{All characters depicted in this work of fiction are of legal age of consent.}



1
It only figured that the officers and civvies would have such extravagant facilities like a private deck on which to work on their tan. And while I doubted Sangheili were even capable of tanning, it didn’t stop Zara from lounging on the deck wearing naught but a two-piece bikini and an inviting smile, holding a brightly coloured soda with a straw.

The observation deck positioned at the very top of Prosperity Station had originally been a spotting nest, typically used by staff manually pinging large targets during invasions. Think of it as a backup in case the laser tracking systems took a beating. But given the peacetime ambassadorial refit of Prosperity, many of her claws had been clipped. That included the point defences, torpedo bays and the capitol ship killing railguns. So, there wasn’t much use for the observation deck at first.

Then some smartypants in an office somewhere (that’s not sarcastic by the way, even I gotta admit the refit was a smart move) figured the observation deck would make a great beach-style relaxation area. So, they installed a mini-bar, some deck chairs and even a pool.

Needless to say, this deck was strictly off limits to marines.

Unless of course your name started with ‘T’ and ended in ‘imber Wolfe,’ and you had a specific invitation from the sexy cougar alien ambassador.

Ambassador Zara ‘Sofidee wasn’t quite able to fully explain her position last night, so she’d left me with the company of Sniperess and Esere and invited me to meet her on the observation deck in the morning. The fact I was officially back on duty hadn’t discouraged her, as mere moments later the staff sergeant had come looking for me with a big bundle of transfer papers. I had been attached to Zara’s ambassadorial retinue. Essentially, I was under her command.

I still wasn’t totally clear on whether that made Zara hot or frightening. Time would tell.

“Do Sangheili even tan?” I asked, looking around to notice we had the deck to ourselves.

“No, but this system’s sun feels wonderful on your skin, doesn’t it?” Reaching over, Zara patted a deck chair beside hers. “Come. Undress and join me.”

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’ve had enough awkward naked encounters with mysterious alien women for one lifetime.”

Zara slurped her drink with a sassy little shrug, then set the bottle aside . “I think I’m beginning to see why you’re still a corporal. Fine. If you’re not going to be pleasing to the eye, at least make yourself useful.”

Rolling over onto her front, I couldn’t help notice the slow, sensual way she moved. And for some reason unknown to me – honest! – my eyes drifted down her sleek body and settled on the tight curves of her ass. Proppe dup on her elbows, she looked over a slender shoulder, peering up with narrowed eyes and a mischievous smirk on her ghastly lips.

“There’s a bottle of oil there. Get to work,” she added teasingly, reaching back and untying the knot that held up her bikini top.

I wasn’t entirely sure she was being serious until she glanced back up at me, irate now. That was an expression I always hated on the Sangheili. Major had given me looks like that when I was first attached to the alien fireteam, and it always felt like I was on the verge of having my entrails feasted upon.

Gulping, I quickly rolled up my sleeves and dropped down to her side, pouring some cinnamon scented moisturising oil into my hands. I started on her back, because frankly if I worked anywhere else I’d have a painful erection in moments. But even still, sliding my wet slippery hands up and down her sleek, smooth back, rubbing over her delicate shoulders and hearing her sigh contently at my touch was already causing gonadal tension that was becoming all too familiar now and days.

As I was working her shoulder blades, Zara said, “I’ve been put in charge of a diplomatic team in contact with Jiralhanae rebels on Verdun. You’re aware of what’s happening there?”

I grunted, working down to the small of her back to catch a drip of excess oil tracing down the slightly concave curvature of her spine. Not that long ago I’d been on a Pelican with the boys, firing pepperballs into a crowd of Brute rioters. Though in our briefing they’d been called exactly that. Riots. I was unaware the trouble had been declared a full-on rebellion.

“It is less a rebellion though,” Zara continued. “More like… uncivil disobedience.”

Skipping over the globes of Zara’s ass, I poured another handful of oil and worked on her thighs. They were as firm as they were long and sleek, and met snugly in a small crease in the middle I imagined sliding something intimate into. Swallowing hard, I worked the glistening slippery liquid down her smooth gams trying to keep my mind on the topic at hand.

“Was bound to happen. The Brutes are technically slaves.”

“An unfortunate truth, I know,” Zara agreed. “I may have a dislike for the Jiralhanae, but having been a Covenant slave myself for a very long time, I can at least sympathise their position on Verdun. Which is why the remaining Sanghelios council has deemed me most fit to arbitrate the situation on Verdun. I want to negotiate with their leader.”

“You’re a convincing woman,” I commented dryly. “I’m sure he’ll listen to reason.”

“She,” Zara corrected. “The Jirlhanae in charge is a woman. You missed a spot, by the way.”

I felt my mouth dry up and by balls get sucked up into my stomach. I knew exactly where this was going. So much so, I didn’t even think about how my hands moved from her ankles up to her ass, kneading the soft flesh between my fingers to work the oil into her skin. The idea of what was about to come up was so grotesque, even boldly fondling Zara’s amazing rear end was no longer doing much for me.

Zara continued. “There’s a Jiralhanae matriarch. The widow of a chieftain, she’s rather typical and very popular with the young Jiralhanae population on Verdun. They answer to her, see to her every beck and call. When she says something, the Jiralhanae will do it. Which is why it’s so important I enter her good graces. Except… as civilised as the matriarch is, she’s not exactly agreeable. It has taken me a lot of wearing down for her to even entertain having dinner with me, never mind actually sit for an official negotiation.”

“I fail to see where I fit into all this,” I lied, and with a snigger, Zara saw straight through me.

“Liar. You know exactly what I need you for. After all, you did some wonderful work on the T’vaoan shipmistress.”

My mind flashed to Mistress, flat on her back, the Skirmisher keening with delight as I slammed her sodden pussy relentlessly. And once more, as if normality was returning, I felt my cock harden against my pants before I could rip my hands off of Zara’s ass.

“I’m going to have to decline, ma’am. A Skirmisher is one thing. But a Brute? That’s a bit of a tall order.”

Zara rolled over to face me, her bikini falling away as she lounged.

She looked good with clothes on, that much was already known to me. In her bikini top she’d looked even better. But now, bare chested, she revealed a pair of breasts so amazing and perfect their awesomeness alone could anchor theoretical physics in scientific fact.

I felt like if I stared at her nipples any longer I’d break the delicate fabric of space-time, so quickly jerked my gaze up to her face again. It was obvious I’d been looking, but Zara was so unabashed, she hardly seemed to mind.

Cocking her head inquisitively, she said, “I think maybe we’re misunderstanding each other here, Corporal Wolfe. What is it you think I’m asking you to do?”

I blinked. “What, uh… what are you asking me to do?”

“Did you think I wanted you to bed a Jiralhanae?” She canted her gaze into a playful little glare. “Naughty little human! As wonderful as you are at it, I’ve no doubt, you can’t fuck away all your problems.”

Amen to that. At some point I was going to be called to arms and my dick was just going to be like ‘No!’

I knelt there for a second looking sheepish, realising I had made some assumptions before Zara had even explained the bigger picture. As I watched her, I noticed one finger gesture casually for me to keep going. So, I poured some more oil into my palm and this time worked upward from her ankles.

“The matriarch is a little bit on the older side,” she explained. “Older than me, even. And my intelligence indicates she really likes to watch.”

I paused around her knees and looked back up to meet her gaze. Admittedly, my eyes lingered on her bare chest again on the way up. “Are you planning to parade me in front of her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning. Even she’s a little wet for the legend that is the Wolf of Verdun. Admittedly she only invited me over because I said I could bring you along. We’ll go to dinner with the matriarch. Have some civil discourse. We can get a little handsy and flirty. Give her a nice little bit of a tease, then offer her more if she’s willing to sit down for proper negotiations. Easy as pie, as I’m sure the phrase goes. You even might enjoy yourself.”

I paused again, my fingers working between her inner thighs this time. “And how do I know this isn’t some weirdly elaborate plot by a pair of dirty old women to have their way with an innocent young human?” Not that ‘thirty’ was ‘young’ by any stretch of the imagination, I still had to wonder how old Zara actually was. Hell, did Sangheili even age like humans did?

So many questions. So much ‘ooh-rah’ getting in the way of my intelligence.

Zara laughed. “Do you always worry so much? Let me remind you that with age comes experience.” Holding my gaze she added huskily, “Maybe after this is over I can pass some of that experience on to your pretty Sangheili girlfriend? I’m a wonderful teacher I assure you. Maybe if you’re a very good boy I’ll let you taste some of that experience first-hand too.”

Staring at her with my slippery hands on her curvy hips, to say I was hard as diamonds was under-selling it. The mere suggestion of this gorgeous alien mature instructing her lifetime of sexual experience on Sniperess made my mind flash, and in an instant I could see it so vividly I could practically feel it happening.

Sniperess was knelt between my legs, accepting the soft vocal instructions from Zara as she older Sangheili held her from behind, long elegant fingers toying wetly with her tight young snatch while Sniperess jerked my length faster and faster. Before finally I ejaculated across both their faces, their eyes shut, mandibles open to gratefully accept my bountiful offering with pleased moans…

The erotic tryst into the depths of my depraved imagination fell away as I surfaced with a full body shudder.

In that moment, even as I was thinking about her, Sniperess appeared. I didn’t even hear the click of her boots, or the rattle of her armoured plating… mainly because her cuirass was missing.

She wasn’t even clad in the usual under-armour catsuit. Like Zara, she wore naught but a two-piece bikini as if she were hitting the beach. Wearing just a few pieces of lime-green cloth, her light grey-blue body was as stunning as Zara was, if not more so. Her taught, athletic body shimmered as she emerged onto the poolside, moisture dripping from her curves as she pulled her sodden hair back.

I stared open mouthed as she walked over like a super model out of an advert for some kind of glamorous sunny holiday. The light beamed through the observatory dome and sparkled on her wet skin like she was covered in jewels. Her hips canted from side to side with each graceful step as she casually rolled an elastic hair-tie off her wrist and tied her deep red plume back.

Despite having already fucked her in every wild and imaginative position I could think of, I’d never wanted to run into the arms of a woman more than I had in that moment.

Then as she stood over me I realised my hands were still glued to Zara’s mid-riff where I was applying oil. Quickly I shuffled back, holding up my hands defensively. It was no secret Sniperess had no problem sharing me. But then old preconceptions died hard.

With a small smile, the young Sangheili woman settled to the ground on Zara’s opposite side. Then she took the bottle of oil from my side, poured some into my hands and took over where I left off. Slowly she rubbed up over Zara’s mid-riff with her palms, making a particular show of sliding her fingers between the ambassador’s breasts, cupping them gently then swirling up and over to pay particular attention to her nipples.

Zara squirmed at her touch, arranging her legs over one another, rubbing her thighs together with a moan as if she were kindling a fire in her bikini bottoms. I could see a wet spot of moisture forming on the dark fabric, and couldn’t help stare at my young alien girlfriend feeling up and caressing her elder with the same enthusiasm she guided my cock into her throat whenever the fancy took her.

They exchanged a few words in their native language, throwing me a quick glance and then giggling among themselves. I really could have used Terp right then, though Zara saw fit to finally translate what I was slowly figuring out for myself.

“She’s given me permission to borrow you,” Zara said, while Sniperess gave me an approving look.

I sighed, flashing the girl a grin. “Yeah, I figured as much.”



2
I felt pretty naked as the Pelican took off behind us. Not for lack of clothing, I was in my dress blues, all my accumulated commendations and medals pinned to my chest. Nothing fancy of course, just one of my couple of purple hearts, an award for valour, combat drop specialist commendation, the sort of things most Covenant War veterans had a whole shit-heap of. Honestly, I had a locker full of medals, and trust me when I say it sounds a lot more impressive than it actually is.

Since I wasn’t a senior NCO, I was entirely unarmed. Not even the dress sabre sergeants got to carry on their dress uniforms. And entirely without armour, standing before a towering keep packed to the brim with Brutes, I felt like I was about to do a combat drop with naught but my skivvies and some harsh language.

Zara was with me, and word on Prosperity was that she had been Sangheili Rangers back when her opinion of humanity had been much less favourable. Covenant Sangheili Special Warfare Group were like the ODST on steroids, so if the rumours were true; this woman was a badass to be counted among the baddest of asses (and let’s not get started on her amazing ass).

That all being said however, given there was literally no space for her to conceal a weapon anywhere under that revealing dress, it wasn’t much of a comfort. She looked damn good at least.

Her dress, or gown more like, ran from her slender waist all the way down to the floor, with several feet of excess trailing behind her. There was a long slit revealing the sleek length of her left leg all the way up to her hip, riding just high enough to draw attention to the distinct lack of a panty-strap.

The top half of her dress featured a plunging neckline all the way down to her navel. And given the height advantage she had over me I could have just walked up and buried my face between her firm breasts with ease.

It didn’t even take the ostentatious neckline or the complete lack of back on that dress to draw attention to the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra either. Her nipples poking through the flimsy fabric of her attire did that already.

If felt like the luckiest guy in the ‘verse having nabbed a date with this towering, glamorous MILF of an alien warrior woman. Then I saw the Brute matriarch waiting for us and I felt like the saddest sod all at the same time.

I’d been willing to keep an open mind up until now. After all, if you’d asked me just a few months ago if I could find a Sangheili in any way sexy I would have laughed at you… then probably re-arranged your teeth for the mere suggestion.

Look at me now. Balls deep on an almost nightly basis inside Sniperess who was beginning to invite her gal-pals in on the action, and a gorgeous alien cougar on my arm.

I guess the old saying was true. You never know ‘till you try.

That being said, even with my recently opened mind it was hard to imagine a ‘Baby Kong’ being any way attractive. And now, officially laying my eyes on the first female Brute I’d ever seen, I realised I wasn’t perhaps as open minded as I thought.

She had a slimmer head than that of her male counterparts, though no more feminine. Less of an ape-like face thanks to a muzzle, a little like that of a reptile or a baboon. Several interlocking teeth jutted out from between her lips, two curling down over the bottom lip and two farther back angled upward. Her fur ended around the collar leaving a leathery sort of skin over her face with chestnut coloured hair shorn into a bit of a pixie-cropped coif over her scalp.

Her body was where she kind of made up for it all though. ‘Buxom’ was a word that came to mind at the time. She reminded me a little of the ambassador’s daughter, Esere. The matriarch was built wide and muscular, and while the seductive cuts in her own attire showed off firm abs and bands of steel-like muscles lining her powerful limbs, she was at least curvy. Wide hips that tapered quite dramatically into a slim waist like the neck of an hourglass, before widening out into an impressive set of tits.

No, I’m not going to use subtle language to describe those gazungas. They were boobies in every human sentiment, from their form and shape down to the placement of the nipples that showed through the fabric of her dress. Except for their size. Because the hooters of a bigger eight foot woman had to be up-scaled to match the proportions of an eight foot woman – resulting in a massive set of melons and a soft valley between them so impressive it was like a black hole for my eyes. My gaze couldn’t help but get sucked in.

A comparison to watermelons in all but texture and firmness seemed about right. Her baps were soft, that much could be discerned by the way they wobbled as she moved forward to greet us. But they were firm enough that they didn’t jiggle like an pretentiously busty anime character.

I did my best to keep my eyes up and fixed on her crimson irises, but it was hard because her bulging, plump tits almost completely blocked her face from view, considering my low angle of observation.

‘An overhanging obstruction’ is what we in the business would have called it.

For the rest, the Brute was covered in short, dark chocolate fur, with longer wavy locks of mane-like tan coloured hair decorating her forearms to the wrists and knees down to the ankles. She was dressed in a dress that drew as much attention to her brazen curvature as physically possible. There was a very large circle cut out at the chest to show off her plump cleavage, while at the same time leaving her underside of her breasts and her belly completely open, drawing attention to a shimmering diamond piercing in the navel centred on her flat tummy. The fabric was pulled taught over the hips with a loincloth type strip falling between her thighs, hiding whether or not she’d bothered to don undies.

My money was on lack-thereof, matching the lack of bra made just as obvious as it was with Zara.

“Greetings, ambassador,” the matriarch greeted. She had a deep bass to her voice, but it was still feminine. It was laced with the same husky mature tones Zara had, albeit deeper… and twice as intimidating. Though I couldn’t figure out if that part was arousing or not.

“Lady Zestous,” Zara said smiling. Whereas the Brute spoke in an unamused tone, as if she were tending to a chore she really would prefer to delegate, Zara spoke jovially which was immediately disarming for me. If it worked on ‘Lady Zestous’ remained to be seen. “Thank you for inviting us into your beautiful home. I have been very excited to attend.”

Zestous grunted, then I saw her eyes shift down in my direction. 

“This is-…” Zara began, but Zestous cut across her.

“The Wolf of Verdun. I am aware.”

She didn’t seem particularly interested in me, and without so much as a wave, turned on her heel and led us into the keep.

I followed, partially watching the side-to-side sway and pitch of her wide hips, partially eying the keep walls for snipers.

“This is going well,” I whispered, leaning close to Zara.

“Patience,” she whispered back. “Lady Zestous is difficult to impress, but I’ve no doubt you can manage it.”

“Impress her how?”

“For now, just sit around looking delicious.”

“Look delicious? What the fuck does that mean!?”

Zara nudged me into silence as we passed through the keep’s gates. Sangheili keeps like these had been built into part homestead, part fortress to appeal to all the martial sensibilities of Zara’s people. As such, there were thick defensible walls surrounding the main buildings, with a courtyard in the centre paved and dotted with sandy sparring pits. There were farmyards spoked off to the sides, along with sheds and stables, next to various low tier quarters filling the rest of the space not dominated by the mansion to the back of the keep.

It was a towering five story building, wide and squatting over the keep like a fortress within a fortress. There were a grand set of wood and brass doors at the entrance, with tall slit-like windows indicating roughly how each sprawling floor was arranged.

Brutes crawled all over it. There were labourers in the stables and farmyards tending to animals and equipment. Others wandered from point to point doing chores while close to a dozen patrolled the keep walls armed with ruddy looking pulse carbines.

“Nice place,” I said, killing the silence with the subtlety of a point-blank shotgun blast. “Sangheili architecture, no?”

Zestous cast a brief glance over her shoulder to address me. “Yes. My husband took it during the tensions that followed the Covenant schism. The local Sangheili have been respecting my right of conquest so far, though I have no doubt they’ll attempt to take it back from me and my flock soon.”

“I assure you, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Lady Zestous,” Zara interjected.

The Brute grunted, but said nothing more on the matter. The grand doors of the keep’s main foyer parted with a similar grunt the lady of the house made, then swung slowly open with a groan of old hinges.

Inside was warm, juxtaposed against the chilly Verdun winter winds beating the snow-dusted mountainside. Grand, slightly sloped staircases swept up to an upper landing on either flank. Much of the Sangheili furniture and fixtures had been torn out, replaced with a more rustic, tribal Brute décor. Sconces were lit with flickering torches, and several war banners decorated the long foyer.

Directly ahead another set of doors opened, and out wafted the strong smell of spiced meats and other feast-grade foods.

As we approached the dining chamber, halfway down the foyer a Brute appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He moved with a lightness uncommon for his kind, carrying a tray with some sort of drink on it, offering it to his mistress with a subjugated little bow of his head.

There was a distinct difference between the servant Brute inside the main house and the Brutes working outside. Outside they wore rags, with the guards in bits of rudimentary plate armour to protect their bulk from energy weapons fire in a limited fashion, not unlike my own ODST cuirass.

The manservant standing attentively with a drinks tray in his claws wore naught but a thick leather belt and a loincloth keeping him somewhat decent.

It seemed Lady Zestous was objectifying her house staff a little.

The Brute matriarch reached over elegantly and snatched a tall glass standing on a slender stem from the offered tray. It was full almost to the brim with a sort of wine. An alien wine, I had to assume, considering it was thick, dark purple with a stiff, glutinous sort of consistency as she swirled it under her nose curiously.

“An excellent batch today,” she mused, then added over her shoulder, “Can I offer you a drink?”

Zara said “No, thank you,” fast enough that out of sheer instinct I followed along.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”

She waved her glass as if to say ‘suit yourselves’ then tipped the rim against her lips. The thick fluid inside dribbled like gelatine into her open mouth leaving streaky, light purple residue. Draining the contents, she drank it down with an audible glug, followed by a satisfied sigh. And for some weird reason I just couldn’t figure out, I was getting aroused at the sight.

The dining hall was home to a long stone slab table with thick wooden legs, on which a banquet for three dozen had been laid out. Among the glistening brass cutlery and metal plates were long platters filled with the meats of what could have been every indigenous species on Verdun. An enormous six legged pig lay charred and smoking as the centre piece, it’s horns burnt into delectable crisp treats, complete with an apple-like fruit stuffed in its tooth-lined maw. Around it were smaller roasted birds, soups made with cubed vegetables and local fish.

I felt my mouth water and stomach rumble at the sight of it. Say what you wanted about Brutes, the fuckers knew how to throw a feast.

“Please, sit. Help yourselves. Do not worry if this is beyond your meagre appetites. My people will thoroughly enjoy the leftovers,” Zestous assured as she pulled out a tall-backed stone chair at the head of the table. 

Flanking her on either side of the long narrow table were two more chairs. I broke off to take the left one, and Zara elegantly perched herself in the one opposite me. The way she sat, it was easy for her to reach under the table with her long legs and rub my calf with the heel of her hooved foot. Which is exactly what she did, throwing me a loving little look past the first fan of horns of the alien pig simmering between us.

As we were getting settled in, Zestous wasted no time in reaching forward and claiming the first spoils for herself. She chose the lead horn on the nose of the pig in front of me and twisted it free with an oily pop. A bundle of long, stringy flesh came loose just under the horn and as strangely eager as I was to try out Brute cooking, I watched and waited patiently.

Zara had prepared me for this. Zestous was the lady of the house, the alpha of the pack so to speak, so it was etiquette to let her have the first bite of a feast.

She slid her choice into her mouth and crunched down on it, then casually waved to her two guests to tuck in. And tuck in I did.

I grabbed drumsticks, steaming vegetables decorated in shaved spices and set both my hands on a particularly large spine on the back of the pig, working the appendage left and right until it broke away with a wet pop of tender, cooked flesh.

I was hardly even paying attention to what Zara and Zestous were calmly talking about. The only reason I heard the words being said was because my brain told my senses it was important.

“There is much we should discuss,” Zara said, helping herself to more measured portions of meat and some sort of purple alien tuber.

“I doubt that, ambassador,” Zestous said casually, bringing a fork with a small slice of meat to her lips. “Civil war is all but inevitable now. I would have though the Sangheili would welcome opportunity to slaughter my people.”

“Not at all. And the UNSC…”

“The humans should mind their own business. The Jiralhanae-Sangheili feud is none of their concern.”

After a few moments I suddenly stopped what I was doing, realising I was the only one making sounds as I wolfed down bite after bite. Halting mid-chew with the bony remains of a pig-spine in one hand and a few slivers of the tender, juicy meat hanging from my lips, I looked up at Zara, then over at Zestous.

Both wore an expression of bemusement as I managed to let out a muffled, “Compliments to the chef,” before cleaning myself up and chewing in a more dignified manner.

The resting-bitch-face Zestous wore at least broke when she saw I was enjoying her cook’s work. It was almost as if my enjoyment was bringing her some pleasure, and I remembered what Zara said about how she ‘enjoyed watching.’ Maybe it meant she enjoyed watching others enjoy themselves.

There was a small grin on her lips and she eyed me curiously for a moment.

“You’re certain you won’t drink with me, Wolf of Verdun?” Zestous asked, beckoning the servants to the side of the room closer. “Today’s batch has a most interesting tang.”

Tang? I thought with a cocked eyebrow.

Before I could ask, the first servant walked up to Zestous’ offered glass and whipped aside his loincloth to reveal a throbbing erection.

I stared wide eyed and mouth open in surprise – no homo. Simply because it had been the last thing I had been expecting to happen at the dinner table. Lady Zestous gave off that high and might flair of ladyship. And while she was promiscuous looking in that dress, I hardly would have believed she’d just beckon over a servant and jerk him off into her drinking glass in front of guests.

But there she was, her hand gliding up and down the thick length of alien man-meat while her free hand angled her empty glass near the tip. As confused as I was, the lewd parts of my mind had already puzzled together exactly why I’d been confusedly aroused while watching Zestous gulp down her ‘wine’ earlier.

When the servant came it wasn’t like out of a porno where he sprayed erratically all over his mistress’ face as she basked in the erotic afterglow of the power she’d just exerted upon her man. It was a very slow build up. A light purple bead of thick fluid appeared to grow at the rounded tip of the Brute’s cock. As it grew, excess dribbled into Zestous’ glass before a constant, steady stream began to build in flow. It poured steadily for several moments before just as smoothly, as if closing a tap as the Brute’s orgasm faded, the pressure subsided into a small dribble that her ladyship shook into the glass.

The servant let out a satisfied breath he had been holding in as Zestous leaned forward and licked the excess that beaded at the tip, then swirled the thick purple liquid in her glass under her nose to savour the musk.

It was quite impressive. Not Zestous’ skill in rubbing one out of her servant so quickly or accurately getting every drop of cum in the narrow glass without wasting a drop. It was more impressive how she managed to live up to the ‘people in power’ trope. It seemed those who gained power over others seemed to always have the same objective in mind. One that transcended worlds, species and even cultures. And that objective was always to gather as many young lovers to fuck as was physically possible.

Don’t believe me? Dig into the dirty affairs of any cult leader. It’s like Rule-34 of the internet. There’s sex involved, no exceptions.

The first Brute was replaced by the second, though his erection was noticeably less rigid than the previous. It hung a little lower and gave way to Zestous’ squeezing hand. And despite how rapid her rhythm of caress, the Brute seemed unable to ejaculate for her, earning an impatient snarl from the woman.

The servant growled out something sheepishly, and it made Zestous glance over at her half-full glass with a sudden grin.

“Well, in that case,” she replied in English, for whose benefit I couldn’t tell, “I simply must have another drink from you. The first was so delicious after all.”

The Brute servant seemed to protest. But just as quickly his alien words died in his throat when Zestous’ mouth, then eventually her throat clamped down on his cock. She swallowed a little more than half the length in one go, her tongue sticking out along the underside of the stem to drag the rest of him into her bit by bit with a long, throaty gulp.

It reminded me a little of Sniperess and her tight little throat going to town on me. Except my human girth was somewhat more accommodating.

This Brute was enormous, and that massive pole of meat bulged out Zestous’ throat a little more with every inch she sucked down. But she didn’t gag or retch. There wasn’t even a tear of effort. With the grace of an upper class lady delicately plucking a bit of food off the end of her fork, she kept her eyes blissfully shut and slid her face forward until her lips puckered over the furry base of the servant’s cock.

She had one hand delicately stroking the length of her glass’ stem, while the other squeezed and fondled the Brute’s balls as if trying to massage the delicious contents out into her gullet.

The servant had some impressive self-control going on. Where Sniperess had done the same to me I hadn’t wasted a second in grabbing her by the head and fucking her face with reckless abandon. But then I knew that was exactly what Sniperess craved.

This Brute clenched his fists at his sides and gasped at the ceiling, almost trying to pull away from his mistress. He knew what the lady in charge wanted as well as I knew what Sniperess always wanted from me.

He gave a low snarl, then quickly rolled his hips back, in the opposite direction of where they naturally should have been thrusting. There was a wet plop as his cock slipped from her throat which shrank back down to natural proportions and Zestous sharply caught her breath through her flaring nostrils. But her mouth remained clamped on the tip of the Brute cock as a thick vein pulsed up along the underside of the shaft.

Zestous hummed as a load of cum filled her mouth and she drank it down with eager, throaty gulps. A small dribble of the purple goo escaped the corner of her mouth and ran down the sleek hide under her chin, then clung into the mane of fur around her neck. She disregarded it, opening her eyes to peer up at her servant lovingly as she sighed with pleasure.

Finally, when the Brute servant untensed, Zestous opened her mouth and released him. He almost collapsed before his mistress, but with a stagger managed to maintain his footing and plodded breathlessly away after his colleague.

Zestous in the meantime licked her lips and the Brute matriarch turned back to us as if nothing unusual had happened. I blinked at the same time, probably for the first time since she started fellating her servant at the dinner table. Something was beginning to tell me she wasn’t drinking an alien wine at all.

Opening my mouth to pass comment, Zara swiftly kicked me in the shin under the table. She was of course absolutely right. Asking if her servants were unionised to prevent ‘overuse’ would have been totally inappropriate.

“Apologies for that,” she said lightly, still caressing the stem of her glass. “My followers all work very hard. But sometimes even the most eager young males require a little… what’s the word? Ah; encouraging.”

Her gaze panned over and fixed directly on me as she added, “Besides. A delicacy always tastes better directly from the source.”

I swallowed, but worked up the courage to say something diplomatic. “Lady Zestous, if I may take our conversation back to your previous point.” – fuck, my head is spinning and my heart’s hammering faster than it does in a firefight! – “There is no need for a feud between your people and Zara’s. As I understand it, your people want for better status on Verdun. Zara is trying to help make that happen. And the UNSC is only interested in peace. We’re all hurting after the war, all we really want to do is rebuild our lives.”

I was very careful with my vocabulary and tried as best I could to stick to the talking points I’d rehearsed with Zara on the Pelican ride over. But there was no stopping the way I made odd little high inflections at the end of each sentence and stammered over words with more than three syllables. This diplomacy stuff was not for me. Cram my ass in a drop pod and send me to hell; I’d know just what to do.

“Interesting pitch,” Zestous mused, though she seemed more interested in the food on her place. “But I’m not built for diplomacy.”

Despite it all, I managed a genuine chuckle. That did seem to get the Brute’s attention and her eyes flashed up at me curiously. “That’s something you and I have in common, ma’am… uh… miss?”

She stared.

“Milady?”

A small grin crept over her lips and she nodded gracefully. “Milady,” she repeated as if tasting the word. “I like that.”

“Keep it. Words are free. Last I checked anyway.”

I checked Zara’s face and she seemed to be grinning at her plate as she cut a bite-sized piece of alien pork. Clearly I was doing something right.

“I’ve heard many stories of you, Wolf of Verdun,” Zestous said suddenly. “Tell me. Did you really single handedly destroy the Covenant shield tower?”

“Well, I don’t like to bra-HAAAH-gg~!”

Out the corner of my eye I saw Zestous’ eyes lazily move up to look me over and I desperately tried to keep a straight face. Not exactly an easy feat, considering Zara’s toes pressed delicately against my crotch and started rubbing erotically.

Zara in the meantime kept her attention on her food, looking very casual considering she’d reached under the table and was somehow working the zipper on my pants down between her toes.

Contrary to the popular belief among marines, Sangheili didn’t actually have hooves. It just looked that way in their earlier generation of issue combat boots.

Sangheili had narrow heels with just a pair of dexterous toes and an elegant V-shaped valley between them. Zara’s boots also rode up her calves, made of a suede-type material with thin, flat soles and cuts that exposed her toes. I thought it was like a fashion thing, like chicks back home wearing toe-less high heels to show off their painted nails. It seemed Zara had worn them with a very specific purpose in mind, freeing her up to trap my zipper and easily pull it open before sliding her warm feet into my pants where she fumbled with my underwear.

My nails set into the stone surface of the table with a soft ‘skrrrttch!’ as she managed to tug open the front button of my silkies then trapped my rapidly hardening member in the valley between her toes. My erection was free in a moment, trapped against the smooth, velvety flesh of her foot as she very elegantly stroked me from the base up to the tip, and then just as smoothly back down again.

“Oh, God…” I whispered and Zestous perked up.

“Did you say something?”

“I said; its good!” I quickly blurted out. “The food, I mean. Its good. It’s so good,” I added with a shudder, then caught the sly smile on Zara’s face.

Bitch!

I did my best to scoot away, but it was impossible. The chairs were more designed for Brute bulk than my own, which made them large, and extremely heavy. Mine hadn’t moved since I sat down, and now I was trapped between the hefty backrest and Zara’s divine toes gliding up and down my member.

Thankfully Zestous had started conversing with Zara, talking about benign things like the Verdun weather and its effects on colony crops. Honestly I don’t think I could have joined in without cursing or moaning under my breath, so I kept my lips pursed and my nails dug into the table.

Her tempo increased as she built up confidence that I wasn’t going to be able to wiggle away or say anything that would get us caught. Not that I thought Zestous would mind, given she was jerking off and deep-throating her own servants at the table.

What terrified me was being showy enough that Zestous might get horny and join in!

Zara tightened her toes around the sides of my shaft then dragged her foot up along the underside of my cock. She toyed with the tip for a moment, which almost made me gasp out loud, then she slid her way back down to the base, before caressing the shaft again.

I was clenched, desperately holding back the desire to just cum for her. It’s clearly what Zara wanted. The way she was moving, she was milking me with her feet, trying hard to get me to spray the underside of Lady Zestous’ table. But I had some willpower left… willpower that was almost completely lost when I glanced up and saw the half-lidded look Zara was giving me. It was a look that could have stopped a bullet, then made said bulled split open and ejaculate its lead contents all over the place.

Unable to take any more, I purposely slid my arm down the edge of the table and brushed my fork onto the floor where it clattered with a metallic little tinkle on the stone.

“Oh! Clumsy me! Won’t be a minute!” I announced altogether too loudly to be casual.

Then shoving Zara’s foot away from my erection with both hands, I dropped out of sight to ‘look for my fallen cutlery.’ I imagined somewhere above Zestous was narrowing her eyes suspiciously at my vacant seat. But if she suspected shenanigans, she didn’t voice it.

Silent as a ninja, I crept under the table towards Zara’s gorgeous bare legs. Time to see how she fucking liked it.

She could have fought and struggled as I grabbed her calves and forcefully un-crossed her legs, but she let it happen. I forced apart her thighs and slid my hand up along the smooth flesh, pushing aside the long dress as I went. In the dimness underneath the table it was hard to see, but easy to smell her feminine musk. It was sweet, pleasant and intoxicating, drawing me closer with the same eagerness I often found myself following Sniperess into an empty barracks or the showers. And peering closer I saw, as I had suspected, Zara hadn’t worn underwear. 

Naughty girl. And naughty girls got punished. Though I figured she was going to enjoy the punishment.

“The snow was light this winter,” Zestous said. “Clearing the fields for spring should be easy at least.”

“I agree. I’ve heard some winters Verdun freezes over ha-HAAAAH-rrd~!”

It was Zara’s turn to dig her nails into the tabletop as she shut her eyes, trying to keep her sudden gasp for air subtle. But there was no stopping the way her hips slid forward, willingly pressing her pussy tighter against my mouth as I licked her slit form base to tip.

“Perhaps if harvests are bountiful this year your people will share more with my people,” Zestous continued to converse. “It would save us having to forage and hunt to feed ourselves.”

“I-I assure you-hooooh~. I can negoti-eeh-ate a better share a-and wage f – ohgods – for your people.” Zara trailed off into a little whimper before she gulped down a breath and added, “All you have t-to do is o-open a discussion with th-the colony elders~!”

Her voice went into a suddenly high inflection, one eye fluttering a little narrower than the other as her mandibles clenched down on the moan desperate to escape her throat.

I worked my tongue back down the way it had come, mingling my fluids with her own into a swirling soup that pooled in her crotch, remembering to work the crossways slit of her alien pussy as well. Just more erogenous little details to pay attention to, but I’d had plenty of practice with Sniperess and she never complained.

Going by the way Zara was quietly panting and closing her thighs eagerly against my cheeks, it seemed the last thing she wanted to do was complain.

“Are you well, ambassador?” Zestous asked somewhere above with only mild interest before her teeth ripped into a dripping piece of meat.

“Fine~!” she sang just a little louder than she intended. “It’s just… the dinner, Lady Zestous. It’s delicious.” Her back arched off the backrest of her chair as I delved the tip of my tongue into her sweet little opening that winked invitingly. “Oh, so delicious~! I want more.”

She reached under the table at the same time and I felt her fingers slide through my hair encouragingly.

“You are of course free to help yourself, ambassador. Have you found your cutlery yet, Wolf of Verdun?” Zestous suddenly announced.

I jerked my head backwards and glanced over, feeling a mixture of saliva and Zara’s arousal dribble down my chin. Zestous hadn’t poked her head under the table to look, so I hadn’t been caught. But I did notice something unusual about her.

Zestous’ right hand had slipped under the table and moved up her bare inner thigh. And with her loincloth pulled aside over one of her thighs, it was easy to see that she too hadn’t worn underwear to dinner. And she had two fingers pressed against the furry cleft where her thick thighs met in the middle.

She was tracing small circles across the soft, aroused lips of her labia. With each lateral motion she exposed the tender, dark flesh glistening with excitement. And eventually, spearing open those thick, furry lips, she pressed a fingertip to the approximate area where I imagined her clit was before the feverish little circular massage continued.

“Um… not yet,” I answered.

“Well get back to it then. That fork wasn’t cheap.”

The urgency in Zestous’ voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She knew something was up. She wasn’t concerned about the fork at all!

The Brute’s thick fingers plunged into her own canal with a sopping wet noise that was as loud and lewd as her fingering motions.

“I said, get back to it, Wolf of Verdun,” she added, a sense of desperate longing entering her voice.

When I didn’t get back to licking as instructed, instead watching stunned as the Brute leaned forward a little, parting her thighs some more to finger-bang herself with a bit extra vigour, Zara reached under the table and took me by the cheek. With a single swivelling action, she pulled me out from under the table until I was sitting on my knees with my back to Zestous.

There was definitely no hiding now. But glancing over my shoulder I saw Lady Zestous relish in that fact.

She’d turned to emerge out from under the table as well and had cocked one heel up onto the edge of her seat. From this new open legged position, she watched with passion burning in her crimson eyes, slipping a second finger between the chocolate furred lips of her sodden snatch. A small pool of arousal formed on her chair, matted the sleek brown fur between her thighs and speckled the edge of the table just under her plate.

But she clearly didn’t care much for eating anymore as she watched me closely, silently egging me on.

“You heard the good lady, Wolfe,” Zara said coyly. “Back to work.”

Fuck it, right? This was after all what I’d been dragged along to dinner for. So, I turned my head back to Zara and pressed my lips against her alien quim. 

She gasped more openly and moaned with delight, the petals of her body opening tenderly for my tongue as I worked her cross-slit from the base, up over her winking, tight opening and toyed with the sensitive nub of flesh just above. I delved up under the clitoral hood and explored every inch of her womanhood. My hands felt along the sleek flesh of her thighs and I heard a ticklish giggle between her heartening moans.

Diplomacy had officially fallen to the wayside, and it was finally time for some drastic action. Though instead of battle-weary grunts and gunfire, my ears were treated to Zara’s delightfully pleasured cries and Zestous’ heavy breaths mixed with the slippery noises of her fingers.

“That’s it.” Lady Zestous groaned, as did the chair as she squirmed against her own touch. “Eat her. Show this Sangheili whore who’s boss.” 

I slid my tongue a little deeper into her snatch and Zara gasped louder again rolling her hips to line her pussy up with my mouth a bit better. She grabbed my head with one hand, tangling her fingers into my hair and tugged hard enough that it was almost painful. Her thighs rested over my shoulders and pressed tighter against my cheeks as her heels dug into the small of my back.

She shuddered against me, swallowing several breaths as I opened my eyes and peered up to catch the same gorgeous facial expression I’d seen on Sniperess in the past. Her eyes were blissfully shut and a blush formed across her mandibles which hung slack with pleasure. Her free hand slicked back her blue hair as she tipped her head back, savouring the reeling electric shocks of ecstasy racing through her body with a dignified little moan.

She remained clenched for a long time, then very slowly relaxed in my grip, allowing me to finally pull my mouth from between her thighs. A small string of saliva connected my lips to hers, her pussy lips closed slowly, the tender blue flesh glistening in the aftermath of a creamy orgasm. I saw dark wet spots decorating the skirt portion of her dress pooled under her ass as I lovingly traced a line of kisses down her sleek inner thigh.

Zara moaned, still stroking the top of my head. “Oh, Gods, Wolfe. Please, no more. You’ll drive me crazy!”

While I had no intention of stopping, eventually I had to in order to turn my head when I heard Zestous climb to her feet.

“Enough of this,” she said with a needy growl. “I cannot wait for my dessert.”

“Dessert? Oh, shi-…”

I was turning to face her as she dropped to her knees in front of me, and Zara wrapped her hands around me at the same time. She caught my erection, still throbbing in the air after the little pleasured display Zara had given, between two fingers to hold it still while Zestous eased forward and stuck out her tongue.

It was broad and fla;, dark in colour; wet, smooth and slippery in texture as it caught the underside of my shaft and soothed all the way up to the tip where she gave the glans a wet little swirl. It took my breath away and I almost choked when Lady Zestous went down again, angling her face to better lick my length again. Only her tongue touched me, and it worshipped every inch leaving my cock glistening in the open air.

Not only did it feel amazing, but the sight of her, as mildly off-putting as the Brute woman was, bobbing back and forth in order to make love to my erection with her tongue almost set me off. A small bead of precum formed on the tip and eying it, she eagerly licked it up, purring with approval.

I quickly raised a finger to point out, “H-hey! I thought you were just into watching!”

“That is exactly what I’m going to do,” Zestous said sternly. Groping her large breasts through the top half of her skimpy dress, she slid the small cavity between them down over the tip of my cock. Her fur bristled my wet, slippery length right down to the base, with the tip poking out of her tight cleavage. “I’m going to watch you have your dirty way with my mammaries. 

“Now get to work,” she added, as if I were even remotely capable of resisting these sneaky feminine wiles of hers.

I stood practically upright, and Lady Zestous was large enough that all I had to do was rock my hips back and forth to start fucking her cleavage. She was leaned back a bit to accommodate, watching with a what was obviously coy disdain. She had her own little roleplay going on, pretending this filthy, lowly human had just walked in and was defiling her lovely titties at her dinner table.

Happy enough to accommodate, I set one hand on her slender, muscular throat while the other felt the softness of her right breast through her dress. The hard, meaty nipple felt rigid against my palm through the fabric and while part of me appreciated the look of her clothed body, another part of me wanted to rip her top off.

But that required me to stop what I was doing, and that simply wasn’t going to happen.

I’d never been one to get off on the feel of fur, but Zestous was soft and silky to the touch. The firmness of her heavy breasts was just perfect, forming a tight little pillowy cavity between them. It wasn’t perhaps as tight as Sniperess throat, but it was just the right texture and firmness that it felt amazing all the same.

Zestous was watching in fascination in the meantime as the tip of my cock popped out of her cleavage, then quickly disappeared back inside again. “That’s it,” she growled in a low tone. “Take me. Defile my body. Fuck my breasts, you wretched invader. Use me for your pleasure in my own home.”

Whoever taught Zestous English definitely deserved a medal. And if it wasn’t obvious she was roleplaying as a helpless piece of fuckmeat under the thumb of a barbaric human invader before, it was keenly obviously now.

Kind of like when I was with Mistress after butchering her more mutinous crew after the Prosperity hand-over, the thought of being exactly that was morbidly sexy and I quickly felt my orgasm close in.

I wasn’t sure how Zara could tell, whether it was my thrusts growing more erratic or the subtle swelling in my glans as they popped out of Zestous’ furry cleavage more rapidly, but Zara could tell I was close. She sidled in behind, soft breasts pressing against my back comfortingly. One hand slid under my shirt and up over my chest while the other grasped my member as it slipped from between Zestous’ boobs. Her hand took over from there, long silky soft fingers wrapping around my erection and lovingly stroking up and down. Her breath was warm on my face as her mandibles gently touched my cheek.

Zestous saw what was happening and immediately fell in line. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, and opened her mouth eagerly. Bearing those large teeth designed for ripping through the meat of her prey was partially horrifying. But seeing her stick out her tongue, dutifully ready to accept my essence as Zara stroked my length like it was the action of an M90 shotgun, was pretty hot at the same time.

Her face was so close to the crown, mouth so eager to taste me that her breath brushed my glans and between Zara’s silky grip and the sight of this mighty alien matriarch prostrating herself before my cock, there was no holding back the torrent.

My cock exploded like a volcano, hot magma splashing all across Lady Zestous’ face. The sudden shot was clearly not something she was used to, given her Brute servants came for her slow and steady – be it natural or trained discipline for the sheer purpose of filling her glass. When I came, I came the traditional human method. Bullets of cum hit the Brute with a headshot so accurate my marksmanship instructor in boot would have been proud of Zara’s aim.

The first rope of cum made Zestous flinch like she’d been shocked, but she let it drape over her muzzle all the same as she opened her maw a bit wider to accommodate. The next hit her in the roof of the mouth. Another long line of pearly white goo fell into the back of her throat and formed a puddle over her tongue. Some of it dribbled from the corner of her mouth as the next couple of spurts, weakening as time went on, splashed her chin, her throat and then finally dribbled into the small cavity between her breasts. The rest dribbled down over Zara’s fingers as her hand slowed down, and finally idled.

Zestous seemed to fully indulge in the explosion she’d had a hand in creating. One of her eyes was closed as my jizz clung to her long eyelashes. But the other was open wide enough to betray her vacant stare as she drew irregular, short breaths. A long shudder ran from her spine down through her extremities and I saw her hips move on their own accord. Through her soft moan gargling in the back of her throat as she swirled my cum around her tongue, there was a wet little ‘sploosh’ followed by a small puddle of feminine fluids gathering on the ground between her knees.

Finally closing her mouth, Zestous made a show of gulping my load down. One hand touched her sternum, just below her breasts as she focused entirely of the warm, slippery load sliding down her gullet and into her belly. Then she licked what had gathered on her lips and chin up for good measure, gobbling it all down with a satisfied sigh while wiping the rest from her eye.

I had to admit, the ribbons of cum I’d shot over her face and into her hair made the Brute woman look at least twenty-percent more fuckable. But if she wanted seconds, she was going to have to give me a fifteen-minute break at least.

“Wonderful,” she breathed. “Simply exquisite. It’s been a long time since the taste of a man has left me so… satisfied.”

Somewhere behind me I heard a husky feminine chuckle.

“So, Lady Zestous,” Zara said warmly as her tongue slipped out between her mandibles and licked up my cum decorating her long fingers. “Can I count on you to organise a sit-down for some civil discourse between our people?”

Zestous gave a loud huff, and for a second I thought she was still going to decline. But regardless of the sound she made, she scooped up a glob of my cum from where it pooled in her tight cleavage and slid the fingers between her smiling lips, savouring the taste with a soft sigh.

“I suppose I can,” she said. Then added with seductively narrowed eyes, setting her claws in my thigh, “So long as this delicious morsel comes along to serve refreshments.”