reached for her, hands sliding over her hips as his mouth found hers. Lacey moaned, grasping at him, her fingers pushing through his hair as her nails scored his scalp. It made him growl again, and he shoved her against the wall, his tongue pushing into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her as he slipped one leg between hers, his thigh pushing up against her groin.

Lacey moaned again, thrusting her hips, rubbing herself against him, and her hands slid down from his hair to grasp his tie, plucking it open and tearing it from around his neck. Gold cupped her breasts with his hands, pulling his mouth from hers to nip at her jaw, his tongue stroking against her throat, tasting the salt of light perspiration and breathing in the scent that had drifted into his nose six days earlier. The scent that told him of her need. 

He reached down, gripping the hem of the dress and tugging it up her body, and Lacey raised her arms as he stepped back to pull it over her head. Her body was pale and smooth, her breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples, and as he watched a pattern of shining blue scales rippled over her skin, her demon form coming through in her excitement. She was beautiful, her body firm and lithe and perfect, and he growled again as he ran his eyes over her. The scent of her pleasure was strong, making his cock throb and his balls ache. She would have drawn the seed deep inside her, holding it there until it could be released. Until he opened her up and took it from her. His tongue flicked against his teeth, eager to taste her, and he jerked his head to the side.

“On the bench,” he rasped.

Lacey smirked, pushing past him with a sway of her hips, her hair gleaming in the light as she turned on bare toes to face him. She reached behind her, boosting herself up onto the workbench with the heels of her hands, her breasts bouncing as she did so. Gold reached up, letting one finger bend slowly forward, and she lowered herself onto her back, arching up off the bench as she drew up her knees. He stepped forward and ran his hands up her slender calves, fingers sliding over her knees and pulling them apart. 

The soft cleft at the apex of her thighs was glistening with fluid, and he let his hands stroke up her legs, pushing them further apart, baring her to his sight and his touch. Gold let his tongue grow long and tapered, flicking it over the soft skin of her inner thighs, moving up with gentle, rhythmic strokes. Lacey moaned as he licked her, circling the sensitive nub at the top of her cleft. His tongue flickered over her wet flesh, and he could taste the priest on her, musk and salt and a certain human sharpness. He let the tongue push inside her, sliding deep to where the taste of salt was stronger, and felt his cock grow harder as he recognised her need, as he tasted the seed inside her. He let it thrust in and out, licking against the barrier of her flesh, the tip probing the tight entrance to her inner chamber where she held the seed.

Lacey moaned, pushing her hips upward, and he growled deep in his throat, his tongue teasing her as he tried to find a way inside. She wouldn’t open for him until he was inside her, until his cock was buried deep within her and he was ready to burst, but the teasing felt good, his tongue pushing at her, circling and swirling. He pulled it back a little, rubbing against her inner walls, and she let out a cry of pleasure, her fingers twisting in his hair. She was close. She was ready. It wouldn’t take long. His tongue slipped out again, dripping with her juices, dancing over her skin before he swallowed her down, and he straightened up, shrugging out of his waistcoat and bending to take off his shoes. He wanted to be in his true form for this. 

Lacey let out a low growl, writhing on the bench as he shed his clothing, her rapid breathing and bright eyes showing that she was eager for his touch. Tiny scales bloomed to life on her face and chest, spreading over her skin in patches of glittering blue and silver, and he heard his own growl rumble outward as her long tongue flicked out, tasting his scent in the air. He tore off his shirt, pushing down pants and underwear in one, noting the scales rippling up from his fingers and coating his forearms in gleaming gold. Lacey scooted backwards a little, long tail sweeping out from behind and lashing the air. He could feel his own break free, stroking up her legs as he climbed onto the bench on his knees. She pushed up on the heels of her hands, plump breasts heaving as she licked her lips.

Gold ran his hands up her thighs, pushing them apart and sliding his fingers beneath her buttocks to pull her upwards. His fingertips dug into her skin, black claws sinking into her. Lacey let out a high-pitched cry, arching her back, pushing up to meet him as her head rolled back, and he felt the head of his cock push at the soft heat of her entrance. His balls ached, hanging low and heavy, rubbing against her, and he let out a low groan as he thrust inside her, sliding deep. She purred, running her hands up his arms and over his shoulders to plunge into his hair. He felt his tail stroke against hers, and let it wrap around her ankle, tugging it upwards to let him push deeper.

His cock was buried deep inside her, and he let it lengthen further as his hips pumped and he thrust hard and fast, ramming against the firm barrier of flesh that her body had created, seeking to break through. Lacey moaned and writhed, legs wrapping around his back, her tail twisting around his, her body now covered in glittering blue scales and her eyes gleaming like moonlight. He kissed her again, long tongue stroking her mouth as he pushed and thrust, feeling her heat and her wetness coating him, feeling her begin to open up, that tiny hole starting to widen, squeezing the head of his cock as it pushed inside. He felt as though he was going to burst, pleasure coursing through him, and he groaned into her mouth as he came hard, his cock pulsing, shooting hot seed into her.

She tore her mouth from his with a shriek as she came, and he felt a rush of fluid all around him as she let him enter her fully, releasing the priest’s seed to mix with his. It felt incredible, and he let his balls contract, reversing the flow of fluid as the tingle of their strange dark magic tickled at his skin. His cock pumped, drawing the hot seed from her body and into his, the feel of it intensifying his orgasm, making pleasure crash through him. He growled and snarled, tail lashing in his excitement as his balls grew heavy with seed once more, and Lacey dug her nails into his shoulders as she pumped against his cock, helping him draw every drop from her. Her flesh was clamped around the head so hard it was exquisitely painful, but he felt her relax a little as he took the last from her, as he drew the seed deep and kept it safe.

He let out a low, guttural groan as he slowed to a stop, his head hanging, and Lacey murmured contentedly, her tail uncurling from around his leg to stroke over his back. Its touch was gentle, almost affectionate, and he shivered a little as it brushed over his legs and licked at the soles of his feet. She released him with a sudden softening of her flesh, letting him pull out of her, and he pushed up on his hands, licking his lips as he looked down. Her scales were fading a little, the human form showing through in pale patches, and she sent him a slow smile, eyelids fluttering.

“That was fucking awesome,” she drawled, and he grinned.

“Glad to be of service.”

He pushed back, getting down from the bench and pulling on his clothes, the shop feeling cold after the heat they had shared. Lacey watched him, leaning on her elbows, dark curls tumbling over pale shoulders.

“I never did this before,” she admitted. “Not with the goal of actually reproducing in mind, anyway. Not with someone like you.”

“Someone like us, you mean?” he said, tying his shoes with practised tugs of his fingers.

“Yeah.” She stretched languidly, pointing her toes. “It felt different with you. Fucking ordinary men has its pleasures, I guess, but there’s the danger I might just get a little over-excited.”

“Leaving a very dead human in your wake,” he agreed. “Self-control is one of the first things you need to learn as a demon, if you want to survive in their world.”

“Oh, I only do it to the ones that deserve it,” she said. “It’s not my fault their souls are more delicious than their personalities, right?”

He had to grin at that.

“I daresay you’re doing the rest of the world a favour,” he said. “There are a few in this town who would benefit from your attention, if you feel the need.”

“Nah, I’m good.” She stretched again. “Maybe if I swing by this way again.”

“Maybe so.”

He straightened up, pulling on his shirt and feeling the pleasant whisper of silk against his skin. Lacey slipped from the bench, snatching up her dress and pulling it over her head.

“Are you leaving right away?” he asked. “You’re welcome to stay and have a drink. I find myself in the mood to be unexpectedly sociable.”

Lacey shook her head, looking regretful.

“I’d better get back,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “There’s a ritual I was planning on being a part of. I just had an itch that needed scratching before I could concentrate properly on summoning dark powers, you know what I mean?”

“Concentration is important in these things, I find,” he said.

“Yeah.” She pursed her lips. “And it was a pretty distracting itch. Made it hard to think about anything other than getting well and truly fucked.”

“Then I’m happy to have scratched it,” he said smoothly.

He zipped his fly, buckling his belt. His balls were very full, and his pants were a little tight because of it, making him very aware of what he had just done, and what he still needed to do. It made his lust rise up once more, his desire to perform the final part of the dark dance of creation swelling within him. His cock twitched, and Lacey watched him with a knowing smirk, her head tilted to the side and her expression curious.

“Who’s it gonna be?” she asked. “I mean it’s none of my business, but you’ve got your eye on someone, right?”

“Perhaps.”

“Hmm.”

She stepped into her shoes, running fingers through her curls in an attempt to tame them, and tugged her dress straight.

“Is it someone from the town?” she asked, and he shook his head, buttoning his shirt.

“No,” he said. “Not someone from the town.”

“Well, that’s always better, I guess,” she said. “What does she look like?”

Gold smiled.

“Actually, she looks a lot like you,” he said. “Brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, soft pink lips… Delicious in every way. Or so I predict.”

“Really?” She looked pleased at that. “You have a type, huh?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “I’m hoping the encounter will be every bit as pleasant as this one. I shall certainly endeavour to make it so.”

“Well, accept my congratulations in advance,” she said, shaking out her hair. “She going to be willing, you think?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

She smirked in response, and stepped towards him, her hips swinging back and forth. He tugged his waistcoat closed, and Lacey ran her hands up his chest, rising up on her toes as she placed a soft kiss on his mouth. She sank back on her heels, looking very self-satisfied.

“I’m gonna get out of here,” she said. “Look me up if you’re ever in Memphis.”

Gold grinned at that.

“I don’t really get out much.”

“Bit of a loner, hmm?”

“Aren’t we all?”

She chuckled softly, and stepped back, brushing herself down and letting out a heavy, contented sigh.

“Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, and sauntered off.

He heard the cheerful tinkle of the shop’s bell as she left, and finished buttoning his waistcoat, crossing to the standing mirror to check his appearance. His skin was humming, desire making his blood sing in his veins and his lips tingle. He looped the silk tie around his neck, knotting it tightly, and smiled darkly at his reflection, his eyes gleaming gold for the briefest of moments. He had a seduction to plan.

#fic: original sin verse #fic: temptation #golden lace fic #rumbelle fic #golden lace #my fic #rumbelle monster's ball #lemon fic #rather large estate #demon golden lace #incubus!Gold and succubus!Lacey

[fuukonomiko]

More Abaslout Heresy please. Of the coming back for more kind. *eyebrows wiggled*

This fic is for all you heretics out there.

NSFW: ABSOLUTE HERESY

Title: Comfort Zone

Characters: Saint Celestine x Yvraine ( F x F smut)

Summary: When you step out of it, there is no turning back

Also available on AO3 for all you heretics who want to leave me Kudos (I worked hard on this!!!)

Also, I don’t know much about either of them, so if they are OOC, IT’S NOT COMPLETELY MY FAULT.

No plot. Don’t expect any and don’t ask me for one, you’re not going to get it. XD

TAGS (If I forget anyone it was not intentional): @the-fluffy-underbelly @askbelisarius-cawl, @possiblyhereticalultramarine @ask-khayon-the-black, @fainterbread678, @ask-saint-celestine @fulgrim-the-phoenician

‘I do not trust you.“

The eldar stopped in her tracks, she barely turned her head to acknowledge the speaker.

"I am a stranger in this world, Mon'keigh.” she raised a brow. “I am surrounded by your kind…and while I house the God of Death, your sheer numbers may or may not overpower me. ”

She turned around to confront her accuser. Her arms crossed on her chest. “Need I remind you who is at an advantage here?”

“I need to know what your purpose is.”

“Your comatose leader is up and about. Is that not enough?”

Celestine met the eldar’s eyes with her own. “What do you want from us? Why did you raise him from the death sleep?”

“Why not? Would you rather I have not? That can be arranged.” Yvraine sidestepped the living saint to head back to the hallways when the latter stopped her.

Celestine’s wings spread out to block the other woman “You’re going to have to get past me before I allow you to touch my Lord!”

Yvraine , acting quickly, swept the human aside towards the wall, pinning her on it with a combination of physical and psychic might. She put both arms on either side of Celestine’s face, her hands trapping her wings. She leaned forward, cornering the Mon'keigh, her face so close to the living saint that Celestine could feel her breath on her cheek. “I did not know you were the jealous type, Mon'keigh.” she sneered, a corner of her mouth lifting. “But if its any consolation to you, I like my Mon'Keighs of a different flavor.”

Her heart raced wildly, her breathing hastened. Celestine’s mind debated on struggling against the Eldar as her grip on her sword tightened. She did not want to cause a great discord because of her paranoia of the Xeno. “I am not sure what you’re imp…”

But she never got to finish her sentence as Yvraine pressed her lips against Celestine’s open mouth.

It was brief. It was deep. It was nothing like she had ever imagined.

Everything around her seemed to stop.

Her eyes closed at their own accord.

Her lips responded without her behest.

But it was over before she could wrap her head around it.

Yvraine pulled away slowly, pausing an inch away from Celestine’s face before laughing a little.

“Not bad for a Mon'Keigh.” she murmured before completely pulling away. The eldar straightened up, completely releasing the stunned human. She turned about, slowly sauntering away before announcing. “There’s more where that came from…” she turned her head slightly, sweeping Celestine with an inviting gaze. “Wing kink? Is that what you call it?”

Celestine said nothing as the xeno vanished around the corner. She looked around, breathing a sigh of relief that no one had witnessed their exchange.

She touched her mouth which was still warm from their contact.

She found herself smiling a little as she went the other way.

God Emperor help us all….

———–

An apology is not out of the question.

In fact, it should be the first thing she should have done.

Celestine contemplated on this as she slowly made her way to unfamiliar territory.

No one had known of what had transpired between her and the Eldar. No one should, anyway. It was sure to earn her more distrust from the already suspicious Inquisitor Greyfax.

She stopped at the isolated door at the end of the hallway.

It took her a few moments to gather courage to knock at the door.

“You may enter.”

The voice from the other side sent goosebumps on her neck.

Maybe she should’ve just sent a gift basket with a handwritten note. It would cause her nerves to be less tumultuous.

The door slid open, and the living saint stepped through.

Their guest had her own temporary quarters on the fortress, at least until they were to leave, which, from what she knew was going to be fairly soon. The Eldar apparently had their own agenda in the other craftworlds.

The subject of her apology sat before a mirror. She was out of her usual attire and appears to be in a loose sheath dress of simple white. Her pale, white blonde hair still gathered on the headdress she typically wore. She had the long strands gathered to one side as she brushed it.

“Saint Celestine.” she was addressed by the Eldar. She turned her head slightly to acknowledge her. “A pleasant surprise.” she said in a tone which the other woman was unsure was welcoming or condescending. “Have you any more accusations to throw at me?”

The human stepped closer, ignoring her remarks. “I came to apologize Lady Yvraine.” she spoke earnestly. “My words were without merit.”

Through her reflection, Celestine could see that the Eldar was not quite convinced. “I suppose I should accept it.” she remarked as she slowly ran the brush through the delicate strands. “This is not exactly a good way to start an alliance.”

Celestine swallowed. “I understand my faults, my Lady. I would, appreciate it if this matter could be left between us.”

The Aeldari said nothing and continued to brush her hair.

The few minutes she stood there awkwardly in silence felt like an eternity. “I should take my leave now.”

She turned away, walking a little faster than she normally would.

“Saint Celestine.”

She turned about, expecting another verbal barb.

“May I ask for your assistance?”

The human did not expect this question, as she took a few steps closer to the Xeno. “How may I be able to help you, m’Lady?”

The priestess motioned to the complex headdress she wore. “This would be easier to remove if I had some extra hands. Would you care to?”

She nodded as the Xeno turned about to face the mirror, a small smile painted on her lips. “Just untangle them from the braiding.” she said, reaching up to demonstrate. “Like this.”

The process looked easy enough, and for all the guilt she felt, Celestine figured it was the least she could do. She started on one end as Yvraine began on the other.

Celestine had never encountered anything like this.

It was a very different experience indeed.

The Eldar’s hair was twisted tightly around the hair piece and she tried to undo it as gently as she could.

“Let me know if I’m pulling too hard.” she said with a note of worry in her voice. Yvraine’s hair was fine and rather silky, a stark contrast to human hair with its unusual texture. It was like undoing fine threads from a silk loom. Needless to say she liked the way it ran through her fingertips.

What in the Emperor’s name am I saying???  

She shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts when the Eldar handed her the brush she was using earlier.

“It would please me if you could use this.” she asked with a mild tilt of her head. “It helps straighten it out of the weave.”

“Of course.”

Yvraine was unable to rid her lips of the grin she wore.

Celestine was thrown off guard without a doubt, she thought. She would be lying if she said to herself that the Mon’keigh’s discomfort was something she did not enjoy. She thought…no, she knew …that there was something more to the human’s awkwardness than just the whole incident.

She was going to prove that.

Celestine continued to undo the other woman’s hair. The headpiece was tricky to say the least. Several times she had to yank hard and end up tugging Yvraine’s head a certain direction.

“Oh.”

“Apologies!”

“No, no, it doesn’t hurt.” Yvraine said, amused how those little motions to her were more stimulating than painful.  Silly mon’keigh .

She shook her head to let her hair loose, brushing the Mon'keigh’s hands in the process. “Thank you, Saint Celestine.” she said at last as her hair was freed from the confines of her headdress. It fell on her back like a white, silken curtain.

“It’s the least I can do.” she said.

“Would you like me to return the favor with your wings?” she suggested as the other woman appeared to take her leave.

“I…”

“It’s the least I can do.” she shrugged her angled shoulders. “I know my hair was not easy to disentangle.”

The living saint was torn. Refusing would have been impolite. Agreeing made her feel imposing.

Yvraine had already stood and gone behind the human, making her sit on the the Aeldari’s bed.

She began to stroke the back of her wings, the part attached to her trunk.

Celestine shivered.

“I’m sorry.” the Aeldari apologized. “Did that…hurt you?”

“No…no…it’s just…new…I suppose.”

The human, in all honesty, wasn’t sure what to say.

There was no pain, not at all.

What there was was difficult to describe…

She took a deep breath.

“Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes…yes, please do.”

The voice she heard did not feel like her own, Celestine concluded. It was as though someone else deep within her spoke.

Yvraine stroked some more. Her long fingers brushed the wings downwards in the direction of its feathers. She gently straightened out those that were crooked, running her hands through them. Through it all Celestine inhaled deeply. Something was stirring inside her. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all…but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

The other woman smiled. “I see you enjoy it.”

“I do.”

Her breath was getting ragged, though she wasn’t quite sure what from. The Aeldari started to run her hand on the clothed skin between her wings.

She flinched.

“Ah.”

“I get the same kind of sensation when my ears are touched.” Yvraine leaned forward this time, whispering in Celestine’s ear. “Would you….”

The eldar had not finished her sentence when the human reached over her shoulder to touch her ear. She traced its triangular shape, defining its shape with her fingers.

Yvraine gasped.

She took a few steps back.

Celestine turned about, her eyes now meeting those of the eldar who was now holding that part that she had laid her delicate, ungloved fingers on.

No words were exchanged.

No sounds could be heard other than heavy breathing.

“You did not come here to merely apologize…” Yvraine spoke, her hands still on her ear.

“It is all I came here for, my lady.” Celestine was starting to flush. “I think I really should leave now.”

Celestine stood from the bed, and walked past the eldar on her way to the door. She paused, throwing her a glance.

She did not know what beckoned her to, but she reached out to Yvraine’s face and touched her other ear.

The xeno swallowed.

What transpired next, no one can truly recall.

The living saint found herself on the guest bed.

The Aeldari was on top of her, her white blonde hair a silvery cascade around her.

“You realize what you are asking for by doing such, Mon’Keigh?”

“I believe I do.”

“You’re not even denying it.”

“Should I?”

Celestine welcomed the kiss bestowed upon her by the xeno, parting her mouth slightly to receive it. Her hands found themselves on the other woman’s waist, pushing her tightly against her. Luckily she had not chosen to wear armor before visiting as it would have truly provided a hindrance to the body heat that passed between them.

Their clothes were in a tangle, and after much yanking and tossing they found themselves undressed on a bed of rumpled sheets.

Celestine had never laid eyes on a naked Xeno, not even in battle. She was fascinated by the way her skin glowed opalescent and smooth, like a glistening pearl. Yvraine allowed her eyes to roam over the living saint. She had her share of Mon’keighs in the past, however few and far between they were, although it had been under much different circumstances.

“Like what you see, mon’Keigh?” Yvraine spoke first as she brushed Celestine’s hair away from her face.

“I would be lying if I said no.” she replied as she reached out to touch the eldar’s neck, running a path down to her shoulders, caressing with the back of her hand. When her palms descended to her chest, she filled her hands with Yvraine’s perky breasts.

The eldar whimpered as she returned the favor, caressing Celestine’s chest as she bent down to take her mouth in another kiss.

Hands traveled, fingers caressed, sinful sounds emanated from their throats as they explored each other’s supple, naked bodies. Celestine’s legs parted out of their own accord when she felt Yvraine’s hand move across her thighs.

“Touch me…” she whimpered.

“Try stopping me.” she laughed as her fingers introduced themselves to Celestine’s womanhood.

She was hot. She was wet. She was extremely tight.

She slid a finger in. Celestine murmured approval as it moved into her. Two. Three. Her back arched as the eldar’s fingers delved into her moist recesses. She began to pump her fingers in and out, as she moved to slide the human’s breast into her mouth.

“By the Emperor….”

She squirmed with every suckling motion on her breast as it matched the rhythm with the fingers between her legs.

Yvraine’s body rubbed against hers as she descended, trailing a path of kisses down Celestine’s torso. When she arrived where her fingers were she moved the human’s legs apart, replacing her hand with her mouth she elicited a cry of delight from her partner’s mouth. She dipped her tongue it, lapping generously and without restraint.

“Wait….aahhh…wait…”

The Aeldari stopped mid-lick, her mouth covered in Celestine’s essence. “Does it not please you, Mon’Keigh?”

“Would you…allow me to return the favor?”

Yvraine smiled as she rolled unto her back.She laid flat as the human moved above her, spreading her wings open and assuming her position on the eldar’s womanhood. Celestine had positioned the center of her desire over the eldar’s face.

Celestine visually appraised the wet folds before her. Aeldari anatomy was no different than humans, she thought, when she traced the slit before her with a finger, drawing a deep-throated moan from the other woman. When she pushed on her clit, the xeno just about bolted up the bed.

Not much different at all…..she mused.

She dipped her face on Yvraine’s warm delta as the xeno resumed her earlier invasion of the living saint’s lower lips. They tasted each other, alternating tongues with fingers as the writhed under each other’s touch. Continuously. Feverishly. Longingly.

Slowly, her pleasure built in the pits of the Aeldari’s stomach. Her body began to hint at reaching her peak. Fluttering sensations bloomed in her lower abdomen and Yvraine clenched her body as it released as a tide of warmth throughout her. She dug her nails on the cheeks of the mon’keigh’s ass as she continue to eat her out. She shook like a leaf as her intense feelings of delight racked her slender frame.

Celestine was not far behind, her climax culminating in a wave that washed over her, eliciting guttural sounds from her throat as she released her essence on the Aeldari’s tongue. She writhed, legs extending with her heels digging on the very mattress she laid on. The xeno was more than happy to lick off whatever she released.

Yvraine was coming down her orgasmic high when she felt the other woman move. Posing her own wet delta against the Aeldari’s still throbbing lower lips, Celestine assumed the scissoring position. She started grinding herself against the xeno, causing friction between their adjacent nether regions. Yvraine gasped as she clutched unto the mattress, crying out in words Celestine did not recognize. She started to match the human’s movements, rubbing her slit against hers and eliciting more sinful sounds from her.

“Thrones….”

“Mmmmphhh….”

They melded their lower bodies against each other, grinding vigorously as their pleasures intensified with every touch.

They came. Hard. One after another, however who was first and who quickly followed was a question neither of them bothered answering as they collapsed upon the mattress, panting and spent. Celestine rolled over after catching her breath, allowing her wings to stretch. Yvraine laid supine, as she pulled over her discarded clothing on her person.

“I have to admit….” Yvraine spoke through bursts of breathing. “I have never enjoyed a Mon’Keigh as much as I have you, Saint Celestine…”

Celestine laughed as she met the other woman’s gaze. “I’m certain you say that to all the humans you have laid with.”

The other woman smirked. “I have no reason to be untruthful.” she replied. “Especially if…I had wanted another…what you humans call it? A roll in the hay?”

“So soon?” the living saint crawled up to the half-covered xeno. “I wouldn’t mind another one….if it would please you.”

“Or would it please you?”

“I vote for both.”

Yvraine cradled Celestine’s head in her arms as they rested.

“No one should know of this.”

“It is not of anyone’s business but our own.” Yvraine reassured her as she stroked the human’s soft, dark hair. “It’s a pity I have to leave soon.”

The two of them were silent for a while, holding each other and basking in their afterglow.

“Perhaps…we should make the most out this…before I depart.”

Celestine lifted her head to meet the Aeldari’s gaze. “I have no objections…unless you have any meetings prearranged?”

“No, not really.” she lied. She figured the rest of these Mon’Keighs can wait. She was going to have her fix, and she was going to have it  now .

Inquisitor Greyfax paused.

She looked at the door she just past.

Did that sound like…

No.

What would Saint Celestine be doing in this region of the fort? As far as she knew this was where they were hosting the Aeldari emissary.

She heard a sound again.

She took a step back.

“Lady Yvraine? Is all well?” she rapped lightly at the door.

All she could hear was a strangled cry.

The Inquisitor knocked once more.

Noises. Loud banging noises.

She put her hand on the handle and slid the door open.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k smut #saint celestine #yvraine #absolute heresy