== 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.
###
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.
