Engagement

Eythimerkuris

Engagement

Blurb

Earth has been conquered by the female-led Shil’vati Imperium, one of the 3 great galactic powers. Humanity is the odd-ball with a 1:1 female-to-male ratio. Most other alien races are closer to 8:1 female-to-male.

Ten years after the invasion, human software engineer Sten takes a job on the alien world of Dirt. Where he is tasked with improving a dating app. Join him as he deals with cross-species culture shock, work ethics and the complexities of dating in a female-dominated culture.

Note: Engagement is intended for mature readers only. It contains explicit language and sexual content. All characters depicted in adult situations are consenting adults and 18 years of age or older.
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life, Alien/Human Relationships, Interspecies Romance, Alien Sex, Cunnilingus, Light Dom/sub, Anal, Anal Plug, Harems.

Sexy Space Babes

Engagement is set in the Sexy Space Babes (SSB) universe by BlueFishcake. You don’t need to have read any SSB first, but there are some small nuances you might miss in Engagement if you havn’t.
- Sexy Space Babes
- Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons

The SSB universe is owned by BlueFishcake, this is just a tale within it.

Engagement place in the same ISRP-microverse as:
- Digging Up Dirt by Between_The_Space
- New Life? by Thethinggoboomboom

Unless otherwise specified, all conversations are in Shil. All years, measurements, etc. are in pre-invasion earth standards. I’ve tried to stay within canon. If I’ve missed something, please let me know.

I hope you enjoy!

- Eythimerkuris

Chapter 1 - Moving Day

There’s a universal, soul-crushing truth that transcends culture, language, and even, as I’ve discovered, species. Moving house suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks. It is, without exaggeration, a special kind of hell that spans cities, continents, and I can confirm, planets. I should know; I’ve done it enough times.

It’s always the same tedious symphony of cardboard boxes, the frantic search for the one roll of packing tape that inevitably vanishes, and the slow, disheartening process of dismantling a life into a collection of objects and putting those objects into boxes. Hoping they won’t be broken when you then have to unpack them. Moving within the same city is bad enough, but moving between continents is a whole other layer of hell. And that was before the Shil’vati arrived and added their own special dimension of bureaucratic torment to the process.

My first move taught me the cardinal rule of international relocation: sell everything, ship nothing. The hidden costs after shipping always kill you. Your new home country will inevitably have different power standards and connectors, at a minimum. The first time I moved internationally - even the bed sizes were different. I couldn’t buy new fitted sheets for my old mattress or find a compatible frame. Eventually, I ended up having to buy a whole new bed.

It’s far simpler to just take the cash equivalent for any relocation package and start fresh. A lesson I’ve applied ever since.

So when the job offer from Apex Connect came through, I didn’t hesitate. The position was for a senior software engineer, with one catch: it was on a world called Dirt. I laughed when I heard that, but hey; Earth - Dirt; Kettle - Pot.

By Imperial standards, the salary was barely adequate for a senior engineer. Comfortable, sure, but compared to what I could make back on Earth? It was a king’s ransom. It had been over ten years since the Shil’vati had ‘integrated’ Earth. Wages were creeping up, inching towards something resembling an Imperium average, but the progress was agonizingly slow.

But that wasn’t the point. The real draw, the part that made me accept without a second thought, was the location. A job on another planet. A chance to leave Earth behind and see something genuinely new. How many people get an opportunity like that?

When I’d asked about relocation, the Shil’vati Personnel Resources officer, a towering woman with eyes like polished gold, seemed evasive about the whole procedure. She said someone from the ISRP would contact me. She informed me that I wouldn’t be able to bring anything more than standard luggage, but I would be getting some funds to help with relocation from ISRP.

I had no idea who or what the “ISRP” was. The vagueness was a definite red flag, one of many I had been ignoring throughout the process. But the chance to get off-planet…it was a risk I was willing to take.

A few days later, the official notification arrived. It was from the Inter-System Reassignment Program - the ISRP. The clipped, formal language of the datapad message informed me that I had been ‘randomly selected’ for relocation to Dirt. A strange coincidence. Statistically improbable, even. The gears of Imperial bureaucracy, greased by corporate interests, were turning just for me.

But it lined up with what the PR woman had said, and if the powers-that-be wanted to call it ‘random,’ who was I to argue? It got me where I wanted to go. The process itself was smooth enough. I left Earth behind with a single, overpacked suitcase. My friends, still trapped back on Earth, inherited all the worldly possessions I couldn’t end up selling.

Surviving the trip itself had been an exercise in endurance. The long-haul passenger vessel was a microcosm of the galaxy’s opinion on human men, and the attention was a constant, exhausting barrage. Wolf-whistles followed me down the corridors, and the stewardesses seemed to find endless reasons to knock on my cabin door. “Do you need any extra towels, Mr Pallisen?” they’d ask, or offer a very personal “turndown service”, their questions loaded with hopeful glints at all hours of the ship’s day-night cycle. But I’d made it.

There’s something profoundly liberating about it. Arriving on a new planet with nothing but a suitcase full of clothes, a data slate in my bag, and a healthy balance of Imperial credits in the bank. No baggage, literal or metaphorical. Just a blank slate. A world of opportunities, or at least, that’s what I told myself. The reality is always more complicated, of course, but for a brief, shining moment, standing here on a world light-years from home, the silence wasn’t empty. It was full of potential.

My brief moment of philosophical introspection was shattered by a gruff voice that cut through the low hum of the spaceport. “ID.” I looked up into the face of a Rakiri militia guard. Her massive, fur-covered form dwarfed the standard-issue lectern, and the air around her smelled faintly of ozone and wet fur. Her fur was the colour of dark charcoal, and her pointed ears twitched with an impatience that was universally understood. One huge hand rested near the butt of a sidearm that looked comically small in her grip, though I had no doubt it was just as deadly. I blinked, bringing myself back to the here and now. “Of course.” I pulled out my data slate and held it up to the scanner. “Sten Pallisen, human” I said, my voice feeling rusty after the long transit.

The guard grunted, her eyes flicking from my face to the slate. Then they flicked back, widening almost imperceptibly as she registered my face, and the “Human Male” designation. The bored mask slipped. A slow, deliberate smile spread across her face, showing the tips of her teeth as her eyes traced the line of my beard. Her posture changed, shifting from a rigid, official stance to something more relaxed as she leaned her weight on the lectern.

“Well now,” she purred, her voice dropping an octave. “Sten Pallisen. All the way from Earth. Is this business… or pleasure?” The way she said ‘pleasure’ made it very clear what she was thinking.

I met her gaze without flinching, a tired sort of amusement tugging at the corner of my mouth. After ten years, and my experiences on the transit here, the alien approach to subtlety - or lack thereof - was hardly a surprise. “Business,” I confirmed, my voice even. “I’m immigrating for work.”

“Immigrating,” she repeated, her gaze sweeping over me in a way that felt far from a security scan. “To stay? That’s interesting.” She tapped a few commands into her console, her eyes never quite leaving me. She stamped my credentials electronically with a flourish. “Maybe you need someone to show you around New Dirt City?” she winked.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, giving her a polite, but firm, smile. “But I’m not staying here. I’ve got a connecting shuttle in a few hours.” Her face fell just a fraction, the professional mask snapping back into place. “Right. Well. Have a good flight.”

I stepped past the checkpoint and into the main terminal, a wry smile touching my lips. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty, all bravado and recycled lines she’d probably heard on whatever holo-shows kids these days watched. After a decade of dealing with bored marines on shore leave, her attempt was almost charming in its lack of finesse.

A quick check of the departure boards showed I had a four-hour layover before the connecting shuttle. I had landed in New Dirt City, the sprawling capital of Dirt and home to the planet’s major interstellar passenger star-port.

During the journey, I had quickly learned that Dirt was the Rakiri homeworld. A quick glance around the terminal confirmed this; they were everywhere I looked. They moved with a lithe, quiet grace that belied their size, their digitigrade legs carrying them with a subtle, almost predatory silence. Their fur, which came in various shades of black, grey-brown, and even a shimmering snow-white, was meticulously groomed and seemed to catch the light. Most wore practical, skin-tight synthetics, like shorts and tank tops, that did little to hide their athletic forms. A few wore coats or scarves, and most were walking barefoot on the cool, synthetic floor.

As I walked, I was acutely aware of the sea of ears twitching and tails moving around me. Though their movements were discreet, their senses were clearly not. I noticed eyes often followed me, or noses would raise in my direction, taking in my scent - a human male, a rare sight in this part of the galaxy. I hunched my shoulders and kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, walking with a brisk, purposeful stride as if I had somewhere important to be. I didn’t. I was just trying to avoid eye contact.

My final destination was a settlement called Vor’s Scratch, which was where Apex Connect had their offices. From what I’d gathered, Vor’s Scratch had started life as a mining city. The mines had long since played out, and now the city was trying to diversify and build up its tech industry. It was a city with history, not some sterile, pre-planned corporate town. A welcome change, in my opinion. It was where my new, furnished apartment was waiting. Four more hours stuck here in New Dirt City, one more flight, and this very long trip would finally be over.

The four-hour layover was an exercise in exploring the culinary delights - or lack thereof - of a major Imperial spaceport. As I moved through the bustling terminal, it seemed some cultural norms held true across species. Despite the many curious glances and raised noses, no one actually approached me. There was a shared, unspoken etiquette about not striking up a conversation with a random person in an airport, or spaceport I guess. I wandered through the concourse, past shops selling everything from high-end jewellery to cheap tourist trinkets, eventually settling on a small food vendor.

My curiosity got the better of me when I saw a bag of snacks in a violently neon-red package. The label was in Shil’vati script, and a small holo-projector helpfully displayed a looping image of what looked like a triangular crisp. ‘K’tharr Bites,’ the label read. I bought a bag. That was a mistake. The first bite was a confusing mix of intensely sweet and vaguely bitter, with a texture like compressed chalk. I managed one more, just to be sure, before consigning the rest of the garish red bag to the nearest bin. Note to self: K’tharr Bites are not Doritos.

On the final shuttle flight to Vor’s Scratch, patience was a resource I’d completely exhausted. My data-slate, once a source of endless entertainment, now felt like a dead weight in my lap. Holo-vids were a nauseating blur of colour, and the words of my ebooks refused to resolve into sentences. All I wanted, with a yearning that felt bone-deep, was a hot shower and a real bed. The low thrum of the shuttle’s engines was the only thing keeping me sane, a monotonous promise that this ordeal was almost over.

My arrival at the Vor’s Scratch shuttle port was a blur. I was met by the same towering Shil’vati PR officer who’d handled my application. “Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her professional smile not quite reaching her golden eyes. “I trust the ISRP process was… efficient?” The question hung in the air, loaded with an unspoken understanding. She didn’t wait for an answer, instead guiding me to a waiting ground-car. The drive to my new apartment was a haze of unfamiliar streets and my own bone-deep weariness. I vaguely recall her saying something about an intro pack on the kitchen counter and that I should come into the office tomorrow whenever I felt up to it. She was efficient, courteous, and thankfully, brief.

She let me into the apartment, handed me a keycard, and with a final “Welcome to Apex,” she was gone. The air inside was cool and smelled of industrial cleaner and new carpets. The silence that descended wasn’t just quiet; it was the heavy, dead stillness of a furnished corporate apartment that had never been a home. I dropped my suitcase by the door, the thud unnaturally loud, and didn’t bother to look around. The intro pack sat on the kitchen counter, just as she’d said. It could wait.

The only thing that mattered was the shower. I cranked the heat until the water was almost scalding, standing under the spray until my skin tingle and the last dregs of recycled air and travel fatigue washed down the drain. I didn’t bother with clothes. The bed was a vague shape in the dark; I stumbled towards it, pulled back the crisp, unfamiliar sheets, and crashed into it. The universe didn’t so much dissolve as it was switched off.

⸻

I woke slowly, to a sensation so unfamiliar it took me a moment to place it: absolute silence. The absence of the constant, low-frequency vibration of a starship’s engines and the incessant hum of the environmental systems was almost deafening. For days, my world had been a cocoon of recycled air and machine noise. Now, there was nothing.

For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Then it all came flooding back: the endless flights, the not-doritos, the flirty guards, the insistent space-liner stewards, and the final, blessed relief of sleep. I’d slept a deep, dreamless slumber that had scrubbed away the worst of the travel fatigue. The light filtering through the window was soft and grey, suggesting a cool, overcast day.

After another long, hot shower that smelled faintly of sulfur - something I’d have to ask about later - I finally turned my attention to the welcome pack the PR woman had left on the kitchen counter. It was a sleek, dark grey folder embossed with the Apex Connect logo. Inside was a data chip pre-loaded with local maps, a guide to company benefits, and a list of recommended local restaurants and services. There was also a small card with a name and a direct comm-link. Tuli G’rekk, Personnel Resources.

It made sense that she was my main contact. The whole interview process had been a strange, disconnected affair, a necessity born from the lack of FTL comms. A local recruitment agency on Earth had conducted the technical interviews, recording the whole thing. That recording was then shipped via courier to Dirt. Tuli, I presumed, had been the one to review the recordings and send back the eventual job offer. The entire process, with data physically flying back and forth across the stars, had taken months.

My stomach rumbled, a reminder that spaceport snacks didn’t count as a real meal. A quick search of the kitchen cupboards revealed they were mostly bare, but a few essentials had been thoughtfully left on the counter. A single-serving protein pouch, the kind that looked like an oversized kid’s yogurt snack, and a small box of what looked like tea bags. Tuli’s doing, no doubt. The protein paste was bland but filling. I boiled some water and steeped one of the bags. The resulting drink was a different story. It was a hot, tea-like beverage that smelled vaguely of berries but had a strange, sweet and metallic aftertaste that coated my tongue. Not unpleasant, just… alien. It was enough to get me started, but I made a mental note to find a grocery store soon.

With breakfast out of the way, I took a proper look at my new, temporary home. The apartment was part of my relocation package, a corporate-leased place I had for the first month while I found my own footing. It was a one-bedroom, clearly built to Shil and Rakiri scale. The first thing that struck me were the ceilings. They were incredibly high, probably a good fourteen feet, which gave the space an airy, open feel but also made my human proportions feel slightly diminished. I figured it was a common feature in their architecture, a practical concession to their height and that famous cultural aversion they have to small spaces.

The main living space was dominated by a large, comfortable-looking couch in a neutral grey fabric, facing a dark, wall-mounted holo-screen. The kitchen was a compact, efficient alcove. The bedroom was just big enough for the bed and a wardrobe. It was simple, clean, and blessedly empty of clutter. A perfect blank canvas, even if it was only mine for a short time.

I peered out the main window. The sky was a uniform sheet of grey, and the streets below were wet, with patches of dirty, melting slush gathered in the gutters. It didn’t look freezing, but there was definitely a chill in the air that promised to bite through a single layer. I unpacked my suitcase, pulling out a familiar pair of worn jeans and a game-themed T-shirt. Over that, I added a long-sleeved shirt and a thick hoodie. Layers seemed like a sensible strategy for a climate I didn’t understand yet. Comfort over style had always been my motto, and today was no exception. Dressed and feeling vaguely human again, I was ready to face my first day.

The walk to the Apex offices was a short one, maybe fifteen minutes through the streets of Vor’s Scratch. The city had a rugged, lived-in feel, a frontier town that had grown into something more permanent without losing its character. Most of the buildings were two or three-story walkups, their walls made of a rough, aggregate material that looked like a mixture of rock and concrete. I speculated that it was probably a clever use of mining waste, a cheap and readily available building material. The windows were proportionally small, as if hunkering down against a winter that was still lingering in the air. What saved the city from being drab was the colour. The buildings were painted in a riot of different shades - deep blues, earthy reds, ochre yellows, and forest greens. It was a welcome, cheerful defiance against the grey sky, and I was thankful they weren’t all painted in imperial purple. It felt good to stretch my legs, to be out in a new city, on a new world.

The Apex Connect offices were housed in one of the newer additions to the cityscape, a modern, three-story building of black steel and tinted glass that stood out amongst the colourful, older structures. I pushed through the heavy glass doors into a shared lobby. A directory on the wall confirmed the building was a hub for the burgeoning tech scene. Names like ‘Logic Weavers’, ‘Synth-Core Dynamics’, and ‘Pixel & Poly’ were listed alongside a dozen other startups.

Apex Connect was on the third floor. I took the lift up, which opened directly into their reception area. A lone Rakiri receptionist sat behind a large, curved desk, her dark fur a stark contrast to the light grey of the desk. She looked up as I approached, her amber eyes widening slightly before a polite, professional smile touched her lips. “Good morning. How can I help you?” she asked, her voice a pleasant alto.

“Good morning,” I replied. “I’m Sten Pallisen, here to see Tuli G’rekk.” The receptionist’s smile became a little more genuine. “Of course, Mr. Pallisen. We’ve been expecting you.” She tapped at her console. “I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.” A moment later, a door behind the reception desk slid open and Tuli emerged, that same flash of white tusks against her purple skin. “Sten Pallisen. I trust you slept well?”

“Like the dead,” I admitted. “Thank you for arranging everything. It was a smooth arrival.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, her voice a low, pleasant rumble. “Your official first day isn’t until tomorrow, but since you’re here, I thought you might like a quick tour. We can get you acquainted with the office and I can introduce you to the team. No pressure at all, but it might make tomorrow a little easier.” She gestured for me to follow her, her long strides easily eating up the distance across the lobby.

Tuli led me through another set of sliding doors into the main office space. It was a single, large open-plan room, buzzing with the quiet energy of a focused workforce. Desks were arranged in clusters, but the space was defined by several meeting rooms that lined the perimeter, their floor-to-ceiling glass walls looking out into the main office area.

It was a small company, maybe thirty employees in total, with about half of them being developers and the rest a mix of support staff. The whole place had a distinct startup vibe. Stacks of board games were piled on a shelf in one corner, and glass-fronted drinks fridges were scattered about, stocked with colourful beverages. The walls were a collage of achievement posters, charts tracking new initiatives, and shelves crowded with intricate, hand-painted models of famous warships and meticulously assembled miniatures from what I assume are popular tabletop wargames.

It became clear that the developers were clustered together on one side of the room. It was a stark contrast to the other side of the office, where the more ‘creative’ departments like marketing and customer support were based. I’d noticed the odd male scattered amongst those desks, but the engineering area was almost universally female.

Their section of the office also had its own unique decor. Tucked between sequence diagrams and project timelines were posters that could only be described as soft-core pinups, mostly of scantily-clad men from various species, including a few humans. It was an unexpected sight, but no different from walking into a mechanic’s workshop on Earth and seeing pin-up calendars. I smiled to myself as Tuli led me towards a desk at the edge of the developer pod.

“Everyone, this is Sten Pallisen,” Tuli announced, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. The developers turned as one, and I suddenly felt like a fresh steak tossed into a lion’s den, or a rakiri den I supposed. Most of the employees I’d seen so far, besides Tuli, had been Rakiri, which was logical enough given Dirt was their homeworld.

Their eyes roamed over me with an open, appraising curiosity that was far from subtle. One of them, a tall Rakiri with a streak of bright pink dyed into her fur, glanced from me to a poster of a ridiculously muscular human male in a loincloth, and then back again, a guilty look flashing across her face.

Tuli didn’t miss it. Her expression tightened. “Mr. Pallisen, on behalf of the company, I must apologize for the… unprofessional state of the workspace.” She turned her glare on the developers, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “Personnel Resources will be having words. I seem to recall asking for this area to be sanitised before our new hire arrived.”

A chorus of grumbles rose from the developers. “He wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow!” one of them shot back, gesturing with a claw hand. “We were going to clean up!”

I laughed, holding up my hands. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Honestly.” I looked around at the posters and shrugged. “Leave them up. I might even add a few of my own. I just wanted to come in a day early, get a feel for the place before the chaos starts.”

From the back of the group, a low, sultry voice muttered, just loud enough for me to hear, “You can get a feel of me anytime.” A few of the others snickered, and I just grinned. It was going to be an interesting job.

Before any more comments could be made, Tuli put a firm hand on my back and propelled me away from the developer pod and towards a nearby meeting room. “We can do your orientation in here, Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her tone all business again, though I could see a hint of fluster in her eyes. The room was sterile and plain, a stark contrast to the lively office outside.

As the door slid shut, I turned to her. “Tuli, seriously. It’s fine.” She was already pulling up orientation documents on the room’s holo-display, but she paused and looked at me. “And please,” I added with a grin, “call me Sten. Mr. Pallisen is my dad. Unless you think I look that old?” I gave her a small smile. “The posters, the comments… it really doesn’t bother me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. As long as I’m allowed to put up my own pinups, we’ll call it even. Fair is fair, right?”

Tuli stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, a corner of her mouth twitched upwards, a genuine smile this time. “Okay, Sten. Point taken.” Her professional demeanor seemed to settle back into place as she gestured to the chair opposite her. “Maybe the… enthusiasm out there is understandable, given what we do here.”

She sighed, the smile fading as she leaned forward slightly. “As you know, Apex Connect runs ‘Pursuit’. We’re the third-largest dating app on Dirt, but the market is getting crowded. We’re at a point where we either have to grow, or we’ll be squeezed out by the bigger players.”

“That’s where you come in,” she continued, her gaze intense. “Frankly, a human with your experience is a rare commodity. The success of human dating apps has not gone unnoticed. The way you monetize, the engagement algorithms… it’s a different league. Your experience in that sector is precisely why we brought you all the way out here. We don’t just want to leverage that knowledge, Sten. We need it.”

The weight of her words settled on me. This wasn’t just a job; it was a rescue mission. I met her intense gaze with a slow, deliberate nod. “I understand,” I said, my voice steady. “You brought me here to make a difference. I’ll do my best.”

She brought up a new screen on the holo-display, showing a list of company policies. “We try to maintain a pretty relaxed environment here. Core hours are ten hundred to seventeen hundred, with a half-hour for lunch - which is catered, by the way.” She flashed a quick smile. “We also provide a full gym membership, and the drinks in the office fridges are free. The alcoholic ones are fine after sixteen hundred, but those you have to buy yourself.”

Tuli leaned back, her expression turning serious again. “Your role here is going to be a little… unconventional. You’re not being assigned to a standard development team. Instead, you’ll be part of a new ‘strike team’. Small, agile, and focused. Your entire purpose will be to take what you know about human-centric app design and apply it to Pursuit. We need to see gains, and we need to see them fast. You’ll have a lot of freedom, but also a lot of pressure.”

I held up a hand to pause her for a moment. “I just want to set expectations,” I said carefully. “Human psychology is… specific. What works for us might not apply here. The cultural differences are massive. But I promise I’ll pass on everything I know. We’ll test it, adapt it, and find what works for your user base.”

Tuli nodded, a flicker of respect in her eyes. “That’s all we ask.” She then launched into the corporate boilerplate. I listened with half an ear as she covered data security, the zero-tolerance harassment policy, and emergency procedures - the same standard script I could have recited from memory from any of my last three jobs. Some things, it seemed, were universally dull.

Finally, she deactivated the holo-screen. “Alright, that’s enough for today. You’re not officially on the clock until tomorrow morning, but the executive team wants to meet with you at ten hundred to talk strategy. After that, you can get settled in. For now, go home, get some more rest, maybe explore the city a little. Come in ready to hit the ground running.”

“Thanks for everything, Tuli,” I said, getting to my feet. “One last thing, though. Thanks for ensuring I had some food in the apartment, but I’m going to need real food eventually. Any advice on where to get groceries?”

She smiled. “‘Fod’ is probably your best bet. It’s the biggest chain, it has the best range. There’s one a few blocks from your apartment, you can’t miss it.”

I headed out of the Apex offices and back into the cool, grey air. Sure enough, on the way back to my building, I saw the bright, cheerful logo of a ‘Fod’ supermarket. I ducked inside, grabbing a shopping basket.

The place was a sensory overload, but not in the way I expected. The produce section was a small, almost apologetic corner of the store, with a few spiky orbs and coiled tubers, and a sparse scattering of other fresh produce. The rest of the store, the vast majority of it, was dedicated to meat. Endless aisles of it, in every conceivable form. There were refrigerated cases of raw cuts, freezers full of frozen game, and entire sections dedicated to cured, smoked, and processed meats. I saw pre-packaged meat pies, savory meat-filled pastries, and something called a ‘Pippaya’ that was, to my mild horror, a meat muffin. It was clear where the local culinary priorities lay.

I found a section with pre-prepared meals, grabbing a few that looked vaguely appetizing. I knew that wouldn’t last, though; pre-prepared meals would get boring real fast, and I’d have to learn to cook with the local ingredients eventually. Figuring there was no time like the present, I started grabbing a random assortment of the alien produce, along with a few cuts of meat that looked reasonably familiar. It felt like a good place to start my culinary education on Dirt. With my basket full, I paid and headed for home.

⸻

Chapter 2 - Munchies

It’s a truth galactically acknowledged that a body fresh off a long-haul flight will betray you for the nearest soft surface. After weeks in transit, mine was plotting a full-blown mutiny. It’s a rookie mistake to give in. The only way to beat jet lag, or trans-starsystem-spaceship-lag I reminded myself, was to force a new schedule on my protesting body and stay up until a reasonable, local bedtime.

I’d had one good night of sleep, but my body clock had not adjusted yet. I knew that if I stayed in the apartment after visiting Apex, the siren song of the comfortable-looking bed would be too strong to resist. I’d crash, wake up at some ungodly hour, and spend the next week feeling like a zombie. Plus, with an important meeting with the executive team first thing in the morning, I couldn’t afford to be off my game. Getting out of the house was the only viable option.

A few taps on my data-slate brought me to the Dirt’s equivalent of Reddit, a sprawling network of forums called ‘The Weave’. I dove into the sub-forum for Vor’s Scratch. I scrolled through posts about local politics, complaints about public transport, and ads for used ground-cars until I found a thread for local events. Tucked between a flyer for an alien ball game and an announcement for a poetry slam, something caught my eye.

It was a post for an event called the Vor’s Scratch Alternative Social Club Monthly Meetup. The description was carefully worded, talking about “like-minded individuals” and “alternative lifestyle enthusiasts” meeting for drinks and conversation at a reserved table of a local bar.

The careful wording hinted at kinks and alternative lifestyles, and it sounded like a Munch†. I’d been to a few back on Earth. They were always a refreshingly normal way to meet abnormal people - no pressure, no play, just a bunch of kinky folks sharing drinks in a public place. Talking about everything from rope suspension to the local sports team. A chance to connect with a community without the whole scene attached.

Either way, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to meet some locals. I’d learned the hard way that work friends were great, but if they were your only friends, your whole social life just became extended overtime. That wasn’t a life; it was just a longer shift.

Yeah, a low-key social event was exactly what I needed. My evening suddenly had a purpose. Grabbing my hoodie, I was out the door before my body could object.

⸻

The bar, ‘The Broken Pick’, was tucked into the ground floor of a three-story building. Its entrance a few steps below street level, giving it a cozy subterranean feel. The interior was all rough-hewn charm and deliberate shadows. The floor was made of smooth dark rock, and the bar itself was a long slab of polished wood surrounded by sturdy wooden stools.

The rest of the seating was a mix of freestanding tables and chairs, and a long, wrap-around padded bench that followed the curve of the wall. It was the kind of seating arrangement where if you got stuck in the middle, everyone would have to shuffle out to let you escape. The bar was well-lit, but the rest of the room was a comfortable gloom, full of deep shadows. The air smelled vaguely sweet and spicy.

Just inside the door, there was a heavy-duty coat rack that already had several thick, puffy jackets, the kind you’d wear in a blizzard. But less than you’d expect given the population of the bar. I pulled off my comparatively thin hoodie, found a free hook and hung it up.

I looked around the bar. It was mostly filled with Rakiri, which made sense, given that Dirt was their homeworld. Their thick fur coats made the puffy jackets on the coat rack mostly redundant for them. There was a scattering of Shil’vati here and there, their purple skin a stark contrast to the sea of fur. They, like me, were probably feeling the chill.

I spotted the meetup in a corner almost immediately. It had that tell-tale awkwardness of a group of strangers trying to mingle for the first time, a universal constant at these kinds of events. Taking a deep breath, I walked over. As I approached, one figure in particular drew my attention, mostly because she was staring at me with an unnerving intensity.

She was a Shil’vati, just over seven feet tall. Her dark hair was styled in a punk-inspired undercut, with a longer top knot flopping over to one side. She was dressed in tight leather pants that hugged her long legs, and a simple dark top. She was, without a doubt, stunning. Sharp features and small, delicate tusks that barely peeked past her lips. Unlike some of the more… voluptuous depictions of her species I’d seen, her proportions were athletic, lean, a runner’s physique.

Her unwavering gaze made her the natural starting point. I met it head-on, offering a confident smile. “This is the Alternative Social Club meetup, right?” I asked, my voice cutting easily through the bar’s low hum. “I’m Sten.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. She was trying to lean casually against the wall near the table, arms crossed. Her eyes raked over me. Her voice was a low, smoky purr. “It is,” she confirmed, not breaking eye contact. “I’m Mistress Kaelis.” She paused, letting the title hang in the air. “And what about you, Sten? Are you a little lost boy who needs looking after?”

“Great!” I said, deliberately ignoring the title and the loaded question. My smile didn’t waver. “I’m not lost, just new to Vor’s Scratch. Figured this would be a good way to meet some people, make some friends.”

Her smile widened, completely missing or choosing to ignore the emphasis I’d put on the word friends. “Oh, I can be very good to you,” she purred, pushing off the wall to take a step closer. Her height was even more imposing up close. “Everyone new to the city needs someone to show them around, make sure they’re taken care of. A little thing like you… you must get so cold. Don’t you need a nice, strong woman to keep you warm?”

I had to fight to keep a straight face. I’d been hit on before; the trip here had been quite the eye-opener. But this was a whole new level of intensity. The whole ‘Mistress’ and ‘lost boy’ routine was… a lot. Still, my goal for the evening was to meet people, not make enemies, so I played it cool.

“I appreciate the very generous offer, Mistress Kaelis,” I said, my voice laced with a confidence that bordered on amusement. “But I’m not really looking for a mistress to take care of me. It’s not really my jam. Good luck on your search, though.” I gave her a polite nod, trying to signal a friendly but firm boundary. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do a bit of mingling. Maybe we can chat later?”

Kaelis looked genuinely unsure, her mouth opening slightly as if to form a response she couldn’t quite find. Before she could recover, I offered another polite smile and moved past her, deeper into the small crowd. My eyes scanned the various small groups clustered around the tables. Most were Rakiri, their conversations a low rumble of growls and guttural sounds that was definitely not Shil. As a newcomer who only spoke the Imperial common tongue, they felt unapproachable.

Then, my ears caught the familiar, if still alien, cadence of Shil. My eyes landed on the source: a more approachable-looking pair. A towering Rakiri woman, close to eight feet tall and heavy set, stood like a furry mountain beside a Shil’vati girl who stood about my height, maybe even slightly shorter. They were both laughing about something, and the Shil’vati let out a peal of high-pitched giggles that was infectious. They seemed like a much better place to start.

I walked up to them with a friendly smile. “Hi there,” I started, “This is the Alternative Social Club, right? I’m Sten.” I knew it was, but it’s also an easy way to start a conversation, and let them know I’m new.

The towering Rakiri woman turned her head, her grin revealing impressive canines. She was sipping from a small glass containing a dark amber spirit. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but solid, a confident alto that seemed to vibrate in my chest. “You found it,” she said. “Though no one really calls it that. It’s the AltSo Club. Or just AltSo.” She gestured to herself with a thumb. “I’m Torka.”

The Shil’vati girl, who was still trying to stifle her giggles, looked at me with wide, curious eyes. “And I’m Lyra,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “Are you human? I didn’t know there were any humans in Vors!”

Vors, I guessed. Short for Vor’s Scratch. Good to know. “Oh, I just moved here!” I replied easily, matching her friendly tone. “Trying to meet people, make some friends. You know how it is.”

Torka’s friendly grin didn’t falter, but her eyes held a directness that matched her firm tone. “It’s good to have you here, Sten. But just so you know, we’re not really interested in boys.” Lyra nudged her partner gently in the ribs, then leaned in towards me whispering conspiratorially, “Yeah… Torka and I are monogamous.”

I just smiled warmly, completely unfazed. I wasn’t entirely sure why either of those things would be a big deal, but I respected the boundary they were setting. “Okay,” I said, my tone making it clear I understood. “Good to know. So, what about you two? How long have you lived in Vors?”

“Oh, me?” Lyra chirped immediately. “I’m a transplant! Moved to Dirt about five years ago. Torka’s the local, born and bred right here in Vors.” She beamed, then gestured with her head towards her partner. “She’s a shuttle engineer at the spaceport!” Torka gave a slow nod of confirmation and took another sip of her drink, her gaze calm and steady.

“So what brings a human all the way out to Dirt?” Lyra asked, her curiosity bubbling over. “To Vors, I mean?”

“Work, actually,” I said. “I just started a new job with Apex Connect.”

Lyra’s eyes went wide. “Apex? Oh! Are you like… a dating expert or something?” She lowered her voice a little, a blush creeping up her neck. “Since you’re from… you know… the sex planet?” She finished with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows. “Or are you just here to find a pack of furry girlfriends?”

Torka let out a low chuckle, the flash of her canines in the dim light revealing a smirk.

I laughed, a genuine, relaxed sound this time. “Hah, no, definitely not a dating expert. And I’m not sure about the dating thing yet. Honestly, I just wanted a change. See a new world, experience a new culture, and meet new people.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Lyra, with her boundless local enthusiasm, did most of the talking, eagerly telling me about the best places to eat, the parks to avoid after dark, and a waterfall a little ways out of town that was worth the trip. I carried my end of the conversation, asking questions and sharing my first impressions of the city. TTorka remained a quiet, solid presence beside her partner, content to listen and sip her drink, only occasionally interjecting with a dry, witty comment that made Lyra giggle. It was comfortable.

After a few minutes of chatting, I realized I was still empty-handed. “I need a drink,” I announced. “Can I get you two anything? My round.”

Torka tilted her head, her deep voice rumbling with curiosity. “A round?”

“Ah, sorry. Human custom,” I explained with an easy smile. “It’s where one person buys drinks for the group. We take turns. It’s a friendly thing.”

Lyra looked at Torka, who flicked her ears in a gesture I couldn’t quite read. Agreement, maybe? I was still a complete novice when it came to Rakiri body language. “I’ll have another of these,” Torka rumbled, lifting her glass of dark spirit. Lyra chirped, “I’ll have a Sun-Cider, please!”

With a nod, I headed for the bar. Kaelis detached from the wall and stepped up next to me, invading my personal space before I’d taken two steps. “Can I buy you a drink, little man?” she asked, her voice a low purr.

“No thanks, it’s my round,” I said, as if that explained everything. She gave me a look of pure incomprehension but fell into step next to me as I walked to the bar.

At the bar, I flagged down the bartender. “A Sun-cider, and two of that dark spirit,” I said, pointing back at Torka’s glass. As the bartender got to work, Kaelis leaned in, trying a different tack. Her voice was lower, an awkward attempt at being conspiratorial. “So… it’s a big galaxy for such a… small guy… to be all alone.”

I turned to her, ignoring the comment as I pulled out my data-slate. “Quick question about local customs,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “Do you tip here? Pay extra on top of the price, for the bartender?”

Kaelis looked at me, completely baffled. “Tip? No. Why would you pay extra? The drinks cost what they cost.”

The bartender set the drinks on the counter, and I tapped my data-slate against the payment terminal. “Good to know. Thanks, Mistress Kaelis,” I said, then paused before picking up the drinks and met her eyes. “I don’t like being called ‘little’, or ‘small’, or ‘boy’. Please don’t do it again.” I picked up my three drinks, turned, and left her standing there.

As I settled back into the conversation with my new friends, I noticed Kaelis had followed me back from the bar, her own drink now in hand. She didn’t join our circle directly, but hovered just on the edge, pretending to be interested in a nearby holo-advertisement. Her presence was a palpable, awkward weight. Lyra’s cheerful chatter faltered for a moment as she glanced at the silent figure, pressing a little closer into Torka’s side, before she seemed to consciously restart her story, her voice a little too bright.

“So, why did you pick the AltSo meetup, anyway?” Lyra asked, her head tilted after taking a sip of her cider.

I could feel Kaelis’s attention sharpen, even though she didn’t turn her head. “Honestly? It was on tonight, and I just landed yesterday evening. I’m trying to reset my body clock, so I need to stay awake.” I let out a genuine, jaw-cracking yawn that I couldn’t stifle. “But enough about me. You said you’re a transplant. What brought you all the way out to Dirt?”

For the first time since I’d met her, Lyra’s boundless energy seemed to dim. A deep blush crept up her neck, turning her purple skin a shade darker. She suddenly seemed shy, a stark contrast to her usual brash demeanor. “Oh, um…” she stammered, her gaze dropping to her drink. “I just… I’ve always really liked Rakiri.” She peeked up, her voice barely a whisper. “Their strength… their fur… their claws…” She trailed off, looking flustered. “So, I saved up for years and moved here.” She then looked up at Torka, her expression softening into one of pure adoration. “And I found my dream partner.”

As if on cue, Torka wrapped a massive, furry arm around Lyra, pulling the smaller Shil’vati deep into her thick fur. Lyra let out a contented sigh and snuggled in, disappearing almost completely from view. A quiet smile touched my lips as the realization dawned on me. Oh. She’s a furry? It explained everything. I took a final sip of my drink, the strong, alien spirit warming my chest.

I put my empty glass down on a nearby table with a soft clink. “You two are, well, just lovely. But, I’m fading fast,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I’m going to have to get home soon.”

“Hey, hold on,” Torka rumbled, her voice a friendly protest. “We haven’t bought our round yet.”

I smiled, genuinely appreciative. “Well, how about we meet up again? Seriously, it was great meeting you both. I’m new and trying to make some actual friends. I’d really like to meet up again, just to chat and hang out, if you’re up for it.”

Torka nodded, her quiet confidence unwavering. “Yeah, we can do that. This is our local anyway. How about this Shel? Same time?” Lyra beamed, nodding enthusiastically. Staying uncharacteristically quiet.

“Perfect,” I said, a real sense of relief washing over me. “It was great to meet you both. I hope to see you then. Goodnight, Torka and Lyra!” With a final wave to the couple, I turned and headed for the door, grabbing my hoodie from the rack on my way out into the cold night air.

⸻

The walk home began as a welcome immersion in the quiet, colourful streets. The chill in the air had sharpened, cutting through my hoodie and invigorating my tired mind.

But after a few blocks, that pleasant solitude was broken by the distinct crunch of footsteps behind me - heavy, but with an amateurish attempt at stealth that had all the subtlety of a bulldozer.

My stomach tightened. It reminded me of the patronizing Imperial PSAs they used to run on Earth, the ones with the smiling Shil’vati officer advising human men not to walk alone at night and to always carry self-defense spray. We’d all laughed at them, another clumsy attempt by our conquerors to impose their own societal norms on us. But here, alone on an alien world, with the sound of someone deliberately stalking me through the empty streets, it suddenly wasn’t so funny.

I glanced behind me as I turned a corner, and sighed, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. I hadn’t seen fur, so I had a pretty good idea who it was. Rather than lead her all the way to my apartment, I spotted a brightly lit convenience store on the next corner. I turned abruptly and walked inside, the chime of the door announcing my arrival. I grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler and then, instead of going to the counter, I simply stood by the door and waited.

A moment later, the door chimed again and Kaelis entered, her stride faltering and her eyes widening when she saw me standing there, looking at her. She was clutching the thick winter jacket she’d retrieved from the bar. I guess she hadn’t had time to put it on in her rush to follow me. She looked everywhere but at me, shivering.

“Mistress Kaelis,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “Good evening.”

“Oh, hi!” she said, her voice an octave too high as she tried, and failed, to look surprised. “Sten! What a coincidence.” Her previous confidence was completely gone.

“On your way home?” I asked, my tone neutral.

She nodded quickly. “Yep! Just heading home.”

“You just dropped in here for a drink, then?” I asked.

“Um… yeah? I mean… yeah,” she said, though the words sounded more like a question than a statement.

I tossed the bottle of water underhand. She fumbled it for a second, then caught it. Hesitantly, she looked at me, clutching the bottle and wringing her free hand. I nodded toward the cashier. Kaelis took the hint, walked over, and paid for the water. She returned and just stood there. Her gaze darting from her shoes to the fridge behind me, then to my face, before flitting away again as she waited.

I let the silence hang for a long moment before I finally broke it and asked the question we both knew the answer to. “So, why were you following me?”

“I-I wasn’t following… I was…” Her voice trailed off, then she blurted out the excuse, “…escorting you! From a distance. You’re so sma…” she broke off. “It’s not always safe,” she finished.

I let out a long, tired sigh. “Look, I appreciate the thought. I don’t know this town, I don’t know what’s safe and what’s not. But I also don’t know you, I don’t know if you’re safe. Maybe you’re the one I should be worried about?” She looked at me, stunned.

“Why didn’t you just offer to walk with me?” I asked her.

She looked down at her feet, her lips parting, then pressing together. She tried again, a small sound catching in her throat before she swallowed. Her gaze rose to mine, and she attempted to speak once more, but only a hesitant breath escaped.

I sighed again, this time with a little less exasperation, and looked at her. She just seemed young and awkward under all that bluster. I pulled out my data-slate, my thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a quick message to Tuli. She was the only contact I had on this planet, and I could only hope she wouldn’t mind being my emergency call.

“There,” I said, putting the slate away and meeting her wide, surprised eyes. “My work colleague knows I’m with you and where I’m going. If I don’t text her back in twenty minutes, she’ll call the militia. So, you can walk me home, if you’re really that worried. But walk with me. Not behind me, like a stalker.”

The walk back to the apartment was mostly silent, save for the soft crunch of our boots. Kaelis, now bundled in her thick jacket, kept glancing at me. I could feel her eyes on me, quick, darting looks that she’d immediately pull away when I met her gaze. It was clear she had something on her mind, but was struggling to voice it.

“How are you not cold?” she finally asked, her voice a little stronger now, filled with a genuine, almost childlike curiosity. “I didn’t think humans had fur all over their bodies… but you have some on your face.”

I stopped and looked at her, a laugh bubbling up despite my exhaustion. “On my face? You mean my beard?” I stroked it thoughtfully. “No, we don’t have fur. And this doesn’t do much to keep me warm.” I gestured at the slushy, but clear, pavement. “Besides, there isn’t even any snow on the ground. It’s just… different biology, I guess.”

She nodded, still looking at me, her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her gaze flickered to her feet, then back up to my face. “Sten… um…” she started, then stopped, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She took a small breath. “I…” She trailed off again, her eyes wide.

When we reached the door to my apartment building, I stopped and turned to her. “Well, this is me. Thanks for the escort, Mistress Kaelis.” I gave her a small, tired smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Before she could say anything else, I turned, entered the building, and locked the door firmly behind me.

Once inside, I walked over to the main window and peered through the blinds. Down on the street, Kaelis was just standing there, a tall, solitary figure under the glow of a streetlamp. She seemed to be talking to herself, her head moving slightly as if in an argument. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, she kicked the pavement in frustration. She stood for another moment before turning and walking away, her shoulders slumped. I watched until she disappeared around the corner.

I let the blinds fall back into place, a small, tired smile on my face. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. Lord knows I’d done my fair share of stupid, awkward things trying to get a girl’s attention over the years. Her approach was just the Shil’vati version of that same universal, cringeworthy experience. I could cut her a little slack.

The exhaustion of the day, the travel, and the weird social encounters hit me all at once. Before anything else, I pulled out my data-slate and opened my messages. The one I’d sent to Tuli was still marked ‘Unread’. I let out a short, quiet laugh. All that drama for a message she hadn’t even seen yet. I quickly typed out ‘Home safe. Thanks.’ and sent it.

I stumbled to the bathroom, brushed my teeth on autopilot, set an alarm for the morning, stripped off my clothes, dumping them on the floor, and crashed into bed, asleep before my head even fully hit the pillow.

⸻

Chapter 3 - Alien

It’s a truth known by all humans, at least by anyone who has ever travelled across a galaxy, that waking up on an alien world is a peculiar experience. The light filtering through the window was a shade my Earth-born eyes couldn’t name, as I lay there luxuriating in the silence of my apartment.

I wondered idly what the locals called their star, the source of this muted, grey light. Is it starlight? A star-rise in the morning? I’d have to ask someone at work.

I stretched, a long, satisfying arch of my back, and swung my legs out of bed. The floor was cool beneath my feet. My body felt surprisingly well-rested, a deep sleep having successfully recalibrated my internal clock. Space-lag, it seemed, was a beast that could be tamed with enough unconsciousness.

First, a shower. The hot water, still carrying that faint sulfuric tang, was invigorating. It was a bizarre scent to associate with cleanliness, but I was already getting used to it. As the steam filled the small bathroom, I thought about the day ahead. My official first day at Apex Connect. I wanted to get there a bit early, settle in, and make sure I was ready to hit the ground running.

After drying off, I pulled on the comfortable, well-worn jeans I’d worn the night before, and a fresh T-shirt. My usual uniform, the standard dress code for developers back on Earth. I wasn’t here to make a fashion statement; I was here to write code. I wasn’t even sure what the standard was, or if it even applied to me. Almost everyone I’d seen at the office yesterday was a woman, and they’d mostly been dressed casually. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed the usual: bald head gleaming, beard neatly trimmed.

I grabbed a quick breakfast - a small, purplish fruit-like orb I’d chosen at random from the fridge, with a surprisingly sweet and slightly tart flavour. It was dense and satisfying. I paired it with another cup of the berry-ish, metallic-tasting tea. I was never big on coffee, but I didn’t mind tea, and this was hot and it did the trick.

I had woken up a little earlier this morning. I needed to get a good idea about Pursuit, the dating app that was the main product of Apex Connect, and importantly, its competitors. I quickly downloaded all three from the local app store and signed up.

The signup process was quick and efficient, using my official Imperium ID to verify my identity. I guessed that stopped spammers and bots pretty quick, a neat solution to a problem that plagued Earth-based apps. Identity theft might still be a thing, but this was a solid first line of defense. Of course, it also meant there was zero privacy, but privacy wasn’t really a right, or even an expectation, under the Shil’vati Imperium.

As I swiped through the three apps, a strange sense of deja vu washed over me. They were all almost identical. The user interface, the colour palettes, even the layout of the profiles - it was uncanny. I dug into the monetization layers. All of them were exclusively aimed at the female users, offering premium features and boosts. The prices and the bonuses offered were, again, identical across all three platforms. It was less like a competitive market and more like a strange, synchronized dance.

I started scrolling through a bunch of profiles on Pursuit. Given that I was on Dirt, they were mostly Rakiri. That wasn’t surprising. They were an impressive-looking species, bipedal with powerful digitigrade legs, a mix of wolf and lion-like features, and covered in thick fur that came in a wide variety of colours and patterns. Much like Earth wolves, many had coats of mixed greys, blacks, and browns. Others were a solid, lighter tan, almost like a dingo?

What was surprising, and utterly baffling, were the profile pictures. It seemed that for the Rakiri, the ultimate status symbol was the hunt. At least ninety percent of the profiles were dedicated to it in some form. There were endless photos of grinning, well-endowed supermodels with fur and claws, posing in the snow with one foot on a dead, deer-like creature.

They were usually dressed in skin-tight spandex that showed off every curve, sometimes paired with a hooded, camouflaged jacket. Others wore tactical webbing, crisscrossed with pouches filled with who-knows-what, with a large knife tucked away somewhere accessible.

The poses varied, but the theme was constant. Some held a high-tech rifle, others proudly displayed claws dripping with blood. Sometimes it was a group shot, a pack of attractive furry ladies standing triumphantly around a large kill. Other times, there wasn’t even a picture of the Rakiri herself; it was just a photo of the slain animal with a rifle laid across it, or a close-up of a throat that had clearly been ripped out.

The sheer volume was overwhelming. For fifty hunting photos, I might see one of a Rakiri, hair wet and plastered against their… impressive bodies, holding up a large, silvery fish. But even those were a tiny minority. The odd picture playing a sport or surrounded by friends on a night out felt like a rare, precious glimpse into a different side of their culture.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I decided to conduct a little experiment. I started swiping right randomly on a bunch of different profiles, just to see what the user experience was like. My data-slate buzzed almost instantly. Then again. And again. The matches started rolling in, and with them, the messages. It was a veritable flood, a chaotic mix of propositions and questions that painted a vivid picture of the local dating scene.

One of the first was surprisingly direct:
> How long have you been on Pursuit? Well, may I be the first to offer you money for sex?

Another was more practical, but no less forward:
> You only have a face pic, which is nice, but too many guys try to hide what they look like. Can I see a full body pic?

Then there were the pickup lines, which seemed to transcend species:
> I'm no weather-woman, but I can predict it'll be wet for you every night!

One match demonstrated a spectacular lack of patience. A simple:
> Hi!

And then ten seconds later:
> Stuck-up stiffy who doesn't reply, why even get on Pursuit if you're not going to talk?

Some were more… spiritual:
> I spoke to the Goddess last night, she said I can help you see her tonight.

And then there was the one that made me put the data-slate down for a moment and just stare into the middle distance:
> Can I lick your feet?
> Or get pictures of them?
> I'll pay.

With a weary sigh, I turned off notifications for all three apps.

⸻

The streets of Vor’s Scratch were quiet, but picking up as the morning commute began. Ground-cars crunched past; many still had winter tires fitted despite the warming weather. Pedestrians moved with purpose, the air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of damp earth and something vaguely industrial.

A few blocks from my apartment, I saw an alien but familiar sight: a Rakiri mother, tall and powerfully built, walking hand-in-hand with her two daughters. The girls, probably no older than ten or twelve, were miniature versions of their mother, their dark fur thick and their pointed ears twitching as they chattered excitedly in their gruff-sounding language. As we passed, the mother ignored me completely, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

Her daughters, their green eyes wide with curiosity, pointed and exclaimed in unison, “You’re weird!” I laughed. “Good morning, and yeah, I am weird!” I replied. It was a simple exchange, but it was a reminder that even on an alien world some things were universal.

Further down the street, I passed a restaurant that was still dark, its sign unlit. Outside, a Rakiri woman was wrestling with a large ground-truck, unloading boxes stacked high. As I walked by, she paused, lifting her head and sniffing the air, her nose twitching. Her gaze followed me for a moment before she grunted and returned to hefting a large crate, her powerful frame managing the weight with ease.

The office building that housed Apex Connect loomed ahead. I walked into the shared lobby and, deciding to get my blood moving, took the stairs up to the third floor. Pushing through the glass doors into the Apex Connect offices, I saw the Rakiri receptionist look up from her console as I approached.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice a pleasant alto. “Sten, right? Tuli isn’t in yet, but your desk is all set up and ready in the dev pit.” She smiled, a genuine warmth in her expression this time.

“That’s me,” I confirmed, returning her smile. “Thanks. And what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking? I didn’t catch it yesterday.”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice smooth. “It’s Vasha.” I made a mental note of it. “Nice to meet you, Vasha,” I added. It was always important to keep the receptionist happy at any place you worked; they ended up being one of the most important people in the office for getting things done.

I walked past the reception desk, the sliding doors opening silently before me, and stepped into the main office. The office was quiet, with only a few people in yet. The receptionist must start early. In the Dev Area, or ‘dev pit’ as it was called, all the posters were still up. I was glad Tuli had listened to me about the posters. I wouldn’t want to start my new job by pissing off all the existing developers; that wouldn’t be a great way to build trust.

There was one desk, clear of the usual clutter that occupied them, with what looked like a sticky note stuck on the holo-display. It simply read ‘Sten’. The desks in the area were broken up into small clusters; mine was in a cluster with three other desks. I guessed that was the strike team that Tuli mentioned.

I settled into my chair and powered on the workstation. The holo-display flickered to life, displaying a clean, intuitive interface. I quickly navigated to the company-wide messaging and meeting app, scanning for any scheduled meetings for the morning. My eyes landed on the calendar, and I saw it: a 90-minute meeting with the executive level, starting at 1000. I swallowed. I love long meetings without an agenda.

As the minutes ticked by, more developers began to filter into the office. They moved with varying degrees of energy, some clutching steaming mugs, others already deep in conversation. As they noticed me, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The ears of the Rakiri developers twitched in my direction, their tails, which had been swaying with the rhythm of their chatter, went still. Many of them glanced my way, their expressions a mix of curiosity and something more akin to a leer. It was the usual mix I’d come to expect from alien women encountering a human man. I simply offered a polite, noncommittal nod to those who met my gaze.

Then, a small group of Rakiri entered the dev pit together, their chatter a mix of gruff-sounding words and laughter echoing slightly in the still-quiet space. They headed directly for my cluster of desks. As they approached, I pushed back my chair and stood up, offering a friendly smile.

One, with bright green eyes, was practically bouncing on her digitigrade feet, her tail giving a series of excited thumps against her leg as she was laughing. She stopped, mid-laugh, her gaze sweeping over me with an appraising look. Another, a shorter Rakiri with warm amber eyes, seemed to shrink into herself, her shoes suddenly fascinating, tail back and curled. The third was the tallest of the group, a quiet, solid presence with watchful green eyes and a calm demeanor.

“Good morning,” I said, extending a fist. “I’m Sten. I guess I’m the new guy on the strike team.” The boisterous one didn’t hesitate, meeting my fist with her own in a solid bump. “Tian!” she announced, her voice loud and cheerful. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Sten! This is Bria.” She gestured to the shorter, amber-eyed Rakiri, who offered a quick nervous nod, her eyes darting away from mine. “And this is Zyl.” The tall Rakiri, Zyl, didn’t meet my gaze directly, instead offering a slight, deferential nod, her green eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and something I couldn’t quite place. Her voice was a soft, deep rumble when she spoke. “Welcome.”

I glanced down at the time displayed in the corner of my workstation’s holo-display. It was nearly ten. “It’s great to meet you all,” I said, offering an apologetic smile. “But I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with the powers-that-be in a few minutes.” I gestured vaguely towards the executive offices. “After that, I’d love to catch up properly. Figure out what we’re actually meant to be doing.”

The three Rakiri nodded and stepped aside, clearing a path for me. I walked towards the designated meeting room, a glass-walled cube near the back of the office.

⸻

The meeting room was empty. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The clock on the wall showed it was exactly ten hundred. I took a seat at the long, polished table, wondering if their absence was a deliberate power play to put the new man in his place, or just a cultural quirk I hadn’t learned yet. Pulling out my data-slate, I started idly browsing The Weave, trying to get a better sense of Dirt.

A couple of minutes after ten, the door slid open and three Shil’vati women entered. One was Tuli, who gave me a brief, professional nod. The other two were strangers. They took seats on the opposite side of the table, their combined presence instantly making the room feel smaller.

“Sten, thank you for joining us,” Tuli began, her voice formal. “I’d like to introduce you to our leadership.” She gestured to the woman on her right, who was dressed in a sharp, impeccably tailored business suit of dark grey. Her silver hair was cut in a severe, geometric style, and her golden eyes were sharp and intelligent. “This is Xyla Z’ren, our Chief Executive Officer.”

Xyla gave me a curt nod, her expression all business. “Mr. Pallisen.”

Tuli then gestured to the woman on her left. She was older than the other two, her purple skin a slightly deeper shade, and she carried herself with an air of effortless authority that had nothing to do with her simple but obviously expensive clothing. Her dark hair was woven with threads of silver. She looked down her nose at me, her golden eyes slowly raking over my form in a way that was both dismissive and intensely appraising, a predatory leer touching her lips. “And this,” Tuli said, her voice dropping with a hint of reverence, “is Countess Ya’neis D’vejin, the owner of Apex Connect.”

“Good morning, Tuli, Xyla, Ya’neis,” I said with a friendly nod to each of them. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you all in person.”

Xyla’s expression tightened, a flicker of discomfort in her eyes. The Countess’s lips thinned into a displeased line, as if she’d bitten into something sour.

“Sten,” Tuli interjected quickly, her tone firm but not unkind. “You should address the Countess as ‘Countess D’vejin’.”

I immediately looked towards the Countess, offering an apologetic expression. “Oh, sorry, Countess D’vejin,” I said, giving a slight inclination of my head. “Nobility isn’t really a thing in most human cultures. We tend to be a bit informal. But I’ll do my best to remember.”

The Countess gave a curt nod, but her assessing gaze didn’t waver. Before the silence could get awkward, Xyla leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table. “Sen,” she began, her voice crisp and condescending. I suspected the mispronunciation wasn’t accidental.

“Tuli seems to believe your… background… is of some value. So, enlighten us. What could a primitive male possibly understand about the complexities of the modern dating market?” She let out a small, dismissive scoff. “And how, precisely, do you propose Pursuit gain market share when you’ve been on this planet for less than a standard day?”

I met her gaze evenly, refusing to be rattled. “As I told Tuli yesterday, my experience is from a different market, with a different culture and gender norms. But I did have a brief look at Pursuit and your main competitors this morning, Xyla.” I made sure to meet her eyes as I said her name. A small, calculated push.

“And I have to say, I’m surprised at how similar the three are. The UI, the features, the monetization… it’s almost identical. I’m curious why you haven’t tried to compete on price to gain market share. It’s not a long-term solution, but it’s easy to do and would give you some breathing room while you work on better ways to differentiate your product.”

“That is not an option,” the Countess interjected, her voice sharp and final. She didn’t raise it, but the authority in her tone was absolute. “There are… agreements in place with the other noble houses who have interests in this sector. A price war would be… unseemly.”

I held her gaze. Agreements. So, a cartel. I made a mental note not to ask about Imperial antitrust laws on my first day. Accusing the owner of the company of racketeering felt like a bad career move. “Sure,” I said.

I continued, thinking aloud. “As for the similarity in UI and colouration… I’d guess that’s due to a fairly monolithic culture here on Dirt. The user base is mostly Rakiri, so they probably all test similarly for preferences, leading to a convergence in design.”

Xyla nodded, her eyes sharp. “That is correct.”

“So,” I said, my gaze shifting to the Countess. “If we can’t compete on price, and the UI is already optimized for the local user base… I’m going to guess that competing on different premium features is also off the table, due to these… agreements.”

The Countess’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and she nodded.

“Well then,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “You need to improve engagement. You can always pour more users into the app if you increase marketing, but that’s not sustainable. You need to keep them.”

Xyla nodded. I continued, “Females are your credit source, but they go where the males are. And you’re third in the male rankings. I bet the market leader advertises that they have the most males of any dating app. Am I right?”

Xyla stayed silent. Tuli responded, “Yes, that’s correct, Sten.”

“To capture men, you need to convert them fast and early. The more likes they send in the first day, the more likely they are to be retained. I’m guessing the first thing you tried was showing only hot women to the men. But you didn’t see an increase in the number of likes. I’d say that the percentage of profiles they liked stayed at about two percent, regardless of whether they were hot or not?” I stated it as a fact, not a question.

Xyla’s professional mask slipped for a second, replaced by genuine surprise. “…You’re right, it didn’t change at all. And then we ran into an issue where we had no data for new female users, so they never got a hotness ranking.”

I nodded. “Yeah, people need contrast. If everyone is hot, then no one is.” I let that sink in for a moment, knowing the next part was the ugly side of the business.

“The first three days a new male user spends on Pursuit needs to be carefully curated. Ten percent of the females we show them should be hot. Twenty percent should be users we think they are likely to match with. The other seventy percent we’ll use for new, paying, and random females. And obviously, we need to filter out the cringy users - you know, the ones asking for feet pictures.”

Xyla looked genuinely taken aback. “Feet… what? Never mind. We don’t know who the user will match with. Or who’s ‘cringy’. Is that normal for Earth-based dating apps?”

It was my turn to be taken aback. “Well, yeah, of course. Most Earth-based apps can tell with an eighty percent accuracy who will match with who. Is that not normal here?”

Tuli interjected, “Why don’t you just show your users likely matches?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I looked at Countess D’vejin and gestured to her.

“Because, my dear Tuli,” the Countess stated very clearly, “we don’t care about matches. We care about them staying on our app and paying us.”

I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. What I was suggesting was effectively lying to new male users. I could just see the disclaimer now: ‘A user’s early experience on this product may not be indicative of their long-term experience’.

Xyla rejoined the conversation, “We don’t have all that. We can’t predict who will match with who, or who’s cringy, or any of that. We don’t have dedicated feeds for new users. How do you even do that?”

I nodded. “Data, tagging, and machine learning models. You start tagging users based on their interests. The content of their pictures, their location, activity, hair colour, race-everything. You build models, run A/B tests, repeat, and improve. And those ratios I gave? They won’t be right for Dirt. We’ll need to dial them in to whatever is most effective.” I paused for effect.

“Back on Earth, we got very good at this. Before a new female user had even seen a profile, we could predict who they’d match with, with a fifty percent probability. After twenty interactions, that rose to seventy percent.”

The three Shil’vati stared at me. Tuli’s brow furrowed in concentration, as if she were re-evaluating a complex equation. Xyla’s lips thinned, a flash of irritation in her eyes. It was the Countess, however, whose expression was most telling. A flicker of genuine, calculating interest crossed her face as she leaned forward slightly. “Female?” Tuli finally asked, breaking the silence.

I blinked, realizing my mistake. “Ah, right. On Earth, the dynamic is completely reversed. We have a one-to-one gender ratio, and males are the pursuers. It’s the women who are selective, who have the low ‘like’ rate. Our entire engagement model is built around that fundamental difference.”

Tuli spoke up then, her voice thoughtful. “The one-to-one gender ratio is common knowledge, of course. But the cultural differences that stem from it are… alien. That’s not something we considered when we hired you, to be frank.”

I nodded at Tuli, a wry smile touching my lips. “My experience is… quite different,” I began, leaning back in my chair slightly. “On Earth, before the ‘Integration’, it was closer, though less extreme, to what a woman would experience here in the Imperium. As a man, I’d do the chasing, sending messages into the void and hoping for a reply.”

I gestured to the room. “Now, after the Integration, and especially here on Dirt… my experience is very similar to a typical Imperial male’s. Perhaps with an added novelty factor.” The flood of messages I’d received this morning was a testament to that.

“But, back to the matter at hand,” I said, shifting my focus back to Xyla. “It’s your data pipelines and real-time classification algorithms we need to improve. Then, when you spend more on marketing, we can keep those males, and the females who pay the bills will come pouring in.”

Xyla looked at me, her expression shifting from surprise to a calculated coolness. “Well, now that we know that,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “why are we paying you?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. A genuine, open laugh that seemed to startle them. “Because you’re paying for the three years it will probably take to figure this all out on your own. I’m a shortcut, I can get you there in half that time,” I said, my amusement still evident.

I leaned forward, my expression turning serious. “There is a vast ocean of reefs and rocks between what you have now and a reactive recommendation engine that can dynamically scale as your userbase grows. That’s what you’re paying me for. To navigate that ocean.”

I added, “Besides, my princely wage is nothing compared to what you’ll need to spend on marketing. I can improve retention, but unless you pour more users into the app, that won’t matter much. More users almost always means more marketing, especially when there’s no real differentiation between you and your competitors.”

I looked directly at Xyla and let the silence sit in the room while they thought over what I’d said.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence with a cheerful, almost flippant tone. “Should I start looking for another job?”

⸻

I didn’t get fired.

Instead, the Countess let out a sharp, barking laugh that shattered the tension in the room. The sound was so unexpected that both Tuli and Xyla flinched. The Countess’s predatory smile returned, wider this time. “No, Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “No need to start job hunting. For now.”

The next two hours were a blur of pointed questions and strategic debate. Tuli acted as moderator, trying to keep the peace, while Xyla relentlessly poked holes in my proposals. “What about data governance?” she’d snap. “How do you account for seasonal user variance?” Her hostility was a constant, sharp edge, but I met each challenge with experience and logic.

Countess D’vejin remained mostly silent, a quiet, powerful presence at the head of the table. She was content to let her subordinates do the talking, but it was obvious where the real power lay. Whenever we came to a critical decision point, both Tuli and Xyla would look to her, and she would give a sharp nod or a subtle shake of her head, her decision absolute and unspoken. She interjected only a few times, but when she did, her questions were pointed and insightful, narrowing in on my experience on Earth and the nuances of human dating culture.

Finally, Xyla seemed to run out of ammunition. She leaned back, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and grudging acceptance. Tuli looked like she’d just run a marathon. As they gathered their data-slates to leave, the Countess raised a hand. “Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her voice calm and commanding. “A moment of your time, if you please.” She waited until Tuli and Xyla had filed out of the room, the glass door sliding shut behind them, before turning her full, undivided attention to me.

She leaned forward, her smile gone, replaced by a look of pure business. “Can you deliver?”

I had to stop myself from smirking. I could probably knock this out in ten months solo, but I’d promised a year and a half. The first rule of software development is to under-promise and over-deliver. Add in the inevitable scope creep, and a year and a half was a comfortable buffer. Let them think they were getting a bargain.

I met her gaze, my own expression turning serious. “Yes, with the following assumptions. I get the resources I need, and the engineers on my team are at least half-competent.” I paused, letting the conditions sink in. “But only if you call me Sten. Not Mr. Pallisen.”

The Countess barked another laugh, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Very well… Sten.” She leaned back, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Tell me, why do you needle Xyla so, using her first name?”

I shrugged, a small, calculated gesture. “To her, I’m a resource, not an expert. A primitive male she can manage. If I let her put me in that box, she’ll never listen to the experience you’re paying handsomely for.”

I paused, letting what I’d said sink in. “I need to break out of the mental box Ms. Z’ren has put me in if she’s ever going to listen. Hopefully, she’ll come to respect me. Then she’ll realize the needling isn’t disrespect. It’s an acknowledgment that while I’m her subordinate, I’m still going to speak truth to her.”

The Countess looked at me, “And if she doesn’t come to respect you?”

I smirked. “Well, then, I won’t be working for Apex anymore, and both her and I will be happier for it”.

The Countess looked at me for a long moment, expressionless. “You will have dinner with me tomorrow night,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “A car will be at your apartment at twenty hundred. It would have been tonight, but I’m seeing my daughter this evening while I’m in town.”

I met her gaze, held it for a beat. It wasn’t an invitation, it was a summons. I gave a sharp nod, mirroring hers over the last two hours. “What’s the dress code?”

A flicker of a smile touched her lips. “Casual will suffice for tomorrow. But you will acquire formal wear. You may be expected to attend events with me.” She leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a smirking purr. “One of the reasons I’m paying you so handsomely, Sten, is to show you off. You are, after all, our human dating expert.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

⸻

When I finally walked out of the meeting room, the dev pit was a hive of activity. A low hum of conversation and the clatter of keyboards. As I made my way back to my desk, conversations lulled and keyboards went quiet for a moment. The long, closed-door meeting with the top brass had clearly been the subject of some speculation.

My team - Tian, Bria, and Zyl - were all at their desks, their heads bent over their workstations. It was well past lunchtime, and my stomach was starting to protest.

“Hey,” I said, pulling up my chair. “Sorry about that. Long meeting.”

Tian spun around, her pink-streaked fur catching the light. “No worries! We figured. How’d it go?”

“It went,” I said with a noncommittal shrug. “I’m starving, though. Have you all eaten already?”

They all nodded. “Catered lunch,” Zyl rumbled, gesturing vaguely towards the kitchen area.

“Right. Well, I need to grab something. Is there a pub or something nearby?”

“There’s ‘Drnk’ on the ground floor,” Bria said, her voice barely a whisper. “They do food.”

“Perfect,” I said, an idea forming. “How about we all head down there? My shout. It’ll be a good chance to get to know each other properly, and it’s probably better if we’re not disturbing everyone else up here.”

Tian’s ears twitched, a flicker of curiosity warring with her reluctance. Bria shrank in on herself, her gaze fixed on her screen as if hoping to become invisible. Zyl was the one who finally met my eyes, her expression unreadable but hesitant.

I held up my hands, offering a reassuring smile. “Hey, if anyone gives you any grief about it, you tell them it was my idea. Blame it all on me. I’ll take the heat.”

That seemed to do the trick. After another moment of hesitation, they all slowly nodded. We stood up and walked towards the lifts. The ride down was a study in awkward silence. The three of them stood pressed against the back wall, their tails still, avoiding eye contact with me. They were clearly nervous, unsure of what to say or how to act around me.

I took the opportunity to study them properly for the first time. I was pretty sure I recognised Tian from my brief tour of the office yesterday. She was the one with the pink-dyed fur and bright green eyes, and was practically vibrating with suppressed energy. She stood a good foot taller than me, her muscular frame fidgeting slightly. Her hands flexing and unflexing at her sides, like someone who was used to constant motion and found stillness to be a chore. She was trying her best to stare at the lift’s control panel, but her bright green eyes kept flicking over to me every few seconds, a blatant curiosity she couldn’t quite contain.

Pressed into the corner was Bria, the smallest of the three. At roughly my own height, she seemed to be actively trying to make herself smaller, her shoulders hunched and her warm amber eyes fixed firmly on her feet. Her dark fur was flecked with patches of white frosting around her neck and ears, a subtle but beautiful pattern. Of the three, she seemed the most genuinely shy, her entire posture an apology for taking up space.

And then there was Zyl. She was a mountain. Easily the tallest of the group at what must have been close to seven and a half feet, her presence was one of absolute stillness. Her fur was a deep, rich brown, and her green eyes, when they briefly met mine, held a calm, steady intelligence. Unlike Tian’s fidgeting or Bria’s shrinking, Zyl just stood there, a quiet, solid anchor of a person. There was a reserved confidence about her, a quiet strength.

We exited the lift on the first floor and entered Drnk. It wasn’t a pub; it was a bar with the soulless, corporate feel of a place designed by committee. Glass, steel, and polished concrete - it had all the warmth of a surgical suite, and every identical chair was a monument to mass production. I grimaced internally but led the way inside, picking a corner table surrounded by a cluster of uncomfortable-looking stools.

As we sat, the silence from the lift followed us. I noticed a small icon on the table that lit up as I placed my data-slate near it. A menu appeared on my screen. I quickly ordered a starter to share - some sort of meat skewers with a dipping sauce - and a main for myself that the description vaguely reminded me of a burger: a minced patty served between two fried slices of Kresh Tuber. While I did this, I caught the girls stealing quick glances in my direction, their expressions unreadable but definitely curious.

“What are you all drinking?” I asked, turning to the girls.

Bria mumbled, “Just water, thanks.”

Tian and Zyl looked at each other for a beat, a silent conversation passing between them before Tian spoke up. “Amber Golds, please.”

“Make that three,” I said, adding the drinks to the order on my slate and confirming it.

I leaned forward slightly. “Alright, so, I’m Sten. I’ve been wrangling code for about fifteen years, most recently for one of the biggest dating apps back on Earth. Apparently, we’re the strike team that’s going to fix everything,” I finished sarcastically. “What have you all been told?”

Tian, Bria, and Zyl exchanged nervous glances, their shoulders slightly hunched. “We were told pretty much the same,” Tian confirmed, her voice reserved. She fidgeted subtly with her claws on the table, avoiding my direct gaze. “That we’re the new ‘strike team’ and that you’re going to be leading us. We’re all junior software engineers, so… we’re really hoping to learn a lot from you.” Bria nodded quickly, her silver-tipped fur swaying, while Zyl gave a hesitant, almost imperceptible nod, her green eyes wide and fixed on the table.

Zyl then cleared her throat, a soft, almost apologetic rumble. “Excuse me… can I… can I ask a question, Mr. Pallisen?”

I blinked, slightly confused by the formality. “Of course, Zyl, that’s why we’re here. Please, ask away! And please just call me ‘Sten’.”

Zyl’s gaze remained earnest, though she still seemed hesitant. “Aren’t you… aren’t you a senior software engineer?”

I smiled, trying to put them at ease. “Yeah, I am,” I confirmed. Zyl straightened slightly. “Then it is proper that we call you Mr. Pal…” she began, but I held up a hand. “Honestly? I don’t care about titles. Good ideas can come from anyone. On this team, there are no titles. Everyone speaks up. I want to hear what you think.”

I could almost see the unspoken thoughts passing between them, a lingering skepticism ingrained in their hierarchical work culture.

I leaned back as much as my stool allowed, a small smile playing on my lips. “How about we go around the table to kick things off? Name, where you’re from, and one thing about yourself. A hobby, an achievement, an embarrassing story. Whatever you want.”

Tian had a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. Bria looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole, while Zyl’s ears flattened against her head for a second before she quickly composed herself. The request was clearly not the norm.

“I’ll go first,” I offered, taking a deep breath. “My name is Sten Pallisen. I’m a human from Earth.”

Their expressions were a mixture of polite interest.

“I’ve got a pretty good story, but are you all okay with poop jokes?” I asked, a wry smile on my lips. Tian’s ears twitched, her expression a mix of confusion and morbid curiosity. Bria recoiled slightly, while Zyl just tilted her head, her analytical gaze trying to categorize this new, bizarre data point. A man telling a poop joke? They all gave hesitant nods.

“So, picture this: I’d just finished school back on Earth, feeling all adventurous. Decided to do some backpacking, you know, see the world.”

Tian interrupted, “What’s backpacking?”

“It’s… a kind of human pilgrimage, I guess,” I explained. “You live out of a bag, travel cheap, and see where the road takes you. Work for a bit, earn some credits, move on to the next place.” They exchanged puzzled looks; clearly, the concept was as alien as I was.

“Anyway, I ended up on this farm, working to earn a bit of cash. It was honest work, but let me tell you, it was farm work.”

I paused for dramatic effect, letting the image sink in.

“One sweltering afternoon, I was out in the fields, driving the tractor, minding my own business. And then, out of nowhere, it hit me. Not a gentle nudge, mind you, but a full-blown, gut-wrenching, ‘if-I-don’t-go-now-it’s-going-to-be-a-disaster’ kind of urge. A number two. A desperate need to take a dump, right then and there.”

Bria’s eyes widened. “Oh no, this is like my nightmare!”

“Exactly! Oh. No. There wasn’t a toilet for miles, and the farmhouse was a good fifteen-minute sprint away, and believe me, sprinting wasn’t an option. Whatever I’d eaten for breakfast was making a very aggressive exit strategy. So, I did the only thing I could. I slammed the tractor to a halt, jumped out and made a beeline for the nearest patch of bushes, hoping for some privacy.”

“Did you make it?” Tian asked, covering her mouth with her hand, a laugh threatening to escape.

“Nope! I ended up pulling my pants down right in the middle of the field. But here’s where it gets truly, spectacularly bad. I’m squatting there, doing my business, feeling a momentary sense of relief, when the next wave of panic hits. I hadn’t brought any toilet paper. Not a single square. My bum was, shall we say, in a rather compromised state. I was seriously contemplating sacrificing my underpants for the cause. Pretty grim, right? Well, it gets worse. Much, much worse.”

Tian leaned forward, her eyes wide with morbid fascination. Bria physically recoiled, her tail curled behind her as she looked away. Zyl just tilted her head, her furry ears twitching in confusion, clearly trying to process the social implications of what I was describing.

“Now, for context,” I continued, lowering my voice conspiratorially, “the farmer I was working for had a daughter. She was a bit younger than me, and let me tell you, she was absolutely stunning. I’d been spending the past week trying to impress her, dropping hints, hoping maybe, just maybe, we could ‘go for a roll in the hay’ sometime, if you catch my drift.” I winked.

Bria gasped, a mixture of horror, amusement, and shock on her face. I don’t believe any of the girls could believe I, a male, was telling this story.

“So, there I am,” I pressed on, “stuck in the middle of this vast paddock. Trying to figure out what I should do, and who should come cycling over the horizon? Like a vision in the midday sun bringing me lunch?”

I paused, letting the silence hang heavy.

“The farmer’s daughter,” I finished. My voice barely above a whisper. “The girl of my fantasies. In a summer dress, showing off her legs. She pulls up, smiling, holding a lunch basket, and I’m just… here. Pants around my ankles, open to the world, squatting over a pile of my own excrement. And I had to look her dead in the eye, the girl I was trying to woo, and ask her, ‘Excuse me, do you by any chance have any toilet paper? Or perhaps a napkin? I seem to be in a bit of a predicament.’”

The dam of their professional restraint broke. Tian let out a loud, barking laugh that made the glasses on the table rattle. Zyl’s shoulders shook with a deep, rumbling chuckle she tried to hide behind her hand. Even Bria, who had been looking horrified, let out a series of high-pitched, squeaking giggles she couldn’t contain.

I laughed too, a hearty, self-deprecating sound. “Yeah, it was pretty bad,” I admitted, still chuckling. “And no, I never did get that romp-in-the-hay with the farmer’s daughter.”

Tian, wiping a tear from her eye, managed to gasp, “A ‘romp-in-the-hay’ means… sex, right?”

“Yeah!” I confirmed, still grinning. “Of course!”

“So what happened?!” Bria asked, leaning forward, her earlier embarrassment forgotten in her eagerness for the conclusion.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “She shrieked, dropped my lunch on the ground, and rode away as fast as her bicycle could carry her. My underpants? Yeah, they got left in that paddock. And when I eventually got back to the farmhouse, the farmer kicked me out because I’d shown my junk to his daughter.” I laughed again, a full, booming sound. “At least he paid me for the week.”

Zyl tilted her head, her green eyes curious. “What does ‘junk’ mean, Sten?”

I grinned. “My cock, Zyl. My cock.”

Zyl shook her head, a soft chuff escaping her. “Why would the farmer kick you out? Her daughter should have helped you…” she trailed off. “Humans are so weird. So… alien,” she finished.

“The farmer was male,” I replied, shrugging. “Oh, I guess you’d need to reverse all the genders for it to make sense here. Ah, it doesn’t matter, you’re right, I guess to you all, humans are pretty alien!” I paused, then looked at Zyl. “Anyway, why don’t you go next, Zyl?”

Zyl’s ears twitched, a habit I was starting to notice, and she shifted in her seat, clutching her drink a little tighter. Her green eyes flickered to Tian and Bria, then back to me. “Oh, um, okay, Sten,” she began, her voice soft and a little shaky. “My name is Zyl. I’m twenty-four years old, and I’m from Gurathu. I’ve only been at Apex Connect for about six months now; this is my first job out of school.” She paused, taking a small, quick breath.

“And for my hobby,” she continued, her voice gaining a tiny bit more confidence, “I enjoy hunting.”

Hunting wasn’t exactly a common hobby for software engineers, at least not where I came from. But then again, Zyl was Rakiri, and stereotypes, I learned this morning, existed for a reason.

“Out there,” Zyl elaborated, her eyes taking on a distant, almost wistful look. “It’s just me, the quiet of the trees, and the ancient rhythm of the wild. The whole process. The hunt, the catch, the cleaning and roasting over an open fire… it’s just so relaxing. I always come back to Vors feeling completely refreshed.”

She looked at me then, her gaze holding mine for a moment. A silent question in her eyes as if wondering if I, a human man, could possibly understand. I simply nodded, a genuine interest on my face. I didn’t understand, I didn’t hunt. But I could appreciate that this meant a lot to her. I noticed Bria’s gaze drift to my arms, then quickly away, as if imagining me in a more…primal setting.

A thought sparked in my mind. “Is it still hunting season?” I asked gently, a genuine curiosity in my voice. “Maybe we could all do a team-building offsite at one of these cabins. Do some work, play some board games. Have some dinner! I’m an ok cook, if you can catch something Zyl.” I smiled, challenging her.

Zyl’s eyes widened in surprise, her tail giving a small, excited flick. “Yeah… I’d really like that,” she replied, a genuine smile breaking through her earlier nervousness.

“Alright, Bria,” I said, turning my gaze to her, a warm smile on my face. “You’re next.”

Bria’s tail gave a nervous twitch, wrapping around the leg of her stool. She took a sip of water, her claws making a soft clicking sound against the glass. Her gaze darted to Tian, who offered an encouraging nod, before settling somewhere on the table in front of me.

“Okay, sir,” she began, her voice soft and a little hesitant, much like Zyl’s had been. “My name is Bria. I’m twenty-three years old. Like Zyl and Tiandra, I’m also pretty new to Apex Connect; we all started on the same day, about six months ago, right out of school.” She paused, taking a sip of her drink, as if gathering her thoughts.

“And for my hobby,” she continued, her voice gaining a touch more confidence, “I… I enjoy painting models. Mostly mecha models, but also exos.” Her eyes flickered to mine. I heard a faint, almost imperceptible thumping of her tail, but her body froze, as if she was bracing for my reaction.

My eyes lit up. “Models? Mecha!?” I exclaimed, leaning forward, a genuine excitement bubbling up inside me. “That’s fantastic! Do you ever wargame with your models, Bria?”

Bria shook her head, her tail-thumping became more noticeable. “Oh, no, sir. I just… I just like painting them. I don’t really play wargames.”

“Ah, I see,” I replied, though my interest didn’t wane. “Well, that’s still really cool. I’d love to see some of your painted models sometime, they sound amazing. Did you happen to bring any into the office today?”

Bria nodded shyly, her eyes still downcast. “Y-yes, sir. I have a few on my desk.”

I looked at her, “Maybe you show me yours later then?” I waggled my eyebrows, teasing her. Bria hunched her shoulders and she immediately looked at the desk. Tian outright laughed while Zyl chuffed along.

“I’ll show you mine any time you want Sten!” Tian laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Bria’s hunch deepened even further, and she started shifting her weight as she buried her face towards the desk.

“Y-yes!” Bria stammered, her gaze still fixed on the table, but a small, eager smile touched her lips.

Tian straightened up, a confident smirk playing on her lips, before I could even ask her. “Okay, Sten,” she began, her voice clear and strong. “My name is Tian. I’m twenty-four years old, and I’m from Vors, just like Bria and Zyl. Like Bria said, we all started at Apex Connect the same day, we actually went to school together.”

“And for my story,” she declared, puffing her chest out just a little, “I play grav-ball. I’m the starting striker for the Vor’s Scratch Voles!”

My eyebrows shot up. “Grav-ball? What is that?”

Tian’s grin widened, her eyes lighting up with passion. “Oh, you’re in for a treat! It’s the best sport on Ryksfell. Imagine a high-fenced arena. Two teams of six, all wearing anti-grav boots that let us glide across the field at insane speeds. We use these long sticks with nets on the end to scoop up the ball and pass it between teammates. The goal is to throw the ball into the other team’s net, but here’s the fun part: full contact is encouraged. It’s fast, brutal, and you get to hit people. What’s not to love?”

That sounds like a weird combination of ice hockey and lacrosse, trying to find a human comparison. “Sounds intense. I’d love to see it! Do you wear pads or something?”

“Yeah… too many broken bones otherwise,” she said with a wink.

“Which brings me to my story.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “So, last season, we were in the semi-finals. Packed stadium, the whole deal. It’s the final quarter, scores are tied, and I get a breakaway. I dodge two defenders, stiff-arm another, and I am home free. I scored the winning point, and the crowd goes absolutely wild.”

She paused, a dramatic flair in her eyes. “So I start celebrating. Do a little victory dance, blow a kiss to the crowd… you know, maybe impress a good-looking boy. What I didn’t see was the other team’s biggest player, an eight-foot mountain of a woman, who had been chasing me down. She hit me so hard I think my ancestors felt it. Full-on blindside tackle, long after the play was dead. I went flying, landed flat on my back, and had the wind knocked clean out of me.”

Zyl, Bria, and I winced in sympathy.

“But that’s not the worst part,” Tian continued, a grimace on her face. “The ref threw a flag. On me. For taunting. The penalty moved the other team into scoring range, they tied the game, and we ended up losing in overtime. All because I was too busy showboating to pay attention. My coach didn’t speak to me for a week.”

She slumped back in her chair, the story finished. “So yeah. That was pretty embarrassing.”

“Did you catch up with that player that body-slammed you?” I asked, laughing.

“Her? Oh yeah. Tried to lay her out in overtime, but it was like hitting a rock wall. We ended up sharing a pitcher of Red-Grain after. She’s a beast on the field, but decent people.”

The laughter from Tian’s story slowly subsided, leaving a warm, comfortable silence in its wake. Just then, the food arrived. The skewers were sizzling, smelling of charred meat and some kind of sweet glaze, and my Kresh burger looked surprisingly appetizing.

“Well, this looks… interesting,” I said, picking up one of the tuber ‘buns’.

The conversation flowed easily after that, punctuated by the sounds of us eating and the clinking of glasses. We talked about Tian’s grav-ball team, the Voles, and their chances in the upcoming season. I learned about Bria’s meticulous process for painting her models, the specific brands of paint she preferred, and the online communities where she shared her work. Zyl, it turned out, was a surprisingly good storyteller when talking about the wilderness, describing the strange and beautiful creatures she’d encountered on her hunts.

I kept the topics light, deliberately steering clear of work. My goal was to dismantle the wall of formality and see the people I’d be working with. As the afternoon wore on, I could see the change. The rigid postures softened, their tails, which had been still with nervousness, began to sway with amusement or flick with interest. Bria even started making eye contact, her shy smiles becoming more frequent.

Their curiosity about me was a quiet, constant undercurrent. They never asked directly about Earth, or what it was like to be a human male in a female-dominated galaxy. But I felt their eyes on me. When I was explaining the rules of some ridiculous human drinking game, I caught Zyl watching me with an intense, analytical focus, as if trying to deconstruct my biology from my words alone. Later, while Tian was passionately arguing about the best grav-ball teams, I glanced over and saw Bria staring, a soft, dreamy look in her amber eyes, before she quickly looked away. Even Tian, for all her bravado, would sometimes pause mid-sentence, her gaze lingering on my beard or the shape of my hands before she’d shake her head and continue.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… there. A silent acknowledgment of the alien in their midst.

Finally, after a third round of Amber Golds, I glanced at the time. The afternoon had slipped away. “Alright, team,” I said, pushing my empty plate away. “This has been great, but I think I’m going to probably call it a day. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow.”

They nodded, a new sense of camaraderie settling over the group. The awkwardness from the lift felt like a distant memory.

⸻

Chapter 4 - Dates

It’s a common paradox of human experience; settling into something new feels like it takes forever. Looking back, however, the transition was faster than you remember. I was still finding my footing on Dirt, but my daily routine was becoming normal. Stinky showers, breakfast, and the walk through Vors were now familiar.

The awkward office tension from yesterday had lessened. I was the first of the team to arrive and found the dev pit quiet and still. I dropped into my chair, the silence was a welcome opportunity to gather my thoughts before the day began in earnest. As the developers arrived they still gave me odd and interested looks. Their noses often twitched in my direction, but for now, they kept their distance. The girls arrived together, their quiet chatter breaking the stillness. They spotted me and their conversation trailed off as they approached my desk. Tian shot me a wide grin. Bria offered a small, shy smile, and Zyl gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment.

The first order of business was getting my workstation operational. I set up my IDE and connected to the version control system. Then, we spent the rest of the day exploring the existing codebase. As we worked, I noticed the girls would cast nervous glances towards the other developers in the rest of the dev pit. To foster the kind of casual, relaxed team atmosphere I wanted, I herded them into a nearby meeting room as much as possible. Keeping them away from the prying eyes and twitching noses of the other devs seemed to help them open up.

By the end of the day, not a single line of new code had been written, but that wasn’t the point. I had a much clearer picture of the tangled mess we were dealing with, and more importantly, a better read on the skills of my team members. They were keen, eager to learn, but it was clear they were juniors. Very demure, very mindful of the hierarchy. I had to constantly push them for their opinions, reminding them that on this team every voice mattered.

Lunch was an interesting cultural lesson. The office catering was good, and I opted for the Shil selection which was a more balanced meal. The portion size was clearly meant for a Shil’vati, and I only managed to get through about half of it before I was stuffed. My Rakiri teammates, however, went straight for the all-meat options. Their plates were piled high with various cuts and sausages, a diet that would likely ruin my guts. I made a mental note to ask if doctors on Dirt even knew what scurvy was.

Over the course of the day, the girls relaxed a little more. They saw that I wouldn’t snap at them for asking questions or offering a dissenting opinion. It would take time to build the kind of open, collaborative team I wanted, but it felt like an achievable goal.

Just as we were packing up, Tian, acting as the unofficial spokesperson, asked if I wanted to grab a drink with them after work. I had to turn them down for now. “Sorry, not tonight,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I’ve got a… business meeting with the boss.” I let the implication hang in the air. “But I’d love to go another night. Maybe we can make it a regular thing?” Tian looked both happy and disappointed.

The walk home was brisk, the cool air a welcome contrast to the stuffy meeting room. The day’s progress left me in a surprisingly good mood. I felt a familiar ache in my legs, a reminder of how much sitting my job involved. I’d have to start using the gym membership Tuli had mentioned. Maybe in the mornings, before work. It would be a good way to start the day and burn off some of the… generous catering.

Back in my apartment, I knew I couldn’t go into a ‘business meeting’ with the Countess on an empty stomach. I needed to have my wits about me tonight. I found one of the protein paste pouches and downed it quickly. It wasn’t gourmet, but it would do the job. With that taken care of, I took a long, hot shower, the sulfur-scented water washing away the mental fatigue of the day. Dressed in a pair of clean, dark trousers and a crisp button-down shirt, I browsed The Weave on my data-slate, killing time while I waited for my ride.

⸻

The sleek, black ground-car that purred to a stop outside my building was the kind of vehicle that whispered wealth. The door slid open with a near-silent hiss, revealing a plush interior that smelled of real leather and expensive air fresheners. The driver was a Rakiri woman, her fur a uniform, glossy black. She was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe.

The driver got out, her movements efficient and precise, and opened the rear door for me. “Mr. Pallisen?” she asked, her voice a low, professional rumble. I nodded and climbed in, sinking into the plush leather. She closed the door silently, returning to the driver’s seat. The car pulled away from the curb with a smooth, effortless acceleration.

The silence in the car was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the propulsion unit. I decided to try and break it. “So,” I began, trying for a casual tone. “Do you work for the Countess often?”

The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable. “I am in the Countess’s employ, yes.” Her voice was polite but offered nothing more.

“She seems… intense,” I prodded, hoping for a crack in the professional facade.

A small, almost imperceptible smirk touched the driver’s lips. “The Countess values efficiency,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. Her non-answer told me a good deal. ‘Values Efficiency’ is exactly how I’d described my closest friends.

The rest of the drive was silent. We pulled up to a building that was unlike anything else I’d seen in Vor’s Scratch. It was a sleek, modern tower of black glass and steel that soared a good ten stories above the surrounding three-story walk-ups. It was a statement of wealth and power, a middle finger to the city’s rustic charm.

As I stepped out of the car, a figure emerged from the building’s entrance. She was a Shil’vati, slender and dressed in a simple but elegant uniform. She gave a slight, formal bow. “Mr. Pallisen. If you would follow me.” Her voice was soft, her demeanor that of a well-trained servant.

I followed her into a lobby that looked more like a modern art gallery than a residential building. We took a private lift that shot upwards with a stomach-lurching speed. The doors opened directly into a sprawling penthouse apartment. The first thing that hit me was the view. One entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking panorama of the city lights spread out below.

In the center of the room was a single dining table set for two - complete with fine china, polished silverware and sparkling crystal glasses. It was a scene straight out of a high-end restaurant. The butler, or whatever she was, pulled out a chair for me. “The Countess will be with you shortly,” she said, before disappearing as silently as she had appeared.

I sat, feeling slightly out of place in the opulent surroundings. Several minutes later, the Countess Ya’neis D’vejin swept into the room. She was a vision in a simple but elegant dark gown that shimmered under the soft light, the fabric clinging to her powerful frame in a way that was both intimidating and alluring. The sight of it made my own smart-casual attire feel woefully inadequate, like I’d worn shorts to a funeral. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the point. She moved with an effortless grace, her presence commanding the space.

“Sten,” she said, her voice a low purr as she took the seat opposite me. “I trust your journey was acceptable.”

“It was very comfortable, thank you,” I replied. “This is quite a place you have here. Is this your home?”

A small, dismissive smile touched her lips. “Hardly. This is merely my Vor’s Scratch residence, for when business requires my presence. I reside in New Dirt City. Vor’s is far too… provincial for my tastes.”

I just nodded, a small smile playing on my own lips. Being late for a dinner meeting in your own apartment. For someone who ‘valued efficiency’, that was woefully inefficient.

“It’s quite a view,” I commented, gesturing towards the window.

“It’s an acceptable backdrop,” she replied, her tone dismissive. “I’ve taken the liberty of hiring the best Shil’vati chef in Vor’s Scratch for our meal this evening. I hope you’ll find it satisfactory. We’ll be having proper Shil food, not that… local Rakiri meat slop.”

I didn’t say anything, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment. Her casual bigotry was noted.

Finally, she broke the silence, her tone shifting slightly. “So, tell me, Sten. What kind of food do you prefer?”

“To be honest, Countess, I’ve never really tried proper Shil food,” I admitted. “What I’ve had has been the catered lunches at work, which I assume are a decent example, and the food on the trip here, which probably isn’t. As for Rakiri food, I’ve only had it a couple of times. Imperium food was always a novelty, a rare treat. Far too expensive to get regularly back on Earth. I doubt what I had was a standout example of the heights of either cuisine.”

“And Earth food?” she prompted, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “What is your preference there?”

“Cape-Malay,” I said without hesitation. “It’s a regional cuisine from Earth, a fusion of styles. It’s known for using aromatic spices like cinnamon and turmeric, and has a unique balance of sweet and savory. It’s less about pure heat and more about a fragrant, full-bodied flavour. It’s… an experience.”

“Is that the part of Earth you are from?” she asked, her gaze analytical.

I laughed, a genuine, open sound. “Oh no, not at all. It’s quite hard to find outside of its home region. That’s probably why I like it so much. It’s rare, different, Exotic.”

The Countess nodded slowly, a slow, lecherous smile spreading across her face as her golden eyes began a deliberate appraisal, raking over me from my bald head down to my chest. “Exotic,” she murmured, her voice a low, appreciative purr.

I let her look, my own eyes staying firmly locked on hers, watching her watch me. Finally, her eyes met mine again. She cleared her throat, and asked, “What part of Earth are you from, Sten? I’ve heard that before the Integration your world was fractured into hundreds of different ‘countries’. Such a novel concept.”

A wry grin touched my lips. “That’s a complicated question, Countess D’vejin.” I didn’t answer her directly. “I moved around a lot. Every couple of years, I’d get the itch. I’d sell what I owned, pack a bag, and move to a new country. A new culture, a new language, a new adventure.”

She looked genuinely surprised, her brow furrowing slightly. “But why? Why not settle down? Find some wives and become a kept man?”

I laughed, a soft, genuine sound. “To each their own, but that’s never been for me. Before the ‘Integration’, I had two hundred or so countries and thousands of distinct cultures to explore on one little planet. Now?” I gestured vaguely towards the star-dusted view outside the window. “Now I have how many thousands of planets? How could I possibly be content to stay still?”

The Countess stared at me, her expression a mixture of surprise and fascination. “But what of wealth? Stability?”

“Wealth exists to be spent,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s no good to me after I’m dead. Maybe I’ll slow down when I’m older and regret my choices then. But for now,” I said, meeting her gaze, “a wanderlust fills my heart.”

A flicker of concern crossed her face, her carefully constructed composure wavering for a moment. “Are you going to leave us soon, Sten?”

I smiled, a reassuring, easy grin. “No, Countess. Not for a couple of years, at least. Dirt will keep me busy for a while. I haven’t even scratched the surface of Vor’s Scratch yet.”

She visibly relaxed, a hint of relief in her eyes. “That was a terrible pun.” I shrugged and nodded.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze turning analytical again. “So, you have no attachments? No girlfriend, no wife left back on Earth?”

“No, nothing like that,” I confirmed. “Only ex-girlfriends. Many of them wanted to settle down, have a family. I didn’t want that, didn’t want kids. They couldn’t accept it. So, we parted ways.”

The Countess looked at me, a thoughtful, almost clinical curiosity in her eyes. “Human men really don’t fit the cultural norms for the Imperium,” she mused, more to herself than to me. “So independent. So… willful.”

The dinner progressed from there. The butler, silent and efficient, brought out course after course. This wasn’t a hearty, home-cooked meal; it was a performance. Each dish was a work of art, a statement of wealth and taste. Large, almost painfully white plates held tiny, exquisitely arranged portions. There were swirls of brightly coloured sauces, delicate towers of vegetables shipped in from off-world colonies and even a sprinkling of what looked suspiciously like gold leaf on one of the desserts. It was the kind of food that was sourced from a small-batch farm, harvested by hand-reared mermaids who had to dive the depths of lakes made of lava to find ice flowers.

The wine was a Shil’vati vintage, also flown in, overly sweet for my palate, but the Countess seemed to enjoy it. She made sure my glass was never empty, her hand hovering over the bottle, ready to top it up the moment I took a sip. It was clear she wanted to get me drunk, to loosen my inhibitions, and see what may happen. I nursed my glass, taking small, deliberate sips, playing along with her game.

The conversation flowed, not naturally, but it flowed. The Countess was obviously fascinated by Earth, and I had stories to tell. I answered her questions about human history, our strange customs, and the bizarre concept of nation-states, but I kept trying to direct the conversation back to her.

“How was your daughter?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “You mentioned you were seeing her earlier.”

The Countess’s expression tightened for a fraction of a second. “She is fine,” she said. Her answer was short, clipped.

“Does she work at one of your businesses here in Vor’s?” I pressed gently.

“Oh, no,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She’s… going through something of a rebellious phase. You know how young people can be.” She then leaned forward, her eyes bright with a renewed curiosity, quickly changing the subject. “You mentioned your father. Does he have the same ‘wanderlust’ as you?”

“In a way,” I replied. “He was born in a small village in the Indonesian archipelago, to missionary parents. So I suppose the travel is in my blood.”

“Oh? What are missionaries?” she asked, her curiosity genuine.

I found it very hard to get any information out of her. She was clearly more skilled than I was at directing a polite conversation. Every time I tried to ask about her, her family, or her businesses, she would answer vaguely before expertly pivoting back to me, her questions relentless and insightful. By the end of the evening, her professional veneer had melted away, replaced by a giggly, drunken haze. I, on the other hand, having carefully paced myself felt only a light, pleasant buzz.

She’d managed to drag me over to a large Turox-leather settee, insisting I admire the view from a more ‘comfortable’ position. The ‘settee’ was absurdly opulent. The Countess told me a story about its backstory - handcrafted by monks sworn to vows of chastity, silence, and to never wipe their own asses. Or something.

At some point, she had kicked off her shoes. Now, she draped herself over the settee, her body pressing against mine. Her breasts, firm and well-formed, pushed against my arm as her fingertips roamed over my chest. She leaned in close, her warm, wine-scented breath tickling my ear. “I’ve heard,” she whispered, her voice a low, husky purr. “That human males have… quite the stamina. Is that true, Sten? Can I get a demonstration?”

There was no denying she was an attractive woman. Older, perhaps, but gorgeous. Long legs, hair that was perfectly coiffed even in her drunken state, and a body that was on the thinner side for a Shil’vati, but clearly promised a smooth ride. She was also, without a doubt, a venomous snake. And while I was quite happy to put my dick in crazy, this particular brand of crazy was a bear trap lined with razor wire. I wondered how many husbands she had. Now probably wasn’t the time to ask.

Instead of pulling away, I leaned into her, pressing my body against hers and burying my face in the curve of her neck. She smelled of expensive perfume, and something else, something uniquely Shil’vati. I let my lips brush against the soft skin just below her ear.

“It would be a pleasure to demonstrate my stamina, Countess,” I whispered, my voice a low rumble against her skin. “But all this wonderful wine you’ve plied me with would surely impair my performance. And a woman like you, Countess Ya’neis D’vejin, deserves only the very best.”

I punctuated the sentence with a soft, lingering kiss on her earlobe. Then, before she could react, I pulled back, untangling myself from her embrace and rising from the settee in one motion.

She stared up at me from the settee, her drunken haze momentarily clearing, replaced by a look of raw, predatory focus. Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she looked more Rakiri than Shil, a huntress about to pounce. Before she could speak, before that focused energy could translate into action, I broke the spell.

“Can I see you again, Ya’neis?” I asked, my voice calm and steady, deliberately using her first name.

My question seemed to short-circuit her brain. The predatory look vanished, replaced by genuine shock. Men didn’t ask her out. It wasn’t how things were done. She was the one who pursued, who chose, who conquered. My simple question had completely broken her expectations.

She stared at me for a long moment, her mouth slightly agape. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. A smile that reached her eyes and softened her features. “Yes, Sten,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “I would like that very much. I will be back in Vor’s Scratch in a couple of weeks. I will be in touch.”

I took her hand, which was resting on the arm of the settee. I brought it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I look forward to it,” I said, my eyes holding hers, trying to keep her just a little off balance. With a final, polite nod, I turned and walked towards the door, leaving her sitting there, a look of surprise on her face.

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. The same Rakiri driver was waiting for me, her expression as unreadable as ever. As we pulled up to my building, I turned to her. “The Countess,” I said, my voice thoughtful, “values a great many things.”

The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. A flicker of something - amusement? pity? - crossed her face before the professional mask snapped back into place. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I’m glad to see you’re home safely.”

That was quite an indication of exactly what kind of woman the Countess was. My position here on Dirt just became a lot more complicated.

⸻

An old team-lead of mine, a grizzled veteran of the dot-com bubble and bust, had shared a truism with me many years ago that had stuck with me ever since: “Months of coding can save you hours of planning.” I’d taken his sarcastic wisdom to heart. The next day was spent almost entirely away from the dev pit, huddled in one of the glass-walled meeting rooms. We spent the day digging into the data layer of Pursuit, sketching out on the holo-board how we could, over the next couple of weeks, start to build the foundations of what we needed.

My team, Tian, Bria, and Zyl, seemed genuinely excited to be involved in this part of the process. Their eyes were bright, their tails giving interested flicks as they followed my diagrams and explanations.

“Do you not normally get involved in the planning?” I asked during a lull in the conversation.

Zyl shook her head, her green eyes serious. “No. Normally, the seniors just assign tasks to us from the project board. We spend our days completing those tasks.”

I shook my head, a frown touching my lips. “But without understanding the overall goal, how can you know the best way to implement each task?”

Bria spoke up then, her voice soft but clear. “During the code review process, the implementation might get rejected. That’s often when we discover how our little module is going to interact with the greater whole.”

I stared at her for a long moment, my mind struggling to process what she’d just said. I ran a hand over my bald head. “Let me get this straight,” I said slowly, my voice carefully neutral. “You write a whole piece of code, and submit it for review. Only then, when it gets rejected, do you find out you were building it wrong because you didn’t have the full picture?”

The three of them exchanged glances before Bria gave a hesitant nod.

“That’s insane,” I said, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. “That’s a colossal waste of your time. How do you learn software architecture?”

Another series of shared looks, an acknowledgment of shared misery, followed by shrugging.

“Okay,” I said, my tone firm but reassuring. “That stops now. On this team, we plan together, we learn together. We build together, and we succeed or fail together. I promise.”

We all had lunch together again, grabbing a table for four and keeping to ourselves. The food was good, but the portion size was still ridiculous. I managed less than half of my meal before pushing the plate away, defeated. I promised myself I’d head to the gym tomorrow morning before work.

As we walked back to our meeting room, Tian fell into step beside me. “Hey, Sten,” she said, her voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. “Are you busy after work tonight? Maybe we could all go to the pub?”

“Yeah, let’s!” I said with a genuine smile. Tian’s grin was infectious, and I saw Bria and Zyl exchange happy, relieved glances behind her.

After work, the four of us walked out of the office building together, a palpable sense of excitement buzzing between the girls. Their chatter was light and cheerful, a stark contrast to their usual quiet focus in the office. Tian was practically bouncing, her tail giving a series of happy thumps against her leg. We passed the soulless, corporate bar on the ground floor, ‘Drnk’, without a second glance. Instead, we headed down the street, towards the familiar, welcoming sign of ‘The Broken Pick’.

I bought the first round before the girls could figure out what I was doing, and set the drinks down at a table in the corner with a long, padded bench against the wall. There was a quiet shuffle as Bria and Zyl slid onto the bench on either side of me, effectively surrounding me, while Tian took a chair opposite. A thought that had been nagging at me resurfaced. “Can I ask a question about local culture?” I said, taking a sip of my Amber Gold.

The girls all nodded, their expressions curious.

“I’ve noticed a pattern with business names here,” I began. “The big places, like ‘Drnk’ downstairs, or the supermarket ‘Fod’. They all have these shortened, almost hipsterish names, and often feel a bit soulless? But then you have places like this, ‘The Broken Pick’, with a proper descriptive name. What’s the deal with that?”

Zyl spoke up, her deep voice calm and informative. “That’s because places like ‘Drnk’ and ‘Fod’ are owned by Shil’vati mega-corporations or noble houses. It’s a branding trend they have. The places with proper names, like this one, are usually Rakiri-owned.” She took a sip of her drink, her green eyes watching me over the rim of her glass. “How did you know about this pub, Sten? It’s not exactly on the main thoroughfare.”

“Oh, I met some friends here on one of my first nights in town,” I said with a casual shrug.

The three of them exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Their expressions were a mixture of interest and a healthy dose of suspicion. Friends?

“What’s with all the Shil ownership on Dirt, anyway?” I asked, genuinely curious. “It’s the Rakiri homeworld, after all. Take Apex, for example. The owner is the Countess. You’d think a Rakiri would be better placed to build a dating app for a planet where almost all the customers are going to be Rakiri.”

The girls looked at each other, another silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Tian spoke up, her usual boisterous tone a little more subdued. “It’s a holdover from when Dirt joined the Imperium. The Shil’vati corporations and noble houses had the capital to invest, so they bought up a lot of the major industries.”

Zyl interjected, her voice a low rumble. “There are some Rakiri-owned mega-businesses, but they’re in the minority.”

“And it’s hard for new Rakiri businesses to get started,” Tian added, a hint of frustration in her voice. “The Imperium and the Governess have set so many regulatory requirements. It’s tough to keep up.”

“So, regulatory capture?” I asked, the term coming to me unbidden.

Bria looked at me, her amber eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “What’s that?”

“It’s when powerful groups, like big corporations or noble houses I guess, influence the government to create regulations that are so complicated and expensive to follow that it makes it almost impossible for new, smaller businesses to enter the market,” I explained. “The established players can afford to comply, but the newcomers can’t, so they get squeezed out.”

Bria nodded slowly, her expression turning to one of dawning recognition. “Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “That’s exactly what’s happening. Small businesses exist, but it’s very hard for them to grow.”

I nodded, a grim look on my face. “That sucks. It was common back on Earth, too. Even before the Imperium arrived.”

Tian leaned forward, her curiosity overriding the somber mood. “What was Earth like, Sten? Before the Shil, I mean. How did people… date?”

“It was the same, but different,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t know if the Shil really changed that part of things. People met at clubs or bars, at music festivals, through friends of friends. Or through hobbies, like gaming. And, of course, on apps like Pursuit.”

The girls reacted with surprise. “‘Music festival?’” Bria asked.

“Imagine thousands of people gathered in a field for a few days, listening to bands play on massive stages,” I explained.

“And men gamed?” Tian asked, her eyes wide.

“Heaps of men gamed,” I confirmed. “Lots of women did too, but men were probably the majority, depending on the genre. I used to game a lot. Probably will again, once I’m settled.”

“So, the dating apps on Earth…” Zyl began, “is that why we’re improving the data reporting? To make it more like them?”

“In a way,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “To grow Pursuit, we need more men on the platform. It’s a simple numbers game. But to get more men, we need to make sure the ones who join stay. Right now, our retention is terrible because their first experience is a flood of… everything. So, we’re going to curate their first few days. We’ll show them women who will actually interest them, and we’ll keep the creeps and the low-effort profiles away from them until they’re hooked. It’s about creating a positive feedback loop right from the start.”

“Isn’t that… lying?” Bria asked, her voice small.

“Well, yes. It is,” I admitted frankly. I looked around at the three of them. “Why do you think Pursuit exists?”

They looked at each other. “For men and women to meet each other?” Tian offered.

“Is that why Countess D’vejin started it?” I countered.

A thoughtful silence fell over the table.

“She probably started it to make money,” Zyl said finally, her voice low. “And she makes more money if girls stay on the app longer, not if they meet men and start families.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” Bria whispered, looking troubled. “Immoral?”

I took a long sip of my drink. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “That’s a decision each of you will have to make for yourselves. But that’s what our boss’s boss wants, and that’s who’s paying us. And frankly, I like getting paid.”

We sat and drank in a heavy silence for a bit, the weight of the conversation settling over us. Finally, Bria turned to me, her amber eyes full of a new, more personal curiosity. “Sten… did you date much on Earth?”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied with an easy smile.

Bria pressed on, her curiosity getting the better of her shyness. “Do you have a girlfriend now? How many have you had?”

“No girlfriend now,” I said, my smile fading slightly. “Broke up with my last one a couple of months before I moved here. She wasn’t interested in leaving Earth.” I took a sip of my drink. “As for how many… I’m not really sure. A couple in school. I’ve had some friends with benefits, some serious girlfriends, some fun ones. It’s hard to say what counts as a ‘girlfriend’ or not, you know?”

The three of them stared at me, their expressions a mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and fascinated curiosity. “Friends with… benefits?” Tian repeated, her head tilted.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s when you’re friends with someone… and you also have sex. But there’s no romantic commitment. It’s just… a benefit of the friendship.”

Zyl’s brow furrowed, her tail giving a slow, confused twitch against the bench. “But… why?” she asked, her deep voice laced with genuine bafflement. “If you like someone enough to share intimacy… why would you not want to form a bond? A pack? It seems…”

“And what do you mean, serious girlfriends or casual ones?” Tian asked, jumping in before I could answer Zyl, her own curiosity overriding the cultural disconnect.

“It’s a similar idea,” I said, addressing both of them. “Sex is fun, but a real relationship, a pack, I guess, is more than just sex. Sometimes you’re great as friends, you have a physical connection, but you know a long-term partnership just wouldn’t work. Maybe there’s an age gap, or you have completely different priorities in life. A casual girlfriend is someone you’re dating, but you both know it’s not leading to a long-term commitment for those same reasons. It’s about enjoying the moment. A serious girlfriend… that’s when you’re building something together. You’re a team. You’re planning a future, maybe even talking about marriage or moving in together. It’s a deeper level of commitment.”

“How many girls have you had sex with?” Tian blurted out, her own curiosity overriding the cultural disconnect. The question hung in the air for a second before her tail started curling behind her in embarrassment. Bria’s amber eyes went wide, while Zyl leaned forward slightly, her gaze analytical, as if she were about to start taking notes.

I just laughed, a warm, easy sound. “Honestly? Probably a bit above the norm back on Earth, but I moved around a lot. Does it really matter? Is this so different here on Dirt?”

The girls exchanged glances. It was Zyl who answered, her voice thoughtful. “Yes, very different. For most Rakiri, dating is more… formal. Sometimes families are involved early on. It’s rare for a woman to date lots of different men, unless she’s very wealthy or from a high-ranking noble house. Most just date a couple of men before they find a partner and settle down to start a pack.”

“So, what about you three?” I asked, turning the tables. “Any of you have a boyfriend?”

All three of them shook their heads, a fresh wave of curls spreading across their tails. “I got to kiss a boy once,” Tian admitted, a hint of pride in her voice. “In a club.”

Zyl let out a soft, rumbling chuckle. “Yeah, and then he vomited all over you.”

“I’ve been there, Tian,” I said with a laugh, raising my glass to her.

Tian, trying to distract from her embarrassment, quickly turned the attention back to me. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

“Well,” I began, leaning back against the padded bench. “I met this girl in a club back on Earth. We were chatting, I was buying her drinks, we danced a bit. The usual stuff. She seemed into me. Then she said she had to go home to look after her kid, but maybe I could come over the next afternoon?”

I paused, letting them picture the scene. “So, I thought I was in. The next afternoon, I got dressed up, bought a bottle of wine, and turned up at her house. And there she is, with her daughter… and her boyfriend, this massive Russian guy. She just smiles, pulls out a computer, and asks me to fix it. Because, you know, I’m an IT guy.”

“So I wasn’t in,” I finished with a laugh.

The girls erupted in laughter. “Oh, that’s rough,” Zyl managed between chuffs. “We had guys try that in school. They’d flirt a bit and then ask you to do their homework for them.”

“See?” I said, grinning. “It crosses species. We’ve all been young, dumb, and horny.”

“Are you still?” Tian asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not young anymore,” I said with a wink. “Just the other two.”

Tian snorted. Zyl’s tail gave a slow, amused thump against the bench, and Bria hunched her shoulders, her own tail curling tightly under her stool as if trying to disappear.

The laughter subsided, and in the quiet that followed, Bria took a small, steadying breath. She looked up, her amber eyes serious and direct. “So… how do you date someone from Earth, Sten?”

I gestured to my empty glass with a wry smile. “We can talk about that after someone buys the next round.”

Tian jumped up immediately, a determined look on her face. “I’ll get it!” she announced, grabbing our empty glasses and heading for the bar.

She returned a few minutes later with a fresh round of Amber Golds, setting them down on the table with a triumphant clink. “Okay,” she said, sliding back into her chair and fixing me with an expectant look. “Spill.”

I took a long swallow of the cool, slightly floral drink. “Alright, alright,” I said, setting my glass down. “Dating on Earth… well, it’s complicated. There’s no one way to do it. Sometimes it’s about starting a conversation with a stranger, trying to impress them, and then asking for their contact details. Sometimes it’s just about dancing with someone in a club and seeing where the night takes you.”

I shrugged, a small smile on my face. “Personally, I always had the best luck just hanging out with people in shared social situations. Go to a meetup, or a club, or out with friends, or whatever. Get to know them as a person first, see if you even want to hang out with them more. In time, maybe you’ll date, or become friends with benefits, or just stay friends. It’s about the connection, not the label.”

The three girls looked at each other, another one of those silent conversations that females of any species seem to master passing between them in a series of flicking ears, raised eyebrows, and subtle tail twitches. Finally, Tian, ever the spokesperson, turned back to me. A hopeful, slightly nervous energy in her eyes. “So, Sten… wanna hang out some more?”

I laughed, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to surprise them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The night went well after that. The conversation flowed easily, a comfortable back-and-forth that felt miles away from the interrogation I’d endured with the Countess. We talked about work, about the differences between growing up on Earth versus Dirt, about our favourite foods and holo-vids. It wasn’t just “interrogate the foreigner”; everyone contributed, sharing stories and jokes. There were no subtle redirections of the conversational flow, just people being themselves. The contrast to the previous night was stark.

By the end of the evening, the girls were a little tipsy, their usual reserve washed away by the Amber Gold. They insisted on walking me home. As I pulled on my hoodie, I overheard a hushed, intense conversation between them. “You two had him all night,” Tian whispered fiercely. “It’s my turn!”

As we walked through the quiet, colourful streets, Tian fell into step beside me. Zyl and Bria took up positions in front and behind. It felt… weird, being escorted, surrounded like this. But where the previous night, alone with the Countess, had left me feeling like prey, tonight with the three of them, I felt safe.

When we reached my apartment building, I turned to them. “Thanks for walking me home,” I said, a genuine warmth in my voice. I gave Tian a quick, friendly hug. She went stiff as a board, clearly shocked by the casual physical contact. I moved on to Zyl, who seemed more prepared for it, her solid frame feeling safe and reassuring.

By the time I got to Bria, she was a mess of nervous excitement and embarrassment. Her tail didn’t know where it wanted to be, twitching and curling and flicking. As I wrapped my arms around her, she seemed to melt into the hug, her small frame pressing against mine as if she never wanted to let go.

I thanked the three of them again and stepped into my building. From my window, I watched them huddled together on the street below, whispering animatedly, their tails a flurry of motion. I smiled to myself and headed for bed.

⸻

Chapter 5 - Signals

There’s a universal truth in software engineering: open-plan offices are productivity killers. They’re especially bad for a new team trying to find its footing. We’d taken our planning discussions to the meeting rooms. They were full of the kind of back-and-forth that’s essential for brainstorming but poison for anyone nearby trying to concentrate.

But now we’d gotten to the first day of coding. That meant using our workstations. I still wanted to encourage the team to collaborate, pair program, and get the team away from the prying eyes and unspoken social rules of the main floor. I ended up grabbing my desk, and moving it into one of the free meeting rooms. The girls looked at me aghast.

“Are we allowed to do that?” Zyl asked, her deep voice laced with a mixture of shock and concern.

I just grinned. “Are there any rules against it? I checked the schedule; this room is free all day.”

The girls exchanged another series of wide-eyed, uncertain looks before a slow, mischievous grin conquered Tian’s face. She grabbed the other side of my desk without a word. We shared a shrug, and with a bit of grunting, my workstation was installed in its new temporary home.

We spent the rest of the day mob programming. One workstation was hooked up to the main holo-display, and we all gathered around it, tackling the first piece of the puzzle together. It was fun, a chaotic but productive session of shared problem-solving. It was also an excellent way for me to see how they approached a problem, to gauge their understanding of the overall goal, and to start instilling the collaborative way I wanted our team to work.

The day had gone well. As we were packing up, taking my workstation back to the dev pit, I noticed a nervous energy coming from Zyl. She kept glancing at me, then away, her tail giving a series of short, hesitant twitches. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke, her usual calm voice a little shaky. “Sten… would you… would you like to go to the pub with us after work?”

I had to hide a smile. I’d only ever seen Zyl as the calm, steady presence on the team. Seeing her fidget, her usual confident posture lost to a series of small, uncertain movements, was an unexpected and frankly charming shift. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tian and Bria pretending to be engrossed in shutting down their workstations, but their body language screamed their intentions. It was almost like their ears had twisted to face me, straining to hear my answer.

I had to turn them down. “Ah, sorry, not tonight,” I said, a genuine regret in my voice. “I promised I’d meet some other friends tonight. It’s Shel’s Eve, right?”

“Oh,” Zyl said, her face falling. The disappointment from the other two was palpable, especially from Bria, whose shoulders slumped.

“But what about after Shel?” I suggested, trying to soften the blow. “After work?”

Zyl’s face lit up. “Yeah, that would be great!” she said, a genuine smile replacing her disappointment. Tian and Bria visibly perked up, their own disappointment vanishing in a flash of renewed hope.

I walked home feeling the satisfying buzz of a productive week, a feeling that was soured by the memory of the Countess’s predatory smile. The work was a comfortable challenge. The team was gelling, but their interest in me was something I was well aware of. I recalled Bria’s tail giving a happy thump-thump-thump against her chair when I’d praised her code. It was sweet, I wasn’t sure how it would end yet, but I wasn’t worried about it.

The Countess though, navigating that dynamic felt treacherous. It was clear what she wanted, and I didn’t want a bar of it. She wasn’t the sort to catch and release - she was a hunter, and I’d willingly walked into her territory.

That evening, my mind still wrestling with nobles and team dynamics, I decided to give my culinary experiments a rest. I’d spent most evenings this week attempting to cook with the local ingredients. My attempts had been a mixed bag. I’d managed to create a surprisingly delicious, hearty stew using the long, coiled tubers and a cut of meat that tasted something like a cross between beef and pork. On the other hand, my attempt at a stir-fry using the spiky, iridescent orbs had been a culinary disaster, turning into a bitter, gelatinous mush that I ended up binning.

Still, it was fun. I was going to have to go shopping again soon. Zyl had suggested I find local Rakiri shops. They wouldn’t have the range, but the quality and freshness would be better. My data-slate pinged with a reminder: ‘Drinks with Torka and Lyra’. A genuine smile touched my lips. Yes. A drink with potential friends was exactly what I needed.

⸻

I arrived at ‘The Broken Pick’ a little early, the familiar scent of sweet, spicy air and polished wood greeting me like an old friend. The bar was quieter than it had been last week, the after-work crowd had yet to descend.

I spotted a free table against the wall. It was empty, so I slid onto the padded bench. It was a good vantage point, offering a clear view of the entrance without being too conspicuous. I settled in, content to watch the galaxy go by for a few minutes and enjoy the relative quiet.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and a Shil figure stepped inside, silhouetted for a moment against the grey evening light. As she stepped down into the bar’s gloom, my eyes widened in recognition. It was Kaelis.

She paused just inside the doorway, her gaze sweeping the room. Her eyes, accustomed to the dim light faster than mine had been, locked onto me almost immediately. I saw a flicker of something in her expression - expectation? - before it was quickly schooled into a mask of cool indifference. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked towards my table with a deliberate, practiced stride that didn’t quite look natural.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice a low purr that sounded slightly forced. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Mistress Kaelis,” I greeted her with a polite nod. “Small world.”

“It can be,” she agreed, her golden eyes boring into mine. She gestured vaguely towards the bar. “Can I buy you a drink, Sten?”

I was a little surprised by the direct, almost normal offer. It was a far cry from her ‘lost little boy’ routine last week. Maybe she’d taken my words to heart. “Sure,” I said with a small smile. “Thanks.”

“What are you having?” she asked, her confidence seeming to grow.

“I don’t know, I’m still figuring out the local drinks,” I admitted. “Surprise me!”

A slow smile spread across her face, this one looking a little more genuine. “I can do that.” She turned and headed for the bar, her leather-clad hips swaying with that same deliberate motion.

She returned a few minutes later, two glasses in hand. She placed one in front of me before sliding into the seat opposite. My drink was a vibrant, almost electric blue, with a small, purple fruit that looked like an olive floating in it. Hers was a familiar-looking almost flamboyantly red liquid. “I hope you like it, it’s popular amongst males,” she announced, looking confident and taking a sip of her own drink.

“Thanks,” I said, picking up the glass. The aroma was intensely sweet, like concentrated berries. I took a small, cautious sip. It was like drinking liquid candy, a cloying sweetness that coated my tongue and made my teeth ache. I managed to swallow without grimacing, setting the glass down carefully. “…Thanks,” I managed.

“So,” I said, changing the subject before she could ask if I liked it. “What brings you here tonight, Mistress Kaelis?”

Kaelis took another long swallow of her Red-Grain, her eyes avoiding mine for a second too long. “Oh, you know,” she said, her shrug a little too stiff to be casual. “I… just felt like a drink. It’s a total coincidence, running into you.”

I just nodded slowly, a small smile playing on my lips. I had to give her points for trying, but her ‘casual’ act had all the subtlety of a ground-car collision. For a woman trying so hard to project an aura of confident dominance, she was a terrible liar. “Is this your local pub?” I asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” she declared, puffing her chest out slightly. “The… Rusty Shovel is my spot. I’m here all the time.” She took a pointed sip of her drink, as if to emphasize the point, her eyes daring me to question her.

I nodded again, forcing myself to take another sip of the electric-blue syrup. My face must have betrayed me. I blanched, the sweetness was just too much. I put the drink down with a soft clink and pushed it slightly away from me, a definitive gesture of rejection.

Kaelis’s carefully constructed confidence shattered. Her shoulders slumped and she looked genuinely worried. “You don’t like it?” she asked, her voice small. “It’s a Neon Starlight. It’s supposed to be very popular with ma… I researched!”

“Mistress Kaelis, thank you for the drink, I appreciate the gesture. But no, I’m sorry, I don’t like it. It’s just way too sweet for me,” I replied as gently as I could. She looked absolutely devastated, her face falling as if I’d slapped her. It felt like kicking a puppy. “Hey,” I said quickly, feeling sorry for her. “This is only the second alcoholic drink I’ve tried on Dirt. It’s all new to me. Can I try yours? Maybe I’ll like that one better.”

She looked up, her golden eyes wide with astonishment, a flicker of hope and surprise warring with her dejection. She looked at her glass, and then stuttered “Oh! Um… sure,” her composure completely gone. She hesitantly pushed her glass of red liquid across the table towards me.

I picked it up and took a sip. It was a world away from the Neon Starlight. It had a mellow flavour, with a sweet, berry-like tang that lingered pleasantly on the tongue. It was good. “Wow, that’s much better,” I said, a genuine smile on my face as I slid the glass back to her. “Not nearly as sweet. What is it?” I knew exactly what it was. Red-Grain had reached Earth years ago.

“It’s Red-Grain,” she said, a little of her poise returning. “But you should be careful with that. It’s really strong.”

I looked at her, surprised. It hadn’t tasted particularly strong to me, but I kept that thought to myself. “Good to know. I’ll be careful then.”

Just as Kaelis opened her mouth to reply, the door to the pub swung open again. A blast of cold air and cheerful noise cut through the quiet tension at our table as Torka and Lyra walked in. Lyra was shaking the evening chill from her jacket and laughing about something. She spotted us immediately, her face lighting up as she grabbed Torka’s arm and pointed in our direction.

I smiled and got to my feet, moving around the table to greet them properly. As I did, I glanced back at Kaelis. She quickly pulled her glass of Red-Grain back towards herself, her eyes fixed on it. I saw her stare for a moment at the faint, damp smudge my lips had left on the rim. Then, with a strange, almost secretive little smile, she lifted the glass and took a drink from that exact spot.

“Torka, Lyra, glad you could make it!” I said, my voice warm. “It’s good to see you both.” I paused for a beat. “So, I’m a hugger. It’s a human thing. You mind if I give you a hug?”

Lyra giggled and threw her arms around me in an enthusiastic embrace. “Of course!” Torka’s hug was more reserved, but no less warm, her large, furry arms enveloping me in a brief, comforting squeeze that smelled faintly of engine coolant and clean fur.

“It’s our round, remember?” Torka rumbled, her deep voice a pleasant vibration. “What are you having, Sten?”

“I’ll have a Red-Grain, please,” I said, nodding back towards the table.

Before Torka could head to the bar, I gestured towards Kaelis, who was now trying very hard to look like she wasn’t listening. “Hey, is it okay if Mistress Kaelis joins us? She was just keeping me company while I waited.”

Torka and Lyra exchanged a quick glance, and then both shrugged. “Sure, the more the merrier,” Lyra chirped. Torka gave a simple, agreeable nod. As Torka headed for the bar, Kaelis slid out of her chair and moved around to the bench, settling in beside me. I wasn’t sure if it was a deliberate move to be closer or just a practical one to avoid splitting up the couple when Torka returned.

The bar was quiet, so Torka returned quickly, expertly balancing three drinks. She set a Sun-cider in front of Lyra, a dark spirit for herself, and a fresh, ruby-red Red-Grain in front of me. As everyone settled into the booth, Lyra and Torka on one side, me and a suddenly very quiet Kaelis on the other, I decided to break the ice.

“So, Torka, Lyra, this is Mistress Kaelis,” I said, gesturing across the table. “Mistress Kaelis, this is Torka and Lyra. I figured you must have met before at the AltSo meetup?”

Lyra’s brow furrowed in thought. “Kaelis?” she repeated, looking Kaelis up and down. “No, I don’t think so. We’ve been going for years, Torka and I. We know most of the regulars. You must be new?”

She sank a little lower in her seat, her gaze fixed on her drink. “Oh. Um. Yes, I’m newish to town,” she mumbled, her previous feigned confidence missing.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Until Lyra broke it, “So, how are you settling into Vors, Sten?” Her curiosity bubbling over as she leaned forward.

“It’s been great so far,” I said. “Work is interesting, and I’m slowly figuring out what’s edible at the grocery store. I do have one question, though. Why do the showers smell like farts?”

The reaction was immediate and varied. Lyra burst into a peal of high-pitched laughter, Torka cracked a wide, toothy grin, and Kaelis looked shocked, her mouth falling open in surprise. I think my casual crudeness had caused a segfault somewhere in her ‘Mistress’ persona, leaving her momentarily rebooting.

“It’s the geothermal vents!” Lyra finally managed to gasp out between giggles. “When Vors first started as a mining outpost, they hit active geothermal vents almost immediately. So, from the very beginning, they’ve used them for everything! Generating electricity, heating the water… that’s why it’s full of sulfur and smells like that. Some of the sidewalks in the city center even have pipes running under them to melt the snow in the winter!”

I blinked, surprised. “Seriously? The sidewalks are heated?”

“You’ll get used to the smell,” Torka rumbled, her voice full of amusement. She took a sip of her dark spirit. “But I wouldn’t recommend drinking the hot water. It’s technically safe, but it tastes as weird as it smells.”

“That’s kinda weird, isn’t it? Geothermal activity usually means few minerals, but they built the town here around mining?” I asked.

Kaelis responded, “That’s because of the Taivanrikus,” before going silent again.

“And what’s a Taivanrikus?” I prompted gently, struggling with the pronunciation.

My question hung in the air for a moment. Kaelis seemed to pull herself together. “Um… it’s an old word,” she began, her voice hesitant but clear. “It means… ‘Riches from the Sky’. It’s what they called the rare-metals asteroid that hit the planet a long, long time ago. It was full of valuable ores.” She gained a little confidence as she spoke. “It all happened long before the Imperium, even before written Rakiri history. Thousands of years later, this town was established to mine it.”

“Wow, I didn’t know all that,” Torka grumbled, her eyes surprised. She turned to Kaelis, her head tilted. “You know a lot about the history of Dirt, did you grow up here?”

Kaelis flinched almost imperceptibly, her brief moment of confidence vanishing. “Ah. yeah,” she said, her gaze dropping back to her glass. “I grew up in New Dirt City. I only moved to Vors a little while ago… for… reasons.” She trailed off, her voice becoming quiet. She took a long drink of her Red-Grain, a clear signal that the conversation on that topic was over.

The awkwardness didn’t last. Soon Lyra was grilling me about my cooking experiments. “You tried to fry a spiky orb? Sten, no! You have to boil them first, then peel them!”

“Noted,” I said, laughing. “I’ll add it to my growing list of ‘how not to die of alien food poisoning’.”

I’d just finished explaining that I’d been threatened with being fired on my very first day of work. Torka piped up, “What are you worried about, you could always sell feet pics.” Lyra shrieked with laughter, and Kaelis blushed and chuckled. I’d told them about my experience on dating apps.

Torka was like that, she would interject with a dry, wickedly dark comment, part of the conversation, but happy to let it meander aimlessly as good chat often does. Kaelis, for her part, seemed content to listen, her initial nervousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. She followed the conversational threads like someone watching a sport they didn’t quite understand, occasionally chiming in with a question. She obviously wanted to be part of the group, but it was like she was missing the rulebook everyone else had been given at birth.

Later in the evening, Kaelis’s leg brushed against mine. She froze instantly, a current of tension running through her. I didn’t pull away. Underneath all the awkwardness and the persona, there was just a person, and right now, that person felt warm and surprisingly nice next to me.

I took a sip of my Red-Grain, ignoring Kaelis’s frozen features. “Speaking of practical things, where’s a good place to get clothes around here? I’m going to need more than what I brought in my suitcase eventually, and I need some more formal clothes for a work thing.”

“Oh, hrm,” Lyra hummed. “‘Aparl’ works, I guess. They have a large range and they are everywhere…” she finished, her tone non-committal.

“That wasn’t a ringing endorsement,” I said with a laugh.

Torka snorted. “They kinda suck. They’re the cheapest, but their clothes will fall apart after a few washes.” Lyra nodded along enthusiastically. “If you’re willing to pay more, you’re much better off going to a local tailor. You’re more likely to get clothes in your size too, and they’ll last forever. Most of the engineers at the spaceport get their work gear tailored. You save money after a couple of years. And it fits well, you get the pockets you want, that sort of thing.”

“Reminds me of the boots theory,” I mused.

“What’s that?” Lyra asked, her head tilted.

“Oh, it’s a human thing, from a great author. Basically, paying more up front for quality is usually cheaper in the long run. A rich man can buy a fifty-credit pair of boots that will last him ten years, while a poor man can only afford a ten-credit pair that he has to replace every year. In the end, the poor man spends more. It’s a way the system penalizes people for being poor.”

Torka nodded slowly, a look of understanding on her face.

“So, any recommendations for a good tailor?” I asked.

Kaelis spoke up, her voice surprisingly firm. “I know a good one. Especially for formal wear. I can take you tomorrow, if you want.”

“Sure, that would be great,” I said. “But I have to go looking at apartments in the morning. I need to find a new place to stay; the company-supplied place is only mine for another couple of weeks.”

Kaelis asked, her voice soft. “Why… why don’t you dress like other males?”

I looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She immediately shrank back, like she was suddenly regretting her question. I noticed she kept her leg pressed against mine.

Lyra, however, had no such regrets. “Yeah!” she jumped in, leaning forward eagerly. “Like, why don’t you wear makeup? Or jewellery? Or, you know, fancy stuff? You’re just wearing… pants and a shirt.”

I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. “Well, this is pretty normal for men on Earth,” I explained. “Most human guys don’t wear makeup, though that’s slowly changing. Some do, but I never got into it. This is basically what I wear to work, too. Should I have gotten dressed up to come out?”

Lyra laughed. “Gods, no! Not for us. We’re not that fancy.”

“Oh, good,” I said with a genuine sigh of relief. “It’s hard enough figuring out the food, let alone the social norms for a night at the pub on a new planet.”

“Why don’t you have fur on your head?” Torka rumbled, her green eyes fixed on me with a calm curiosity. “But you have it on your face. I thought humans usually had head-fur.”

I laughed, rubbing a hand over my smooth scalp. “Genetics. I used to, but it started falling out a few years back. I decided to just shave it all off instead of having a big bald patch.”

“A bald patch?” Lyra asked, her head tilted in confusion.

“Male pattern baldness,” I explained. “It’s a thing that happens to a lot of human guys. The hair on your head just… stops growing in certain spots.”

All three of them stared at me for a second, and then Lyra and Torka burst out laughing. “That’s not a thing for Shil males,” Lyra giggled. “They’d probably pay a fortune to have that problem!”

I joined in their laughter. “I used to joke that all my hair fell off my head and landed on my face,” I said, stroking my beard. “It’s funny, when I was in high school, all I wanted was to grow a beard. You know, to look all manly for the girls.”

The three of them looked at me, puzzled.

I shook my head, smiling at the memory. “But I couldn’t. All I could manage was this tiny, pathetic moustache right above my top lip. It looked ridiculous. The girls were… not impressed. Now I can’t grow hair on my head, and I can’t stop it from growing on my face.”

Lyra looked at me, her head tilted in genuine confusion. “Wait, what do you mean you were ‘chasing girls’?”

Before I could answer, Kaelis interjected, her voice quiet but firm. “Earth is one-to-one.”

“Yep, exactly,” I confirmed, nodding at Kaelis with a small, appreciative smile. “The gender ratio is about even. And culturally, it’s usually the guys who are expected to pursue the girls, not the other way around.”

“So are you all just… fucking all the time?” Lyra blurted out, her voice a mix of genuine curiosity and mischief.

I burst out laughing. Beside me, Kaelis blushed a deep shade of purple and suddenly found her glass intensely interesting.

“Well, some do,” I chuckled. “But generally, not really. It’s complicated. Earth was very fragmented before the invasion, with thousands of different societies. In some places, people often wouldn’t have sex until they were married. In others, it was more promiscuous, and sometimes the females were the aggressors. Humanity is a whole spectrum of sexual orientations. You’ve got heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, asexual… and many, many more. Some people are monogamous, some are polygamists… some humans are attracted to big, furry beasts like you, Torka.” I gave the Rakiri a wink.

She just grinned, showing a flash of canine. Lyra blushed.

Kaelis, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up, her voice a little hesitant. “So… are you one of the ones who waits? Until you’re married?”

I let out a short, sharp bark of laughter. “Fuck no,” I said, a wide grin spreading across my face. “Goddess, no. That ship sailed a very, very long time ago. But,” I continued, a mischievous glint in my eye, “it does remind me of another human group that has some… creative interpretations of that rule.”

Lyra leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her full attention captured. “Ooh, do tell.”

“Alright,” I began, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “So, there’s this very religious group, and for them, sex before marriage is absolutely forbidden. A huge sin. But they’re still young and horny, so they found a loophole.”

I paused, letting the strange word hang in the air. “The couple gets into bed, the boy puts his penis inside the girl… and then they just lie there. Perfectly still. As long as there’s no thrusting, no pelvic motion, their religion says it doesn’t technically count as sex.”

The silence that followed was profound. Torka stared at me, her usual calm composure replaced by a look of utter bafflement. Lyra’s mouth was hanging slightly open.

“You’re making that up,” Lyra finally said, her voice a disbelieving whisper.

“I wish I was,” I said, shaking my head. “But it gets even dumber. Sometimes, to get around the ‘no movement’ rule, they’d invite a third person into the room.”

“To watch?” Kaelis asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Nope. To move the bed,” I said, unable to keep the smirk off my face. “The friend jumps up and down, which makes the bed bounce. Which makes the couple… you know… bounce. But since they aren’t the ones causing the movement, it still doesn’t count as sex.”

That broke them. Lyra threw her head back and shrieked with laughter, a high-pitched, infectious sound that made a few patrons at the bar turn their heads. Torka just shook her head slowly, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating in her chest. Kaelis blushed, but her laughter was absent. She was lost in thought.

“That’s very much a special case. In general though,” I continued. “Boys chased girls, asked them on dates, and often paid for everything. They did a lot of things you’d probably consider feminine. There was a societal pressure for girls to appear chaste, and for boys to, well, to fuck as much as possible, at least where I grew up anyway.”

The three of them looked at me, a mixture of shock and deep thought on their faces.

I shuffled out of the bench seat and stood up. “But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to drain my trouser gorofruit.”

“What!?” Kaelis yelped, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and utter confusion. Gorofruits are vaguely phallic-shaped.

I grinned. “I need to do a wee. Go to the toilet.”

Lyra and Torka roared with laughter. Kaelis just blushed a shade of purple so deep it was almost black and hid her face behind her hands. As I was walking away I heard Torka mutter to the table, “Humans are insane!”

When I got back from the bathroom, the booth was noticeably emptier. Kaelis and Lyra were gone. I slid back into my seat opposite Torka, who was calmly sipping the last of her drink.

“Hope it’s alright that Kaelis tagged along,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I just get the feeling she could use some friends.”

Torka looked at me, her green eyes thoughtful. “She’s fine,” the big Rakiri rumbled. “As long as she respects what Lyra and I have, she’s welcome.”

I nodded. “Heard.”

Just then, Lyra and Kaelis returned from the bar, Lyra chattering away happily. It was her round, and she carefully placed a fresh Red-Grain in front of me.

“So,” Lyra said with a mischievous grin as she slid back into the booth. “How’s the trouser gorofruit?”

I laughed, picking up my new drink. “Drained… for now.”

Kaelis was caught halfway between sitting and standing, her eyes locked on me. I gave her a deliberate wink. She startled, dropping into her seat with a thump that made her own glass of Red-Grain slosh dangerously close to the rim. As she settled, I shuffled over a little, pressing my leg against hers again. Reaching under the table, I slowly ran a single finger up the smooth leather of her thigh. Kaelis let out a small, sharp gasp, her face flushing a bright, neon blue. Across the table, Torka let out a low snigger, while Lyra, completely oblivious, was absorbed in watching a group of boisterous patrons at the bar.

The conversation flowed smoothly after that. The topics ranged wildly, from the intricacies of shuttle engine maintenance - a subject Torka could surprisingly wax lyrical about after a few drinks - to Lyra’s hilarious and slightly terrifying stories of growing up on Shil. I did my best to keep up, sharing my own experiences of life on Earth, trying to paint a picture of a world that was so fundamentally different from theirs.

As the night started to wind down and the pub began to empty, I turned to Kaelis. “So, we’ve talked about my job, and Torka’s, and Lyra’s gossip,” I said with a grin at Lyra, who stuck her tongue out at me. “What do you do, Mistress Kaelis?”

She seemed a little taken aback by the direct question. “Oh, um… I’m a Physical Performance Analyst,” she said, her gaze flickering down to her glass.

“That sounds interesting,” I said. “What does that involve?”

“I, uh… work with athletes. And stuff,” she replied evasively. “Optimizing training regimens. It’s… involved.” She took a quick drink, another clear signal that she wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Right,” I said, letting it drop. “Well, hey,” I said to the table at large, pulling out my data-slate. “I’ve had a really great time tonight. I’d like to do this again. We should all swap contact details.” I looked around at them, my expression turning a little more serious. “Honestly, it would be good for me to have a few people to call who aren’t from work. You know, for a safety check-in, or just to have someone for the coroner to call. It’s a bit weird being on a new planet with no one.”

Torka let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Good idea,” her voice laced with amusement. “At least you’ll be easy to identify. Not many bald, bearded humans in Vors, you know.”

I laughed, shaking my head at her grim humor. Lyra rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her partner before her expression softened. She glanced at Torka, who gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Of course,” Lyra chirped, her voice full of genuine warmth as she pulled out her own slate. Kaelis, blushing slightly, nodded eagerly, her eyes bright. We all held up our slates, a quick series of chimes confirming the data transfer.

“Great,” I said, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest. “How about we do this again next Shel? Same time?”

A chorus of agreement went around the table. With that settled, we started gathering our things, pulling on jackets and hoodies against the cold night air. We stepped out of the warm, noisy pub and onto the quiet, colourful street. After a round of goodbyes and promises to message, Torka and Lyra headed off down the street, hand in hand.

I stood there for a moment, and I wasn’t surprised to find Kaelis waiting awkwardly beside me. I turned to her, a pointed, teasing smile on my face. “So, are you going to ask this time, or are you just going to try the stalking thing again?”

Her blush was instantaneous and spectacular, a blue that was visible even in the dim glow of the streetlights. “I… um…” she stammered, looking at her feet. She took a deep breath and met my gaze, her own full of a desperate sort of sincerity. “Could I… could I escort you home, Sten? Just to make sure you’re safe.”

I chuckled, the sound soft in the quiet night. “Sure, Mistress Kaelis. I’d like that.”

She looked at me, her golden eyes pleading. “Maybe… maybe you could just call me Kaelis?”

I smiled at her, taking a moment. “I’d like that too, Kaelis,” I replied, savoring her name.

The walk back to my apartment was quiet, a comfortable silence settling between us. A light, dry snow had begun to fall, the last gasps of winter dusting the colourful streets of Vors in a thin blanket of white. The flakes melted almost as soon as they touched the ground, but it was enough to muffle the sounds of the city, leaving only the soft, rhythmic crunch of our boots on the pavement.

We walked side-by-side, the distance between us a little less than what might be considered strictly friendly. It was Kaelis who finally broke the silence, her voice soft in the still night air.

“You and Lyra seem to get along really well,” she observed, her gaze fixed on the path ahead.

I smiled. “Yeah, she’s a blast. Easy to talk to.”

“Do you… like her?” Kaelis asked, the question hesitant, laced with a vulnerability that was a world away from the ‘Mistress’ persona she’d tried so hard to project.

“I do,” I confirmed easily. “She’s great.” I glanced at her, catching the flicker of… something… in her golden eyes. I knew what she was really asking. “But she and Torka aren’t interested in me like that,” I added gently. “Sexually, I mean.”

I met her gaze, my expression open and honest. “If you want to know more about them, you should talk to them. That’s their story to tell, not mine.”

Kaelis didn’t respond immediately. She just hugged herself tighter, her frame shivering. When she’d left for the pub, the evening had still been mild, and her thin, stylish jacket had been more than enough. But as the night deepened, the temperature had plummeted, and she was paying the price for her fashionable choice now.

When she finally spoke, her teeth were chattering slightly, turning the words into a clipped, breathy sound. “Oh… o-ok.”

We walked the last block in silence, the only sound our footsteps in the thin layer of slush. When we reached the entrance to my apartment building, I stopped and turned to her.

“You’re freezing,” I stated, a matter-of-fact observation. “Why don’t you come up for a bit? You can get warm, I’ll make you a cup of tea.” I gestured towards the door. “I’ve probably got a spare hoodie or something you can borrow for the walk home. It’s no trouble.”

Kaelis just nodded, her arms still wrapped around herself, a violent shiver running through her tall frame. She looked genuinely cold, her leather pants looked thin, offering little protection against the biting night air.

I unlocked the door and led her inside. The warmth of the apartment was a welcome relief, a stark contrast to outside. I flicked on the lights as Kaelis stepped in, looking around the small, impersonal space with a shy curiosity.

“Kitchen’s this way,” I said, heading for the small alcove. I filled the kettle and switched it on, the low hum filling the quiet apartment. I pulled two mugs from the cupboard and dropped a tea bag into each one.

The kettle clicked off, and I poured the steaming water into the mugs. “Sugar?” I asked, holding up the small container.

Kaelis, who had been hovering uncertainly in the doorway, just nodded, her eyes wide. I spooned a generous amount into her mug before handing it to her, the small tag of the tea bag hanging over the side.

She took it with both hands, her long, slender fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic as if it were a lifeline. She held it close, letting the steam wash over her face, a small, grateful sigh escaping her lips.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently. “Or do you need a blanket or something?”

She shook her head, her dark hair swaying. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little stronger now that she was out of the cold. “Just… just need a minute or two.”

I leaned against the counter, sipping my own tea. We stood in a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the crunch of tires on fresh snow as a ground-car drove by outside.

“So,” I said, breaking the quiet. “What about you, Kaelis? Are you single?”

She looked up at me over the rim of her mug, her golden eyes vulnerable. She didn’t say anything, but just gave a slow, deliberate nod before taking a long, slow sip of her tea.

I watched her, my gaze open and appreciative. She really was stunning. Not in the overtly voluptuous way that was so common among her species, but in a lean, athletic way that I found very appealing. The harsh overhead light of the kitchen softened the lines of her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her tusks and the deep gold of her eyes. My gaze drifted down, over the corded muscles in her neck, the modest swell of her small chest, to the way the tight leather pants hugged her long legs and the taut curve of her backside. She was all lean lines and coiled strength. I took another sip of my tea, my eyes still on her. “Do you like me, Kaelis?” I asked, my voice quiet but direct. “Sexually, I mean.”

Her reaction was instantaneous. A bright blue blush flooded her cheeks, so intense it was visible even in the artificial light. “What? No!” she exclaimed, her voice a squeak of panicked denial.

I just smiled. “Oh. That’s a pity.”

She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape, the blush deepening. “W-what… what if I did?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I set my mug down on the counter. “I was going to offer to warm you up properly.”

“How… how would you warm me up?” she asked, her voice a breath of sound.

My gaze drifted down her body, from her wide, curious eyes, down the long column of her throat, to the swell of her chest under her dark top. “I would walk over to you,” I said, my voice dropping a little lower, “pull your head down and kiss you.”

I watched as her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. “…and… and then what?” she whispered.

“And then I would move my hands down over your shoulders, down your back, until I could finally grip that phenomenal ass I couldn’t stop watching every time you got up from the table tonight,” I said confidently but quietly.

A shiver ran through her, a tremor that had nothing to do with the cold outside and everything to do with the images I had just painted in her mind. Her breath hitched, and her gaze, though still wide, held a new, undeniable heat.

“If you liked that,” I continued, my voice a low rumble. “I was going to push you onto the couch, peel you out of your leather leggings, spread your knees, and then I’d spend some time between your legs. Where my tongue and your ‘clam’ could get to know each other, until you forgot all about the cold.”

Kaelis gasped, a soft, involuntary sound. Her body trembled, and her eyes, still locked on mine, were a volatile mix of shock, raw desire, and a flicker of genuine fear. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

I let the silence hang in the air for a long, charged moment before I picked up my mug again. “But,” I said, my tone shifting back to something more casual. “You just told me you’re not interested in me… sexually.”

She just stared at me, her face a war of conflicting emotions. Arousal, panic, desire, and a deep, profound fear. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “I… I lie… Plea… I can’t…” she stammered, her voice a desperate whisper.

She paused, panting, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. The war between desire and fear played out across her face. “I have to go,” she finally blurted out, placing her half-drunk mug on the counter with a sharp clatter.

“Okay,” I said, my voice gentle. I pulled off my thick, black hoodie, and held it out to her. “You’re going to be cold, take this. Or I could call you an auto ground-car?”

She looked at me, startled, uncomprehending. Her gaze flickered from my face to the hoodie and back again. Without a word, she took it from me, her fingers pausing, brushing against mine. She pulled it on quickly, the soft fabric fitting her slender frame well. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Thanks,” she mumbled to the floor, before turning and practically fleeing the apartment, the door clicking shut behind her.

I walked over to the main window and peered through the blinds, watching as she emerged from the building. Down on the street, under the dim glow of the streetlamp, she stopped. She hugged herself tightly, then pulled the hood of my hoodie up over her dark hair. I watched as she buried her face in the fabric, taking a long, conspicuous sniff.

I let the blind fall back into place and sighed, a quiet, confused sound. What the hell was that all about? I thought she was into me. All the signs were there. But then she denies it, panics, and runs away. Women, human or alien, are all insane. I had no idea what just happened.

⸻

Chapter 6 - Groping

Compromise. That’s the soul-crushing truth of house hunting on any planet, and with only a couple of weeks left in my corporate apartment, that truth was staring right back at me from my data-slate. I spent an hour after breakfast glued to the screen, scrolling through the Vor’s Scratch real-estate pages to get a feel for the market.

I braced myself for the usual sticker shock, but as I scrolled, a surprising sense of relief washed over me. Vor’s Scratch had boomed during its mining heyday, leaving behind a surplus of solid, two and three-story apartment blocks - cheap housing for miners, now renovated for the new wave of tech workers. It was a glut, a renter’s dream that kept prices refreshingly reasonable.

My needs were simple: I wanted a two-bedroom apartment. One for me, and a spare room that could double as a home office and a guest room. Back on Earth, I’d enjoyed having friends over, cooking for them, hosting game nights. I wanted to build that kind of life here, too, and that meant having a decent kitchen and a lounge big enough to entertain in. What I wanted was a proper home, not just another box to crash in after work.

As I scrolled, my mind drifted back to the previous night. Kaelis. Her panicked flight from my apartment was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. One minute, she was practically vibrating with a desire so palpable I could taste it, the next she was stammering denials and running for the door. It made no sense. We’d agreed to go to a tailor this afternoon, but after that bizarre ending, I had no idea if that was still on the table. I sighed, tapping open my messaging app. I needed to know what was going on.

Sten> Hey Kaelis. Hope you got home okay last night. Are you feeling alright? No pressure at all, but are we still on for the tailor later?

A notification bubble popped up on my screen almost immediately. Kaelis is typing... it read. Then it vanished. It reappeared a few seconds later, only to disappear again. This digital dance of indecision went on for what felt like an eternity before a message finally chimed through.

Kaelis> I'm great! Sorry about last night, I suddenly remembered I'd left the oven on and had a bit of a panic! But I'm totally fine now! And yes, absolutely! I'd love to go to the tailor. What time works for you?

I read her message, a small, confused smile on my face. Oven huh? Ok, if she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, I was happy to play along.

Sten> Well, I'm going to check out a few open houses this morning to get a feel for the rental market. How about we meet up after that? Say, around fourteen hundred? Kaelis> Open houses... Who are you going with? Sten> Just me. Why?

The Kaelis is typing... notification bubble appeared again, flickered, and vanished. It did this three more times, a silent, digital stutter that spoke volumes more than her actual words. Finally, a message came through.

Kaelis> I'm free this morning. Can I come with you?

I stared at the message. That was… weird. And a little clingy. But then, she was weird and clingy. I shrugged to myself. What was the harm?

Sten> The first open house is in 30 mins, so I've gotta leave in 20. You can meet me at the 2nd in an hour if thats better?

The reply was instantaneous.

Kaelis> BRT

I quickly downed the last of my tea, rinsed the mug, and jumped in the shower. A quick brush of my teeth, a fresh T-shirt and jeans, and I was ready with a few minutes to spare. Just as I was pulling on my hoodie, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

I opened it to find Kaelis standing there, looking like she’d just sprinted here. Her dark hair was damp, plastered to her forehead, and she was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow gasps.

“Hey,” I said, a little taken aback. “You’re… fast. You could have just met me at the second open house, you know. No need to rush.”

She just shook her head, still catching her breath. “Nah, it’s fine,” she said, then mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

I grabbed two bottles of a weirdly pink-coloured juice from the fridge and tossed one to her. “Here,” I said. “Let’s go, or we’ll be late.”

Kaelis caught it deftly, her eyes still a little wide. She was quiet as we walked, focusing on catching her breath and taking small sips of the sweet, tangy drink.

When we arrived at the first address, a Rakiri woman was waiting by the open door. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, her fur impeccably groomed. She flashed us a smile so oily it could have lubricated a shuttle engine, a practiced, slimy thing that was all teeth and no warmth. It was the universal expression of a real estate agent smelling a commission. “Welcome,” she purred, her voice as smooth as her sales pitch as she gestured for us to enter. “Please, come in and have a look around.”

The agent, whose name was apparently Vella, launched into her well-rehearsed spiel as she led us through the apartment. “As you can see, the main living space is wonderfully open-plan, perfect for entertaining,” she crooned, gesturing to a moderately sized room. “And the kitchen has all the latest appliances, of course. Top of the line.”

She kept her focus almost entirely on me, her eyes lingering a little too long, her professional smile stretching a little too wide. As I stepped past her to look at the kitchen, her nose twitched, and she took a deep, deliberate sniff of the air where I’d just been standing. Kaelis, who had been trailing silently behind us, immediately moved to my side, her shoulder brushing against mine, a subtle but unmistakable claim of proximity.

“This is the master bedroom,” Vella announced, throwing open a door. “Plenty of space for a king-sized bed, and the wardrobe is quite generous.” As I walked in to inspect the closet space, Vella moved to follow, her gaze fixed on the back of my neck. But Kaelis was faster, stepping neatly between us to ask a question about the room’s heating unit, her body forming a physical barrier. Vella’s smile tightened for a fraction of a second before she answered, her professional purr never wavering.

This little dance continued. In the second bedroom, Vella leaned in close to point out the view, her perfume cloying. “Imagine waking up to that,” she purred.

Before I could answer, Kaelis was suddenly next to us, examining the window latch. “Is this double-glazed?” she asked, her back pointedly to the agent. Her protectiveness was amusing and, if I was honest, a little touching.

After we’d seen the whole place, we ended up back in the main living area. “It’s a nice apartment,” I said, trying to sound noncommittal. “What are the lease terms?”

Vella’s oily smile returned in full force. “For you, Sten,” she purred, her voice dropping an octave as she let my name roll off her tongue, “we can offer a very flexible three-month lease.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Three months? That’s short. Why only three?”

“It’s standard for male tenants,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “You boys tend to move around a lot. Find a girlfriend, move in with her, break the lease. It’s just easier for everyone this way.” Huh, that only sounded easier for the landlord.

“And for female tenants?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my gut.

“Oh, the standard twelve months,” she replied breezily.

I stared at her, my mind trying to process the casual sexism of it all. Before I could formulate a response, Vella leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “Of course, a standard lease isn’t the only option available…”

“Finding a place can be so stressful for a man new to the city. It just so happens I have a spare room at my place. It’s quite comfortable. I could be persuaded to rent it to a… special tenant. At a very significant discount, of course. Perhaps you and I could go for a drink later? Discuss the details. I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.” Her gaze was direct, leaving no doubt as to what kind of ‘arrangement’ she was proposing.

I was genuinely shocked. Not by the proposition itself - I’d had my fair share of those since the invasion - but by the sheer, unadulterated audacity of it. To make an offer like that, so openly, right in front of Kaelis… it was bold.

I glanced at Kaelis. Her face was a mask of cold fury, her golden eyes narrowed to slits. Her hands had clenched into tight fists at her sides, and she shifted her weight slightly, a coiled spring ready to unload.

I turned back to Vella, keeping my own expression neutral. “I appreciate the offer,” I said, my voice calm and even. “But I think I’ll just stick to the standard process for now. Could you please send the lease details to my data-slate? I’ll review them.”

Vella’s smile faltered for a second, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, before the slimy mask snapped back into place. “Of course, Sten,” she purred, her voice practically dripping honey. “I’ll send over everything you need… I do look forward to seeing you again… soon.”

“Great,” I said, turning and reaching for Kaelis’s hand. Her fingers, tense and rigid a moment before, relaxed instantly as they laced with mine. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and led her out of the apartment, Kaelis pointedly positioning herself between me and Vella’s lingering, predatory gaze as we left.

As we walked to the next open house, a comfortable silence settled between us. I didn’t let go of Kaelis’s hand, the warmth of her fingers a pleasant contrast to the cool morning air. My mind, however, was still chewing on the casual, baked-in sexism of the rental market.

“So,” I said finally, breaking the quiet. “That three-month lease thing… is that normal for all of Dirt, or is it just a Vors thing?”

Kaelis squeezed my hand gently. “Yeah, it’s pretty common here,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “The assumption is that men can always go back to their parents’ house if they need to. I guess… you can’t really do that, can you?”

“No, not really,” I said with a dry chuckle. “But why so short? Surely there are some guys who live on their own?”

“Sure, some do. But it’s not that common. It’s a Rakiri thing, I guess… the expectation is that a man will move in with his girlfriends. They provide for him, and he… well, he gets pampered or takes care of the house. It’s just how it’s always been.” She paused, glancing at me. “The men who do live by themselves are usually from rich families, so they can just buy an apartment outright. They’re not renting.”

She gestured vaguely at the colourful apartment buildings around us. “Most of the apartments like the ones we’re looking at are rented by single women, or a couple of female friends sharing.”

“Do you live in a place like this?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

She nodded, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Yeah. A one-bedroom, not far from here. It’s… quiet.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “I figured you’d live with some friends. It’s usually cheaper that way.”

She shook her head, her gaze dropping to the pavement. “I’m still pretty new to Vors. I don’t really have many friends here yet.”

A teasing smile touched my lips. “What? And here I was thinking The Rusty Shovel - I mean, The Broken Pick - was your local.”

A faint blush crept up her neck, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

I changed the subject, steering it back to the more immediate weirdness of the day. “So, Vella the real estate agent… is that level of… forwardness… normal too?”

Kaelis sighed, a small, weary sound. “For a male, and a human one? Yeah. Especially one who’s new in town. You’re a novelty. A status symbol, even. To a lot of women, being direct like that isn’t rude, it’s just… efficient. A way to get what they want without wasting time.” She kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk.

She glanced up at me, a hesitant, almost vulnerable look in her golden eyes. “Did you… like her?”

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. “Vella? Gods, no. She was so oily I feel like I need another shower just from being in the same room with her.”

A genuine, radiant smile broke across Kaelis’s face, a stark contrast to the tense fury of a few minutes ago. She squeezed my hand, a silent, happy affirmation.

The second apartment was on the top floor of a three-story walk-up on the other side of the neighbourhood. Unlike the first viewing, this one was packed. The small apartment was a sea of fur and curious, twitching ears. It was almost entirely Rakiri women, mostly in pairs or small groups of friends, and I was the only man in the room.

The moment we stepped inside, the low hum of conversation faltered. Dozens of pairs of eyes, green, amber, and brown, swivelled in our direction. The whispering started almost immediately, small groups of friends leaning into each other, their voices dropping to low, guttural murmurs in the Rakiri tongue as they cast glances our way.

The real estate agent for this apartment, another Rakiri woman, began her tour, speaking in the gruff, flowing cadence of the Rakiri language. Kaelis leaned in close, her voice a low murmur in my ear. “She’s talking about the refinished flooring,” she translated quietly. “And the soundproofing between the units.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the apartment itself, but it was difficult. I wasn’t sure what the other prospective tenants were looking at more, the apartment’s features, or me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of three Rakiri women nudging one of their friends, a smaller Rakiri with bright, ginger-coloured fur, pushing her in our direction with a series of encouraging shoves and giggles.

Before the ginger Rakiri could be propelled into us, another tall, powerfully built Rakiri with dark, almost black fur detached herself from the crowd and sauntered over. She stopped directly in front of me, her amber eyes raking over my frame with an appreciative, predatory gleam.

“You’re a long way from home, human,” she said, her voice a deep, confident rumble that cut through the surrounding chatter. “That skinny little Shil’vati can’t possibly keep you warm at night. You need a real woman to show you what Dirt is all about.”

I met her gaze, an amused smile playing on my lips. “No thanks,” I said, my voice calm but firm, “I think I’ll stick with the real one I’ve got.” I gave Kaelis’s hand a deliberate squeeze, feeling her fingers tighten around mine. The Rakiri woman’s eyes flickered to Kaelis, a dismissive sneer on her face, before she shrugged and melted back into the crowd.

Later in the tour, as I was inspecting the plumbing under the kitchen sink, a clawed hand gave my ass a firm, deliberate grope. I jumped, a jolt of anger and violation shooting through me. I spun around, but the sea of furry faces behind me was a mask of polite, innocent curiosity. No one looked guilty, but the smirks I saw told a different story. So this is what it feels like.

“Alright, I think we’ve seen enough,” I said to Kaelis, my voice low. We made our way to the door, getting the agent’s contact details before making our escape.

“Lunch?” I asked as we hit the street. “My treat.”

“My treat,” Kaelis insisted, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

We found a place that looked like a butcher’s shop, and it was, with a long refrigerated counter displaying various cuts of meat. But in the corner, there was a small counter with a heated display full of golden-brown pies, a drinks fridge, and a couple of small tables. We both grabbed a pie, I went for a meat and vegetable one, while Kaelis chose a chunky meat pie, and sat down. “So, this is the height of summer, huh?” I asked, gesturing with my pie towards the grey, overcast sky.

Kaelis laughed. “Pretty much. It’ll start getting cold again soon. You’re going to need a proper winter jacket. An actively warmed one, probably.”

“Actively warmed?”

“Yeah,” she said, her expression turning serious. “It gets down to forty below here in the winter. Humans might not feel the cold as much as Shil, but that’s cold enough to kill you, fur or no fur.”

After lunch, Kaelis led me through a series of winding side streets to the tailor’s shop. It was tucked away in one of the half-subterranean basements that were so common in Vors, its entrance marked only by a small, elegant sign in flowing Shil script - ‘The Hunter’s Stitch’.

A small bell chimed as we stepped inside. The interior was warm and smelled of oiled leather, warm fabric, and something faintly spicy, like cinnamon. Standing behind a large wooden counter was a Rakiri man.

He was a striking figure, a quiet defiance to the ‘lethargic mass’ stereotype I’d read about. His dark fur was meticulously combed, and he wore a crisp vest that spoke of pride in his appearance. A measuring tape was draped around his neck like a scarf, and a heavy leather apron protected his clothes. Tucked into various loops and pockets on the apron were the tools of his trade: a pair of wickedly sharp-looking shears, pieces of chalk, and other implements I couldn’t identify. He moved with a calm, deliberate grace, an artisan whose confidence filled the small shop. He looked up as we entered, his smile polite and genuine.

“Ah, Ms. Kaelis,” he said, his voice a smooth, pleasant baritone. “How can I assist you this afternoon?”

“Mr. Fen,” Kaelis replied, a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “My friend here needs some formal wear. Can you help him?”

Mr. Fen’s gaze shifted to me, his professional smile widening slightly. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.” He extended a hand over the counter. “Fen. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Sten,” I replied, fist-bumping him. His knuckles firmly bumped against mine. “Likewise.”

“Well then, Sten,” Mr. Fen said, gesturing towards a curtained-off area at the back of the shop. “If you’ll follow me, we can get your measurements.”

I followed him into the back room, which was a small, well-lit space with a three-way mirror and a small pedestal in the center. “If you would, please,” Mr. Fen said, gesturing to the pedestal. “Down to your undergarments, please.”

I didn’t hesitate, quickly shedding my hoodie, T-shirt, and jeans, leaving me in nothing but my socks and underwear. Mr. Fen’s eyebrows shot up, a flicker of surprise in his calm, professional demeanor. “You’re… very comfortable,” he observed, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

I just shrugged, stepping onto the pedestal. “Some of the places I’ve lived, mixed gender showers were the norm. Nudity is a big deal in some parts of Earth, but in others, not at all.”

Mr. Fen chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “A practical man. I can appreciate that.” He picked up his measuring tape and a data-slate, his movements efficient and precise. He worked quickly, calling out numbers as he measured my inseam, waist, chest, and arms, tapping the figures into his slate.

“So, Sten,” he began, his tone conversational as he worked. “What sort of formal wear are you looking for? I have some excellent patterns for traditional Shil’vati formal wear. Very distinguished.” He gestured to a nearby mannequin displaying a stunning example. It was a multi-layered garment of deep purple and black fabrics, cut and layered to resemble articulated plates of armour. It was both elegant and intimidating.

“Ah, sorry to be difficult, Mr. Fen,” I said, holding up a hand. “But that’s not what I’m looking for at all. I need something more… Earth traditional.”

Mr. Fen paused, his measuring tape hovering over my shoulder. A flicker of genuine curiosity lit up his eyes. “Earth fashion? I confess, that is not something I have much experience with. But I am always willing to try something new. Do you have examples of what you’re looking for?”

“I do,” I said, pulling out my own data-slate. I quickly brought up a series of images I’d saved - classic, two-piece suits. “I need one in black, and one in a dark navy blue,” I explained, showing him the pictures. “And a couple of shirts to go with them, and shoes, if you can arrange that.”

Mr. Fen studied the images, his brow furrowed in concentration. He zoomed in on the lapels, the cut of the trousers, the way the fabric draped. “Fascinating,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “The lines are… clean. Structured.” He looked up at me, his professional curiosity fully engaged. “I can certainly do this. I will need to do some research, of course, and I may need you to come back for a second fitting. And I must warn you, this will be… expensive.”

I nodded, my expression serious. “That’s fine. It’s a work expense, so don’t worry about the cost. I’m more interested in quality than price. Please, take your time. Do the research you need, order whatever fabrics you think will best replicate the look. Just send the bill to Apex Connect when you’re done.”

A slow, appreciative smile spread across Mr. Fen’s face. “Apex Connect. Of course.” He tapped a few more notes into his slate, then extended a hand. “If you would give me your contact details, I will be in touch when I have some preliminary designs for you to look at.”

We exchanged details, and with a final, professional nod, he gestured for me to get dressed. I quickly pulled my clothes back on and walked out into the main shop, where Kaelis was pretending to be engrossed in a bolt of dark, heavy-looking fabric.

Before I could even reach for the door, Kaelis was there, holding it open for me. “Shall we?” she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. I nodded, stepping out into the cool, grey afternoon.

We started walking, our footsteps echoing softly in the quiet side street. We didn’t have a destination in mind, just a shared, unspoken need to keep moving, to let the day’s strange events settle.

“Thanks for introducing me to Mr. Fen,” I said, breaking the silence. “He seems like a real artist.”

Kaelis blushed, a faint blue dusting her cheeks. “Oh, it was nothing,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s the best in Vors. I knew he’d be able to help.”

We walked a little further, the silence returning, but it was a comfortable one now. “Can I ask you something?” I said finally, turning to her. “Why did you want to come to the open houses with me this morning?”

Kaelis was quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed on the pavement ahead. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost hesitant. “How did you feel?” she asked, not looking at me. “When that woman… touched you.”

“Pissed off,” I said immediately, the anger a hot, tight knot in my gut.

“I guessed,” she said quietly. “I tried to make it look like we were together, you know? To give you some cover. But… how much worse do you think it would have been if I wasn’t there? How many more hands would have been on you?”

I scoffed, a short, sharp sound of disbelief. “I can protect myself, Kaelis.”

“Maybe you can,” she replied, voice tinged with frustration and fear. “Maybe you were a marine back on Earth?”

I let the silence linger. I didn’t want to answer her. I wasn’t a marine, I didn’t know martial arts. I’d only ever shot a gun at a firing range on a holiday in Vegas.

“That Rakiri who… touched you, was a head taller, had fifty pounds of muscle on you, and razor-sharp claws. But it’s not about a physical fight. It’s… exhausting, isn’t it? I know what it’s like to be stared at, to be judged and whispered about. I just… I didn’t want you to feel that way,” her voice losing its edge and becoming weary.

Her words, full of a raw, unexpected empathy, hit me harder than any physical blow could have. I stopped walking and turned to her, my own anger deflating, replaced by gratitude. “Hey,” I said softly, reaching out to pull her into a hug.

She stopped me, her hand coming up to press gently but firmly against my chest. Her golden eyes were wide, a mixture of alarm and something else… a deep sadness.

“Sten, please,” she whispered, her voice tight. “I know things are different on Earth. I know human men are more feminine… More aggressive. More forward.” She took a shaky breath. “But you’re not on Earth anymore. When you touched my leg at the pub… when you invited me in… holding my hand today… Sten…”

Her gaze was intense, pleading. “You can’t just… do that. Not here. It’s a signal. A promise. You can’t walk around by yourself after dark. Women here… they see you, and they don’t always think. Things can get dangerous, Sten. It’s a dangerous signal to send if you’re not prepared for the consequences. Please, be safe.”

“Did I want to be near you today? Did I want to hold your hand, and stand close to you… Yes, of course.” She paused, her gaze dropping to the pavement as a blush crept up her neck. “I like you, Sten. I… you make me feel…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if she couldn’t find the right words, her shyness overwhelming her. She looked back up at me, her eyes pleading, vulnerable. “Please… don’t play games with me. Don’t tease me. I couldn’t bear it.”

She suddenly realized her hand was still pressed against my chest, the warmth of my body seeping through the fabric of my hoodie. A startling intimacy that made her snatch her hand back as if she’d been burned.

“S-sorry,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the ground. “I didn’t mean to… your chest…”

My smile was soft. “Kaelis,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “You can touch me any time you want.”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with a mixture of hope and panic. “Don’t,” she begged, her voice a raw whisper. “Please…” her voice trailed off.

I took a step closer, my own gaze softening. “I want to kiss you,” I stated, my voice a clear, low declaration in the silence on the street. “May I?” I asked.

She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. For a long moment, she was completely still, the only movement the frantic rise and fall of her chest. Then, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her blush deepening to a vibrant, neon blue.

That was all the invitation I needed. I reached up, my hands cupping her face, my thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones. I pulled her head down towards mine, my eyes never leaving hers. Her lips were soft, a little cool from the afternoon air. The first touch was gentle, a question. When she didn’t pull away, when I felt her lean into me, the kiss deepened. I was gentle, a slow exploration. Her lips were impossibly soft. I parted my own, brushing my tongue against hers, and a soft, broken whimper escaped her throat. She tasted of sweet, berry-ish tea and something else, something uniquely Kaelis that sent a jolt straight through me. It wasn’t a fiery, passionate kiss, but something quieter, more profound. Her small tusks pressed gently against my lips, a reminder of just how alien this all was, but in that moment, nothing had ever felt more right.

When I finally pulled back, we were both a little breathless. Kaelis’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly swollen, and her blush was a beautiful, deep shade of blue. She looked… stunned.

“I’m not playing,” I said, my voice a little rough. “I’m not teasing. I like you, Kaelis.” I didn’t want this to end here, on a public street. “So,” I asked, “can I convince you to come back to my place for some tea?”

⸻

The walk back to my apartment was a silent movie played out against the backdrop of Vor’s Scratch’s colourful, quiet streets. We didn’t speak, there was nothing that needed to be said. Our hands were locked together, a silent conversation passing between our clasped fingers. The tension was thick, a live wire humming between us with every step. I could feel the nervous energy radiating from Kaelis, her hand slightly sweaty in mine. I could hear her excited breathing, a testament to the storm of excitement and fear that I could see warring in her golden eyes.

The moment the apartment door clicked shut behind us, the dam of restraint broke. We burst into the room, a whirlwind of pent-up energy. I shrugged off my hoodie, letting it fall to the floor, and kicked off my shoes without bothering to untie them. I turned to find Kaelis had done the same, her own jacket and boots discarded by the door.

All thoughts of tea had evaporated. She stood in the middle of my small entry room, looking like a cornered animal - all wide, panicked eyes and rapid breaths. The fear was still there, but underneath it was a desperate, raw hunger that mirrored my own.

“I want to touch you,” I said again, my voice a low, rough whisper that was barely audible in the quiet room.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of the same fear I’d seen on the street crossing her face. Then, it was gone, replaced by a raw, undeniable hunger. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached a hand out towards me.

I met her halfway, my fingers lacing with hers. I pulled her gently towards me, and this time, when I raised my head to kiss her, there was no hesitation. She met me with an equal, desperate force, her lips parting under mine. Her tongue, bold and curious, darted into my mouth, exploring with an intensity that sent a jolt of pure electricity through me. I wrapped my arms around her, my hands finding the curve of her ass, gripping her tightly and pulling her flush against me. A low moan rumbled in her chest, and her hands came up to press against me, her fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders as she ran them over my chest, mapping the unfamiliar terrain of my body.

Reluctantly, I pulled my hands away from her ass, sliding them up her sides, under the soft fabric of her top. My palms found the small, firm mounds of her breasts, and I sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had blessed me with the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her skin was hot, almost feverish, and her nipples were pebble-hard, pressing insistently into my hands.

A sharp, broken moan escaped her lips, and her body went limp, her back slumping against the wall next to the coat rack.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear, my voice a deep, gravelly whisper filled with a lust that surprised even me. “Put your hands on your head,” I commanded. “If you take them off, I stop.”

Her hands, which had been gripping my chest, trembled as they reluctantly left me. Slowly, they rose, perching on top of her head, her elbows pointing out to the side. She looked down at me, her body trembling, a volatile mix of vulnerability, raw excitement, and a thrilling edge of fear in her wide golden eyes.

I kissed her again, a slow, deliberate claiming of her mouth. My fingers gently squeezed her hardened nipples, and she groaned into the kiss, a raw, guttural sound of pure pleasure. Her body arched against mine, pressing herself into me, a silent plea for more. I shifted my hips, pressing my erection, hard and insistent even through the fabric of my jeans, against her thigh. A small whimper escaped her, and one of her hands moved to squeeze her wrist as if to hold herself together.

One hand slid down from her breast, tracing a slow, deliberate path over her vibrating stomach. Her abs were locked tight, a wall of tense muscle under my fingertips. I thanked the stars she wasn’t wearing those spray-on leather pants from the other night; I wouldn’t have been able to get a pinky into those. The soft, worn fabric of her current pants, however, was much more forgiving. My fingers found the waistband, slipping easily underneath. Her breath hitched in a sharp, audible gasp.

I didn’t stop, pushing my fingers lower, past the elastic of her underwear. I felt the smooth, hot skin over her pubic bone, the humid heat of her core a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. Kaelis groaned, her eyes fluttering shut as I gave her nipple another gentle tweak, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. My fingers moved lower still, the tips teasing, finding the hard, sensitive nub of her clit and circling it with a slow, deliberate pressure. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped Kaelis. Her whole body jolted, arching off the wall as the intense pleasure hit her.

My finger traced a path downward, parting the soft folds of her lips. She was so wet, a copious, silky heat that coated my fingertip as I dipped just inside her. I brought that wetness back up, my now-soaked finger gliding over the engorged, sensitive nub of her clitoris. The gasp turned into a choked sob, followed by a high-pitched whimper. She was unable to form words, only able to react with raw, instinctual sounds of pleasure.

I watched her, fascinated. She was so sensitive, so incredibly reactive to my touch. Every small movement, every shift in pressure, drew a response from her. A gasp, a clench of her thighs, a low moan that vibrated through her body and into my hand. I flicked my finger over the hard nub again, then circled it, applying a soft, steady pressure.

I dragged my finger over her clit one more time, slowly, deliberately. Her entire body went rigid, a bowstring pulled taut. Every muscle strained, her jaw clenched, her back arched as she fought against the overwhelming tide of sensation, one hand gripping her topknot so tightly I was afraid she’d pull the hair from her scalp, the other clamping down on the wrist of the first, her purple skin turning white from the force of her grip.

A low, guttural whimper tore from her lips, and her whole body convulsed. Holy shit. Did she just cum from that? Just from my finger? Her rigid body slowly relaxed, and she sagged against the wall, gasping for air.

Her eyes snapped open, looking down at me, and then - they were swimming with tears. I paused for a beat, confused, before continuing the gentle, circling motion of my finger, dipping down again into her even wetter hidden depths. With my other hand, I let go of her breast, wrapping my arm around her waist to pull her closer, pressing my lips to the soft fabric of her shirt, right over her heart.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob tore from her throat, and then another. Her hands dropped from her head, falling limply to her sides. I gently pulled my hand from her pants and stepped back, a soft, teasing chide on my lips for her breaking my little rule.

But the words died in my throat. What the hell was this? The face that looked back at me was a mask of pure mortification, her arousal replaced by a terror so profound it was like a bucket of ice water on my own lust. She started babbling, a stream of panicked, rapid Shil’vati I couldn’t understand, her words tumbling over each other in a desperate, broken torrent.

She took a step back, breaking away from my embrace, her eyes darting towards the door. She was going to flee, to escape, ignoring her jacket and shoes still strewn on the floor. Before she could turn, I closed the distance between us. I wrapped both my arms around her, pulling her into a firm, unyielding hold. I buried my face between the modest swell of her breasts, holding her tight against me, one hand stroking the smooth, trembling skin of her back as hot tears began to fall onto my bald head.

Her body was a taut wire of panic against mine, but the fight was draining out of her. I could feel the frantic thrum of her heart against my ribs as she slowly, hesitantly, allowed herself to be held, her own arms eventually coming up to wrap around my waist. Her panicked babbling slowly resolved into understandable, if broken, words. “Sorry,” she sobbed, her voice muffled against my head. “I’m so sorry… please… I’m sorry… please don’t… I’m sorry I tried so hard not to… I’m sorry…” The words dissolved into great, ugly sobs that wracked her entire frame.

I didn’t say anything, just held her. Slowly, gently, I guided her over to the couch, pulling her down onto the soft cushions with me. I kept my arms wrapped around her, cooing softly, murmuring “I’m here, I’ve got you.” Over and over again, my hand rubbing soothing circles on her back until her violent sobs slowly subsided into quiet, shuddering breaths.

I didn’t know what was going on, what she was so ashamed of. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t try to ask, just stayed with her. Holding her, being there, my hand a steady stroking presence on her back.

After what felt like an eternity, her sobs began to subside. I slowly pulled back, looking up at her. Her face was a mess, her beautiful features blotchy and streaked with tears. She looked down at me for a fraction of a second before her gaze darted away, her expression a mask of raw shame.

I let go of her with one hand, reaching up to gently cup her cheek, turning her face back towards mine. “I want to kiss you,” I said, mirroring earlier, my voice a clear, low declaration in the quiet sound of her soft sobs. “May I?”

She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape, tears still rolling down her splotchy face, her hair a mess. For a long moment, she was completely still. Then, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

I guided her head down towards mine, my eyes never leaving hers. Her lips were hot from her passion, and wet from her tears. The kiss was gentle, my lips against hers. I parted my own, brushing my tongue against her lips, and a soft, broken sigh escaped her throat.

“Would you like some tea?” I asked gently, my voice a low murmur against her lips.

She nodded, a single, jerky movement.

“Will you promise to stay here, on the couch?” I asked, my gaze steady.

Another nod. Then, “I… I need to use the bathroom,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Okay,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “But promise me you’ll come right back. You won’t leave?”

She looked at me, her golden eyes wide and vulnerable. She nodded again. I gave her one last, quick kiss, my fingers gently stroking her messy hair.

I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. A few moments later, Kaelis emerged from the bathroom. She looked a little more put together, her face washed clean of tears, her dark hair somewhat tamed. I came back to the couch with two steaming mugs of the metallic, berry-ish tea and handed one to her.

I sat down next to her, our thighs pressing together, and leaned into her, letting my body relax into hers. I didn’t say anything, just sat with her, being there, in the quiet of the moment.

After a long, comfortable silence, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the silence stretch for another beat before I asked, “What for?”

She struggled, her mouth opening and closing a few times before the words finally came out, a pained, humiliated whisper. “For cumming so fast.”

I didn’t respond right away, just pulled her closer until her head was resting on my shoulder. I sipped my tea and snuggled into her a little more, letting my presence be a silent reassurance. After a moment, I asked, my voice a low murmur against her hair, “Did you like it? Did you like my touch?” I murmured into her hair.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word a breath of sound. “Very, very much.”

“Can I do it again?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. “You’d… you’d want to?”

I chuckled, a low, rough sound. “Yes, very, very much. Seeing you come like that was hot as fuck.” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I want to take you to the bedroom, push you down on that bed, and make you come so many times you’ll lose your mind, begging me to stop. And then… then I want to fuck you.”

A small whimper escaped her, and she pressed herself against my back, a silent, desperate plea. “M-maybe,” she stuttered softly, “maybe we could go to the bedroom now?”

I chuckled again, a soft, gentle sound this time. I took one of her hands in mine, bringing it to my lips for a soft kiss. “Not today,” I said, my voice firm but kind. “You took your hands off your head.” I let the playful reminder of my game hang in the air for a moment. “But,” I continued, my tone softening, “I would very much like it if you stayed the night. I’d like to just… hold you. And you can think about what might happen next time… if you’re a good girl.”

Kaelis let out a long, fractured sigh, a sound torn between disappointment, relief, and desire. The last of the tension didn’t so much leave her body as it was replaced by a deep, trembling yearning. She pressed herself closer, seeking the comfort of my body even as a part of hers was screaming to run. “I’d like that very much,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread of sound, thick with a desire that was as terrifying to her as it was undeniable. “But… I’ll have to leave early. I have a… a work thing… tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I said, a little confused. “But isn’t it still Shel tomorrow?”

She just nodded, and I felt her chin rest on the top of my head. “Yeah. Sometimes I have to work over Shel.” I didn’t press. She was evasive about her work, and I could give her the time and space she needed. I just wrapped my arms a little tighter around her, snuggling in.

The rest of the evening passed in a gentle, domestic quiet. I cooked for us, my hands moving on instinct in the small kitchen. It was my own quiet way of saying, ‘You’re safe here.’ The meal was simple, a hearty plate of ground turox in a rich tormak berry sauce, served over roasted kresh tubers. It was warm and filling, a fusion of Earth techniques and Dirt ingredients. I thought it needed cheese.

Kaelis sat at the small kitchen counter, watching me with a fascinated intensity. “What are you doing now?” she’d ask, her voice soft, as I crushed the tormak berries with the back of a spoon.

“’Speeding up the breakdown of the cell walls,” I explained, happy for the distraction. “It helps release all the flavour. As they cook, some of the starches will convert to sugars, making them sweeter.” Later, as I browned the turox mince, I told her about umami, and how a splash of the fermented fish sauce I’d found at a local Rakiri fishmonger would add a deep note to the dish.

I glanced at the dark holo-screen on the wall but made no move to turn it on. I wanted to spend time with her, not next to her. She seemed content with that, happy to just watch me move around the tiny kitchen. Getting out plates, checking on the tubers in the oven, stirring the sauce. It was simple, and it was good.

Over dinner, I tried to gently draw her out. “So, what was it like for you, growing up?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.

She kept it light, sharing anecdotes that were like snapshots from a life lived at a distance. She talked about a sports coach who pushed her to be faster, a favourite park where she’d spend hours running until her legs ached. There was a clear passion for physical activity, a love for the simple, uncomplicated burn of exertion. It made perfect sense that she’d become a Physical Performance Analyst.

But there were gaps, empty spaces in her stories where names and places should have been. No mention of close friends, no fond memories of family gatherings. It was clear there was trauma there, a walled-off part of her past she wasn’t ready to share. The nuances of interpersonal relationships weren’t her strong suit, but I didn’t mind. I was an odd-ball myself, a wanderer who’d never quite fit in anywhere. In her quiet, guarded way, she was more relatable than anyone I’d met since leaving Earth.

As we loaded the dishwasher together, in the tiny kitchen, our hips kept bumping, sending small jolts through me each time. The easy domesticity of the evening was slowly giving way to a familiar, charged tension. It was getting late, and the unspoken question of ‘what now?’ hung heavy in the air. I could see the nervousness returning to Kaelis. Her movements became a little too quick, a little too jerky. She fumbled a plate, her fingers suddenly clumsy, and I saw her jaw clench as she caught it just before it hit the floor. Her breathing was a little too shallow, her shoulders a little too tight.

I stopped, turning off the water and taking her wet hands in mine. “Hey,” I said softly, my voice a low, gentle rumble. “There’s no pressure tonight. I just want to feel you next to me. Maybe we’ll kiss, maybe we won’t. There’s no expectation. You can’t do anything ‘wrong’. And anytime you want to leave, that’s fine. I still want to see you again.”

She looked at me, her golden eyes wide and searching. After a long moment, she gave a small, jerky nod. “Okay,” she whispered, some of the tension visibly leaving her shoulders.

After we’d finished cleaning up, we migrated back to the couch. I pulled up the real-estate listings on my data-slate, and for the next hour, we sat pressed hip to hip, scrolling through apartments. The earlier tension was replaced by a comfortable ease. We weighed the pros and cons of different neighbourhoods, debated the merits of a top-floor apartment versus a ground-floor one, and laughed at some of the more… creative… decorating choices of the previous tenants. It was simple, normal, and exactly what we both needed.

I stood up and grabbed a change of clothes. “I’m just going to have a quick shower,” I said. I returned a few minutes later, wearing a pair of soft, worn pyjama bottoms, a towel slung around my neck. “Shower’s all yours if you want it.”

Kaelis was sitting where I’d left her on the couch. Her golden eyes were dark, her pupils blown wide as they devoured my bare chest. I wasn’t particularly fit; a couple of gym sessions a week wasn’t enough to counteract a lifetime of sitting at a desk. But in that moment, under her hungry gaze, I felt like a god.

“I’ll… I’ll have a shower,” she mumbled, her voice thick as she pushed herself off the couch and headed for the bathroom.

“Okay,” I said, a smile playing on my lips. “I’ll be in bed. I hope you’ll join me.” I paused, my expression turning a little more serious. “But if you want to go, please tell me. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

I went into the bedroom, propped myself up against the pillows, and started idly browsing The Weave on my data-slate. A couple of minutes later, the shower clicked off. The bedroom door slid open, and Kaelis walked in. She was wearing nothing but her panties and the t-shirt she’d had on earlier. Her skin glowed, still damp from the shower, and her dark hair was slicked back from her face.

My breath caught in my throat. I let my eyes roam over her, taking in the long lines of her legs, the curve of her hips, the modest swell of her breasts under the thin fabric. “Goddess, you are beautiful,” I said, my voice thick.

I patted the empty space beside me. She came over, sliding under the covers. I pulled her into my arms, feeling her body pressed against mine. I leaned over and gave her a soft, gentle kiss on the cheek, no tongue, just a simple press of lips.

After a moment, I whispered against her hair, “Would you consider taking off your shirt? I want to feel your skin against mine.”

She nodded shyly, a single, jerky movement. She sat up, and with a hesitant grace, pulled the shirt over her head. I basked in the view. Her breasts were small, conical, with nipples that were already erect, dark points against her purple skin. Before she could react, before her self-consciousness could kick in, I leaned forward and gave each nipple a soft, lingering kiss. A sharp gasp escaped her, and she squirmed, a delicious shiver running through her.

I gently guided her down to lie beside me. Then, deliberately, I turned away from her. The soft, wounded whimper that escaped her was a clear signal she’d been hoping for more. A slow smile touched my lips as I reached back blindly, finding her arm and pulling it over my chest, trapping it against me.

I pressed my back into her, her big spoon to my little one, reveling in the feel of her against my skin. I shifted my legs, tangling them with hers, the smoothness of her skin a stark, wonderful contrast to the rough hair of my own.

I was acutely aware of her arousal, the insistent pressure of her nipples, the searing warmth of her groin pressed against my ass, and the throbbing hardness of my own erection. My stupid game was going to be the end of me. Finally, with a long, slow sigh, I tried to relax.

Her breath, hot and steady against my neck, was a counterpoint to the frantic, rabbit-fast rhythm of her heart thrumming against my spine. She took my hand in hers, and I savored the simple, profound intimacy of it all, relaxing into her embrace. I softly stroked the back of her hand with my thumb, relaxing into the moment and the feel of her.

⸻

I woke to the softest of touches, a ghost of a kiss against my cheek. I blinked, my eyes struggling to adjust to the pre-dawn gloom. Kaelis was standing by the bed, fully dressed, her jacket already on. She leaned down, her expression a mixture of nervousness and something else… a tentative, fragile hope. She gave me another quick, hesitant kiss.

I was still half-asleep, my mind a fuzzy, comfortable fog, but my body reacted on instinct. I reached up, my hand finding the back of her neck, and pulled her down for a proper kiss, deep and lingering. She melted into it for a second before pulling away, her eyes wide.

“I want to see you again,” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.

“Okay,” she whispered, a nervous tremor in her voice. And then she was gone, the bedroom door sliding shut behind her with a soft click. I was asleep again before my head even hit the pillow.

⸻

Chapter 7 - Revelations

There’s a personal truth that everyone who has ever been interested in another person knows: the agony of the post-date text. It’s a delicate, high-stakes game of digital chicken. You want to show you’re interested, but not desperate. You want to be cool, but not cold. You’re supposed to wait, but not too long.

It is, however, stupid. If you like the girl, boy, lizard person, or mono-sexual-tree-being, just send them a fucking message. If they’re going to play games with you, better to find out sooner rather than later. This applies doubly for a seven-foot-tall purple alien who is a walking, talking bundle of contradictions. I’d been spooned by her most of the night. She was like having a forge cuddled up to your back. I’d kicked off all the blankets on my side of the bed in minutes.

I’d like some more please.

So when I woke up late, almost midday, I had a simple thought in my head: I wanted to see her again. I rolled over, grabbed my data-slate from the bedside table, and typed out a message, my thumbs moving with a decisiveness that my younger self would have envied.

Sten> Good morning. I had a great time last night, I hope we can do it again!

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. I didn’t get a reply, I guess she was busy with her work thing. Or she didn’t want to see me. Alea iacta est - the die is cast.

With that done, and with the anxious energy of a sent message hanging in the air, I decided to burn it off by being productive. I puttered around the apartment, the quiet hum of the laundry unit a backdrop to the slow process of adulting. I tidied, folded clothes, did a bit of shopping, and tried to ignore the incessant silence from my data-slate.

I decided to skip the soulless, corporate Fod this time, and instead sought out the local, Rakiri-owned shops. I found a butcher called ‘The Carved Turox’ and a greengrocer named ‘Dirt’s Bounty’. The quality was immediately obvious. The vegetables were fresher, the cuts of meat looked better. The Rakiri running the shops, while definitely curious about the lone human male, were friendly and helpful.

Later that afternoon, I headed to the gym. It was a large, open space filled with the clank of weights and the low hum of cardio machines. And, like everywhere else in Vors, it was filled with Rakiri women. The air was thick with the scent of exertion and damp fur. The moment I walked in, I felt the familiar weight of dozens of eyes on me. I did my best to ignore it, slapping on my headphones and losing myself in the rhythm of my workout. The music was a good shield, allowing me to tune out the half-muttered comments and the not-so-subtle come-ons.

But a shield can only do so much against a battering ram. I was in the middle of a set on the bench press when a shadow fell over me. I glanced up into the grinning face of a Rakiri woman who looked like she could bench press me. She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear her over the music. I finished my set, sat up, and pulled off my headphones.

“Sorry,” I said, a little out of breath. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I said,” she repeated, her voice a low, confident purr, “you must be a human. I’m Vorka. I’ve been watching you. Your form could use a little work.” She let her eyes roam over my sweaty body. “But I bet you’re good at other things,” she finished, leering.

“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“You know,” she continued, leaning in a little closer, “my friends and I have a bet going. About whether your cum tastes sweet, like cake frosting. So, what do you say, will you frost my cake?”

I stared at her, my mind momentarily blanking at the sheer, unadulterated cringe of it all. “I think you’ve ruined cake for me, forever,” I said, my voice deadpan.

“Huh?” she asked, her grin faltering for a second.

“You know when you smell something truly horrible, like rotting clam, and that little bit of vomit comes up in the back of your mouth? That involuntary gag reflex?” I stared at her. “That’s what you’ve just permanently associated with cake for me. For the rest of my life, every time I see a piece of cake, I’m going to think of this exact moment and will have to swallow down vomit. So, thanks. You’ve successfully ruined every single birthday I’ll ever have from now on.”

Vorka’s confident grin faltered, her ears flattening against her skull for a fraction of a second. A flicker of something - hurt? embarrassment? - crossed her face before the mask of bravado snapped back into place. “Whatever, weirdo,” she scoffed, but the insult lacked its intended bite.

“I’m going to have to tell my grandkids about this,” I continued, my tone relentlessly flat. “Decades from now, they’ll ask, ‘Grandpa, why don’t you ever eat birthday cake?’ And I’ll sit them down and tell them all about Vorka, the rotting gym clam.”

She turned, forcing a swagger into her walk as she sauntered back to her friends, her shoulders just a little too stiff, her laughter a little too loud. She took a quick sniff of herself. I shook my head, a weary smile on my face, and put my headphones back on, cranking up the volume.

Later that evening, my data-slate chimed with a new message. My heart gave a little lurch when I saw Kaelis’s name.

Kaelis> Hey. Sorry, I was busy with work all day. I'd love to see you again!

I felt instant relief.

Sten> No worries, when’s a good time for you?

Kaelis> Um, I've got work things for the next couple of days, but after that, can I take you to dinner?

Sten> That sounds awesome. I'd love that.

⸻

The new week brought a new energy to our little team. We dove headfirst into the code, laying the groundwork for the new user event system and hardening the data pipelines to handle the flood of information we were about to unleash. It was the kind of tangible, foundational work I loved, the digital equivalent of laying the super-highways for a new city. The team was firing on all cylinders, their initial shyness replaced by a focused energy.

Our little ‘strike team’ had continued to commandeer one of the glass-walled meeting rooms, dragging a couple of workstations inside to create a temporary war room. Even Bria, who a week ago would flinch if I looked her way, was now tapping confidently on the holo-display. “Sten,” she’d said, her voice soft but sure. “If we route the event flow this way, we’ll create a bottleneck.” And she was right.

It was our sanctuary, a place where we could mob or pair program, debating implementation details and clarify architecture without the prying eyes of the main dev pit. That newfound confidence spilled out of the office when, as promised, we all headed out for a drink after work.

We ended up back at ‘The Broken Pick’. The girls wouldn’t let me buy any drinks, insisting that they would buy. I asked for that dark spirit I’d had with Torka. Zyl just nodded at my vague description, a flicker of understanding in her green eyes, and soon returned with a glass of amber liquid that smelled of smoked wood and something vaguely sweet, like burnt sugar.

This time Bria and Tian crowded me into the bench seat, their bodies warm and solid on either side of me. Trapping me or protecting me, I wasn’t sure which. A week ago, I would have felt like prey being cornered. Now, it just felt… complicated. I trusted these girls; I’d spent hours and hours with them, crammed into our little war room, sharing jokes and frustrations.

Bria’s thigh pressed against mine, and I could feel the warmth of Tian’s side through my shirt. My skin prickled. What would Kaelis think? After she’d practically begged me to be careful, here I was sending every signal she’d warned me against. Was this cheating? We hadn’t defined anything, but it felt… disloyal.

And what about the team? They were clearly interested in me, their casual touches and lingering glances a language that transcended species. Leading them on would be a shitty thing to do and a disaster for our work dynamic. This was a minefield, and I was running into it. Kaelis and I had been on one ‘date’? What were we? Was it okay for me to be here, doing whatever this was? Conversations needed to happen, but later.

Successfully putting off all the difficult conversations for a little bit, I took a long swallow of my drink, savoring the burnt, smoky sweetness of the dark spirit.

It was Bria who broke the comfortable silence, her voice soft but curious. “Sten… what other places did you work at back on Earth? Before the dating app, I mean.”

“Oh, a few different places,” I said with a shrug. “Right before that, I was in FinTech, building trading software. And before that, I was at a gaming company.”

The reaction was immediate. Tian physically leaned forward, her claws tapping an excited rhythm on the table. Bria’s tail gave a series of rapid, happy thumps against the bench, and even Zyl’s usual composure broke as her ears perked up, laser-focused on me.

“You made games?” Tian breathed, her voice full of a reverence I hadn’t heard from her before. “I didn’t think… males played games.”

“This one does,” I said with a grin. “Or, I used to, a lot. Less time for it these days. I made mobile games.”

“Wow,” Tian breathed, “That must have been the best job ever.”

I gave a wry laugh. “It had its moments, but mostly it was long hours, lots of crunching, and the pay was terrible.”

“Crunching?” Zyl asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s that?”

“It’s when you work twelve to sixteen-hour days, sometimes for weeks at a time, to try and meet a deadline,” I explained. The looks of shock on their faces were almost comical. “There was a whole movement in some parts of the tech industry on Earth called ‘996’. Nine in the morning to nine at night, six days a week.”

“But… that’s every day,” Bria whispered, horrified.

“Well, the weeks on Earth used to be seven days long, before the Shil invaded,” I said. A sudden, uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

Tian, ever the one to break a heavy mood, jumped in. “So, will you play games with us sometime?” she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.

I laughed, the tension broken. “I’d love to, but I don’t really have a setup at the moment. My data-slate isn’t exactly a gaming rig. I’d rather not buy anything until I’ve moved into my own place. But once I do, sure. That’d be fun!”

The girls erupted in a flurry of excited chatter, talking over each other in a mix of Shil and Rakiri. “We could play ‘Starfire Command’!” Bria suggested, her usual shyness forgotten. “Or maybe ‘Mecha Dominion Online’,” Tian countered. “He’d probably be good at that.”

As they debated the merits of various games, Tian suddenly cut through the chatter. “Wait, why are you moving?” she asked, her head tilted.

“The place I’m in now is just temporary corporate accommodation,” I explained. “It’s only mine for another couple of weeks.”

“Oh, right,” Zyl said, nodding. “What are you looking for?”

“I was looking at some two-bedroom places over Shel,” I said. “Something with a bit of space, a decent kitchen. A spare room for an office, maybe for guests.”

At the mention of ‘guests’, all three of them perked up, their ears twitching. They exchanged quick, excited glances. I took a sip of my drink, the memory of my house-hunting experience still fresh. “Can I ask you guys something? That three-month lease thing for men… is that normal?”

The girls exchanged uneasy glances. It was Zyl who finally answered, her voice a low rumble. “Yeah,” she said, her gaze dropping to the table. “It’s… normal in Vors.” They all looked a little ashamed, a silent acknowledgment of the casual sexism of their world.

“Is that because men are expected to find a… sugar-mamma?” I asked, the Earth term sounding strange and out of place.

A wave of smirks and twitching tails went around the table. “We usually call it a ‘meat-mamma’,” Zyl rumbled, her own tail curling in mild embarrassment. “But… yeah. That’s the idea.”

I took another sip of my drink. “I’m just a little confused on the terminology,” I said, a mischievous glint in my eye. “Because on Earth, the man is definitely expected to supply the ‘meat’.”

Zyl let out a deep, rumbling chuff of laughter. Tian, however, just looked confused. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head earnestly. “The woman supplies the meat for the pack. She does the hunting.”

Bria leaned over and whispered something in Tian’s ear.

I interrupted with a grin. “Does she also gather the special man-sauce?”

Zyl’s chuff turned into a full-throated laugh that made the glasses on the table rattle. Even Bria let out a series of high-pitched, squeaking giggles she couldn’t contain. Tian’s face was a picture of dawning horror, her tail curling so tightly it was trying to tie itself in a knot. Then, the dam of her confusion broke, and she roared with laughter, her own voice joining the chorus.

As the laughter died down, Zyl, ever the practical one, turned to me. “When you find a place, we can help you move,” she offered, her voice a warm, genuine rumble.

I smiled. “I appreciate that, Zyl, but I don’t really have anything to move. Just a suitcase full of clothes.” I took a sip of my drink. “But… I will need to buy furniture. If you really want to help, you could help me pick some out. Or help me put it together, or whatever you do on Dirt.”

The reaction was instantaneous and unanimous. “Yes!” Tian exclaimed, her tail giving a series of excited thumps against the bench. Bria nodded eagerly, a wide, happy smile on her face. “We’d love to,” Zyl confirmed, her own quiet smile reaching her eyes.

The night went on like that, easy and comfortable. They told me how the three of them had met at university, thrown together on a dreaded group assignment. “It was for ‘Advanced Data Structures’,” Bria explained, a shudder running through her. “The professor was a nightmare.”

“We were the only ones who actually did any work,” Tian grumbled. “The other two just… disappeared.”

I commiserated, shaking my head. “Gods, I hated group assignments. There was always one person who did all the work, and one who took all the credit.” I raised my glass. “But I’m glad it worked out for you three.”

Every time our glasses started getting low, one of them would jump up. “My round!” they’d declare, using my trapped position between them ruthlessly. Before I could even protest, they’d be gone, returning a few minutes later with fresh drinks.

“Hey,” I finally said, as Zyl set down a third round. “You girls have adopted the concept of ‘rounds’ with impressive speed, but you’re doing it wrong. I definitely get paid more than you three. I should be buying too.”

They all looked at me, horrified. “Absolutely not,” Tian said, her voice firm.

“If my mother ever heard I let a man buy his own drinks,” Zyl added, her tone dead serious, “I’d never hear the end of it.” Bria just nodded in solemn agreement.

I threw my hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You win!” But their unified front on the matter raised the question I’d been putting off all night. “So… what is this?” I asked, my voice casual, but my gaze steady. “Is this just after-work drinks with some colleagues, or… is it something else?”

The easy chatter died instantly. A heavy silence fell over the table. Tian’s boisterous energy vanished, replaced by a sudden fascination with her drink. Zyl’s calm composure seemed to crack, her tail curling tightly in a clear sign of embarrassment. It was Bria, surprisingly, who broke the silence. She took a deep breath, her amber eyes meeting mine. “We want this to be something more,” she said, her voice quiet, but clear and steady in the quiet of the bar.

I let her words hang in the air, the weight of them settling over our small table. I felt the air shift, the easy camaraderie of the last hour solidifying into something heavy and expectant. Three pairs of eyes were locked on me, their expressions a volatile mix of hope and raw vulnerability. My mind raced.

“I’m thirty-seven,” I said finally, my voice a low, even statement of fact. “You’re all… what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

“Yeah,” Tian jumped in, her usual bravado returning. “And you’re the first male engineer we’ve ever worked with who isn’t some noble’s useless son. You treat us like equals. You don’t just assign tasks; you drag your desk into a meeting room so we can solve problems together. You listen when we push back on an idea.” She gestured around the pub. “You come for drinks with us. You even play games. You’re… different.”

“I’m human,” I said with a small, tired smile.

“Yeah, and that makes it even better,” Zyl blurted out, her usual calm demeanor cracking. “We’ve seen the porn.” The words hung in the air for a second before she realized what she’d said, her tail curling in a tight knot of rare Zyl embarrassment.

My brain short-circuited. Of all the things I expected her to say, that was not on the list. A beat of stunned silence, and then I burst out laughing, a genuine, open sound that shattered the tension. “I hate to break it to you,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye, “but I’m not hung like a porn star. I’m very, very average.”

The girls all laughed at that. “Maybe I should just check,” Tian said, her voice full of mischief as she made a very obvious move to slide her hand toward my crotch.

I laughed and slapped her hand away playfully. “Down, girl.” My smile faded as I looked at them, the easy humour of the moment giving way to the more serious questions that had been nagging at me. “What about work?”

The girls looked confused.

“I mean,” I explained, “what happens if we have an argument at home? Does that carry over into the office the next day? Or what if we have a disagreement at work? Does that mean I’m sleeping on the couch?”

They still looked baffled. Tian’s brow furrowed. “But… why would the man sleep on the couch?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

It was Zyl who finally replied, her voice a low, thoughtful rumble. “Most of the local businesses here are pack-run. My aunt runs a transport company with her wives and husband. They argue about logistics over dinner and are back to joking by dessert. They work together, they live together… that’s normal.”

“It’s not normal for all humans,” I countered. “I need… space. Time alone.”

“So take time alone,” Zyl said with a shrug. “The pack is home, not a prison.”

“Okay, but what about a work argument?” I pressed. “What if we have a fundamental disagreement on how to solve a problem?”

Bria spoke up then, her voice soft but her logic sharp. “What if we weren’t a pack, and you and I had an argument at work? How would you solve it then?”

I paused, taken aback. That was… a really good point. If I had a disagreement with any other co-worker, I’d talk it through, we’d find a compromise, or I’d make a decision as the team lead. It wouldn’t be personal. Why should this be any different?

“So, what happens now?” I asked, looking at each of them in turn.

Tian leaned forward, her earlier bravado replaced by a surprising, matter-of-fact sincerity. “We hang out,” she said with a shrug. “We see what happens. Maybe we stay friends. Maybe we become… fucking-friends?” She glanced at Bria and Zyl, who both nodded in agreement. “And maybe,” she finished, her gaze steady and serious, “we become a pack.”

“That’s… a very mature way of looking at it,” I said, genuinely impressed. “I wish I’d had that kind of perspective when I was your age.” I took a deep breath, knowing I had to be honest. “But… I have something to confess. I… kissed a girl last Shel. And I don’t really know what we are yet.”

The atmosphere at the table shifted. Tian’s excited tail-thumping stilled. Zyl’s ears flattened for a fraction of a second, and Bria’s hopeful smile faltered, her gaze dropping to her hands, now clenched in her lap.

“Oh,” Tian said, her voice small. “So… you don’t want to hang out with us anymore?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” I said quickly. “I do. I really do. I just… I need to be honest with you. It’s complicated.”

Zyl just shrugged. “It’s pretty common on Dirt for men to date multiple girls at once. Especially before forming a pack.”

I shook my head. “A man doing that on Earth would be seen as a bit of a jerk. I feel guilty just talking about this.” I took a deep breath. “I want to be honest with all of you. No secrets.”

The girls all nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. “Thank you,” Tian said, her voice soft.

Bria’s hands were clenched in her lap, her knuckles white. She took a small, shaky breath, but when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly steady, her gaze direct and unwavering. “Do you… do you find us attractive?”

I looked at them, really looked at them, one by one. I met Tian’s bright, confident green eyes. “Tian, you have an energy that could power a city. You’re fierce, funny, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind or laugh at yourself. I love your passion.”

My gaze shifted to Zyl, her calm, steady presence a welcome anchor in the emotional storm of the last few minutes. “Zyl, you’re the heart of our team. You’re smart, and thoughtful, and you have this incredible, quiet strength that makes me feel… safe.” I thought of her stories of the wilderness, of the quiet of the trees. “I’d love to explore the quiet wilds with you sometime.”

Finally, I looked at Bria, her amber eyes wide and hopeful. I leaned in, my voice dropping to a low whisper for her. “Bria, you’re kind, and gentle, and you have a talent that’s just… breathtaking. And there’s something about you that makes me want to…” I trailed off, breathing out.

Leaning back, I took a long swallow of my drink, the absurdity of the situation washing over me. “The Deep take me,” I said, shaking my head with a laugh. “You’re all walking fantasies. If I told my younger self that one day I’d be having drinks with three goddesses, and they’d all be talking about ‘wanting to hang out’… well, my younger self would have assumed I had a serious drug problem.”

Their reaction was a beautiful, chaotic symphony of happy embarrassment. Tian’s tail started thumping a rapid, excited rhythm against the bench seat. Zyl’s own tail gave a slow, pleased sweep, though her ears flattened slightly. Bria, however, looked like she might actually combust, her tail curled so tightly under the bench-seat it was a wonder it didn’t snap.

I put my arms around the two girls beside me, pulling them in, they came willingly. Being enveloped by two, furry creatures who were both taller and stronger than me was a novel experience. It was like being hugged by a pair of warm, living blankets that smelled faintly of ozone and something uniquely, pleasantly Rakiri. I looked across the table at Zyl, then back to the two in my arms. “I find you all very attractive,” I said, my voice a low, deliberate statement for all of them to hear.

They were silent for a while after that, a comfortable, charged quiet settling over our table. Conversation started again slowly. It was the same, easy, comfortable conversation as before. But it was different, laced with a new intimacy, a subtle understanding and nuance.

Later, it was Tian’s round. She let out a small, reluctant sigh and untangled herself from my embrace. As soon as she returned with a fresh tray of drinks, she was back, pressing herself against my side with a contented sigh. Across the table, Zyl watched us, her expression impassive, but her green eyes held a deep, still-water intensity. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly, but a quiet, watchful longing that I couldn’t begin to decipher.

After another couple of rounds, none of which I managed to pay for, we got up to leave. The girls stood back, giving me space as I performed the graceful, human dance of putting on a hoodie. As we walked out into the cool night air, Zyl fell into step beside me. I didn’t bother asking, and the girls didn’t bother commenting; it was a given they were walking me home. Zyl stood close, her presence a silent, solid comfort, until I reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in. I leaned into her, reveling in the warmth and the soft, thick feel of her fur.

The walk home was quiet, everyone deep in their own thoughts. When we reached the door to my apartment building, I stopped and turned to face Zyl. I stepped into her, burying my face in the thick, soft fur of her chest. I felt her arms wrap around me, pulling me into a soft, all-encompassing embrace. Her large, furry, unfortunately clothed, breasts pressed against my face, a warm, solid weight, and I breathed in her scent, a clean, musky smell that was uniquely her. I felt a low, rumbling purr of satisfaction start in her chest, a sound that vibrated through me, and in that moment, held securely in her strong, gentle arms, I felt a profound sense of peace. I reluctantly pulled away, the warmth of her embrace lingering on my skin.

I turned and found Bria standing there, her amber eyes wide and hopeful. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She was the same height as me, and she melted into the embrace, burying her face in the curve of my neck. I felt her take a long, deep breath, her nose twitching as she took in my scent. Then, she began to rub her ears against my cheek. The fur was softer than anything I’d ever felt, like velvet, and left a faint, clean scent of ozone and something floral on my skin. The soft, rhythmic motion sent a shiver down my spine. It was an incredibly intimate, and surprisingly possessive, gesture. After a moment that felt both fleeting and eternal, she pulled away, her tail unable to stay still, wagging in a frantic, happy rhythm that betrayed her usual shy demeanor.

Before I could even turn, Tian pounced. She spun me around, wrapping me up in a hug that was less an embrace and more a capture. My face was pressed into her cleavage, the soft, furry mounds a very comfortable prison. Had she somehow pulled her top down to an almost scandalous level while I was occupied with Zyl and Bria? I felt one of her hands slide down, coming to rest on my ass. It just sat there, a warm, heavy presence, a silent promise of more. She held herself back from squeezing, but only just. A contented sigh rumbled through her chest, a warm vibration against my skin. I let the moment linger, feeling the heat of her body, before gently pulling away. I was noticeably warmer than I had been a few minutes ago.

I looked at the three of them; Tian, her eyes dark with longing; Bria, her face a mask of shy hope; and Zyl, her expression a calm, unreadable mystery. A slow smirk spread across my face. “I had a really good night,” I said, my voice a little rough. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The three of them stood there, silent, like a pack of seven-foot predators watching their prey retreat to its den. I went inside, kicked off my boots, and moved to the window, peering through the blinds to get one last look. They were huddled together, walking away, their voices a low, excited murmur. Then I heard Tian’s voice, clear as a bell in the quiet night. “Oh, gods, I’m so wet,” she exclaimed. “My panties are a swamp! I’m going to have to start bringing a spare pair to work.”

⸻

The next couple of days at work settled into a productive rhythm. Our little war room became ours in truth, the glass walls covered in architectural diagrams and scrawled notes. The professional barrier between us had solidified, but it was a porous one. The easy camaraderie from the pub bled into our work sessions, and the air was often punctuated by Tian’s outrageous, flirty comments, which she’d deliver with a wink before diving back into a complex coding problem.

It was after lunch on the second day that I found it. The girls were huddled around Bria’s workstation, their heads close together as they chattered excitedly about a new line of mecha models that had just been released. I left them to it, idly scrolling through The Weave on my own data-slate, trying to get a better sense of the local zeitgeist. Tucked away in the Vor’s Scratch sub-forum, between a complaint about a malfunctioning street heater and an ad for a used grav-skate, was a post that surprised me.

The title was simple: Is Pursuit Safe?

The post was written by a Rakiri man. He described, in clipped, painful detail, how he’d matched with a woman on Pursuit. They’d chatted, they’d clicked, and they’d agreed to meet for a drink. The date had gone well, he wrote, until she’d insisted they go back to her place. He’d been hesitant, but she’d been persistent.

Back at her apartment, things turned. He’d tried to slow her down, tried to say no, but she wasn’t listening. He told her he wanted to leave, but she physically blocked the door. The rest of the post was a blur of shame and violation, a raw, unfiltered account of being sexually assaulted.

Later, much later, he’d checked the sex offender registry for the woman. He’d found her.

The post ended with a series of simple, desperate questions that echoed in my head: “Why was she on Pursuit to start with? Why isn’t there a way to report her? I tried. There’s nothing. Why didn’t they do anything to protect me?”

I stared at the screen, the casual office chatter fading into a dull roar in my ears. This wasn’t just a bug report or a user complaint. This was a fundamental failure of the platform. There were only a handful of replies, but the top one cut straight to the bone, asking a single, chilling question: why did Pursuit let known ‘boy-bashers’ on their platform?

My attention to the girls returned, their voices bright and cheerful as they discussed the upcoming Grav Ball match. Tian was animatedly describing a new play the Voles were working on.

“Hey,” I said, my voice a little rough. “You girls need to see this.”

I turned my data-slate towards them, but the post was gone. I refreshed the page, my fingers suddenly clumsy. Nothing.

“What the hell?” I muttered, scrolling frantically. “It was just here. A post from a guy… he said he was assaulted by a woman he met on Pursuit. But now it’s gone.” I looked up at them, a question in my eyes. “Is this kind of thing common?”

The girls exchanged a look, a familiar, weary expression that spoke volumes. “Yeah, sometimes posts get removed from The Weave,” Tian said with a shrug. “Usually when they’re criticizing a noble.”

“The Countess,” I said, the title a sour taste in my mouth. I remembered my conversation with the executive team, the emphasis on increasing marketing spend. I wondered how much Apex, and by extension the Countess, paid The Weave for advertising. Was it enough to buy more than just banner ads? Was it enough to buy silence? My gaze hardened. “But what about men getting attacked? Is that common?”

The cheerful atmosphere evaporated. The girls shifted uncomfortably, their tails still. It was Zyl who finally broke the heavy silence, her voice a low, grim rumble.

“It happens,” she said, her green eyes dark. “My cousin’s friend’s brother… he was on one of the other apps. He’d been chatting to a girl for a couple of weeks, and they really seemed to connect. When they finally met up…” She trailed off, her jaw tight. “It’s been years, and he still lives at home with his parents. He won’t leave the house. The militia caught her, the boy basher. She already had a record.”

Zyl’s words hit me with the force of a physical blow. The groping in the apartment, the real estate agent, the gym rat. It all coalesced into a single, ugly picture. This wasn’t just a data point. This could have been me.

“This would be so easy to prevent,” I said, my voice low and tight. “We have their Imperium IDs. Assault on males is public information, right? We could easily just… filter those users out. Shadow-ban them. We could stop this from happening.”

The girls exchanged helpless glances. Tian’s hands clenched into fists on the table, her jaw tight with a fury she couldn’t voice. Zyl’s gaze went distant, a grim acceptance settling over her features, while Bria just looked pale, her hand hovering near her stomach as if she were going to be sick. “We… we don’t make those kinds of decisions, Sten,” Bria whispered, echoing the sentiment of the others.

A hot, white rage surged through me. “Fine,” I bit out, the single word sharp and cold. I stood up so abruptly my chair rolled back and hit the wall. Without another word, I stormed out of our war room, my long strides eating up the distance across the main office floor. I ignored the curious and startled looks from the other developers as I made a beeline for Xyla’s office.

I didn’t knock. I slammed the door open, the sound cracking like a whip in the quiet of her workspace.

Xyla looked up from her data-slate, her face a mask of cold fury at the interruption. “What is the meaning of this?” she snapped. “I’m busy. Whatever it is, it can wait.” She made a move to turn back to her slate.

“No,” I said, the word cutting through the air. “This can’t.”

Her eyes narrowed, surprised by the challenge in my tone. It was only then that I took a half-step back, the initial rush of adrenaline giving way to a more controlled, icy rage. “My apologies for the interruption, Xyla,” I said, my voice tight but steady. “Something urgent has come up.”

I strode to her desk, not waiting for an invitation, and quickly recounted what I’d seen on The Weave, Zyl’s story, and the post’s sudden disappearance. “Why aren’t we doing anything about this?” I demanded, my voice low and intense. “We have their Imperium IDs. We have location data from the app. It would be trivial to filter out users with a history of assault, to cooperate with the Interior or the local militia when an attack is reported. We could help prevent this.”

Xyla listened, her expression unreadable, her fingers steepled under her chin. When I finished, she let out a long, slow sigh, the sound dripping with condescension. “Sten,” she said, her voice a silken, patronizing drawl. “That is not what we hired you to do.”

She leaned back in her chair, a small, dismissive smile playing on her lips. “Your job isn’t to save every sad little man who makes a poor decision on a date. Your job is to engage and retain them. To keep them on the platform, swiping and hoping. Nothing more.”

The casual cruelty of her words was a physical blow. “A poor decision?” I repeated, my voice dangerously low. “He was assaulted, Xyla. By a known boy basher.”

Her smile widened, a sharp, predatory thing. “Let me be perfectly clear, so that even a primitive like you can understand.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a harsh, emphatic whisper that was more terrifying than any shout. “Those ‘boy-bashers’, as you so quaintly put it? They are our whales. They are our highest-spending users. They pay for boosts, for premium features, for every little advantage they can get. They’re the cream of the crop.”

She stood up, her voice rising to a furious, shaking crescendo. “So no, Sten! We will not be filtering them out! We will not be cooperating with anyone! We will be taking their money, and you will go and do the fucking job we’re paying you to do. Do you understand me?”

My own anger, hot and righteous a moment before, seemed to curdle into a sick, desperate feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Please,” I said, the word a raw, broken thing. “Please, just… do something. How many young men’s lives are you willing to destroy for credits?”

Xyla’s face contorted into a mask of rage and disdain. “Get the fuck out of my office, Sten,” she snarled, her voice low and venomous. “Now.”

I stared at her for a long moment, the chasm between my own morality and the cold, hard calculus of her business stretching into an unbridgeable void. Nausea washed over me as her words echoed in my head. ‘Your job is to engage and retain them.’ She was right. That was exactly what I was hired to do. I’d moved across the galaxy to make this machine more efficient, to sharpen the teeth on the trap. My algorithms, my code, would be the bait. And Xyla was simply waiting inside to collect the blood money.

There was nothing more to say. I turned, my movements stiff and robotic, and walked out, leaving the door open behind me.

The walk back to the war room was a blur. The office, with its cheerful posters and the low hum of productivity, felt like a scene from another lifetime. I was a ghost, a hollowed-out shell of the man who had stormed out of that room only minutes before. The fury had burned itself out, leaving behind the cold, heavy ash of resignation.

The girls looked up as I entered, their faces a mixture of concern and apprehension. “Sten?” Bria asked, her voice small. “What happened?”

I just shook my head, unable to meet their eyes. “It’s nothing,” I said, my voice flat and lifeless. “Just… a…” I trailed off, sinking into my chair, the energy draining out of me. I looked at Tian, who was still logged into the workstation we’d been sharing. “Hey, can you go work with Zyl and Bria for a bit? I just… I need a minute.”

Tian opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She nodded, her usual boisterous energy completely gone, and moved to join the other two, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I don’t know how long I stared at the same block of code on the holo-display, the glowing symbols a meaningless jumble. The words didn’t register. My mind was a chaotic storm of Xyla’s sneering face, the Countess’s predatory smile, and the crushing weight of my own complicity. I tried to justify it, to rationalize. Surely most of the women on Pursuit weren’t rapists. Some half-remembered trivia surfaced, something about Rakiri having a lower incidence rate of assault on males?

Even most of the ‘whales’ Xyla was so keen to protect were probably just lonely, wealthy women looking for a connection, not predators. It would be a tiny fraction of a percent. I could find out for sure. It wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to write a query, cross-referencing our user base with the sex offender registry.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. What if I was wrong? What if the number wasn’t small? What if it was one percent? Or five? I couldn’t face that number. I couldn’t be the one to uncover the true, quantifiable horror of what we were enabling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I was vaguely aware of the girls huddled together, their heads close, their voices a low, worried murmur. They kept casting glances in my direction, their concern a palpable thing in the small room. I ignored them, too lost in my own bleak landscape to care.

The squeak of a chair rolling broke through my stupor. I looked up to see Zyl standing over me, her expression a mixture of grim determination and a surprising, fierce protectiveness. Before I could say anything, she reached down, her large, strong hand closing around my arm, and pulled me to my feet.

“We’re going for a walk,” she said, her voice a low, non-negotiable rumble.

“I can’t,” I protested weakly, gesturing to the screen. “I’ve got to work.”

Zyl just looked at me, her green eyes full of a quiet, unyielding strength. “You’ve been staring at the same method for the last twenty minutes, Sten,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re not working. Come on.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, her hand still firm on my arm as she guided me out of the meeting room. I was in a daze, a passenger in my own body. I had a vague memory of Zyl grabbing my hoodie from the back of my chair, of her gently lifting my arms and pulling it on for me as if I were a child. I remember the concerned look on Vasha’s face as we passed the reception desk, the silent, smooth descent of the lift, and the rush of cold air as the main doors slid open.

We were walking down the colourful streets of Vor’s Scratch, a light dusting of fresh snow covering the pavement. Maybe a sign of winter returning. I wasn’t sure. Zyl walked beside me, her presence a solid, comforting weight. She didn’t press me to talk, didn’t ask questions. She just walked, a silent, steady companion in my bleak, internal landscape.

At some point, I realized my hand was in hers, her larger, warmer fingers wrapped around mine. The simple, grounding touch was a small anchor in the storm of my thoughts. We walked for a while, leaving the familiar downtown streets behind and heading towards an open area I hadn’t seen before. The air grew cooler, carrying a damp, earthy scent. I realized it was a harbor, a small one, with a few sturdy-looking boats tied up at a solid stone dock. Zyl guided me towards a bench overlooking the dark and choppy water.

I sat, and the scale of the bench immediately made me feel like a kid on an adult’s chair. The cold seeped through my jeans, and I shivered. The feeling of smallness didn’t decrease when Zyl, noticing my shiver, wrapped a strong arm around my shoulders and pulled me into the thick, warm fur of her side.

We sat in silence for a long time, just looking out over the water. A light breeze stirred the surface, creating a mesmerizing pattern of ripples that caught the muted, grey light. I took a deep breath, expecting the sharp tang of salt, but there was nothing. Maybe oceans on Dirt weren’t salty?

“I didn’t realize Vors was near an ocean,” I said finally, my voice sounding rough and unused.

“It’s not,” Zyl replied, her voice a low, soothing rumble against my ear. “This is a lake. It connects to a river that eventually runs out to the sea. Back when Vors was first settled, this was its lifeline. During the summer, ships would come up the river to collect ore and drop off food and materials. Then the long winter would hit, the river and the lake would freeze over, and Vors would be on its own until the ice melted the next summer, waiting for the ships to return.”

I didn’t say anything, just leaned into her solid warmth, the fight draining out of me. I closed my eyes, the rhythmic lapping of the water against the shore and the steady beat of her heart a calming mantra. She just sat there, a solid, unmoving presence, a silent guardian against the storm in my head.

The words were right there, on the tip of my tongue, a poison I needed to spit out. ‘They know, Zyl. They know men are getting hurt and they don’t care. They call the predators ’whales’. We’re building a better trap for them.’

And what would happen then? She would feel disgusted, she was building the trap too. Zyl would tell Tian and Bria, and they might even quit. Then what? Could they get another job? Maybe. But leaving a company after only six months wasn’t a good look, especially for junior engineers on their first job. It would make it incredibly hard for them to find new positions. I doubted they’d all find a job at the same place again. I could always move on, find a job on another world, another city. But this was their home.

The words died in my throat, a bitter pill I forced myself to swallow. I couldn’t tell her. Not yet. It wasn’t fair to put that burden on her, to force her to choose between her conscience and her future. This was my fight. I was the one they’d hired to sharpen the teeth of the trap. It was my responsibility to disarm it. I didn’t know how. But I couldn’t walk away, and I couldn’t let this continue.

I don’t know how long we sat like that. The grey light had begun to fade, the first hints of twilight painting the sky in shades of purple and orange when I finally stirred. I pulled back a little, just enough to look up at her. Her green eyes, calm and steady, met mine. “Hey,” I said, my voice a rough whisper. “Thanks.”

She just nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement, then her arm tightened, pulling me back against her side not just in a hug, but as if shielding me from a cold wind only she could feel. Her arm was a firm, reassuring weight around my shoulders. “I’m here for you,” she said finally, her voice a low murmur against my hair. “So are Tian and Bria. We’re not always sure how we should act around you. Here, now… I’m just treating you like a hunt-sister.”

I was quiet for a moment, the strange, alien term settling in my mind. “Please don’t stop,” I said, the words barely a whisper. I wasn’t sure what I was asking her not to stop - the hug, the hunt-sister friendship, this feeling of being safe, the ‘hanging out’, the looks full of longing. Maybe all of it.

We walked back to the office under a sky bruised deep purple, the silence between us no longer heavy, but settled and calm. By the time we stepped back into the brightly lit lobby, it was the end of the official workday. I was sure our extended absence had been noted. I found I didn’t really care.

When we got back to our war room, Tian and Bria looked up, their faces a mixture of relief and worry. They’d been packing up, their workstations dark.

“Hey,” I said, my voice still a little rough, but the bleakness had lifted, replaced by a quiet resolve. “I don’t want to go home to my empty, Apex-supplied apartment just yet. Can… can we go to the pub?”

Tian’s face lit up with an immediate, hopeful grin, which just as quickly collapsed into a mask of disappointment. “Oh, Sten, I can’t,” she said, her voice laced with genuine regret. “I’ve got a grav-ball game on tonight. At the main stadium. It’s a big one, I really can’t miss it.” She glanced at Zyl and Bria. “But you should go with them!”

Zyl and Bria exchanged a look. Bria seemed to shrink a little, her hope at spending time with me warring with her support for her friend. While Zyl’s expression was more practical, weighing the situation before she gave a slow, deliberate nod. Bria followed her lead a second later.

An idea sparked in my mind. Drinking in a dark pub suddenly felt like the worst possible thing to do, a surefire way to wallow in the day’s misery. But a game… loud, fast, full of life. Seeing Tian in her element, fierce and confident… that felt like an antidote. “A game?” I said, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time in hours. “Why don’t we all just go watch you play? It sounds like fun, and it’s probably a better way to get me out of this funk than drinking right now.”

Tian’s face transformed. Her ears, which had drooped with disappointment, shot straight up. A brilliant, incredulous joy washed over her features, and her tail began to thump a frantic, happy rhythm against her leg. “Really?” she squeaked. “You’d actually want to come watch me play?”

“Yeah,” I said, my smile widening. “I’d love to.”

⸻

Chapter 8 - Rivalry

There’s a truth that transcends blood chemistry, from iron to copper - going to a live game is an experience unlike any other. I’d only heard of Grav-Ball a couple of weeks ago, and I’d never seen a game, on holo-screen or in-real life. While the on-field action is the main event, the experience is so much more than that. It’s about the social ritual of being with friends, the sights and sounds of the venue, the atmosphere, and the feeling of escaping from everyday life for a few hours.

The real truth is that people go to see a game for the entire, unforgettable experience. And one of my… what were we? Teammates? Potential pack-mates? Friends? Whatever the label, one of them was going to be on the field.

The four of us piled into an auto-ground-car. The mood was light, a stark contrast to my afternoon. As we zipped through the colourful streets of Vors, “So it’s like lacrosse, but you can legally assault people with the stick?” I asked.

“I don’t know what lacrosse is, but exactly!” Tian beamed. “What’s not to love?” Zyl just grunted in agreement from the front seat.

The stadium was a massive, brutalist dome of rock and plas-steel on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a sprawling parking lot already filling up with ground-cars. The air, thick with the smell of charred turox meat and something like sweet, burnt sugar, buzzed with energy. A sea of fans, a river of dark fur and brightly dyed accents, some clad in the Voles’ team colours, flowed toward the entrance, their excited chatter a low roar under the stadium lights. Tian practically vibrated with pre-game jitters.

“Alright, this is me,” she announced as we pulled up to the players’ entrance. The auto-ground-car popped its boot, and she heaved out a large, heavy-looking gear bag emblazoned with the Vor’s Scratch Voles logo. “Wish me luck!” With a final, confident grin, she slung the bag over her shoulder and disappeared into the stadium.

“Well, I’m starving,” I said, my stomach rumbling in agreement. “Food truck crawl?”

Bria and Zyl readily agreed. We wandered into a gauntlet of brightly lit food trucks, the air thick with a dozen competing, delicious-smelling aromas. Bria pointed a hesitant claw at a holo-menu displaying a dozen varieties of sausage. “They all look… ok.” Zyl stepped forward, her confidence a welcome anchor in the chaos.

“You have to get the Grak-Stick,” she said, her deep voice full of confidence. “Trust me, it’s the best thing here.” Following her recommendation, we all ordered the same thing. It was a marvel of food truck cuisine: a spiral of turox meat, charred at the edges and glistening with a tangy, almost iridescent purple sauce that popped with a sweet and sour flavour. The ‘stick’ itself was a thick, salty, pretzel-like bread shaft, warm and yielding to the bite. It was delicious.

With our food in hand, we found our seats inside the massive arena. There were two games scheduled for the evening. First up was the amateur league match: Tian’s team, the ‘Vor’s Scratch Voles’, versus the ‘North Ridge Rock-Scuttlers’. After that was the main event, the professional league game. The home team, the ‘Vors Vipers’, were taking on their rivals from New Dirt City, ‘The Capitals’. The stadium was half-full, a sea of furry faces, with a splash of other alien faces scattered throughout, all buzzing with anticipation.

A few minutes later, the Voles ran onto the field, a riot of blue and silver under the bright stadium lights. Tian, her pink hair unmistakable even from a distance, spotted us in the crowd and gave a quick, energetic wave. We all waved back, shouting her name.

The game started, and it was everything Tian had promised and more. It had the speed and violence of ice hockey, but with the added chaos of anti-gravity boots. The players glided across the field at impossible speeds, their long sticks used as much for blocking and tripping as for passing the heavy, grapefruit-sized ball. It wasn’t a game of finesse; it was a brutal, high-speed chess match where the pieces were all armed with clubs.

Tian was fast, aggressive, and utterly fearless. Midway through the first half, she intercepted a pass and charged down the field. One defender moved to block her, but Tian just lowered her shoulder and sent the woman spinning. Another tried to trip her with her stick, but Tian brought her own stick around in a brutal, one-handed swing that caught the defender in the ribs, clubbing her to the ground with a sickening crunch. With a clear path to the goal, she hurled the ball into the opposing team’s net. The crowd roared, but not as loudly as the three of us. We were on our feet, screaming our lungs out, a small island of pure, unadulterated support in the stands.

At halftime, Zyl stood up. “I’ll get a round,” she rumbled, already moving with a quiet efficiency that left no room for argument. So much for my earlier resolution that drinking wasn’t the answer to my funk. But the roar of the crowd and the thrill of the game had washed away the afternoon’s gloom, and a cold drink felt less like a crutch and more like a celebration. She came back a few minutes later, navigating the crowded row with an easy grace, and passed down three flimsy plastic cups of overpriced Red-Grain; the quintessential stadium experience that was true across species and stars. The Voles were up by two points, and the mood was jubilant.

The second half was even more brutal. Early on, Tian took a nasty stick hit to her shoulder, a blow that sent her sprawling. She was slow to get up, favouring the arm, but she shook it off and kept playing, her jaw set in a stubborn line. Despite the rough play, the Voles held their lead and, by the end of the game, had won.

A little while later, Tian joined us, freshly showered and dressed in her ‘civilian’ clothes, a wide, triumphant grin on her face. She slid into the seat next to me with a confident swagger. “Champion’s rights,” she declared, giving Bria a playful wink. I laughed.

“You were incredible out there,” I said, my voice full of genuine admiration. “That hit you took looked nasty, though.”

Tian’s tail gave a quick, embarrassed curl, but she just scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Please, that was nothing. You should see what happens in the playoffs.”

“Let me see,” I insisted, my voice firm. Before she could protest, I reached out, my fingers gently probing the muscle of her shoulder. She winced, a sharp intake of breath, but didn’t pull away. I worked my thumb into the tight knot of muscle, giving it a quick, amateur massage. Her initial tension melted away, replaced by a low, rumbling purr. “Okay, okay, it’s fine,” she finally admitted, her voice a little breathless.

I pulled my hand back, suddenly aware of the odd looks we were getting from some of the other fans nearby. Maybe touching in public wasn’t the most appropriate thing here? Tian, however, just looked at me, her green eyes soft and full of a happy, grateful warmth.

The stadium was filling up now, the energy crackling in the air as fans arrived for the premier league game. We had gotten there early enough to snag great seats, right near the team dugouts.

“I’ll get the next round,” Bria announced, her voice full of a newfound confidence as she stood up. “One for the champion, too.” She gave Tian a wide, proud smile before heading off towards the concession stands.

Just then, a roar went up from the home crowd, a guttural, almost primal sound of howls and cheers that was a world away from any human sporting event I’d ever been to. The Vors Vipers ran onto the field, a blur of motion and team colours.

“I’d love to be good enough to play in the premier league one day,” Tian said, her voice a little wistful as she watched the professional players warming up on the field. “I’m too old now to really have any expectation of a pro career. I’m happy just playing for the Voles.”

One of the players, a Shil’vati, caught my eye. Based on my extensive experience of watching exactly one amateur game, I was surprised to see a non-Rakiri player on the field. She moved with a fluid, athletic grace that was different from the raw power of the Rakiri players.

Tian noticed my gaze. “What is it?” she asked, then followed my line of sight. A slow, teasing grin spread across her face. “Ooooh, does number seven catch your eye? I’m surprised. I thought human men liked their girls to be a little more… generous in the chest department.”

I dragged my eyes away from Bria’s impressive display and back to the Shil’vati player on the field. “No,” I said, my voice quiet. “I just… I know her.”

Tian’s jaw dropped, Bria let out a small gasp, and even Zyl’s usual calm composure broke as her ears shot up.

“You know Kaelis?” Tian finally managed to squeak out, her voice an octave higher than usual. “The Kaelis? Sten, she’s amazing! She was the top scorer in the entire premier league for the last three years running. Her stick work is legendary.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, full of awe. “This is a huge grudge match for her.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, intrigued by her sudden intensity.

“She transferred from The Capitals in the off-season, just before this season started,” Tian explained, her eyes glued to Kaelis on the field. “It was a massive shock to the whole league. She wasn’t just one of their best players; she was their offense. And The Capitals are the best team in the league, they’ve won the championship three of the last five seasons. For her to just walk away from all that to join a mid-tier team like the Vipers… nobody can figure it out.”

Bria chimed in, her voice soft but full of certainty. “She must have taken a huge pay cut, too. The Vipers can’t have the credits to match what The Capitals were paying her.”

“Exactly!” Tian said, pointing at Bria with a clawed finger. “Which is why the gossip was so insane. The rumor is that she was involved with one of her teammate’s brothers. They broke up, and then she just dropped out of the public spotlight. Stopped doing team promo events, interviews, everything. Then, boom, the transfer was announced.” Tian shrugged, “None of it makes any sense.”

The chatter died down as the game began, the roar of the crowd swallowing all conversation. We were all cheering for the home team, but my eyes were fixed on Kaelis. I couldn’t reconcile the two. The shy, uncertain woman I’d come to know was gone. In her place was a predator, an athlete at the peak of her powers. The previous awkwardness I’d seen suddenly seemed like a different woman. Now she was more like a tightly coiled spring, with dangerous energy ready to unleash.

It was clear from the first minute that her old team was targeting her, but this Kaelis was a commando on the battlefield. I watched, fascinated, as she barked orders at her teammates, directing them into position even as two or three Capitals players converged on her. Gone was the blushing, stuttering woman from the pub; this Kaelis was direct, fearless, and utterly in her element. On one play, The Capitals cornered her against the transparent fence while she held the ball. I flinched at the sound - a sickening CRACK that echoed through our section as they slammed her into it. The transparent fence bowed outwards, the whole structure shuddering from the impact. A collective gasp went through the crowd around us, and my own gut clenched tight.

The crowd then roared in protest, but before I could even process if she was okay, Kaelis was back on her feet. She ignored the screaming fans, glided to the dugout. She grabbed a new stick, the old one presumably shattered in the impact, and got right back in the game.

Kaelis wasn’t the biggest player on the field - probably one of the thinnest, in fact. She didn’t get into the aggressive pushing matches that characterized much of the game. She didn’t have to. Speed and agility were supposed to be the Rakiri’s domain, but Kaelis moved like she was born on grav-skates, a blur of purple skin in a sea of fur. She didn’t need to brawl; she weaponized her agility. Time and again, she’d use her incredible speed to simply zip past the brutes from the Capitals team, leaving them grasping at empty air.

Another time, though, the aggression was more blatant. My gut clenched as a Capitals player, a mountain of a woman easily a foot taller than Kaelis, ignored the play entirely and spear tackled her. It was a clear, illegal tackle - a missile seeking a target - and it sent Kaelis sprawling across the field in a tangle of limbs.

The roar of outrage from the home crowd was deafening, but Kaelis was on her feet before it even peaked, her face a mask of cold fury. This wasn’t the same hesitant woman from the pub. She favored one leg as she stormed toward the ref, stabbing her stick in the direction of her attacker. Her voice was lost in the din, but her expression was one of absolute self-assurance as she demanded the penalty be called.

A chorus of boos and jeers erupted from the home crowd as the referee blew the whistle, penalizing The Capitals team.

The penalty gave the Vipers a crucial chance. Kaelis took charge of the play, her voice sharp and clear as she directed her teammates. As the play restarted, three Capitals players immediately converged on her, their sole focus to shut her down. Kaelis saw it coming. With a brilliant feint, she drew them in, creating a massive gap in their defense before whipping a lightning-fast pass to an open teammate who was left completely unguarded. The teammate took the pass and fired the ball into the net for an easy point.

The Capitals continued to throw everything they had at her, but it didn’t seem to matter. By the time the halftime buzzer sounded, the Vipers were still behind by two points, but Kaelis’s performance had been nothing short of heroic. She had a hand in every single one of her team’s points, single-handedly keeping her outmatched team within striking distance.

“I’ll get this round,” Zyl rumbled, standing up as the halftime show began.

“Gods, she’s just… awesome,” Tian breathed, her eyes still glued to the field where Kaelis was heading towards the dugout. “Sten, you have to introduce us. Please?”

I sighed. “I can ask her, but I’m not making any promises. Things were…”

“Things were what?” Bria asked, her curiosity getting the better of her shyness.

I let the silence sit for a while, letting Bria’s question hang, and then sighed. “Let me send her a message.” I pulled out my data-slate and typed out a quick message.

Sten> Hey Kaelis, would you believe I’m watching you play tonight! Any chance we could meet up after the game?

I hit send. “Okay, message sent,” I told Tian and Bria. “We’ll see what she says.”

The second half was just as brutal. The constant targeting by the Capitals was clearly taking its toll. Kaelis wasn’t quite as fast, her movements a little less explosive as she favored her leg. She often had two defenders shadowing her every move, cutting off her passing lanes. Her teammates tried to step up, but they just didn’t have the same skill. There was a reason the Vipers were a mid-tier team. Kaelis fought hard, scoring another two incredible goals that brought the crowd to its feet, but by the end of the match, the Capitals’ relentless pressure had worn them down, winning by four.

The final buzzer sounded, and a wave of disappointment washed over the home crowd. The players from both teams glided to the center of the field, exchanging tired fist-bumps before heading off to their respective locker rooms.

We hung around for a bit, finishing our drinks and dissecting the game. A few minutes later, my data-slate pinged with a notification. It was a message from Kaelis.

Kaelis> Oh, um, meet me at the player's entrance in 20 mins?

I quickly typed back a reply.

Sten> Great, see you then!

I showed the message to the girls. Tian let out a small, triumphant “Yes!” and Bria’s face broke into a wide, happy grin.

“Twenty minutes,” Zyl rumbled, ever the practical one. “We should probably stay here in the stands. It’ll be easier to get out once the crowd thins.”

We settled back into our seats, the stadium slowly emptying around us. The post-game cleanup crews were already moving through the stands, their robotic cleaners humming as they swept up discarded food containers and drink cups.

The girls, however, were not content to sit in silence. “So,” Tian began, her voice full of a barely contained, buzzing energy. “How do you know Kaelis?”

I just shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. “We’ve run into each other a couple of times.”

“Where?” Tian pressed, her curiosity a palpable thing.

“Just… around,” I said, deliberately vague.

“At the pub?” Bria asked, her voice soft but her eyes sharp.

I just hummed a noncommittal, but positive-sounding, noise. How could I explain? ‘Oh, I met her at a kink munch where she tried to become my meat-mummy, then she stalked me home. A week later, I finger-banged her till she cried, then we spooned all night.’ I didn’t think that would go over well.

They kept at it, a relentless, three-pronged attack of pestering questions and wild speculation. Was she a friend of a friend? Did we meet at a work thing? Was she secretly a fan of human men and had sought me out? Did I meet her on Pursuit? I laughed at that one. I deflected each question with a vague non-answer, my evasiveness only seeming to fuel their curiosity.

Finally, Bria, in a moment of surprising, quiet insight, cut through all the noise. “Is she the girl you kissed?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but it landed with the force of a physical blow.

The pestering stopped. The question hung in the sudden silence, sharp and unavoidable. I looked from Bria’s wide, vulnerable eyes to Tian’s uncertain grin, and then to Zyl’s quiet gaze. The air was thick with a sudden, heavy tension.

I looked at Bria, at her wide, hopeful, and now slightly hurt, amber eyes. I couldn’t lie to her. “Yeah,” I said, my voice quiet. “She is.”

Those words landed like a stone. Tian’s boisterous energy vanished, her tail, which had been thumping with excitement, went rigid. Zyl’s gaze flickered to Bria, concern in her steady eyes. But it was Bria who looked the most stricken, her shoulders hunching as if she’d been physically struck.

We waited out the rest of the time in a heavy, awkward silence, the easy camaraderie of the evening shattered. Finally, Zyl stood up. “It’s time,” she said.

We made our way down through the now-empty stands, our footsteps echoing in the vast, quiet space. We walked in a loose, disconnected group, a stark contrast to the easy closeness of only a few minutes before. We found the players’ entrance, the same one Tian had disappeared into hours ago, and waited.

A few minutes later, a door slid open and the Vors Vipers emerged in a group, their shoulders slumped in defeat. The mood was somber, the silence of the vanquished hanging heavy in the air. They were all dressed in matching team tracksuits, but the thin, synthetic fabric offered little protection against the biting night air for Kaelis, who stood shivering slightly, a lone splash of purple in a sea of thick Rakiri fur.

A moment later, the door opened again, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. The Capitals strode out, a wave of loud, boisterous energy. They were full of the swagger of champions, their laughter echoing in the quiet of the player’s entrance. They spotted Kaelis immediately, their eyes locking onto her like predators who had just found their wounded prey.

“Well, well, well,” one of them sneered, a tall Rakiri with a jagged scar across her muzzle. “If it isn’t the star player.”

“Hope your leg’s ok, Kaelis,” another one chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Guess it’s true what they say. Shil just don’t have what it takes to play a real game.”

A third player, a Shil’vati with a cruel smirk, looked Kaelis up and down, her gaze lingering on her chest. “Still rocking those training bras, I see. You ever going to grow a real pair?”

The first Rakiri laughed, a harsh, barking sound. “Give her a break. She’s too busy trying to find a boyfriend in this backwater shithole. How’s that going, Kaelis? Heard even the stiffies are rejecting you.”

The Shil’vati player scoffed. “She was so quick tonight, though. Are you still quick every night, Kaelis? Is that why you can’t keep a man?”

The scarred Rakiri took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, venomous growl. “No man is ever going to settle for a crippled clam like you.”

Kaelis just stood there, frozen. Her shoulders hunched inward as if to ward off the verbal blows, her head bowed slightly, her gaze fixed on the plascrete floor. I saw her throat work as she swallowed hard, a single, difficult motion. The vibrant purple of her skin seemed to pale, turning a dull, ashen shade under the harsh stadium lights. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, her knuckles white. She was trying to make herself small, to disappear. But there was nowhere to hide.

Beside me, the girls were a study in silent, escalating horror. Tian’s usual boisterous energy was gone, frozen into a mask of disbelief. Bria looked like she was going to be sick, her hand clamped over her mouth, her amber eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a deep, painful empathy. Zyl’s calm had been replaced by a cold, watchful stillness, her arm moving to wrap protectively around Bria’s shoulders. They were all utterly stunned by the raw viciousness of the verbal assault.

When Kaelis finally risked a glance upwards she caught sight of me, and the girls. Her golden eyes were already wide with humiliation, but now they filled with horror.

Something inside me snapped. “Just wait here a second,” I said to them, my voice low and calm. I jogged the few steps over to Kaelis.

I reached up, my hands cupping her face, and gently nudged her head down towards mine. It wasn’t a demand, just an invitation. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her golden eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a desperate, fragile hope. Then, she leaned in, her lips parting slightly, expecting a quick, comforting peck.

I gave her no such thing. The moment our lips met, I felt a jolt run through her, a tremor of pure shock. But I didn’t pull back. Instead, I deepened the kiss, a clear statement to anyone watching. It wasn’t gentle; it was a claiming. My mouth was hot and firm on hers, and after a heartbeat of stunned stillness, she answered with a fire of her own, her lips parting as my tongue pushed past them in a confident invasion that sought to devour her.

Kaelis’s body went rigid with shock at the sudden onslaught, a small, surprised squeak escaping her throat. But the stiffness lasted only a moment. Then, she melted into me, a desperate, answering passion rising to meet my own. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer, her body pressing against mine as if she were seeking refuge from the storm of hatred swirling around us.

The jeers and taunts of the Capitals players died in their throats, replaced by stunned silence.

I let the kiss linger for a long, charged moment, a silent declaration to everyone watching. When I finally pulled away, we were both breathless. I kept one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her into my side. I looked over at her former teammates, my expression a cold, hard challenge. Then I turned my attention back to Kaelis and the girls, my voice deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear. “Come on, babe,” I said, my tone light but possessive. “You’ve got some fans who are dying to meet you.”

When I looked back at the girls, their expressions had shifted into a complex tableau. Zyl’s tail gave a single, slow sweep of approval, her green eyes full of quiet understanding. Tian stood frozen, her own tail puffed out in shock, her face unreadable as her hero-worship and crush collided. And Bria… Bria’s tail was curled tightly under her, her amber eyes fixed on us with a raw, undisguised longing that was almost painful to see.

I kept my arm firmly around Kaelis’s waist, a silent and unyielding support, and guided her over to where my team was standing. The Capitals players were still standing there, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief, but they said nothing.

“Kaelis, this is Zyl, Bria, and Tian,” I said, my voice a little too loud in the sudden quiet, nodding to each of them in turn. “Girls, this is Kaelis.”

The air was thick with a thousand unasked questions. Before anyone could break the fragile silence, I spoke again, my tone deliberately light. “Is there a cafe or a pub or something nearby? I sure could use a drink.”

Kaelis, who had been leaning into me, her body a warm, trembling weight, seemed to pull herself together. “There’s a cafe just around the corner,” she said, her voice a little shaky but clear. “They have a bar, too.”

“Great,” I said, a little too enthusiastically. I gave Kaelis’s waist a gentle squeeze and started walking, effectively dragging her, and by extension, the rest of the group, with me. The last thing I wanted was to have this conversation in the cold, echoing player’s entrance of a stadium.

As we walked, an awkward formation fell into place. I kept a supportive arm around Kaelis, Tian walked on my other side. Bria and Zyl trailed a few steps behind, a silent, uncertain pair.

It was Tian, her hero-worship apparently overriding her shock, who broke the silence. “That move in the second quarter,” she began, her voice full of an almost reverent awe, “where you faked the pass and then spun around the defender? That was incredible! I’ve never seen anyone pull that off in a live game.”

Kaelis was limping slightly, the adrenaline of the game clearly wearing off, but a small, genuine smile touched her lips at Tian’s praise.

Tian, now fully in her element, continued to pepper Kaelis with questions about specific plays, her own experience as a player giving her a deep appreciation for the nuances of Kaelis’s performance. The conversation flowed, a welcome distraction from the heavy, unspoken questions that still hung in the air.

Finally, as we rounded the corner, Tian’s curiosity got the better of her. “So,” she said, her voice casual but her eyes sharp. “How did you two actually meet?”

I interrupted her, pointing a little further down the street. “Oh hey, is that the cafe there?” Without waiting for an answer, I picked up the pace, a man on a mission.

The cafe, ‘The Glass Perch’, was a welcome sight. It was a sturdy wooden building, but the entire front was a single, massive pane of glass, giving it an open, den-like feel. Inside, the air was thick with the rich smell of recaf, roasting meat, and warm spices. The furniture was all heavy, dark wood, built to Rakiri scale.

A few other fans were scattered around, nursing post-game drinks, but the place was mostly empty, and we easily found a large table in the corner.

Kaelis got a few side-eyes as we walked past, her Vipers tracksuit a clear identifier. She ignored them, sliding into the booth with a weary grace.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I announced. I walked off before they could offer a response and just made a beeline for the bar. I ordered 5 Red-Grains, and then, on an impulse that felt more like a necessity, a shot of that dark, smoky spirit I’d had before. I still couldn’t remember the name of it, but the Rakiri bartender just nodded, a knowing look in her eyes as she poured the liquid courage.

As I waited for the bartender, the sound of the cafe faded and a knot of anxiety tightened in my gut. This was terrible. It was worse than running into last night’s date with tonight’s date on your arm; this was running into last night’s date with the three girls you were hoping would become tomorrow’s dates.

I returned to the table a few minutes later, carefully balancing the drinks. I set them down, sliding the shot glass in front of my own drink, and was met with four pairs of eyes that were a mixture of exasperation and annoyance.

Tian opened her mouth, probably to give me a piece of her mind, but Kaelis beat her. “You always try and pull this,” her voice a low, tired accusation. There was a flicker of a smile on Tian’s lips, and her expression softened. A new, shared understanding seemed to pass between them, their annoyance at me some small unifying force.

I picked up the spirits glass, the dark, smoky liquid catching the light. I downed it in one smooth motion, the fiery warmth spreading through my chest. I pushed the empty glass to the center of the table and took a long, slow sip of my Red-Grain, the sweet, berry-ish tang a stark contrast to the spirit’s harsh burn.

The four of them were just watching me, their expressions a mixture of confusion and a tense, fragile uncertainty. The silence was a heavy, suffocating blanket. I had to say something, to break the tension before it shattered us all.

I took another sip of my drink, a wry, self-deprecating smirk touching my lips. “Hi,” I said, my voice a little rough. “My name is Sten Pallisen, and I’m a douchebag.”

They just stared at me, their confusion deepening.

“Sorry,” I said with a small, tired sigh. “Dumb humor. It’s how I deal with stress.” I looked at each of them in turn, my gaze steady and serious.

I started with Kaelis, my hand gesturing towards her. “This is Kaelis. I met her on my first full day on Dirt, at a social thing at a pub. Then… some stuff happened. And now we’re… something. I don’t really know. But we’ve kissed, and… stuff.”

At the word ‘stuff’, Bria flinched, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but I saw it. Her amber eyes, which had been fixed on me, dropped to her hands, now clenched tightly in her lap.

I turned my attention to the other side of the table. “Kaelis, this is Bria, Zyl, and Tian. We work together. And we’ve been hanging out after work. And we’re… something? or want to be something? I’ve hugged them, and they walk me home.”

Before any of them could react, before the storm of questions and accusations I was bracing for could break, I held up a hand. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of guilt and fear. “I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say here,” I stammered, my voice cracking. “I think… sorry?”

Kaelis looked between the three Rakiri and me, a flicker of her earlier insecurity returning. Tian’s jaw had gone slack, her boisterous confidence momentarily short-circuited. Bria seemed to shrink into the booth, while Zyl just tilted her head, her expression one of calm, analytical confusion. They looked at each other, then back at me, as if trying to decipher a language they’d never heard before.

It was Zyl who finally broke the silence, her deep voice laced with a genuine confusion. “Why are you sorry, Sten?”

“Because I’m… I’m trying to date four different girls at once?” I said, the words sounding even more ridiculous when I said them out loud. The silence that followed sat heavy on the table for a long moment.

Bria looked up from her hands, her amber eyes locking onto mine. “Do you want to date?” she asked, her voice soft but direct, cutting through all my self-flagellation.

The question hung in the air, simple and profound. All four of them leaned forward slightly, their full, undivided attention fixed on me.

“Well… yeah,” I admitted, my voice quiet and uncertain.

“All of us?” Tian asked, her own voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” I said, resignation washing over me. “And that’s what makes me a fuckboi. A player. I don’t want to hurt any of you and this is how you hurt people.”

Kaelis, who had been silent until now, her expression a mask of unreadable emotions, finally spoke. “How would you hurt anyone?” she asked, her voice a quiet, genuine question that seemed to echo in the sudden stillness of the cafe.

I didn’t answer… I just gestured… In my head, I could already hear the script: the accusations, the tears, the inevitable, soul-crushing ultimatum - ‘You have to choose, Sten.’ I didn’t want to summon the pain I knew was coming, the inevitable moment when they would make me choose, when one or more of them would be hurt. My stomach twisted into a knot. I braced myself for the explosion, the anger, the tears. I doubted I’d get out of this with any friends left, let alone a girlfriend. Good work, Sten. Great start to your new life on Dirt.

I sat there, staring down at my hands, one clutching the other so tightly my knuckles were white. I couldn’t bring myself to look at them, to see the hurt and anger I was sure was directed at me. I just waited for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations to start flying.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Tian spoke, her voice breaking the tension. “Oh, wait,” she said, a note of dawning realization in her tone. “Is this a weird human thing?”

Her question was so unexpected it startled me. I looked up, my own confusion overriding my guilt. All four of them were looking at me, not with anger, but with a genuine, deep-seated concern.

“Huh?” I managed, the single syllable a testament to my brilliance.

“What’s a fuckboi?” Zyl asked, her brow furrowed in a way that was both analytical and endearingly earnest. “Is that like a stif…” she broke off, a flicker of embarrassment in her green eyes.

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, well… it’s… it’s a man who dates multiple women at the same time, but he’s not honest about it. He tells each of them that they’re the only one, that he’s serious about them. Then, when they inevitably find out about each other, there’s a lot of hurt, and jealousy, and anger.” I sighed, the weight of my own choices settling heavily on my shoulders.

Tian barked a laugh, a sharp, loud sound that made me jump. Kaelis shook her head, a look of profound relief washing over her features as if a great weight had been lifted, while Zyl just smirked, a knowing look in her green eyes.

It was Bria who spoke, her voice soft but firm, a quiet authority in her tone. “But… you have been honest with us, Sten. You’ve brought us all here, together. Besides,” she said, a small, shy smile touching her lips, “how do you think packs are formed? A group of women get together, pick a guy, and decide… this one!”

I just shrugged and gestured to Zyl, Tian, and Bria. Tian laughed again, louder this time.

Bria sighed, a small, put-upon sound. “Well, yes, that can happen,” she admitted. “But it’s more complicated. A man can date other women, even if he’s with someone. Sometimes the pack goes with him to check her out. Sometimes, in more ‘traditional’ packs, the alpha just decides.”

My brain felt like it had short-circuited. The sounds of the cafe seemed to fade into a dull, distant roar, trying to process this massive, fundamental cultural difference. The girls, seeing my stunned silence, seemed to relax, the tension that had filled the booth completely evaporating. They started sipping their Red-Grains, the conversation picking up again as if nothing had happened.

Zyl grimaced at her drink. “Red-Grain is fine for the stadium, I guess,” she rumbled, her voice full of a playful, teasing warmth. “They don’t have much else. But in a proper pack-run joint like this? They have real drinks. Next time you insist on being all hu-man-ish and buying a round, Sten, can you get me an Amber-Gold?” Tian and Bria both nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

Tian then turned to Kaelis, her earlier hero-worship returning in full force. “So,” she said, her voice full of a conspiratorial glee, “how did you two really meet?”

Kaelis shifted, her body tensing. “Well, it was at an AltSo meetup,” she began, the words coming out in a rush as a faint blue blush crept up her neck. At the blank looks from the Rakiri, she elaborated. “It’s a social club for people with… alternative, sometimes kinky lifestyles.”

Tian leaned across the table, her voice dropping to a loud, conspiratorial whisper that carried across the quiet table. “You met at a kinky sex party? Sten!”

“No!” Kaelis exclaimed, her hands flying up in a defensive gesture as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of blue. “It’s not a sex party! It was in a pub. It’s totally casual. Not even any ropes or collars.”

Tian pouted, her bottom lip pushing out in a theatrical display of disappointment. “Still,” she said, winking, “I didn’t realize you were kinky, Sten!”

Bria however, bit her lip and went very still. Her tail, which had been still, gave a single, slow sweep under the table. Her amber eyes took on a new, speculative light as she looked at me.

I was still reeling, my mind a chaotic jumble of conflicting cultural norms and emotional whiplash. I didn’t understand what was going on.

Kaelis then went on to tell them about ‘escorting’ me home, and how I’d caught her. Tian just laughed. “Good on you,” she said, shaking her head. “And yeah, he’s a bit of an idiot. When we work late, he always just walks home by himself. Usually, Zyl follows him to make sure he gets home after dark.”

I interrupted, my head snapping towards Zyl. “You’ve been following me? I’ve never seen you!”

Zyl just smirked at me, taking another long, slow sip of her drink.

Kaelis then turned to the Rakiri girls, her earlier shyness returning. “So… how did you all meet Sten?”

I interrupted before they could answer. “Wait, are you not all mad at me?”

Zyl scoffed. “No.”

Bria spoke up, her voice soft but firm. “Are we ‘dating’ now? All of us?”

I looked at her, at the quiet hope in her amber eyes, and then at the others. “Yes,” I said, my voice quiet but certain. “If you want to.”

A wave of palpable relief and excitement washed over the table. Tian and Kaelis, who were sitting closest to me, both scooched their chairs toward me, their bodies pressing against mine.

“So, you were saying?” Kaelis prompted, turning back to Tian.

“Oh, right!” Tian said, her grin wide and triumphant. “Well, we all work together…” She launched into an animated retelling of our first few weeks as a team, with Bria occasionally interjecting to correct a detail or add a quiet observation.

“…and then he told us a story about pooping in a field!” Bria finished, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Kaelis looked at me, her expression a perfect picture of shock. “What?”

And so, Tian, Zyl, and Bria, in a chaotic, overlapping chorus, recounted the tale of my embarrassing moment. I just sat there, a small, resigned smile on my face, and drank my Red-Grain. My arm slipped around Kaelis’s waist, pulling her in close.

After the laughter from my story died down, the conversation drifted to past dating experiences. “You know,” Tian said, a thoughtful look on her face as she turned to me. “You always just want to go to the pub. Most of the guys I’ve heard about wanted to go to some fancy restaurant, show off a bit.”

Kaelis spoke up then, her voice a soft, shy murmur against my shoulder. “He cooked for me once.”

The effect was instantaneous. The three Rakiri girls turned as one, their full attention suddenly fixed on Kaelis, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and intense curiosity. “He what?” Tian breathed.

Kaelis recounted the meal - ground turox in a rich tormak sauce over baked kresh tubers. “It was… different,” she said, her voice soft and a little dreamy. “But it was really good.” She paused, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “I just watched him cook. He was so… It was… nice.” She shifted in her seat, unconsciously clenching her thighs together under the table.

The three Rakiri girls turned to look at me, their expressions a mixture of awe and something else… a new, speculative hunger. “Please can you cook for us sometime?” Tian whined, her voice full of a desperate, hopeful plea.

I just shrugged, “Sure.” I liked cooking, and I liked them. Why wouldn’t I?

“Did he just invite you over for dinner?” Bria asked Kaelis, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper.

Kaelis shook her head. “No, we’d spent the day going to open houses.” She turned to the others, her voice rising with a note of indignation. “He was just going to go by himself! Without anyone!”

Zyl’s expression hardened, a flicker of anger in her green eyes. She pulled out her data-slate, her movements sharp and decisive. “Right, that’s it,” she announced, her voice a low, non-negotiable rumble. “We’re all sharing contacts. We need to make sure he’s not wandering around alone like a lost puppy anymore.”

Kaelis nodded in fervent agreement, and all four of them pulled out their slates, a series of quick chimes confirming the data transfer.

“Hey,” I objected, my voice a weak protest. “I’m right here.”

Zyl looked up from her slate, her gaze pinning me to my seat. “Yes,” she growled, her voice a low, proprietary sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “You are.”

I decided right then that I needed another drink. Because I was thirsty, and for no other reason. The girls finished swapping details, their heads bent together in a sudden, intense conspiracy. I watched them, a strange warmth spreading through my chest.

“You were awesome out there tonight, Kaelis,” I said, breaking their huddle. The other girls immediately chimed in, a chorus of agreement and praise for her performance. They carefully avoided talking about what happened after the game, but Tian couldn’t resist. “Your old teammates seem like real cunts,” she muttered, her voice a low growl.

Kaelis’s face blushed blue at the praise, and again at the mention of her old team. I gave her a reassuring squeeze. She winced, a small, sharp intake of breath.

My smile vanished, replaced by a look of concern as I remembered more about the game. “Oh, how are you? How’s your leg? You had a rough game,” I asked, my voice soft.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly. She saw the look on my face and she faltered. “Oh… but… maybe you should check me all over to make sure?” she added, her voice a hopeful, small voice.

The three Rakiri girls just grinned.

The rest of the evening passed in an easy, comfortable haze. Eventually, the cafe started to empty, and we decided it was time to head home. We all piled into an auto-ground-car, the mood light and cheerful. The girls, in a unified front, insisted that I be dropped off first.

As the car purred to a stop outside my apartment building, I turned to Kaelis, a slow, teasing smirk on my face. “So,” I said, my voice a low, deliberate purr. “Are you going to come in and let me check you all over?”

A deep, vibrant blue blush flooded Kaelis’s cheeks, but she didn’t hesitate. She just nodded, a small, shy smile on her lips, and got out of the car.

“Hey!” Tian’s voice, full of a playful, indignant heat, cut through the quiet of the car. “It had better be my turn soon! I got hurt playing tonight, too!”

⸻

Chapter 9 - Good Girl

The apartment door clicked shut behind us. The air inside the apartment was still and warm, quiet. A stark contrast to the sound of the stadium and the cold of the night. Kaelis stood in the small entryway, buzzing with a nervous, excited energy. Her golden eyes were fixed on me, focused, like she was trying to see into my soul.

I shrugged off my hoodie, letting it fall onto the back of the couch, and kicked off my boots. Kaelis mirrored the motion, shrugging out of her Vipers team jacket and letting it drop to the floor. She stood there in her simple team T-shirt and track pants, looking smaller and yet still towering over me. We just looked at each other for a long moment, the tension echoing in the space between us.

I closed the distance, my hands coming up to cup her face. She leaned into my touch, a small, contented sigh escaping her lips. I kissed her. It was nothing like the desperate, public claiming at the stadium. This was slow, and deep, and full of a thousand unsaid things. She melted into it, her body going soft and pliant in my arms. A silent surrender.

Her hands came up, hovering uncertainly near my shoulders, her fingers fluttering as if she were afraid to touch me. I felt the hesitation, the fear that still lingered under the surface. I pulled back, just enough to look into her wide, questioning eyes. “It’s okay,” I murmured, my voice a low, reassuring rumble. “You can touch me.”

Slowly, hesitantly, her hands came to rest on my shoulders. They drifted down to my chest, her touch so tentative it was almost a question, as if she was half-convinced this was a dream. Her long, slender fingers spread out, charting the unfamiliar terrain. I felt a slight tremor in her touch as she explored my chest through the fabric of my shirt. She traced the sharp line of my collarbone, her touch feather-light and cool against my skin. Her palm came to rest over my heart, pressing flat as if to confirm the steady, thudding rhythm was real. A look of pure, unadulterated wonder washed over her face. Her lips parted slightly, her golden eyes wide with a focused intensity that was equal parts curiosity and desire. In that moment, the fierce Grav-Ball champion had vanished.

I took a small step back, breaking the contact. She let me go, a flicker of uncertainty in her wide, golden eyes. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the floor.

Kaelis’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound in the quiet room. Her eyes, which had been full of a soft wonder, were now wide with an almost primal captivation. It was the look of a teenage boy seeing a pair of breasts in the flesh for the very first time – a mixture of awe and disbelief. And an all-consuming, single-minded focus.

Her hand came up, reaching out unconsciously, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered in the air between us. “Go on,” I said, my voice low. “Touch me. I want you to.” That was all the permission she needed. Her hand closed the distance, her palm pressing flat against my bare skin. She explored my chest with a reverent curiosity, her fingers tracing the definition of my pecs, the curve of my ribs, the dip of my sternum. Her touch was electric, not because of what it did to me, but because of what it was so clearly doing to her.

Her breath grew heavy, her pupils dilating until her golden eyes were almost black. Her legs squirmed, thighs pressing against each other. A restless, involuntary movement as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers found my nipple, pinching and twisting the small nub of flesh. A sharp, involuntary grunt escaped my lips. The touch itself did little for me, but her reaction, the way a low moan rumbled in her chest at my sound… It sent a jolt of pure unadulterated lust straight to my groin.

I reached out, my own hands finding her waist. “I want to see you,” I said, my voice a low rough whisper.

Kaelis froze, her own hands stilling on my chest. A look of pure confusion washed over her face, her brow furrowing as she tried to process my words. “See me?” she repeated, her voice a breath of sound.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the confusion vanished, replaced by a sudden, explosive energy. She tore herself away from me, and in a whirlwind of motion her clothes were flying. Her T-shirt landed on the back of the couch, her track pants hit the kitchen counter with a soft thud, and her underwear sailed through the air to land draped over one of the bar stools.

She stood before me, completely naked. Her body a testament to a life of athletic discipline. She was a creature of lean lines and coiled strength, her frame defined by taut, corded muscle rather than voluptuousness.

Her dark hair was styled in a punk-inspired undercut with a short high ponytail flopping to one side, framing a face where fear of my judgment warred with the lust in her captivating golden eyes.

My eyes drank in the details: her small, conical breasts, with nipples already rock-hard points against her purple skin; the smooth, defined landscape of her six-pack; the lean lines of coiled strength that ran down her taut legs, where the gap between her thighs revealed a glistening sheen of wetness that betrayed her arousal.

A deep blue blush flooded her cheeks, but she didn’t try to cover herself. She didn’t look away. Her gaze, however, wasn’t on my face, or my groin. It was fixed, with that same single-minded intensity, on my chest.

I surged forward closing the distance between us. Her mouth crashed down on mine, and I responded not with gentle exploration, but with a consuming hunger as I pressed my bare chest against her. Her hardened nipples were twin points pressing into my skin, a low guttural moan vibrated from her chest into my mouth as I shifted against them.

My arms wrapped around her, my hands sliding down to find the powerful curve of her ass. I gripped her, my fingers digging into the dense muscle beneath her skin, anchoring her to me. A guttural groan tore from her chest as she arched into me, her own hands running over my back, exploring the muscles of my shoulders and the line of my spine.

I broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her wide, lust-filled eyes. “Do you want me to touch you again? I want to make you cum.” I asked, my voice a low, rough whisper.

A guttural groan of longing and shame tore from her throat. “Yes,” she breathed, the word a desperate prayer.

That was all I needed to hear. I took a step back, my hands finding her shoulders, and gently but firmly pushed her backwards, out of the small entryway and towards the bedroom. She stumbled, her eyes never leaving mine, a mask of pure, unadulterated lust. She let me guide her, her taller body pliant and willing under my touch.

I pushed her back into the bedroom, the momentum carrying her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She collapsed onto the mattress, a tangle of long limbs and purple skin. She landed on her back, her legs falling open in a lewd, unconscious invitation, her quim on full display. Wet, engorged and glistening in the dim light of the room.

I stood at the foot of the bed, my own breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. “Do you want me to take off my pants?” I asked, my voice a low, deliberate rumble.

“Yes,” she whispered, her gaze dropping from my face to the prominent bulge in my jeans.

“Ask,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “Say please.”

“P-please,” she stuttered, her voice a broken thing. “Please, Sten. Please take off your pants. I want to see… you.”

I didn’t rush. I watched her eyes track every movement as I unbuckled my belt, the sound loud in the quiet room. Her lips parted on a silent gasp as I pushed my jeans and boxers down in one slow, smooth motion, stepping out of them. She bit her lip, her eyes locked on my erection, hard and ready for her. A low whimper escaped her lips, and she started to move, to push herself up, to come to me.

“Stop,” I commanded, my voice sharp and absolute. She froze, her eyes wide with confusion and a little fear.

“This is what you do to me. I’m hard for you Kaelis. I want to fuck you.” I told her. I could see her expression change to a mixture of shock and pride at my admission.

“And I’m going to fuck you Kaelis. But, before I do… I’m going to get onto the bed,” I said. My voice a low, deliberate promise that hung heavy in the air between us. “I’m going to crawl between your legs, and I’m going to eat you out. I am going to make you cum, again and again. And when you’re begging, when I’ve decide you’re ready, then I’m going to fuck you.”

I let the words hang in the air, watching as a fresh wave of arousal washed over her. I saw the longing in her eyes, the raw desire for what I had promised. Her gaze was fixed on my cock, a single-minded focus that was as intoxicating as any touch. Her thighs shivered, instinctually clenching.

“You Kaelis, are going to move back,” I ordered her. My voice a commanding growl. “And grip the headboard with your hands. If you let go of that headboard, I will stop. And that’s it. No more tonight, for either of us. Can you see how hard I am, Kaelis? How much I want to fuck you? How much I want to fill you?”

Kaelis nodded, a single, jerky movement, her thighs squirming as she tried to contain the desperate, writhing need that was coiling in her gut. “I really want to fuck you Kaelis, I need to fuck you.” A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. “Will you let go, Kaelis?”

She shook her head, a sharp motion. Her eyes, which had been darting between my face and my cock, were now fixed on mine, a raw longing in their golden depths. Her hands reached up, and gripped the headboard. Locking into place like her life depended on it. Her tongue snaked out, wetting her lips in a slow, deliberate motion that was an invitation.

I crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I moved between her legs, my knees sinking into the soft bedding. I started at her knees, my lips pressing soft, deliberate kisses against her smooth, purple skin. I moved slowly, deliberately, up the inside of her thighs, my beard rough, a teasing counterpoint to the softness of my lips. Her whole body tensed, a low whimper escaping her as I drew closer to her core.

I paused, my face just inches from her soaking wet pussy. I blew a soft, gentle breath across her clit. Her reaction was instantaneous and electric. A sharp, strangled cry tore from her throat, and her hips bucked, trying to meet the source of the sensation.

I chuckled, a low, rough sound. I moved in closer, rubbing my beard against her core, the coarse hair a delightful torment against her exquisitely sensitive flesh. She shuddered, a series of violent tremors running through her, her whimpers turning into a breathless mantra of pleading.

Finally, I ran my tongue up the length of one of her swollen labia, over the hard nub of her clit, and down the other side in one long, slow, deliberate motion.

That was all it took. Her body went rigid, a bowstring pulled taut. A strangled cry escaped her lips as a gush of fluid soaked the sheets beneath her, her body convulsing in a powerful, all-consuming orgasm.

But I didn’t stop. As the waves of her climax began to subside, I redoubled my efforts. My hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as she squirmed against the mattress. I was relentless, a force of nature against which she had no defense. I feasted on her, my tongue softly lapping at her, soothing the over-sensitized flesh before flicking the hard tip against her clit again and again. The headboard creaked under the strain as her hands, locked in a death grip pulling against it. My tongue and lips were a merciless assault on her senses, even as her body writhed and twisted under my touch. She whimpered, she moaned, she gasped, and she begged. Her pleas lost in the rising tide of her own pleasure.

I pulled away, my face slick with her juices, my beard wet and matted. Kaelis slumped against the mattress, a shivering, panting mess. A single, choked sob escaped her lips. Lost in her ragged breaths, her hands still locked in their death grip on the headboard. I moved up her body, pulling her limp knees up and pushing myself between her legs. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, her face flushed a deep, vibrant blue from the exertion. “Please, Sten,” she whispered, the words a soft, breathless litany. “Please, please, please, Sten, please.”

I pulled her hips up, positioning the head of my cock against her wet, waiting entrance. And pushed forward, and she let out a long, wanton moan as I slid inside her. Her eyes, which had been glazed over, snapped into focus, locking onto mine. I thrust myself deep, burying myself to the hilt, and she groaned, her shaking legs trying and limply wraping around my waist.

I started to rut into her, hard and fast, my pubic bone grinding against her still-sensitive clit with every thrust. She bucked against me, an uncoordinated movement, her elbows trying to reach for me, to hold me, but her hands refused to release their grip on the headboard.

“Let go, Kaelis,” I grunted, my voice a low, rough command. “You’ve been a good girl for me. Let go. Hold me. You’re mine.”

As if my words had broken a spell, she released her death-hold on the headboard. A raw, broken cry of my name tore from her lips as her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs locked around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. Her hands, freed from their prison, were a frantic exploration, her nails digging into my back as she tried to pull me deeper inside her. She was a storm of unleashed passion, her body moving with mine in a frantic rhythm, her voice a litany of moans and whispered pleas against my skin.

The friction of her slick heat against me, the furnace of her body. The raw uninhibited sounds she was making, of gasps and broken whimpers, were overwhelming. I was lost in it, my control shattering as every rational thought was burned away. My body moved on pure instinct, a desperate, driving rhythm. I groaned into her ear, a low, guttural sound of pure, unrestrained release as I came deep inside her. The final shuddering wave of pleasure a violent, all-consuming force.

I’m not sure she ever stopped cumming, but my climax triggered something more. Her back arched off the bed, her body seizing as a high, keening moan tore from her throat. “Oh, Goddess,” she cried out, a cry torn between ecstasy and a fragile hope. “Sten, I love you!”

I held her tight, her body still shuddering with the aftershocks of release. I kept myself buried deep inside her, letting our heartbeats slow together in the quiet aftermath, kissing the soft, trembling skin of her neck.

The words she said in the throes of passion echoed in the sudden panting quiet. I wasn’t sure if she’d even remember saying them later, but in the moment, tangled together in the ruins of her control, they were a fragile and terrifying thing.

Finally, the storm passed. Our bodies, slick with cooling sweat and the scent of our release, relaxed. I slumped onto the bed beside her, pulling her into my arms, my body a gentle, protective anchor for hers. She lay there, limp and boneless, her body still trembling, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

I pulled her head onto my chest, my lips brushing against her hair. “Hey,” I whispered, my voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re amazing. You’re my good girl.”

Kaelis wrapped her arms around my chest, her grip surprisingly tight, as if she were afraid I might vanish into thin air. “I’m not going anywhere,” I continued to whisper, my voice a low, steady rumble against her ear. “You’re staying here. With me.”

We lay like that for a long time, the only sound in the room the soft, shuddering breaths that wracked her body. Eventually, the tremors subsided, and she relaxed in my arms, her grip loosening. She pulled back slightly, drying her eyes with the back of her hand.

I pulled her up, my hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at me. My own face was still covered in the drying evidence of her pleasure. “I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice a soft echo of my words from days past.

A small, watery smile touched her lips, and she nodded. I kissed her, not with the fiery passion of before, but with a gentle tenderness, reveling in the simple, perfect feel of her lips on mine.

Finally, I pulled away. “I’m just going to go wash my face,” I said, my voice a little rough. “And make some tea. Would you like some? Or maybe some water?”

“I’m so sorry about your face,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing a deep blue.

I stopped her, my thumb gently stroking her cheek. “No,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, intense purr. “I love this. I love your body, the way it reacts, the way you come… it’s so hot. Every orgasm you have is a victory. I want to make your brains leak out of your ears. Tomorrow, when you’re at training, I want you to ruin your panties just thinking about what I’m going to do to you, again, and again, and again. And I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.” Her gaze flickered down to my groin, where my sticky half-erection was proof of my words.

She blushed, her gaze dropping to the sheets. I got off the bed, not bothering to get dressed, and went to the bathroom. I washed my face and beard, drying them off before heading to the kitchen to make tea and get a glass of water.

When I walked back into the bedroom, naked, carrying a glass of water and two steaming mugs, Kaelis was sitting up against the headboard. Her stunning, purple body was on full display, her knees pulled up towards her chest, offering me an unobstructed view of her swollen, well-used self. Her gaze roamed over my body, a slow, deliberate appraisal that was worlds away from her earlier shyness. Her breath hitched, and I saw her pupils dilate.

I set the water on the bedside table and handed her one of the mugs, then sat cross-legged on the bed, facing her.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked, my voice a soft, gentle rumble.

A long, slow, shuddering sigh escaped her. “Yessssssss,” she breathed, the word full of a bone-deep satisfaction.

“I want to do that again,” I said, a grin touching my lips.

“Again?” she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Now?”

I laughed, a warm, easy sound. “Well, in a little bit.” I waited a moment, letting the comfortable silence settle between us as we both sipped our tea. I reached out and took her free hand in mine, my thumb gently stroking the back of her knuckles.

“Were your old teammates making fun of how fast you cum?” I asked, my voice gentle and deliberately casual.

The change was instantaneous. The soft, post-coital glow vanished. She looked down, her gaze fixed on the rumpled sheets and tried to pull her hand away. I held on, my grip gentle but firm. A silent refusal to let her retreat.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said, my voice still soft, reassuring. “But you’re mine. I meant what I said. What I just felt… that was perfect.”

I waited, my thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. I sipped my tea, the silence in the room was heavy, a fragile thing. I didn’t push, didn’t pressure her. I just gave her the space to find her words. If she wanted to.

Finally, she spoke, her voice a low, tremulous whisper. “I’ve… I’ve always been bad with boys. With men.” She took a shaky breath, her gaze still fixed on the rumpled sheets. “After a while, my old teammates… they set me up with one of their brothers.”

She paused, swallowing hard. “It’s… it’s unusual for a Shil’vati woman and a Rakiri man to date, but… he was great. I really, really liked him. I thought… I thought I loved him.” Her head snapped up, her golden eyes wide with a sudden, panicked worry as she looked at me.

I just smiled, a soft, encouraging expression, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She relaxed, just a fraction, and continued, her voice dropping back to that pained whisper. “We had… we got intimate. He was… more traditional than you are.” She stopped, blushing. “More passive. After I’d warmed him up, gotten him erect…” Her voice broke, and she had to stop, taking another ragged breath. “Just… just as I sat on him… I came. I seized up after just a few…”

Her face crumpled, the memory a fresh, raw wound. “His face… he looked horrified. He just… pushed me off. He ran out of the room like I was something disgusting.”

Tears started running down her face. Her shoulders hunched. I gripped her hand tightly.

“He told his sister what happened,” she finally managed to choke out. “My teammate. And she… she spread it to the rest of the team.” She went quiet again, the silence thick with her shame.

“And they started bullying you about it?” I asked, my voice a low, gentle prompt.

She just nodded, a single, jerky movement. Then she added, her voice barely audible, “He never came back. He never wanted to see me again. I sent him messages… I tried going to his family’s house… he refused to see me.”

I didn’t say anything. I just took her mug from her trembling hand, and my own, and set them on the bedside table. Then, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my chest, holding her as the silent, shuddering sobs she’d been holding back for so long finally broke free.

I held her, stroking her hair, her back, just being there as she buried her head into my neck.

Her sobs slowly slowed, and after some time, she pulled back, her face a mess, blotchy with tears.

I smiled at her and kissed her again, gently.

“Hey,” I said. “We’re a mess, both of us. Wanna have a shower?”

She looked down at herself, and at me, and laughed, a wet, broken sound. “Yeah.”

“After we’re clean,” I said, my voice soft, “I want to get back in this bed with you. Just be together.”

She looked at me, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “What… what do you want to do? Cuddle? Or… sex?”

I smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes,” I said simply. “Both. Neither. Whatever feels right. We can do whatever we want. Kaelis, I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

The next morning, I woke to the soft, solid weight of Kaelis pressed against me. My back was to her, and her arms were wrapped around my chest, holding me in a gentle but firm embrace. I could feel the soft pressure of her small breasts against my shoulder blades, the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart a reassuring presence in the quiet of the room. I was a lucky man.

My head rested on her arm, while her chin sat on the top of my head. I could feel her slow, even breaths. I lay there for a long moment, savoring the simple, profound intimacy of it all. When I finally moved, a reluctant surrender to the call of my bladder, she sighed, a soft sound, and her arms loosened, letting me go. She leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my bald head.

I turned, rolling onto my back to face her, and kissed her, a slow, deep possessing of her lips.

“Sorry,” I mumbled against her lips. “Did I wake you?”

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “I just wanted to hold you,” she replied, her voice quiet. “To know you’re real.” Her words, so simple, hit me with a surprising force. The idea that I was some kind of anchor for her… it was heavy, and not unwelcome.

I smiled, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. “Give me two moments,” I said, my voice a rough whisper. “I need to pee… and brush my teeth.” I rushed off, not wanting to waste a single second.

When I got back, I jumped onto the bed, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her with a renewed passion, my mouth moving from her mouth to her neck, to the delicate line of her collarbone.

I looked up at her, and felt a fierce, protective tenderness. “I really like it when you hold me,” I said, my voice a low, rough growl. I pressed my erection against her thigh, a silent, emphatic punctuation to my words, and resumed my downward trail of kisses toward those perky, hard nipples I could feel. “Let me show you how real I am…”

⸻

Getting out the door was a frantic, chaotic dance. Showering was a dance of dodging elbows while brushing teeth. Kaelis then had to embark on a scavenger hunt for her clothes, laughing as she found her underwear draped over a bar stool and her T-shirt on the back of the couch.

Somehow, we made it out on time. We both needed to grab something to eat, me on the way to work, and she was heading home for fresh clothes before going to training. But as I stepped out of the building, I was surprised to find Bria waiting for me, shuffling from one foot to the other, her amber eyes wide and a little nervous.

I looked at Kaelis, a question in my eyes. “Did you organize this? Do the girls have a group chat?”

Kaelis just smiled, a slow, secretive expression. She leaned in, gave me a quick, possessive kiss, and then walked off towards her own apartment without a word.

I chuckled, a warm, easy sound, and turned to Bria. “Come on,” I said, gesturing down the street. “We need to go past a bakery or something so I can grab breakfast. We got… distracted.”

Bria couldn’t help herself. As I drew closer, her nose twitched, and she took a small, involuntary sniff of the air between us. Her tail, which had been still with nervousness, gave a sudden, sharp curl of embarrassment as she clearly caught a lingering scent on me.

“I showered!” I protested, a mock indignation in my voice.

Bria just hummed, a low, agreeable sound, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “So, how was your evening?” she asked, her voice soft but with a clear, teasing undertone. She took another deliberate sniff. “And your morning?”

A faint blush crept up my neck. I cleared my throat. “I had a great time,” I said, my voice a little rough. “But for any more details, you’ll have to ask Kaelis.”

Bria’s smile widened. She whipped out her data-slate, her fingers flying across the screen with a surprising speed. I leaned over, trying to get a look at what she was typing, but she quickly angled it away, a mischievous glint in her amber eyes. They definitely have a group chat.

“Bria, I don’t know how this works, with… all of you. But if… When I have a ‘great’ time with you,” I said, my voice dropping a little lower. “It’ll be up to you to share any details.”

Bria’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound in the quiet morning air. Her tail both curled and waved back-and-forth so quickly it was a wonder it didn’t tie itself in a knot. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes wide.

I laughed and pulled her into a hug as we walked down the street, her furry frame a warm, welcome presence against my side. “Come on, let’s find some quick breakfast.”

We found a small, pack-operated bakery tucked away on a side street called ‘The Pack Oven’. The warm smell of fresh pastry and roasting meat, a welcome beacon in the cool morning air. Inside, a Rakiri male stood behind the counter with fur that was a patchwork of grey and white. In the back, through an open doorway, we could see two Rakiri females, their powerful frames moving with a practiced grace as they loaded racks of golden-brown pies into a large, industrial oven. Another female was up front, her back to us, prepping the recaf machine for the morning rush.

I grabbed a meat and vegetable pasty from the heated display, earning a brief, curious glance from the male behind the counter. Bria, without a moment’s hesitation, pointed to a steak and kidney pie.

We ate as we walked, the warm, flaky pastry a welcome comfort against the morning chill. “Can I ask you something?” I said, after swallowing a mouthful of savory filling. “Why do I get weird looks every time I order a meat and vegetable pie or pasty?”

Bria looked at me, a small, amused smile on her face. “Because you’re the only person I’ve ever seen actually buy one,” she said, her voice full of a gentle, teasing warmth. “They’re in every shop, I think it must be law or something. But no Rakiri ever eats them.”

I shrugged, a small, confused laugh escaping me. “The Rakiri diet is pretty meat-heavy, I need a few more veggies than that.” I took another bite of my pasty, a thoughtful look on my face. “But I’ll have to take this into account when I cook for you.”

Bria stopped walking, her amber eyes wide with a sudden, hopeful light. She didn’t say anything, but her tongue darted out, licking a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth in a slow, deliberate motion that was anything but innocent.

I chuckled and pulled her along, my arm still wrapped around her. “I like your tail curls,” I said, my voice a low, teasing murmur. “I like your bashfulness.” I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a soft whisper that I knew her sensitive Rakiri ears would have no trouble hearing. “But I can’t wait to find out what’s behind all of that. What makes you tick… and what makes you mewl.”

Bria took another sharp breath and stopped dead in the street, her free hand grabbing my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. I stopped too, looking at her. She turned, her amber eyes locking onto mine. It was a strange, novel experience to be looked at so directly, at eye level. So many of the women I’d interacted with since arriving on Dirt towered over me. But Bria was my height, and the intensity of her gaze, stripped of any vertical difference, was startlingly direct.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” she said, her voice a low, determined whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

A slow, teasing smirk spread across my face. “Okay,” I said, my own voice a low purr. “But you have to show me the group chat.”

A flicker of frustration crossed her face. “Fuck it,” she muttered, and then she was moving, closing the small distance between us.

Her lips were soft and warm, a stark contrast to the cool morning air. The kiss was hesitant for only a fraction of a second before she couldn’t hold back any longer. Her tongue, long and sinuous, didn’t just meet mine; it thrust into my mouth aggressively. It felt like she was trying to devour me whole. A rough, wet exploration that was startling and intensely arousing. The soft, downy fur of her cheeks brushed against my skin, tickling slightly, and I breathed in her scent, a clean, sharp smell like pine needles after a rain. I could taste the pie she’d been eating, but underneath that was a wild, elemental flavor.

Bria pulled back, her pie forgotten and somewhat crushed in her hand, her tail thumping a rapid, excited rhythm against her leg. She was breathing heavily, her amber eyes fixed on me with a raw, hungry intensity.

I was a little stunned, my own breath catching in my throat. “Wow,” I managed to croak out.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. She wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me close this time, a silent, possessive claim. We walked for a couple of steps before I found my voice again. “I can’t wait to do that again,” I said, my voice a little rough.

“Me too,” Bria grinned. She quickly finished her mangled pie, brushing the crumbs from her fur with her now-free hand. Then she silently passed me her data-slate.

I was right. There, at the top of her message list, was a group chat simply titled with five emojis: a bald man, a purple alien, and three different colored wolves.

:kissing_smiling_eyes: :smiling_imp: :wolf: :wolf: :wolf:

Bria> I'm outside his apartment.

Kaelis> Out in 5.

Bria> YOU GUYS FUCKED! I can smell it on him!

⸻unread⸻

Tian> WHAT?! DETAILS! NOW!

Zyl> Yes, please.

Kaelis> Oh Goddess... I don’t even know. :blush::blush:

Tian> Don't hold out on us!

Kaelis> His tongue needs to be declared an imperium treasure! I came so many times.

Kaelis> And then he fucked me, I can’t even describe it, I think my brain melted. After he just walked around naked, like it was nothing.

Tian> The Deep take me... I want this

Kaelis> Yeah... that wasn’t the end though, we had a shower, together! And then we had sex over the vanity.

Tian> What! Twice?

Tian> Wait, how does over the vanity work?

Kaelis> :blush: well he bent me over, and then, you know...

Tian> !!!!!!

Kaelis> After he said he was sorry. He was tired, he'd had a day? I don't know what that was that about? He really wanted to just sleep cuddled up to me.

Zyl> Oh poor Sten. Yeah we need to catch you up about some work stuff Kaelis.

Kaelis> ok, np. In the morning, he woke up horny, I couldn’t believe it! He sucked on my tits, I came from that :blush: then we, well, you know, again. That’s why we were a bit late, sorry Bria :sweat:

Kaelis> So 3 times. Goddess, I’m sore but feel so good, I can feel him dribbling out of me :blush: I'm all jelly legged, training is going to be the worst.

Zyl> This is appealing

Tian> I think my panties just melted. Bria, you lucky bitch, I’m walking him tomorrow

Tian> @Kaelis, did he do thing?

Kaelis> thing?

Tian is typing...

Before I could read what thing Tian was typing, Bria snatched the data-slate back, her eyes filled with horror as she quickly scanned the messages. Her face was a picture of dawning mortification.

“Oh, goddess,” she whispered, her voice a strangled sound. “Sten, I’m so, so sorry. We shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean for you to see…”

I stopped her, putting a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “It’s okay. As long as you don’t share it with anyone outside the group.”

“Pack,” she corrected me automatically, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders as she realized I wasn’t angry. “We wouldn’t share it outside the pack.”

I chuckled softly at her automatic correction. A small, relieved smile touched her lips. I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into my side as we started walking again towards the office, her warmth a welcome presence against the morning chill.

⸻

Chapter 10 - Protection

It’s well known that people work for a paycheck. What’s less understood, particularly by management, is that people work for more than just money. They crave a sense of purpose; they want their work to matter, to mean something. After all, people don’t quit jobs - they quit bad bosses. I could quit at any time. I had savings, the Inter-System Reassignment Program had deposited a large chunk of change into my account. I wasn’t sure if Apex knew about that. But now I had people I cared about. And I wanted to protect them.

The rest of the walk to the office with Bria was quiet. It wasn’t an awkward silence, nor a comfortable quiet. This was a silence charged with the memory of a kiss, a low hum of potential that vibrated in the space between our bodies. She held my hand, a small, possessive gesture. Every time the soft fur of her arm brushed against my skin, it felt like a tiny spark of static electricity. A tangible manifestation of the desire between us. She didn’t say much, but her tail, moving in a series of slow, deliberate sweeps. It spoke a language of deep contentment and a simmering, unspoken want.

When we arrived at the office, Vasha the receptionist gave us a curious look as we walked past her desk, Bria still attached to me. I almost expected a comment about how lewd our handholding was, but Vasha was more professional than that. We entered our commandeered meeting room, our ‘war room’, to find Tian and Zyl already there, workstations fired up. They looked up as we entered, and their morning chatter died instantly.

Zyl’s green eyes met mine, a slow, deliberate smirk spreading across her face. Tian was less subtle. She leaned back in her chair, her gaze raking over me, a low, appreciative purr rumbling in her chest. Her tongue snaked out to lick her lips in a slow motion that was anything but professional.

“Morning,” I said, my voice a little rough as I disentangled myself from Bria, who looked slightly disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Morning, Sten,” Tian purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have a good night?”

“It was eventful,” I admitted, dropping into my chair.

“Uhh Huh,” Zyl rumbled in agreement, her smirk widening. I saw her glance at Bria, who blushed and quickly became fascinated with her holo-display.

We settled into the day’s work, the professional atmosphere a veneer over the new, charged dynamic. The easy camaraderie was still there, but now it was laced with something more. A current of unspoken things that passed between us in shared glances and lingering touches.

I’d lean over Bria’s shoulder to look at a piece of code, and her tail would start its happy, thumping rhythm against her chair. I’d be whiteboarding a concept, and I’d catch Tian staring, not at the diagram, but at my ass. A hungry look in her eyes. Zyl was more circumspect, but I’d often look up to find her watching me with a calm, analytical intensity that felt far from professional.

It was a minefield of delicious distractions, and I found myself navigating it with a surprising amount of ease. The work itself, however, was a different story. The weight of my confrontation with Xyla had settled in my gut, a cold, hard knot of complicity. Every line of code we wrote felt like another brick in the trap we were building.

Late in the afternoon, we were reviewing the project plan. The next major task was to build out the A/B testing framework. It was the tool we’d use to validate the targeted new user experience. To ensure our manipulation of men into staying on the platform was quantifiable.

I looked at the task on the holo-display, and the bitter taste of Xyla’s words rose in my throat. ‘Your job is to engage and retain them.’

“Actually,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet focus of the room. “I think we need to pump the brakes on the A/B framework for a bit.”

The girls all looked up, their expressions questioning. “Why?” Zyl asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’ve been digging through the existing event layer, and I want to add some hardening to it,” I explained, turning to face them, trying to project a confidence I didn’t feel. “It’s about the user growth we’re anticipating. We need to go back and make sure it can deal with unexpected user growth.”

I zoomed in on the architectural diagram on the display. “We need to expand it, add more events in. We’re capturing basic stuff, sure, but we can add more granularity. If we’re going to fundamentally change the user experience, we need to be able to measure the source of the impact properly. I want to log everything. Every swipe, every click, every message sent, every profile view. I want to know how long a user spends looking at a picture, what parts of a profile they read, what time of day they’re most active. Everything.”

“With all that new data,” I continued, “we need to ensure there are no bottlenecks. The event system has to be able to handle the sort of message flow that’s going to get thrown at it. Especially if marketing is successful and we see a huge influx of new users. Maybe we can run some simulations on the test environment. You know, really stress-test the pipelines and see where the breaking points are before they become a problem in production.”

It was Bria who spoke up, her voice soft but her question sharp. “But… what about YAGNI? You just taught us about that. ‘You Ain’t Gonna Need It’.” Tian and Zyl nodded, agreeing with Bria’s point.

She was right. I’d spent a whole afternoon explaining the principle of not building features until they were absolutely necessary, to avoid wasting time on things that might never be used. My own words were being thrown back at me, and for a second, I was caught flat-footed. A flicker of pride went through me.

“That’s a good point, Bria. A very good point,” I said, a small, appreciative smile on my face. “And normally, you’d be absolutely right. But in this case, we’re already deep in the event framework. It’s more efficient to add this functionality now, while the codebase is fresh in our minds. If we come back to it in a few months, we’ll have to spend time just re-learning how it all fits together. Doing it now saves us time in the long run.”

All three of them looked at me dubiously. They could see my point, but it was weak at best.

I met their skeptical gazes, my own uncertainty probably showing on my face. “I know it’ll push our timeline for the new features back by a couple of weeks,” I admitted, running a hand over my bald head. That was the point. “But I’m… I’m worried we’re rushing this. There are some… edge cases… around user safety that I want to think through more carefully before we go any further. I’d rather we take a little more time now and get it right, than rush something out that could… you know… have problems.”

The girls exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. My justification was thin, and they knew it. They could tell there was something else going on. A deeper current of concern that I wasn’t willing to voice even in the confines of our employers glass-walled war room.

It was Tian who broke the quiet, her usual boisterous energy softened by a surprising insight. “You know,” she began, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, “maybe we should go out for a proper planning lunch sometime this week. Get out of the office, do some brainstorming on a napkin. Sometimes a change of scenery helps.”

The offer was clear. It wasn’t about the work; it was about the subtext. It was a lifeline, an invitation to talk about what was really bothering me, away from the prying ears and corporate oversight of Apex.

I looked at them, at the quiet support in their eyes, and a wave of gratitude washed over me. “Yeah,” I said, a small, genuine smile touching my lips for the first time all afternoon. “That’s a great idea.”

It was Zyl, ever the practical one, who spoke first. “Okay, well this makes sense then,” she said, nodding slowly, glancing at the others. “It’s better to build it right.”

Tian and Bria quickly voiced their agreement. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But the cold knot in my stomach remained. I had bought myself a few weeks. And an awkward conversation. But then what?

With the decision made, a sense of purpose returned to our little war room. The tension that, for me, had been simmering under the surface seemed to dissipate. It was replaced by the familiar, comfortable rhythm of collaborative work.

We dove into the task of expanding the logging framework, the easy camaraderie of our pub sessions bleeding seamlessly into our work time. The air was thick with the quiet chatter of technical debate, punctuated by the clatter of keyboards and the occasional burst of laughter.

We were deep in a discussion about data serialization formats when the door to our meeting room slid open. Tuli stood in the doorway, her expression a mask of professional neutrality. Her golden eyes swept over the room, taking in our makeshift setup, before they landed on me.

“Sten,” she said, her voice calm and even. “Could I have a word? In my office.”

The easy atmosphere in the room evaporated. The girls all froze, hands hovering over keyboards. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zyl push her chair back, her body tensing as she started to rise. Her expression a mask of fierce, quiet protectiveness. She wanted to come with me.

I caught her eye and gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of my head. Her movement stilled, a flicker of understanding, and maybe a little frustration, in her green eyes. She settled back into her chair, but her posture remained rigid, a sentinel watching.

I followed Tuli out of the war room and across the main office floor to her private workspace. She didn’t speak until the door had slid shut behind us, cocooning us in a bubble of soundproof privacy.

She gestured to the chair opposite her desk, and I sat. Tuli remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Countess D’vejin has informed me that she’ll be in Vor’s Scratch this Shel,” she began, her tone all business. “She’ll be attending the quarterly dinner hosted by The Taivanrikus Circle. Your presence is required, to accompany the Countess.”

Huh. I guess she’d told me this sort of thing could happen.

“Her driver will be at your apartment, at sixteen hundred.” Tuli continued, her voice leaving no room for argument. Her gaze then flickered over my casual attire, a silent, pointed question. “I trust you have appropriate formal wear?”

I let out a slow breath, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I’ve spoken to a tailor,” I confirmed. “But that was only a few days ago. He said he’d need to do research. I’m not sure he can have something ready in time.”

A flicker of something - surprise or annoyance? - crossed Tuli’s face. “Yes, we received the initial invoice from ‘The Hunter’s Stitch’ this morning,” she said, her tone sharp. “It’s highly irregular for a tailor to bill for ‘research and development’ on a single suit, let alone two.”

I just shrugged. “It was made clear by Countess D’vejin that part of my responsibilities for Apex is to attend formal engagements. That requires formal clothing I wouldn’t otherwise purchase. So Apex will foot the bill. Getting custom human formalwear is expensive. And I trust that The Countess would want her plus one to look his best.”

Tuli’s expression softened, a hint of understanding in her golden eyes. “I see.” She let out a small, weary sigh. “Well, in the future, please consult me before doing this sort of thing.” She paused, waiting for my answer. I said nothing.

She eventually continued. “The Countess is… particular. Be on your best behavior. This is not just a social event; it’s a political one.”

“I understand,” I said. “If I’m going to have my suit ready by Shel, I’m going to need to go for fittings. That’s probably going to take up some work time.”

Tuli just nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of the situation. “Do what you need to do,” she said, her voice tired.

With that, I was dismissed. I walked back to the war room, the weight of the summons settling heavily on my shoulders. The girls looked up as I entered, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern.

I dropped into my chair with a sigh. “Well,” I announced to the room at large. “It seems I have an obligation on Shel. With the Countess. At The Taivanrikus Circle’s quarterly dinner.”

The reaction was immediate. “What?” Tian exclaimed, her chair scraping against the floor as she leaned forward. “Why?”

“It seems that part of my ‘responsibilities’,” I said, making air quotes with my fingers. “Is to occasionally be the Countess’s arm candy at formal events.” I let out a humorless laugh. “I very much do not want to go.”

“The Taivanrikus Circle?” Zyl asked, her brow furrowed in thought. “What is that?”

“It’s a club,” Bria supplied, her voice a soft, knowledgeable murmur. “A very exclusive one. Nobles only. They meet in Vor’s Landing, in the old district.”

I nodded, the name confirming my suspicions. I then let out a genuine, frustrated sigh. “Damn it. I was really looking forward to Shel. I was going to invite you all over, and Kaelis. I was thinking of making pizza and we could watch a human movie.”

“Pizza?” Tian asked, her head tilted in confusion.

“It’s an Earth food,” I explained, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through my frustration. “It’s amazing. But I’m not going to spoil the surprise.” I stood up, grabbing my hoodie. “Speaking of which, I need to go see my tailor tomorrow morning, get this suit rush-finished.”

“Which one are you going to?” Zyl asked.

“‘The Hunter’s Stitch’,” I replied.

Bria’s eyes widened. “Sten, that’s… that’s a really exclusive and expensive place. They usually only make clothes for nobles.”

“Huh,” I said, a flicker of surprise running through me. “Kaelis found it for me.” I pulled out my data-slate, a new thought occurring to me. “Speaking of Kaelis, I should probably let her know I’m busy.” I quickly typed out a message.

Sten> Hey, bad news. I have a mandatory work thing on evening of the first day of Shel.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Kaelis> Oh, damn! I actually have plans that night I couldn't get out of anyway. But I'm still really looking forward to seeing you at the pub with Torka and Lyra on Shel eve!

I smiled, a wave of relief washing over me.

Sten> Me too. Hey, I have an idea. Why don't I invite Tian, Bria, and Zyl to come along? I think they'd all get along great with Torka and Lyra.

Kaelis> Yeah, I'd like to spend more time with them!

I put my slate away and turned to the girls, a genuine smile on my face now. “So,” I said, my tone light and hopeful. “How do you three feel about a pub night on Shel’s Eve?”

⸻

The girls, of course, agreed to the pub night with an enthusiastic chorus of “Yes!” that echoed slightly in our small war room. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of productive coding and quiet, stolen glances. When the workday finally ended, the girls packed up with a speed that bordered on frantic.

As per our new routine, Zyl fell into step beside me as we left the office, her presence a solid, comforting weight in the cool evening air. We walked in a comfortable silence for a block before I finally broke it. “So,” I began, my tone casual. “It was mentioned you sometimes… used to escort me home?”

Zyl glanced at me, a flicker of amusement in her green eyes. “I did, I do,” she confirmed, her voice a low rumble.

“How often is ‘sometimes’?” I pressed.

She looked at me, her expression unreadable. “Do you really want to know?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m curious.”

“Every day,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Unlike Tian, I don’t have training after work. And I can always hit the gym later.”

I stopped walking, genuinely astonished. “Every day? I had no idea. I never saw you.”

A slow smirk spread across Zyl’s face. “You are not the most observant, Sten,” she rumbled, her voice laced with a dry amusement. “Not a natural hunter.”

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the quiet street. “No,” I agreed, shaking my head. “I guess I’m not.” We started walking again. “But I’d still like to go hunting with you sometime… even if all I’m good for is carrying things.”

Zyl looked at me, her expression deadpan, but there was a definite, wicked twinkle in her green eyes. “We could always try gathering some of that special ‘man-sauce’,” she said, her voice a perfect, straight-faced delivery.

I let out another laugh. “Yeah,” I said, a grin on my face. “I’d like that.”

When we reached my apartment building, I turned to her. Before I could say or do anything, Zyl spoke, her voice a little more serious. “Bria told us you kissed her this morning.”

I just nodded.

“I’m not trying to rush you,” she continued, her gaze steady. “So please, don’t feel any pressure from me.”

I chuckled, a soft, wry sound. “You know, back on Earth, that’s usually the man’s line.”

She looked at me, tilting her head.

“Come here,” I said, my voice gentle. I opened my arms, and she stepped into them. Or rather, I was encompassed by her. I buried my face in her chest, the thick, deep brown fur soft against my cheek. She was… safe. It was a solid, all-encompassing embrace that spoke of quiet strength and protection. She smelled clean, like the crisp air after a thunderstorm. An undercurrent of sharp ozone mixed with the faint, earthy scent. I’d always thought of myself as self-sufficient, a man who could handle his own problems, who didn’t need anyone to lean on.

But as Zyl’s strong, furry arms wrapped around me, pulling me into the warm solid mass of her chest, I felt a profound sense of relief wash over me. It was a strange, novel sensation, being held by a woman so much larger than myself. I felt small in her arms, dwarfed by her sheer presence, but it wasn’t a feeling of weakness. It was a feeling of being shielded, of a deadly predator deciding that you’re part of her pack. Being utterly and completely safe. For the first time in a long, long time, that felt good. It was… nice. When she finally, reluctantly, let go, I stretched up on my toes and planted a soft kiss on her furry cheek.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice a low murmur. “For looking after me. For being there. For being you.” I gave her a teasing smile. “Especially since I’m not a natural hunter.” Zyl just chuffed in response.

I went into my apartment, the warmth of Zyl’s hug still lingering on my skin. I glanced out the window, just in time to see her looking back at my door, a final, silent check to make sure I was home safe. Satisfied, she turned and walked away, a contented look on her face. If she’d been human, I was sure she would have been whistling. Could Rakiri even whistle?

I went through the mundane motions of the evening. I threw a load of clothes in the wash, the quiet hum of the machine a familiar, domestic sound. I made dinner, my mind drifting as I experimented with some of the new ingredients I’d picked up. I hadn’t found anything quite like cheese on Dirt yet. But I had discovered a thick, tangy yogurt-like product that, when heated, melted into a consistency that wasn’t a bad substitute. The flavour was closer to cream cheese, but it did the job.

It was a pleasant, quiet evening. But something was missing. The silence of the apartment felt hollow, empty without the easy chatter and explosive laughter of the girls.

Later, as I lay in bed, staring at the unfamiliar patterns the city lights made on the ceiling, I considered it. I had always kept myself independent. A satellite in a loose orbit around my previous partners, engaged but always distant. There was an unspoken understanding that I was just passing through, that I would eventually get the itch and move on.

But this… this felt different. The wanderlust was still there, the quiet draw of the unknown. Of new cultures, new experiences. But for the first time, the thought of leaving was accompanied by a sharp pang of potential loss. That sense of safety in Zyl’s arms, of being part of something bigger than myself, of being cared for… that was a feeling I didn’t want to lose. It felt like home. Maybe… Maybe that’s what a pack was?

⸻

Chapter 11 - Drama

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man dating four women at once must love drama. I, however, did not love drama. And to be fair, I’d only been ‘dating’ four women at once for mere days, so I really had no idea if there would be drama or not. But with my vast experience, it had been rather drama-free.

The next morning, I was barely out of the shower when a sharp, insistent knock echoed from my apartment door. I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, running a towel over my still-damp head as I went to answer it. Tian stood on my doorstep, a wide, predatory grin on her face. She was practically vibrating with a barely contained energy, her tail giving a series of excited thumps against the doorframe.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she chirped, holding up a grease-stained paper bag that smelled deliciously of fresh pastry and spiced meat. Her eyes raked over me with an appreciative gleam. “I brought us some pasties. Now, are you ready to go play dress-up?”

I chuckled, grabbing my hoodie and pulling it on. “Give me a second.”

We walked to ‘The Hunter’s Stitch’, eating as we went. The pastry was light and flaky, and I finished mine quickly, trying my best to brush the crumbs from my hoodie before we arrived. I didn’t want to walk into an expensive tailor’s shop looking like I’d just rolled out of bed and ate breakfast on the way, even if I sort of had. Tian finished hers a moment later, licking a stray flake of pastry from her claws with a flick of her tongue.

The morning air was crisp and cool. The bell above the door chimed as we entered, and Mr. Fen looked up from a bolt of dark, shimmering fabric, a polite, professional smile on his face.

“Ah, Sten,” he greeted, his voice a smooth baritone. “I received your message. A rush job for the Taivanrikus Circle dinner, you say? A prestigious event. It will be a challenge, but a welcome one.”

“I appreciate you taking it on,” I said, returning his smile. “Whatever the cost, just put it on the Apex tab. Charge like a wounded turox.”

Mr. Fen’s smile widened. “Of course.” He gestured towards the curtained-off fitting room. “If you’ll follow me.”

I stepped into the back room and stripped down to my underwear, stepping onto the pedestal. Mr. Fen was all business, his hands moving with the practiced efficiency of a master craftsman as he took a final set of precise measurements. He made small adjustments to a pattern pinned to a nearby mannequin.

As he worked, I caught a flicker of movement in the main shop. The curtain separating the fitting room from the main area had been pulled back just a fraction. And a single, bright green eye was peering through the gap. I met Tian’s gaze and gave her a slow, deliberate wink. The eye widened in surprise before it vanished and the curtain fell back into place with a soft swish.

A few minutes later, the fitting was done. As I pulled my clothes back on, Mr. Fen spoke up. “I believe I can have the navy blue ensemble completed and delivered to your address on the morning of the event,” Mr. Fen commented, his voice calm and professional. “The black, however, will take a little longer.”

“No problems, Mr. Fen. Thank you again,” I said, extending a fist. He met it with his own, a surprisingly firm gesture. I walked out of the fitting room and into the main shop to find Tian pretending to be engrossed in a display.

“See anything you like?” I asked, my voice laced with amusement.

She jumped. “Oh! Um, no. Just… looking,” she blurted out. I’m not sure how I ever managed to ‘sneak up’ on a Rakiri…she must have been very distracted.

I chuckled, a low sound. “Uh-huh. And what you were ‘just looking’ at, did you like it?”

Her bravado returned in a flash, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her face. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive purr. “I don’t know… I think I need to see mo…”

Before she could finish her sentence, before she could escalate the flirting into something more, I moved. I closed the distance between us in a single step. My hand came up to sink into her thick fur. Her surprised gasp was swallowed by my mouth as I kissed her.

It was a surprise attack. Her eyes went wide with shock. For a single, charged heartbeat, her entire body went rigid. Then, she melted into it. A low, possessive growl rumbled deep in her chest, and her mouth didn’t just open; it met mine with a fierce, answering pressure.

It wasn’t a long kiss, just a statement, a promise. When I pulled back, she was just staring at me, her usual arsenal of witty comebacks and flirty banter completely gone. Her tail, however, was a blur of motion, thumping a frantic, happy rhythm against her leg.

⸻

The workday dragged on, each minute stretching under the weight of anticipation. It was a different kind of progress from the focused, foundational work we’d done earlier in the week. We were still improving the logging framework, but it felt more like polishing than the big, productive strides we’d made before.

The girls knew I was slow-playing things. But underneath the hum of our slightly less-productive work, there was a current of excited, buzzing energy. I’d told them about Torka and Lyra, and they had relentlessly pestered me with questions ever since. What were they like? Were they nice? How did I meet them?

Now, they were practically vibrating with anticipation for the pub night. Their chatter during breaks a constant, excited murmur about meeting my other friends. “Wait,” Tian had asked, her eyes wide with a sudden, scandalous thought. “Did you meet them at the same sex party you met Kaelis at?” I just rolled my eyes, the kinky sex party had become canon.

I couldn’t quite untangle the source of their collective excitement. I’d made it clear to them that Torka and Lyra were just friends, so it wasn’t some romantic rivalry thing. Was it just the novelty of hanging out with Kaelis, the sports hero? Or the simple pleasure of an after-work drink? Whatever it was, their enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself looking forward to the evening with a surprising eagerness.

The moment the workday officially ended, it was like a starting pistol had been fired. Workstations were shut down, and as I reached for my hoodie, Tian was there, grabbing it first and holding it open for me. Her ‘help’ involved a lot of unnecessary hand-on-body contact. I wasn’t sure if it was a genuine attempt to speed things up or just an excuse to grope me. Either way, we were out the door in record time.

We walked to ‘The Broken Pick’, the girls’ chatter a bright, cheerful counterpoint to the grey evening. We snagged our usual table, the long, padded bench already feeling like our spot.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Kaelis walked in. How did she know we’d arrived early? Oh, right. The group chat I still wasn’t a member of…

Her eyes scanned the room, and a slow, genuine smile spread across her face when she saw us. She walked over, her usual shyness replaced by a quiet confidence. I stood up, and without a word, pulled her into a deep kiss that left her breathless and blushing a deep shade of blue. I guided her onto the bench beside me, my arm settling comfortably around her waist.

Before anyone could say anything, Tian jumped up. “I’ll get the first round!” she announced, already heading for the bar.

While she was gone, the remaining girls started a quiet, comfortable chatter. Kaelis was a little sore from training, but happy. She asked how their last couple of days at work had been. Bria explained the shift in focus without going into too many details.

Tian returned with a tray of drinks, expertly navigating the tables. “He’s been a good boy,” she said, setting the drinks down and sliding back into the booth. “We told him about our escort duty, and he didn’t even blink. Just accepted it.”

Zyl nodded in agreement. “It’s nice,” she rumbled.

Bria turned to me, a curious light in her amber eyes. “Sten, did you know Kaelis played Grav-Ball before you went to the game?”

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Goddess, no. She told me she was a ‘Physical Performance Analyst’.” Kaelis’s blush was instantaneous, a deep shade of blue that bloomed across her cheeks. She sank a little lower in her seat, but leaned into my touch.

“I didn’t even know what Grav-Ball was until Tian started talking about it. But I’m a convert now. You were both incredible out there.” I looked from Tian to Kaelis, a genuine admiration in my voice. “Seriously.” My arm tightened around Kaelis’s waist in a proud squeeze. “I’m going to come to as many of your games as I can. I’ll need to get some team jerseys, too!”

Kaelis and Tian both beamed at the praise. “Well, we’ll have to get you to try them on,” Tian said, her voice dropping to a low, suggestive purr as she gave me a slow, deliberate wink. “You know, to make sure you get the right size. We wouldn’t want it to be too loose… or too tight.”

Kaelis nodded vigorously, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Sure,” I said, my voice full of a matching, teasing warmth. “That sounds like fun. I might need some help, though…” Tian’s tail started wagging, a series of rapid, happy thumps against her leg.

Kaelis spoke up, her voice a little shy but proud. “I can probably get you a Vipers jersey for free, Sten.”

“Ooh, me too, please!” Tian chimed in, her own tail wagging in a series of rapid, happy thumps against her leg. “And can you sign it for me?”

“Sure,” Kaelis said with a happy smile.

The girls devolved into a happy chatter about Grav-Ball tactics, and I leaned back, just soaking it in. A few minutes later, the door to the pub swung open again, and my smile widened as I saw two familiar faces step inside.

When Torka and Lyra arrived a little while later, I stood up to greet them. “Hey,” I said, a wide grin on my face. “Welcome to whatever this is,” I gestured at the table.

Torka just rumbled a low chuckle, a knowing look in her green eyes. Lyra, ever the agent of chaos, zeroed in on me, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, Sten,” she began, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “It’s all starting to make sense. You came all the way to Dirt to find yourself a pack of girlfriends after all!” Her gaze sweeping over the girls with a dramatic flair.

I burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the lively pub. “You know,” I said, turning to my girls, “when I first met Lyra, that’s almost exactly what she asked me.” The story of my first night at the pub, of Lyra’s blunt and hilarious questions, came tumbling out, much to the amusement of Tian, Bria, and Zyl.

Tian, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned across the table towards Lyra. “Wait,” she said, her voice a loud, conspiratorial whisper. “Did you meet Sten at the same sex party he met Kaelis at?”

Lyra let out a peal of high-pitched, infectious laughter that made a few heads turn at the bar. The question broke the last of the ice, and the table erupted into a chaotic, happy symphony of voices as greetings were exchanged and introductions were made.

Amidst the cheerful din, I saw Torka’s gaze meet Zyl’s across the table. They shared a slow, deliberate, appraising look. Then, in a moment of silent, mutual understanding, they gave each other a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The nod of one quiet predator acknowledging another.

The happy chaos was infectious, and my stomach reminded me of my base needs. “Alright,” I said, pushing myself out of the booth. “I’m getting drinks. And food. Lots of food.” I knew from experience that feeding a group of Rakiri and Shil’vati was not a task to be taken lightly.

I held up my hands to forestall the inevitable protests. “I know, I know, you were all taught better, but let me have this one. In my culture this is the norm. It’s going to take me time to adjust.” The girls exchanged a series of begrudging and confused looks before finally, reluctantly, agreeing.

I turned to Torka. “Hey, what was that smokey spirit called again?” Just as she opened her mouth and replied with a deep - I got distracted by Tian shouting from across the table, “Get me a Bushranger pie, Sten! And some of those fried tubers!” The name of the spirit was lost in the sudden demand for food.

I just grinned and headed for the bar, Kaelis falling into step beside me, obviously the designated escort for this trip. I put in an order for a round of Amber-Golds, Red-Grains, and two of ‘the smokey sweet stuff’. And, of course, a mountain of meat pies, skewers, and the fried tuber dish that smelled delicious.

When Kaelis and I returned to the table, our arms laden with trays of food and drinks. The scene that greeted us was one of intense, conspiratorial solidarity. Lyra had successfully corralled Tian, Bria, and Zyl into a tight huddle at one end of the booth. Their heads were close together, their voices a low, excited murmur of shared secrets. As we set the food down, Kaelis was immediately pulled into the huddle, leaving me on the other side of the booth.

I just smiled, setting the food and drinks down. Torka, who had been watching the huddle with a look of amused detachment, slid over to make room for me. I settled in beside her. I looked over at the happy, chaotic huddle of women at the other end of the table, then back at Torka’s calm, steady presence beside me. “You know,” I began, my voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. “You and Lyra might have the right idea with this whole monogamy thing.” I let out a small, wry laugh. “I think my life is about to get very… interesting.”

Torka let out a low, rumbling chuckle at my observation, the sound a pleasant vibration. “You might be right about that,” she agreed. Her gaze drifting over to the huddle of women at the other end of the table.

The rest of the night found its rhythm in the contrast between the two ends of our table. From the girls’ huddle came a constant stream of chatter, punctuated by sudden shrieks of laughter from Lyra that made the glasses rattle. But here, beside Torka, it was like we were in our own quiet bubble, a calm eddy in their chaotic current.

“So, besides fixing shuttles and keeping Lyra out of trouble, what do you do for fun?” I asked, leaning in a little closer to be heard over a sudden shriek of laughter from Lyra.

Torka took a slow, deliberate sip of her smoky spirit. “I process meats,” she said, her voice a calm, matter-of-fact rumble.

I blinked. For a brief, ridiculous moment, my brain conjured an image of Torka in a plastic apron, calmly dismembering a victim like some sort of furry Dexter. “You… process meats?”

A small, proud smile touched her lips. “Yes. I hunt, obviously. But for me, the real passion is what comes after.” Her green eyes took on a distant, focused look, the same kind of intensity I saw in Bria when she talked about her models. “Taking the raw product and turning it into something else with spices and smoking. Jerky, sausages, smoked slithias, all sorts.”

She started talking about the art of it, her deep voice a soothing counterpoint to the chatter from the other end of the table. She spoke of different woods for smoking, of spice blends that had been in her family for generations. The delicate balance of salt and sugar and time needed to create the perfect cure. She talked about the subtle differences in flavour between meat from an animal taken in the summer versus one taken in the fall, when it had been fattening up for the winter.

I knew next to nothing about making jerky, but I loved eating it. “Wait, you mentioned smoked Slithias?” I interrupted, my curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

Torka’s proud smile widened. “It’s a delicacy. The Slithias is a small, fatty predator. You take the belly meat, cure it for a week in a mix of salt, sugar, and spices, and then cold-smoke it for a few days over smouldering Glimmer-moss.” She paused, her eyes taking on that same distant, passionate look. “You slice it thin and fry it until it’s crispy. The fat renders out, and it’s just… perfect. Salty, smoky, and it melts in your mouth.”

My own mouth started watering. “So… it’s bacon,” I said, the realization dawning on me with the force of a religious epiphany. “That’s bacon! Alien bacon!”

Torka tilted her head, confused. “What’s bacon?”

“It’s a gift from the gods,” I said, my voice full of a sudden, fervent excitement. “Torka, you don’t just smoke meats. You’re a wizard. A meat-wizard.” Listening to her, I realized this wasn’t just a hobby. I was suddenly desperate to know more, I might have found a source of bacon!

“Here,” she said suddenly, reaching into a deep pocket of her practical, multi-pocketed trousers. She pulled out a small, wax-paper-wrapped bundle. “This isn’t the smoked slithias, that needs to be kept cold. This is some of my jerky. Try some.” She offered it to me.

The wax paper crackled as I unwrapped it. The smell hit me first - a rich, complex aroma of woodsmoke and a spice I couldn’t name but reminded me of thyme. The jerky itself was a dark, almost black strip, stiff and leathery to the touch. I took a bite, my teeth working against the tough texture.

The flavour was intense, a complex explosion of tastes that was worlds away from the mass-produced stuff I’d had back on Earth. As I chewed, a prickle of awareness made me look up. Zyl’s nose twitched while her eyes were fixed on me. Her head tilted with a calm, curious intensity as her eyes flicked between me and the jerky.

“Wow,” I said, my voice full of genuine admiration. “That’s… amazing.”

A flicker of pride warmed Torka’s calm, green eyes. “Snowglider,” she explained. “I use a zeth-leaf and masala rub for that batch.”

The night flowed on in a chaotic symphony of overlapping conversations. At one end of the table, Lyra was in the middle of a story, her voice rising with excitement. “…and the server just stared at her, completely horrified!” she finished, before immediately turning to Torka. “Torka, you remember when Yila tried to dye her fur blue? Tell them what happened!”

Tian would try to get me to settle a debate about the best way to kit out a mecha in ‘Mecha Dominion Online’. “Sten, you worked in games, what do you think is better for a close-quarters build? A plasma cannon or a chain-blade?” I had no idea, I’d never played it, but it was apparently in my future.

“What’s the cool-down on the cannon?” I asked, falling back on gaming principles. “You’re probably after sustained damage at close range. If it overheats after two shots, the blade might be better?” Tian’s eyes lit up, thrilled that I was engaging on her level.

During Torka and my conversation, she mentioned off-handedly that Lyra specialized in contract law. My head snapped up. I leaned across the table, butting into the girls’ conversation without a second thought. “What the fuck, Lyra? You’re a lawyer?!”

She looked at me, her head tilted, a surprised but amused look on her face. “Yeah?” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Oh, okay,” I said. I leaned back, genuinely stunned. The lawyers I’d run into back on Earth were soulless sharks in tailored suits, all teeth and billable hours. Lyra, with her boundless enthusiasm and penchant for gossip, was about as far from that image as you could get. “It’s just… you don’t act like any other lawyer I’ve ever met.”

Lyra just shrugged, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I save the soul-crushing professionalism for when I’m actually getting paid for it.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Cool. Good for you!”

As Lyra and Tian devolved into a fit of giggles, Zyl leaned across to Torka, her voice a low counterpoint to their laughter. “Torka, is it true that the new long-range data courier ships have a design flaw in their heat exchangers and that’s why inter-system traffic is so delayed?” Torka’s eyes lit up, and she launched into a detailed, technical explanation that had Zyl listening with a focused intensity.

At some stage, Bria turned to me, her amber eyes wide with a hesitant curiosity. “Sten,” she began, her voice a little shy, “is it true that on Earth beaches… you have public pornography?”

I choked on my drink, a spray of smoky spirit erupting from my mouth. Torka, with reflexes honed by years of working with heavy machinery, leaned out of the way just in time.

“What?” I managed to cough out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Where did you hear that?”

“Zyl found some holo-vids,” Bria mumbled, her gaze dropping to the table.

“I mean, I guess it happens,” I said, my mind trying to process the question. “But sex isn’t normally a public thing. And it’s not very comfortable. You get sand in places… it’s not a good time.”

“Wait, you’ve had sex on a beach?!” Tian exclaimed.

Bria’s tail curled behind her as she looked up. “No, no,” she interrupted before I could respond to Tian. “I mean, all the men. Walking around basically nude. No shirts… just tiny pants!”

I burst out laughing, a genuine, open sound that seemed to surprise them. “Oh, that! Yeah, that’s completely normal. On a hot day, you’ll see guys and girls dressed like that at the beach.” I looked at their shocked faces, a wide grin spreading across my own. “Hey, if we ever get a chance to travel to Earth, I’ll take you all to a beach. It’ll be fun! I’d love to see you all in bikinis… I’ll even wear swim briefs!”

A beat of silence fell over the table. “Wait,” Tian said, her brow furrowed. “What are ‘swim briefs’?”

Then, in a sudden, unified motion, four data-slates were whipped out. Fingers flew across the screens, the quiet tapping a frantic counterpoint to the pub’s ambient noise. A moment later, Tian held up her slate, displaying a holo-image of a muscular human male in a pair of tight, bright red budgie smugglers. He was standing on a white sand beach, smiling confidently into the camera.

“You want to wear this,” she said, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief, “in front of everyone?”

Before I could even respond, Zyl’s voice cut through the air, sharp and absolute. “You will absolutely not.”

I looked at them, completely puzzled. “Why not? I have before. Are they illegal or something?”

Zyl’s face was a mask of frustration, her ears flat against her head. “No,” she said, her voice a low, final growl. “Just… no.”

I just shrugged, a confused smile on my face. “Okay.” I shrugged. This wasn’t a debate about swimwear; it was a protective claim. I liked it, but I needed to establish agency. I had an idea.

A small, quiet voice piped up. It was Bria, her gaze fixed on the holo-image on Tian’s slate, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Maybe… maybe we should order some of those swim briefs,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You know, just… because.” Tian, who had been nodding emphatically at Zyl’s decree, suddenly froze. She looked from Bria to the holo-image and back again, a new, speculative gleam lighting up her eyes.

I spoke up, breaking their conspiracy. “Or we could just go to a nude beach.”

My casual suggestion landed like a grenade.

Zyl’s reaction was a low, guttural growl rumbled in her chest. Her green eyes narrowed. It was a look that said, ‘Mine. Not for public display.’

Kaelis on the other hand combusted in a neon-blue blush. She seemed to glow in the dim pub light as she made a small strangled sound in the back of her throat.

Bria just started squirming on her seat. I imagined she was clenching her thighs but I couldn’t see. I heard her tail scraping against the wood of the chair though.

Tian’s jaw went slack. Her mind seemed to be running a thousand frantic calculations. The internal conflict was so intense it seemed to short-circuit her brain. Finally, with a determined shake of her head, she turned back to her data-slate. Her fingers flying as she started ordering swim briefs in every available colour.

And then there was Lyra. She threw her head back and let out a peal of high-pitched, infectious laughter that cut through the tension like a knife. “Oh, Sten,” she gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. “You’re going to be the death of them.”

⸻

We’d said goodbye to Lyra and Torka at ‘The Broken Pick’ and started our way home. The streets of Vor’s Scratch were hushed, our footsteps and fading laughter the only sounds in the cold night air. They echoed off the colourful, rock-crete buildings, their painted facades muted under the dim glow of the streetlamps. The girls formed a casual orbit around me as we walked. It was comfortable, easy. It felt so surprisingly normal that the reality of my situation didn’t hit me until we were standing in a loose, uncertain cluster outside the door to my apartment building.

The chatter died down, replaced by a sudden, heavy silence. Four pairs of eyes-gold, green, and amber-were fixed on me, their expressions a mixture of hope, curiosity, and a tense expectation.

My brain blue-screened. A frantic, panicked search for the right social protocol in a situation for which I had absolutely no experience. On Earth, this would be the point where you’d say your goodbyes, maybe steal a goodnight kiss from the one woman you’d walked home. Or, if the night had gone particularly well and they were giving you those signals, you might invite that person up.

But this wasn’t Earth, there were four of them. I looked at Kaelis, at the soft, hopeful look in her golden eyes, and my body hummed with the memory of her in my bed. I wanted to invite her in, to feel her wrapped around me again. But what would that say to the other three? Would it be a rejection? Was it playing favourites? Would I be declaring Kaelis the ‘winner’ of some unspoken competition?

Then I looked at Tian, Bria, and Zyl. At the open, hopeful curiosity on their faces. I wanted to invite them in too. I wanted to spend more time with them, to keep this wonderful, easy camaraderie going. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to go to ‘home base’ with them yet. I’d only just started thinking about them that way.

My apartment was small, and my bed was… not small, but definitely not big enough for five. And I wasn’t ready for… that. Whatever that might be. If they even wanted that? Did they swing that way? I hadn’t really wrapped my head around the idea of dating four women at once. I had no idea what to do. It felt like jumping into the ocean five minutes after learning what water was.

I was paralyzed, terrified of making the wrong move. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Any choice felt like a betrayal. Any word felt like a weapon. So I said nothing. The silence stretched, growing more awkward by the second.

Finally, I just blurted out, “I don’t know what to do.”

The girls looked at me. Tian finally said, “What?”

I just sighed, a sound of pure, unadulterated social exhaustion. “Okay,” I said, my voice a little rough. I ran a hand over my bald head, a nervous gesture I couldn’t suppress. “How does this work? Do I invite all of you up? Do I invite Kaelis up because…” I trailed off. I’d seen the group chat, there was no point being shy here.

“Because we fucked?” I blurted out.

A deep blue blush exploded across Kaelis’s cheeks. Bria’s amber eyes widened, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips in a gesture that was half nervousness, half hunger, before she quickly dropped her gaze. Beside her, Zyl let out a low, rumbling chuff, her green eyes fixed on mine with the unblinking focus of a predator watching its prey.

Tian, on the other hand, wiggled her eyebrows and broke the silence. “Well, I was just hoping for a kiss and to get to grope your ass again. But if you’re offering a tour of pound town…” she trailed off.

I barked a laugh. “I, um, actually want to ‘date’ you some more. And Zyl and Bria. I know I’ve spent more time with you all than Kaelis. But I’ve had you in a ‘junior co-workers - do not fuck’ box in my head until recently. It’s going to take me a little bit to figure this out. But I do want to…” I trailed off.

Zyl spoke up suddenly. “Fuck, make the beast with two backs, go pearl diving, create a clam cheese sandwich?”

I laughed. “Yeah, that,” I agreed with her. “Look, I don’t know how this works. I think there are a lot of social cues I just don’t understand and miss, because I didn’t grow up with this.” I gestured to the four of them.

“I’m going to do dumb human things, so we might just need to talk a lot more. Be blunt about stuff. So here’s me being blunt. I want to kiss you all, and yes Tian, groping is fine. I like it even. And then I want to drag Kaelis up to my apartment, and go pearl diving.” I smirked at Zyl.

“I know I have this stupid work thing tomorrow afternoon, but maybe you can come back in the morning and I’ll make everyone breakfast?” I offered.

The girls nodded, Kaelis blushed. Tian spoke up though. “I’ve got training tomorrow. But Zyl and Bria can come.” she pauses, thinking for a moment.

I start to speak up, “well, maybe we can do it anoth…”

But before I can finish, Tian interrupts me again. “No, no, this is good. It’s just… you’re thinking like a human, aren’t you? All together all the time right? But that’s not how packs work.”

I looked at her quizzically. “I don’t understand?”

“We don’t have to be attached at the hip. We all have our own lives.” Tian stopped, looking at me and smiled. “I don’t want to get dragged out every weekend for hunting season with Zyl. Or spend days inside watching Bria painting model mechs when she’s in the mood. And Kaelis flies all over Dirt for her games.”

“So, tomorrow, Bria and Zyl will come over and you can make breakfast. But now you have to make it up to me,” she grinned evilly.

Kaelis took this moment to speak up. “I can’t stay for breakfast. I have a, thing. A family thing tomorrow I have to go to. I’m free on Shelkat though!”

I took a moment to think. The names for Shil days of the week had always been difficult for me to remember. But Shelkat was the last day of Shel.

“Sure, Okay, that works. And yeah, I’ll make it up to you Tian,” I grinned back at her.

I made good on my promise right then and there. I kissed Zyl first, a slow, deliberate kiss that felt like coming home. She purred in response, letting me out of her embrace slowly. Then Bria, who melted into me with a surprising fire that promised hidden depths. When I got to Tian, she met my kiss with a hungry energy, her hand immediately finding my ass and giving it a firm squeeze. I grinned against her lips and returned the favor, my own hand finding the curve of her hip. The sharp, surprised intake of her breath told me everything I needed to know.

I turned to Kaelis, reaching out to take her hand. But she raced up the stairs to my temporary apartment. I laughed and followed her.

The rest of the night was an explosion of scattered clothes and a blur of tangled limbs. I did go pearl diving. And with Kaelis’ help, made the beast with two backs. And did the no pants dance. And rode the skin bus to tuna town. And made a clam cheese sandwich. And…

⸻

Chapter 12 - Touch

There is something know by all men, women and trinary-gendered spider-people. Touch is the oldest language. Spoken without words but understood in the soul. It can question or comfort. It can punish or pleasure. It can start a war, or finish one. And, a touch… A touch between lovers can say all those things that are too fragile, too ethereal to put into words.

The light, a muted grey, streamed through the window onto Kaelis’s naked back lying on the bed face down. It had been a very busy morning for Kaelis and I, one that had involved a great deal of activity but very little actual movement out of the bedroom. Showers had been required, and I really should air out the room.

I was sitting perched on Kaelis’s phenomenal ass, my hands working their way over the landscape of her back. The discoloration from the game earlier in the week had long vanished. She’d treated it with something called ‘bruise gel’? The gel had worked wonders, fading the worst of the impacts, but she’d claimed she was still sore.

I wasn’t entirely convinced. Was she really still aching, or was it just an excuse to get my hands on her again? “Are you milking this?” I murmured, my thumbs digging into a particularly tight knot.

She replied with a soft, breathy, “Maaaybe,” that was all the encouragement I needed. She was a goddess, a living sculpture of lean lines and coiled strength. And the feel of her skin under my palms was an intoxicating privilege.

My thumbs pressed into the dense muscle of her shoulders, and she let out a low, contented groan, the sound vibrating through her body and up into my hands. I worked my way down her spine, my fingers tracing the elegant curve. I kneaded the knots of tension left over from the game and, I suspected, our activities. With every pass of my hands, she melted a little more into the mattress, giving way to a boneless relaxation.

Kaelis’s soft groans and murmurs were abruptly interrupted by a sharp, insistent knocking on the front door.

“Oh shit,” I yelped, jumping up. “That’s Zyl and Bria.”

Kaelis, relaxed and half-dozing, didn’t really react. “Wha…” she slurred, her voice muffled by the pillow.

I threw on a pair of sweatpants and darted out of the room towards the front door. As I did, Kaelis’s voice, suddenly alert, shouted after me. “Wait, Sten…” But I didn’t hear what she said as I was already swinging the front door open.

Bria and Zyl were standing on the landing, chatting animatedly to each other. Their conversation cut off mid-sentence as they looked at me. Bria’s amber eyes went wide, and she took a half-step back, a deep blush creeping up her furry cheeks. Zyl, however, didn’t move. A slow, deeply amused smirk spread across her face as her gaze traveled over my bare chest, taking in every detail.

From the bedroom, Kaelis’s voice echoed clearly, a mortified shout. “Shirt!”

I let out a short, embarrassed laugh. I knew it was a cultural taboo for men to go shirtless, but it wasn’t a human taboo. Besides, looking at Zyl’s smirk and Bria’s flustered blush, I found I didn’t really care. This was my apartment. And this was them. “Hey. Come on in,” I said, gesturing them inside. “I’ll just… need a couple of minutes, then I’ll get started on breakfast.”

I walked back to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me. Bria and Zyl still hadn’t moved or said a word. It wasn’t until the bedroom door clicked shut that I heard the soft shuffle of them finally stepping inside. Followed by a low, conspiratorial whispering, and what sounded distinctly like a suppressed giggle from Bria.

Kaelis burst into a laugh. “Shirt, Sten!” she managed to get out, throwing a pillow at my head. “You need a shirt!”

I caught it, a sheepish grin on my face. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, tossing it back onto the bed. “I forgot.” We quickly got dressed. A glance back at the bed confirmed the sheets were a mess. I made a mental note to change them later; the towel I’d thrown on the bed at some stage would need washing too. Before leaving the room, I made sure to open all the windows as wide as possible, letting the cool morning air flood in. A small, ridiculous part of me hoping it would wash away some of the evidence of our debauchery from sensitive Rakiri noses. Even I knew I was kidding myself.

When I stepped out into the main living area, Zyl and Bria were standing awkwardly by the couch. Their initial shock having subsided into a tense, uncertain silence. Bria wouldn’t meet my eyes, her gaze fixed on a particularly interesting spot on the floor. While Zyl watched me with a focused, analytical intensity that was a little unnerving. She surreptitiously sniffed the air.

“Sorry about that,” I said, trying to break the tension as I headed for the kitchen. “I’ve not had any caffeine yet.”

Zyl’s smirk returned, a wicked glint in her green eyes. “No need to get all dressed up on our behalf,” she rumbled, her voice laced with amusement. “Please, be comfortable. We’ll… survive.”

I smiled back at her. “Maybe if you’d brought some caffeine, I could relax,” I said with a wink.

The conversation started slowly after that, still a little awkward. But as I started pulling out bowls and ingredients, the simple, domestic act of preparing food seemed to put everyone at ease. It wasn’t long before their initial shock from my door-opening performance faded, replaced by a comfortable curiosity.

A few minutes later, Kaelis emerged from the bedroom, a warm, easy smile on her face. Her presence seemed to act as a social lubricant, and the conversation began to flow even more naturally.

“So, what are you making?” Bria asked, her shyness finally giving way to her curiosity.

“Pancakes!” I announced with a grin. “Well, sort of. I’m missing a couple of key ingredients, like maple syrup and bacon. But I think I can whip up a pretty decent substitute with a sugar and fruit syrup. Prepare to be amazed and or mildly poisoned.”

As I mixed the batter, a sudden thought struck me. I looked over at Zyl and Bria. They were Rakiri. And Rakiri, as I was quickly learning, ran on a diet that was largely meat. A stack of fluffy, sweet pancakes, while a delightful treat for a human or even a Shil’vati, probably might not even register as a food for Rakiri.

I hadn’t found a proper bacon equivalent on Dirt yet, but I did have a thick slab of Turox steak in the fridge that I’d been planning to use for a stir-fry. An idea, half-crazy and half-inspired, sparked in my mind. I could slice it thinly, sear it in a hot pan for a few seconds. Then, right at the end, toss it in some of the syrup I was making. I’d have to be quick; the sugar would burn in an instant. But if I timed it right, I could create a sort of candied Turox… a sweet, savory, meaty accompaniment to the pancakes. It might work.

I grabbed the steak from the fridge, the cool, solid weight of it a reassuring presence in my hand. When I turned back from the fridge, my attention tuning back into the conversation. I found Zyl and Bria had effectively cornered Kaelis on the couch. Their earlier awkwardness was completely gone, replaced by a hushed, conspiratorial huddle.

Their heads were close together, whispering intensely. Kaelis was blushing a deep shade of blue but looked utterly content, a dreamy, satisfied smile playing on her lips. They kept sneaking glances over at me in the kitchen, their conversation punctuated by soft chuckles. I couldn’t make out most of what they were saying, just the odd word floating across the room - “…tongue…”, “…shower…”, “…do the thing…”.

I decided it was probably best not to listen too closely and turned my attention to making a gorofruit syrup for the pancakes.

Breakfast was a resounding success. My half-crazy, half-inspired culinary experiment, the candied Turox steak, was a massive hit. Bria and Zyl devoured their portions with a gusto that was both terrifying and deeply satisfying. Kaelis, too, seemed to enjoy the sweet and savory combination, though she left most of it to the Rakiri. The pancakes, fluffy and golden-brown, were also well-received.

As we were finishing up, I couldn’t resist a little teasing. “So,” I said, a mischievous grin on my face as I looked at Bria and Zyl. “Did you enjoy my goro-syrup?”

Bria’s gaze dropped to her now-empty plate, a small, happy smile touched her lips. Her tail gave a single, soft thump against the leg of the couch. Zyl, however, met my gaze head-on, her green eyes sparkling with a challenge. “Yes,” she rumbled, her voice a low, deliberate purr that sent a shiver down my spine. “But next time, I’d prefer to get it straight from the source.” Kaelis, who had been quietly sipping her tea, nodded emphatically at Zyl’s comment, her own cheeks flushing a familiar shade of blue.

I burst out laughing, an open sound that seemed to fill the small apartment. The girls all joined in. They insisted on helping with the cleanup. The small kitchen became a chaotic ballet of bodies. Every turn seemed to result in an ‘accidental’ hip bump, a lingering brush of a furry arm against my back, or a soft collision that was always followed by a shared, knowing smile.

Zyl and Bria were naturals at this new game, their touches confident and teasing. Kaelis was more awkward, her movements hesitant, like she was unfamiliar with the task. But it wasn’t long before she got stuck in, a happy blush on her cheeks. Plates were scraped, the dishwasher was loaded, and benches were wiped down with practiced ease. But the undercurrent of playful, deliberate touches was new, a silent, happy exploration.

Shortly after, Kaelis had to leave. “I’ve got that… family thing… this afternoon,” she said, her voice a little hesitant as she pulled on her jacket. Zyl and Bria stood up to give her a hug. The three of them shared a quiet, comfortable embrace. An acknowledgment of their new, shared connection. Kaelis then gave me a quick, lingering kiss at the door, her golden eyes full of a soft, happy warmth. I didn’t pry about her destination; I knew it was a sensitive topic, and I was content to just let her be.

With Kaelis gone, Zyl and Bria crashed on the couch with me, a comfortable, companionable huddle in the quiet of the apartment. As we were preview-surfing through the streaming service’s library, a thumbnail caught my eye. It was a close-up of a rugged, almost shirtless human male, his face smeared with dirt, his expression a mask of concentration. “Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing at the screen.

Zyl and Bria exchanged a quick, almost guilty glance, a flicker of embarrassment in their eyes. “Oh, that’s nothing,” Zyl mumbled, quickly trying to scroll past it.

“Hold on, go back,” I insisted. The title card appeared under the image: ‘The Gardens’.

“It’s a… a survival show,” Zyl explained, her usual calm composure faltering slightly. “They’re… popular. A human… man… gets dropped into a dangerous jungle. Each week, a new woman is introduced to help him survive.”

I looked at them, a slow grin spreading across my face as I saw Bria’s tail curl up in a clear sign of embarrassment. “And you two watch this stuff?” I asked, my voice full of amusement. They both became intensely interested in their claws. Zyl tried to play it cool, a low grumble in her chest, but the moment I asked another question, the floodgates opened.

“It’s interesting,” she said, her voice a low, defensive murmur. “From a practical standpoint. They drop him in with nothing. No tools, no supplies. He has to build his own shelter, learn to make fire from scratch. He has to hunt, set traps, identify edible plants.” She leaned forward slightly, her hunter’s instincts showing. “His fire-starting technique is inefficient, and his traps are clumsy, but the principles are sound. He learns, and he has to preserve his kills, smoking the meat so it will last. It’s… educational.” She didn’t mention anything about the weekly female visitors.

I couldn’t resist. I hit play, settling back into the cushions between them.

The show opened with a dramatic shot of a shuttle dropping a human man into a dense, steaming jungle. Bria, who had been quiet, snuggled into my side. Cautiously, she took my free arm. The one not currently occupied with navigating the holo-interface, and pulled it around her, holding it tight against her chest.

My attention was fixed on the screen, on the familiar sight of a human male trying to make sense of an alien world. Without thinking, my fingers started to move, idly stroking the surprisingly soft fur of her arm. It was thicker than I expected, with a fine, downy undercoat. I felt her shiver slightly at the contact.

“So, who’s the guy in this one?” I asked, nudging Zyl playfully with my elbow.

“That’s Rick,” she rumbled, her voice a low murmur. “This is his third season. Last season, on a temperate forest world, he had to fight off a beast with a sharpened bit of wreckage.”

As the episode unfolded, my fingers continued their absent-minded stroking of Bria’s arm. She was quiet and still, leaning into my side and holding my arm tight against her chest. I could feel a low, soft purr vibrating from her, a sound of pure contentment.

My own attention, however, was mostly on the screen. Rick, the human survivalist, was currently struggling through a dense patch of thorny vines. His shirt, which seemed to be made of the flimsiest material imaginable, caught on a branch and tore with a dramatic ripping sound. After a few more similar ‘accidents’, he let out a frustrated grunt, tore the shirt off completely. Then, in a move that struck me as utterly bizarre, ripped it into strips and fashioned a crude wrap to cover his nipples.

The whole thing felt so strange and contrived. A nipple wrap? Just take the shirt off! Maybe there were classification ratings the production company needed to hit? I noticed while he was completely shirtless, there was always a branch or bushes or something hiding his pecs.

Zyl, however, was completely engrossed, her eyes wide and fixed on the holo-display, leaning forward as if trying to absorb every detail. Her ears were canted forward, catching every sound, trying to absorb the scene completely.

A moment later, Rick, now artfully smeared with mud, was shown wandering along the bank of a shallow, fast-moving river. He was talking to the camera-drone about the importance of finding a good cutting tool. He waded into the water, and his remaining clothes immediately became semi-translucent. The thin fabric of his pants hugging every contour of his ass and thighs.

After a few moments of ‘searching’, his hand emerged from the clear, bubbling water holding a rock. It was a perfect, almost comically ideal shape for a primitive hand-axe. Smooth on one side for a grip, and tapering to a sharp, flaked edge on the other. “Well, look at this,” he said to the camera, his voice full of a practiced, theatrical surprise. “I knew there’d be something like this here. Just what I was looking for.”

I had to hold back a scoff. “When does the weekly woman show up?” I asked.

“Not ’til episode two,” Zyl answered automatically, her eyes still glued to the screen. She blinked, as if catching herself. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“So,” I said, my voice laced with a teasing amusement, “Who’s your favorite supporting woman?” I was still moving my hand through Bria’s fur. I hadn’t really thought about it, but she’d gone still and quiet. I assumed she was enjoying it so I kept my attention on Zyl.

Zyl didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the screen where Rick was attempting to build a shelter out of giant leaves. When she finally spoke, her voice was a low grumble of disapproval. “They were all terrible. Useless. He really needed a proper Rakiri woman to come and look after him.”

I grinned, nudging her again. “Someone like you, maybe?”

“Yes,” Zyl started to say, her voice full of a confident certainty. “I’d be much bet…” She trailed off, her green eyes widening as she looked at me, a sudden uncertainty washing over her features. She seemed to realize how her words might be taken. For a long moment, she just stared, her mouth slightly agape, completely at a loss for words.

I grinned, nudging her again. “So you want to go and look after poor Rick, Zyl?”

“I… n-no,” she stammered, the words catching in her throat. It was the first time I’d ever heard her stutter, her usual calm composure completely shattered. Her tail puffed up, a sign of her flustered state.

I leaned in closer, my voice a low, teasing murmur. “Come on. Poor Rick. He’s probably starving. Maybe he needs you to go and catch a real meal for him, hrm?”

Zyl’s ears flattened against her head, her green eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and something else I couldn’t quite place. She looked utterly flustered.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, a warm, easy sound that broke the tension. “Hey,” I said, my voice softening. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you fantasize about Rick. Or anyone else.”

She looked at me, genuinely surprised, her confusion overriding her embarrassment.

I just smiled. “Look, a fantasy is just a story you tell yourself. It’s not a promise or a plan. It doesn’t mean you love your partner any less. Trust me, I have plenty of fantasies about telling that heartless cunt-stain Xyla exactly how far up her own asshole she can shove her profit margins. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to. It’s just a way to blow off steam.” I gave her a wink. “Fantasize away, Zyl. It’s healthy. And I might get to enjoy the results.”

“But… wouldn’t you be mad?” Zyl asked, her voice a quiet, hesitant question.

I just shrugged, my free hand continuing its absent-minded stroking of Bria’s fur. She’d had been very quiet all this time, her hands holding onto my arm, her grip tighter than before. “Are you going to be mad if I want to watch porn?” I countered.

“Well… why would you want to do that?” Zyl asked, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “You could just… ask me. I’ll…” she cleared her throat. “I’ll help. Or any of the girls.”

Bria’s hands had gotten quite tight, her claws digging slightly into my bicep as she clutched my arm, pressing it deep between her furry breasts. But I didn’t want to break the conversation with Zyl. This was important.

“What if I just want to watch porn? Or watch with you, Zyl?” I asked, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate murmur. “What if I want to bend you over this couch and rail your ass and grip your tail. While we watch the X-rated version of The Gardens that I’m sure exists?”

Zyl’s ears flattened again, and she started to respond, her voice a little shaky. “I… I don’t think I really like ana…”

She was cut off by a sudden, sharp sound from beside me. A combination of a mewl and moan leaked out of Bria. Her body curled slightly around my arm, her hands gripping it with a desperate strength, holding it in place. Her breath came in short, sharp pants.

Zyl and I both turned to look at her. Her amber eyes were clenched shut, her body held rigid, a taut wire of tension. It was only then that I became aware of where my own hand had been roaming.

My fingers, which had been idly stroking her fur, had drifted from her arm. They traced the curve of her hip, the tips dipping just under the elastic waistband of her tights. Her breath hitched. I felt the muscles in her stomach clench under my touch as my fingers brushed the soft downy fur at the top of her mound, dangerously close to her pelvis.

My hand froze. Bria let out another low, pleading sound. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice strained and desperate. “Don’t stop… please… I want to watch you with her… please, you can use my… just don’t stop Sir…”

Her voice trailed off as her own words seemed to penetrate the haze of her arousal. Her eyes snapped open, wide with a dawning horror. The rigid tension in her body was replaced by a frantic, panicked energy.

“Oh, goddess,” she stammered, scrambling to sit up, her face a mask of pure mortification. “Um, shit, I… I’m so sorr-”

Before she could get another word out. Before the wave of embarrassment could completely overwhelm her, I acted. The sight of her, so wanting. Lost in a fantasy and my touch. It was incredible. I turned to face her fully. My hands found her shoulders and I pushed her back down against the soft cushions of the couch. I followed her down, my mouth capturing hers, silencing her panicked apology.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; her frantic apology was swallowed. Turning into a soft, surprised mewl that vibrated against my lips as she melted under my touch.

In the background, the holo-display played on, the sound a surreal counterpoint to the sudden, intense intimacy. Rick’s voice, earnest and practical, filled the quiet apartment. “…and once you’ve notched the logs, the key is to use a good, strong vine to lash the main posts together…” I risked a glance over at Zyl. She hadn’t moved. Her gaze was fixed on us, her green eyes wide and dark, analytical but with a new, undeniable heat.

A sharp, insistent knock on the front door broke the moment and the charged silence of the apartment.

I jumped up, a jolt of adrenaline cutting through the haze. I quickly straightened my clothes, my mind racing to catch up. “Oh, that will be Mr. Fen with the suit,” I said, my voice a little rough.

Bria was still lying on the couch where I’d pushed her, looking adorably dazed. Her limbs were lax, her fur was ruffled where my hands had been, and her lips were parted as she panted softly. Her amber eyes, wide and unfocused, stared at the ceiling as if replaying the last few moments in her mind.

Zyl, who had been a silent, amused observer, let out a low, rumbling chuff. She leaned back on the couch, making a show of letting her gaze travel slowly down my body. Her eyes paused, with deliberate emphasis on the prominent bulge in my sweatpants. Before rising to meet mine, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across her face.

I couldn’t help but grin back at her, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. I took a moment or two at the door, taking a deep breath to compose myself before opening it.

It was Mr. Fen, a long, dark suit-bag draped elegantly over one arm. He greeted me with a polite, professional smile. “Sten,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone.

“Mr. Fen, please, come in,” I said, stepping back to let him enter.

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the small apartment before landing on Zyl and Bria. His professional gaze took in the scene with the precision of a tailor assessing a difficult garment: the woman on the couch, her fur in disarray and her expression dazed; the other woman, poised and perhaps frustrated. Like a predator who just watched her prey leap away.

His expression flickered for just a second as he put the pieces together, before turning to me, a single, impeccably polite eyebrow raised in question.

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, a casual smile on my face. “The girls were just about to make some tea. Would you like some, Mr. Fen?”

Zyl, ever the practical one, took her cue and uncoiled herself from the couch, heading towards the kitchen to boil the kettle.

He recovered quickly, his professional demeanor snapping back into place. “No, thank you, Sten. I won’t be a moment.” He held out the suit-bag. “The navy blue, as requested. The fabric has a wonderful weight to it. I believe it captures the ‘Earth-Styling’ you were looking for. I trust it will meet with your approval.”

I took the bag from him, the weight of the fabric surprisingly heavy. “Thank you, Mr. Fen. I really appreciate you rushing this. The process has been incredibly smooth.”

A genuine smile touched his lips this time. “The pleasure was all mine, Sten. You made the process very easy. A client who knows what he wants and trusts his tailor to deliver… it’s a rare and welcome thing.” He gave a slight, formal bow. “I hope you have a pleasant evening at the Circle dinner. Please, let me know if there are any issues.” And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

After Mr. Fen left, the apartment was quiet for a moment. The spell was broken. Bria was still a little flushed on the couch, and Zyl was still smirking at me. I looked down at my sweatpants, suddenly very aware of my state of dress. The kettle finished boiling, and we ignored it.

“I think we could all use a change of scenery,” I said, breaking the silence. “How about we go grab some lunch?”

Bria, still looking a little dazed, just nodded. Zyl, however, let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Good idea,” she said, her green eyes twinkling. “Let’s go.”

I needed to get into some proper clothes before we went anywhere. “I’m just going to get changed,” I announced, heading for the bedroom. While I was pulling on a pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt, I could hear the girls moving about, their low murmurs a comfortable, domestic sound. When I came back out, they were ready to go. We decided to head out to a bakery for a light lunch. The change of scenery was welcome, and the dynamic between us shifted subtly the moment we stepped out of the apartment building.

We found ‘The Pack Oven’, the same small bakery I’d gone to with Bria the other morning. We grabbed some pies and found a small table in the corner. Zyl and Bria didn’t hesitate, sliding in on either side of me, their bodies warm and solid against mine. It wasn’t a strategic, ‘trap the man’ move like it might have felt like; it was just a natural, comfortable closeness. Throughout lunch, their hands would occasionally brush against mine as they reached for a napkin, or their shoulders would press against me as they leaned in to share a comment. They were small, seemingly insignificant touches, but they felt important to me.

After lunch, we just walked, with no particular destination in mind. The day was cool but pleasant, the grey sky a familiar, comforting blanket over the colourful streets of Vor’s Scratch. Bria looped her arm through mine, her head occasionally coming to rest on my shoulder as we walked. A soft, possessive comfort as she tucked herself into my side. Zyl fell into step on my other side, her larger frame a solid, protective presence that seemed to ward off the rest of the world. I relaxed into it, a sense of peace settling over me. This felt… nice. It felt right.

The comfortable silence stretched for a while before I finally broke it. “Hey,” I said, my voice a little hesitant. “I just… I want to apologize. For earlier. I’m sorry if I pushed things too far, especially with you, Bria.”

Bria stopped walking, pulling us all to a halt with her. She looked up at me, her amber eyes wide and serious. She bit her bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty warring with a newfound boldness. When she finally spoke, her voice was a soft, breathy whisper. “Please push my boundaries Si…Sten.”

I felt Zyl’s arm curl around me. A silent, possessive counterpoint to Bria’s plea. I glanced over at her. A slow, wicked smirk was spreading across her face, her green eyes full of an amused, predatory heat as she looked from Bria back to me. “It’s not my boundaries I’m worried about, my Sten,” she rumbled, her voice a low, possessive purr.

After our walk, we headed back to the apartment. I needed to get ready for my evening with the Countess. I left Zyl and Bria on the couch watching more of ‘The Gardens’ and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

The suit Mr. Fen had delivered was a work of art. The fabric was a deep navy blue that seemed to absorb the light, and it felt soft and smooth under my fingertips. I showered quickly, and carefully put on the crisp white shirt, the tailored trousers, and finally the jacket. The fit was perfect, hugging my shoulders and tapering at my waist in a way that was both comfortable and flattering. I knotted the silk-like tie, the smooth fabric cool against my skin, and took a look in the mirror. I barely recognized the man looking back at me.

I took a deep breath and walked out into the living room. The girls looked up from the holo-screen, their casual chatter dying instantly. Bria’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound in the quiet room. Zyl, who had been lounging against the arm of the couch, sat up straight, a low, appreciative purr rumbling in her chest. They were fans of the human suit.

Before I could say anything, they were on their feet, fussing over me with a surprising intensity. Zyl’s large, gentle hands smoothed down my lapels, her touch lingering for a fraction of a second too long. Bria, her earlier shyness completely gone, reached up to adjust my tie, her fingers brushing against my neck. They moved around me, a whirlwind of small, proprietary adjustments. Making sure every line was perfect, every crease was straight.

I pulled Bria into a hug and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. She melted into it with a happy sigh. Then I turned to Zyl, wrapping my arms around her waist and burying my face in her chest before pulling back to give her a firm kiss.

Just then, the purr of an expensive ground-car announced my ride. “That’s me,” I said reluctantly.

“We’ll lock up,” Zyl rumbled.

With a final smile, I headed for the door, the feeling of their kisses still warm on my lips. The cold air of outside was an appropriate reminder of the evening ahead.

⸻

Chapter 13 - Crump

There is something about being in a car with someone you don’t know. The silence is never empty. It’s a shared space, a temporary bubble where social rules are renegotiated. The silence can be heavy with awkwardness, light with unspoken agreement, or tense with suspicion. Every cough, every shift in a seat, every glance out the window is amplified. You both become acutely aware of the any media - is the volume too loud? Is the choice a judgment on your character or theirs? It’s a short, intense oddity. A bubble that pops the moment the door opens.

The sleek, black ground-car was outside my building, waiting. The door slid open with a near-silent hiss. It was the same car, and the same impeccably dressed Rakiri driver from before. Her glossy black fur was immaculate, her posture exuded a quiet, professional competence.

She gave a curt, single nod as I slid into the plush leather of the back seat. “Good afternoon, Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her voice a low, smooth rumble. The door hissed shut, cocooning me in the opulent silence of the vehicle.

The car pulled away from the curb with an effortless grace. The silence stretched, thick and a little unnerving. I decided to try and break it. “So,” I began, trying for a casual tone. “What kind of event is this, exactly? Tuli wasn’t very specific.”

The driver’s eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror, her expression unreadable. “It is the quarterly dinner for The Taivanrikus Circle.”

“Right,” I said. Internally, I sighed. It was a non-answer. I felt like a mushroom - kept in the dark and fed shit. “And what’s expected of me? Am I supposed to be making small talk with nobles? Am I just there to look pretty on the Countess’s arm?”

A small, almost imperceptible smirk touched the driver’s lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. “You are to be at Countess D’vejin’s disposal,” she said, her voice a neutral monotone.

The rest of the trip passed in a slow silence. I stared out the tinted window at the colourful streets of Vor’s Scratch blurring past, my mind a whirl of competing anxieties.

The pragmatic part of my brain knew I had to maintain a positive, professional relationship with the Countess. My job, and by extension the future of my team, depended on it.

But things had changed since our last ‘dinner’. I wasn’t the unattached, wandering human male anymore. The easy laughs, the sense of safety and pack, the warm touch of skin and fur. I had… something. Something with four amazing women that felt real and important.

I needed to establish a new boundary with the Countess, a clear line between the professional and the personal. And, to make things more complicated, I’d asked her out last time I’d seen her.

The car neared the venue. It was a brutal piece of modern architecture that stood in stark contrast to the rugged, practical buildings of the rest of the city. It was a monument to change. A massive, deformed bubble of what looked like single-pane diamond-glass, caught in a delicate web of black steel. It didn’t glow; it pulsed with a cold, blue light. Like a deep-sea predator that had surfaced to feed.

The main entrance was a grand affair, a wide flight of stark stairs leading up to a set of imposing double doors. A plush purple carpet rolled out, spilling down the stairs. A small crowd of what looked like reporters, mostly Rakiri, were gathered at the base of the stairs. Their camera drones hovered in the air like metallic insects, the quiet whir of their rotors a counterpoint to the shouted questions from the reporters below. Their microphones held aloft like offerings to the guests as they arrived.

But we didn’t stop there. The car glided past the main entrance, around the side of the building to a smaller, more discreet door, the kind used by staff or private deliveries. The driver got out and opened my door. “If you would follow me, Mr. Pallisen,” she said, her tone all business.

I followed her inside, into a quiet, sterile service corridor. She led me to a small, private lift, which ascended smoothly and silently to one of the upper floors.

The lift doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a small, opulently appointed antechamber. And there, standing like a queen awaiting her court, was Countess Ya’neis D’vejin.

She was a vision. She wore a floor-length gown of a deep, crimson that clung to her powerful frame, highlighting every curve. The fabric seemed to drink the light, and a cascade of what looked like black diamonds glittered at her throat and ears. Her dark, silver-streaked hair was swept up in an elaborate, regal style. And her golden eyes were sharp and assessing.

My first instinct, a holdover from some half-remembered Earth etiquette, was to take her hand and kiss it. A formal gesture that could be flirty or just polite. But I stopped myself. That was exactly the kind of signal I was trying to avoid. I needed distance, not courtly romance.

Instead, I offered a small, polite bow of my head. “Countess,” I said, my voice steady. “You look stunning.”

She didn’t thank me for the compliment, nor did she comment on my own formal attire. Her gaze swept over me, a quick appraisal, before she extended a gracefully imperious arm. I took it, her smooth skin brushing against my hand.

She turned, and I fell into step beside her as we moved out of the antechamber and down a long, quiet hallway. “You will stay by my side for the entire evening,” she said, her voice a low, commanding murmur that brooked no argument. “You will follow any instructions I give you, immediately and without question. You may answer any questions directed at you, but otherwise, you will keep your own conversation to a minimum. Is that understood?”

“Sure,” I replied, my voice a neutral, agreeable tone. “How long do you expect the event to be?”

A small, predatory smile touched her lips. “It will go late,” she said, her voice a low purr. “This is an important evening. A chance for me to see how my newest, most… exotic… asset performs in a more refined setting.” Her golden eyes raked over me, the assessment clear and cold. “The staff have been informed not to serve you any alcohol. I require you to be sharp. Once we’re finished, my car will take us back to my Vor’s residence, where we can have a more… private performance review.”

I didn’t answer. Her words hung in the air, like silken restraints. I was a trophy, an asset to be shown off and then to perform. My goal for the night solidified with a cold, hard certainty. I had to survive the evening, without pissing off my boss’s boss, and under no circumstances end up in her bed. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull this off.

We came to a set of towering double doors of some dark, polished steel, inlaid with thin lines of a silvery material that seemed to shift and shimmer in the low light. Here, the Countess stopped.

She stepped away from me, her golden eyes giving me one last, thorough inspection. Her hand came up, brushing a piece of non-existent lint from the shoulder of my suit. The touch lingered for a fraction of a second too long. This felt nothing like the warm, intimate fussing that Bria and Zyl had done earlier. This was a cold, final adjustment to her accessory before putting it on display.

Satisfied, she offered her arm again. I took it, and together we stepped through the doors as they swung open silently before us.

The quiet hallway opened up onto a wide landing, and my breath caught in my throat. We were standing on a balcony overlooking a vast room, but it was the ceiling that stole the show. It was the same delicate web of black steel and glass I’d seen from the outside. A massive, domed ceiling that revealed the bruised twilight of the Dirt sky above. It was breathtaking, a fusion of high-tech engineering and the raw, untamed beauty of the alien world.

Below us, on a floor of what looked like polished black obsidian that reflected the sky above, a sea of Shil’vati nobles milled about. They were all dressed in the same style of formal wear I’d seen on the mannequin in Mr. Fen’s shop - multi-layered garments of deep purples, blacks, and shimmering silvers. Cut and layered to resemble articulated plates of armour. It was a room full of female warriors in their dress uniforms, a display of power and wealth.

Weaving through the clusters of nobility were the waitstaff. They were almost exclusively Rakiri, their fur a stark contrast to the sea of purple skin. Their movements were silent and efficient as they offered trays of colourful drinks and delicate-looking canapés.

A grand, sweeping staircase of the polished black stone descended from our landing to the main floor. A silent invitation to join the glittering spectacle below.

Standing at the head of the stairs was another Shil’vati woman. She was dressed in the severe, formal attire of what I guessed was a high-ranking household staff member. She carried herself with an air of authority that suggested she had significant authority. She looked out over the room below, her posture ramrod straight.

As we approached, she turned, gave a slight, formal bow to the Countess, and then addressed the room. Her voice, amplified by some unseen means, cut through the low hum of conversation. “The Countess Ya’neis D’vejin, and her Paramour, Sten Pallisen, a Human male.”

The room, which had been filled with a background noise of polite chatter and clinking glasses, fell silent. Hundreds of pairs of golden eyes turned as one, their collective gaze a physical weight that settled on the landing.

The Countess, completely unfazed, began her descent, a gracious, practiced smile fixed on her face. She took the first step down the grand staircase, my hand resting lightly on her arm as she guided me along with her.

She let out a small, musical laugh that was clearly for show. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. Her voice a low, aggressive whisper that was a stark, terrifying contrast to her serene expression. “Laugh like I just said something witty, and for the Deep’s sake smile like you’re enjoying yourself.”

I laughed softly, a hollow sound that felt alien in my own throat, and looked up at her, plastering a wide, hopefully convincing, smile on my face.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a Shil’vati woman in a sparkling white dress that stood out like a supernova in the sea of dark, martial colours. She stepped forward to greet us.

Behind her trailed two Shil’vati men. I had no idea how to even begin to describe how they were dressed. They were a flamboyant riot of colour, all shimmering silks and soft, flowing fabrics in shades of emerald green and sapphire blue. Their outfits featured sweeping, plunging necklines that showed off a considerable amount of smooth, purple chest. They stood with a practiced, decorative stillness. Their expressions placid and their eyes downcast, beautiful living statues flanking their owner.

The noble in white looked me up and down, a slow, appreciative smirk on her face, before turning her attention to the Countess. “Oh, Ya’neis,” she purred, her voice dripping with a cloying sweetness. “A human! Where did you manage to snag that tasty morsel?”

The Countess’s smile didn’t waver. “You know how it is, N’dia,” she replied, her tone light and casual. “You walk past one, and they just follow you home like a lost puppy. I decided to keep this one. He’s been very… spirited.”

N’dia’s smirk widened. “Well, well. If you ever have the need to re-home said puppy, please do let me know. That’s a rare breed to find around here. You know my kennels have an empty space.”

The Countess let out a sharp, musical laugh. “Of course, N’dia. We must have dinner sometime, and I can tell you all about his training.”

As the Countess was exchanging pleasantries, a stunning woman, walking alone, was striding towards us. She was dressed in a simple, sleeveless black halter dress that drank in the light. It hugged her lean, muscled figure closely, ending well above the knee and revealing long, powerful legs clad in smooth, matte-black, knee-high boots. She was a goddess carved from dark shadow and purple strength. Her eyes were locked onto me like a point defense laser.

My heart froze in my chest. I thought back to the ‘Paramour’ introduction moments ago… this was… bad.

The Countess saw the woman out of the corner of her eye, and her practiced smile tightened for a fraction of a second. “Sorry, N’dia,” she said, cutting her friend off mid-sentence. “Excuse me a moment.”

She turned, her grip on my arm a little too tight, as the woman in black came to a stop before us. “Sten,” the Countess said, her voice a silken purr. “There is one more person you simply must meet. This is Kaelis D’vejin. She is… my daughter.”

My heart gave a single, slow, heavy thump against my ribs. I was stunned. Kaelis had known I had a ‘work thing’ tonight. She had told me she had a ‘family thing’.

Kaelis spoke, her voice a cool, level tone, but her golden eyes never left my face. It felt like they were welded to mine. “Mother. And who’s this?”

“Ah, this is Sten Pallisen,” the Countess replied, a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s an employee of mine. Sten, Kaelis here wastes her time playing childish sports instead of focusing on her family duties.”

Kaelis’s eyes finally broke from mine, shifting to her mother. Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, a flicker of the old hurt and insecurity I knew so well.

“Wait,” I spoke up, my voice cutting through the tense silence. “Kaelis? ‘The Kaelis’? Top scorer in the premier grav-ball league for the last three years running? Star player of the Vors Vipers?” I looked from the Countess to Kaelis, my face a mask of what I hoped was star-struck awe. “She’s incredible!”

Kaelis looked back at me, her back straightening, her shoulders squaring as a flicker of pride and surprise lit up her golden eyes.

The Countess’s smile became a thin, tight line. A grimace.

Like a bolt of lightning it hit me. This is it, I thought, a surge of adrenaline cutting through my shock. This is the perfect escape. I could drop this bomb right now and be free of the Countess’s desires. She’d never do anything to hurt her daughter.

I gently detached myself from the Countess’s arm. I walked the two steps to Kaelis, put my arm around her. I rose up on my toes to kiss her gently on the cheek.

“And, she’s my girlfriend,” I said, turning to look the Countess dead in the eye.

The grimace on the Countess’s face vanished, snapped away and replaced by a smile so rigid it looked carved from ice. A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Is this true, Daughter?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

Kaelis looked from her mother to me, and a slow, radiant smile spread across her face. “Yes,” she said, her voice clear and strong. “It is.” She tightened her grip on my arm, pulling me close to her side.

A titter of laughter, sharp and clear as breaking glass, came from behind us. N’dia wasn’t even trying to hide her delight, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee as she watched the family drama unfold. The two men behind her exchanged a wide-eyed, scandalized look before leaning into each other. They started tittering and whispering excitedly behind their hands.

My little bomb hadn’t just disrupted the Countess’s plans; it had turned her into the evening’s entertainment.

The Countess didn’t, quite, storm off. That would have been unseemly. But she did turn with a sharp, fluid motion and walk rapidly away, her rigid posture a clear signal of her displeasure.

I turned back to Kaelis, my heart still hammering in my chest, and drank in the sight of her. The shock of the last few minutes faded, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated adoration. “You look absolutely stunning,” I said, my voice a low, rough whisper meant only for her. “I want to ravage you. Right now. And I want to just stare at you until I burn your perfect visage into my mind. I want to touch you and feel you shiver. And I’m afraid to touch you, because such beauty should be disturbed.”

Kaelis’s golden eyes glistened, making them shine like molten gold in the ambient light of the ballroom. Her body trembled as she pulled me into a fierce, desperate hug. It felt less like an embrace and more like a woman anchoring herself in a storm. Then she was kissing me, and the world dissolved into a blur of sensation.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was a raw, hungry collision. A desperate, almost violent release of the pent-up fear, relief, and passion. Her mouth crashed against mine, and her long tongue invaded with a frantic energy, trying to devour me, to taste the victory and the safety I represented in that moment. I wasn’t sure how long it went on; I lost myself in it completely, my hands coming up her back to find the bare skin her backless dress exposed.

When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, I was breathless. I stared up at her, my heart hammering against my ribs, a goofy, love-struck grin spreading across my face.

Kaelis took my arm, her grip firm, and guided me through the parting crowd towards the nearest bar. The sea of nobles shifted around us, their curious, whispering gazes following our progress.

“A Red-Grain, please,” Kaelis said to the Rakiri bartender, her voice clear and steady.

“Make that two, thanks,” I added.

The bartender, a burly Rakiri with a scarred muzzle, looked from Kaelis to me, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Sir, Ma’am,” she rumbled, her voice respectful. “I can’t serve the human male any alcohol. Strict instructions.”

Kaelis’s head snapped towards me, a question sharp in her golden eyes.

“We need to find somewhere quiet to talk,” I said, my voice a low murmur.

Kaelis looked back at the bartender, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her face. “Fine,” she said, her voice dripping with a sweet, feigned innocence. “In that case, I’ll have two Red-Grains. And he’ll have water.”

The bartender nodded and quickly prepared the drinks. Kaelis picked up both glasses of the ruby-red liquid, handed one to me and we walked away, leaving the untouched glass of water sitting on the bar.

With our drinks in hand, Kaelis led me away from the main throng of nobles. Her touch was a world away from the Countess’s commanding, possessive grip. Kaelis’s hand was soft, a protective, guiding presence that pulled me willingly into her orbit. We found a quiet alcove, partially hidden behind a large, ornate planter. It was filled with some kind of bioluminescent flora that cast a soft, blue-green glow on our faces. It was a small pocket of relative privacy in the vast, open ballroom.

I took a small, steadying sip of my Red-Grain, the sweet, berry-ish tang a welcome familiarity in the surreal environment. Kaelis, however, took a long, deep gulp of hers, draining half the glass in one go.

“So,” I began, my voice a low, teasing murmur as I broke the comfortable silence that had settled between us. “Should I be calling you Countess Kaelis? Or is it Viscountess? I have no idea how this whole nobility thing works.”

Kaelis let out a short, sharp scoff, the sound devoid of any real amusement. “Goddess, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m the sixth daughter of ‘The Countess’. I have no title. I’m just another noble brat.” She took a long swallow of her Red-Grain, her gaze dropping to the polished stone floor. “My mother has… sort of disowned me. She says playing Grav-Ball with the ‘natives’ isn’t noble-like.”

The casual bigotry in her mother’s words, repeated by Kaelis, made my stomach clench. I moved a little closer, my arm brushing against hers, a silent offer of support. It was clear this was a raw, painful topic for her.

“I only see her when I’m summoned for a private meal,” she continued, her voice a low, bitter murmur. “Or sometimes… sometimes she makes a half-hearted attempt to ‘redeem’ me at an event like this.” She gestured vaguely at the glittering ballroom behind us. “It wouldn’t do to be seen completely ignoring her daughter,” she said, her voice dripping with a sarcasm. “Think of the gossip.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about your family much?” I asked gently.

She nodded, a single, jerky movement. “Yeah. I don’t even use my last name if I can help it.” A faint, rebellious spark lit her golden eyes. “I was always… difficult, growing up. Mother sent me to a series of exclusive boarding schools for young nobles… You know, the places designed to sand down any rough edges. But I kept skipping etiquette lessons to sneak out and play grav-ball with the groundskeeper’s daughters.”

A small, wry smile touched her lips, the first genuine one I’d seen since we’d arrived. “Eventually, Mother got me a professional trainer. She thought if she indulged my… hobby… I’d get it out of her system.” She let out another humorless laugh. “That didn’t work. So now, we don’t really talk. I don’t get invited to family events. I think it’s better that way… I never really got along with my sisters.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice a quiet, genuine murmur.

Kaelis looked up at me then, really looked at me, and a slow, genuine smile transformed her face, chasing away the shadows of her past. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice soft. “I thought tonight was going to be another six hours of dodging nobles. Faking smiles while various mothers paraded their sons in front of me like prize turox. Each one hoping their boy would be the one to forge a profitable alliance with House D’vejin.”

A teasing grin spread across my face. “Oh? You’ve had your pick of all the eligible noble sons this whole time? I can’t imagine why you’d settle for me!”

Kaelis’s smile faltered, a flicker of insecurity clouding her golden eyes. “No,” she said, her voice dropping to a quiet, earnest whisper as her hand tightened on my arm. “Sten, I want you. Please…” The sudden vulnerability in her eyes caught me off guard.

I put my drink down on a nearby ledge, my own teasing grin dissolving into a look of concern. “Hey, hey,” I said quickly, pulling her into a hug and burying my head in the soft, warm curve of her neck. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. I want you too.”

She relaxed against me, a long, shuddering sigh escaping her lips. “Goddess,” she mumbled. “Those noble sons are all spoiled prima donnas. I couldn’t… no.” She felt so small in my arms, despite being a foot taller. I just held her, my hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, a silent promise that with me, she didn’t have to always be the strong one.

After a few moments, she pulled back just enough to look at me, a mischievous glint returning to her golden eyes. “Besides,” she teased, her voice a low purr. “I’m not the ‘paramour’. That’s you, Sten.”

I laughed, a real, open sound, and stepped back from her embrace. “Right. About that…” I began, my tone turning more serious. “Your mother owns Apex Connect, the company I work for. In my first week here, she invited me over for a ‘business dinner’. She… tried to get into my pants.”

Kaelis’s expression hardened, a flicker of something cold and familiar in her golden eyes. “That sounds like her,” she said, her voice a low, bitter murmur.

I watched Kaelis’s face carefully, worried about her reaction. “I didn’t want to be… intimate with her,” I said, my voice quiet. “She’s dangerous. So I begged off, said I’d had too much to drink. That’s why the bartenders won’t serve me tonight. She had… plans… for after this event. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of it.”

I took a breath. “I’m so glad you’re here. You have no idea. You saved me. If I’d just turned her down… who knows? She could have had me fired. And not just me - Tian, Bria, and Zyl too.” I let out a slow, shaky breath. “But then you walked in. Her daughter. It was the perfect escape.” I looked at her, my expression turning serious, apologetic. “I’m sorry for making such a public statement, for putting you on the spot like that. I hope that was okay.”

Kaelis just laughed, a bright, clear sound that was full of genuine amusement. “I liked that,” she said, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her face. “It was perfect. To be claimed like that… not as a political piece for House D’vejin, but just… as yours.” She took a sip of her drink, her golden eyes sparkling with a rebellious fire. “Mother will give me grief for it later, I’m sure. It’s a small price to pay for seeing the look on her face.” Her grin widened. “I’m sure it’s caused all sorts of gossip and delicious drama for her. And honestly? I don’t care at all.”

⸻

A comfortable, almost giddy, sense of freedom settled over us. Kaelis’s hand was a warm, firm presence in mine as we left our alcove and ventured back into the glittering, dangerous jungle of the ballroom. We became a two-person raiding party, descending upon the endless stream of Rakiri waiters with a focused, strategic hunger.

We plundered trays of canapés, delicate constructions of exotic meats and shimmering jellies. We intercepted amuse-bouches, single, perfect bites of flavour that exploded on the tongue. We laid siege to the antipasto platters and liberated entire columns of tapas. It was a delicious, silent rebellion against the stuffy formality of the evening.

Kaelis, now my official drink-runner, kept us supplied with a steady stream of Red-Grain. Her trips to the bar a small, repeated act of defiance against her mother’s orders. I, however, nursed my glass, taking small, deliberate sips. The Countess’s plans for the evening might have been defused, but I was still in enemy territory, and I wanted to keep my wits about me.

As we wandered, my arm looped through hers, I started to see the absurdity in the pomp and circumstance around us. I leaned in, my voice a low, conspiratorial murmur in her ear. “See that group over there?” I gestured with my glass towards a trio of stern-looking nobles, their faces set in masks of grim importance. “It’s a secret family shame, but they are all heavily invested in the Inter-System Competitive Granite Sculpting league.”

Kaelis looked at me, a flicker of amused confusion in her golden eyes.

“No, seriously,” I pressed on, my voice full of mock-sincerity. “The one in the middle, with the severe haircut? That’s Baroness Chi’sel. She’s here to negotiate a partnership with the S’harp house. They’re not talking politics. They’re having a quiet argument about the release of the new diamond-nanotube based chisel tips the S’harp family has developed. It will be a game-changer for Competitive Granite Sculpting, and they want an exclusive deal. It’s very controversial.”

A surprised snort of laughter escaped Kaelis. It was an undignified sound, and she immediately tried to smother it behind her hand. Her shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back a full giggle. “You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m just an observer of the truth,” I said with a solemn nod, snagging a passing meat-skewer from a waiter’s tray. My gaze shifted to another corner of the room, where a much older noblewoman was fawning over a young, ridiculously dressed Shil’vati male. “And him,” I said, pointing discreetly. “He’s not her boy-toy. He’s her bodyguard. I’m getting ‘disgraced Death’s Head Commando’ vibes. Probably kicked out for excessive brooding… The knives are a dead giveaway. I count sixteen. One is disguised as that decorative feather, three are woven into his cravat, and the other twelve are… well, let’s just say he’d better not sit down too quickly.”

Kaelis laughed, a bright, clear sound that drew a few curious glances from the nearby nobles. Then she continued the fantasy, getting into the groove of the game I’d started. “He’s secretly, hopelessly in love with her, but she’s completely oblivious. She just thinks he’s very, very good at standing menacingly in the background and looking tragic,” she added. I giggled, leaning into her, a silent, happy surrender to the absurdity of it all.

The evening continued its surreal, pleasant trajectory. Kaelis and I were a self-contained pair, ignoring the glittering sea of nobility. We continued our prowl, our hands linked. Our quiet conversation a world away from the political machinations and social posturing that filled the rest of the ballroom.

Occasionally, our bubble would be breached. A single noblewoman, or sometimes a pair, would detach themselves from the crowd and drift towards us. Their golden eyes fixed on me with a predatory curiosity. I did my best to avoid them, steering Kaelis in a different direction or suddenly becoming engrossed in a nearby ice sculpture. But sometimes, an encounter was unavoidable.

One young heiress, her dress a cascade of shimmering silver fabric layered to look like armor, cornered us near a towering floral arrangement. She introduced herself with a flourish, her title long and complicated, her smile practiced and sharp. Her gaze lingered on me, a slow, deliberate appraisal. “You must be the human I’ve heard so much about,” she purred, taking a small step closer. “They say your kind has… remarkable stamina. Perhaps you can go for a cruise with me on my private yacht around the star-system and we can find out?” Kaelis’s hand tightened on my arm, a silent, possessive squeeze.

Before she could direct another question to me, I gave her a polite, blank look. And said, in flawless, unaccented Shil, “Oh, I’ve always wanted to cruise around the star-system! But I’m sorry, I don’t speak Shil.”

The young noble’s practiced smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine disappointment. A shame, her expression seemed to say. Her smile returned, but now it was a patronizing, pitying thing. “OH, WHAT A SHAME,” she boomed, her voice unnaturally loud as if she were speaking to someone hard of hearing. “I HOPE. YOU HAVE. A WONDERFUL. EVENING.” With a final, pitying nod, she turned and swept away.

The moment she was out of earshot, Kaelis burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained sound that made my heart do a little flip. “That was terrible,” she giggled, leaning against me.

As the night wore on, the free-flowing drinks took their toll and the noble women grew bolder. The approaches became more frequent, their lines less subtle, their gazes more avaricious. The novelty of being a prized curiosity was wearing thin, replaced by a growing sense of being a piece of meat on display.

“Gentlemen and Ladies, if you would please make your way to the dining hall,” a clear, amplified voice announced. “Dinner is about to be served.”

I looked at Kaelis, at the way her own smile had become a little more strained. The light in her golden eyes dimming slightly at the prospect of the coming formality.

I leaned in, my voice a low, urgent whisper in her ear, cutting through the rising tide of polite chatter. “Do you really want to be here for this?” I asked, my gaze intense. “What do you say we make a break for it?”

Kaelis’s face lit up with relief. “Deep, yes,” she whispered. We made our way towards the entrance, our pace quickening with every step. I pulled out my data-slate, calling for an auto-ground-car.

Just as we reached the towering steel doors, one of the household staff, the same woman who had announced our arrival, stepped into our path. She gave a slight, formal bow. “Lady Kaelis,” she said, her voice polite but firm. “The Countess D’vejin has asked to see you before you depart.”

The happy relief on Kaelis’s face evaporated, replaced by a familiar, nervous tension. She turned to me, her golden eyes wide with worry. “I… I don’t want to leave you alone here,” she said, her voice a low, anxious murmur. “And I don’t think you should come with me to talk to Mother. How about… you head back to your apartment? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I smiled, my own disappointment at the delay overshadowed by a surge of anticipation. “Sure,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, suggestive purr. “I can’t wait to see you. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.” I gave her a look that left no doubt as to what I had in mind for when she arrived.

A deep blue blush flooded Kaelis’s cheeks. She leaned in to kiss me, a quick, desperate press of her lips against mine, before she seemed to remember where we were. She pulled back, her eyes darting around the now-empty entrance hall, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over her. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, her voice a little breathless. “But… please lock the door. I’ll knock when I get there.”

⸻

The ride home was quiet, the silent hum of the auto-ground-car a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the ballroom. The trip was quick, the colourful streets of Vor’s Scratch a blur outside the window. I already missed the warm, reassuring weight of Kaelis’s hand in mine.

I pulled out my data-slate, my thumbs flying across the screen, sending a message to Tian, Zyl and Bria.

Sten> Hey, I'm safe. Just heading home in an auto-car. Kaelis is going to be along shortly. Do you three have any plans for tomorrow?

Before I could get a reply, the car purred to a stop outside my apartment building. I put my slate away, jumped out, and headed inside. I locked the door firmly behind me, the heavy click of the deadbolt echoing in the quiet space.

I took off my jacket, draping it over the back of the couch. I thought about changing into something more comfortable, but the memory of Zyl and Bria’s reaction to the suit stopped me. I decided to keep it on, a small, private surprise for Kaelis when she arrived. I did, however, unbutton the top few buttons of my shirt, hoping to impress her.

I slumped onto the couch, pulling out my data-slate again to idly browse The Weave. The endless stream of local drama and mundane complaints was a welcome distraction. Just as I was starting to relax, I heard the soft click of the front door opening. Huh. That was quick. I hadn’t expected Kaelis for a while yet.

A wide, happy grin spread across my face. “Hey, babe,” I called out, my voice full of a warm, teasing welcome. “I’ll be right there.”

I started to push myself up from the couch, but a sudden, cold thought froze me in place. I was sure I had locked the door.

When I got to my feet and looked towards the entrance, my heart sped up and a spike of ice shot through my veins. It wasn’t Kaelis.

Standing in my doorway was the Countess’s driver. Her glossy black fur seemed to drink in the light, and her impeccably tailored suit spoke of a quiet, lethal professionalism. She stood with her feet planted slightly apart, a posture of perfect, balanced readiness. She wasn’t just a driver; she was a predator in a bespoke suit. Her amber eyes, calm and unblinking, were fixed on me, her expression giving nothing away.

I felt a sudden, sharp pang of vulnerability, acutely aware of my unbuttoned shirt. I quickly clutched the top of my shirt together, my fingers suddenly clumsy. “Um… ma’am?” I began, my voice a little rough. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Did you drive Kaelis home?” I added.

Her lip curled, a silent, predatory sneer that was more terrifying than any threat. She took a single, deliberate step forward, a fluid motion of coiled muscle under the expensive fabric of her suit. Then she launched herself at me.

It wasn’t a run, but a single, explosive leap. The world narrowed to the terrifying immediacy of her closing the distance in a single, blurring heartbeat. I had no time to react, no time to even process the attack before her body slammed into mine, a freight train of solid muscle and bone. The impact drove the air from my lungs in a sharp, painful gasp as my head cracked against the floor.

She landed on top of me, her weight pinning me to the floor, her knees bracketing my ribs in a brutal, vice-like grip. Then the punches started. There was no rage in them, just cold efficiency. They were fast, efficient, and utterly devastating. Her large, furred fists were like hammers, raining down on my face with a terrifying, metronomic rhythm.

I threw my arms up, trying to shield my head, but it was useless. Her blows crashed through my flimsy guard as if it weren’t even there. The first blow landed with a wet, meaty crack against my cheek. A blinding flash of white light exploded behind my eyes, and the world dissolved into a ringing, senseless hum.

Before I could recover, the next one landed squarely on the bridge of my nose. A sickening crunch echoed in my skull, a sound more felt than heard, and a firework of pure, white-hot agony erupted in my face. My eyes flooded with involuntary tears, and a hot, metallic gush of blood poured down my face and into the back of my throat, thick and choking.

The blows continued, relentless and brutal. I tried to fight back, throwing a few wild, desperate punches of my own, but they smacked ineffectively against her arms. Another punch landed on the side of my head, and my vision swam, the room tilting violently as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the assault stopped. The driver got off me, her movements fluid and unhurried. She reached down, her hand closing around the collar of my shirt, and hauled me to my feet as if I weighed nothing.

In the hazy stupor of pain, an absurd, detached thought floated through my mind: I was lucky she hadn’t used her claws. The thought was immediately followed by a choked, bloody cough as I tried to clear the blood from my mouth.

I stood there, wobbling, my legs threatening to give out from under me. Blood streamed down my face. A hot, sticky river that soaked the collar of my pristine, white, tailored shirt. Staining the expensive fabric a brilliant crimson.

Her free fist slammed into my stomach. The world collapsed as air whooshed out of my lungs, stolen in an instant. I tried to double over, but her grip on my collar held me upright. I stood there, a helpless puppet, as she began to systematically pummel my midsection. I was desperate for air, my mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, trying to suck in a breath through my swollen, bloody lips. But the blows kept coming, each one a fresh wave of nausea and pain.

Finally, a brutal uppercut snapped my head back, lifting me off my feet and sending me flying backwards. I slammed into the wall, the impact jarring every bone in my body. I slid down to the floor, my legs completely useless. A tangle of jelly-like limbs that refused to obey my commands. I ended up in a sitting position, slumped against the wall, my body one giant, throbbing bruise. Every ragged, desperate gasp for air was a fresh torment.

Through one unswollen, blurry eye, I watched as she calmly straightened the lapels of her suit, not a single hair out of place. She stalked over to me, her movements silent and deliberate, until she was standing over me, a towering, silhouetted figure of professional violence.

Then she stomped down on my leg.

I saw my leg bend in a way it was never meant to. I heard the bones snap before I felt it - a wet, splintering sound, like a thick branch breaking, that echoed in the sudden silence of the room. Then the agony hit, a white-hot, all-consuming fire that tore through my leg, so intense I felt like I could taste the pain. With what little breath I had managed to drag back into my lungs, I screamed. A raw, high-pitched sound of pure, unadulterated agony.

She did it again. And again. On the same leg. Each stomp a fresh explosion of pain, shattering the bone in multiple places, tearing the muscle.

Finally, she stepped back. She looked down at me, her face a mask of dispassionate appraisal, as if she were inspecting a piece of faulty machinery. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

I tipped over onto my side, the movement sending a fresh, sickening wave of pain through my mangled leg. My bloodied cheek was pressed against the cool, hard floor, a pool of red already spreading beneath me. I realized I was whimpering, a small, broken sound in the sudden, deafening silence.

Through the silence, I heard the soft, distinctive click of the apartment door closing. She pulled it shut gently, as if being careful not to wake a sleeping child.

⸻

Chapter 14 - Ensnared

A hospital has its own unique and terrible soundscape, a truth I was discovering held even off earth. It is a place devoid of silence. The air is never still, always filled with the ceaseless, rhythmic beeping of monitors and unpredictable shriek of alarms. The hurried, squeaking footsteps of nurses on polished floors. The weary shuffle of patients in the halls, and the hushed, urgent tones of doctors. Its unpredictable, and makes sleep a fantasy.

Consciousness returned slowly, a sluggish tide pulling me from a deep, dark ocean of nothingness. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been under; it could have been minutes or days. My first sensation was a dull, throbbing ache that seemed to emanate from every part of my body. A discordant chorus of pain with no single source. It was muted, like it was happening to someone else.

I was lying on my back, with my torso tilted up. In what I assumed was one of those always uncomfortable hospital beds. I was breathing through my mouth, and the air had a faintly antiseptic taste, tinged with something ozonic and alien. My nose wasn’t in agony anymore, but I couldn’t use it. I could hear the low, rhythmic beep of a monitor somewhere very nearby.

My left leg felt… strange. Encased in some kind of rigid brace, it was a heavy, numb weight, a foreign object that just happened to be attached to my hip. I could feel a warm hand holding one of mine, its grip gentle but firm. A furry anchor in the confusing sea of sensation.

I tried to open my eyes. It was a struggle, a crusty film broke away as they cracked open. My left was still swollen, but less than I remembered. The world a blurry, indistinct smear of light and shadow. I blinked a few times, and the room slowly swam into a semblance of focus.

Zyl was sitting in a chair beside the bed, her large frame a solid comforting presence. It was her hand holding mine. Her green eyes, usually so calm and steady, were wide with a mixture of worry and profound relief as she saw my eyes open.

Her grip on my hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance. I gave her hand a feeble tug, a weak plea for her to come closer. She understood immediately. Shifting in her chair, she leaned over me, her face close to mine, and pressed a soft, warm kiss to my cheek.

A wave of emotion washed over me. I tried to lift my other arm, to wrap it around her and pull her into a hug. But I was broken, my arm a tangle of wires and tubes tethering me to the beeping machines. She saw the attempted movement, the frustration clear in my eyes. Without a word, she rose and carefully, gracefully, crawled onto the bed beside me.

She settled her large frame around my smaller one, holding me with a gentleness that belied a possessive strength. It was only then that I realized how large the bed was, and how small I felt on it. I huddled into her embrace, reveling in the solid warmth of her body and the soft tickle of her fur against my skin. I breathed in deep, tasting her scent, a comforting aroma of musk and wilderness that was her.

A choked cry escaped my throat as my eyes started to tear up. The tears came freely then, a silent, hot cascade down my battered cheeks, soaking into her thick, soft fur. I don’t know how long I held her. Lost in the depths of pain, fear, and relief. Zyl just kept me close, a solid, unwavering presence. She murmured something, her voice a low, steady rumble against my ear, but I couldn’t make out the words. It didn’t matter. The sound was enough.

I wasn’t a fighter; I was a software engineer. A desk warrior. My battles were fought with elegant algorithms and efficient data structures. The only ‘fight’ I’d ever been in was a drunken shoving match outside a pub in my early twenties. I solved problems with logic and reason, not with fists. The sheer, brutal physicality of the attack - it was a violation. And it had shattered my body, and my fundamental understanding of how the world was supposed to work.

I wasn’t sure how long it took, but I calmed down. Zyl gently relaxed, not letting go but giving me a little more space on the bed. Across the room, Bria was slumped in a visitor’s chair, fast asleep. Her head was lolled to one side, her breathing deep and even, a picture of pure exhaustion.

My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. When I tried to speak, only a raw croak escaped. I swallowed, the motion painful, and tried again. “What… happened?”

Zyl’s voice was a quiet, gentle whispering rumble. A stark contrast to the storm of emotions in her eyes. She glanced over at Bria, not wanting to wake her.

“We don’t know much,” she whispered, her voice trembling on the last word. “Kaelis… she went to your apartment after the dinner. She found you.” Zyl’s throat worked. She held me a little tighter, holding herself back and trying to be gentle. “She found you broken. She called for help, called us. We came straight here.”

Her gaze drifted around the small, sterile room. “We’ve been taking shifts, we didn’t want to leave you alone. Tian and Kaelis just went home to have a shower and get some fresh clothes before coming back.”

I slumped back against the pillows, my thoughts a jumbled, disassociated mess. Would the Countess attack the girls too? Did she know about them? Was Kaelis safe? Had her mother done something to her after holding her back at the dinner? Wait no, Kaelis had found me. They were okay. I felt profound relief, they were safe.

“How long?” I rasped, my voice still a wreck.

“Almost a full day,” Zyl replied, her gaze returning to mine, her green eyes dark with the memory. “You were in surgery for your leg. The doctors said you’ll be in here for a bit yet…” She broke off, swallowing hard. “They had to… fix… some things. Your leg is broken… a lot. It’s in a brace while the bones fuse correctly.” She paused again, taking the time to stroke my arm with her free hand as she lay next to me. “They said you’ll need a cast for a while afterward, until the bone strengthens up.”

Her voice cracked, a raw, ragged sound. “They… they said you might walk with a limp, Sten,” she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Even after everything… the tissue damage was… extensive.” She paused for a moment, blinking away tears. “You have broken ribs,” she continued, her voice trembling, “and your nose… They thought your eye socket was fractured, but it was… just micro-fractures. The bruising… Sten.” She stopped, her jaw tight, and blinked several times, the corners of her eyes glistening. “Kaelis told us… she said the whole place smelled of it, metallic. Your blood… was everywhere… So much red.”

She took a shaky breath, composing herself with a visible effort. “The bruise gel is helping,” she continued, her voice steadying, as if seizing on a piece of good news. “But you’re going to need time to recover. A few more days here. Then weeks at home, just resting.”

The sound of our voices must have disturbed Bria. She startled awake, shooting up in her chair. Her amber eyes wide with a frantic, disoriented panic. Her gaze darted around the room before locking onto me. The moment our eyes met, a choked, guttural sound escaped her, and the frantic tension in her shoulders melted. A small, watery smile touched her lips.

Bria didn’t hesitate. She practically leaped across the small hospital room, her amber eyes shining with unshed tears. She threw her arms around me, her hug a mixture of desperate relief and gentle care. A sharp twinge of pain shot through my bruised ribs, but I grit my teeth against it, reveling in the simple comfort of her embrace. Zyl gently disentangled herself from me, swinging her long legs off the bed to give Bria space.

Bria pressed herself closer, burying my face in the soft fur of her chest. A deep purr rumbled through her, vibrating against my cheek. I would have appreciated the wonderful, furry face-boob, but every part of me ached. It wasn’t sexual, it was something far more primal. A pure, instinctual need to soothe.

Then, the damp, rasping texture of the tip of her tongue began to brush gently across my scalp. A surprised laugh hitched in my throat, instantly turning into a sharp gasp as my ribs screamed in protest. “It’s okay,” I managed, my voice raspy. “I’m sore, but I’m here. Thank you for being here, for looking after me.”

Reluctantly, she pulled back, but not before giving my head one last, long, affectionate lick. She dragged a visitor’s chair closer to the bed and took my tube-encrusted hand in both of hers, gently stroking the back of it.

While Bria settled in, Zyl quietly tapped at her data-slate. She looked up just as Bria took my hand, a smile on her face. “Tian and Kaelis are on their way,” she said, her voice a low, comforting rumble. “They said they’ll be here as soon as they can.”

I relaxed back against the pillows, a wave of exhaustion and relief washing over me. They were coming. We would all be together.

But as the initial relief subsided, a cold knot of anxiety began to form in my gut. My mind drifted back to the attack. The driver’s face, the brutal violence. And a question surfaced through the fog: Where were the militia? Where was the Interior? An assault on a male, this brutal? Someone should have been here asking questions. An assault this severe should have triggered an immediate investigation.

Zyl and Bria hadn’t asked any questions yet, their focus entirely on my immediate well-being. They were giving me space, I realized, a quiet, unspoken act of grace. But the questions would come. They had to. What could I possibly tell them? The truth was a dangerous, barbed thing. I had no concrete proof, but I knew that the Countess was behind this. It was a message, a brutal, unequivocal punishment for the public humiliation I had dropped on her.

But telling them meant telling Kaelis. How would I do that? ‘By the way, your mother had her pet goon assault me.’ How would she react when she heard that? Would she even believe me?

And Tian, Zyl and Bria, what would they do? They worked for her. Hell, I still officially worked for her. Quit their jobs in protest?

Maybe they would all confront the Countess and risk her wrath themselves? The thought of putting them in that position, of making my problem their burden, was unthinkable. But the alternative, lying, felt just as wrong. These women, who had sat by my bedside for countless hours. Zyl’s fur was still wet from my tears. They had offered me a sense of safety and belonging I hadn’t realized I was so desperate for… they deserved the truth.

My thoughts were slow and sluggish, a thick, syrupy fog that was no doubt a side effect of whatever painkillers they were pumping into me. The dilemma felt too large, too complex for my battered mind to handle. Maybe… maybe I could just put it off for a little while longer. Just until my head was a little clearer.

The door swished open, pulling me from the murky spiral of my thoughts. A Rakiri nurse with kind eyes came into the room, her movements quiet and efficient. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said with a gentle smile. “That’s good to see.” She turned to Zyl and Bria. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave for a little while. The doctor will be in shortly to run some tests.”

“No,” I said, my voice rough. “They can stay. I don’t care what the test is, I want them here.”

At my words, the tails of the two Rakiri girls gave a series of happy, thumping wags against the chairs they were sitting on. Zyl squeezed my hand. Bria hadn’t stopped squeezing it.

The nurse’s professional smile didn’t waver. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s a delicate procedure. There’s a waiting room just down the hall. I’ll come and get you as soon as we’re finished.”

Zyl squeezed my hand again, a silent, grounding pressure. “It’s okay, Sten,” she said, her voice a low, reassuring murmur. “We’ll be right outside. You can message us on your data-slate if you need anything.”

A cold, childish panic seized my chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of the door closing, of being alone, was terrifying. But some stupid, ingrained part of my brain screamed that I was the man here. Wasn’t I? I was supposed to be the strong one, the one who didn’t need coddling. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gave them a reluctant, jerky nod.

Zyl’s hand reluctantly slipped from mine, warmth lingering for a second before it vanished. Bria’s grip tightened for a moment, a small, desperate squeeze. She leaned in close, her breath a warm puff against my ear, the soft fur of her cheek brushing against my bruised skin. “My darling Sten,” she whispered. Then she was gone too, her hand slipping from mine. They filed out of the room, leaving me alone with the steady beeping of the monitor.

⸻

A few minutes later, the door slid open again, but it wasn’t a doctor. Countess Ya’neis D’vejin swept into the room, her presence instantly making the sterile space feel smaller, colder. She placed a small, sleek device on the bedside table. A low, almost inaudible hum filled the air.

My hand instinctively reached for my data-slate on the other table, sending message to Zyl. A No Connection error appeared.

“Don’t bother,” the Countess said, her voice a silken purr that sent a chill down my spine. “This is a very expensive little device. Usually, only Interior agents on special assignments can acquire them. It blocks all recording and data-net connections. We wouldn’t want any interruptions, would we?”

Her gaze drifted down, a slow, deliberate appraisal of my broken body. She took in the bulky brace encasing my shattered leg, the clear tubes snaking from my arm, connected to bags of fluids, the rhythmic beep of the monitor beside me, and the patchwork of bruises on my face. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face. I tried to sink deeper into the thin hospital mattress, a futile attempt to escape her looming presence.

“You poor, lost little boy,” she cooed. “You could have been so well looked after if you’d just been a good little pet. But you had to be a bad little boy, didn’t you?”

I didn’t reply. There was nothing to be gained by talking to her. I just stared at her, my hands clenching into tight fists. Despite the thin hospital blanket and gown, I felt naked. My jaw tight with a rage that was so potent it was almost a physical taste in my mouth. Let her speak.

“It’s a big galaxy for such a small man to be all alone,” she said, her voice a silken thread of condescension. The words were an eerie echo of Kaelis’s from that first night at the munch, but where her daughter had been a nervous girl fumbling with the role she was trying to play, this was no act. Each word was laced with a possessive, predatory venom that made my stomach clench. “I still could be good to you,” she purred, “if you learn to behave.”

She leaned in closer, her golden eyes glinting. “I’ve bought and paid for you, Sten. You can look for another job all you wish. None of the other dating apps on this planet will hire you. I’ve made sure of that. And the tech startups?” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “The building the Apex offices are in? I own it. I’ve let it be known to all tenants that if they so much as book an interview with you, their rent will triple overnight.”

“I will make it my personal mission to see you fired from any position you find. I will buy out contracts, I will ruin careers. I will do whatever it takes. Because you are mine, Sten,” she finished, a slow, possessive smirk spreading across her face as she leaned toward me. “And I do not share.”

She straightened up, smoothing down the front of her immaculate dress. “So, you will recover from your little ‘accident’,” she said, her voice turning cold and hard. “You will get back to work. You will stop this foolishness with my daughter.” She paused for a moment, a look of resigned annoyance passing over her face. “Let her down gently. But once you’ve recovered and I come to Vors, I expect my little human stiffy to be up and ready to fulfill all of his duties.”

“And don’t bother looking for a new apartment. I’ve already taken care of that, stay where you are. At least until I’ve finished with you,” she said, leering at me.

“After all, you need to focus on recovering. You’ll need all of your famed human stamina.” She saw the fury in my eyes, the white-knuckled grip of my fists. A slow, cruel smirk touched her lips. “That’s it,” she purred. “Get it all out. It will make our next meeting so much more… enjoyable.”

“I will see you again, Sten,” she stated, her voice calm and steady, a smirk on her face. A mockery of the words I once said to her.

And with that, she turned and swept out of the room, turning off the humming device and picking it up. Leaving me alone with a rage so profound it felt like it could burn the whole world down.

⸻

The door to my room crashed open, and Kaelis, Zyl, Bria, and Tian rushed in. Their faces a mixture of panic and concern. “We just got your message!” Kaelis said, her voice tight with worry. “What happened? Are you…”

Her words died in her throat as she saw my face. The rage was still there, a cold, hard knot in my chest. My eyes found Kaelis. I didn’t think before I spat out, “Your bitch mother was just here.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth.

Kaelis just looked confused. “Mother? What’s she got to do with…” her voice trailed off as she took in the raw anger in my expression.

The sight of her innocent confusion was a bucket of ice water on my rage. She didn’t know. Of course, she had no idea what had happened. The anger drained out of me, replaced by guilt and exhaustion. I’d just hurt her, lashed out at her for something she had no part in.

Tian, who was normally a whirlwind of energy and chaos, was unnervingly still. Her usual wide grin was gone. Her expression a mixture of concern and a fierce, protective energy. Her tail, which was often thumping an excited rhythm against her leg, was rigid, held low in a clear sign of aggression. “Sten,” she said, her voice quiet and firm. “What happened? Why was Countess D’vejin here?”

I slumped back against the pillows, the fight going out of me. It was too late. The words were out, a poison I couldn’t suck back. I was going to have to tell them, probably.

“I’m sorry, Kaelis,” I whispered, my voice raw. “I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have.” I looked at her, then to Tian, who was standing beside her, a mirror of confused concern. “Come here,” I pleaded softly. “Please.” I reached out a hand, the movement clumsy and restricted by the IV line taped to my arm.

Kaelis and Tian moved closer. I tried to take their hands, my fingers fumbling, creating a tangle of warm skin, soft fur, and cold plastic tubing.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t name. My gaze moved from one worried face to the next. “Thank you all for being here with me. For…”

“Sten, please.” Tian interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. “Stop trying to protect us and just tell us.”

I hesitated, the weight of the truth was a heavy burden. “I’m in some trouble,” I said, my voice low. “With… powerful people. Are you sure you want to be involved in this? You could all walk away right now.” I stopped, swallowing down my feelings. I could get on a transport and just leave Dirt. I’d lose them, even the thought of that made my heart hurt. But they’d be safe and free of my problem. “I wouldn’t blame you,” I finished.

The girls exchanged a look. Zyl muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like, “dumb human thing.”

It was Tian who spoke up again with uncharacteristically serious resolve. “Sten,” Tian said, her voice a low growl of defiance. “You don’t get it. When you’re in a pack, you don’t face threats alone.”

The other three nodded in solemn agreement. Kaelis reached out, her hand finding Tian’s in a gesture of silent solidarity.

“Okay,” I said, my voice cracking on the single word. My eyes threatened to burn with fresh tears. I was light-years from Earth, a lone human. Who had spent his life moving from place to place, always keeping a safe distance. I’d come to Dirt to be a stranger in a strange land. But in that small, sterile hospital room, surrounded by these fierce, loyal women. I realized with a startling clarity that for the first time in a very, very long time, I wasn’t alone. I had a pack.

And so, I told them everything. I started with the first dinner with the Countess in her apartment, her predatory advances. I told them about the post on The Weave, about the men being assaulted, and my confrontation with Xyla. Tian, Bria, and Zyl nodded along with that.

I told them about the formal dinner party, and how I had publicly humiliated the Countess. Kaelis interrupted then, her voice a pained whisper. “Did I cause….this?” she gestured at my broken body, choking out the last word. “Maybe… maybe I can talk to her?”

“Please,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “Let me finish. But you need to know. You did not do this. I want you Kaelis. You are part of this pack.” Bria, Zyl, and Tian all nodded, their expressions a mixture of fierce loyalty and grim determination.

I continued, my voice low and flat as I recounted the rest of the night. Leaving the party, the Countess’s driver entering my locked apartment. The brutal, systematic beating that followed. I didn’t go into details. I didn’t need to, They had ample evidence of the results.

The reactions were a silent, violent storm of emotion. Kaelis’s face was a mask of guilt. Zyl’s hands clenched, her claws extending like she was about to swipe at a threat. Her face a mask of cold, controlled rage, a low, deep growl sounded from her chest. Tian’s expression was grim, calculating, her teeth bared in a silent snarl. Bria just looked incredibly upset, her hand unconsciously reaching out towards me as she physically shifted her body, trying to shield me from the memory of the attack, the hackles on the back of her neck raised.

Finally, I told them about the nurse, the jamming device, and the Countess’s visit to my hospital bed. “She told me,” I said, my voice flat, “that I was to ‘stop this foolishness with my daughter’.” At her mother’s direct words, Kaelis’s eyes glistened with fresh tears, her face a heartbreaking picture of hurt and fear.

My grip as tight as my weakened state would allow on her hand. I looked her directly in the eye. “You are mine,” I said, my voice a low, croaky growl, a fierce promise. “I will not give you up.”

Kaelis let out a choked, broken sob. “I should have been there,” she choked out, her fists clenching so tightly her knuckles went white. “I should have ignored her. I knew… I knew something was wrong. Oh Goddess, Sten…” Her voice shattered, devolving into a raw, guttural sob. “This is my fault.”

A surge of adrenaline, fueled by a desperate need to comfort her, shot through me. I moved without thinking, trying to sit up, but a jagged bolt of agony erupted from my ribs. I tried to push myself up anyway, to get to her, to hold her.

A furry hand pressed gently but firmly against my chest, stopping me. “Sten, no,” Bria whispered, her voice full of a gentle, quiet authority.

Zyl and Tian moved as one, their large frames bracketing Kaelis, wrapping her in a cocoon of fur and muscle. They pulled her into a tight, all-encompassing hug, their silent strength a physical manifestation of the pack’s support.

I slumped back against the pillows, a wave of helpless frustration washing over me. I wanted to be holding her too, comforting her. “Hey,” I called out, my voice a desperate rasp. “Hey, no. You couldn’t have known. This isn’t on you.”

I looked from Kaelis’s tear-streaked face to the fierce, protective expressions of the other three. My voice dropped to a low, dangerous rasp, each word a shard of glass. “Your mother did this,” I growled, ignoring the fire in my own chest. “She is at fault. She’s the fucking cunt who did this.”

I took a ragged breath, my gaze softening as I looked at Kaelis, my heart aching with a fierce, protective love. “Please, Kaelis,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Come here. Come to me. Be with me. I need you. I need all of you. I don’t want to be alone.”

Kaelis moved first. She surged forward, her movements clumsy in the cramped space, and practically fell into my arms. It was an awkward embrace. My bruised ribs screamed in protest, and the brace on my leg made it impossible for her to get truly close. But none of that mattered. I wrapped my good arm around her, holding on as tightly as I could, burying my face in the soft, clean scent of her hair.

The other three closed in around us, their presence a solid wall of support. Zyl and Tian rested their hands on Kaelis’s shaking shoulders, while Bria’s smaller hand came to rest on my arm, her touch a gentle, reassuring pressure. We stayed like that for a long moment, a broken, huddled pack in the sterile quiet of the hospital room.

When we finally broke apart, the air was thick with unspoken emotions. I looked at Kaelis. Her eyes were blue-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears, her face a mask of raw, painful guilt. “What did she say to you?” I asked, my voice a rough whisper. “After I left the dinner thing.”

Kaelis took a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the thin hospital blanket that covered me. “She made me wait,” she said, her voice tight, strained. “For almost an hour. I was just left in a room, waiting. I don’t know what she was doing. Finally, one of the staff came and showed me into a private meeting room. Mother was just sitting there, sipping her wine.”

She swallowed hard, her jaw clenching as she fought for control. “When she finally acknowledged me, she just smiled. That cold, polite smile she uses when she’s about to be cruel.” Kaelis’s voice trembled, threatening to break. “She just said, ‘I hope you enjoyed your evening, daughter,’ and then she dismissed me.”

Her expression tightened, the memory a fresh, raw wound. “I knew something was wrong. I ran. I called an auto-ground-car. I got to your apartment and the door was… unlocked. I called your name. When you didn’t answer… I saw the blood first. So much blood…” Her voice finally shattered, the memory too much to bear as the words dissolved into a choked, ragged whisper.

Zyl and Tian moved in again, their arms wrapping around her shoulders. Their deep, rumbling voices murmuring soft words of comfort in the gruff cadence of the Rakiri tongue. I just watched, a wave of helpless fury washing over me.

The fury receded, leaving a cold, hard resolve in its wake. Kaelis, still held in the comforting embrace of Zyl and Tian, took a series of long, shuddering breaths. She gently disentangled herself from the other two, not pushing them away, but creating a small space for herself. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, her movements full of a newfound purpose.

When she finally looked up, her golden eyes were still wet, but I could see her trying to force down the guilt and pain. She was still hurting, that much was obvious, but she was choosing to be strong. For me. For the pack. It felt like watching a father trying to be strong for his family after a tragedy. Very masculine, or I guess feminine?

I let the silence settle for a moment before I spoke, my voice hard. “What did the nurses say when you brought me in? Did the militia come? Has anyone investigated this?”

Four heads shook in unison, a silent, grim denial.

A cold dread trickled down my spine, chilling me more than any painkiller could numb. “Then let’s report it now,” I said, my voice flat and determined. I nodded towards my data-slate on the bedside table. “Call the militia. Put it on speaker.”

Zyl picked up the slate, her large fingers navigating the interface with a surprising deftness. A few moments later, a calm, professional female voice filled the room. “Vor’s Scratch Militia, Officer H’ret speaking. How may I assist you?”

“I’d like to report an assault,” I said, my voice clear and steady despite the throbbing in my head. “My name is Sten Pallisen. Imperium ID…” I rattled off the long string of numbers and letters.

There was a soft clicking sound from the other end of the line as the officer accessed my file. “Ah, yes. Mr. Pallisen. I have your file right here.” Her voice was still maddeningly calm. “It says here that you were admitted to the Vor’s Central Hospital last night with injuries sustained from a fall.”

“A fall?” I repeated, my voice incredulous. “No, that’s not what happened. I was attacked. In my apartment.”

“I see,” the officer said, her tone unchanging. “But the report here, filed this morning, includes your statement. It says you slipped on a patch of ice outside your building and fell down the stairs.”

“That’s impossible,” I said, my frustration mounting. “I was unconscious. I only woke up an hour ago. I haven’t given a statement to anyone.”

“Well, Mr. Pallisen,” the officer said, her voice taking on a patronizing, by-the-book tone. “The statement has your ImpID-stamp. As far as the system is concerned, you made it.”

“Can I change it?” I asked, my voice tight. “I want to change my statement. I was assaulted.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Well, no, sir. Once a report is entered into the system, it’s immutable. You can file an additional statement, as is your legal right. But I should advise you, having contradictory statements on file… it won’t look good for any future case.”

The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air. It’ll make me look like a liar.

I stared at the data-slate, the calm, unhelpful voice of the militia officer a perfect representation of the invisible, unbreachable wall I was up against. “Thanks,” I said finally, my voice a hollow echo of my earlier determination. With a tap, Zyl ended the call, plunging the room back into a heavy, suffocating silence.

A low growl rumbled in Tian’s chest. “That’s bullshit!” she snarled, slamming a fist against the wall with a dull thud. “We’ll go down there. We’ll make them listen!”

Kaelis, however, looked pale. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, her eyes wide with a fear that went beyond the assault itself. “You can’t. It’s her. It’s my mother.”

⸻

Chapter 15 - Refuge

A truth settles in your bones after trauma, a cold, heavy thing that has nothing to do with painkillers. It’s the knowledge that your world can shatter on a whim. An assault in your own home. A vehicle jumping the curb. The sudden, gutting loss of a loved one.

You obsess over it. You replay it. Again. And again. And each time you imagine what you could have done differently. What you could have done to stop it, to change it. Eventually, you come to a realization; there was nothing you could do.

Most of us navigate life wrapped in the comforting illusion of agency. That we have some control over what happens day-to-day. You come to realize that this agency is an illusion. At any time, a stray particle of cosmic radiation or a malicious user with admin privileges can corrupt the file of your existence. That sense of vulnerability, of fear, of powerlessness persists.

It created a desperate, clawing need for my girls, my pack. I craved the grounding reality of their presence. The warmth of fur against my skin, the scent of Kaelis’s hair, the steady rhythm of their breathing. I needed to know that I wasn’t alone.

The following days passed in the strange, timeless limbo of a hospital. Time stretched and compressed, measured not in hours, but in the shift changes of the nurses. The arrival of bland meal trays, and the steady, monotonous beep of the monitor. Hospitals are boring at the best of times, but my boredom was laced with a cold, simmering fear. The Countess had shown me she could get to me anywhere, even here.

I never saw that nurse again. I asked the next nurse that came in. “The other nurse,” I said, my voice still rough. “The one who was here when I woke up. Soft fur, kind eyes?”

The nurse just gave me a puzzled look, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know anyone on this ward like that, Mr Pallisen? Maybe she was a temp,” she said, her tone professional but dismissive. No one knew who I was talking about. A cold tendril of fear snaked its way down my spine.

A dozen times, the words to send the girls home rose in my throat, but they always died there. Back on Earth, even after the Invasion it had still been for the most part a man’s world. I’d never had to think twice about walking home alone at night, never had to clutch my keys in my fist. That constant, low-level hum of vulnerability that was the background radiation of many human women’s lives. It was something I’d only ever understood academically. A data point in a sociological study I might read. Now, I was feeling it in my bones.

The girls seemed to understand this without me having to say a word. One or two of them were with me at all times, a rotating guard of fierce, furry and purple loyalty. Kaelis would leave for practice, her face a mask of reluctance. Only to be replaced by Tian or Zyl, fresh from a ‘sudden illness’ at work.

That evening brought Torka and Lyra. They arrived bearing gifts: a potted plant that looked suspiciously like a Venus flytrap. And a greasy paper bag that smelled divinely of baked pastry and spiced meat.

“The best pies in Vors,” Lyra declared with a proud grin. Since Kaelis didn’t have a game, the whole pack was assembled. My small hospital room was suddenly, wonderfully, full. They crowded around the bed. A chaotic, comforting mass of purple skin and colourful fur, their cheerful chatter a welcome antidote to the sterile quiet.

The room filled with the sounds of happy munching and the rustle of greasy paper as we chowed down on the pastries. It was a welcome change from what passed as food in this place. A truth, it seemed, that held across galaxies: hospital food sucked. I took a bite of my own pie, the savory filling and flaky pastry a small escape from the hospital’s sterile environment. I was sure I was getting crumbs all over the sheets, but that was a problem for tomorrow’s nurse.

Lyra chattered away happily, making fun of the bland walls and suggesting increasingly outlandish ways to redecorate the room. She went quiet when Torka spoke up.

“So,” Torka said, her deep voice a comforting rumble as she settled into a chair. “What happened to you?”

I kept it simple. “Got beat up,” I said with a painful shrug. “Kaelis found me.”

The giggly, fun-loving Lyra I knew was gone, replaced by someone else. Her face, usually full of easy-going amusement, was now sharp and assessing. “You’re holding back,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “What really happened, Sten?”

I looked at her, then at Torka, whose green eyes were steady and serious. “Yeah, you’re right,” I sighed. “I’m trying to protect you. There’s… some nobility stuff going on.”

A flash of utter fury crossed Lyra’s face, her fists clenching, before a chillingly blank mask snapped into place. I would have laughed, but this was a Lyra I’d never seen before. I was surprised.

Lyra looked at Torka, a silent conversation passing between them. Torka’s gaze shifted from me to the other two women in the room. Her eyes, calm and green, met Zyl’s, then Tian’s. It wasn’t a hostile look, but it was an assessment, a weighing.

Zyl met Torka’s gaze without hesitation, her own expression calm and steady. “He’s Pack,” she said, her voice a low, definitive rumble. Beside her, Tian gave a sharp, emphatic nod, her jaw set in a line of fierce agreement. Bria, who had been hovering near the bed, simply nodded, her hand coming to rest on my uninjured leg in a silent, supportive gesture. Kaelis, who had already scooted onto the bed to be beside me, tightened her arm around my shoulders. Pressing herself against my side in a silent, possessive claim.

A flicker of understanding, and perhaps respect, crossed Torka’s face. I didn’t know what any of that meant, but it felt like a promise, a commitment. Torka looked back at Lyra, and gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“Okay,” Lyra said, turning back to me. Her voice now stripped of all its usual levity, replaced by a cold, professional focus. “Sten, I deal with nobles every day. It’s my job. Most of the contracts I write involve them. I know how they operate. I know the games they play.” She leaned forward, her gaze intense. “Torka and I want to help. We know what we’re getting into, and we’re not afraid. But you need to tell us everything. Every single detail.”

I took a breath, and I started to talk. Telling my, our, story.

As I spoke, the Lyra I knew vanished. She didn’t fidget or offer sympathy; she just listened, her posture perfectly still, her gaze intense and analytical. Her interruptions weren’t for comfort but for clarity. Sharp, precise questions that cut to the heart of the matter. Forcing me to recall details I hadn’t realized were important. The giggly, gossip-loving friend was gone, and in her place sat a corporate lawyer.

When I finally finished, the silence that fell was heavy, profound. No one moved. No one spoke.

Lyra just nodded once. She was quiet for a long, long time, her gaze distant. Her mind clearly processing, analyzing, strategizing. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside.

Finally, she pulled out her data-slate. Her fingers moved across the screen with a quick, decisive efficiency, tapping out a series of commands. After a few moments, she looked up, her gaze sweeping over each of us in turn.

“I want you all to become clients of mine,” she said, her voice calm, steady, and utterly devoid of its usual cheerful lilt. “Right now. This creates attorney-client privilege. It’s a shield, and it means I can launch claims on your behalf. I need you to sign this client contract with your ImpID.”

I just shrugged, a small, weary gesture of surrender and trust. I grabbed my slate. Without a word, she held hers out, and I tapped it against the cool screen. A soft chime confirmed the transfer, and the dense legalese of a client contract filled my display. I sighed and skipped to the end where I pressed my thumb to the screen, my Imperium ID flashing as it authenticated the contract.

The other girls didn’t hesitate. One by one, they followed my lead, their own data-slates chiming as they signed, their faces a mixture of grim determination and a quiet curiosity.

Lyra looked up from her slate, her face still a mask of cool, professional detachment. Her gaze swept over us, pausing on each face in turn, a silent, assessing weight.

“Alright,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet tension of the crowded room. “Now that we’re all on the same side, legally speaking, there’s a question that needs to be answered.” She looked from me to the girls, my pack. “What is the most important outcome here?”

Tian, who had been simmering with a quiet, furious energy, spoke up. Her voice was a low, guttural growl, a sound of pure, unrestrained hatred. “I want that cunt to suffer.”

Zyl’s agreement was a low, dangerous growl, her claws flexing unconsciously. Bria’s was a pained whisper of “Yes.” Kaelis just gave a single, sharp nod, her face a mask of cold fury and familial betrayal.

“I want us to be free of her,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I want us to be safe. To be able to live our lives without looking over our shoulders.”

Lyra’s gaze flickered between my face and Tian’s, a silent acknowledgment of the two paths that lay before us. “Which is more important?” she asked, her voice calm and steady, forcing the choice. “Freedom… or Vengeance?”

“Freedom,” I answered instantly, the word a raw, desperate plea.

The girls looked at me, then at each other. A silent, lightning-fast conversation passed between them. It was in the flicker of their ears, the almost imperceptible shift in their posture. Kaelis tilting her head, a subtle change in the set of their jaws. It was a language I couldn’t speak, but I could feel the debate. The weighing of options, the raw, visceral desire for revenge warring with the cold, hard logic of survival.

“Just freedom isn’t enough,” Tian growled, her fists clenching.

Zyl put a calming hand on her arm. “It is for now,” she rumbled, her voice low but firm. “We get Sten safe. We get free. Then we plan.”

Tian looked from Zyl to me, the fire in her eyes banking to a low, simmering coal. Finally, she gave a single, sharp nod. The others followed suit, their expressions grim but resolved.

Lyra watched them, her expression unreadable. When the last nod was given, a flicker of something – approval? relief? – crossed her face. “Good,” she said, the single word a final, definitive seal on our chosen path.

The professional mask on Lyra’s face didn’t vanish, but it shifted. A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. “Oh, this is good,” she murmured, her voice holding the thrill of discovery. “You must have really pissed her off.”

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with a conspiratorial glee. “She fucked up. The attack on you, covering it up with the Militia and the Interior, her little stunt in the hospital… all of that cost her a lot of wealth and influence. She doesn’t own the Militia in Vors, or the Interior. She had to bribe them, expend favors. A lot of them.”

Her grin faded slightly, becoming more of a sharp, analytical smile. “Legally, we probably can’t tie any of this back to her directly. She’s covered her tracks well, got in early with the false report. It’s her word, backed by documents, against yours. And you’re… well, you’re a human male with no status.” She paused, letting the harsh reality sink in. “But what she did was impulsive. And costly. Nobles play a long game, Sten. They build networks, they trade favors. What she did was spend a huge amount of that political capital on a single, emotional reaction.”

Lyra’s sharp, analytical smile remained, but her eyes lost their conspiratorial glee, replaced by a cold, hard focus. “It may have cost her,” Lyra continued, her voice dropping to a low and serious tone. “But don’t misunderstand. If the Countess wants to spend all her power and resources to ruin you, Sten, to hurt all of you… she can. No one will stop her.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of Lyra’s words pressing down on us.

“But,” Lyra said, her voice cutting through the quiet, “it would prove to everyone that she is weak. That she couldn’t control you. For her to go on a rampage against you all… it would be a declaration of her failure. That has a reputational damage cost for a noble. It would follow her for years.”

“So, if you want to be safe,” Lyra concluded, her gaze sweeping over each of us in turn, “you need to increase the cost of her coming after you. Make it so expensive, so politically damaging, that even she will think twice.”

“How do we do that?” I asked, my voice a rough whisper.

Tian, who had been listening with a coiled, furious intensity, slammed her fist on the edge of my hospital bed. The frame rattled, and I winced as a jolt of pain shot through my bruised ribs. “I’ll tell you how,” she snarled, her voice a low, guttural growl of pure, unadulterated hatred. “I will never work for that fucking boy-basher again.”

Zyl and Bria nodded in sharp, grim agreement. I looked at them, at their fierce, unwavering loyalty, and a cold, hard resolve settled in my own chest. “I’ll never write another line of code for her,” I said, my voice quiet but firm.

The declaration hung in the air, a shared, irrevocable vow. Lyra, however, remained calm. Her professional demeanor a steady anchor in the emotional storm. “We can make that happen,” she said, her voice a quiet, confident assertion. “But first, you need protection.”

Her gaze shifted to me, her eyes sharp and analytical. “Protection means finding a bigger predator. Sten, you got here via the ISRP, right?”

The sudden change of topic was jarring. I looked at her, completely baffled, not understanding the segue. I nodded slowly. “Yeah. The Inter-System Reassignment Program. I think the Countess must have bribed someone to get me ‘randomly picked’ to get me moved to Dirt.”

Lyra nodded, a flicker of confirmation in her eyes. “Yeah, she almost definitely did. But the Interior runs that program, not the Countess. What’s its purpose? It’s a propaganda tool for them, isn’t it? To show the galaxy how well humans are integrating into the Imperium?”

Around me, the girls’ expressions mirrored my own confusion. I just nodded, completely lost as to where Lyra was going with this.

Lyra’s sharp, lawyerly smile returned, a flash of the deep sea predator.

“So,” she said, leaning in, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. “What if we give them a success story? A poster boy for the ISRP. Imagine the headlines. A human man relocated to Dirt, finds love. He doesn’t just integrate; he forms a pack.” She leaned back, a smile playing on her lips. “How loudly do you think the Interior would celebrate that story across the entire Imperium?”

“They would pour credits into it,” Lyra continued, her eyes gleaming with the possibilities. “We’re talking full-spectrum - Ads showing your faces, smiling and happy. Endless news articles and fawning opinion pieces about the triumph of inter-species harmony. It would be very difficult for the Countess to touch you without bringing the entire weight of the Interior’s PR machine down on her head.”

“What? But… we’re already a pack?” I asked, my voice rough. The idea was still so new, so fragile in my mind. And yet so important.

Lyra’s sharp, lawyerly smile didn’t waver. “Make it formal,” she said, her voice a cool, decisive counterpoint to my uncertainty. “Legal. Form a Provisional Family Unit.”

“What’s that?” I asked, completely lost.

It was Bria who answered, her voice a soft, breathless whisper that was full of a sudden, hopeful light. “It means we promise to get married.”

The silence that followed Bria’s words was so sudden that the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor beside me seemed to hammer against my eardrums. A stark counterpoint to the sudden, frantic fluttering in my own chest.

Married? The word echoed in the chambers of my mind. It was a foreign concept. It was absurd. I, the man who had spent his life running from commitment… It was the one thing I never thought I’d be. I looked at my girls, my pack, my gaze sweeping from one stunned face to the next.

Kaelis, who had been a warm, solid presence beside me on the bed, went rigid. She froze completely, her body a statue of tense, coiled muscle. She wouldn’t look at me. I could feel the tremor that ran through her.

Across the room, Tian’s reaction was just as stark. The furious, righteous anger that had been radiating from her in waves was just… gone. Snuffed out like a candle flame. She stood there, her mouth slightly agape, her usual boisterous energy vanished. Replaced by a stillness so absolute it was unnerving. She just stared at me, unblinking.

Zyl, however, was an island of calm. She watched me, her expression blank for a long moment. Then, a slow, deliberate smile began to spread across her face. It wasn’t a smile of mirth or amusement; it was the satisfied, calculating smile of a master huntress who had just seen the perfect, elegant trap spring shut. I was the one caught in the trap. I was ok with that.

Bria’s gaze settled on me, a longing filled them that was so powerful I could taste it. Her tail found its rhythm, a slow, happy, almost shy wag.

I looked from one to the next, my own mind a chaotic jumble of fear and a strange, burgeoning hope. “Um,” I began, my voice rough and uncertain. “So… do you want to form a proto-pack, officially? Sign the paperwork, or something?” I managed a weak, lopsided grin. “You can always leave when you find out I leave the toilet seat up.”

Lyra let out a short, sharp giggle, breaking the tense silence. Zyl just sighed, a sound of fond exasperation, and closed her eyes for a moment.

Tian, however, exploded. “What?!” she yelped, her voice a mixture of shock and outrage. “You can’t just… that’s not how it works! It’s the woman who asks, not the man!”

Before I could even process that new, bewildering piece of cultural etiquette, Kaelis moved. She let out a small noise and squeezed her arm around me, her grip surprisingly tight. And giving me a long kiss on the cheek. Across the room, Bria just nodded, a single, emphatic movement, her amber eyes sparkling.

Lyra held up a hand, cutting through the emotional chaos. “Look,” she said, her voice calm and authoritative. “Do this properly later. It’s just an idea for now. A strategy.”

Everyone seemed to take a collective, steadying breath, the initial shock of the proposal giving way to a more practical sense of purpose. I let out a slow breath of my own, the adrenaline beginning to fade, leaving a cold, hard knot of doubt in its place.

“What’s stopping the Countess from just blocking this story?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over them. “If she can get Weave posts pulled, couldn’t she stop a story like this? Or use her connections at the Interior, the ones that got me into the ISRP in the first place?”

Lyra’s sharp, lawyerly smile was a predatory flash in the sterile light of the hospital room. She met my doubtful gaze, her own eyes alight with a cold, calculating confidence. “She probably could,” Lyra admitted, her voice a calm, dismissive wave of her hand. “If we go to the media here on Dirt, or if we tried to go through the local Interior office. She’s not a big player on Dirt, but she has connections here that she could probably leverage. It’d be expensive for her, but possible.”

“But we’re not going to do that,” she continued, a sly, triumphant glint in her eyes. “We’ve got time. Your ‘accident’,” she said, the word dripping with a sarcastic venom. “bought us time. The Countess wants you to recover, remember? She has… plans… for you.”

A collective, low growl rumbled from the Rakiri in the room at her words. Kaelis just flinched, her arm tightening.

Lyra ignored them, her focus entirely on me. “I’m not going to talk to anyone on this planet,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur. “I’m going to go straight to the top. To the head of the Inter-System Reassignment Program. She’s not some two-bit, mid-level Countess scrabbling for influence on Dirt. She’s a high-ranking Interior agent with a direct line to the Empress’s court.”

Lyra leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with a fierce, strategic brilliance. “And she is going to see this as a massive win. A gift from the goddesses, dropped right in her lap. The ISRP is her baby. And you, Sten, are about to become her star success. She won’t care about the countess. This story, this push, will come from the very top. And when it does, everyone here on Dirt, from the Governess down to the local militia, will fall into line so fast they’ll get whiplash.”

She leaned back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “But,” she said, her voice taking on a new, sharper edge, “there’s a bitter cherry on this particular cake.” She looked at me, her gaze steady and unyielding. “When you do the interview, when the whole Imperium is watching, you need to thank the Countess. Publicly. For introducing you to her wonderful daughter, and meeting your amazing new pack-mates at work.”

The hopeful silence in the room shattered. Tian’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, Bria let out a soft gasp of disbelief, and Kaelis recoiled as if struck. But it wasn’t Tian who exploded this time. It was me.

“Why the fuck would I do that?!” I yelled, the words tearing from my throat. The sudden movement sent a jagged bolt of agony through my ribs, and I fell back against the pillows, gasping.

Lyra’s smile didn’t waver. It was a cold, sharp, beautiful thing. “Because,” she said, her voice a silken purr of pure, unadulterated legal cunning, “it makes her responsible for you. It puts you under her protection, publicly. She can’t deny it, not after you’ve thanked her on a galaxy-wide broadcast. So if anything, anything at all, happens to your pack after that… any harm that comes to your pack would be seen as her failure. A public display of weakness she couldn’t afford. She won’t be able to touch you.”

Lyra’s grin turned malicious. “She’ll hate it,” she said, savoring the thought. “Oh, she’ll probably still be able to make it hard for you all to find a new job. She’ll try to spin it as her wanting to keep you all close, under her ‘protection’. But a noble competitor of hers? They’ll see it as a perfect opportunity to snub her, to take some of the shine off her supposed success by hiring away the ‘happy pack’.”

I could see the plan, the elegant, vicious beauty of it. Lyra was brilliant, a master puppeteer pulling at the invisible strings of power and influence. It was a checkmate in three moves.

“That’s a very bitter cherry,” I said finally, my voice a low, resigned murmur.

Lyra nodded, her sharp smile softening into something more sympathetic. “Yeah, it is,” she admitted. “Alternatively, you could go to a rival of the Countess. Offer them your skills, your knowledge. That might keep you safe, personally. But,” she added, her gaze sweeping over the other girls. “It wouldn’t provide much protection for Zyl, Bria, Tian, or Kaelis. The Countess would be free to make their lives very, very difficult. Or more.”

The thought of them being hurt, of the Countess’s venom splashing onto them. I had a physical reaction, a flush of heat and a shiver that had nothing to do with temperature.

I looked from one determined face to the next, my gaze lingering on each of them. “What do you think of this plan?” I asked, my voice a low, rough murmur. The thought of becoming some kind of minor celebrity, of having my face plastered across the data-net made my stomach turn. But if being ‘known’ was the price of keeping them safe, then it was a sacrifice I would make in a heartbeat.

“There’s another option,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “We could just leave. All of us. We could get on a transport, go to some other planet. Start over.” I looked at my girls, what I was asking settling heavily in the small room. “But that would mean being away from your families. From your homes.”

Kaelis let out a short, sharp laugh, the sound brittle in the quiet room. “Sounds great,” she said, her voice laced with a bitter, sarcastic edge that spoke volumes about her own family ties.

Tian, Bria, and Zyl, however, were silent. They exchanged a long, searching look, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Zyl who finally spoke, her voice a low, steady rumble. “Our families would understand. Pack comes first.” She stated, her gaze unwavering. “But this is our home. We won’t be driven from it.” Tian and Bria nodded in silent, fierce agreement. Their loyalty felt tangible, a shield wall forming around me, but their faces were a mixture of anger and resolve.

Tian added, “But if we have to, we will. Together.”

Lyra, who had been listening with a calm, detached focus, spoke up then, her voice cutting through the emotional turmoil. “You probably could leave,” she said, her tone all business. “But it would be hard. The Countess could make it very difficult to get off-world. And the Interior would have something to say about it. You came here under the ISRP, Sten. They’re not just going to let you wander off.”

I nodded, the cold, hard logic of it settling in my gut. I looked at my girls, at the fierce, unwavering loyalty in their eyes. “Should we try Lyra’s plan then?” I asked, my voice quiet.

Kaelis, her hand still clutching mine, gave a single, sharp nod. Tian’s answer was a low, vicious growl. “Yes.”

Zyl turned her gaze to Lyra. She asked, her voice a calm, steady rumble that seemed to anchor the room. “What do we do next?”

Lyra’s answer was surprisingly simple. “Not much,” she said with a shrug. “You get better, Sten. You go home. You stay quiet. You follow your normal routine as much as possible.”

She turned her gaze to me, a mischievous twinkle returning to her eyes. “I’ll send a formal missive to the ISRP director. On your behalf, of course. ‘Requesting’ official commendation for the successful integration of Citizen Sten. Who has demonstrated exemplary adherence to program ideals by forming a Provisional Family Unit with several local citizens,” she said, glancing at Kaelis. “Including one of Dirt’s most celebrated athletes.’’

“It’s not a required step at all,” she continued, her tone turning more serious. “But it’s a way to get her attention, to put us on her radar in a positive, official way. It will take a week or two; the director is based on Shil. But if I don’t get a reply very quickly, followed by a flood of media requests… I’ll be surprised.” A slow, predatory smile touched her lips. “And if that doesn’t work, well, then we start exploring Plans B and C.”

Tian, who had been listening with a coiled, restless energy, spoke up. “Do we have to go back to work?” she asked, her voice a low growl of protest.

Lyra looked at her, her expression regretful. “Maybe,” she said, her voice noncommittal. “For now, don’t do anything that draws attention. We want the Countess to think you’re all complying, that her little… message… was received. Then, we surprise her.” She paused, a small, conspiratorial smile on her face. “But there’s nothing stopping you from using up all your sick leave and vacation days first.”

Tian still looked unhappy, but she gave a reluctant, sharp nod of agreement, muttering just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Fine. But if I have to go in, I’m not getting any actual work done. I aim to misbehave.”

A collective, unspoken sigh seemed to pass through the room, the sharp edges of our postures softening. The conversation drifted into shallower, calmer waters, a welcome relief after the storm we’d just weathered.

The professional tension left Lyra’s shoulders. The sharp, calculating glint in her eyes dissolved, replaced by the familiar bubbly warmth of the friend I knew. She was back to making jokes about the terrible hospital food and shamelessly perving on a particularly good looking Rakiri nurse who came in to check my vitals. Torka just shook her head, but not before getting a good look herself.

As Lyra and Torka got up to leave, Torka paused by my bed. She slipped a small, wax-paper-wrapped package from her pocket and placed it gently on the pillow beside my head before patting me on the shoulder. “Jerky,” she rumbled, her voice a low, matter-of-fact sound. The rich, smoky smell cut through the sterile antiseptic air of the hospital. “Real food. You need protein to heal. And you’re too thin anyway.”

Lyra hugged me, a fierce, protective embrace that was careful of my injuries. She pulled away, her hands coming up to cup my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her usual mischievous glint was gone, replaced by a raw, unwavering sincerity. “You have pack,” she said, her voice soft but intense. “You have friends. You aren’t alone. Call, and we will answer.”

The simple words brought Lyra and Torka’s actions into focus. They’d taken on my risk. It hit me hard. I’d spent my life wandering. Keeping my roots deliberately shallow. But seeing her actions and hearing that promise, from someone I’d only met weeks ago. The fierce sincerity in her face… My eyes burned. A single, hot tear traced a path down my bruised cheek.

⸻

The next morning I woke up groggy. It had been an emotional couple of days, rage, despair, and an unexpected sense of belonging. Tian had spent the night in my room, her large frame somehow folded into one of the uncomfortable visitor’s chairs. A silent, furry sentinel guarding my sleep.

This morning I was being discharged. I couldn’t wait to get out of the sterile, beeping confines of the hospital. But a knot of dread tightened in my stomach at the thought of returning to my apartment. To the place where it had happened.

The thought of being alone in that space, of hearing a sound in the night… it was a fear I couldn’t shake. I couldn’t stay there. The girls had talked about it, a quiet, serious discussion while I was pretending to sleep. When they’d presented the plan to me, I’d just nodded. I was going to stay at Zyl, Bria, and Tian’s place. I was going home with my pack.

Kaelis, Zyl and Bria came in early to help me clean up. It was quick, I think the girls had more personal effects in the room than I. There wasn’t much for me to pack. My data-pad, the plant and jerky from Torka and Lyra. And a single large plastic bag containing the clothes I’d been wearing when I came in. I glanced inside. The expensive, tailored suit was a ruined and bloody mess. A morbid, undeniable impulse made me keep it.

Zyl expertly navigated the wheelchair down to the hospital entrance, where an auto-ground-van was waiting. She didn’t hesitate. She scooped me up from the wheelchair as if I weighed nothing. For a moment, I was completely airborne, held securely against the solid warmth of her chest. Her fur was soft against my cheek, smelling of Zyl. She deposited me gently into the back seat and buckled me in with a practiced efficiency.

They’d removed the immobilization frame from my leg yesterday, but it was still splinted. Encased in a strange, wet-suit-like sleeve that ran from ankle to just above my knee. It felt tight and restrictive, a constant, dull pressure. But a far cry from the sharp agony I remembered. The doctor had explained it was to provide support while the shattered bones continued to strengthen and the muscle healed. She’d made it clear that I’d need to take it easy, giving a significant look at Zyl who’d been in the room. In time, I’d need to come back for physical therapy. With a final check to make sure I was secure, the car door hissed shut, and we headed off towards my apartment.

We arrived quickly and piled out of the van. I swiped my data-slate over the apartment door sensor, the lock clicking open with a familiar sound that now sent a jolt of anxiety through me. I expected to find splintered furniture, dried blood and memories of that night.

But the apartment was spotless.

The air smelled clean, a faint, pleasant scent of something vaguely floral. The floor, where I remembered a pool of my own blood spreading, was immaculate. The couch was perfectly aligned, not a cushion out of place, and the wall I had been slammed against with such force I was sure I’d left a mark was a smooth, unbroken expanse of neutral paint.

It was like nothing had ever happened. It was another demonstration of the Countess’s power.

The girls and I looked at each other, grimacing. But we quickly got on with the task of packing up my belongings. Not long, I told myself. Not long till we’re free. Well, free-ish.

There wasn’t much to pack. A single, stuffed suitcase and a backpack held the entirety of my worldly possessions. Zyl’s hands, which had been efficiently moving through the room, paused. She exchanged a quick, unreadable glance with Bria before her expression softened.

I just shrugged, a small, tired smile on my face. “I moved a lot,” was all I said. My hand tightened on the slick plastic of the bag containing my ruined suit. The expensive fabric was now stiff, rust-colored evidence of violence. In this pristine, sanitized room, where reality itself had been rewritten, this bag was the only thing that proved I wasn’t insane.

They finished quickly. With a final, shared look of grim determination, we left the sterile, violated space behind. Tian closed the door, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet streets of Vors. A final, definitive sound that marked the end of my short, fraught time in that apartment. We left, heading for the girls’ place, and for whatever came next. Together.

⸻

The journey to the girls’ apartment was quiet and comfortable. The auto-ground-van hummed through the familiar, colourful streets of Vor’s Scratch. The mundane, familiar scenery a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil of the last few days. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, the rhythmic motion of the car a soothing balm.

We arrived at a three-story walk-up that was almost identical to my old building, an echo of the city’s practical, mining-town roots. The girls piled out of the van, a whirlwind of efficient motion as they unloaded my meager belongings.

As we stood on the pavement, Kaelis hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in her golden eyes. She looked from the apartment building to me, her expression a mixture of hope and a deep, ingrained reluctance. “Can I… can I come up?” she asked, her voice a quiet, hesitant question.

Tian, who had been directing the unloading with a boisterous, cheerful energy, stopped what she was doing. She looked at Kaelis, a wide, incredulous grin spreading across her face. “Of course!” she exclaimed, her voice full of a warm, welcoming sincerity. She pulled out her data-slate, her fingers flying across the screen. A moment later, a soft chime confirmed the data transfer. “There,” Tian said, a triumphant look on her face. “You have access now.”

She slung an arm around Kaelis’s shoulders, pulling her into a rough, affectionate hug. “Come, go, stay, sleep here… do whatever you want,” Tian said, followed by a suggestive wink that made Kaelis’s cheeks flush blue. “You’re pack. This is your home too.”

Just as we reached the front door of their apartment, Tian stopped dead, her hand hovering over the access panel. A look of dawning horror washed over her face, her fur visibly blanching. “Um, Sten…” She stammered, her usual boisterous energy completely gone. “Could you just… hang out here, with Kaelis? For, like, five minutes? We just need to do a quick… thing.”

Before we could even respond, Tian, Bria, and Zyl practically dove through the door, slamming it shut behind them with a decisive thud. A moment later, the door cracked open again, and Tian’s head poked out. A frantic, apologetic look on her face. From inside I could hear the sounds of frantic cleaning and hushed, urgent whispers. “Maybe… maybe make that fifteen minutes?” she asked, before pulling the door shut again.

I laughed softly, protective of my ribs. But a genuine, open sound that seemed to fill the quiet hallway. Kaelis, who had been looking on with a confused smile, pulled me closer. I relaxed into her embrace. Her body was warm, and felt good.

Some time later, the door swung open to reveal a slightly flustered but smiling trio. “Okay,” Tian announced, a little breathlessly. “You can come in now.”

Kaelis and I walked in. The kitchen was spotless, with freshly wiped down counters. I wondered what I’d find when I opened the cupboard doors. The air smelled faintly of industrial-strength cleaner. The lounge was tidy, and I spotted a collection of game consoles and a VR setup under the main holo-display.

As we passed an open door, I peeked into what I assumed was Tian’s room - a barely contained explosion of clothes, sports equipment, and game controllers. Bria’s room, where they led me, was the complete opposite. It was neat and tidy, and that felt like the default. Not something they had just done now.

Zyl spoke up, her voice a low, comforting rumble. “Sten, this is your room.” She glanced over at Kaelis, a slow smirk spreading across her face. “And for any… visitors… you might have.”

I was incredibly grateful, the last few days were a heavy cloak on my shoulders. I tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Thanks, Bria,” I said, leaning on my crutches. “Did you remember to hide all the vibrators?”

Bria’s tail went still and she glanced at the bedside drawers before staring intently at the floor.

“Hey,” I said, my voice softening. “I’m just kidding. Thank you, really. But this is still your room. Please, feel free to come in and get clothes or whatever you need. I’m sorry for kicking you out.”

She shook her head, tracing a pattern on the floor with her foot. “It’s okay. I… I’m glad you’re here. Safe.”

With Bria’s help, I limped out into the lounge to Kaelis and the other girls. I stopped in the middle of the room, looking at the four of them. “Thank you,” I said, my voice thick. “For… for everything. Watching over me, letting me stay here… it means…” The words caught in my throat.

In an instant, I was surrounded. A wall of warm, furry and purple bodies pressed in, their arms wrapping around me in a fierce, protective embrace. I buried my face in the nearest shoulder, Tian’s, and lived in the moment. Held securely in the towering, gentle strength of my pack.

I was installed on the couch. My broken leg propped up with a mountain of pillows. Kaelis and the girls fussed around me, a whirlwind of concerned energy. A blanket was tucked around my shoulders, a glass of water was placed on the low table beside me.

Tian looked down at me, her eyes sparkling with a familiar, excited energy. “So,” she said, her voice full of a barely contained glee. “Wanna play Mecha Dominion Online with me?”

⸻

Chapter 16 - Adaptation

There’s a truth about staying in someone else’s home for any length of time. It has its own unique feel. The girls’ home, well, the pack’s home now - smelt of them.

It wasn’t what you might imagine, not an unpleasant wet dog smell. The girls were meticulously clean. But there was a faint, underlying musk. A warm, clean, slightly wild scent that clung to the furniture and hung in the air. It didn’t smell like a house; it felt like a den. Not dark and earthy, but warm and protected. A place you could curl up and feel safe. It was cozy.

And that feeling was especially strange when I considered the sheer scale of everything. I was constantly reminded of how small I was. Bria’s bed was enormous, a vast expanse of soft mattress and clean sheets that I could get lost in. When I sat on the couch, my good foot dangled like a toddler’s. My bad leg sprawled out on the couch, there was plenty of room. And the kitchen benches were just slightly too high to be comfortable.

Then there were the oddities I’d never considered before, things that were just normal parts of their lives. The towels were huge and incredibly fluffy, more like blankets than anything I was used to. Fixed to the wall in the bathroom next to the shower, was a device that looked like a futuristic, oversized hairdryer. A body fur drier. I guessed both of those were probably requirements in a Rakiri household. Getting into bed after a shower with damp fur would suck.

The day settled into a comfortable rhythm. Tian introduced me to the basics of Mecha Dominion Online. She was a… somewhat patient teacher, taking me through the tutorial. I found myself getting sucked into the game despite myself. We took a break before long, but I promised her I would play some more. It was fun, both the game and her reaction to playing with me, a male.

I existed at the center of the girls’ constant, quiet attention. A slight sigh would have one of them asking if I was bored. If I shifted my weight, another would fluff my pillows. The moment I finished a drink, a fresh one would be pressed into my hand. It was a bit smothering, but I couldn’t deny it was also… nice.

They didn’t hover. They all had their own things going on. Tian was gaming with friends, tackling a raid in MDO that I was too low-level for. Kaelis was studying a Vors Vipers playbook, while Bria sat at a desk in the corner, painting one of her mech models. Even Zyl was busy, planning a hunting trip with a friend, set for a few months from now. Yet, the moment one of them passed by and sensed the slightest need, it was instantly met.

Later, Bria and Kaelis went out grocery shopping and the rest of us watched trashy reality TV I’d never admit to liking. I was sandwiched between Tian and Zyl. A warm, soft body on each side, their collective heat a comforting blanket.

During a commercial break, my bladder made itself known. Deciding I could manage the short walk myself, I started to push myself up from the couch. I didn’t get far.

A low, guttural growl stopped me cold. I looked over at Zyl, now crouched like a predator, her eyes fixed on me with a fierce intensity.

I froze, one hand on the armrest. I stared at her, incredulous. “I’m just going to the bathroom, Zyl.”

The growl didn’t stop. She shifted, moving to block my path.

I let out a short, sharp laugh. “What are you going to do? Carry me to the toilet?” I asked, my voice teasing. “Are you going to hold my dick and aim for me, too?”

The growl cut off abruptly. Zyl’s face, which had been a mask of feral protectiveness, suddenly looked speculative. Her mouth opened, then closed again, no sound coming out. Then she shook her head and said, “Not this time.”

When I returned, Zyl was back in her spot on the couch, leaving just enough room for me. Though her eyes tracked me as I crossed the room. “Didn’t need any help?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not this time,” I replied, mirroring her earlier words. She might be a bit overprotective, but it only showed how much she cared.

I slumped back into the furry, warm cocoon of the couch. The tension from the bizarre discussion had melted away, replaced by a deep-seated comfort. It didn’t take long for the warmth, the soft pressure on either side of me, and the drone of the television to lull me into a peaceful sleep.

⸻

I woke to a dull ache in my neck and the sensation of something wet on my cheek. A soft, rhythmic breathing sound came from beneath me. Prying my eyes open, I saw I was slumped over. My head was resting on Tian’s shoulder, and a small puddle of my drool was currently soaking into her fur. Heat flooded my face. I jolted upright.

Tian tensed at the sudden movement, a soft groan escaping her lips as she stretched. I got the feeling she’d been stuck, unable or unwilling to move. I guess it was like having a cat on your lap. She blinked, her eyes focusing on me, then down at the damp spot on her shoulder. A small, amused smile touched her lips.

“Well,” she said, her voice husky with disuse. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my first time sleeping with you would go.”

I couldn’t help but lightly chuckle, trying to protect my ribs. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” she murmured, shifting to face me more directly on the couch. She was trying to sound casual, teasing. But I could see the genuine, unadulterated happiness sparkling in her eyes. It was a look I was starting to get used to, but it still sent a strange warmth spreading through my chest.

A glance out the window told me that evening had fallen while I slept. The sounds of quiet activity from the kitchen area drew my attention, and I saw Bria and Kaelis moving about. They were back from their shopping trip, and I assumed they’d managed to put everything away. I couldn’t help but wonder what oddities I might find in their cupboards later. Rakiri-sized cereal boxes? Industrial-sized bags of jerky? Was it all just the oversized alien equivalent of noodle packages?

The thought of cooking felt exhausting. I was still mostly couch-bound with my leg elevated, and the girls were clearly drained from the stress of the past couple of days.

We ordered in. The girls opted for a place that specialized in something suspiciously like barbecue. Huge, glistening ribs, smoked sausages, and mountains of pulled turox meat arrived in a series of insulated containers that filled the small kitchen counter. I convinced them to add a few sides of grilled vegetables and a large salad, a small concession for the non-carnivores in the group.

We ate sprawled out in the living room, a chaotic, informal picnic on the floor and the couch. The food was incredible, a welcome, greasy comfort after the sterile fare of the hospital. The girls took turns bringing me small plates of food, a piece of smoked sausage from Tian, a tender rib from Zyl. They’d hold it up to my mouth, their expressions a mixture of fierce protectiveness and gentle care.

“Hey,” I protested after Bria offered me a piece of grilled vegetable. “My arms and hands are fine. I can feed myself.”

My words were met with a series of amused and affectionate, but unyielding looks. The next offering came from Kaelis, a piece of pulled turox meat, held delicately between her fingers. I sighed in resignation, opening my mouth to accept it. The easy camaraderie of our pub nights returned, now laced with this new, overwhelming level of care. It was welcome after the stress of the last few days.

After we’d eaten our fill, a comfortable, food-induced lethargy settled over the room. The empty plates and containers were pushed to one side. We rearranged ourselves into a loose, comfortable circle. I was still on the couch, my leg propped up. Kaelis sat on the floor, her back resting against my good leg. The solid, warm pressure grounded me. The other girls were scattered on cushions around us.

I looked around at the comfortable mess, at the faces of the women who had taken me in, and felt a sense of peace settle over me. “So,” I started, breaking the comfortable silence. “What’s the plan?”

Bria stretched, her arms reaching for the ceiling. “Ugh, Zyl and I have work tomorrow,” she groaned. “It’s going to suck.”

Zyl grunted in agreement, her expression souring at the thought.

Kaelis shifted, turning to look up at me. “I have training tomorrow,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I’ve missed a few sessions, and my coach is… getting bitchy.” A faint blush crept up her cheeks. “But I wanted to be here tonight… to make sure you were safe. You know, in your bed. During the night.”

I couldn’t help but smile. The blush on her face deepened, but she met my gaze. I reached down, lightly touching her shoulder. “I like that idea,” I told her, my voice soft.

Tian, who had been quiet until now, suddenly perked up. “And I’m hanging with you tomorrow!” she declared, her eyes bright with excitement. “We can play games and eat all the junk food Bria and Kaelis bought!”

I grinned at her infectious enthusiasm. “Sounds great, Tian.”

A sudden, sharp desire for a small piece of normalcy cut through the comfortable haze. “Tomorrow morning,” I said, looking at the group. “I want to go for a walk.”

Zyl, who had been relaxing in a food coma, straightened up. She crossed her massive arms over her chest, her expression leaving no room for negotiation. “You,” she said, her voice a low, definitive rumble, “will sit. On this couch. And you will rest.”

I let out a soft sigh. “Yes,” I said, meeting her determined gaze. “And no.”

I saw the immediate protest forming on her lips and spoke up. “Look, I promise, I will rest. A lot.” I gestured to my splinted leg. “It’s not like I have a choice. But if I just sit here for weeks on end, doing nothing, I am going to go completely and utterly insane. I need to do something.”

“No.” Zyl’s growl was deeper this time, and I saw the other girls nod in agreement. “You have a broken leg. You have broken ribs. You will rest.”

I pushed myself up a little higher, my own determination hardening. “I will. But I want to contribute. And I have to move. It’s important to me.” I looked from Zyl’s stubborn face to Bria’s worried one, and then to Kaelis, who was watching the exchange with a quiet, analytical intensity. Tian tilted her head, looking at me, confused as to why I was pushing this.

“It’s a dumb human thing,” I explained, my voice softening slightly. “It’s hard for me to just sit around and do nothing. This is my pack, and I want to contribute. I want to cook, or at least help with meals. Or washing, or whatever.” I took a breath. “Besides, humans heal better if they move. It’s a well-known fact. It’s counterintuitive, I know, but sitting completely still for weeks just makes things worse.”

Bria interrupted, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What? That can’t be right. Heal better by moving?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You know humans perform better when they stretch before exercise, but Shil don’t need to?”

Kaelis nodded in understanding, but Bria looked surprised.

“Similar thing,” I continued. “Humans heal better if they move a little while they are healing.”

Zyl growled back, her concern evident in the deep rumble. “But you could hurt yourself.”

I nodded, conceding the point. “Yeah, I could.” I met her worried gaze with a small, reassuring smile. “So you should come walk with me. I’ll want to push it, and you’ll make sure I don’t.”

Zyl stared at me for a long moment, her expression a war between her protective instincts and the logic of my argument. Finally, she let out a huff of air, a sound of reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” she grumbled. “You and me, tomorrow morning. I’ll carry you down the stairs, and maybe you can walk to the end of the street.”

I grinned, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. “Perfect! A little bit more each morning and I’ll be doing hand-stands in no time.”

Zyl just scoffed, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.

The comfortable lethargy of a full belly didn’t last long. With a collective groan, the girls started to clear away the remnants of our feast. I tried to help, I really did. Pushing myself up, I hobbled towards a discarded plate, only for Tian to snatch it away with a grin just as I reached it. I turned, aiming for an empty BBQ turox box, but Bria was already there, scooping it up with an effortless grace. Every time I moved to grab something, it vanished before my fingers could close around it. I eventually gave up, sinking back onto the couch with a sigh of mock defeat, content to watch the whirlwind of efficient cleaning.

Once the living room was restored to its usual state, the topic of showers came up. They insisted I go first.

There’s something deeply unsatisfying about hospital showers; the low water pressure, the sterile smell, the feeling that you’re just rinsing the grime around rather than washing it away. The spray in the apartment bathroom was hot and forceful, and as the steam filled the large-to-me room, I felt the last few days of hospital grime and stress wash down the drain. For the first time in what felt like an age, I felt properly clean.

When I emerged, dressed in a fresh set of sweats, the girls seemed surprised. “That was fast,” Tian commented, a puzzled look on her face. I just shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was. Maybe Rakiri men took longer showers?

I made my way to Bria’s room - or my room, I guess. I wasn’t entirely sure how that worked now. But the thought was a pleasant one. I pulled off my shirt, leaving me in only my underpants, and carefully slid into the bed, keeping my splinted leg straight. The feeling was pure bliss. The mattress was soft but supportive, a world away from the stiff hospital cot, and the sheets smelled clean.

I was reveling in the simple luxury, scrolling idly through The Weave on my data-slate, when the door opened. Kaelis walked in, a fluffy white towel wrapped snugly around her torso, her hair still damp. She stopped dead in the doorway, her eyes widening as she saw me.

Her gaze dropped from my face, tracing the lines of my chest and arms before snapping back up to meet mine. A dark blue blush started at her neck, creeping up her cheeks until it reached the tips of her ears. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

A slow smirk spread across my face. “See something you like?”

She nodded, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. Then her expression fell, a grimace replacing the desire. Her voice was a husky murmur, thick with a desire that made my pulse jump. “As much as I want to… to explore…” she trailed off, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “We can’t. You’re hurt, Sten, and I won’t risk making it worse.”

I nodded, my smirk changing into something more primal. “Yeah, we can’t. But you can.” I paused, letting my gaze drift over her. “I want to see you.”

Kaelis just blinked, her expression a mask of confusion. She clearly wasn’t sure what I was getting at.

Seeing her uncertainty, I was more direct. “I want to see you touch yourself,” I said, my voice low and steady. “I want your eyes on me while you do it. I want to see you cum, for me. Then you can get into bed.”

The blush on her cheeks exploded, turning a shade of blue I’d never seen before. Her eyes went wide with shock and embarrassment. For a long moment, she just stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. Then, with a jerky, almost convulsive movement, she nodded.

She stepped forward, closing the door. The white towel pooled around her ankles in a soft heap, revealing her body to my hungry eyes. Her skin, a pale shade of lilac under the soft light of the room, seemed to glow. She was built of long, lean muscle, the defined lines of her abdomen and thighs proof of her athleticism.

She leaned back, her purple body a contrast against the neutral color of the wall. Her legs spread slightly, an invitation and a surrender all at once. Her eyes were wide, golden and dark, and welded to me, darting from my face to my chest and back again. A silent declaration of desire.

A soft, almost imperceptible whimper escaped her as she bit her lower lip, the simple act sending a jolt of raw desire straight through me.

Her hands, which had hung limply at her sides, lifted as if pulled by an invisible string. Her fingers ghosted over the flat plane of her stomach, tracing the elegant curve of her ribs. I watched, holding my breath, as they rose higher to finally cup her conical breasts.

She squeezed, her fingertips pressing into the soft flesh, her palms cradling them. Her nipples, already rock-hard, pointed towards the ceiling like tiny, defiant peaks. A low groan rumbled in her chest, a sound she tried to stifle but failed. Her hands left her breasts, leaving them flushed and pebbled, and began their slow, agonizing descent lower.

There was nothing slow or seductive in her movements now; it was all direct, raw need. She wanted this. She wanted me to see her.

Her slick folds were already glistening, her pussy lips plump and wet. She ran a single finger through them, a shiver wracking her frame at the contact. Her jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in her cheek as she fought to remain silent. Through the closed door, I could hear the faint, steady sound of the shower. A distant clink of a cup from the kitchen made her flinch, a sharp reminder of how close they were, and how exposed she was.

A low growl rumbled in my own chest. “Good girl,” I purred, my voice barely a whisper. “Play with yourself, Kaelis. Show me how much you want me.”

And she did. She slid two long fingers over her labia, parting the wet folds and dipping them deep inside herself with a sharp hiss of breath. She groaned, a low, guttural sound, as she pulled them free, glistening with her slick wetness, and began tormenting the hard pearl of her clit with slow, deliberate circles.

I watched, mesmerized. She was a goddess, performing just for me. My cock was painfully hard, straining against my underpants and creating a visible tent in the sheet covering my lower half. This was, from a purely selfish perspective, a terrible idea. I wasn’t going to sleep well tonight. But watching her surrender to a pleasure I’d demanded… I was more than happy with my choice.

I looked at her face. Her eyes were lidded, pupils blown wide, fixed on me. They darted from my face, to my chest, and down to the tented sheet, a hungry, possessive look in their depths. She was completely lost in the moment, in the lewdness of it all, in her open surrender and my raw desire.

I kicked the sheet off with my good leg, letting it pool around my knees so she could see the full effect she was having on me.

A choked gasp escaped her, her hand stilling for a heartbeat. Her legs began to tremble as her fingers quickened their pace, strumming directly over her clit now. Her other hand balled into a fist and came up to her mouth, trying desperately to muffle the guttural, desperate sounds that tore from her throat. We could still hear the muffled sounds of the other girls moving around the apartment, getting ready for bed, oblivious to the private show unfolding in my room.

“Kaelis,” I whispered harshly. “Stop.”

She froze instantly, her fingers pressed hard against her clit, her whole body vibrating with contained energy. Her thighs were slick with her need, trembling uncontrollably. A soft, broken whimper escaped her, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked at me.

“Are you a good girl, Kaelis?” I asked, my voice low and demanding.

She nodded jerkily, the small movement forcing another desperate whimper of want from her lips.

“Whose good girl are you?”

Her eyes widened as the weight of the question settled over her. A flicker of shock, then desire. She pulled her balled fist from her mouth, her throat working as she swallowed hard. “Yours, Sten,” she breathed, her voice thick with arousal. “I’m your good girl.” Her thighs trembled violently, and she widened her stance, opening herself up to me completely.

“Do you want to cum for me, Kaelis?”

She nodded frantically, the words a desperate, whispered prayer. “Please, Sten… I need to. For you. Please let me show you… please.”

I let the moment stretch, my eyes devouring her. I traced every detail: the slick sheen on her thighs, the dark strands of hair plastered to her neck, and the raw desperation burning in her eyes.

“Cum for me, Kaelis,” I commanded softly. “Be my good girl.”

That was all it took. She plunged two fingers deep inside her twat, her palm pressing and grinding against her clit. Her hips gyrated wildly as she finger-fucked herself with a desperate, frantic energy. In just a moment, her whole body seized up. Her chest flushed a deep blue, her nipples were like stones, and the tendons in her neck stood out like tight cords. Then her orgasm consumed her, a violent, beautiful storm breaking from the inside out.

Her glassy eyes were locked on mine for a split second before they went unfocused and she squeezed them shut. A muffled groan tore from her throat as she slumped, boneless, against the wall.

Her body shuddered with the last waves of her orgasm, a series of soft, involuntary twitches. She slid down the wall, her legs trembling, and her head hung low, her damp hair obscuring her face. The room fell silent, the only sound her ragged, hitching breaths. When she finally looked up, her eyes were dazed, her cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful blue. She pulled her slick fingers from between her legs, a drooling trail of her climax connecting them to her thigh. Her gaze dropped to the floor, searching for the towel she’d discarded.

“No,” I said, my voice a low rasp. “Come here.”

She froze, her hand hovering in the air. “Sten?”

“Come here, I want a taste,” I repeated, my eyes fixed on her wet fingers. “I want to taste you on them.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a fresh wave of blue flushing across her chest and up her neck. For a second, she just stared, her dazed mind catching up to my demand. As if she couldn’t quite believe what I’d said. Then, a smile spread across her lips. She pushed herself away from the wall and crawled onto the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate. My breath hitched. She settled beside me, careful of my injured leg, and offered her two wet, gleaming fingers to me.

I grabbed her wrist and took her fingers into my mouth without hesitation, licking and suckling them. She tasted slightly of salt, and musk, a primal, feminine flavour. But underneath, there was something else, a faint, unexpected sweetness, like the clean scent of rain on hot pavement, with a subtle metallic tang that was entirely alien.

She bit her lip, a sharp hiss of breath escaping as I licked and swirled my tongue around her fingers, tasting her completely. Her eyes, wide with shock and clouded with arousal, also held a breathless wonder.

When I finally released her wrist, her gaze dropped. “I need to… get the towel,” she stammered, gesturing vaguely at her inner thighs, still slick with the evidence of her pleasure. “Clean up.”

I reached out, my fingers gently brushing her arm, stopping her. “No,” I said softly. “I want you to hold me. I want you to feel your wet thighs against me, and remember what you did. What we did.” I shifted slightly, making the tent in my underpants more obvious. “Besides,” I added with a wry grin, “if I’m suffering, you’re suffering with me.”

A shaky laugh escaped her, but she did as I asked. She carefully crawled into the bed behind me, her naked body fitting against my back like she was made for it. I felt the softness of her breasts against my shoulder blades, the damp, radiating heat of her sex pressed intimately against my ass, and the secure, possessive feel of her arms around my torso. One of her hands settled, gently and tentatively, on my bare chest, her fingers cool against my skin.

She shifted, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my bald head, and sighed, her body relaxing into mine. “Heal fast, Sten,” she whispered into my ear.

Sleep would be a long time coming, my body a tight coil of frustrated horniness. But the discomfort was a small price to pay. This was infinitely better than being in the hospital. It was exactly where I wanted to be.

⸻

I woke to a chill on my back where her warmth should have been. For a moment, a sliver of irrational disappointment and fear pricked at me. But it was quickly replaced by the sounds of movement from the communal area. Soft footsteps, the clink of a cup, and the low murmur of voices.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my good foot finding the floor. A groan escaped me as I pushed myself up, the muscles in my back and side protesting the movement. I grabbed a pair of loose sweatpants, then paused, my hand hovering over a shirt. The memory of Kaelis’s wide, hungry eyes on my bare chest last night flashed through my mind. Deciding it was too early to deal with that particular cultural quirk, I grabbed the shirt and pants, pulling both on before hobbling out.

I paused in the doorway, my hand resting on the frame. Kaelis and Zyl were standing by the kitchen counter, locked in a furious, whispered conversation. Bria was bustling around behind them, listening but not participating, humming a low tune as she sliced something.

I caught a fragment of their argument. “…he just lay in the bed,” Kaelis insisted, her voice tight with frustration. “He didn’t move, he was safe. I promise.” She flushed a deep blue. “I wasn’t even on the bed when I… I performed… okay?”

Zyl’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she whispered back, her voice laced with contrition. “I shouldn’t have accused you. I smelled it, you know… I’m just worried. I can’t see him get hurt again. It…” She trailed off, her green eyes lifting and locking with mine.

A flicker of panic crossed her face before being replaced by a bright, overly cheerful smile. “Good morning, Sten!” she said loudly, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet apartment. “Would you like some tea? Bria is making some breakfast… Tian is still in bed.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” I said, my voice still a little rough with sleep. I looked from Zyl’s overly bright face to Kaelis, who was now staring intently at the floor. “I pushed her,” I said quietly, my gaze returning to Zyl. “Talk to me about it if you’re concerned.”

Kaelis’s blush deepened, and I saw her thighs squirm slightly.

Zyl stuttered, her composure breaking for a second. “Oh, no, it’s… it’s okay,” she stammered, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, hey, when do you want to go for that walk?”

I nodded, letting her change the subject. “Sure, let’s do that now. Then I can relax with some tea and whatever Bria’s cooking up. It smells great.”

With Zyl’s help, I managed to get a pair of shoes onto my feet. She then scooped me up into a princess carry with an ease that was still slightly jarring. I relaxed into her strong arms as she carried me down the stairs to the street below.

The cool morning air was a shock after the warmth of the apartment, but a welcome one. Zyl set me down gently, and for a moment, I just stood there, savoring the feeling of fresh air.

It wasn’t a long walk to the end of the street, but it felt like a marathon. Each step was a deliberate, calculated effort, a protest of screaming muscles and a dull ache from deep within my still healing bones. But I needed this. I needed to move, to push myself, to feel some semblance of normal again.

Zyl hovered beside me, a furry shadow of concern. Her hand was outstretched, hovering near my arm, ready to catch me if I stumbled. I could feel her anxiety radiating off her, a contrast to the calm focus that Zyl normally exuded.

When I finally reached the end of the street, I stopped, swaying slightly on my feet, my breath ragged. Before I could say anything, Zyl was there. She closed the small distance between us in a single step, her strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me against her warm, furry body.

I sagged against her, letting her take my weight. The cold Vors air bit at my exposed skin, and I relished the furnace-like warmth she provided. We stood like that for a moment, me leaning on her, her holding me steady. Keeping the pressure off my bad leg, I looked down the street, back towards our apartment.

Then I asked, “Are you jealous?”

I felt her stiffen, her muscles coiling tight under my hands. Her jaw worked, opening but no sound came out. She stared down the empty street, her green eyes unfocused.

After a few long moments, she let out a slow, shaky breath. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a low rumble against my ear. “Maybe. I’m worried. The sight of you in that hospital bed, Sten… I hated it. I can’t stand to see you limp around now, pushing yourself like this.”

She continued, her voice gaining a raw, primal edge. “I feel like I need to rip something. To run, to tear, to hunt, to crush.” Her arms tightened around me, a protective, possessive gesture. “But that won’t help right now. I overreacted this morning. I’ll apologize to Kaelis. But… I guess maybe I am a bit jealous too. I want to…” she trailed off, leaving the thought hanging in the cold morning air.

“I want to, too,” I said, my voice soft but confident. “With you, Zyl.”

A deep rumble started in her chest, a sound of happiness and approval that vibrated through me. Her arms squeezed me a little tighter before relaxing.

“Come on,” I said, pushing myself away from her slightly. “Let me walk back. The more of this I can do, the faster I’ll get better.”

I looked up at her, my head still resting against her furry shoulder, still encased in her arms. “And then we can,” I added.

⸻

Breakfast was a much more subdued affair than the previous night’s chaotic feast. Bria had whipped up a large batch of what looked like loaded scrambled eggs. It was surprisingly delicious and we all ate our fill before the girls bustled around getting ready for their day.

Zyl and Bria were the first to leave, knocking on Tian’s door to wake her up before heading off to work. Kaelis lingered a little longer. After a brief, awkward moment where she just stared at me, blushing, she leaned down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to my lips before practically fleeing the apartment for her training session.

That left just me and Tian. The morning’s walk, short as it had been, had taken more out of me than I’d expected. My leg ached with a dull, persistent throb, and a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I told Tian I was going to lie down for a bit. She offered a sleepy, one-shouldered shrug and a quiet “kay,” her attention already drifting back to her breakfast.

I must have slept for a couple of hours. When I woke, the apartment was quiet save for the soft, rhythmic clicking of a game controller. I hobbled out into the living room to find Tian on the couch, completely engrossed in Mecha Dominion Online.

She pulled her VR unit off as I entered, her face breaking into a wide, luminous grin. “You’re awake!” she chirped, her previous focus completely shattered. “Ready to play?”

She was practically vibrating with excitement. Her enthusiasm was infectious. She helped me get settled on the couch, propping my leg up with pillows and handing me a gaming unit. The joy radiating from her was so genuine it was impossible not to get swept up in it.

“Quick, join my party!” she urged, pointing a frantic finger at the screen. “We’re hunting Razor-Claws - we need their chitin to upgrade my plasma cannon! Don’t worry, everyone will help you out.” I undocked my starter mech. I wasn’t sure if I could contribute much to killing whatever Razor-Claws were, but I figured Tian knew what she was doing.

In MDO you were a mercenary mech pilot helping the Imperium pacify a hostile world full of dangerous crab-like megafauna. It was a huge, open-world sandbox MMO. You could team up, form mercenary companies and work together to run missions and collect resources. Then, ultimately get bigger and more powerful Mecha.

Tian invited my character, BaldViking, into her current battle group. I was assaulted by a flurry of on-screen invitations and audio notifications. “Everyone, this is BaldViking!” she announced over the group comms, her voice bright and proud. “He’s my boyfriend, and he’s new, so be nice!”

The girls in the battle group were nice. It was clear some of them were close friends with Tian, and they took great pleasure in ribbing her over dragging me into MDO. “No way, is that him?” one voice chirped. “Finally got your ‘boyfriend’ to log in, huh, Tian?” another joked over comms.

I chuckled, speaking up. “Yeah, well, usually it’s me dragging her off to the bedroom.”

The comms channel went dead silent for a solid three seconds. I could almost hear the gears turning in their heads before a few snickers broke the silence, quickly followed by more open laughter. “Right,” the group commander, a player named ‘IronMaiden’, interrupted, her tone clipped. “Objectives are marked on your HUD. Let’s move out.”

I wasn’t sure if Tian was more excited about playing the game with me, or showing me off to her friends. A part of me suspected it was the latter. I didn’t mind. The game was actually pretty fun, in a chaotic, explosive sort of way. I was mostly getting carried by the other, more experienced players in our group, my starter-mech barely scratching the giant alien crabs we were fighting.

But it seemed being a gamer boi had its privileges. Tips and in-game credits flooded my inbox as the others made sure I never get swarmed, constantly calling out targets and shielding my starter-mech from the worst of the damage.

We spent the afternoon orchestrating a glorious cacophony of explosions and laser fire. With the constant stream of ‘donations’ from the other members of the battle group and rewards from completing objectives, I was quickly able to upgrade my starter mech into a nimble light scout. I found a new role in our squad, zipping across the battlefield to draw fire while the larger, heavier mechs poured on the damage, blowing the giant crab-like creatures into viscera. The mindless violence was cathartic, a simple ballet that required just enough focus to push everything else out of my mind.

Our rampage was interrupted by a persistent, chiming ringtone cutting through the sounds of battle. It took me a second to place it, to realize it was coming from outside the game.

“Shit, my slate’s ringing. I gotta get that,” I announced over the comms. A chorus of goodbyes flooded our ears from the other girls in the group. “You have to play with us again!” one of them insisted. “Yeah, BaldViking, you’re really good!” another chimed. I pulled my gaming unit off, and Tian followed suit a second later.

The sudden quiet of the apartment felt strange after the chaos of the game. I fumbled for my data-slate, which was buzzing insistently on the coffee table. The caller ID showed Lyra’s name. I answered, putting her on speaker.

“Lyra, hey,” I said, my voice still buzzing.

“Sten. Tian. I have an update,” she said, her voice as crisp and professional as always. “I’ve sent off the formal request to the ISRP director, citing the Provisional Family Unit and mentioning how your future mates had helped you. All the necessary paperwork has been filed.”

A long, silent breath escaped both me and Tian simultaneously. It was a weight we hadn’t even fully realized we’d been carrying. A constant, low-level hum of anxiety that had suddenly gone quiet.

“This is good,” Tian said, breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky with released tension. “But how do we bring that bitch down?”

Before Lyra could offer her legal counsel, I spoke up. “We wait,” I said, catching Tian’s fiery gaze. “For now, that’s our only move. We secure our position, we plan, and when the time is right, we make her regret ever fucking with us.”

“I also recommend this plan,” Lyra’s voice cut in, firm and clear. “Get safe first. Take your time. There’s no rush to enact revenge when your security is on the line.” She paused for a beat.

“Furthermore, I strongly advise you not to discuss or write down any business plans or ideas. Your Apex employment contracts have standard clauses regarding intellectual property. You want to be completely free and clear of Apex before you start doing anything that they might have a claim on.”

Tian slumped back against the couch cushions with a frustrated sigh, but she nodded. Her jaw tightened, but the fight in her eyes gave way to a grudging understanding. A slow, careful approach was the only smart one, even if it chafed.

“Thanks, Lyra,” I said, my voice full of gratitude. “Really. Thank you.”

“No problems,” she replied, and I thought I could detect a hint of warmth in her tone. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything.”

The call ended, leaving us in the quiet of the apartment once more. I tossed the data-slate aside, turned to Tian, and snuggled into her side. She pulled me up, pressing my head between her furry, spandex-covered breasts. She rested her jaw on my head, and we just sat there for a moment.

Being held by Tian was a mix of pure comfort and exquisite torture. Her breasts were a soft, warm pillow against my cheek, her steady heartbeat a soothing drum against my ear. The faint, clean scent of her fur filled my senses, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the feeling.

But it was hard to fully relax. A low thrum of frustration made the soft pressure of Tian’s body against mine a little too stimulating, a reminder of the previous night’s self-inflicted blueballs.

With a soft groan, I moved myself back slightly, creating a small space between us. I looked up, my chin still resting on the plush swell of her chest, to meet her gaze. I pushed myself up to press my lips against hers.

Before I could even take a breath, Tian responded. Her kiss was a storm, wild. It spoke of potential and need, like the ozone before a lightning strike. Her mouth crashed against mine, not just kissing but consuming.

Her tongue, long and aggressive, almost choked me as it plunged into my mouth. Her hands roamed over my back, my arms, pulling me up onto her, her hands unsure of where to settle, as if she wanted to devour me whole yet was trying to be gentle and hold herself back. I gripped her firm breasts, squeezing them possessively, and she groaned into my mouth, her hands freezing as a shiver ran through her.

Suddenly, she pushed me away, her breath coming in heavy pants. Her eyes were wide, a flicker of panic in their depths.

“No, no, no,” she stammered, shaking her head. “Zyl will kill me. She… we made a promise.”

I let out a frustrated grumble. “Fucking cock-blocking Zyl,” I muttered under my breath.

“But,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I really, really like kissing you. And, oh Goddess, your hands…” She shivered again, a delicious, full-body tremor. “Maybe… maybe we can just do that for a bit?”

That was all the encouragement I needed. I leaned in, capturing her lips in a slower, more deliberate kiss.

⸻

Chapter 17 - Mutiny

Humans are creatures of profound contradiction. We tell ourselves we are creatures of logic, yet we are ruled by the unsteady currents of perception and feeling.

My limited experience on Dirt had shown me the same held for Shil and Rakiri too. We seek rules for predictability, yet chafe under them because they limit our autonomy. A gift given in love is appreciated. It builds bonds and relationships. But a gift born of pity is a blade that severs, breeding only resentment.

I knew, deep in my soul, that Kaelis, Tian, Bria and Zyl profoundly cared about me. I saw this in every hour with them. Their touch anticipated my every perceived whim, trapping me in a constant, smothering cocoon of fur and affection.

And yet, while a part of me reveled in their care, another part chafed against it. I wanted to see, to move, to do. To contribute. Their affection was a gilded cage, a glorious dichotomy of love and restriction.

The days settled into a comfortable, domestic rhythm. Our mornings began with a quiet ritual. Zyl and I would venture out into the cool, grey dawn of Vor’s Scratch for my prescribed walk. Each day, I pushed myself a little further. The dull ache in my leg was a constant reminder of the damage that had been done. Zyl was a silent, steady presence beside me, her large frame a comforting shadow. She’d let me set the pace, hovering nearby in silent support and encouragement.

My latest attempt had seen me complete four full laps of the block, a small victory that left me breathless but filled with a stubborn sense of accomplishment.

With Bria, Zyl and Kaelis gone for the day, Tian and I would fall into our own routine. Our days were a glorious blur of explosions and laser fire as we dove headfirst into Mecha Dominion Online. I’d finally ’saved up’ enough in-game currency to upgrade from my scout mech to a medium-class recon mech.

It was a significant step up, transforming me from a glorified distraction into a genuine threat on the battlefield. Our synergy was immediate and devastating. My advanced electronic warfare suite fed a constant stream of tactical data to Tian, who would then unleash a torrent of plasma and missiles with a gleeful, bloodthirsty abandon. My medium mecha had its own powerful mini-guns, firing out streams of tracers to add to Tian’s focused destruction. She was having an absolute blast, both in the game and, I suspected, in showing off her new ’gamer-boi-friend’ to her online buddies.

The Vors Vipers had a home match against a team from a nearby city tonight. The girls, with my excited support, declared it a pack outing. A grin I couldn’t contain spread across my face. I loved spending time with them, but I was desperate for fresh scenery, a taste of the outside world that didn’t involve a slow, painful hobble around the block.

Kaelis was so thrilled that we were all coming to watch her play, she’d brought home signed team jerseys for each of us. In a blur of motion, Tian, Bria, and Zyl were stripping off their tops. They pulled the jerseys on in one smooth movement, giving me an eyeful of furry boob in the process.

Not to be outdone, I followed suit, peeling off my own shirt. When the jersey had settled into place and I could see again, all four girls stared, their movements ceasing entirely.

A blue blush crept up Kaelis’s cheeks, while Zyl and Tian’s tails began a slow, hypnotic sweep from side to side. The very tip of Bria’s tongue slipped out from between her lips as her thighs visibly clenched together.

Getting us to the stadium was an operation planned with the precision of a military extraction. Tian triple-checked the auto-ground-van booking while Bria packed extra clothes ’just in case Sten gets cold’. Zyl inventoried a first-aid pack that could handle a small firefight, and I’m pretty sure I saw her lift the edge of her Vors Vipers jersey to check the hunting knife strapped to her hip.

The girls were on edge, a low-level hum of hyper-vigilance radiating from them. Their gazes constantly scanned our surroundings, their postures were tense, ready for any perceived threat. It was a little much, but I understood where it was coming from. They were nervous, and that manifested as a fierce, smothering protectiveness.

The stadium air buzzed, thick with the smell of fried pippayas and cheap beer. A thousand overlapping conversations merged into a dull roar. It was a chaotic, vibrant symphony compared to the quiet of our apartment. As we found our seats, the girls once again formed their protective circle, boxing me in against the railing.

By the middle of the first half, the beer had caught up with me. “I need to pee,” I announced, starting to push myself up.

Immediately, Tian and Zyl were on their feet. “We’ll come with you,” Zyl rumbled, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I hobbled my way to the men’s restroom, a journey that felt like a state procession with my two towering, furry bodyguards clearing a path through the crowded concourse. When I reached the door, I turned to them, a teasing grin on my face. “Alright, this is me,” I said. “I think I can handle it from here.”

Tian just crossed her arms, planting herself firmly on one side of the entrance. Zyl mirrored her on the other. They stood there, two imposing sentinels, their expressions grim and unyielding.

It was a silent, furry ‘you shall not pass’ directed at the entire stadium. With a sigh, I shook my head and limped through the door, leaving my overzealous bodyguards to their post.

When we got back to our seats, Bria was sitting there with fresh beers and pippayas to munch on for us. It was so good to get out of the apartment, breathe fresh air, and see Kaelis play. To top it all off, her team won!

⸻

Eventually, Tian’s ’sick leave’ ran its course, and she had to return to the office. The apartment felt strangely quiet without her boisterous energy.

Bria had taken leave today, and our day together was quiet. She sat curled up at one end of the couch, lost in one of her favourite casual games, her fingers dancing across her data-slate. I was at the other end, my own slate propped up on my knees, deep in research about how to get apps approved for the Imperium App Store.

We were in our own worlds, but never separate. A foot would idly rest on a furry calf, a hand would come to rest on a knee. It was a constant and silent conversation of casual touches that anchored us together. The afternoon wore on, and the quiet of the apartment, combined with the lingering fatigue of my recovery, began to take its toll. My eyes blurred and grew heavy. I eventually gave in, my head coming to rest on Bria’s soft, furry thigh, and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

When Tian burst through the door that evening, Zyl trailing behind her, she was radiating an aura of smug satisfaction. She dropped her work bag on the floor with a triumphant thud, a wide, wicked grin spreading across her face.

“You’ll never guess what I did today,” she announced, her voice full of a gleeful, conspiratorial energy.

I looked up, a questioning smile on my face. “Let me guess, you actually did some work?” Zyl snorted.

Tian scoffed, a short, sharp sound of pure derision. “Please,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “As if. No, I spent the entire day doing code reviews. I didn’t write a single line of new code.” Her grin widened, turning positively evil. “But I did find seventeen critical issues in a single pull request for a button colour change. My comments were a masterpiece of passive-aggressive, nit-picky snark. I think I made the junior who wrote it cry.”

I laughed, a warm, easy sound. It was hard to believe this fierce, confident woman was the same junior who, only weeks ago, had been so quiet and deferential. Even though, technically, she was still a junior herself.

I started small, a guerrilla campaign of domestic helpfulness. Each morning after they left for work, I’d hobble into the kitchen and insist on helping with the breakfast cleanup. My first attempts were met with a wall of furry, or purple, protective resistance. “You need to rest!” they’d insist, trying to gently herd me back to the couch.

But I was relentless, and my stubborn persistence eventually wore them down. I discovered that if I just started loading the dishwasher, or chopping vegetables in prep for dinner, they’d eventually give up with a huff and let me continue. Soon, I was a regular fixture in the kitchen.

My other big victory was the laundry. I’d wait till my minder was engrossed in gaming, or watching SurvivorhuMan. Then I’d sneak off to clean some clothes. The machine was simple, and a mountain of discarded clothes had been slowly growing in the corner of the laundry nook. I sorted, washed, and dried. The rhythmic task of sorting and folding was welcome. I just wanted to feel like I was contributing. I wasn’t an invalid.

After Tian’s crowing about her lack of work ’accomplishments’, she found a neat pile of freshly folded clothes waiting for her on her bed. All the girls had one.

She stopped dead in the doorway of her room. I was propped up on the couch. She turned around and looked at me, utter shock on her face. “Sten,” she began, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “You… you did the laundry?”

I looked up from my data-slate, a small, innocent smile on my face. “Yeah?” I replied, then paused, a flicker of genuine concern crossing my face. “Oh. Should I not have gone into your room?”

Her room was a natural disaster zone: a chaotic mess of discarded clothes, scattered controllers, an old VR headset, and a bewildering array of sports equipment. Zyl and Bria’s rooms, on the other hand, were a stark contrast. Lived-in, certainly-underwear on the floor, a bra slung over a chair-but fundamentally tidy.

Tian shook her head quickly, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “No, no, it’s fine,” she stammered, looking a little ashamed. “I’m just… not used to this.”

I just shrugged. “I was bored,” I said, my tone light and teasing. “And honestly, the walk through the minefield of your floor to put the clothes on your bed was the most exciting part of my day.”

She laughed, a short, sharp sound that was half amusement, half grimace. “Okay, okay, I get it,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll clean it. I promise.”

“It’s your room,” I said with another shrug, my smile softening. I wasn’t judging, just stating a fact.

⸻

Shel’s Eve arrived, when we’d normally meet Lyra and Torka at ‘The Broken Pick’. Instead, we invited them over. They brought a wave of cheerful chaos into our den.

I had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, a slow, careful dance on my bum leg. My guerrilla campaign had been a resounding success, and the girls had finally ceded the kitchen to me. Tonight, I was pulling out all the stops. The air was thick with the rich, earthy smell of baked kresh tubers, platters heaped with flash-fried turox steak, sliced so thin the edges crisped into delicate, savoury curls.

I’d whipped up a selection of sauces, some spicy, some sweet. And a fresh salsa made from tormak berries and a thick, green vegetable that looked like an oversized celery stick. It had a sharp, pungent flavour surprisingly similar to onion. We had as close as I could get to Loaded Baked Potatoes.

As we all settled down to eat, the conversation naturally turned to the one topic that was a constant, low-level hum of anxiety beneath our newfound domestic bliss. “So,” Tian began, her mouth full of steak and tuber. “Any news?”

Lyra, devouring her meal with a distinct lack of lawyerly precision, looked up. “The message should have arrived on Shil for a while now,” she said with a casual shrug. “We could get word tomorrow, or next week. Or never.”

She saw the flicker of disappointment on our faces and offered a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve already started putting out quiet feelers to known enemies of Countess D’vejin as a Plan B. And I’m also looking into what it would take to get you all off Dirt as a Plan C.”

The weight of Lyra’s words settled over the table for a moment. But the feeling couldn’t last against the combined force of full bellies and good company.

Later, after the plates had been cleared, Torka produced a bottle from her bag. It was the dark, smoky, burnt-sugar spirit I’d come to enjoy, its amber liquid catching the light. She poured two generous tumblers, handing one to me with a silent nod.

The girls were engrossed in some trashy holo-vid, their laughter and commentary filling the living room. Torka and I, however, sought refuge on the small balcony. It was a tight squeeze, but we managed to fit two chairs out there, our knees almost touching in the cramped space.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a long moment, sipping our drinks and looking out over the colourful, quiet streets of Vor’s Scratch. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the apartment.

Torka finally broke the silence, her voice a low, thoughtful rumble. “Shuttle maintenance is a lot like dating an alien,” she said, swirling the dark liquid in her glass.

I looked at her, a quizzical smile on my face. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“You think you know how it’s supposed to work,” she explained, her gaze fixed on the city lights below. “You’ve got the manuals, you’ve got the training. But then you run into some weird, undocumented quirk, and you have to throw all that out the window and just figure it out as you go. It’s frustrating. And sometimes you just need to gently stroke it just right. Then when you finally get it running smoothly…” A slow, satisfied smile touched her lips. “There’s nothing quite like it.”

I laughed, a warm, genuine sound. “I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” I took a sip of my drink, the smoky warmth spreading through my chest.

We chatted for a while longer, our conversation drifting from the intricacies of plasma conduit repair to the eternal, galaxy-spanning debate of whether tabs or spaces were the superior way to format code. Torka, it turned out, was a firm believer in tabs. The heathen.

“So, you must code a lot then?” I asked, trying to gauge her allegiance in the holy war.

Torka snorted, looking at me over the rim of her glass. “Gods no, I can’t stand desk work.” She took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “But back in the day, when I used to… liberate… ground-cars, I wrote a few scripts to disable their security modules.”

A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Now, I mostly write scripts to jailbreak my own tools. Some scummy bastard corporation wants me to pay a subscription to unlock a feature that’s already built right into the hardware.”

I nodded, impressed. “That’s…”

“Theft?” she offered with a wry grin.

“I was going to say brilliant,” I finished, raising my glass. She chuckled and clinked her tumbler against mine.

⸻

Bedtime was a ritual I had come to both anticipate and dread. The girls had maintained their strict embargo on any and all amorous activities until I was healed. It was a sensible, caring, and incredibly frustrating decision.

That didn’t mean my days weren’t filled with a constant, low-level thrum of horniness. Cuddling on the couch was my default state of being in the apartment. Making out with one of the gorgeous women of my pack had become a common way to pass the time during the long days.

It was a rare day that I didn’t have my face thrust into a pair of soft, furry breasts, or catch a glimpse of a half-naked Rakiri wandering from the bathroom to her bedroom. The apartment was a constant, glorious parade of side-boob, under-boob, and tight, furry asses accentuated by the hypnotic sway of a wagging tail.

Kaelis was a little more circumspect. She was still getting comfortable in the den-like atmosphere of the apartment, and she never quite reached the same level of casual near-nudity as the other girls. Maybe she didn’t feel completely at home yet, as a guest in their space. Or maybe the trauma of her first, disastrous sexual experience still lingered, a quiet shadow of self-consciousness.

But every night, after the other girls had said their goodnights and retired to their own rooms, she would slip into my bed. Some nights she put on a repeat performance of that first, incredible night. But every night, I would fall asleep with a naked, metaphorically purring Kaelis wrapped around me, her body a warm, perfect fit against mine.

I was almost certain they were doing it on purpose. A coordinated, strategic campaign of magnificent torture designed to drive me absolutely, completely insane.

⸻

Kaelis had an away game, a two-day trip that would see her gone for the entirety of Shel. The next morning, I insisted on hobbling down with her to the waiting auto-ground-car. At the curb, I pulled her into a long, deep hug, burying my face in the clean, familiar scent of her hair. The kiss that followed was slow and passionate, a silent promise and a reluctant goodbye all at once. She clung to me for a moment longer before finally pulling away, her golden eyes full of a soft, sad warmth. With a final, whispered “I’ll miss you,” she jumped into the car, tossing her large team bag in ahead of her.

I watched as it purred away down the street, a small knot of loneliness already forming in my chest. It was the first night we’d be apart since I’d gotten out of the hospital, and the thought of the cold, empty space in the bed beside me was a surprisingly sharp pang.

That evening, noticing the slump in my shoulders, the remaining three girls declared it a movie night. We piled onto the couch, a chaotic, comfortable tangle of limbs and fur. They had chosen a classic, a trashy romance holo-vid that, according to Tian, was a classic.

The plot was strangely familiar, but distorted by Imperium culture. A handsome, ambitious young Shil’vati man leaves his small, provincial town for the glittering towers of the “big smoke.” He lands a prestigious job as a legal assistant in a high-powered corporate law firm, and for a while, he’s living the dream.

But then, a call from home changes everything. One of his mothers is sick, in the hospital, and he rushes back to his childhood home. There, amidst the familiar sights and sounds of his youth, he reconnects with his childhood best friend, the girl next door. The spark between them, long dormant, reignites. He finds himself torn between the life of success and ambition he’s built for himself and the simple, profound happiness he finds in her company.

In the end, as he stands on the platform of the local mass transit hub, his ticket back to the big city in his hand, his childhood friend confesses her love, tearfully asking him to marry her. He says yes, and the credits roll over a shot of them kissing, the small-town sunset painting the sky behind them.

I found myself strangely captivated and detached. The gender-swapped roles, the cultural nuances that were so different from Earth, it was all so familiar and yet so completely alien. The girls, however, were completely engrossed, though their reactions were critical grunts and loud critiques of the female lead’s strategy.

I enjoyed the movie, but more than that, I was enjoying the simple, profound comfort of being surrounded by them. Tian and Zyl had claimed the spots on either side of me, their large, warm bodies a solid, reassuring presence. Bria sat on a cushion on the floor in front of me, her head resting against my good knee.

As the movie played on, my hand idly found its way to her head, my fingers sinking into the thick, soft fur of her neck. It was an unconscious, comforting gesture, my fingers gently stroking, playing with the soft, velvety texture of her ears. She leaned into my touch with a soft sigh, a low, contented purr rumbling in her chest.

When the final credits rolled and the lights came up, the girls let out a collective, satisfied sigh. Tian and Zyl started dissecting the film’s plot, their voices a cheerful, post-movie buzz. But when I looked down at Bria, she seemed a million miles away. Her eyes were unfocused, her expression blissfully content.

After the movie finished and the credits rolled, a comfortable, sleepy quiet settled over the living room. It was Tian who broke it, stretching her long limbs with a groan. “I’m not ready for bed yet,” she announced. “Let’s go for a walk.” The suggestion was met with a series of relaxed, agreeable murmurs. I bundled up, pulling on a hoodie against the cool night air.

The walk to the harbor, the same one Zyl had taken me to what felt like a lifetime ago, was slow and unhurried. Thanks to the magic of Imperium medicine, my ribs hardly twinged anymore, and my leg had been getting stronger every day. The sharp, fiery pain had long since faded to a dull, persistent ache. I could walk on it now, with a limp that was both frustrating and a grim reminder of how close I’d come to losing it altogether. I wondered if the limp would fade, or if it was now a permanent part of me. Maybe I’d get a cool walking stick out of it, a silver-topped cane like some old-timey gentleman adventurer.

Down at the harbor, the world was hushed and still. The dark water of the lake lapped gently against the stone docks, the rhythmic sound a soothing counterpoint to the hum of the city. We found the same oversized bench, and the four of us squeezed onto it, a comfortable, companionable huddle.

I had imagined I’d be cold, the night air biting through my hoodie. But that didn’t seem likely to be a problem for me anymore. The girls took the chill as an open invitation to press closer, their collective body heat a furnace against the night.

Zyl, ever the pragmatist, decided on a simpler solution. With a low rumble of amusement, she simply reached out, scooped me up, and settled me onto her lap, my back resting against her broad, furry chest. Her arms wrapped around me, pulling me into an embrace that was both possessive and profoundly comforting. Tian and Bria flanked me, their warm, furry bodies a solid presence on either side.

We sat like that for a long time, watching the city lights bleed across the dark water, our quiet chatter a soft murmur in the vast, peaceful night.

After the walk home, and a hot shower, I got into bed alone. The vast, empty expanse of Bria’s massive mattress felt less like a luxury and more like a lonely, cold island. I tried to sleep, I really did. I closed my eyes and focused on the quiet sounds of the apartment settling for the night. I heard Tian’s door click shut, followed a little while later by the soft murmur of voices and another door closing as Zyl and Bria retired to their room. Then, silence.

I tossed and turned, the clean sheets tangling around my legs. The absence of Kaelis was a physical ache, a hollow space in the bed where her warmth and the solid, reassuring weight of her body should have been. I missed the feeling of her arms wrapped around me, the soft puff of her breath against my head, the simple, profound safety of her presence.

Eventually, exhaustion won out. I drifted into a fitful, uneasy sleep, only to be dragged into the dark, murky waters of my own mind. The dream was a chaotic, fragmented replay of that night. The click of the lock, the impossibly fast shadow, the brutal, efficient fists. I felt the wet crack of my nose breaking, tasted the hot, metallic tang of my own blood choking me. Over and over, I heard the wet, splintering sound of my own bones snapping, a sound that echoed in the dreamscape with a horrifying clarity.

I woke with a choked gasp, my body drenched in a cold sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

A phantom agony flared in my leg, a searing, grinding heat so real I almost cried out. My hand shot down to reassure myself the limb was still whole, not the shattered ruin my memory was screaming about. I lay there, panting in the dark, the silence of the room a suffocating blanket.

The silence pressed in, threatening, amplifying the frantic rhythm of my own heart. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t be alone. I pushed myself out of bed, my movements clumsy and jerky. I hobbled to the door, my bare feet silent on the cool floor. There was space in Tian’s room, but the idea of navigating the minefield of her floor in the dark was a sketchy proposition. Besides, right now, the thought of being surrounded, of having the combined, solid presence of both Bria and Zyl, was an irresistible pull.

I stumble-limped out of my room and through the common area to their door. The handle made a soft click as I turned it, the sound loud in the quiet of the apartment. I eased the door open and peered inside. In the dim light filtering through the window, I could see the two large, furry shapes in the bed. Bria was sound asleep, a soft, rhythmic snore escaping her.

But Zyl’s eyes were open, a pair of luminous green orbs in the darkness, and they were locked onto me. She didn’t speak, but as I drew closer, she shifted slightly and lifted the edge of the blanket. I carefully, awkwardly, crawled onto the mattress, finding the space between them.

The moment I settled, I felt Zyl’s arm come around me, pulling my shirtless body into her chest. The soft, thick fur of her breasts pressed against my back. The texture felt… odd, alien-a thousand individual strands of soft fur prickling against my bare skin.

Then, something inside me just… clicked. The prickly sensation vanished, replaced by a profound, all-encompassing warmth. All the tension I’d been holding, the fear, the loneliness, it all just drained away, leaving a deep sense of peace in its wake. This wasn’t fur; it was Zyl, it was safety and comfort. It was home. It was pack.

My eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to me. Just as I was drifting off, I heard Bria sniff the air, a soft, sleepy sound. Then I felt her shuffle closer, her arm coming around to pull my own arm into her chest, her soft purr a gentle vibration against my skin.

⸻

I woke slowly, pulled from a deep, dreamless sleep by movement. My head was pillowed on something impossibly soft and warm, the steady, rhythmic beat of a heart a soothing drum against my ear. I was half-splayed over Zyl’s large, powerful frame, my cheek nestled in the thick, soft fur of one of her breasts. One of my arms was thrown across her torso.

The other side of the bed was empty. Bria had just gone. From the main living area, I could hear the quiet domestic sounds of someone moving about in the kitchen.

I lifted my head, my neck a little stiff, and looked at Zyl. Her green eyes were open, a pair of calm, luminous pools in the dim morning light, and they were fixed on me, her expression a mask of quiet contentment. I offered a small, sleepy smile, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment. She returned it, a slow, lazy grin that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

With a soft sigh, I let my head fall back onto its furry pillow, her presence a welcome anchor in the waking world. Still half-addled by sleep, my free hand began to drift, tracing a slow, unconscious path and finding its way to the heavy curve of her other breast.

The fur there was incredibly soft, a fine, downy pelt over the firm swell of muscle and flesh. I cupped its heavy weight, my fingers sinking into the deep brown softness. As if with a will of their own, they sought out the peak, closing around the large, dark nub of her nipple. I idly rolled the firm nipple between my thumb and forefinger. As I did, I felt the other nipple, the one my cheek was pressed against, harden in response.

It was only then, as I felt Zyl shift underneath me, that the full reality of the situation filtered through my sleep-fogged brain. I was wearing nothing but my underpants. And Zyl… Zyl wasn’t wearing anything at all. The realization sent a jolt of heat straight to my groin. My cock, which had been soft with sleep, began to harden, pressing against the warm, solid muscle of her thigh.

As my awareness sharpened, a mischievous grin spread across my face. It was Zyl, with her calm authority and quiet strength, who was almost certainly the ringleader of the pack’s ’no sexy times until Sten is healed’ embargo. It was a sweet, caring, and deeply frustrating policy. And she, as its architect, deserved a little payback. If I had to be frustrated, then so did she.

My actions feigned a sleepy deliberation. I shifted, snuggling closer, letting my leg drift down as if by accident to rest between her powerful thighs. My hand continued its lazy exploration of her breast, my fingers now circling the hard nipple with a purposeful slowness, ‘sleepily’ stroking the soft curve of her breast.

Zyl reacted just as I’d hoped. Her deep, steady breathing hitched for a moment before quickening. I felt a tremor run through the muscles of her back, a small, restless movement that she tried to suppress.

I pressed my advantage, deliberately pushing my erection against her leg, a hard, insistent pressure she couldn’t possibly ignore. I gave up the pretense of being half-asleep.

Lifting my head from its furry pillow, my eyes met hers for a heart-stopping second before I leaned down and took the hard nipple that had been pressed against my cheek into my mouth.

I teased the tip with the flick of my tongue, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from her. Then I began to suckle gently, my lips and tongue working on the sensitive nub. A louder groan escaped her this time, a low, guttural sound. She shifted again, her powerful thighs parting just a little more.

I pushed my leg deeper between them, feeling the humid heat radiating from her crotch, proof of her arousal.

My hand glided away from her breast, beginning a slow descent. My fingers combed through the thick fur of her stomach, mapping the taut muscles that clenched under my touch. The trail continued south, dipping lower until my fingers brushed against the even softer, downy fur at the apex of her thighs.

I found what I was looking for, the plump, outer lips of her quim, already damp. My fingers began to gently trace the outline, teasing the sensitive flesh without going deeper.

A low, desperate sound, half-groan, half-whimper, was torn from her throat, a sound she tried and failed to stifle. “Sten,” she breathed, her voice a strained, ragged whisper. “…What are you doing?”

“I’m teasing you, Zyl,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble against her skin. My fingers continued their deliberate torment, now circling the hard, sensitive nub of her clit. A gentle shiver wracked her frame, and her breath hitched in a sharp, audible gasp.

“Why?” she asked, her voice tight with frustration that was clearly warring with her rising arousal.

“Because I’m fucking horny,” I admitted, my voice a low, rough whisper. “I’ve been watching you flaunt your incredible body for the last week, and I haven’t been able to do anything about it.”

To emphasize my point, I ran my fingers between her already slick, parted pussy lips, teasing the slightly furry entrance to her depths. Her breath hitched again, and I felt a fresh gush of wetness coat my hand.

Suddenly, she moved. With a surprising, explosive strength, she pushed me off her, rolling me onto my back on the bed. She propped herself up on one elbow, her green eyes wide and dark, her jaw tight, her brow furrowed in a battle against her own desire.

“Sten, we can’t,” she said, her voice a strained whisper. “You have to heal!”

I stared up at her. A hot spike of frustration shot through me. “Fine,” I bit out the word. “I’ll take care of it myself. This is driving me insane.”

With a jerky, angry motion, I pushed my underpants down, freeing my painfully hard cock. I took the hand that was still slick with her juices and wrapped it around my shaft, beginning to stroke myself slowly, looking at her naked and ready body.

Zyl just stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something wanton. Her gaze was locked on the sight before her: my bare chest rising and falling with my ragged breaths, my hand moving over my hard cock, coated in the glistening evidence of her own arousal.

A low groan escaped her lips, a sound of pure, frustrated need. “Fine,” she growled, her voice a ragged whisper. “What if I blow you?”

“For the love of the goddess, yes,” I breathed, my words desperate. Right now it was difficult to think clearly.

Before I could move, before I could even process her surrender, she pounced. She moved over me, a fluid, predatory motion, settling on all fours, her powerful legs straddling my head. I could feel her breath on my hard cock. Her giant, furry breasts dangled down, a soft, heavy curtain that blocked my view of her face. Her taut, furred stomach was just inches from my nose, and the humid, musky scent of her arousal filled my senses.

She pushed my hand out of the way, her touch surprisingly gentle. Then, I felt it. The tentative, wet flick of her tongue against the head of my cock. A low groan escaped me as I felt the texture, and I bucked my hips, a silent, desperate plea for more.

My cock was a slick mess, covered in my own precum, her saliva, and her own juices from my hand. She took a deep breath, and before I could react, her toothed mouth came down and engulfed me.

I groaned again, a raw, guttural sound. Incredible heat enveloped me, a wet, tight sheath that seemed to steal the air from my lungs. Her tongue, rough and insistent, moved over the head, sending shivers of pure pleasure down my spine. I could feel the faint, gentle brush of her teeth against my shaft, a thrilling, dangerous sensation. Before I could even fully process what was happening, I felt her nose press against my balls as she took me down her throat.

A deep groan was torn from my throat, and I thrust upwards involuntarily, my hands reaching up to grip the thick, soft fur of her hips, holding on for dear life.

“Oh, DEEP!” I exclaimed, my eyes boggling.

The world narrowed to the overwhelming sensation, a pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable, wiping all thought from my mind. As she pulled her head back, she deliberately pressed her agile tongue against the sensitive glands on the head of my cock, dragging it across the ridge with a slow, agonizing precision. I gasped, my whole body tensing as I struggled to hold onto the last, fraying threads of my control.

My eyes, which had been squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to focus, fluttered open. From my position on the bed, my gaze traveled down the long, powerful line of Zyl’s body. Past the heavy, pendulous weight of her breasts that swayed with each movement, over the taut, furred plane of her stomach, to the dark, inviting delta of fur between her thighs.

The fur was wet, slicked down with her own arousal, glistening proof of the effect my own desperate sounds were having on her.

A sudden need to reciprocate, to taste her, to give her the same pleasure she was giving me, seized me. I tried to distract myself from the exquisite torture of her mouth, tried to scoot up the bed, stretching to reach her with my tongue.

Zyl growled, a low, guttural sound that vibrated down my shaft, buried deep in her throat.

The possessive sound was a vibration that shot straight to my brain, short-circuiting everything and sending a fresh wave of fire through my veins. She moved one of her large, powerful hands from the bed, grabbing my good leg and holding it down with an effortless strength, pinning me to the mattress and ending any attempt to move.

I grunted, a sound of pure, frustrated pleasure. I had to focus. I was a human man, for goddess’ sake-the famed stamina, the legendary sexual prowess… all useless. I was seconds from blowing my load like a fumbling teenager getting his dick sucked for the first time.

She was incredible. Aggressive. She took me deep into her throat with every bob of her head, her tongue a relentless force. It moved over my shaft, focusing on the sensitive head of my cock with an agonizing precision that was driving me insane. I gripped her hips even tighter, a strangled cry tearing from my throat. Zyl just purred in response, a low, contented rumble that vibrated through my erection, a clear sign of her own satisfaction.

There was a sound from the door, a soft, almost inaudible click. I glanced towards it and saw a pair of wide, astonished amber eyes peering through the small gap in the doorway. Bria.

Zyl didn’t react, her focus entirely on the task at hand, but a jolt of pure adrenaline shot through me. My cock jumped in her throat, impossibly harder. We were being watched. Bria was seeing this, and that made everything hotter, more intense.

“Fuck, Zyl,” I gasped, my voice cracking as my hips began to buck. “I’m going to…”

She didn’t let me finish. She bobbed down again, swallowing me to the base, her mouth pressing hard against the base of my member.

I groaned, a long, guttural sound of pure, unrestrained release as I came. For each pulse of my climax, I felt Zyl swallow, the small, convulsive movements of her throat milking me, drawing more and more from me, making me cum harder than I thought possible.

Through the haze of my own pleasure, some small part of my brain registered another sound from the doorway. A soft, almost inaudible whimper.

Finally, the storm subsided. Every muscle in my body unspooled as the last tremor faded, and I slumped back against the mattress, my hands falling away from their death grip on Zyl’s hips.

Zyl let go of my leg, her body uncoiling from looming over me. She moved to the side, sitting on the bed facing me. Her nipples, I could see, were still rock-hard points against the soft fur of her back. She licked her lips, a slow, deliberate motion, her face a picture of pure, possessive happiness.

I just lay there, taking her in. The stunning, powerful masterpiece of her body, the sheer scale of her. Muscles rippled under her deep brown fur with every small movement-a constant, subtle hint of the predator coiled within her strength, her claws, her teeth.

She finished savoring the taste of me, and focused on my face. Her green eyes were lidded, dark with the satisfaction of our encounter. She let her gaze travel slowly over my body, taking in my bare chest, the line of my hips, the tangle of sheets around my legs.

It was only then that I noticed my underpants were gone. I had a vague, hazy memory of a ripping sound, a detail lost in the heat of the moment. Had Zyl torn them off? I had no idea where they’d ended up.

“That was incredible,” I said, my voice a low, rough rasp. “Holy shit.”

Zyl’s smug grin widened. “Yeah,” she rumbled, her voice a low, satisfied purr. “I’ve been practicing…”

Her voice trailed off. Her gaze, which had been roaming over my chest, dropped lower. Her eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise in their green depths.

“Wait,” she breathed, her voice suddenly a mixture of confusion and hunger. “Why are you still hard?”

“You,” I replied, my voice low. I gestured with my hand at her stunning, powerful body. “You’re why I’m still hard.”

I continued, my voice showing my need. “It’s been a week, Zyl. A week of all of you… of you… flaunting yourself, and I haven’t been able to do anything about it. I want you.”

Her expression showed frustration, not at me but at herself. Her own naked want, so evident a moment ago, now battled with a deep, protective concern. “I want you too, Sten,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of a longing that mirrored my own. “But we can’t. Your leg… I could hurt you.”

“We walked to the harbor last night,” I countered, my voice firm. “I’m fine. I want to fuck you, Zyl.”

The conflict on her face was a visible storm. Her jaw clenched, her green eyes darting between my face and my still-hard cock. After a long, charged moment, she let out a low, guttural growl, a sound of pure, frustrated surrender. “Fuck it,” she muttered. The words were a crack of lightning, and she lunged.

For a single instant, my brain flashed back to that night. The memory of the driver, a dark shadow leaping at me. But there was no fear. This was Zyl. My Zyl. I knew with bone-deep certainty she would never hurt me. I didn’t flinch. I reached up, my arms open, trying to catch the magnificent predator who was coming for me.

Her lips crashed into mine, not with tenderness, but with a bruising force. Her tongue attacked my mouth, a rough, wet invasion that tasted faintly of me. I didn’t care. I met her ferocity with my own.

I felt her legs climb over me, her powerful thighs straddling my hips. The weight of her furred breasts smothered my chest, her hard nipples dragging across mine in an sublime torment. I felt her hunch over me, her body a warm, heavy weight, as she ground her crotch against mine. One of her large hands reached down, wrapping around my erection with a possessive strength.

I didn’t see any of this. My eyes were locked on hers, my arms wrapped around her, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

Finally, she pulled back, her tongue retreating from my mouth, leaving me breathless. “Fuck,” she panted, her voice a ragged whisper. “I need you in me,” she panted, grinding her hips down against mine.

She moved, her movements fluid and sure. She ran the head of my cock through her already soaked pussy lips, a slow, deliberate tease that made me groan. Then, she lined up my shaft and sank down on it.

Both of us groaned at the contact. I felt the scalding heat of her slick insides sheathing my shaft, the press of her powerful thighs against my hips as she sat on me, taking me completely.

A long, shuddering sigh escaped her, her entire body relaxing onto mine in a moment of pure bliss.

“Oh, Sten,” she exclaimed, her voice thick with pleasure. “I needed this. I needed you inside me.”

The door clicked again. I glanced over, my heart hammering. Bria had moved fully into the room, her back pressed against the closed door. The tight, yoga-like short leggings she’d been wearing were pushed halfway down her legs, her own hand moving between her thighs as she touched herself, her other hand covering her mouth, biting her lip to keep from making a sound.

Zyl turned her head, looking at her for a moment. Then ignored her, focusing on me.

I groaned, a raw, primal sound, and tried to buck my hips, to move, to thrust up into her.

Zyl growled, a low, possessive sound. She moved one hand to my chest, her palm pressing flat against me, pinning me to the bed with an effortless strength. Her green eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. “Don’t,” she ordered, her voice a low, definitive rumble. “Move.”

Then she began to move. Not in some frantic, frenzied fucking, but slowly, deliberately. She gyrated her hips, a small, circular motion that ground her clit into my pubic bone, sending bolts of pure, unadulterated pleasure through both of us.

Her hand left my chest, rising to grasp her own massive, furred breasts. She squeezed with an aggressive, almost brutal force that made my own breath hitch, kneading them much harder than I ever would have dared.

She pinched her nipples, drawing them out, her eyes rolling up into her head as she closed them, completely lost in the sensation of my cock inside her, of her own rough touch on her sensitive flesh. I felt her molten insides pulse around me as she moaned, a low, guttural sound.

I was desperate to move, to do something, anything. I reached down, my hands finding her hips, trying to move them faster, to drive myself deeper.

Her eyes snapped open, a flash of green fire. She growled again, a sound that was pure predator. She let go of her nipples and reached down, her large hands capturing both of my wrists, pinning them to the bed beside me. She leaned down, her face just inches from mine, her breath hot and musky. “Don’t,” she growled again, her voice a low, possessive command. “Move.”

As if to punctuate her point, her long, furry tail snaked down, wrapping around my good leg, a final, possessive claim that fixed me to the spot.

It was blissful agony. I was completely at her mercy. Every slow, deliberate circle of her hips was profoundly torturous. She paused, her body shuddering, her breath hitching. Her arms trembled, her grip on my wrists tightening into steel bands. Then, she relaxed, and the maddening, deliberate rhythm began again.

My gaze, which had been locked on Zyl’s face, flickered to the side, to the figure in the doorway. To Bria.

She was a vision of lust. Both of her hands were stuffed between her thighs, one desperately finger-fucking herself. Even from across the room, I could see the slick wetness that coated her fingers, and I could hear the soft, squelching sound as she thrust two of them in and out of her depths. Her other hand was a blur, a frantic, rubbing motion against her clit.

Her mouth was open, her breath coming in ragged, heavy pants that were audible even over Zyl’s low moans. Her tongue dangled from her lips, a wet, pink flag of surrender to her own overwhelming lust.

Her amber eyes, wide and dark with arousal, were fixed on us, on me and Zyl, on the sight of us joined together. As my gaze met hers, a soft, pathetic whimper escaped her, but she didn’t stop. If anything, her movements became more frantic, more desperate.

My attention snapped back to Zyl as she stopped her slow, torturous grinding. Her whole body went rigid, a bowstring pulled taut. I felt the muscles deep inside her pulse around me, a series of tight, involuntary squeezes. A low, guttural moan rumbled deep in her chest, the sound vibrating down my cock, buried deep inside her. “Oh, goddess, Sten,” she groaned.

Zyl’s groan was a deeper, more resonant sound this time, a sound that vibrated through me. “Fuck,” she panted, her voice a ragged whisper. “I need to…”

Her green eyes, which had been glazed over with pleasure, snapped into focus, locking onto mine. “Tell me,” she commanded, her voice a low, urgent growl. “If anything hurts.”

Then she began to move, slowly at first, achingly. She lifted her hips, dragging her slick, hot insides up the length of my shaft before sinking back down with a deliberate, torturous slowness.

I couldn’t help it. A desperate urge took over, and I thrust upwards, meeting her descent with a powerful surge of my own. Zyl gasped, a sharp, surprised sound, but she didn’t stop me.

We settled into a rhythm then, slow but forceful. The sound of our bodies slapping together, a wet, rhythmic counterpoint to our ragged breaths.

Zyl’s heaving, furred tits swung in my face, the musky, female scent of her arousal filling my head. Her hard nipples dragged across my chest when the angle was just right-an exquisite torment.

She was moaning now, her head thrown back, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. Her hands still held my wrists pinned to the bed, a silent declaration of her control.

“Oh, god, Zyl,” I groaned, my own voice a raw, desperate rasp. “I want you. You feel incredible.”

From the doorway, I heard a muffled cry, a small, choked, sobbing sound from Bria as the squelching of her own frantic ministrations stopped.

The sound, the knowledge that she was watching, that she was lost in the sight of us, only fueled me. I started thrusting harder, as hard as I could manage, and Zyl responded in kind, her movements becoming more powerful, more desperate.

It was too much, and not nearly enough. The sight of Zyl’s face, contorted in pleasure. The slick, wet sound of our bodies colliding. The sharp, musky scent of our sweat mingling in the air. And from the doorway, the sound of Bria’s ragged, desperate breathing, watching us, her body slick with her own craving. Zyl, so powerful, and yet so completely lost to her own pleasure. And my own desperate, overwhelming need for both of them.

I looked up, my gaze locking with Zyl’s. “I need to cum inside you,” I gasped, the words torn from me.

She groaned, her voice a low, guttural purr. “Do it,” she commanded, her voice a raw, possessive growl. “Fill me, my Sten.”

Zyl leaned down, forcing her mouth against mine. Her lips crashed against mine, all aggression and uncontrolled need. Her tongue roved shamelessly inside my mouth. All her usual reserve shattered, forgotten in a desperate attempt to claim me, marking my lips and face with her slick, wet muscle.

Her words, the possessiveness of her kiss, shattered the last of my control. I thrust upwards one last time, an uncontrollable groan tearing from my throat as I felt a white-hot coil of tension tighten in my gut.

For an endless moment, the only thing in the universe was the deep forest green of her eyes, and then my world dissolved into pure, shuddering sensation.

My swollen member erupted, spasming as my cum poured into her burning heat. Ropes of my semen crashing against the quivering walls of her depths. Each surge a fresh wave of blinding pleasure.

Zyl moaned into my mouth, her pelvis crashing down hard on my hips, her own body seizing as she ground her clit against me one last time. A deep groan rumbled through her - a sound of bone-deep satisfaction and lingering, insatiable desire. Her insides clenched around my still-pulsing cock as her whole body shuddered with the force of her release.

She slumped forward, her entire weight a welcome, crushing pressure. My wrists were freed as she supported some of her weight on her elbows. I could feel the tremor that still ran through her powerful muscles as her soft, furred breasts flattened against my chest. She pressed into the curve of my neck, her breath coming in hot, ragged pants against my skin.

Just as Zyl started to nuzzle into my neck, a contented purr rumbling through her, the bedroom door burst open with a crash as Tian burst into the room.

Bria, who had been slumped against it, recovering from her own private, vicarious orgasm, came sprawling into the room. She landed in a heap on the floor, her legs splayed lewdly, her soaked yoga shorts now tangled around her ankles.

Zyl didn’t move. She ignored the sudden intrusion completely, reveling in the quiet afterglow, our bodies still pressed together, a warm, sticky mess that was slowly spreading to the sheets.

But the quiet didn’t last. Tian, her data-slate clutched in one hand, her face a mask of pure, frantic panic. “Sten’s gone!” she shouted, her voice a high-pitched wail. “He’s not in the apartment and his bed’s cold!”

Her frantic gaze swept the room, and then she saw us. Her eyes widened, taking in the scene: me and Zyl, naked. Her laying on me. My softening dick still inside her. Bria, a dazed, lewd heap on the floor, one hand still resting on her crotch, her fur wet and matted flat.

Her jaw dropped. The frantic panic drained from her face, replaced by a flash of undiluted envy that quickly curdled into exasperation.

“Brotherfucker!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of shock and outrage. “Deep take you, Zyl! The ‘Sten Boner Blocker’ was your idea! And now I’m going to be the last to…” Her voice trailed off.

I smirked.

She let out a frustrated, undefinable, raw sound and stamped her foot. “Fuck!” she shouted, before her expression shifted again, a flicker of memory returning. “Oh, right. Lyra’s trying to call you.” She thrust the data-slate toward me, its screen glowing with an ongoing call.

⸻

Chapter 18 - Creative Destruction

It’s a truth we all know but never acknowledge. Plans, goals, intentions, and desires-all are meaningless ghosts, formless whispers in the back of the mind. They have no weight, no pull on the present moment. We treat them with the casual neglect of a hypothetical future, a ‘someday’.

But then, a fleeting opportunity is presented, a deadline set. It’s a threat of execution - act now, or the moment dies. The abstract intention becomes an urgent reality, a whirlwind of action. This is the magic and the terror of a deadline: it doesn’t wait for inspiration, it manufactures it out of pure pressure, compelling us to abandon the search for the perfect moment and simply begin.

And just like that, our abstract intention, the packs plan for safety had become an urgent reality. While I was lying, covered in the evidence of the last hour, Lyra had set a deadline.

She would be here shortly. Instead of responding with a formal missive, the ISRP sent a representative. The Interior would be here in less than an hour to collect us all.

I hobbled to the shower as fast as my legs would carry me, not bothering to put anything on. After this morning, the girls had all seen everything, so I didn’t care. The hot spray was a welcome shock, washing away the evidence of Zyl and my activities. I rinsed quickly, grabbed a towel, and headed back to my room, still drying myself off as I limped across the common area.

Bria rushed out of the bedroom, her eyes fixed on me. She almost walked into the bathroom doorframe, her amber eyes wide with a hungry look.

Tian was lying on the couch, enjoying the show, her chin propped up on her hand. A slow, appreciative smirk spread across her face as her gaze traveled over my still-damp body. I grinned at her. I had to do something nice for her… maybe she’d be interested in some naked gaming?

I made it to my room and started throwing on a pair of clean sweatpants. Just as I was pulling a t-shirt over my head, the sharp, insistent buzz of the apartment’s intercom cut through the air. “Come on up!” I heard Tian’s voice call out, her tone a little too cheerful as she watched us run around trying to get decent.

Cursing under my breath, I hobbled back out into the living area just as the front door swung open and Lyra stepped inside.

She didn’t even say hello. Her eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the room before locking onto me. “Sten,” she said, her voice leaving no room for pleasantries. “You have forty-seven minutes. A car is coming to take you to the Vors Conservatoire. You need to be dressed to impress.”

My mind blanked, a little overwhelmed with the sudden urgency. “Huh? What’s the Conservatoire?”

Lyra blinked, a flicker of surpris e on her face. “It’s the big glass and steel dome building,” she explained. “All the nobles love holding events there because it shows ‘progress’ and whatnot.”

I grimaced, the memory of the Taivanrikus Circle dinner and the cold, pulsing blue light of the building still fresh in my mind. But I nodded and asked, “Okay, is that where we’re meeting the IRSP lady?”

Lyra nodded, a triumphant glint in her eyes, “Yes, the Executive Undersecretary to the Director is here, in Vors. And you, my dear Sten, will be doing photoshoots, an interview, and various other B-roll shots for the Inter-System Reassignment Program’s new marketing campaign.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. It wasn’t that this was unexpected; becoming a public face for human integration was the cornerstone of our plan. But it had always been… abstract. But now, now it was real. “What?” I managed to get out, my voice a croak. “So quickly?”

Lyra nodded, her professional demeanor firmly in place. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I was contacted this morning. It seems that integrating humans is proving to be a little more… difficult than the Imperium anticipated.” She paused, her eyes sweeping over us. “They’re desperate for good news stories, for any proof that their grand project isn’t a complete disaster.”

A slow, triumphant smile touched her lips. “So, we have to go. Now. Go have a proper shower.” Her gaze flickered over to Zyl and Tian, who were still standing in the living room. Tian’s hand flew to her mouth, while Zyl’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face.

“You all need to come,” Lyra commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. “They’ll want pictures of the happy pack.” She looked them up and down. “Bring a change of clothes. The most formal thing you have, and some casual stuff too. Pack a bag.”

She looked at our stunned, unmoving faces and clapped her hands together, a sharp, authoritative sound that broke the spell. “Go!” Lyra barked, herding us like unruly turox. “Move! Get it done! This is your ticket to freedom!”

The apartment was a vortex of controlled chaos. Clothes were pulled from closets and stuffed into bags in anticipation of various photo shoot needs. Proper showers were taken in a flurry of steam and efficiency, the girls cycling through the bathroom with an impressive, almost military precision.

After my own, thorough shower, I found myself in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully trimming my beard. Zyl crowded behind me, the reflection of her fascinated face in the mirror. She watched my every move with an intense, almost scientific curiosity.

Zyl finally broke the silence, her voice a low, thoughtful rumble. “Do you trim the hair around your cock, too?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed, a warm, easy sound that seemed to surprise her. I met her gaze in the mirror, a mischievous glint in my own eyes. “I can,” I said, my voice a low purr. “Would you like that?”

Zyl considered the question for a long moment, a thoughtful, almost clinical expression on her face. Then she just shrugged. “Sure,” she said, her tone casual. “Let’s try it.”

I met her eyes again in the mirror, a smirk playing on my lips. “Ok. Tomorrow. You can help.” A leering grin spread across her face in response, but I cut it short. “Just don’t slip!”

Zyl’s grin vanished, replaced by a look of mock horror as the implication of my words hit her.

Amidst the chaos, Bria was the quiet eye of the storm. While the rest of us rushed about, she moved with a quiet, unhurried grace. She packed a small bag with a practiced efficiency, then disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the rich, comforting smell of freshly made tea and sausage rolls filled the apartment.

We all paused in our frantic preparations, drawn to the kitchen by the promise of food and a moment of peace. We sat down together, a small, quiet island in the storm of our own making, and took a few minutes and ate together.

Afterwards, I pulled Bria into my arms, and gave her a long, passionate kiss. “Thank you,” I whispered.

After breakfast, Lyra took one look at what I was wearing and let out a small, sharp tutting sound. “Sten,” she said, her voice firm with a lawyerly professionalism. “Is that the best you can do?”

I paused a moment, the memory of that night surging behind my eyes. “Well, I did have a brand-new, custom-tailored suit,” I ground out, my voice tight. “But it got covered in blood when I was beaten half to death.”

The words landed like stones in the cheerful, frantic energy of the room, shattering it into an ugly silence. Zyl, who had been helping Tian pack a bag, froze. Tian’s own movements stilled, her usual boisterous energy gone.

Lyra’s face hardened, her professional mask cracking for a moment to reveal a flicker of raw, empathetic pain. She grimaced, a sharp, involuntary motion. “Right,” she said, her voice tight. “Sorry.”

I let out a slow, shaky breath, the anger draining out of me as quickly as it had come, leaving a hollow ache in its place. It wasn’t her fault, she’d been nothing but supportive.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice quiet. “I shouldn’t have snapped.” I ran a hand over my bald head. “Mr. Fen was making me a second suit, a black one. I don’t know if he ever finished it.”

Lyra took a single breath, her expression shuttering as she deliberately compartmentalized the emotion. The empathetic friend vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused lawyer. Her professional focus snapped back into place. Without another word, she whipped out her data-slate, her fingers flying across the screen with a furious, decisive speed.

We spilled out of the apartment in a chaotic tumble. Zyl, a bag slung over each shoulder, gently but firmly guided me down the stairs. The girls were dressed in simple but elegant dresses that highlighted their powerful frames.

Waiting at the curb was a large, dark-grey ground-van. It was unmarked, but its severe, angular lines and matte finish gave it an imposing, official air. It looked heavy, solid, like it could plow through a brick wall without scratching the paint. Maybe it was armored, or maybe that was just the standard-issue look for the Interior.

Standing beside the open side door was a Shil’vati woman in the crisp, severe uniform of an Interior agent. She was all business, her expression impatient as she gestured for us to get in. “Embark. Now,” she commanded.

We piled into the back, the interior surprisingly spacious but spartan. The agent slid the heavy door shut behind us with a solid thud, locking us in with a distinct, final thump-hiss. The windows were tinted so darkly they were practically opaque, plunging us into a claustrophobic twilight, cutting us off from the world outside.

The bench seats were hard plastic, clearly designed for large marines in full battle armor, not a human male in civilian clothes. A faint, sterile, antiseptic smell hung in the air, with drainage grates set into the floor. The entire space was designed to be hosed clean. A low hum was the only sound as the van pulled away from the curb with a smooth, powerful acceleration.

A cold spike of adrenaline shot through me, and my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This was it. The point of no return. I looked over at Lyra, who sat opposite me, a picture of calm, professional focus. She met my gaze and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent reassurance that she had this under control. It helped, but the knot of dread in my stomach remained.

It was Tian who broke the tense silence, her voice a low, worried murmur. “What about Kaelis?” she asked, looking at Lyra. “She doesn’t know about any of this.”

Lyra just nodded, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “It’s taken care of,” she said, her voice calm and steady.

We neared the giant warped bubble of black steel and diamond-paned glass. The sunlight of the morning reflected off its panels, giving it a golden hue. Not the cold blue I remembered. It still looked intimidating, probably not helped by my experience.

There were no crowds or hovering camera drones today. No red carpet, just the heavy quiet of the early morning. The van didn’t slow for the grand main entrance and pulled to a stop next to several other matte black, unmarked auto-vans.

The Interior agent slid the door open, the sudden influx of cool air and the distant sounds of the city a brief, jarring intrusion. We stepped out onto the pavement and were quickly ushered toward the discreet side entrance. A pair of silent, unassuming double doors that sent a jolt of unwelcome familiarity through me.

Inside, we walked down the same long, featureless corridor, our footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. A cold dread washed over me, so potent I could almost feel the phantom feel of the Countess’s arm linked with mine, her grip a silken manacle. Every step was an echo of that night. We stepped into the same small, private lift, the doors hissing shut.

But this time, the lift ascended higher, past the floor where I had met the Countess. The soft chime sounded, and the doors slid open not to a small, opulent antechamber, but to a vast, open-plan space buzzing with a controlled, professional chaos.

Above us, the magnificent glass and steel spiderweb of the dome arched high overhead, the flat grey sky of Dirt, broken by shafts of golden morning light that painted shifting patterns on the floor. It wasn’t so much a ceiling as a captured piece of the sky, its silent, all-seeing eye gazing down on the proceedings below.

To one side of the large room, a set of glass doors led out onto a wide balcony that stretched out on top of the dome. It offered a panoramic view of Vor’s Scratch spread out below.

A crowd of Shil’vati, Rakiri, and even a lone Helkam woman bustled quietly through the space. They were a mix of uniformed Interior personnel and what looked like production staff, all moving with a focused, professional purpose. They were setting up desks, adjusting large lighting rigs, running cables, and arranging other unknown paraphernalia for the day’s shoot.

I followed in Lyra’s wake, her back a solid, unshakeable wall of confidence. She moved with a purpose that seemed to part the sea of bustling production staff, leading us toward a small, quiet group of Shil’vati women who were observing the chaos from a slight distance.

At their center was a Shil woman who, at first glance, seemed almost unassuming. She was of average height for her species, her dark hair pulled back in a simple, severe bun. But her suit was a masterpiece of understated power. It was a deep charcoal grey, impeccably tailored, with subtle, reinforced lines that suggested it was as much a piece of light body armor as it was high fashion.

Lyra didn’t hesitate. She walked right up to the woman, extending a fist. “Lady D’exa,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “I’m Lyra. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person.”

The woman, Lady D’exa, First Executive Undersecretary to the Director of the ISRP, met Lyra’s fist with her own in a firm, solid bump. Her sharp, intelligent golden eyes held Lyra’s for a beat longer than was comfortable before a small, professional smile touched her lips. “The honor is mine, Lyra. Your missive was… compelling.”

Lyra’s smile didn’t falter. “I’m glad it was well-received.” She gestured back towards our group. “May I introduce Pack Pallisen.”

I limped forward, each step sending a dull throb up my leg, a painful rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in my throat. I mirrored Lyra’s gesture, offering my own fist. “Lady D’exa,” I said, my voice a little rough. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She didn’t return the gesture. Her golden eyes flickered to my outstretched hand before her professional smile dissolved into a sharp, disapproving grimace as her gaze swept over my clothes. I quickly lowered my hand, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. Her eyes, cold and assessing, took in my casual slacks and the slightly-too-big button-down shirt.

The silence that followed was heavy and judgmental. Lyra cut through it, her voice a smooth, confident counterpoint to D’exa’s unspoken disapproval. “Mr. Fen of ‘The Hunter’s Stitch’, the highest-rated tailor in Vor’s Scratch, has a set of appropriate human attire ready for pickup,” she stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. “It can be here in twenty minutes.”

Lady D’exa didn’t even look at Lyra. Her gaze shifted to one of the other Shil’vati women who had been standing silently behind her, a figure I hadn’t even registered until now. Without turning her head, D’exa uttered a single, quiet word that carried the force of an absolute command.

“Go.”

The assistant gave a single, sharp nod, turned on her heel, and strode away with a rapid, purposeful stride, already tapping at the data-slate in her hand.

With the assistant dispatched, Lady D’exa turned her full, undivided attention back to me. The brief flicker of disapproval was gone, replaced by a mask of cool, professional efficiency.

“Sten,” she began, her voice crisp and clear, cutting through the low hum of activity in the room. “We’re going to start with an interview.”

She gave my clothes another quick, dismissive glance. “What you’re wearing now will be fine for this part. We’re aiming for a relaxed, informal feel.”

Seeing the apprehension that must have been plain on my face, she offered a smile that was perfectly polite and utterly devoid of warmth. “You don’t need to worry about what you say. I just want you to speak from the heart. Consider this a casual conversation between friends.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but they landed with a cold, hollow thud in the pit of my stomach. The Interior. Friends. Right.

“We’ll edit the footage as needed,” she added, her tone matter-of-fact. “The raw recording will be cut and spliced for the various media campaigns we’re planning to push out. There is nothing you can say that could be ‘wrong’. So please, just relax.”

She paused, her gaze flicking over my shoulder. “After the interview, we’ll sign the formal Provisional Family Unit paperwork. You,” she said, her eyes returning to mine, “and your girls.” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Tian, Zyl, and Bria standing behind me.

I was about to interject, to ask about Kaelis, when the lift door chimed again. The polished steel doors slid open with a soft hiss.

A shell-shocked Kaelis walked out. She was still dressed in her Vipers team tracksuit, a splash of casual rebellion against the severe formality of the Interior agents and the calculated elegance of the other girls. Her golden eyes were wide, her expression a mask of shock as she took in the scene before her.

Then her gaze found me. The shock on her face dissolved, replaced by unfiltered relief. She ran, closing the distance between us in a few long, athletic strides, and wrapped me in a fierce, desperate hug.

She was a whirlwind of frantic energy, her hands running over my back, my shoulders, my head, as if trying to reassure herself that I was real, that I was whole. Her lips found my cheek, my jaw, my mouth, peppering me with frantic kisses between breathless questions. “Are you okay? They just grabbed me, I didn’t know what was happening, I thought… Sten, are you hurt?”

I held her tight, a low laugh rumbling in my chest. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I murmured, reassuring her. After a long moment, she relaxed against me, her body a warm, solid weight.

It was then that Lady D’exa spoke up, her voice a calm, authoritative counterpoint to our emotional reunion. “Lady D’vejin,” she said, stepping forward. “I am Lady D’exa, First Executive Undersecretary to the Director of the ISRP. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

I felt her stiffen against me at the use of her family name. She pulled back slightly but kept a protective arm wrapped around my shoulders, her body pressed firmly against my side. She stood tall, the shell-shocked girl replaced by a noble woman of quiet, unyielding strength. So, some of those noble etiquette lessons she’d always complained about had actually stuck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady D’exa,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “But please, I’m not Lady D’vejin. Just Kaelis.”

Her grip tightened on my shoulder, a silent, possessive claim as her gaze met D’exa’s without wavering. “Or, if formality is required, it’s Lady Kaelis of Pack Pallisen.”

Lady D’exa took a long, considering moment, her sharp golden eyes moving from Kaelis’s defiant face to the proprietary arm she still had wrapped around my shoulders. Finally she gave a single, sharp nod of acknowledgment. “Very well, Lady Kaelis of Pack Pallisen,” she said, her tone formal.

With that settled, she turned her attention back to the room at large. “As I was saying,” she continued, her voice crisp and clear, “today will be a full schedule. We have a series of photo shoots planned.”

She gestured to the bustling production area. “Most of the day will be spent here, at the Conservatoire. We’ll be capturing a variety of scenes. Some will be formal, once your new attire arrives.” A pointed look in my direction. “Others will be more casual, capturing the ‘day in the life’ of a happy, integrated pack.”

A faint, almost wistful smile touched her lips. “I’ve also arranged for a secondary location for a shoot later this week. A small, private cabin just outside of town. The rustic aesthetic will resonate well with some of our target demographics, providing a wholesome, back-to-nature visual narrative.”

I looked from D’exa’s professional, smiling face to the excited, nervous energy of the girls, and a sudden, absurd thought struck me. An interview, formal and casual photo shoots, a second location for more ‘intimate’ pictures… It sounded like a propaganda campaign and a wedding album rolled into one. I guess, in a way, it was.

⸻

The first part of the day, the interview, was deceptively simple. I was led to a small, cordoned-off section of the vast room, where two comfortable-looking chairs were arranged opposite each other, bathed in the soft, diffuse glow of a large lighting panel. The view of Vors was a distant, muted backdrop.

It wasn’t Lady D’exa who sat opposite me, but another Shil’vati woman who had been waiting quietly in the wings. She was younger than D’exa, her features softer, her smile a little more genuine. Or at least, it seemed that way at first.

The moment the camera drone whirred to life, its small red light blinking, she transformed. A switch was flipped, and a bubbly, effervescent personality flooded her features.

Her smile widened, her eyes sparkled with a practiced warmth, and her voice, when she spoke, was a melody of friendly, engaging enthusiasm. “Sten!” she chirped, as if we were old friends catching up. “Thank you so much for taking the time to chat with me today.”

It was a masterful performance, a perfect imitation of genuine interest that was designed to put me completely at ease. And it was almost freaky to watch. The moment the camera cut, the bubbly persona would vanish, replaced by a cool, professional focus as she consulted her notes, only to snap back on the second the red light blinked again.

But damn it if it didn’t work. Before I knew it, we were deep in a wide-ranging conversation that felt less like a propaganda interview and more like a chat at a pub. She asked about my first impressions of Dirt, about the challenges of adapting to a new world. We talked about my life back on Earth, my travels, my work.

She never directly asked me to criticize Earth. Her questions were far more subtle than that. She’d ask about the cost of living in my last apartment on Earth, and I’d find myself explaining the soul-crushing rent and the endless struggle to make ends meet. But she would deftly pivot the conversation just before I could mention that the crippling Earth-to-Imperium credit exchange rate was a part of that struggle.

She zeroed in. “You mentioned you moved between countries a lot, Sten. That must have been so complicated, all the paperwork!”

“You have no idea,” I said with a weary sigh, falling right into her trap, and I knew it even as the words left my mouth. “It was a nightmare. Visas, work permits, proof of funds, medical checks, background checks… every single country had its own mountain of bureaucracy. You’d spend weeks, sometimes months, just waiting for some faceless official in a dusty office to stamp a single form that would let you cross an imaginary line.”

She nodded, her expression a mask of perfect, practiced sympathy. “That sounds dreadful. So much uncertainty. What about the move to Dirt?”

She was a master at it, creating a conversational landscape where the comparison between the ’chaotic, difficult’ life on Earth and the ’safe, prosperous’ life under the Imperium would just… naturally come up. I was a frog in a slowly boiling pot.

I glanced over the interviewer’s shoulder, my gaze finding my girls. They were hovering nearby, just outside the main circle of light, a supportive constellation. They were softly chatting amongst themselves, their expressions a mixture of pride and quiet, fierce protectiveness.

A genuine smile touched my lips, and I turned my attention back to the interviewer, to the cameras, to the carefully constructed narrative I was helping to build. I mentally shrugged and gave the camera the answer she wanted. This was the price of their safety, of our future. For them, it was a price I’d pay.

She leaned forward conspiratorially, “Let’s get to the heart of it. Sten, you’ve found yourself in a very unique situation. Tell me about your girls. What are they like?”

I couldn’t help the wide, genuine grin that spread across my face. I glanced over at my pack, who were still hovering just outside the circle of light, their ears all clearly angled in our direction. A wicked, wonderful idea sparked in my mind. This was my chance to gush, and maybe, just maybe, get a little playful revenge for the week of relentless, magnificent torture they’d put me through.

I turned back to the camera, my grin softening into a look of pure, unadulterated affection. “Where do I even start?” I began, a low chuckle rumbling in my chest. “They’re… everything.”

“Tian,” I began with a fond smile, “is a beautiful, chaotic storm whose laughter is so infectious you can feel it humming in the air. But a heads up, she’ll cheat at board games if you’re not watching!”

“Zyl,” I continued, giving her a small wink, “is the calm center of our storm, but don’t let that fool you. She’s a huntress.” I paused, thinking back to this morning. “And fiercely protective in a way that makes you feel like the safest man in the galaxy. She’s our quiet strength, thoughtful and grounding.”

My voice softened. “Bria is the soul of our pack. Gentle and observant, she sees beauty in things most people miss. Don’t let her shy demeanor fool you, though.”

“And Kaelis,” I finished, my voice full of warmth. “She’s a fierce, passionate warrior with a breathtaking fire. But get her away from the grav-ball field, and she’s the gentlest soul I’ve ever known. And she looks absolutely stunning in a backless dress.”

Muffled squawks of protest came from the direction of the girls, followed by a low rumble of laughter from Zyl. I saw Kaelis blush a deep, beautiful blue, even from across the room.

I paused then, my playful grin fading, replaced by a more serious, thoughtful expression. I took a slow, deliberate breath, the weight of Lyra’s plan settling on my shoulders. This was it. The point of no return.

I looked directly into the camera drone, my gaze steady and unwavering. “You know,” I began, my voice quiet but clear. “None of this would have been possible without the support of one person. And I’d like to take this opportunity to thank her. Publicly.”

I saw the interviewer’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, but she nodded, gesturing for me to continue.

“I want to thank Countess Ya’neis D’vejin.”

The name hung in the air, a sudden, jarring note in the carefully constructed harmony of the interview. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my girls freeze, a sudden, sharp stillness that was anything but subtle.

“She provided me with such a… supportive working environment at Apex Connections,” I continued, my voice a smooth, even tone. “An environment where I met three incredible women. She was the one who put me on the same team as Tian, Zyl, and Bria, and they… well, they welcomed me into their den.”

I shifted my gaze slightly, a soft, fond smile on my face. “And it was at a work function, a formal dinner party, that the Countess personally introduced me to her own daughter, Kaelis. She must be so proud to have raised such an amazing, talented sports superstar.”

I paused again, letting the words sink in. My expression turned somber, my voice dropping to a low, respectful murmur. “And then, after I was injured in a terrible accident, the Countess was one of the first people to visit me in the hospital. Her concern for my well-being… it was very touching.”

The lie was acid in my throat, a visceral poison I had to force down. But I swallowed, and forced the words out. Each one was a carefully placed stone in the foundation of our new fortress.

Then, I turned my head, my gaze shifting away from the camera, away from the interviewer. I looked past the lights, past the bustling production crew, to where Lady D’exa was sitting, a silent, watchful queen on her throne.

I looked her dead in the eye. And I said nothing.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken meaning. I held her gaze. For a long, heart-stopping moment, she just stared back, her face a blank, unreadable mask. Then, in a movement so subtle I almost missed it, she tilted her head.

The interview continued, a smooth, practiced dance of carefully crafted questions and what I hoped were sufficiently heartfelt answers. We were nearing the end, and the interviewer’s bubbly persona was starting to show the strain of a long performance. She gave me one last, brilliant smile for the camera drone.

“So, Sten,” she chirped, her voice full of a warm, manufactured optimism. “Now that you’ve found your pack here on Dirt, what’s next for you all? Are you and your girls planning to buy a house with the very generous relocation allowance the ISRP granted you?”

I just stared at her, my mind a complete blank. Relocation allowance? What relocation allowance? “Sorry,” I said, a puzzled frown creasing my forehead. “I’m not sure what you mean. I didn’t get any relocation allowance.”

The interviewer’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of genuine confusion in her eyes before the professional mask snapped back into place. “Oh, um…” she stammered, glancing off-camera, her professional effervescence fizzled out.

It was then that Lady D’exa stepped in. She had been sitting just behind the cameras the entire time, a silent, watchful presence. She moved with a quiet, unhurried grace, stepping into the circle of light, her expression unreadable.

“What do you mean, Sten?” she asked, her voice calm and even, but with an underlying edge of steel. “The allowance was clearly listed in your ISRP documentation. A significant sum, to assist with the purchase of a permanent residence.”

I shook my head, still completely lost. “Yeah, I remember seeing that in the documentation,” I confirmed. “But I never received any funds directly. My employer, Apex Connections, handled all the ISRP arrangements for me. I just got the small moving bonus they gave me.” My gaze was steady, meeting hers without a flicker of doubt. “I’m sure you can check all my bank accounts. The Apex bonus was the only funding I received.”

Lady D’exa’s face was a blank, impassive mask. She just blinked at me, her golden eyes giving nothing away. Then, her gaze shifted to one of her assistants standing in the shadows. The assistant gave a single, sharp nod and walked away, already tapping at her data-slate.

I looked from D’exa’s unreadable face to the retreating back of her assistant, a knot of confusion and unease tightening in my stomach. “Is… is everything okay?” I asked, my voice a little hesitant. I let a calculated tremor enter my tone, aiming for the perfect blend of worried and innocent. “The bonus from Apex wasn’t nearly enough to buy a house. It was maybe enough for half a year’s rent.”

Lady D’exa just nodded, her professional calm unwavering. “It will be okay,” she said, her voice a quiet, firm promise. “We’ll sort it out for you.”

She then turned to the interviewer, who had been watching the exchange with wide, uncertain eyes, and made a small, dismissive rolling motion with her hand.

⸻

The interview was over. The camera drone whirred down, its little red light winking out, and the interviewer’s bubbly persona vanished, replaced by a polite, professional exhaustion. I was drained, the emotional whiplash of the last hour leaving me feeling hollowed out.

I pushed myself up from the chair, my leg protesting with a dull, throbbing ache. The girls were there in an instant, a silent, supportive wall of fur and purple skin. They hovered close as I began the slow, careful process of hobbling away from the interview set.

As I made my way across the vast, open space, a figure detached herself from the shadows and fell into step beside me. It was Lady D’exa. She matched my slow, limping pace, her movements a fluid, elegant counterpoint to my own clumsy gait.

“I read the initial report on your accident, Sten,” she said, her voice a low, casual murmur that was almost lost in the background hum of the production crew. “Slipped on a patch of ice, was it?”

I didn’t look at her. I kept my gaze fixed on the path ahead. “That’s what the militia report says,” I replied, my own voice flat and noncommittal.

She was silent for a few steps, letting my non-answer hang in the air between us. “Are you suggesting the militia report is false?” she asked, her tone still maddeningly casual.

I stopped then, turning to face her. “It couldn’t possibly be,” I said, my voice carefully level. “It has my ImpID stamp on it.”

I held her gaze for a beat, letting the unspoken accusation settle. “I’d find it very interesting to cross-reference the timestamp on that militia statement with the timestamps from the surgical team’s logs. When they were reconstructing my leg.” I added, my voice dropping to a low, deliberate murmur.

Lady D’exa’s professional mask didn’t slip. Her expression didn’t change. She just held my gaze for a long, silent moment. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, melting back into the bustling chaos of the room, leaving me alone with the cold, hard truth of the Imperium.

The rest of the day was a blur, a disjointed montage of moments stitched together by a thread of exhaustion. My new suit arrived, delivered by Mr. Fen himself, another masterpiece of black fabric that fit perfectly. Then the real work began.

We moved from one sterile set to another: a fake office where I was told to look contemplative; a mock living room where they positioned Zyl while I forced a smile that felt brittle under the harsh lights.

Then came the documents. Official-looking data-slates were pressed into our hands, their screens filled with dense blocks of legalese. Seeing the space for my ImpID stamp, I signed without reading, my trust in Lyra absolute, my own mind too numb to process the words.

Later, a shuttle descended into the car park, its engines a low hum that vibrated through the concrete and up into my bones. Its stubby wings bristled with weapons - a reminder of who we were dealing with. We were ushered aboard and lifted into the grey skies of Dirt. We descended towards a breathtakingly picturesque waterfall. More photos were taken.

We were a portrait of inter-species harmony, our posed smiles a painful contrast to the raw, untamed beauty of the landscape. I vaguely remember being handed a wrapped package, and being prompted to throw it into the churning water below. I don’t know what it symbolized. I watched it arc through the air, a dark speck against the white water, and disappear into the depths. I felt nothing.

The last camera drone whirred down and the last forced smile fell from my face. We were herded back into the Interior ground-van, where the heavy door hissed shut, cocooning us in a blessed silence as even Lyra’s professional mask relaxed into pure exhaustion.

When the van pulled up to our apartment building, Torka was waiting. She stood by the entrance, a solid, reassuring anchor in the twilight, her arms laden with a stack of insulated boxes that promised warmth and sustenance. The sight of her, of home, was the first real thing I had felt for hours.

⸻

We lay scattered around the living room like battlefield casualties, slumped on the couch, the floor, wherever we had landed. The blank, dark holo-display was silent, none of us could be bothered to turn it on. The food that Torka had brought-a glorious, greasy feast of savory pies, and rich, starchy sides-had been systematically pillaged. We were zombies with full bellies and empty minds.

A soft voice cut through the comfortable, food-induced stupor. “Pack husband.”

The words were a whisper, barely audible, but they sliced through the silence. I blinked, my sluggish mind struggling to process them. I turned my head, my neck stiff, to see Bria looking at me from her spot on the floor. She was curled up against the side of the couch, her head resting near my good leg, her amber eyes soft and full of a quiet, unreadable emotion.

“What?” I asked, my own voice a rough, unused croak.

A small, gentle smile touched her lips. “Pack-husband-to-be,” she repeated, her voice a little stronger this time, a soft, happy murmur. “Some of the forms we signed today… it means we’re promised to each other now. We formed an official provisional pack.”

My blank stare must have prompted her, her voice a soft, patient explanation. “It can be broken, of course. But still.” Her smile widened, a shy, happy thing that made my own tired heart give a little flutter. “You’re my pack-husband-to-be.”

The words, so simple, but they settled over the room with a sudden, palpable feel. I looked from Bria’s soft, smiling face to the others. Zyl, Tian, and Kaelis had all stopped eating, their attention fixed on us. I could see their lips move, silent, mouthing the words, tasting the shape of them. Pack husband.

I looked back at them, a slow smile spreading across my own face, the corners of my eyes a little wet. “It wasn’t the Imperium’s paperwork that made this official,” I said, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn’t name.

“It was you. All of you. It was us, we made this, together.”

I took a breath, the weight of the day, of everything, finally settling into something that felt like hope. “Later,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “After all this madness has passed, let’s all go away. The five of us. Away from Vors, away from everything. Somewhere it’s just us. And we can do our own ceremony. No bloody cameras.”

The suggestion landed like a spark in a tinderbox. The exhausted quiet of the room exploded into a chaotic, happy chorus of agreement. Ideas were shouted back and forth, a flurry of excited chatter about mountain cabins, lakeside retreats, and quiet, frozen deserts.

Amidst the joyful chaos, my gaze found Lyra and Torka. They were huddled together at the edge of the room, watching us with quiet, happy smiles on their faces. I raised my voice just enough to be heard over the din. “Can you two come?” I called out. “For a day or two?”

Torka just grumbled, a low, affectionate sound. “Sure, but early. Before you turn it into a sex den.”

⸻

Chapter 19 - Culmination

We anticipate watershed moments. The crossing of the metaphorical Rubicon. Moving house, a new career, a date. We overthink it; we trace out eventualities in our minds - infinitely branching paths of possibility. These imagined futures are pure, undiluted by the friction or suffering of reality.

We focus on the feeling of expected relief, not the sharp pain of lancing the boil. The frustration of waiting in a starport, of sitting in a shuttle is soothed by a predicted arrival. We ignore the moment of change for the potential future.

Rarely, uniquely, it’s not the imagined future that provides fulfillment. It’s the moment of action, the instant of resolution. The press of their lips on yours. The shout of victory. Lifetimes can exist within that singular moment of becoming. That unique precipice between the past and the future.

It was a workday, but you wouldn’t have known it from the relaxed, sleepy atmosphere in the apartment. Tian, Zyl and Bria, who should have been at their desks hours ago, were showing no signs of rushing. They were sprawled across the sofa and floor in a comfortable tangle of limbs and fur, their quiet chatter a soft murmur in the sunlit apartment.

Kaelis was lounging on the couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she stretched her long, athletic frame. She should have been on a shuttle, halfway across the planet with the Vors Vipers. But yesterday’s impromptu summons by the Interior had put an end to that. She’d called her coach, a brief, tense conversation that had ended with Kaelis pinching the bridge of her nose, even as the tension drained from her shoulders. Her team was traveling back today, which meant she had an unexpectedly well-timed day off.

Tian, scrolling through a sports feed on her data-slate, let out a frustrated growl. “They traded Renkar? For her?”

Kaelis chuckled from the couch. “Serves her right, she always was a sandy clam.” Their banter drifted back to the usual Grav-Ball trades and gossip.

Zyl and Bria were sharing another slate, their heads close together as they watched an episode of ’The Gardens’, the human survival show. Their tails, resting side-by-side, gave the occasional synchronized flick as Rick, the human on-screen fumbled with a snare.

“I’m making breakfast,” I said, my voice still a little thick with sleep.

The suggestion was met with a chorus of appreciative murmurs and growls. I carefully hobbled into the kitchen. I had a plan, a fusion of Earth comfort food and the ingredients of Dirt. A proper pack breakfast.

I found a package of thin, flexible flatbreads made from kresh tuber flour. They were a decent stand-in for tortillas. Into a hot pan went a generous amount of thinly sliced turox steak, sizzling and searing in an instant. I followed that with a scramble of a dozen eggs, their alien-yellow yolks a bright splash of colour in the pan.

The girls drifted into the kitchen one by one, drawn by the smell of cooking meat. They watched with a fascinated curiosity as I assembled my creations: a generous portion of steak and eggs, wrapped snugly in the warm flatbread. A sort of breakfast burrito.

I handed the first one to Kaelis, who accepted it with a look of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts. The others followed suit, and soon we were all gathered around the small kitchen table, a comfortable, sleepy pack enjoying a slow morning together.

It was only after I’d finished my own, a single, hearty wrap that was already testing the limits of my stomach, that I looked up and realized the girls were just getting started. I watched, a mixture of awe and amusement, as Kaelis, Tian, and Zyl polished off their fourth burrito each, their appetites a testament to their metabolism. Even Bria, the smallest of the group, was starting on her third with a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on her face. It was a beautiful and alien sight, a perfect snapshot of my new, wonderful, and completely insane life.

After the last of the breakfast burritos had been devoured and the kitchen was once again spotless, the lethargy of the morning slowly drained away, replaced by the practical need to get moving. We had an eleven hundred meeting with Lyra at the Apex offices, and no one wanted to be late.

As the girls bustled around, getting changed into their work clothes and packing their bags for the day, I found myself with a few quiet moments. I settled onto the couch, my legs propped up on a stack of cushions, and pulled out my data-slate. With a casual flick of my thumb, I opened The Weave, curious to see what was happening in the digital world of Vor’s Scratch.

I didn’t have to look far. The top post on the main Vor’s Scratch sub-forum jumped out at me, the title a bold, declarative statement: Human Pack in Vors!

My heart gave a little lurch, a mixture of anxiety and reluctant amusement. I tapped on the post, unable to help myself. It wasn’t just a random user post; it was a full-blown news article from the ‘Dirt Daily Post’, one of the planet’s major publications. The title was sensational, of course: Human Integration Success! Local Human Forms Pack!

Below it was a gallery of professionally taken holo-pics. There was a shot of me, looking ridiculously happy, surrounded by Kaelis, Tian, Bria, and Zyl. There were even a few candid shots of us from the Grav-Ball game. A cold jolt shot through me. How in the hells had the Interior gotten those? We hadn’t taken them.

The comment section was a chaotic, sprawling mess of speculation, excitement, and the usual internet weirdness. There were a few comments from locals who claimed to have seen me.

VorsBread:
Yeah, I saw him near the harbor recently with a pack of girls. Seemed nice enough.

VipersNo1Fan:
I think that's the guy who was at the Vipers game last week. The one who was with Kaelis!

I scrolled further down, a wry smile on my face. Then, a particular username and comment caught my eye. The comment was short, dismissive, and dripping with a sour-grapes bitterness that was almost palpable.

VorkaRulez:
Saw him at the gym a while back. He's not that impressive in person. All skinny arms.

I let out a short, sharp bark of laughter, the memory of that encounter flooding back with a vivid clarity. It was nice to know Vorka still thought of me fondly.

A warm, comforting weight settled beside me, and I looked over to find Tian watching me, a curious look on her face. “What’s so funny?” she asked, leaning in to get a look at my screen.

I just shook my head, still chuckling, and showed her the post. She read it, her eyes widening slightly before she let out a low whistle. “Wow,” she said, a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face. “You’re famous.”

“Not just me, Us. And infamous is more likely,” I corrected, my smile turning a little more serious as I looked back at the screen. “But this is good.”

Tian tilted her head, a question in her bright green eyes.

“The news is out,” I explained, my voice showing my relief. “Everyone knows there’s a human in town now. It makes what we’re about to do…safer.”

The weight of our decision, of the confrontation at Apex we were heading towards, settled over us for a moment. But the constant, low-level hum of fear I’d felt since that night had finally gone silent, replaced a steady resolve.

As I continued scrolling through the chaotic comment section, random comments flew by. Then, a post stood out:

HumanWatcher:
Hey if you want to know more, there's a forum all about humans. Check it out: /w/humanity_101
We think Sten might be a human subspecies!

My curiosity, an insistent itch, got the better of me. I wanted to know what the locals really thought about humans, and about me. I tapped the link. It was like opening the door into a hurricane of madness. The sub-forum was a chaotic mess, and the news article about our pack had lit a fire under it. There were no less than four separate, sprawling threads dissecting every pixel of the holo-pics, and every word of the article.

One thread was a hotbed of conspiracy, its users convinced the entire story was a fabrication.

ShilWashing:
This is obviously fake news. Everyone knows humans are monogamous. He wouldn't join a pack.

The sentiment was echoed by a dozen others, their arguments a bizarre mix of half-truths and wild speculation. Another thread was dedicated to a more… biological line of inquiry. The title was simply, Is the Vors Human a Hybrid? The original poster, GeneSleuth, had posted a zoomed-in, heavily pixelated image of my head.

GeneSleuth:
Notice the lack of cranial fur? This is not a typical human phenotype. Could he be a rare subspecies? Or a genetic hybrid?

It was in this thread that I found a comment that made me snort with a surprised, choked laugh. The username stood out as something I didn’t expect to see here!

KebabLover69
GeneSleuth is right! This is a rare subspecies of human, native to the small, relatively unknown island of Atlantis. The island has an unusually high frequency of lightning storms. Over generations, Atlantians evolved bald heads for Enhanced Barometric and Tectonic Sensitivity. It gives them a warning when a bad storm is coming so they can seek cover.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, a loud, open sound that cut through the quiet chatter of the apartment. A wide, wicked grin spread across my face. KebabLover69 had to be another human. The reference to Atlantis, the sheer absurdity of the explanation… he or she was clearly trolling the ‘human experts’ of the forum. This was fantastic, and I couldn’t resist.

I opened the camera on my data-slate and leaned back against the cushions. I flashed a ‘V’ sign and pulled my mouth into a wide, dumb smile. My eyes crinkled as I snapped the picture. My fingers flew across the screen, tapping out a reply and attaching the selfie.

BaldViking u/KebabLover69 is right. I'm Atlantian.

Without a second thought, I attached the image to my reply and hit send. It was probably a terrible idea. But as I watched the confirmation of my post flash on the screen, I couldn’t stop grinning. It was just too damn funny.

On impulse, I navigated back to KebabLover69’s profile and quickly sent a friend request. With that final bit of mischief done, I tossed the data-slate onto the couch.

⸻

The walk to the Apex offices was a comfortable gaggle. A gaggle of five, moving through the quiet morning streets of Vor’s Scratch, their quiet chatter a soft murmur in the cool air. The girls flanked me, their bodies a warm, living wall that created a small bubble of safety around us.

I glanced around at them as we moved. They all seemed happy, but Bria, walking closest to me, practically bounced. She had an extra pep in her step, and every time I caught her eye, she bit her lip and looked away.

As we walked, a memory surfaced, a half-forgotten observation from my first few weeks on Dirt. I’d seen groups like ours before, a cluster of Rakiri moving through the city, their chatter a low, rumbling counterpoint to the sounds of the street. I’d always just assumed they were a group of friends, out for a walk or heading to a pub.

But now, with the fresh perspective of my own situation, I saw the pattern. There was almost always one Rakiri at the center of those groups. Sometimes a little fatter than the women surrounding him, his presence a quiet, protected core. That was me now. I was the core. I was the one being shielded, surrounded, protected.

The realization was strange. A mix of comfort and a faint, lingering sense of claustrophobia.

“Hey,” I spoke up, my voice cutting through their quiet conversation. “Do you all put me in the center on purpose?”

The girls looked at me, a flicker of confusion in their eyes. It was Tian who answered, a casual shrug in her voice. “If there’s a lot of us, it’s just… instinct, I guess? My sisters and I used to do it for our brother all the time. You don’t really think about it.”

She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “But when there’s only a few of us,” she added, grinning as her gaze met Zyl’s over my head. “Then it’s much more purposeful.”

We arrived at the Apex Connect offices a little early, the shared lobby quiet and still basking in the morning light. Lyra wasn’t there yet, but Vasha, the receptionist, gave us a friendly but somewhat curious smile as we walked past her desk.

Just as we stepped into the main office space, the door to Tuli’s office slid open. She emerged, her expression a mask of professional neutrality, but her golden eyes widened slightly as she saw me. Her lips twitched, not quite forming a smile. “Sten,” she said, her voice hesitant, the welcome uncertain. “It’s… good to see you back.”

“It’s good to be back, Tuli,” I replied, keeping my face neutral.

Her gaze then shifted to the girls flanking me, and her professional mask snapped back into place. “Tian, Bria, Zyl,” she said, her tone all business. “Your manager has reported your unexplained absence this morning.”

Before Tian or Zyl could offer a response, Bria stepped forward. Her shoulders were back, her chin up, and she met Tuli’s gaze without a trace of the shyness I was used to. “Yes, about that,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “Sten’s meeting isn’t for another ten minutes. Do you mind if I have a quick chat with you?”

Tuli looked at her with a flicker of surprise, before she gave a single, sharp nod. “Of course.”

As Bria and Tuli disappeared into the office, the rest of us looked at each other. “Well,” Tian announced, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “I guess we have time for one last trip to the cafeteria. And we can show Kaelis around!”

It felt a little like the last meal of a condemned prisoner, but the mood was light, almost giddy. We grabbed a selection of colourful, fruity drinks from the glass-fronted fridges. I grabbed an extra one for Bria and Kaelis. What were they going to do? Fire me?

With drinks in hand, we gave Kaelis the grand tour. We showed her our commandeered meeting room, where our desks were still clustered. The glass walls remained covered in sticky notes, and the silent workstations were surrounded by empty drink bottles-a testament to the work we’d done.

Then we moved out into the main dev pit. The moment we stepped into the open space, a wave of recognition rippled through the other developers. But their focus wasn’t on me, the newly infamous ‘human pack-husband’. It was on Kaelis.

A small group of Rakiri developers, their usual professional reserve completely gone, rushed over to us, their data-slates held out like offerings. “Oh my goddess, you’re Kaelis!” one of them gushed, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “I’m a huge Vipers fan! Can I please get your autograph?”

Kaelis, who had been looking around with a quiet, curious interest, was taken aback. A faint blue blush crept up her cheeks, but she smiled, a genuine, happy expression that lit up her face. “Sure,” she said, her voice a little shy but full of a warm, genuine pleasure as she took the offered slates one by one, scrawling her signature with a practiced ease.

The flurry of autographs and gushing praise for Kaelis eventually subsided, and the star-struck developers drifted back to their desks, their data-slates, newly signed shirts and other paraphernalia now held like precious relics. We made our way back towards the front of the office, the last of our drinks finished.

As we approached Tuli’s office, the glass door slid open and Bria stepped out. A slow, deeply satisfied smile was spread across her face, an expression of triumph that made her amber eyes sparkle. She looked… happy, anticipatory. Her eyes fixed on mine.

Waiting just outside the door was Lyra. She was a picture of professional poise, her expression calm and unreadable, but I saw a flicker of pride in her eyes as she gave Bria a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Tuli appeared in the doorway behind Bria, her expression bewildered, clearly rattled by whatever conversation had just taken place. Her gaze landed on me, and her professional mask snapped back into place. “Sten,” she said, her voice strained as she gestured curtly into her office. “Our meeting, I believe?”

I nodded and limped forward, Lyra falling into step beside me. As we stepped across the threshold, Tuli’s gaze flickered to Lyra, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, who is this?” she asked, her tone sharpening. “This is an internal Apex matter, isn’t it?”

I met her gaze, letting a small, humorless smile touch my lips. “Oh, it is,” I said, my voice calm and even. “I just brought legal representation.”

Tuli’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of genuine shock crossing her face before she quickly schooled her features back into a mask of professional neutrality. “I see,” she said, her voice a little tight. She gestured to the chairs opposite her desk. “Well then. Please, sit.”

We settled into the chairs, the silence in the room thick with unspoken questions. Tuli took a moment to compose herself, her hands folded neatly on the desk in front of her. “Okay,” she began, her voice carefully neutral. “How can I help you, Sten? I heard about your… accident. I’m glad you’re feeling so much better and ready to return to work.”

I didn’t say anything. I just looked at her, letting the silence stretch. Memories flooded the stillness: Xyla’s condescending sneer as she told me to build a better trap; the driver that night, and the sickening, repeated sound of my leg bones shattering; the Countess’s threats afterward.

But drowning that flood of fear, pain and anger were my girls. My pack, and the care, the protection, and the love they radiated with every little action, every coy smile and every touch. I turned my head to look through the office glass and saw my girls waiting for me.

It was Lyra who spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet tension like a knife. “My client, Mr. Pallisen,” she began, her tone crisp and professional, “is resigning from Apex Connect, effective immediately.”

With a deft flick of her thumb across her data-slate, a soft chime echoed from Tuli’s own device on the desk. Tuli’s gaze dropped to the notification. Stunned disbelief shattered her professional mask. She stared at the screen for a long moment before her head slowly lifted, her gaze moving past us, through the glass walls of her office.

Out in the main reception area, Tian, Zyl, and Kaelis were chatting casually, their backs to the office. Bria stood with them, though she kept sneaking quick glances in my direction. Tuli’s gaze flickered from one seemingly relaxed face to the next, and I could almost see the pieces clicking into place in her mind. Bria’s chat this morning. The entire team’s ‘unexplained absence.’ My lawyer. This was coordinated.

She took a slow, deep breath, her professional composure returning, though her eyes were still wide with a dawning understanding. She looked at me then, her expression a mixture of desperation and something that might have been regret. “I see,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “Sten… please.” The desperation was raw in her voice now. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

I met her gaze, my own expression unyielding. “No.”

Tuli took another moment, her gaze flicking between my resolute face and Lyra’s professional calm. “You understand,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, warning tone, “that there will be consequences?”

“What consequences?” I asked, my own voice a flat, even challenge.

Tuli swallowed, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “Well, to start,” she began, her tone shifting to a more formal, by-the-book cadence, “there’s your employment contract. It requires four weeks’ notice for resignation.”

My stomach tightened, but before I could even formulate a response, Lyra interjected, her voice a smooth, confident counterpoint to Tuli’s strained professionalism. “It would,” she agreed with a polite nod. “But he’s well within the six-month probationary period. As per section three, subsection B, no notice is required by either party for termination of the contract.”

Tuli’s professional mask tightened. “Ah, yes,” she conceded, her voice a little stiff. “That’s true. But the contract also requires you to repay any and all moving costs incurred by the company if the contract terminates during the probationary period”

Lyra just nodded, her expression unreadable. With another deliberate flick of her thumb across her data-slate, Tuli’s device chimed again. “We’ve refunded the full relocation bonus credits Apex Connect provided,” Lyra stated, her tone matter-of-fact. “We’ve made sure to document all contracts and transfers, just in case there are any… misunderstandings later.”

A small, tight smile touched Tuli’s lips. “Thank you,” she said, her voice dripping with a false sweetness. “But you’re forgetting the transit costs.”

Lyra tilted her head, a look of confusion on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a picture of innocence. “I don’t understand.”

Tuli’s smile turned predatory. “Apex Connect paid a significant amount of credits for Mr. Pallisen’s transit to Dirt,” she purred, leaning forward slightly. “We spared no expense. Business-class accommodation, dedicated human-compatible food services for each liner… it was very expensive. Does Mr. Pallisen have funds sufficient to repay this?”

Lyra’s confused expression deepened. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice laced with a perfect, calculated bewilderment. “Sten came here via the Inter-System Reassignment Program. The Interior paid his way.”

She let the words hang in the air. The predatory smile on Tuli’s face froze, then collapsed. Her eyes darted from Lyra’s innocent expression to my blank one, a flicker of genuine worry in their depths.

“Apex Connect didn’t pay a single credit. You just employed him when he got here. Honestly,” Lyra added, her voice dropping to a curious tone, “the relocation bonus made no sense to me. But it was very generous of Apex.”

She straightened up, her professional demeanor snapping back into place. “Nevertheless, it’s all documented here.” Another flick of her thumb, another chime from Tuli’s slate. “The Interior was kind enough to supply me with all of their approvals and paperwork.”

Tuli’s expression froze, then seemed to curdle, turning sickly. I could see the cogs turning, if we’d spoken to the Interior, what else had we said? What had they uncovered? The cornered, desperate look in her golden eyes was a stark contrast to the confident Personnel Resources officer I had first met.

She took a shaky breath, trying another tack. “You understand there will be… social consequences,” she said, her voice strained. “Apex Connect will not be able to provide a recommendation for you when you seek other employment.”

I spoke up then, my voice quiet but firm. “Sure. My obligations at Apex have already had social consequences.”

I reached down and picked up the plastic bag I’d been carrying, the one from the hospital, and placed it on her desk with a soft crinkle. She glanced at it, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. I gestured to the bag. “I believe that suit is the property of Apex Connect? I need to return it, right?”

I let the words hang in the air for a moment. “It was damaged at a work function.”

Her hand, trembling slightly, reached out and pulled the bag open. As she did, the unmistakable, rusty smell of old, dried blood permeated the small office. Her breath hitched, a small, sharp sound in the quiet room. She froze, her eyes locked on the ruined, blood-stained fabric of my formal suit, ripped and torn from where the medics must have cut it off me.

“If you soak it long enough, the blood might come out.” I paused, meeting her wide, horrified gaze. “One of the pants legs has some significant damage where my Tibia punctured through it. Maybe it could be sewn together?”

Tuli’s face blanched, the purple of her skin turning a pale, ashen grey. The moment hung, stretching endlessly. She couldn’t stop looking at my ruined, bloody clothes.

Lyra’s voice, calm and cool, cut through the thick, charged silence. “Is there anything else?”

Tuli flinched as if struck. She pulled herself together with a visible effort, her movements jerky as she quickly closed the bag, hiding the gruesome sight. She swallowed hard, her throat working. “Um, yes,” she stammered, her gaze darting around the room, anywhere but at me. “Your documentation… is it all in order for the strike-team project?”

I pushed myself up from the chair, Lyra rising with me. “Yep,” I said, my voice casual, almost cheerful.

“We never added it to the internal documentation system. ‘Move fast and break things,’ you know how it is.” I paused, giving her an expression that could charitably be described as a smile. “But it’s all on the whiteboards in the meeting room we were using. Although,” I added, a thoughtful frown on my face, “it looked like someone has cleaned them while I was away.”

I gave her a small, innocent smile. “I’m sure you can ask the other members of the strike team, though.”

Tuli swallowed again, her gaze flicking past us to the glass wall of her office. To the girls still chatting in the reception area. She knew. She knew Bria had just resigned. And she knew, with a dawning certainty, that Zyl and Tian were only moments away from walking out that door right behind us.

⸻

The glass door to Tuli’s office slid shut behind us with a soft click, the sound a final, definitive end to my time at Apex Connect. The air in the reception area felt lighter, cleaner. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the tension draining physically from my shoulders.

Lyra turned to me, a wide, triumphant smile spreading across her face. It was the smile of a shark who had just successfully taken down her prey, a look of pure, professional satisfaction.

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her into a hug, a fierce, grateful embrace. She let out a surprised yelp, her polished composure momentarily collapsing as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice a low murmur. “Lyra, you’re incredible.”

She laughed, a bright, clear sound that was pure Lyra, the sharp-edged lawyer momentarily forgotten. “No problems,” she said, her voice full of a warm, genuine pleasure as I let her go.

The other girls, who had been watching with wide, happy smiles, crowded around, their voices a chaotic, grateful chorus. “Yeah, Lyra, you are amazing!” Tian exclaimed, pulling her into another hug. Bria, Zyl and Kaelis echoed the sentiment, adding their own heartfelt thanks.

A faint blush crept up Lyra’s neck at the praise. She waved a dismissive hand, though her smile was wide and genuine. “I have to go,” she said, glancing at her data-slate. “I’ve got another client meeting I need to get to.” She looked up, her gaze sweeping over all of us. “But… do you all want to meet up at ‘The Broken Pick’ tomorrow night? Torka would love to come, and I think we all deserve a celebratory drink.”

“Yes!” Tian exclaimed, her voice full of a sudden, fierce joy. “Absolutely. And we’re buying. All night.” The other girls murmured their agreement, a chorus of happy, determined voices. I started to protest, “Hey, I can…” But Zyl’s hand landed on my chest, stopping me. “No,” she rumbled, cutting me off with a slow, wicked grin. “That’s our job. You’re our pack-husband now.”

I grumbled under my breath, but a smile touched my lips. The possessive purr in Zyl’s voice sent a shiver straight through me. Still, a man had his pride. I’d have to figure out a way to sneak a round in. Maybe I could bribe the bartender?

“Great,” Lyra said, her own smile widening. With a final, cheerful wave, she turned and walked away, leaving us standing in the now-empty reception area, the architects of our own uncertain, but finally free, future.

Just as Zyl and Tian turned to head back to Tuli’s office to tender their own resignations, Bria stepped up to me. She was practically vibrating with nervous energy, her feet shuffling, her body hopping from one leg to the other in a restless, almost frantic dance.

“S-Sten,” she stammered, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over my shoulder. “Can… can you do me… I mean can you do something for me? While Zyl and Tian are… you know… talking to Tuli?”

I looked at her. She’d been acting a little strange all morning, and now this sudden, intense nervousness. “Sure, Bria,” I said, my voice gentle. “Anything. What is it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, her hand, trembling slightly, taking mine. She gave a gentle tug, pulling me away from the group, leading me back through the now-empty cafeteria and towards the restrooms. The bathrooms were a series of unisex, single-stall rooms, their doors a uniform, anonymous grey. Bria stopped in front of one, her hand still clutching mine, her grip surprisingly tight.

She finally met my gaze, her amber eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a fierce, unyielding determination. “Please,” she whispered, her voice a raw and desperate plea. “Please, wait here for just a moment. Then… then come in. And lock the door behind you,” she stuttered out, her tail a tight curl of embarrassment.

I just nodded, a dawning understanding hitting me. Anticipation jolted through me, and I felt a grin try to spread across my face.

Bria’s hand slipped from mine as she stepped into the restroom. She paused in the doorway, looking back at me, her expression a volatile, intoxicating mix of raw vulnerability and a desperate need. Then, she was gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

I stood outside the restroom door in the charged atmosphere of the Apex cafeteria. My heart thumped as I imagined what I might see when I opened that door. Bria was… Bria was full of surprises.

How long should I wait? A minute? Five? What was the protocol here? I leaned against the cool wall, trying to picture what I would find when I entered. The anticipation sent shivers across my skin, making me feel jittery. Longer was probably better, right? Give her time to… prepare? Or maybe she just needed a moment to steel her nerves. Sex in the office? Is that a common fantasy for Rakiri?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute or two, I pushed myself off the wall. My hand reached for the door handle. I eased it open and stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me, the sound of the lock engaging seemed unnaturally loud in the small chamber. I turned, and my breath caught in my throat.

The room was larger than any human facility, utilitarian. Clean white tiles, a sink, a toilet, the faint, lingering scent of industrial cleaner. Standard office restroom. Except for the figure kneeling in the center of the floor.

Bria.

She was completely naked. Her dark fur, usually meticulously groomed, the white highlights almost luminous under the harsh fluorescent lights. She knelt on the cool tile floor, her powerful legs spread wide, offering an unobstructed, breathtaking view. Her slit, plump and glistening, wept freely, a clear tear of her arousal threatening to drip onto the tiles beneath her.

My gaze traveled upwards, drinking her in. Over the subtle curve of her stomach – not the washboard abs of Kaelis, but softer. A slight paunch that looked touchable, vulnerable. Her breasts were full and heavy, smaller than the staggering scale of Zyl’s, but still straining against gravity with a taut, youthful firmness.

Her hands were clasped behind her head, her arms spread wide, elbows pointing outwards. The pose pushed her chest forward, accentuating the swell of her breasts, offering them up for my inspection. Her nipples were pink points against her fur, extended and hard, silently begging for attention.

Her dark mane was pulled back tightly into a simple ponytail, exposing the vulnerable, furred curve of her neck. Her ears were swiveled forward, angled directly towards me, every delicate fiber seemingly attuned to my smallest sound, my slightest exhalation.

She was trying to hold herself perfectly still, a living statue carved from desire and fur, but I could see the fine tremors that shook her frame. Not shivers from the cold – Rakiri ran hot – but the electric current of expectation, of arousal, of the terrifying vulnerability of her position. Her chest rose and fell with short, shallow pants, the only outward sign of the emotions raging within her.

And her eyes. Her amber irises, usually so soft and shy, were locked onto mine. Wide and dark with arousal, they held a mixture of fear, desperate longing, and a fierce, unyielding determination. She didn’t look away. She didn’t blink. She just knelt there, utterly exposed, offering herself to me, waiting.

I said nothing, letting the charged silence hang in the sterile room, broken only by Bria’s short, shallow pants. My own breathing hitched slightly, caught somewhere between awe and a raw need.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to move, circling her kneeling form. My footsteps were soft on the tile floor, but in the echoing quiet of the restroom, they sounded unnaturally loud.

Bria didn’t shift her body, didn’t turn her head. She remained locked in that pose of perfect, rigid exposure. But her gaze, those wide, dark amber pools, followed me for as long as they could, tracking me with an intensity that sent tingles down my spine. Her ears, those sensitive, furred cones, swiveled smoothly, remaining angled directly towards me, capturing the whisper of my clothes, the soft scuff of my shoes, and the ragged catch in my own breathing.

From the side, her profile was breathtaking. The harsh illumination caught the curve of her jaw, the delicate line of her shoulder. Her rapid, shallow pants made her breasts jiggle with each breath, the display hypnotic, mesmerizing. Her hard nipples seemed to strain upwards, seeking a touch that I hadn’t granted her.

It was only then that I saw her tail. She was trying so hard to keep it still, to maintain that illusion of perfect control, of statuesque submission. But her body betrayed her. It was curled up tightly, the tip twitching uncontrollably. It would go still for a moment, a brief victory of will over instinct, then a tremor would run through it, and it would resume its restless motion – a slow, conflicted tight swing that spoke volumes about the war raging within her.

I continued my slow orbit, moving behind her. My focus traced the elegant curve of her spine, the dip at the small of her back, the powerful swell of her glutes. Oh, goddess, her ass. Round, firm, covered in that soft, downy, dark fur… My hands twitched, itching to touch, to grip, to squeeze that perfect, furry roundness. But I held back, savoring the tension, the exquisite torture of denial.

And then I saw it. Nestled deep between the soft, downy-furred cheeks, almost hidden in the shadows, was a glint of silver.

My breath caught. I knelt down slowly, the action sending a soft rustle through my clothes. I kept my distance, respecting the invisible boundary I had drawn, but leaned in, my eyes narrowing as I got a closer look.

Bria’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp in the quiet room. Her ears, still fixed on me, twitched violently at the sound of my movement so close behind her. Her whole body tensed, anticipating… what? A touch? A word?

And then I saw it clearly. Tucked between those perfect, furry mounds, nestled snugly in her puckered knot, was a butt plug. Chrome, teardrop-shaped, with a flared base that sat flush against her. A silver hoop extended from the base, glinting under the harsh light.

A low groan rumbled in my own chest, a sound of surprised arousal. Bria swallowed hard, the movement visible even from behind. She knew. She knew what I was looking at. As if in response to her own clenching muscles, the plug twitched, the silver hoop waggling slightly in the air.

My own cock, already straining against the fabric of my jeans, pulsed painfully. Slowly, I pushed myself back to my feet, the movement feeling heavy, deliberate. I completed my circle, walking back around until I stood directly in front of her once more.

I made no effort to hide my erection, the prominent ridge clear evidence of the effect she was having on me. I wanted her to see it. To see the physical reality of the desire she had provoked.

She swallowed again, her throat working. Her amber eyes, wide and dark, darted down to the evidence of my arousal, lingered there for a long, heart-stopping moment, then flickered back up to meet my gaze. Waiting.

The stillness stretched, heavy with a static charge, broken only by the wet, ragged sound of Bria’s panting and the frantic thudding of my own heart against my ribs. I let the moment hang, letting her see the effect she was having on me as the wanton need coiled tighter in the tiled room, the sounds of the office faint through the door.

Finally, I broke the silence, my voice a low, rough word that cut through the quiet tension. “Bria.”

Her form shuddered at the sound of her name, a single, violent tremor that ran through her from head to toe. She looked up, her amber eyes wide and pleading, locking onto mine across the small space. “Sir,” she gasped, the word torn from her throat, raw and desperate. “Please… let me service you. Please use me.”

I just looked at her, letting her plea hang, the vulnerability of it a potent aphrodisiac. I saw the tremor in her hands, still clasped rigidly behind her head. I saw the way her thighs quivered, slick with her own arousal. I saw the desperate hope warring with fear in her eyes.

After a long, charged moment, I gave my command, my voice quiet but absolute. “Do not move.”

Then, I began to undress. I’d like to say I did it with some measure of grace, a smooth, seductive striptease. But the reality was far less elegant. Between my throbbing erection straining against the confines of my jeans and the awkward stiffness of my leg, it was a clumsy, fumbling process. I nearly lost my balance twice, hopping precariously on my good foot as I wrestled my jeans off over my shoes.

But Bria didn’t seem to notice my lack of coordination. Her eyes were fixed on me, devouring every inch of exposed skin as I shed my clothes. Her gaze tracked the movement of my hands as I unbuttoned my shirt, lingered on the curve of my bicip, traced the lines of my chest. Her breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp, when my erection finally sprang free, jutting proudly in the air. Her panting grew heavier, faster, anticipation radiating from her.

I kicked my discarded jeans aside and tossed my shirt onto the small, neat pile of Bria’s own clothes folded near the wall. Then, naked, I moved towards her. I stopped directly in front of her kneeling form, so close that the head of my cock brushed against her panting mouth, against the wet tip of her tongue that darted out unconsciously to meet it.

She strained forward, a low whimper escaping her lips, her body desperate to take me into her mouth. But she held herself back, her hands still locked behind her head, her frame rigid with the effort of obeying my command.

“You will not move until I say go,” I instructed, my voice a low, deliberate growl that vibrated in the small space. “You will suck my cock. You may use your hands. You may touch yourself however you wish.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air, watching her eyes widen. “But you will not cum.”

I waited, watching the understanding dawn in her eyes, watching the conflict play out on her face – the desperate need warring with the equally desperate desire to please me, to obey. Her gaze flickered down to my cock, then back up to my face, her amber eyes dark with a mixture of arousal and submission. She nodded, a single, jerky movement, her hands still locked behind her head.

I let the anticipation build for another long, agonizing moment, savoring the exquisite tension. Then, I gave the command.

“Go.”

She moved.

She inhaled me.

There was no slow, tentative exploration, no shy hesitation. The moment the word left my lips, Bria surged forward, her mouth crashing down onto my cock with a consuming hunger. It wasn’t a kiss; it was an engulfing.

I gasped, my hands instinctively coming up to brace against her shoulders as her heat enveloped me. I felt the blunt pressure as the head of my cock slammed against the soft back of her throat, forcing past the barrier. The impact should have made her gag, should have made her pull back.

But she didn’t.

She choked, a wet, guttural sound, but she held her position, her nose pressed firmly against my pubic bone. Her mouth worked frantically, her tongue a rough, insistent muscle slathering every inch of my shaft with her slick saliva. It wasn’t gentle; it was aggressive, almost feverish, like she was trying to absorb me through sheer force of will.

Her tongue, surprisingly long and agile, darted from between her lips, reaching down to taste my balls even as she kept the rest of me buried deep in her throat.

Her hands hadn’t been idle. In a flash, they were gone from behind her head, diving down between her own spread thighs. I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing from my angle, but I didn’t need to. A low, guttural moan tore from her throat, muffled by my cock, and her eyes rolled back in her head for a split second, pure bliss washing over her features as her fingers worked frantically against her own wet heat.

The sight, the sound, the sheer intensity of her arousal was almost enough to end me right there. “Don’t cum,” I choked out, the words barely audible over my own ragged breathing, lost in the overwhelming sensation of her throat pulsing around the head of my cock again and again as she swallowed convulsively.

A soft, frustrated whine rumbled deep in her chest. Her hands reluctantly came away from her drooling slit, leaving glistening trails. They reappeared, slick with her own juices, and gently, reverently, cupped my balls. I could feel the slickness on my skin, her wetness mingling with drool.

Then she started to move. No longer just holding me deep, she began to fuck my cock, her head thrusting, using her mouth, her throat, her surprisingly strong neck muscles. It was an aggressive, almost frenzied rhythm, each upward slide a slow, agonizing tease, each downward plunge a deep, possessive claim.

I stared down at her, my mind reeling. This wasn’t the shy, gentle Bria I knew. Or rather, this was her, just a hidden facet I hadn’t seen before. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through me. Kinky, yes, the butt plug had hinted at that. But this raw, uninhibited aggression… it was breathtaking.

Her amber eyes, squeezed shut as she concentrated, snapped open, locking onto mine. She held my gaze as she moved, watching my reaction to every flick of her tongue, every deep swallow. It was like she was studying me, learning in real-time exactly what drove me wild, committing every gasp, every groan, every involuntary buck of my hips to memory. A crash course in how to make Sten spill his seed down her throat, attended by the most dedicated student imaginable.

I gasped, my body jolting as if struck by lightning. The sheer intensity of her mouth, the desperate, aggressive need… it was too much, too fast. My hand came up, pressing against her furry shoulder, pushing her back, breaking the contact.

A wounded whine erupted from Bria’s throat, a sound of pure, frustrated longing. She lurched forward instinctively, her tongue darting out, trying to reclaim me, to keep that connection. Strings of saliva, thick and glistening, stretched between her lips and the head of my still-throbbing cock, proof of the intimacy of the moment before they snapped.

I took a step back, putting a small but definite space between us, my breath coming in ragged, heavy pants. I needed a moment, a second to regain control before I lost myself completely.

“Bria,” I commanded, my voice a low, rough growl that echoed slightly in the tiled room. “Stand up. Bend over. Grip the sink. Present yourself to me.”

Her obedience was instantaneous. One moment she was kneeling before me, a picture of desperate, oral devotion, her muzzle soaked with her drool and my precum. The next she was a blur of motion across the small room. Her back was to me, her hands slamming down onto the cool ceramic edge of the sink, her claws extending reflexively, flexing against the hard material with a soft scraping sound.

She bent low, her powerful legs spread wide, her furry backside presented perfectly, invitingly. Her tail, which had been curled in embarrassment only moments before, was now held high, a proud banner revealing the sight beneath. Her slit was swollen, puffy, glistening with her copious arousal. The fur on her inner thighs was slicked flat, plastered down by her own wetness.

She turned her head, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her amber irises, dark and blown wide, held a look of pure need. A raw, primal hunger that burned away every last trace of her usual shyness. “Please, sir,” she breathed, her voice a ragged plea. “Take me. Use me. I’m yours.” That plea, that begging…

I don’t remember moving, don’t remember crossing the small distance between us. One moment I was staring, drinking in the sight of her perfect, offered backside. The next, I was behind her, the slick, swollen head of my cock pressing against the puffy, needy lips of her cunt.

Bria mewled, a deep, debauched sound that vibrated through her body and into mine. She thrust her hips back instinctively, trying to impale herself on me, her body desperate for the invasion.

My hand came up reflexively, smacking down hard against the curve of her furry ass cheek. The sharp crack of the impact echoed loudly in the small room, stinging my palm. A flicker of worry shot through me - had I hurt her? Was she even into that?

But Bria just moaned, a long, shuddering sound of pure pleasure. “Sorry, Sir,” she gasped, her voice thick and strained. “I won’t move. Please fuck me, Sir.”

Her words, the raw submission in her tone, shattered the last remnants of my control. My hands found her hips, gripping the soft fur and the solid muscle beneath. And without another word, I thrust forward, a single, brutal motion that buried me to the hilt in her quivering, grasping depths.

Bria let out a deep, primal scream, a sound torn between agony and ecstasy, her body freezing for a single, impossibly long moment as she took my full length.

But I didn’t freeze. Fueled by the overwhelming sight and sound of her surrender, I fucked her. Hard. Fast. My hips slammed against her offered backside, the wet slap of our bodies echoing in the small room. I could feel the slick, soaked fur of her inner thighs against my skin, could smell the sharp, musky scent of her arousal mingling with my own.

Bria was whimpering, small, broken sounds muffled against the cool ceramic. Her body squirmed under my assault, trapped between my driving thrusts and the unyielding fixture. She tried so hard to stay still, to obey, even as her hips bucked involuntarily. She tried so desperately to keep quiet, even as ragged moans tore from her throat. She was failing gloriously at all of it.

Bria twisted her head, looking back at me over her shoulder. Her amber eyes were wide, dark with a desperate, pleading intensity. The muscles in her neck corded with the strain of holding the position, of holding back the tide that was clearly about to overwhelm her.

“Oh, goddess,” she gasped, her voice a ragged, broken whimper. “Please, sir, please, I need to cum. Please, I can’t stop. Please, sir, please have mercy…” Her words dissolved into a series of incoherent, needy pleas, lost in the frantic rhythm of her ragged breathing.

I stared at her for a blank, uncomprehending second, my own mind lost in the raw, primal act of fucking her. Then, her words penetrated the haze. My previous command. ‘You will not cum.’

A slow smile spread across my face. I leaned in, my voice a low, commanding growl against her furry ear. “Cum for me, Toy.” I paused, letting my words sink in, letting her feel the release it offered. Then I added the final command. “And say thank you.”

Her body froze instantly, every muscle locking rigid beneath my hands. The pulsing walls of her quim clamped down around my cock like a superheated vice, milking me, trying to wring every last drop of sensation from the moment. Like she was trying to anchor herself to me against the storm that was breaking inside her. Her powerful thighs quivered violently, and I felt the muscles in her stomach convulse under my touch as the orgasm ripped through her.

I tried to keep fucking her through it, my hands gripping the soft fur of her hips, trying to maintain the rhythm. But the sheer intensity of her climax, the way her body seized and pulsed around me, forced me to slow, my own movements becoming shallower, less demanding.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last wave crested and broke. Her rigid body relaxed, slumping forward against the sink with a long, shuddering sigh. She turned her head, looking back at me over her shoulder again. Her eyes were dazed, unfocused, her face flushed with the afterglow. A small contented smile touched her lips.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” she whispered, her voice thick and languid with release.

I looked down at her, at my Bria, slumped over the sink, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her release.

A fierce, possessive hunger surged through me. Seeing her like this - broken, sated, and smiling. It wasn’t enough. I had a primal urge to claim her completely, to brand her, to mark her as mine in every possible way.

My hand, which had been resting on the curve of her hip, moved. I let go, my fingers tracing a path upwards, finding the base of her tail where it met her spine. I wrapped my hand around it, gripping the thick, soft fur tightly, pulling and squeezing.

Bria grunted, a sharp, surprised sound. Her eyes went wide, rolling back in her head for a split second as her breath sucked in sharply. Her whole body tensed under my touch.

My other hand moved lower, finding the glinting silver ring nestled between her furry cheeks. My fingers closed around the cool metal of the butt plug. Her knees buckled slightly at the contact, a soft whimper escaping her as I put pressure on it, pulling firmly, insistently.

“I want to claim you, Bria,” I told her, my voice a low, rough growl against her ear, thick with possessive intent. “I want to fuck your ass, fill it with my cum. Then,” I continued, giving the plug another deliberate tug, “I’m going to plug you back up. And for the walk home…” I pushed my nose into the fur at the base of her neck, inhaling the sharp, musky scent. “…you’re going to feel my cum inside you, reminding you just whose you are.” I paused, letting the words, the images, sink in. “Do you want that?”

She nodded frantically, her head bobbing against the cool ceramic of the sink, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and raw, desperate anticipation. “Please, sir,” she choked out, her voice a ragged whisper. “Claim me. Use me. I’m yours.”

My hand held her tail firmly, the thickness a surprisingly solid anchor. I got the distinct impression that the base of a Rakiri’s tail was a nexus of nerve endings, a sensitive point that radiated sensation through her entire body. I stepped back, my cock slipping out of her with a wet slurp.

She groaned again, a low, drawn-out sound, panting heavily as I held her there, pinned by my grip on her tail and my other hand resting possessively on the cool metal ring of the plug still nestled in her clenching ass.

Slowly, deliberately, I began to pull. The plug resisted for a moment, held tight by the involuntary clench of her muscles, before it began to slide free with a soft sound. Bria gasped, her body relaxing slightly as the pressure eased. I could see her claws digging into the ceramic of the sink, white lines appearing around the pressure points.

As the plug slid completely free, shining in the harsh light, Bria let out a long, shuddering breath. Then, panting, she begged, her voice a raw, desperate whisper against the cool sink, “Please… claim me.”

And I did. I shifted my hips, and angled myself lower. I pushed the slick, swollen head of my cock against the spongy, yielding opening of her asshole.

Her breath hitched again, a choked whimper escaping her as she felt the blunt pressure. Then I pushed forward, slowly, deliberately, forcing my way inside her forbidden depths.

The feel of her tight band of muscle clenching around the head of my cock was almost painful. It was an exquisite friction, a brutal welcome that sent jolts of agonizing pleasure straight to my brain, making my own breath hiss between my teeth. My cock was already coated in her slick juices, thick and copious, providing lubrication that eased my passage, but the tightness was still intense.

I could smell her arousal, a sharp, musky scent that mingled with the faint, metallic tang of her earlier climax. Her juices dripped onto the pristine white tile floor, ran in glistening rivulets down her inner thighs, soaking the fur flat against her skin.

Anyone who used this bathroom later would know exactly what had happened here. The thought that Zyl and Tian would catch her scent on the walk home and they would know what we’d done sent another jolt of possessive heat through me.

I pushed deeper, inch by painstaking inch, stretching and filling her completely. I felt the scalding heat of her insides, the incredible, almost unbearable tightness… I heard Bria’s pants dissolve into choked whimpers, her whole body shivering under me.

“Oh, goddess,” she gasped, her voice thick and strained. “It’s so big… I feel so full…”

Finally, my hips pressed fully against the firm, furry curve of her buttocks. Bria shuddered, a full-body ripple running through her, and she grunted out, her voice a strangled cry, “Oh, goddess, I’m…”

Her ass clenched down on me, impossibly tight, a liquid heat that defied description. I could feel the ripple of her muscles, the pulsing waves as she came hard around my cock, her ass milking me with involuntary spasms.

Then, she shivered one last time, her body relaxing slightly against the sink. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered, her voice thick and weak with release. “Thank you for making me…”

I interrupted her thanks by pulling back, the slick sound echoing in the small room, before thrusting back in with a powerful surge. I used her tail as leverage, my hand gripping the base, anchoring her as I began to drive my cock in and out of her tight rear. My hips crashed against her buttocks in a relentless rhythm.

Bria yowled then, a high-pitched, primal sound that wasn’t subtle, wasn’t quiet. I was sure someone outside the restroom must have heard it. Her hands, her claws, gripped the washbowl with desperate strength, leaving long, deep scratches in the ceramic surface.

She tried to say something, fragments of words lost in ragged gasps, but I didn’t let her. I didn’t stop. I used her, just as she’d begged me to, just as she desired.

The raw intensity of the moment consumed us both – the catharsis of the earlier meeting, Bria’s submission, the final, undeniable connection between us, our intertwined desires burning away everything else.

And then they fused, converged into a single narrow point of release. The friction, the heat, the tight clench of her anus around me – it was too much.

A low growl tore from my own throat. My vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the slick heat gripping me and the sound of her ragged whimpers. She arched herself, trying to take me as deep inside herself as she could. My own back arched, muscles locking as the coiling tension in my gut spiraled so tight it burned, roaring until it finally snapped.

With a final, guttural groan, I exploded deep inside her constricting heat. My hips spasmed, driving me deeper as my cum poured into her, hot and thick, filling her completely. Each pulse was a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure, a final, definitive claiming.

For a long moment, I remained buried deep inside her, tremors still echoing through both of us. Then, I slumped against her, my breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps, spent and satisfied. I heard Bria’s panting slow, and felt her relax around me. A moment later, I realized I was still clenching her tail, my grip possessive even in release. I carefully loosened my hand, not wanting to crush it.

“Thank you, my Sir,” she breathed.

⸻

The walk home was slower than usual. My leg, which had felt surprisingly strong on the walk to the office, now throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, forcing me into a more pronounced limp.

Bria was slow too, moving with a subtle stiffness, a tenderness in her gait that I knew was my fault. But the discomfort was clearly overshadowed by a deep, radiant contentment. A soft, continuous purr rumbled in her chest, and a blissful, almost dreamy smile hadn’t left her face since we’d stepped out of the bathroom.

She was pressed tightly against my side as we walked, her body a warm, solid presence. My arm was wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close, and her own arm snaked around my waist, her hand resting possessively on my hip. Her tail was wrapped snugly around my good leg, a furry, intimate anchor that made walking slightly awkward but felt right. I don’t think it was physically possible for her to get any closer without us fusing into a single, multi-limbed entity.

She was silent, lost in her own happy haze, while Tian, Zyl, and Kaelis chatted animatedly around us, their voices a cheerful counterpoint to our quiet bubble.

Tian and Zyl were recounting their own meeting with Tuli, their tones a mixture of triumphant satisfaction and lingering disbelief. Apparently, Tuli hadn’t even tried to argue when they’d tendered their resignations. Her professional composure had completely crumbled, replaced by a desperate, almost pleading energy.

“She went straight to asking about documentation,” Tian recounted, a note of grim amusement in her voice. “Didn’t even ask why we were leaving. Just wanted to know where the project plans were, if we’d checked in our code.”

Zyl let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “She reminded us we were expected to work out our notice period,” she added, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “I looked her right in the eye and said, ‘I think I’m sick.’” Zyl then let out a single, theatrically weak cough that sounded nothing like an actual illness.

I burst out laughing at the image, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. The movement sent a twinge through my ribs. I’d definitely strained something, but it was worth it. Bria, nestled against my side, barely registered the story, only flinching slightly at my sudden laughter. She just snuggled closer, her contented purr intensifying, lost in her own world.

Kaelis, walking on my other side, bumped her shoulder against mine playfully. “Hey,” she said, her voice bright with a sudden thought. “Do you want to go by a bakery? Grab some lunch?”

Before I could even answer, Zyl’s voice cut through the air, sharp and definitive. “Deep, no,” she declared, pointing a firm claw first at Bria, then at me. “We’re going home. These two need a shower.”

Bria, who had been deaf to the world, perked up instantly at the mention of a shower. Her head lifted, her amber eyes suddenly bright and focused. “Oh,” she breathed, a dreamy, faraway look stealing over her features. “Shower… together? Okay.”

⸻

Chapter 20 - Promise

Some Time Later

There is a universal cheat code, a life hack, a divine truth: Move. Travel. Remove yourself from the familiar, from the known. Cut away the emotional weight of your everyday environment, of history, of expectations, of the tyranny of the normal. It can be for a weekend, or a lifetime. It can be to a new park, or a new galactic spiral arm.

This step into a new location breaks previous patterns. The absence of the familiar grants freedom. Faced with novel sights, sounds, and experiences, your brain is stimulated, sparking creativity as it forms new connections. Distance from the people and places tied to your routine, your anxieties, or joys allows our emotions to clarify, letting you see more objectively. The novelty demands attention, focusing the mind and freeing it from familiar ruts.

Is it frantic, uncomfortable? Yes, always. But the freedom of action, the clarity of mind, to upset expectations, to know what’s important, is unmatched. Seek the unknown, and in it, find yourself.

Something pulled me from the depths of sleep. It wasn’t a noise; the cabin, nestled deep in the wilderness far from the low hum of Vor’s Scratch, was unnaturally quiet. Winter had descended in earnest now, and the landscape was blanketed in a thick layer of snow that muffled even the usual creaks and groans of the trees moving in the cold.

No, it was the subtle, rhythmic pressure of a body moving against my back. Furry breasts, their nipples pebble-hard like little erasers, nudged against me with the calculated ‘subtlety’ of someone only pretending to be asleep. I heard a faint, almost inaudible pant, the sound confirming my suspicion.

A slow smirk spread across my face in the morning gloom. Tian. She was my ’bed warmer’ last night, a decision reached through some complex pack calculus I hadn’t even tried to understand. They’d arrived at the cabin late last night, tumbling into bed tired, Tian curled up behind me. And, as I’d quickly learned, this was Tian’s way of asking for her much wanted morning sex.

I pulled away just a bit, enough to roll onto my back and look at her. Tian’s bright green irises were wide open, focused entirely on me. A corner of her lip was caught between one of her larger fangs, a clear sign of her own arousal.

“Morning, Tian,” I murmured, my voice still thick with sleep. “Sleep well?”

She just nodded, the movement barely perceptible, before leaning down to kiss me gently. I let her, tilting my head slightly to meet her. I felt her lips part, her long, surprisingly pliant tongue darting out to taste my lower lip before gliding past into my mouth. Any fleeting worry I might have had about morning breath vanished; it clearly didn’t bother her.

I reached out, my arms wrapping around her to pull her closer. One hand brushed against the fullness of her breast, my fingers squeezing the rounded weight gently, stroking softly. A muted moan vibrated against my lips, muffled by their kiss. Tian took the touch as an invitation, pressing herself more firmly against me.

I kissed her back, moving my tongue over hers, pushing deeper into her mouth, feeling the sharp points of her teeth in my exploration. She sighed into my mouth. I moved my hands over her back, feeling the solid, powerful muscles beneath the plush fur, a tangible reminder of the strength coiled within her athletic frame.

My kiss deepened, becoming less gentle, more demanding. Tian responded with equal fervor, her own palms beginning to explore my chest, her claws retracted but the pressure was firm, caressing my torso as if trying to feel all of me at once.

A low growl rumbled in her chest as my hand slid lower, mapping the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip. I cupped the firm roundness of her ass cheek, squeezing gently, and she bucked slightly against me. Her free hand came up, holding the nape of my neck firmly as her tongue plunged deeper, claiming my mouth with a fierce, almost desperate energy.

I could feel the warmth radiating from her body, smell the clean, musky scent of her fur mingled with the faint, sharp tang of her arousal. Her breathing grew heavier, faster, each exhale a hot puff against my skin as she began to subtly grind her hips against my thigh. My cock, already fully hard, pressed insistently against her belly as she moved.

She shifted one hand down then, relinquishing her hold on my chest to grasp my erection, her touch both a question and a claim. She broke away from the kiss for a moment, pulling back just enough to look down at the shaft her hand was holding.

“Oh Deep,” she breathed, her voice a husky whisper that seemed to catch in her throat. “I’m always surprised how fast you get hard… do you want me to suck you or…” Her gaze flicked back up to meet mine, a silent, hopeful question in her bright green eyes.

I grinned, a slow, predatory expression spreading across my face. “I want to be inside you, Tian.”

Tian let out a deep, guttural moan, the sound a raw expression of need. In one fluid motion, she moved, her powerful legs swinging over me. She dragged herself upwards slowly, deliberately, the wet friction of her cunt sliding up the length of my thigh before pressing firmly against my straining cock.

She moved her hips then, a measured, deliberate grinding motion, rubbing her wet heat over the head of my cock, coating me in her slickness. A faint whimper escaped her lips, her eyes squeezed shut as she reveled in the sensation. But she didn’t take me inside, not yet.

Just as I reached out, intending to claim those tempting, swaying breasts, Tian grabbed my cock again, positioning it firmly against her entrance. With a final, possessive push, she impaled herself, sinking down onto me.

I groaned aloud, my hands instinctively coming down to grip the bedsheets as she took me inside. Tian was impossibly tight, her inner muscles clenching around me, a hot, wet pressure that stole my breath. She cried out again, a long, shuddering sound that vibrated through us both as she took my full length.

I felt the sudden lack of movement as she settled her weight onto me, her lightly fuzzed pussy lips pressing against the base of my erection. She opened her eyes then, looking down at me, a wide, predatory grin spreading across her face. Her hands came down, finding my bare chest, her palms pressing flat against my pecs, beating me to my own attempt to fondle her breasts.

And then, she began to move, pulling herself upwards with agonizing deliberation. I watched, captivated. My focus traveled past the incredibly distracting sway of her tits, past her hands braced on my pecs, and fixed on her core. On the sight of her wet, plump folds dragging, torturously, up the length of my shaft.

I could see her cunt lips tremble as she held her breath, concentrating on the measured, exquisite friction. Up, up she rose, until only the very head of my cock was held within her clinging velvety grip, the sensation almost overwhelming for both of us. Then, she breathed again, her breath coming in short, sharp pants, her grin widening as she concentrated on the feel of me inside her.

She began her descent, pushing down slowly, angling her body so her clit, fully exposed and engorged with lust, pressed against my cock shaft as she slid down onto me. Her breath hitched, her legs trembled visibly against my sides, and another low moan rumbled from deep within her chest.

Her hands remained pressed possessively against my pecs, but they were unmoving, her fingers splayed wide, forgotten as her entire being focused inward. Both of us were entirely absorbed by the intense, almost unendurable sensation of my cock slowly entering her tight, scalding heat.

She repeated the action, rising slowly, deliberately, her entire being focused on the feeling of my cock moving inside her, stretching her, filling her.

I loved watching her take the time she needed, savoring every micro-sensation as she adjusted, easing into the intimacy. I never tired of this unmatched view: the fit Rakiri, usually so boisterous and energetic, now completely lost in the slow burn, moving herself on me, her entire focus narrowed down to the feeling of me inside her.

I clenched my own muscles, holding myself still, fighting back the primal instinct to thrust, to move. I let her revel in the moment, let her set the pace. There would be time for movement, later.

My hands moved from the bedsheets, coming up to cup Tian’s heavy, furred breasts. I felt their weight, the dense muscle beneath the supple pelt, a solid, grounding reality in the dim morning light.

My fingers moved gently across their flanks, feeling the downy fur give way to smoother skin near the underside, stroking them softly. I bypassed her nipples. I knew from experience they didn’t do much for her. Instead, my fingers sought the gentle, caressing pressure on the sides, kneading the full weight of her breasts. That was different.

I focused my attention there now, my thumbs drawing slow circles on the outer curves, my fingers gently squeezing the fullness. Her unhurried, deliberate movements, which had been focused entirely on the sensation of me inside her, faltered for a heartbeat. Her breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp in the quiet room, and her panting picked up pace, growing heavier, faster. Her hips began to move with a new urgency, no longer just adjusting to me, but actively seeking friction.

I started meeting her thrusts then, mindfully, but quickly gaining confidence. I drove myself upwards into her oppressive heat and tightness, the slick friction sending bolts of pleasure through me.

Tian groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated down my cock. She abandoned her measured, controlled rhythm, her movements becoming faster, more aggressive, slamming her hips down onto mine with a desperate, hungry energy.

I groaned her name, my voice a raw, ragged sound. “Goddess, Tian,” I gasped out, my own hips bucking against hers. “You feel incredible. Watching you… feeling you squeeze me… fuck, Tian…”

She shuddered at my words, a violent tremor running through her frame, her eyes still squeezed shut as she focused entirely on the feeling of me filling her, driving into her.

Her shudder seemed to break her trance and she remembered where her hands were, still pressed possessively against my chest. They began to roam, no longer just bracing her, but exploring. Her palms slid over my pecs, her fingers tracing the definition of me. Her touch was a languid, unconscious counterpoint to the frantic rhythm of her hips pistoning deep onto my cock.

I reached down then, reluctantly releasing her glorious breasts. My hands moved to her hips, guiding her movements, feeling the powerful flex of muscle beneath the soft fur. One thumb brushed downwards, finding the hard, prominent nub of her clit nestled in its furry hood.

Tian whimpered at the contact, her eyes flashing open, wide and dark, locking onto mine.

“I want to fuck you, Tian,” I growled, my voice low and rough. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel all of you.”

She didn’t say anything, but she bit her lower lip hard, another low rumble vibrating deep in her chest.

I moved more deliberately then, harder, thrusting upwards into her with an audible wet smack that echoed in the quiet room. My thumb moved, playing over her clit, stroking the sensitive flesh, pressing against it gently with the rhythm of our thrusts.

Tian unraveled. The last vestiges of her control shattered. Her movements became less coordinated, more frenzied, her hips bucking wildly against mine. I used my hands on her hips as best I could, trying to match her desperate cadence, driving myself deeper into her scalding heat with each surge.

And then she crashed down onto me, a final, convulsive movement, grinding her clit hard against my own pubic bone, my thumb trapped between them, becoming another point of intense friction. She didn’t make a sound, her mouth opening in a silent howl, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands gripping my chest with a force that was almost painful.

She held herself there, humping, grinding against me in a feverish, frantic pace, milking every last drop of sensation from the moment until, finally, with a long, shuddering sigh, she slumped down on top of me, boneless and spent.

She lay there for a long moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her weight a welcome pressure. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, raining small, gentle kisses across my jaw, my cheeks, my eyelids. Her hands came up to cup my face, her touch light now, almost reverent, as she panted softly against my skin.

I captured her mouth, kissing her back deeply, claiming her mouth. I ran my tongue along the sharp edge of her teeth; the feeling drew another quivering response from her. The movement rippled through Tian’s body, a tremor that traveled down her spine and right into my cock, still buried deep inside her, slick and soaked in the flood of juices she’d released moments before.

“I love seeing and feeling you like this, Tian,” I whispered against her lips, my voice thick with possessive satisfaction.

Tian panted softly, her body boneless beneath me. “Uh,” she managed, her voice still breathy and weak with release. “Sorry, I didn’t… didn’t make you… you know, finish. Give me a second, I can…”

I interrupted her apology before she could finish. Using my good leg for leverage, and a considerable amount of practical experience I’d gained recently, I flipped the larger Rakiri woman onto her back in a surprising motion.

Tian shrieked at the sudden movement, her eyes flashing open wide with shock as she found herself beneath me, the world suddenly inverted. In the process, I’d slipped out of her slick heat, the wet sound echoing slightly in the quiet cabin room. But that, I thought with a predatory grin spreading across my face, only made what came next more fun.

I took hold of my still-hard cock, the shaft slick with her juices, and moved it deliberately between the sodden, swollen lips of her sex, pressing the head against her entrance.

Tian groaned, her body tensing under mine. “Wait,” she stuttered out, her voice a strained whisper. “Slow… I’m sensitive…”

I didn’t let her finish. With a low growl, I thrust forward, driving myself deep inside her with a single, forceful motion.

Tian yelped, a sharp, high-pitched sound of shock mingling with pleasure. Her hands flew up, gripping my arms with fierce strength as she held on, her eyes wide and dark. She moved her hips, rising to meet my forceful thrusts. My hips slamming against hers in a hard, insistent rhythm as I claimed her completely.

She whimpered then, panting heavily under my assault. “Oh goddess,” she cried out, her voice cracking, “you’re doing the thing… oh Sten!” she shrieked, her voice breaking as another wave of intense pleasure washed over her. She brought her knees up as I continued to thrust into her hard, the angle changing, driving myself even deeper.

Just then, a firm knock echoed from the closed bedroom door, followed immediately by Zyl’s voice, muffled but clearly audible. “Hurry it up in there, you two!” she shouted, her tone a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Kaelis just arrived, and breakfast is going to be ready soon. And you, Tian,” Zyl added, her voice taking on a sharper edge, “we’ve got a hunt this morning, remember!”

Tian’s body clenched around me in a frustrated spasm, her hips giving a useless little buck against mine. She was trembling too hard from the aftershocks to form a coherent response.

I paused my movements, lifting my head slightly. “Um, give us a bit!” I shouted back over my shoulder towards the door, my voice strained. “I’ll make sure Tian is in one piece!”

I looked back down at Tian, at her glassy, unfocused eyes, the way her lips were parted as she panted softly beneath me. A slow, wicked grin spread across my face. “Mostly, anyways,” I added, my voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her.

Then, holding her wide, dazed eyes with my own, I began to move again. A measured, deep, deliberate thrust that stole the air from her lungs all over again.

⸻

I stretched out on the wide couch, a contented sigh escaping my lips. Kaelis’s head rested comfortably in my lap, her rhythmic breathing a soft counterpoint to the crackling fire in the hearth. She was dozing, exhausted but peaceful. The Vors Vipers had played an away game just before our trip out to the cabin, and she’d taken a red-eye shuttle flight straight back, only arriving at the cabin this morning.

I gently stroked her dark hair, marveling at the contrast between the fierce athlete I’d watched on the holo-vid highlights last night and the soft, vulnerable woman curled up beside me now.

The ’cabin’ itself was huge. Six separate bedrooms branched off the main living area. Back on Earth, a place this size would be a corporate retreat center or a boutique hotel. Here on Dirt, I mused, it probably made sense. With the typical family structure involving multiple wives and kids, six bedrooms was on the small side.

The whole winter cabin concept still felt strange to me. I was used to summer cabins from my time in Europe, and I’d been an enthusiastic adopter of the experience. But willingly heading into a Dirt winter, with its snow drifts measured in yards, not feet, well that was another matter.

I pictured Zyl’s ancestors hiking out here, with the whole family, before the Imperium ‘uplift.’ These days, thankfully for myself and Kaelis, ’modern’ technology made it much easier, and warmer, to get to one.

Lyra and Torka were due to arrive sometime soon, they were staying in one of the spare bedrooms before heading back to Vors. The rest of us were going to stay for a whole week. Even if the recent past hadn’t been demanding, this time away with my pack was a break I was anticipating.

From the adjacent kitchen, the soft sound of humming drifted into the living room, accompanied by the rhythmic chop of a knife against a cutting board. Bria was clearly in her element. She moved with a quiet, focused grace, her tail giving a soft, contented sweep against the cabinetry with each precise slice through a xilli root.

I smiled, watching Bria work over the back of the couch. That xilli root would be perfect for the hotpot I’d suggested for dinner. I remembered the conversation with Bria yesterday when we’d been planning meals for our Winter Cabin Getaway.

Her initial look of utter bafflement slowly turning to intrigue, “Imagine a big pot of simmering broth,” I’d said, “right in the center of the table. Then, everyone gets their own little dipping bowl with sauces.” I’d explained the platters we’d prepare: thinly sliced turox, maybe some seafood if they could find it, heaps of chopped vegetables, maybe even some kresh dumplings.

“Everyone cooks their own pieces right in the shared broth,” I’d explained. “Fish it out, dip it in your sauce, eat it, and grab something else. It’s really social, cooking and eating together. Plus,” I’d added with a grin, “it means everyone can eat what they prefer. Us leaf eaters can nibble away while the meat eaters…” I’d trailed off, giving her a saucy grin and pinching her ass. My gaze lingering on it. We’d gotten a bit distracted after that, but the dinner idea had been a winner.

Tian and Zyl had left a couple of hours earlier, disappearing into the white landscape surrounding the cabin. Zyl, ever the confident huntress, was sure she could bag a fresh snowglider for tonight’s dinner. The fuzzy deer-like creatures were apparently plentiful in this region, especially during the winter months when they descended from the higher peaks seeking forage. Tian had gone with her. She wasn’t nearly as obsessed with the hunt as Zyl was, I knew, but she was still Rakiri. The call of the chase was in her blood.

They’d grabbed their rifles from the rack by the door – sleek, high-tech coil-guns that looked surprisingly elegant despite their deadly purpose. As they were heading out, Tian had also slung a strange collection of net-frame contraptions over her shoulder. Curious, I had asked what they were.

“Crayfish traps,” Tian had explained with a grin, tapping the heavy hunting knife strapped to her hip. “Some of the streams are rich with them. I’ll crack through the ice, drop these babies in with some bait, and hopefully, we’ll have some fresh crustaceans to add to the hotpot tonight.”

The thought of fresh, sweet crayfish simmering in the savory broth had made my mouth water. “That sounds amazing,” I’d said genuinely.

I’d watched them go, a familiar pang of awe mixed with a healthy dose of ‘what the actual fuck’ settling in my gut. They were dressed in nothing more than those ubiquitous, skin-tight base layers – subdued, practical greys and blacks this time, not the vibrant gym colours Tian usually favored – their thick fur apparently more than enough insulation against the biting cold. Their rifles were slung casually over their shoulders, the traps bundled under Tian’s arm, and simple utility belts cinched around their waists held a few pouches and their knives.

They moved with a silent, fluid grace, their digitigrade feet finding purchase in the deep snowdrifts with an ease that looked utterly unnatural to my human eyes. One moment they were there, two powerful figures silhouetted against the bright snow, the next they had melted into the stark, white wilderness, leaving only a faint trail that the wind was already beginning to erase. It was decidedly weird, seeing them just vanish like that into the frozen landscape, seemingly impervious to the elements. But then again, I reminded myself, for them this was just… normal.

I let out a slow breath, running my fingers through Kaelis’s hair as she dozed, her head a comfortable weight in my lap. I loved the contrast of her hairstyle – the soft, almost bristly feel of the short undercut on the sides against my palm, and the longer, silky strands on top that my fingers could easily comb through. She snuggled closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips, her breath warm against my leg. A small trail of drool darkened the fabric of my sweatpants. I smiled.

I let my gaze drift around the large living room of the cabin, my thoughts wandering back. Life had settled into a new, complex rhythm, Kaelis still technically had her room back at the Vipers’ team complex, a spartan single unit provided by the team, but she never slept there anymore. Even on the nights when one, or more, of the other girls claimed the spot beside me in Bria’s massive bed, Kaelis would stay. She’d curl up on Tian’s bed, who, spurred by some unknown motivation (perhaps the constant presence of a guest, perhaps my teasing), had actually made an effort to excavate her room from the usual avalanche of clothes and sports gear.

Things were still a bit cramped back at the apartment. Five people sharing a three-bedroom flat, even built for Rakiri dimensions, inevitably led to clashes. Shared bathroom schedules, whose turn it was to take out the overflowing recycling, the simple logistics of navigating a crowded kitchen – small domestic dramas flared up daily. We were five individuals with different habits, different expectations, different tolerances for mess, all trying to learn how to live together. Disagreements were unavoidable.

I smiled, remembering my first real confrontation. They’d all been tip-toeing around me for weeks, their ingrained cultural deference to ‘the male’ making them hesitant to voice any complaints directly at me. They’d snipe at each other, sure, but never at me. Until Bria, sweet, quiet Bria of all people, had finally snapped.

I’d left a saucepan soaking in the sink – again – intending to deal with it later. Bria had walked into the kitchen, taken one look at it, and the dam of her polite tolerance had just… broken.

“Deep take you Sten!” she’d snapped, her voice cracking with a sudden frustration that silenced the room. “Can you please just clean the sink when you’re finished? It drives me insane!”

The moment the words were out, horror had washed over her face. Her hands flew to her mouth, her amber eyes wide with shock at her own outburst. Tian, lounging on the couch nearby, had frozen mid-scroll, her own expression mirroring my surprise.

I had just looked at Bria, taken aback by the sudden intensity. The room was dead silent. Then, seeing the genuine panic in her eyes as she realized what she’d said, I couldn’t help it. I’d started to grin.

“Yeah,” I’d admitted easily. “You’re right. I’m terrible at that. Sorry. I’ll try and do better. Here, let me clean that now.”

Bria had stared at me, stunned into silence. Tian had let out a snort of surprised laughter from the couch. Then Bria had nodded slowly, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders. When I’d gotten to the kitchen, without a word, she’d given me a quick, firm kiss before turning back to whatever she’d come into the kitchen for, leaving me standing there.

We’d worked it out. It proved it didn’t have to be a big deal; they just needed to know they could talk to me. Like adults. Like a pack.

We were looking for a new place, though. The three-bedroom apartment wasn’t going to work long term, especially with the constant, low-level thrum of protectiveness that kept the girls orbiting me whenever I was home. We’d each wanted our own bedroom, a private space to retreat to. More importantly, we needed a dedicated work area, separate from the main living space.

The ISRP money, the relocation allowance I hadn’t even known existed until Lady D’exa’s pointed questions, had finally materialized. A terse notification had arrived on my data-slate citing a ‘bank error’ and confirming a substantial deposit. Added to the girls’ savings, it was more than enough to buy a decent place on the outskirts of Vor’s Scratch.

But after a long discussion, a moment where all five of us sat down for a focused, practical pack meeting, we’d decided against it. Renting, for now, made more sense. That windfall, carefully managed, could keep us afloat financially while we focused on our real goal. The one we were officially launching tonight, after dinner. The one that required space, equipment, and, most importantly, time.

I gently shifted Kaelis’s head from my lap, interrupting the pleasant weight. “Hey, K,” I murmured, my voice soft. “Sorry, I need to use the bathroom.” Her sleepy eyes blinked open, a flicker of confusion in their depths. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” I added quickly, offering a reassuring smile. “Then maybe… I could give you a back rub?”

She let out a low, sleepy grumble, a sound of contented approval as she shifted, releasing my leg from its comfortable prison. I carefully pushed myself up from the couch, my movements slow and deliberate.

I limped towards the bathroom, the familiar gait now an ingrained part of my movement. My leg didn’t really hurt anymore, not in the sharp, agonizing way it had. Now it was more of a dull ache, a constant, low-level throb that flared up if I pushed myself too hard. The limb itself was a mess of thick, ropy scar tissue, visible evidence of the violence I had endured. It pulled in odd, uncomfortable ways when I stretched or tried to move too quickly.

My limp had improved significantly since those first, agonizing steps, thanks to countless hours of rehab and physiotherapy. But it hadn’t gone away completely. I was back to the gym though, working under Zyl’s watchful, protective eye.

The doctors weren’t sure if the limp would ever improve. They’d mentioned options – advanced prosthetics, lab-grown muscle grafts, a newer procedure now that Shil medical technology had a better grasp of human physiology. But I had waved them off for now. Maybe later. For the moment, the thought of spending any more time in sterile hospital rooms, of subjecting my body to more poking and prodding, was unbearable. I just wanted a break. A chance to heal, to live, and to focus on the future we were building. Limp and all.

⸻

Later that evening, Lyra and Torka had arrived and the seven of us were gathered around the large dining table in the cabin’s main room. Laughter and conversation filled the warm space, mingling with the fragrant steam rising from the bubbling hotpot at the center of the table.

Kaelis, perched between me and Bria, was meticulously assembling a perfect bowl, while others simply reached across each other to drop ingredients into the simmering broth. We were a chaotic, happy tangle of limbs and voices.

Zyl’s hunt had been successful, and she’d returned earlier that afternoon with a fine snowglider slung between herself and Tian. She’d spent an hour bleeding and butchering it with practiced skill, and now paper-thin slices of the lean, dark meat were piled high on a platter, alongside turox and other cuts Bria and I had prepped.

Zyl had wrapped and put aside a particularly good haunch for Torka to take home and turn into jerky. I was already looking forward to the inevitable, delicious results.

Platters overflowed with ingredients, inviting us to cook. Mounds of thinly sliced meats, vibrant arrays of alien vegetables I couldn’t name but eagerly tried, bundles of noodles, and the various dipping sauces Bria and I had whipped up.

Everyone dug in with gusto, eating utensils clattering against bowls, the simmering pot a communal hearth drawing us all together.

Tian’s crayfish traps hadn’t yielded a huge bounty, but it was enough for everyone to have a couple of the large, bright blue crustaceans each. They were incredible – small bursts of sweet, delicate flavor that were a perfect counterpoint to the rich meats.

Lyra, naturally, was holding court. “…so then the idiot triggers the containment field again,” she was saying, waving her hands for emphasis. “The HOA is threatening to classify his entire collection as ‘un-shielded munitions’!” Her story, we gathered, was about one of her more eccentric clients. A minor noble with a penchant for antique Shil’vati weaponry and an unfortunate habit of testing them indoors.

Her story was punctuated by frequent, affectionate interruptions from Torka, who sat beside her, periodically thrusting choice morsels of food – a perfectly cooked slice of snowglider, a particularly plump crayfish tail – directly into Lyra’s mouth mid-sentence, much to everyone’s amusement and Lyra’s feigned exasperation.

Just as Lyra finished her tale, wiping a smear of sauce from her chin with the back of her hand, she leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh,” she said, leaning in as her voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. “I heard some interesting news at the courthouse the other day.”

The shift in her expression immediately captured everyone’s attention. The casual chatter died down, and all eyes turned to her. I leaned forward slightly. “Oh?” I prompted.

Beside Lyra, Torka just grinned, a slow, knowing expression spreading across her face. She took a deliberate sip of her drink, clearly aware of what Lyra was about to reveal but content to let her partner have the floor.

Lyra lowered her voice further, though it still carried easily in the sudden quiet around the table. “Yeah,” she said, savoring the moment. “A certain ‘Ms. D’nah’, recently employed as Logistics Officer for House D’vejin, was rather publicly sentenced to execution. The official charge was… let me see…” She pretended to consult an imaginary data-slate. “…‘unspecified crimes against the social peace’.”

The name meant nothing, but the title - Logistics Officer for House D’vejin. Well that landed like a physical blow. I froze, a piece of snowglider halfway to the bubbling pot. “The driver?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Lyra met my gaze and gave a single, slow, deliberate nod. “Yeah,” she confirmed quietly.

I didn’t know how to feel. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over me – a grim satisfaction that justice, of a sort, had been served. But also a chilling unease at the casual brutality of it all.

Execution. For ‘unspecified crimes’. Why weren’t the crimes public? I hadn’t been asked to testify. Of course not. The Interior had to protect their ‘Shining Example of ISRP Success’, after all.

A strange mix of relief and hollowness settled in my gut, too tangled to name. With a small, almost imperceptible shrug, I dropped the slice of snowglider into the hotpot, the simmering broth momentarily obscuring the turmoil in my mind.

It was Kaelis who broke the heavy silence, her voice quiet but clear. “I heard something too,” she said, looking around the table, her golden eyes serious. “From one of my sisters. Apparently, the Imperial Tithe Assessment Department paid a rather unexpected visit to Apex Connections last week. A full audit.”

Lyra grimaced, the expression sharp and visceral on her usually cheerful face. “Deep,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That’s scarier than the Interior. The Interior might throw you in a hole for the rest of your life, but the I-TAD? They’ll destroy your entire family.”

Around the table, Bria and Tian nodded in grim agreement, their earlier levity evaporating at the mention of the Imperial Tithe Assessment Department.

“That explains the court dates I saw scheduled for Tuli and Xyla later this month,” Lyra continued, her voice dropping back into its normal gossipy self. “I assumed it was related to the ISRP payout discrepancy, but I-TAD involvement… I saw they’d been refused bail, which tells you how deep they’re in it.”

I took a slow sip of my drink, letting the information sink in. “Well,” I said, my voice dripping with a sarcasm so thick you could spread it on toast, “I wish them well.”

Kaelis added, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “My sister said Apex has effectively shut down. Operations ceased almost immediately after the audit began.” She paused, a flicker of something unreadable in her golden eyes. “D’vejin’s creditors and hostile nobles are circling already. Looking to bite off the best bits while the house is vulnerable.”

I reached out under the table, my hand finding Kaelis’s leg and gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “What about Countess D’vejin?” I asked quietly.

It was Lyra who answered, her professional assessment quick and dispassionate. “Nothing that I know of,” she said with a shrug. “It’s unlikely she’ll face any direct charges from this. She’s too well insulated. But,” Lyra added, a flicker of grim satisfaction in her eyes, “her power base has been shattered. The financial hit from I-TAD fines, combined with the reputational damage… she’ll struggle to rebuild the house in her lifetime. Who would trust her now? She just threw some of her most trusted employees in front of the I-TAD and Imperium ground-vans to save her own ass.”

Kaelis nodded slowly, her gaze drifting to the simmering pot in the center of the table. “My sister… she wishes she’d followed my example and stayed out of House business,” she said softly, her voice quiet. She sighed, a small, weary sound. “With the House in trouble, Mother is scrambling. She’s trying to marry my sister off to House Corvus to forge a new alliance, fast. My sister wants nothing to do with it, she’s trying to get out, but… Mother doesn’t let go easily.”

I looked at Kaelis. Her brow was furrowed slightly, but the lingering hurt in her eyes was now mixed with a deep sadness. Not for herself, but for someone else.

“Hey,” I said gently. “If you want, invite her over sometime. Maybe for a drink, or dinner? Whenever you feel ready.”

Kaelis looked up, her golden eyes wide with surprise. “You… you wouldn’t mind?”

I smiled, my hand still resting comfortingly on her leg. “No, of course not,” I said simply. “She’s your family. And she didn’t do anything to me.”

Kaelis reached under the table to hold my hand. “Thank you” she whispered.

Torka, sensing the heavy moment had passed, loudly cleared her throat. “Alright,” she boomed, pointing her claw at Zyl. “Fess up. Did you really shoot that snowglider yourself, or did it just die of shock when it saw your face?”

Zyl sputtered in protest, and as the table erupted in laughter, the warmth I had come to cherish settled back over us.

⸻

The hotpot had been a resounding success, a warm, communal feast that left everyone feeling full and content. Even the cleanup had been a quick affair, fueled by the lingering energy of good food and good company. The lethargy of the meal had worn off, replaced by a focused excitement.

Now, we were gathered in the cabin’s spacious lounge. The remnants of dinner were cleared away, and in their place, somewhat incongruously against the rustic wooden walls, stood an honest-to-goddess whiteboard, especially brought with us for just this moment.

I stood before it, leaning slightly on my good leg, a marker pen held loosely in my hand. I looked around at the faces gathered – Kaelis, Tian, Bria, Zyl, Lyra, and Torka – my pack, my friends, my co-conspirators. A small, determined smile touched my lips.

“Alright,” I began, my voice cutting through the quiet anticipation in the room. “Welcome, everyone, to the first official owners’ meeting of… Circle.” I wrote the name on the whiteboard in neat, block letters.

I turned, my gaze sweeping over the group before landing on Lyra. “Lyra, all the official business paperwork was submitted yesterday?”

Lyra, ever the professional even in this casual setting, gave a single, sharp nod of confirmation. “Filed and timestamped,” she confirmed, her voice crisp. “Circle Holdings is officially a registered entity.”

I nodded, turning back to the group. “Okay. Just in case anyone’s had a stroke in the last day and forgotten,” I said, a wry grin touching my lips, “we’re going to build a dating app.”

I capped the marker and leaned back against the edge of a sturdy wooden table, my expression turning more serious. “We’re investing some of our savings into this project,” I continued, my gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. “Mostly, that’s going to cover living expenses for the development team. Lyra, Torka, and Kaelis all have real jobs, so they’re covered.” I grinned at our employed contingent, Lyra poked her tongue out at me.

Torka sighed dramatically. She muttered under her breath, loud enough for all of us to hear, “I wish I could get paid to stay home all day and just fuck.” Lyra’s cheeks immediately went bright blue, and she elbowed Torka sharply in the ribs.

“The actual overhead for the app itself is pretty small, especially at the start. And,” I added, a spark of confidence lighting my eyes, “our development timeframe is going to be quick. We know what we’re doing. We work well together. I think we can realistically have something ready to release in four months.”

I pushed myself upright again, turning back to the whiteboard. “Circle, the app itself,” I said, underlining the name, “is going to be simple. Radically simple.” I started listing points below the name as I spoke: “No tracking. No analytics. No marketing. No manipulative engagement algorithms. No crazy, tiered subscription models.” I paused, looking back at them, my expression firm. “Just… simple. Honest.”

Torka, who had been listening quietly from her spot on a plush armchair with Lyra snuggling into her side, spoke up then, her voice a practical rumble. “How are you going to make money?”

It was Bria who answered, her voice soft but clear, cutting through the quiet focus of the room. “One credit a month subscription,” she said, looking around at the group. “Everyone pays. No exceptions. Males, females… one flat rate.”

Torka frowned, tilting her head. “Is that enough?” she asked, skepticism evident in her tone. “One credit?”

I turned back to the group, putting the marker down, a thoughtful expression on my face. “What’s the potential dating pool on Dirt? How many singles are there, roughly?”

Tian, who had been leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, pushed herself upright. “Hard to say exactly,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “Dirt’s population is massive. Maybe a billion actively dating? Could be more, though.”

I nodded, a slow, calculating smile spreading across my face. “Okay,” I said, turning back to Torka. “Let’s say a billion. If we can capture just one percent of the potential market… just one percent…” I paused, letting the number sink in. “That’s ten million users. Ten million credits a month.”

Torka’s eyebrows shot up, her skepticism replaced by a flicker of surprised understanding. “Huh,” she rumbled, a low sound of dawning realization.

“That’s good money for a small team like ours,” I acknowledged. “But if the goal is to build a massive, permanent company. With offices, managers, and a serious marketing budget… Well ten million credits isn’t even a drop in the bucket. We’d need to capture a much larger percentage of the market to cover those kinds of operational costs.”

I turned back to the whiteboard, my expression serious, the earlier warmth replaced by sharp focus. “Right,” I said, picking up the marker pen again. “So, how do we compete? How do we differentiate Circle in a market that’s already saturated and, frankly, operates like a cartel? While also keeping our team small.”

I drew three bullet points under the main heading. “We’re going to have three key points of differentiation,” I announced, my voice gaining strength. “Three core principles that will set us apart.”

I tapped the first bullet point. “First, as I said, no manipulative algorithms. We’re not trying to keep people hooked; we’re trying to help them connect. Users can filter potential matches based on basic preferences – species, gender, dependants, whether they want a long-term relationship, casual dating, or just friends.” I paused, looking around at the group. “Beyond that? The app just returns a fuzzy, randomized list based on physical proximity. Closest matches first, fading out with distance. Simple. Honest. No hidden agendas.”

I moved to the second bullet point, my expression hardening slightly. “Second,” I said, my voice dropping, taking on a hard edge. “Transparency about safety. Any user with a documented history of sexual crimes – assault, harassment, anything that shows up on the official Imperium registries – will have that information displayed prominently on their profile. No exceptions. No opt-outs.” The memory of the deleted Weave post, of Xyla’s callous dismissal, fueled the intensity in my voice. “People deserve to know who they’re talking to. They deserve to make informed choices about their safety.”

I tapped the third bullet point, my gaze sweeping over the group, gauging their reactions. “And third,” I continued, my voice steady, “accountability. In any chat interaction, either party will have the option to release the last five minutes of that conversation. If they choose to do so, that chat log will be appended to both users’ public profiles, for a yet-to-be determined time.” I saw the flicker of surprise in their eyes and pressed on. “Think of it as a ‘receipt’. Proof of what was actually said. It cuts both ways. It protects people from false accusations, and it exposes those who engage in abusive or manipulative behavior.”

Kaelis spoke up then, her brow furrowed with concern. “But… what if you say something really embarrassing in chat,” she asked, her voice hesitant, “and then the other person threatens to release it unless you do what they want?” A faint blue blush crept up her cheeks, and I couldn’t help but suspect she was thinking of some of the more… creative… messages they’d exchanged while she was at away games.

I nodded, acknowledging the validity of her concern. “Yeah, that’s a tough one,” I admitted. “It’s a risk. But think of it this way: yes, you might be embarrassed if something private gets released. But the person who released it? They’re exposing themselves as a potential blackmailer, someone willing to weaponize intimacy. That’s a huge red flag for anyone else looking at their profile.”

I paused, tapping the marker against the whiteboard thoughtfully. “We’ll definitely need some kind of time limit on how long those released chats stay public. Maybe a few weeks? A month? I’m not sure yet. That’s something we’ll need to figure out, probably get some user feedback on once we launch.”

Before the discussion could delve deeper into the nuances of chat retention policies, Lyra spoke up, steering the conversation in a new, practical direction. “Okay, this all sounds great,” she said, her tone shifting back to her sharp, lawyerly focus. “But what about marketing? You said there was no marketing budget. How are people actually going to find out about Circle?”

I nodded, acknowledging Lyra’s point. “Yeah, good question,” I agreed, turning back to the whiteboard. “It’s pretty clear that the existing players, the top two dating apps now that Pursuit is probably defunct, aren’t going to roll out the welcome mat for us. We have to assume they’ll try to block us from advertising on major platforms like The Weave, or any other space they can control.”

I paused, looking around at the group, my expression thoughtful. “And even if they didn’t, we can’t compete with them on marketing spend. They simply have more money, more resources. Trying to outspend them would be suicide.” I capped the marker pen and leaned back against the table again. “So,” I said, a slow, calculating smile spreading across my face, “we play a different game.”

I gestured vaguely towards the ceiling. “Thanks to our… friends… at the Interior, I’ve got a bit of minor celebrity status now. And my actual experience building dating apps back on Earth? That’s a unique angle.” I pushed myself upright again. “I’ve already reached out to a few of the local colleges and technical institutes here in Vors. With my background and perspective, they’re surprisingly keen to have me give some guest lectures. Plus,” I added with a knowing grin, “they’re always looking for ways to promote more males entering technical fields, so having a ‘successful’ human male engineer speak is a win for them too. We can definitely play that up. Talks about software development, cross-cultural product design, that sort of thing.”

My gaze shifted, landing on Kaelis, who looked up, a questioning expression on her face. “And then there’s Kaelis,” I continued, my smile widening. “Our resident Grav-Ball superstar.” Kaelis blushed faintly but didn’t look away.

“So, here’s the plan,” I announced, my voice gaining energy. “We do a mini-tour. We hit the colleges, the universities. I give my talks, share my ‘unique human male perspective’. Kaelis comes along, maybe does a Q&A, signs some autographs, generates some buzz.” I grinned. “And while we’re there, we subtly, or maybe not-so-subtly, promote Circle.”

I held up a hand before anyone could interrupt. “But here’s the key,” I said, my voice dropping slightly, becoming more conspiratorial. “It’s exclusive. At least, initially. You must be a college attendee to get access. We hand out a limited number of invite codes at these events. And the only other way to get an invite code? Is from someone who already has the app.”

I looked around, letting the idea sink in. “We’re not going for mass-market appeal right away. We’re building scarcity. Exclusivity. We want Circle to be the cool, underground thing that everyone’s talking about precisely because not everyone can get in.” I saw the understanding dawn in their eyes. “We build the mystique, the ‘cool factor’. We let word-of-mouth do the heavy lifting. Then,” I finished, a triumphant glint in my eyes, “once the buzz is loud enough, then we open it up to the general market.”

Lyra spoke up then, her professional demeanor returning as she addressed the group. “Okay,” she began, glancing pointedly between herself and Kaelis, “speaking as one of the two least-technical people in the room… This looks and sounds good.” She paused, her gaze sweeping over the whiteboard and then back to me. “I’m sure there are a lot of details that still need to be fleshed out, refinements to the plan.”

Her expression turned more serious, her lawyerly caution surfacing. “But what if it fails? What if Circle never builds that ‘cool factor’ you’re aiming for? What if you run over the development timeline, or Countess D’vejin uses the last dregs of her dying power base to sabotage you somehow? Maybe she gets Circle kicked off the Imperium App Store, or smears your names?” The questions hung in the air, a necessary dose of reality injected into their optimistic planning.

I met her gaze, my earlier confidence unwavering, but now tempered with a pragmatism that matched her own. I nodded slowly. “Then we fail,” I said simply, the words devoid of drama. “If Circle doesn’t work, for whatever reason, we kill it. We shut it down, learn from the mistakes, and we build something else.”

I glanced over at Torka, a thoughtful look on my face. “Maybe we find some boring, unsexy software widget that connects two different critical parts databases used in Shuttle Maintenance,” I suggested. “Something niche, something useful, that we can then sell to every logistics company on Dirt for millions of credits because it saves them ten minutes per shuttle.”

I shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the determination in my eyes. “Or we go out and get a contract to build customized, soul-crushing HR software for some mid-level corporation. Or inventory management systems. Or anything, really.”

I looked around at the faces of my pack, my expression softening but losing none of its resolve. “The point is,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “we have runway. We have the ISRP money, we have our savings. That gives us time. The four of us,” I gestured to Tian, Zyl, Bria, and myself, “are good at what we do. We can keep trying, and failing, until we find a niche, until we build something successful. Especially,” I added, my gaze sweeping over Lyra, Torka, and Kaelis, “with the support of all of you.”

Lyra nodded, her expression still thoughtful, processing my response. “Okay,” she said finally, her sharp lawyer’s mind already moving to the next logical step. “So, you build Circle, you find your niche. You achieve success. And then what?”

I looked around the room, my gaze lingering on each face – the girls, my friends, my pack. Kaelis sitting on the couch with a suspicious open spot I suspected was for me. Tian grinned back at me, Bria offered a small, shy smile, and Zyl met my gaze with her usual calm steadiness. Torka, arm around Lyra, gave a slow, approving nod.

I shrugged, a simple, relaxed gesture that spoke volumes about my newfound sense of belonging. “I don’t know,” I admitted honestly, my voice quiet but certain. “We’ll figure it out then, won’t we?” A slow smile spread across my face. “Maybe we sell it off to some big venture capitalist firm who’ll inevitably take our simple, honest app and fuck it up with predatory monetization and invasive tracking.” I chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “And we all go sip daiquiris on a beach somewhere on a fancy resort world.”

Zyl grimaced at the mention of a beach, muttering something under her breath about the unholy combination of sand and fur getting into places it should never, ever go.

Tian, however, perked up, her ears twitching. “What’s a daiquiri?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

I just laughed again, the sound filling the cozy cabin. “Or,” I continued, throwing another possibility into the mix, my gaze drifting towards Zyl, “maybe we take our millions of credits and buy a huge hunting reserve somewhere up in the highlands of Dirt. We can become self-sufficient hippies who grow our own vegetables and hunt our own food.”

I looked back at the group, my smile widening. “Or maybe we do both. Or maybe we keep Circle, grow it ourselves, and use the profits to build something else entirely.” I shrugged again, the future an open, inviting landscape rather than a source of anxiety. “We’ll know more then anyway. There’s no point worrying about it too much now. We’ll figure it out when we get there, together.”

⸻

After another hour or so of intense brainstorming, throwing ideas back and forth about Circle’s features, promotional ideas, and potential pitfalls, a not-so-subtle shift occurred.

Torka, who had been listening quietly, her expression thoughtful, offering the occasional, insightful perspective, finally uncoiled herself from the armchair and Lyra. Without a word, she moved to the front door, stepped outside, and grabbed some bottles that were sitting in the snow, chilling.

She returned a few moments later, expertly holding two handfuls of icy drink bottles. Amber Golds, Sun-Ciders, and Red-Grains. She handed them out, her calm presence an insistent, silent signal that the intense ‘work’ portion of the evening was done.

Everyone took the cue. The whiteboard, covered in my scrawled notes and diagrams, was forgotten. Bria snapped a picture of it for future reference. The focused energy of the planning session dissolved, replaced by a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere. The tension of launching their new venture eased, giving way to the simple pleasure of good company.

Conversations sparked anew, lighter this time, drifting from Kaelis recounting amusing anecdotes from Grav-Ball fans to Tian challenging anyone brave enough to a round of some complex-looking board game I didn’t recognize. Laughing arguments broke out over trivial matters-the best way to cook snowglider flank, or the merits of different mecha loadouts in MDO.

Platters of crackers, cured meats, and pickled vegetables that Torka had brought appeared, and the drinks continued to flow. The cabin filled with the easy sounds of relaxing together, the earlier intensity replaced by a warm, contented buzz.

Torka and I settled into a pair of armchairs near the fireplace, securing a quiet corner away from the main room’s cheerful noise. We were picking at a bowl of her spiced jerky as we sipped our drinks. The smoky spirit in our glasses, tasting of burnt sugar, was a familiar comfort.

That burnt sugar spirit carried history. I’d first tasted it at ’The Broken Pick’ on my second day on Dirt-the night I met Torka, Lyra, and Kaelis, just a day before meeting Tian, Bria, and Zyl.

“What is this we’re drinking?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “I feel like I should know the name, but it’s just not sticking in my head.”

Torka looked at me, her gaze steady and thoughtful over the rim of her glass. She took a slow sip before answering, her voice a low, serious rumble. “It’s a very old, traditional Rakiri drink. It’s called ‘Sopimus’.”

“Sopimus,” I repeated, the word feeling strange and foreign on my tongue. “What does that mean?”

“The closest translation in Shil is ‘Engagement’,” she said, her green eyes watching me, gauging my reaction.

I looked at her, my curiosity piqued. “Engagement? As in… getting married?”

She shook her head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. “It’s… a signal. A tradition, from long before the Shil came to Dirt.” She paused a moment. “Long before Provisional Family Unit agreements,” she added, chuckling at me.

“It’s a strong spirit. A man getting drunk with a woman he didn’t trust was, is, a dangerous thing.” She sat there, looking into the flames, thinking. “If a woman was courting a man, and he drank Sopimus with her, it was a signal, and a promise. ’I trust you. I can lower my guard. Let come what may.’” She leaned forward slightly, her grin turning sly. “And, of course, a perfect excuse for him to stay the night.”

I let her words settle, their weight sinking as I considered the last months. How my life had changed. The crackle of the fire filled the sudden silence between us. My gaze drifted from Torka’s steady, watchful eyes to the rest of the room.

Kaelis and Tian were huddled together, their heads bent in an intense, animated discussion about the pros and cons of different styles of Grav-Ball sticks.

Across the room, Zyl, Bria, and Lyra were laughing, their voices a cheerful murmur as they played a card game I didn’t understand. But I was sure I’d be dragged into later.

I looked around at them, at this strange, wonderful, chaotic group who had so quickly become a part of my life. Seeing them, feeling their ease across the room, I realized I wasn’t a stranger in a strange land any longer. I was home.

I paused, then raised my glass to the room, a silent toast to them, to this moment, to the future, to the unknown. I drank the rest of the Sopimus in one smooth, deliberate motion. With my friends, my pack… Let come what may.

THE END

⸻

Authors Notes

Words of Unwarranted Self Importance

Thank You.

Thank you for reading Engagement. I had a blast writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you made it to this — which is entirely an exercise in self-aggrandizement — then I assume you got something out of it.

The Engagement that I finished was very different to the story I started. It was always intended to be a tale about life, cultural clashes, and romance. But I had a very firm direction and plot I was going to follow, and the characters took it another way entirely. Hell, when I started writing it, I wasn’t sure if I’d have any smut… and well, here we are. It also tripled in length, so there’s that.

This is my first time seriously writing any fiction, but as G. K. Chesterton said, “Anything worth doing is worth doing badly.” Hopefully you enjoyed it. I definitely learned many things. So the next time my hands write words, hopefully, they’ll be better.

There are some AI-generated images after the Authors Notes that get close to what I imagine Kaelis, Tian, Bria, and Zyl to look like. I’d love to commission an artist to do a proper job of drawing the girls and Sten - but, well, Engagement is strictly a non-commercial project. And artists deserve to be paid.

Words Pertaining to the Future

As of now (2025-10-28), there is no Engagement II. Sorry. There might be more written about Sten, Kaelis, Tian, Bria, and Zyl — and Torka and Lyra. But I have nothing planned.

Does Circle succeed? What happens to the pack? Do they adopt kids? Do they stay on Dirt? Does The Countess come after them again? Does Kaelis’s sister get free of her mothers influence? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions. I like to think they live happly ever after, and figure things out together.

I do have several more stories in the Sexy Space Babes (SSB) universe that I’m actively working on. I’ve hinted at them in Engagement! I hope you read them when they’re released. I also have works planned outside the ‘Collective SSB Universe,’ but thats in a much more conceptual phase.

All of that will be released on my website eythi.com.

Words about Individuals of a Superior Mettle than Mine

Most importantly, thankyou to BlueFishcake for creating the Sexy Space Babes universe. If you havn’t read all his works, I highly recommend them:
- Sexy Space Babes
- Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons
- Sexy Steampunk Babes - I think this might be my personal favorite of Blues’ works.
- Sexy Sect Babes

Support Blue Here!

I also want to give special thanks to the following fan authors:
- Digging Up Dirt by Between_The_Space - They kind of started the ISRP-microverse. Engagement wasn’t going to be set on Dirt at all. But their story encouraged me to change tacks. Sadly, I don’t think we’ll see any more chapters than the first.
- New Life? by Thethinggoboomboom - They were a big support to me while I was writing Engagement. And I really enjoy New Life! Go read it!
- Only Human by DisasterWhiskey
- A Chance Encounter by CatsInTrenchcoats

Those last two are both major inspirations for Engagement. The complexity and inter-personal relationships really encouraged me to write words with my hands.

Words of Overdue Culmination

Thankyou, again.

You can see all my work eythi.com, along with various ways to contact me.

I hang out on the BlueFishcake Sexy Writing Discord Server. So come join, ping me in #eythiwriteswords. I’m always happy to chat.

Words of an Extraneous Supplementary Additament

Travel. Be uncomfortable. Talk with the weirdo. Take the path less trodden. Seize opportunity and (consensually) ride her. Catch and sing the sun in flight. Find your pack.

Kaelis

Tian

Bria

Zyl

Release History

v1.0.1 Minor Tweaks (2025-11-01)
- Added note and tags to introduction. - Fixed Amazon link to SSB

v1.0.0 Initial Release (2025-11-01)
- Major editing pass on early chapters from Reddit/AO3/SH releases
- New cover (AI Gen)
- Images of Kaelis, Tian, Bria and Zyl included (AI Gen)