Aion of Olympio

== 6 -- Aion Ascendant ==

Zooming toward Jove station, Aion absentmindedly rubbed his dickhead as Princess Magna steered the chariot. Fontus-28 rapidly shrank to another one of a million glints across the heavens.

"For this purpose," the lady in red continued, "we'd like to recruit you. Just one mission, to expose the raider nest on your home habitat."

Magna gave him a smile that would probably have made a straight guy's dick instantly soften for emergency jizz-prevention.

A sense of deep calm settled in the muscleteen at the same time as an electric surge for action gripped his fibers. The scent of hyacinth and citrus came with a scalp-tingle as if he'd listened to a pleasant voice for hours.

"What do I do, radiant highness?" Aion asked, his hands now by his side, standing at attention in a light lat-spread.

"I'll give you another packet for Maximus. We're still fairly sure he had some relations with the raiders. Or someone around him does. His sources will inform him off important data you'll allegedly carry in addition to the one meant for him."

"I'm bait?" Aion said. "I mean, I shall act as a lure, your radiant highness. It's my pleasure."

Arc-dust strips broke formation around the princess and settled on him.

"You seemed to know how to use it," Magna said, "as responsibly as can be expected from a male. Talon Zeno will tell you the rest. We're almost back."

Aion bent his back and sucked his dick dry as the lady pulled her chariot between pale gray skyscrapers and gently set down beneath a rainbow bridge on ground level.

Her transmundane swans broke apart into human forms and marched with rhythmless steps to wherever the nearest Brain needed them to go. Aion hopped off the chariot as it fractured into mundane metal boxes that snapped to the nearest wall.

Zeno was waiting for them under a golden arch, lit by what light fell through the rainbow bridge above where hunks crossed.

The 'talon' -- a commander of knight forces - was not in his knight-form to stay inconspicuous, just a normal 195 centimeter (6'5'') tall. He gave a bow to the princess, deep enough to kiss the dickhead of his 29 centimeter rod.

The disciplined hunk was a Parakeet going by his neck tattoos. His color was peach, plait mohawk and nose ring looking pale against his dark bronze skin. His right forearm was aglow with constellations Aion wasn't familiar with.

A phantomic circlet sat on his head. A peach-colored fulminare gem dangled off his ear, to give his motions greater power. A horseshoe piercing made his cockhead more inviting to sit on.

Dusty again, Aion could easily glean the muscleman's state with the lightest dip into psycher pulses. Zeno was anxious but hopeful. The fuck-marks on his chest would both fade within days and he hated going virginal. With a 66 day load saved up, he was eager for pussy.

"Greetings, mate-master, sir," Aion said and went into a squat. He swallowed the lightly precum dripping dick and bobbed his way down the shaft.

"Hey there, cunt," Zeno said. "You've been told the important part?" The talon pulled the muscleteen farther under the bride, checked that the princess was preoccupied with her tesseract and grabbed Aion by the neck to push him down. He humped the psycher's throat for a bit, making suppressed whimpering sounds until his dick slightly softened to prevent an accident.

"You'll be deputized," Zeno said as Aion rose. "That includes liberation rights and shit. You understand what the fuck that means?"

"Yes, fuck-master, sir."

The muscleteen could barely contain his excitement. He flexed his abs, rubbed his thighs and rode the edge as his dick turned ten percent soft.

The talon picked up a fingerless black glove from his hip strap. "Touch a dude with this shit and he gets liberated if you fucking will it. For disciplined ones, that's momentary. You've been temp-lib'ed before?"

"Sure, dick-sir. Feels weird as balls, walking the wrong way for a few steps and snapping the fuck out of it, then seeing something rush by that the Brains needed moved."

"Cumshot. For potent dudes, it's possibly for the fucking duration of a task, if that. Maximum one month of light liberation in severe as balls circumstances, not that you'll run into those."

"Right. And if he's indulgent..."

"One year plus whatever the Brains need. Consciousness only sporadic. Proper fucking liberation. Obviously, any *criminal* will be sentenced fucking properly. Nothing for you to jizz about."

"Fuck yeah."

"This is a covert mission. Don't use the glove unless you really fucking gotta, cunt. Keep it hidden."

Aion slipped into the glove. He let dust trickle over it and watched it fade. Invisible.

Magna was ready, too, having prepared the golden worm. The psycher dropped to his knees in front of her and accepted the packet.

###

From "Popular earth children's songs":

Humans once arcana shaped, to light far cosmic sights. // In gentle armor ever draped, we stride 'cross astral nights.

Oh arc, light fire 'round the stars. // Bedazzle earth and moon and mars.

Arcana won't you show the path, peace and prosperity. // Our ascension's aftermath, our daughters see with clarity.

Oh arc, light fire 'round the stars. // Bedazzle earth and moon and mars.

###

Under the hues of Icarus' false sky, the herald on covert mission mingled with the loose crowd around a quartet of wrestling pits, each with a pair of teen-adonises vying for dominance, their semi-hard dicks flopping between their thighs as they gleamed oil slick. Most were Hillstars but this was the edge of their territory. Most wrestlers were potent, rings white, but some were even disciplined. Older hunks cheered from the edges.

First Feather Maximus was cheering among them, shouting instructions as a potent Hillstar muscleteen pulled a disciplined Penguin into a spladle. The loser remained spread with open legs, his hole accidentally covered by his thick semi flopping onto his crack. But both players' dicks hardened as they held position for the judge.

Aion sensed a half dozen overwhelming desires to jump into the pit and fuck the muscleteen senseless. With how many indulgent hunks there were around, the loser would probably get several loads fagged into him.

"Maximus, dick-sir?" Aion asked and gave the hunk's pecs a rub from behind.

"Ah, the psycher is here for another fucking go. Faunus told me there was more to jizz about."

"Not that I'd fucking know," Aion said. "Just the messenger and shit."

The crazy buff dude with orange as his color led the way. His immense back rippled as he swaggered, a fresh gracehoney constellation twinkling on color splotches at the base of his neck.

The duo had a hand on each other's dickhead, gently rubbing, as they made it to a row of six benches outside a glamour wine bar.

Two were stone sauna-benches, the lean musclemen fucking on them drenched in sweat. The other four were leatherglass, but equally occupied. Phantomic tablets held frozen cubes of glamour wine in different aromas.

The psycher herald and the first feather were about to squeeze themselves next to some cockriders when Faunus approached them.

Maximus' assistant with the pear green hair and white septum ring grabbed Aion across the pecs and pulled him around. "Better not fucking do it *here*. Too many suspicious as balls eyes on us lately. The Grand fucking Beak just said something about a second raider incident in as many fucking days."

As he spoke, an omen made itself known -- eyeballs squeezing out of dark corners. Vigilance. The psycher nodded.

"Good point, whore," Maximus said. "I heard some shit went down with a herald."

"Cumshot," Aion said and suppressed a grin. "Not super worried, don't jizz. Let's look for a spot."

Among the naked concretanium covered in graffiti of dicks and tits, they found a storage shed with wrestling mats and body oil barrels between fog-bleeding pipes.

Faunus stood guard outside, while the psycher and the suspected raider contact Maximus sank against a mat. Aion let the muscleman press himself on top of him and bottomed for a minute, riding the edge with sporadic making out.

Maximus' dick softened a tiny bit and his blissful, focused expression turned more neutral. "Ready, cunt?"

"Yeah."

They put their foreheads together and Aion let the message slip through his consciousness, briefly aware of its content but unable to hold onto it.

They spasmed and briefly blacked out.

Aion came to with the weight of Maximus pressing down on him and the muscleman's wrist-thick 25 centimeter (10'') still snuggly inside him.

Faunus had entered and towered over them with a grim expression. He held a phantomic device, a pearly outline of a tube with a trigger. A stunner, shit. And in his other hand was an extractor tube.

Aion brought the invisible glove down on Maximus to let his body get taken over by a Brain and commanded the vessel to get off him.

Faunus aimed the stunner and-

Aion lashed out with his psychic might, bolstered by hidden arc-dust.

Faunus flailed backward, his nerves cramping. Both devices fell. The semi-real stunner fractured into sprawling geometric patterns as it hit the ground.

The temp-liberated Maximus rose with slow, uncoordinated zombie moves. Aion pushed his way free, his abs involuntarily flexing as the top's dick slid from his guts.

The psycher let used-up glitter rain from his skin as he pushed himself against gravity to hasten his rise. Faunus was pulling something from thin air -- no, he had to carry invisible things.

Aion pushed his arms out and sent sparkling force at the enemy. With the grace of the arc on his side, he tore the veil around Faunus into wobbly bits. He followed up with a twirl, slamming his heel into the muscleman's chest.

Unreality around Faunus ripped. His chest strap carried several more items than it had seemed. There was an occlusion gem shard worked into the leather, keeping him undetected. So he was probably important to the raiders -- maybe even a leader of sorts. Cumshot.

Faunus had caught himself and started pummeling the muscleteen with his fists. Aion blocked competently but got leg-sweeped to the ground.

A knight burst through the door, which was just tall enough to accommodate him. He was armed with a wand, trying to make sense of the situation.

Before Aion could shout, Faunus pulled a ring from his chest strap onto his middle finger and sent waves of force at Aion and the knight. His impetus gem, getting squeezed for all it held.

The psycher let the force shove him into a pile of mats. He wasn't going to be able to reach the enemy with his glove but maybe if the knight shot-

Faunus pulled something else from his strap -- a palm-sized bar of compressed arc-dust. Unaffordable. He was obviously super high ranking with a criminal organization.

Transmundane particles in red and green filled the air as it grew heavy. The wall ruptured silently to create a hole for the delinquent to slip through, into darkness.

It was too small for a knight and already started closing.

Aion rushed in. No longer having to push against the impetus gem's force made his leg muscles practically catapult him into the wall space.

He crashed into pipes and clung on. It was a shaft. Where had the asshole gone? Dropped?

Aion heard noise above and glanced up. He burned arc-dust and lit up his skin where the glittering substance sat. Faunus was above, walking horizontally. He was using dust to make gravity go sideways.

Aion did the same. Running up a wall like it was floor felt weird.

He let his dick go semi-soft. Not that running made his dick swing in a way his muscles couldn't involuntarily compensate but he had to be battle ready. The semi-soft dick flopped on his thighs, drops of precum getting flung onto his quads.

His supply of unreality wouldn't be able to keep pace with entire *bars* worth of the illegal powder so he had to be fast. Running bent over in the narrow but high wallspace, Aion made it higher and higher along the buzzing pipes until he had nearly caught up to the culprit.

Faunus swung his glittering bar's remains and let it crumble. Bits of shimmering dust rained down -- coming right at the wall-running muscleteen. They flared to fireballs.

Aion dodged, giving Faunus enough time to get to the shaft's ceiling, kick a grate aside and jump out. Pipes melted on fireball impact and drenched the shaft in hot fog.

When Aion caught up and climbed from the vent he got to see Faunus' back as the muscleman made a superhuman jump over a rainbow hued vendor stall cover.

They were nearly at the fake sky, orange and purple and a few streaks of cyan almost close enough to touch. The large rooftop was a marketplace, crowded with adonises mingling, shopping and sucking themselves.

Aion burned a tiny bit of arc-dust around his eyes and zoomed in on Faunus as the dude vanished in the crowd. There was a leaplove constellation on the small of his back. Superhuman jumps. Fuck.

The teen-adonis felt the light prickling that came with an omen. Shadowy hands hovered over the crowd, perched and ready to nip down.

Aion gave himself a nod and made his way through the crowd by touching everybody ahead with his gloved hand. Hunk after hunk jolted as a dark hand gripped his face and made him amble out of the way. The hands retreated again from the minds of disciplined and potent hunks, but lingered on indulgent ones. They were liberated now, condemned to mindless labor.

Well, becoming indulged had been their choice. Also, it was hot as fuck to liberate random bitches.

Aion jumped into a fountain where a quartet of teens was sucking dick in a circle while bathing. Four indulgent assholes, cumming all day. He liberated them even though they were out of the way.

Faunus remained occluded so the Brains weren't going to tell Aion where to go. He had to find... Several hunks now formed a corridor for him and pointed, shouting for him.

A pillar into the sky.

Aion rushed to a shattered grate at the pillar's base, seeing the traces of spend arc-dust coating the melted edges.

Another dark upward travel. But this time there was a ladder and red emergency lights dotted the length. He lightened himself and climbed at superhuman speed.

Faunus was far ahead but had to stop at sluices. He had a new bar, spending liberally to make the round gates fade.

Aion nearly caught up when the enemy let another nearly spent bar crumble to make the walls bend and twist, closing in around the muscleteen.

Burning yet more of his own supply, Aion fought off the spatial attack, which gave Faunus enough time to slip into a side tunnel.

The psycher followed and found himself in a bath café. Pools of gold and silver water, ankle-, knee- or hip-high were stacked throughout a hall where hunks bathed, danced or chatted. Sauna benches ran along the walls where hunks sweated in the open, self-sucking their sweat dripping cocks.

Aion ran on the golden water surface as dancing musclemen made it splash around him. Burnt arc-dust trailed his steps. He liberated as he went to get them out of the way. Most were at least potent anyway, so it hardly mattered. And the odd indulgent bitch didn't matter either.

"Green Hillstar?" Aion asked. "Potent, light skinned."

An attendant waved at him. A disciplined, purple-haired Crane with snake bites made to match his septum ring. The hunk pointed as Aion neared. "Ran out on the street. I tried to go fucking after and shit but he jumped so high."

"Fucking leaplove constellation," Aion said. "Where the fuck'd he go?"

The Crane shrugged. "Didn't see."

Aion gave a nod and ran outside. He found himself in a rising canyon of dark, jagged metal and immense glass shards shining in prismatic light.

At the core of Jove lay an arrangement of repurposed colony ships and other early vessels, forming a substructure of open canyons and high tunnels.

Rainbow steam plumes veiled some of the surrounding. The muscleteen walked down steps into a loose crowd of adonises, mostly disciplined. He had no idea which way to go.

Something blurry moved in the corner of his vision.

His gaze fell on a plaque taller than himself. The Robin symbol, half eaten by rust, taken from the side of a First Arrival ship. As if to drive home what a disappointment he was to his order.

The symbol moved. Robins -- actual little birds -- broke from the metal and fluttered in circles. A premonition?

The swarm dashed off, through steam. Aion ran after.

The birds twirled around a screen of famous wrestler Urban the Parakeet getting spread in a spladle in his recent loss, the camera as interested in his hole as in his suffering face.

What did that mean?

The birds dashed through the displayed asshole, making the projection flicker -- just how close to real were these premonitions? -- and flew up the building behind it.

Halfway to the top was an ancient colony ship's turbine exhausts, worked into newer concretanium. Three tubes, easily eight meters (26') across. The ones on the side were covered in lit rosettes and inhabited, but the central one was a light waterfall of pink liquid collecting in a pool below, between a hairdresser and a capsule repair shop.

"I gotta get the fuck in *there*? Enter the hole?"

The robins were gone. He could only hope he had understood them right.

Musclemen grunted in surprise as the psycher jumped, glitter raining off him. With a half-scream, he got catapulted into the massive, century old exhaust and landed on pink water that played around his ankles.

Two figures up ahead in the dim light. One with a white gleaming nose ring -- Faunus - and one indulgent dude with no glow to his face.

They clearly saw the muscleteen splashing their way. No time for subtlety. Aion rushed in.

Faunus spun and gave the indulgent adonis a kick to the back, making him stumble at the pursuer. Aion and the stranger crashed loosely into each other, giving Faunus time to bolt while the now-liberated stranger tumbled aside.

Threads of silver and black seemed to trail after Faunus -- omens of unknown meaning -- as he ducked into a shaft that went diagonally up.

Aion followed him into darkness, ascending the man-high tube where exhaust, fuel and drainage ran under a half-ladder half-staircase. Metal creaked under the teen-adonis' stomping feet. He let the meager glow of his nose ring be enough, with a dash of arc-dust enhancement to his vision.

The Robin emerged into an alley barely wider than the tube, with graffiti-streaked concretanium reaching five stories up to either side. The iridescence of the cosmic welkin far above was reflected in puddles along the alleyway.

Faunus was nowhere to be-

The black and silver strings faded fast but they lead up. Aion spotted the raider leaping between walls, ever higher.

Four knights appeared at the alley entrance, wands ready.

"Up!" Aion shouted. "The fagger is going up."

Two knights tried to shoot up, the others ran around the building to the elevator. Aion burned arc-dust to rise. With fingers and toes ultra-sticky, the muscleteen climbed the wall nearly as fast as Faunus had leaped.

The roof of the building was a wide golden dome, intersected by many stained glass window strips. Faunus slid through an open one and dropped into the crowd inside.

Within was a social function of about a hundred hunks. Disciplined only. No women. By the plethora of fuck-marks, expensive jewels and constellations, these were some of the richer adonises across Jove. Waiters, recognizable by the white cuffs, walked around offering flutes of Diaphanous Mead imported from the earth system.

The chambers' walls were full-length mirrors except for large stained glass rosettes looking outside. With those mirrors and the bright white floor reflecting the crowd and the opalescent ceiling, spotting a single potent hunk was no easy task.