Aion of Olympio Ch. 04

== 4 -- Neatly Nesting ==

Aion kept his glittering cover hidden during the warp slip to Hyperion Station. Past the warp dock's absorption-mat, the psycher Robin dipped into a devouring basin and stretched his metaphorical arc-dust wings, floating in wide jumps over the heads of envious hunks.

He gave himself a flex in the nearest mirrored wall. A gulp of precum squirted toward the crowd below.

Hyperion was an old station, some of its sub-habitats from the original settling of Olympio.

Maybe that's why he kept seeing omens of age - the shades of ancient docks - as dust tickled between his toes.

A hundred bright arches of fabric, dozens of kilometers long, inset with organic, rainbow hued patterns were interwoven to build the Talos habitat. Lit spires of concretanium stretched between them, toward the nacreous gleam of the Prokyo asteroid belt.

The remains of Prokyobaran itself hung above, reflecting the iridescence of the cosmic welkin in purple hues with its smooth, oil-sheen surface.

Aion touched down, commanded his dust invisible again, and stepped into the pearly liquid of a flux stream.

He stepped out with two other dudes, absentmindedly tracing the lower back of a cute Dove adonis as he walked onward.

Another jump brought him to a plateau, high enough to make the fabric overhead seem like a roof. The teardrop shapes of speeders zipping overhead, pointy end forward, left prismatic streaks in their wake.

He got observed immediately, a Brain on a high pole freezing him with a delusion of a thickly thighed white hunk fucking the bulging pecs of the Dove muscleteen Aion had just touched after the previous flux ride.

The high platform was decorated with faux ruins of white marble. Geometric xeno-moss covered low walls along the bright red paths that curved between benches under perfectly straight, fractal trees.

Knights patrolled the park with their well-over-2m (6'7'') frames. No black gloves but most had a black wand of half a dick's length attached to the hip and various phantomic equipment pieces flittered near their sensory organs. Everybody here was disciplined.

A few young adonises in expensive jewelry with semi-soft dicks chased each other around a Quogball field, their backs, pecs and asses red from paddle strikes. The drone orb bounced between quadrants, evading better than the hunk's glutes.

Aion made his way to the cluster of gothic spires at the center.

He was stopped at a moat of dark blue water where a rainbow bridge was guarded by four knights.

"Psycher message for Hadrian the Pigeon," Aion said and was roughly dragged into a surprisingly gentle kiss by the much taller muscleman. He was released with a slap on the ass.

The interior of the building sprawled with radiant patterns, growing along the muted walls.

At first the muscleteen thought the place was full of moths, so strong was their presence. Then he walked through a swarm to find them immaterial. Arc-dust shifted invisibly on his skin as the omen faded.

The elevator was all mirrors, with one side being a screen that showed the outside as he rose. He absentmindedly teased his dickhead.

An empty corridor with several doors to either side. Deep green light and a strange, surreal sensation. The mildly dissociative effect of moving past a lot of reality scrubbers.

Hadrian was the captain of a transporter, or maybe a whole fleet. He was from Olympio Station itself and only temporarily staying here. He'd have the money for a custom transmundane scenario, obviously.

Aion knocked on the door and was greeted by a light brown muscleman of about 180 centimeter (5'11'') with wide gold fabric bands on his wrists and a slim one around the base of his dick that slapped his abs with a nod. A disciplined Pigeon with a tightly braided, seafoam mohawk.

He had a singular fuck strip on his chest from mating sometime in the last 30 days. More than 200 days without improper cumming, according to the echo pip on his brow.

"Cunt-boy Aion, herald. Is this Hadrian's room?"

"Cumshot, cunt, it fucking is," the hunk said. "I'm his adjunct, dick-whore Titus. The captain is in a custom scenario. Should be taking a break in five. Come in."

Aion leaned in for a quick kiss, feeling the tiny tingle as his ID was confirmed, and followed the muscleman into the antechamber.

Titus had a long-stretched nimblesong constellation running up his spine, his fuck-mark barely noticeable among the blue-red-purple splotches and twinkling stars.

Aion froze.

There were eyes everywhere. Omens had never felt disturbing like this. Eyes lined the ceiling and hung as grapes. He vaguely recalled the many meanings of eye-related dust omen. Which one applied? Vigilance?

"So you're some kind of bodyguard and shit, sir?"

Titus dropped into a leather chair. "Figured that the fuck out, huh? Yeah, I'm following Hadrian around. He works for the governess of Panacea-77."

"Uh, never fucking heard of it. Sorry."

The creepy eyes faded or retreated into the walls. He'd guessed what they'd wanted to tell him.

Titus had been watching a wrestling match, which took up most of the wall across the leather seat. Urban was going up against a newcomer, rolling around with semi-hard dicks rubbing on each other's faces.

The Robin knelt down to swallow as much cock as possible, letting precum and throat-slick guide the bodyguard's shaft down his esophagus. An imperceptible trickle of arc-dust helped him hold his breath for more than the polite amount of shaft-pumps.

Titus laid one hand on the psycher's head. "Panacea-77's a small asteroid station, mostly docks. Ten thousand dudes, but only five hundred really live there. Maybe a dozen women." He leaned back and sighed gently, letting Aion bob up and down the whole length. "Sit on it?"

Aion felt his wet hole flex, let the dick pop from his throat and sat on Titus' rod, face to face.

"Ah sorry," Titus said as Aion slid down. "Just had lunch. Let me freshen the fuck up."

He pulled up a pack of neutral-strips, unwrapped one and placed it on his tongue. He offered Aion another, which the teen-psycher took. They both folded the 2.9-dimensional plastilium cover along the indication to make them disappear.

With neutralized mouths, they kissed to the cheer of the projected wrestling audience as the newcomer pulled the legendary Urban into a tight, unbreakable spladle. The master wrestler's clenched ass, flopping balls, rising dick and tortured face took up the whole wall.

Aion got pulled back into the kiss and bobbed on the Pigeon's rod.

"So you two are a big deal, huh, sir?"

Titus reclined with his hands behind his head. He shrugged. "Unimportant fucks don't get secret messages for the League of Heralds."

It was Aion's turn to shrug. "I've met some assholes who are just paranoid and pay for a fucking pie recipe."

Titus chuckled and started humping from below.

The fuck was just what Aion had needed to combat the horny urges a bit. When the door to Hadrian's room unlocked, he slowly slipped off Titus with a goodbye, flexed his hole shut and walked over.

The content of the room was a blur until he had stepped through the reality scrubber, briefly feeling free falling.

He arrived on a sandy beach, planetside. The shallow red ocean was bubbling. A single, immense sun dominated the sky.

Hadrian was sprawling on a huge, golden mattress under an umbrella suspended on nothing. His physique of bio-age 30 was excessively muscled. He had amber orange hair and a matching septum ring. He also wore a golden circlet with the Terra emblem but Aion didn't know of he was actual earth-folk or this was part of his custom scenario. Same with the five mate-marks on Hadrian's chest.

Was that hunk really quintuple-mated?

Definitely part of the simulacrum were the three women in thin, nearly transparent robes, holding plates of fruit, wine and honey dips.

"Fuck-master? A message from this cunt-boy."

Hadrian waved him closer. His abs were covered in streaks of precum.

Aion dipped into the psycher-pulses and caught a vision of Hadrian's grimacing face as he ejaculated into a woman, crying for joy. And another, more recent one of him sixty-nining with Titus but staying disciplined.

"Do you know where the fuck we are, cunt?"

Aion knelt down. "Under a dome on Stelios, going by the sun and shit. Deep in the system. The Olympio station would be fucking visible at night."

"Ever been?"

"Nope." Aion licked across the glistening abs and down along the shaft, then kissed the balls and slid his mouth up along the 28 centimeter (11'') rod to give the head a swirl.

Hadrian eventually dragged him into a kiss and a package left Aion's brain, leaving the males spasming on top of each other for a minute.

"Shit, that's a lot," Hadrian said. "Not gonna jizz about it but I'll wrap up this scenario. Break over. See you, cunt-boy."

"Got it, sir. Bye."

Aion walked out, passed the disorienting threshold, gave Titus a nod and left. He had more packs to deliver, but there was a target on the way, he'd never gotten around to visiting. And unlike a vacation on the real planet Stelios he didn't have to cross half the system to get there.

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From "An Overview of the Harmonious Expanse", chapter 2:

The traveler order of the Robins is a mid-way order, usually arriving when a system's infrastructure has been established but only a fraction of area is claimed. Their focus on communication and transport makes them easy partners for the Penguin and Dipper orders, while their arrival ships tend to lack heavy equipment and advanced processing functions, which are contracted from Owls or Pigeons after the latter's arrival.

###

Aion wandered beneath the bulky profiles of cargo ferries drifting above the plaza. More and more of the erect musclemen rubbing him in passing were marked with the Robin symbol on either side of the neck.

Like many public buildings on Hyperion, the Robins' Nest was a tall cluster of intersecting bulbs of silky fabric. Polychromatic domes shimmered with chaotic struts that kept the breathing cloth from shifting too far out of shape.

With enough space to hold hundreds of Robins at the same time, the nest rose slightly over its surroundings.

Aion got observed, freezing as he felt himself transported between the legs of a dark-skinned muscleman in a dim dorm corridor, where other hunks passed. The dude's white nose ring turned clear as he cried out, void-jizzing down at the ground, nearly solid shots of cum splashing between his large feet.

Aion was released and squeezed out the drizzle of precum on his rod for a bent-over slurp as he stepped through the entrance membrane.

The nest's lobby had a lot of food options and Aion took his time picking.

Straight ahead was an amphitheater. To the left were stairs up to the gyms with enough space and equipment to train 500 hunks at once. The clanking of massive weights and loud voices of musclemen echoed down as collective tons of iron were moved around.

Underneath were services like hair styling, spectralism and an accessory store. To the right was the nu-agent collection where five liberated exchanged empty kappa vials amid the bubbling tubes holding dormant musclemen, barely visible in the brown kappa sauce.

Two streams of music were offered by the nests' Brain. A majestic, aerie and minimal one, which Aion picked, and an upbeat, fast rap for the gym area.

A sensation like a cool gust of air traveled across the muscleteen's shoulder blades. He turned around just as someone was about to tap him there.

"Hi," Aion said. "What the fuck's up?"

The fellow Robin crouched down to give Aion's dick ten headbobbing sucks, halfway down the shaft.

The muscleman was about 30, black, disciplined and as muscular as they came. His mohawk in mulberry purple was narrow but thickened by the texture of his hair. Sweatbands on his biceps had a fainter violet color.

He was drenched in sweat and breathing hard even as he greeted the muscleteen's dick. His own erection was just fully hardening. Aion felt the pull at the back of his head as he was treated to a psycher-vision of the hunk finishing a 300kg lift upstairs with devastating power, spotting Aion and waltzing on down.

Finally the black stranger got up. "I'm ass-whore Justus."

"Aion, teen-cunt," the herald said. "I'm not from this nest, originally."

"And you're dusty."

Aion checked himself but his glitter layer was still invisible. And he hadn't used arc-dust either.

"You're fucking psychic," Aion guessed.

Justus grinned. "Cumshot, could see it on you. Level 5 bio-psycher. Don't jizz, boy, I'm not going to ask for a high and shit. I'm already a homo."

"Me too," Aion said. "Uh, I was going to grab lunch. Wanna join?"

"Sure as fuck."

They deliberated their option. Aion let himself get led to a narrow bar with little more than a long counter. Green tinted glass kept the outside blurry. The fabric of the exterior wall billowed gracefully as they sat next to each other. Mirror walls reflected them and the two dick-riding couples taking lunch near them.

The well-cushioned leather barstools made it easy to sit while mutually fucking, Aion and Justus pressing their hips together, each dick in the other's ass.

As they chatted, Aion chose his psy-bubble to let him taste Ny-algae soup, fried Stelios oozazo and glazed sepia treats as he downed his shake, gulp by gulp. The older Robin had a less luxurious meal of venusian wax shrimp. Justus and the muscleteen gave each other's nipples light strokes between sludge sips.

Justus happily greeted another Robin entering and beckoned him to the table.

The newcomer was disciplined, young and slightly taller than Aion, with white skin, gently tanned. His mohawk was olive. An olive mating-mark was displayed on his chest. He wore a gold choker and a gold circlet with a sanguine gem.

"Hey Leo," Justus said as the young muscleman took a seat across them. "This is cunt-boy Aion from Jove. Aion, dick-bitch Leo got unliberated a fucking week ago."

"Fag you. I've been out a month," Leo said with a charming smirk. "You just didn't fucking see me cause I'm fresh as balls out of the kappa tube." He flexed. "I'm 18 bio-age again, faggers. Felt like a restart after twenty years of liberation."

His smile carried infectious joy, thanks to the glinting sanguine gem on his forehead.

With an involuntary giggle, Aion nodded. "Been a fucking while since I wasn't a teen."

He leaned over to exchange a tongue kiss with Leo and tested for psycher-pulses. He was hit by the vision of Leo cry-groaning as he jizzed his load into a hunk's ass with violent spasms. Then another vision of his head between a lady's thighs, licking pussy. Then another of the adonis' dorm mates walking in no him secretly fucking his own ass.

"Only just got the fuck out and already mated with a lady," Aion said with a nod at the white muscleteen's chest.

"Cumshot," Leo said. "I'm back on top, cunt. With some luck I'm scoring again today."

"Big party?" Justus asked. "Hey, Aion, you should give Leo a ride. You'll fucking love it."

Aion took a good look at Leo's dick. Probably just 23 centimeter (9'') or so with a few studs pierced like a ladder along the shaft. The psycher's hole flexed as he slipped off Justus and pulled his own dick out of the black, purple-haired hunk's hole.

Aion walked around the table and sat on Leo's erection with his back to the other Robin-teen. The rub of the studs along his insides reminded him why he was such a cunt-bitch.

"Nice cock, fuck-master Leo," the psycher said.

Then the modifications kicked in, adding pulsations and thickening knots along the shaft. Only now did Aion notice the Hecate-alteration bracelet on Leo's ankle. No way could a recently liberated dude afford an arc-dust item. Free trial? Gift from an elder? Either way, Aion went insane with lust as the dick-mods violated his guts perfectly.

"You know what would be funny," Justus said. "If you fagged right now."

"Not gonna happen," Leo said. "Being liberated teaches you discipline. I'm not fucking blowing my chances at pussy today."

"What if you got high?" Justus asked, his tone already giving away too much.

Leo's dick softened, then re-hardened, as if to prove he wasn't going to fag his load away. "Nah. Nothing can make me lose control and shit."

Aion grinned at Justus and -- via the mirror walls -- at Leo. "A fuckable male is always up for a challenge, right?"

A tiny sprinkle of glitter dripped off his arm and faded away as arc-dust was used up. Leo's eyes widened. He rapidly looked between all the musclemen in the room, then gripped Aion's hips and fucked harder, nearly slipping off the stool.

"F-fffuuuuhhhh."

After as much pleasure as he could bear, Aion requested the time and sensed a response. He leaned down and lapped up his own precum. "Gotta fucking bail. Stay disciplined, Leo, hehe. Justus, take good care of his dick."

Justus got up to take over riding-duty. "Next time you check by this nest, I'll tell you all about how Leo fagged in my hole."

Leo grunted angry. "Fag you. Hope you two void-jizz. F-fuck, by the arc. Being high is... fuck."

Aion exited the bar to find that the musclemen in the lobby were on one knee, loosely forming a corridor to the nest's exit. The scent of cinnamon danced in his nostrils. He was filled with the melancholic exhilaration of hearing a long forgotten, once-favorite song. His toes comfortably cooled as if sinking into shaded sand.

The nest's caretaker was heading out. A priestess who's name the herald didn't know.

She wore a flowing yellow robe with the Robin emblem embroidered in a few places. Her arc-dust was collected around her legs as if she floated on top of it. She was accompanied by two younger maidens.

Aion knelt and sucked his dickhead dry. A pull on his scalp warned him of something imminent, invisible dust lightly prickling on his ears. A flittering of omens.

He looked up. One of the maidens was hovering his way. She wore more formfitting, soft blue robes that trailer her naked feet. The smell of manly odors and kappa fluid vanished. The ambient temperature fell to something a little too chilly for Aion. He was struck by the relaxing sensation of a good stretch.

"Your head is full of messages," the maiden said. "You must be a herald."

Aion looked up. "Yes, honorable lady. None for her Excellency, though. Just passing through."

She reached out a bit, as if grasping at something between her and the muscleteen. "You... ran into my cousin, Magna."

"Yes, honorable lady."

She briefly closed her eyes. "Your path didn't lead to the citadel."

"I met her highness at the Athenaeum, randomly."

"Hm, randomly? What is she up to? Always something new with the council. Be on your way then."

She dissolved into a polychromatic blur and reassembled next to the priestess and the other maiden who were just leaving the nest.

Magna worked for the council directly? The council of queens on Olympio station? Aion was glad he had dropped off that message already. He was used to meeting important people but this felt above his paygrade.

As the hunks across the lobby rose, he headed out to drop off a dataset at an architect's office nearby.

But not without stopping at a street vendor. He wanted a junctura constellation. A little link to his sister, just in case, splotches and twinkling stars on his forearm.

###

From "An Overview of the Harmonious Expanse", chapter 2:

Over the decades after arrival, traveling orders lose their specializations and quirks, merging into cultures on a habitat by habitat basis -- with notable exceptions. They then serve as extended families to individuals and embassies of their habitats and companies for administrations.

###

Asteroids and their fragments glinted overhead. Long trails of precious metal and dust streaked the stellar clouds with shimmering curves as the loosened matter got funneled into forges and processors.