I want this.It took time for the Warrior, working on its own, to strip away the last of her protective garments. Aydona fought the whole time, the queasy awareness of her own growing arousal lending her a desperate, animal strength, but it was like trying to wrestle out from beneath a mountain. As she wriggled fruitlessly in the Tyranid's iron grip, her gaze was dragged irresistibly back to the bloated cock between its legs, sheathed with undulating ridges of chitin and wrapped in veins as thick as her little finger. That, and the swollen, fist-sized testes which hung at its base, pulsing with desperate intent.That's going to be inside me, she thought dizzily. The Fleetmistress could feel her body reacting of its own accord, her skin flushing red, heat pooling in her belly. It's going to push that thing into my body and...
Around her, resistance was solidifying; the harder the Eldar struck, the harder Eros fought, as if drawn by the promise of strong mothers for their offspring. Soon Tyranids pressed in from every angle, forming a solid wall of blades and teeth and drooling, dripping phalli. One Banshee fell, then a second; a third took a glancing blow which ruptured her helm and left her exposed to the dense soup of contagions in the air. The woman staggered and let out a low moan, then tore off the remains of her helmet to reveal a face wild-eyed and flushed with arousal."I need - I can't help - Isha's love, First Exarch, why are we fighting them?" She cried, already clawing at the clasps and seals of her armour. "They will give us children! Children, after so long!"