Magos-Interrogator A-113-Jane Jones, your wife.

"Yes love?" you ask, knowing that warm and soft hand with it's delicate fingers MADE for working on cogitators and typing up reports which strokes your shoulder belongs to Magos-Interrogator A-113-Jane Jones, your wife.

"You looked shocked and appalled, what is wrong, is Reggie involved after all?" She asks, her voice a clear and clean like it was 50 years ago ever since she replaced her vocal cords that were scarred by poison gas on Denier Prime with cloned tissue last year.

"Not sure yet, but I just realized that according to unwarped time I am over 500 years old." You mutter as she lays a kiss across the nape of your neck. "That is VERY distracting Jane..." You mutter leaning back against her, as you were half expecting, exposed breasts.

"It's supposed to be hot stuff, we haven't had sex in a week while we have been working in the underhive, and finally being alone in a safe place has left me horny as hell." Jane says reaching around to stroke your cock through your pants.

You feel your cock stiffen as you finally allow yourself to partially relax. It has been one of your longest droughts since you and Jane got married for political reasons on a mission 75 years ago. Oh sure, there was that time you were trapped on the Deathworld of Raphael and couldn't even take your space suits off for a month: by the God-Emperor what a memory: but other than that fiasco you have managed to 'do it' almost every day for the past 75 years. Your not sure on the exact specifics, Jane could explain it better, but something about living every day with the risk of getting shot in the head by heretics, mutants and worse means you both almost always come to bed horny...