Chapter Nine
Tristan
The next morning, I wake with a warm appendage over my belly. I blink hard, yawning, but trying to be still. So I don’t wake my pack mates. My mates.
Holy shit, I’m an alien omega. A grin breaks across my face. I look down and see it’s Ink’s tail over me. I touch it tentatively.
It’s soft and smooth, almost like a strong calf muscle. I stroke it and she twitches. She’s still sleeping though. I rub her tail, up and down, as I breathe in the slightly humid air, still scented with the incense Azane had put in the woodstove.
I turn a bit to look out the tall window and catch Zilas looking at me, his face soft.
“Morning,” I offer, voice low, not wanting to wake the ladies.
He breaks into a full grin and raises his hand to cup my face. “Careful touching our tails like that, cutie, they are pretty sensitive.”
I moan, my cock jerking in my cage. My balls throb a bit, but since I finished last night, it’s not too bad.
I want to ask Zilas a million questions, but part of me is worried that will be frowned upon. To ask the other male, instead of the alphas.
Eventually, nature calls.
“Can you take this off?” I ask.
“Fuck no. I don’t want to end up in one.” He looks shocked that I’d ask.
“I just mean... to use the bathroom. I need to.” My skin heats, reddening. I’ve always been inclined to blushing and sunburns and such.
“Oh,” Zilas whispers. “No, you piss through it. If that seems icky to you, you can rinse off after.”
I blink hard, my gaze going to the wooden ceiling and the bluish vines draped there. Okay, maybe I’m not sure about this. For sex? Sure. All day, every day? I don’t know.
Zilas chuckles, leaning in and his mouth meets mine. I marvel again at their split tongues. He’s quite skilled with it.
He rumbles softly, not a purr, but a deep sound of need, “Come suck my cock, omega.”
Need flutters through me. But I hesitate.
“C’mon now, cutie, you’re expected to serve your pack.” He grins, his handsome face boyish and inviting.
I find myself smiling back. “The alphas won’t mind?”
“No, of course not,” he responds easily. “It’s your place in the pack, omega. As Azane leads and Inken keeps us in line.”
“What is your job, beta?” My voice is flirtatious, and he responds to it with an indistinct sound.
“We are a bit of an unusual pack, I’d say, Tristan.
But in my–short—time with Traex, I’ve taken over the cooking and some of the care roles.
This is not normal for a beta, per se, unless they are helping the charax.
.. but... things are changing, I believe, and for the better.
Perhaps betas will be allowed to fill, officially, the roles for charax and ufura some day. ”
I roll that around in my head.
“I thought they... you... we... moved here to be closer to traditional Celnoe society?”
Zilas looks thoughtful. “This is true, but what we want to connect with is the sense of community, sense of... family... that we lost in the move into large cities that happened generations ago. Setias is more about community, and less about traditional pack roles.”
As I process that, and its correlations to the shithole I left behind, Zilas curls his fingers in my hair. “Now, back to my cock, omega...”
I gaze down at his cock, a deeper blue than the rest of him. The head is round and flat, like a horse-cock toy. I swallow dryly. He’s on the very large end of human males and my mouth waters at his rich raspberry scent.
“C’mere sweet boy,” he rumbles, “Serve your pack mate as omegas are intended. I know it gets that smooth little caged dick of yours hard to be used.”
My mouth drops open at his filthy talk even as my cock twitches.
“See, there we go,” he responds, hand going to the back of my head.
I laugh and let him pull me to his cock. I lick up the wet head to his sounds of pleasure.
Soon I’ve got him deep in my mouth, drool running down his gigantic cock as I try to deep-throat him. His hand plays gently in my hair as he growls and moans. His enjoyment is obvious, and it’s making me harder.
Suddenly a hand cups my caged dick and I smell something minty. Inken. My stomach swoops, worried for a second, despite Zilas’s reassurances.
But she starts to purr even as I smell the sugary scent of Azane. “Sweet little slut. Good omega, seeing to your pack’s pleasure. That’s your job, kitten. To use your mouth or that tight little hole for our pleasure whenever we wish it.”
Her hand tightens, and I cry out around Zilas, but it’s not pain. It’s the most aching deep pleasure though with an edge of pain—because I am caged and not allowed to finish.
Zilas’s cum shoots down my throat and I swallow frantically. It’s more than a human male. More than the alphas produce through their strap-ons. I cough as I swallow and Zilas strokes my back.
“You simply need more practice, omega. We’ll get you trained up in no time. I always have more seed for you.”
Azane purrs, “Yes, but you’re putting it up the wrong hole, Zilas. Feed his hungry little ass next time.”
My cock throbs and I am afraid I might lose control for a moment, between their hot talk and Ink’s hand still holding me. But she lets go, sitting up, as if she could tell.
“Up we get,” Inken says firmly, standing and grabbing her trousers.
AFTER I HAD TO BEND over the chair for Ink to remove my trainer so I could use the ‘necessary room’ and then getting bent back over and it swiftly reinserted, we head downstairs, Azane in front of me, Ink and Zilas behind.
When we hit the ground floor, I look left and right repeatedly.
The intricate, curved front door is centered in front of the widely-spiralling staircase, the ennihas tree growing in the middle.
I hear Ink chuckle. “Azane did an incredible job. All the houses in Setias are required to be environmentally benign, have gray-water systems, incorporate natural features, and meet certain set-back regulations.”
I step to the right and Azane stops, reaching for my back. She places her large hand on my lower back as she makes a reassuring sound.
“That is the library-slash-living space, omega. The kitchen and dining areas are in the opposite direction. I showed you yesterday, but I believe you were a bit out of it.”
I let her lead me left and as the ceiling opens up, obviously to the part of the home not under the turret, my breath stops. It’s incredible. The ceiling is window panes, angled downward. I can only imagine making muffins here in a rainstorm, candles lit and my pack around me.
Plants are tucked everywhere: hanging in front of the windows, atop the green-painted cabinets their vines supported around the room, centered on the large table in the middle of the space, hidden against the back counters that are made of what appears to be a pretty brown stone.
The leaves are shaped similar to plants back home, but most lean to blue and orange shades.
Lights hang, a shade that looks like glass, over each. A huge arched wooden spice shelf, for lack of a better word, is above the double woodstove-looking thing. Some kind of tiles line the wall there, and wooden counters form a huge L shape along the walls.
I turn and look at Azane. A tiny smile plays on her lips. She’s right, I didn’t catch all this detail yesterday.
“Sit, omega, let me make you something to eat,” she says, eyes roving over me like she hadn’t had me as putty in her hand earlier.
Ink snorts, “Like he’s interested in burnt hyras bread. Let me.”
“Hush, both of you talentless alphas,” Zilas chirps, gently shouldering by us into the kitchen. “All of you sit, I’ll have tea in a moment and breakfast in a wink.” His tone is playful, and I watch the flex of his ass under his loose trousers.
Azane takes my elbow, leading me to the long table. I sit gingerly, given the trainer up my ass and the snug cage around my genitals.
She settles across from me as Inken sits next to me. Her hand lands on my thigh, and I’m glad they let me put on soft trousers. I rub my hand across my chest, a flutter of nervousness winging through me.
“What are your markings, omega?” Inken asks.
I pause. “Oh, my tattoos. I got my half sleeve done... six years ago?”
“This word ‘year’ translates to ‘one trip around the star.’ Does that sound right?” Azane asks.
I grin. “Yes, that’s right.”
“Why the markings?”
I shrug. “It felt right. Like I needed it.” I rub my hand over the black line-work.
“And the facial lenses?” Azane asks gently.
Again, I pause. “Oh, my glasses!” I chuckle. “I need them to see clearly.”
Zilas makes a noise. “Does your planet not have corrective surgery for such things, Tristan?
Ink snorts, “A class C planet for near-intelligent life? Not likely.”
I should be insulted, but really, fuck Earth. I wonder what they’d say if I told them we had to pay for healthcare.
“Would you like it done here, omega?” Azane asks gently.
I shake my head vigorously. “No, thank you. No knives by my eyeballs.”
They all chuckle as Zilas delivers large earthenware cups of tea.
I pull mine to me, curling my hands around it. The warmth is nice, but as I lean in and smell the steam, I frown.
“What is wrong, Tristan?” Zilas asks, concern obvious.
“Oh shit, nothing, sorry, Zilas,” I blurt quickly. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. It’s just, I’m such a coffee addict.” I chuckle, “In fact, I moonlighted as a barista. To make ends meet.”
The three gorgeous aliens—my aliens—gaze at me blankly.
Finally, Azane says, “Most of those words do not translate, omega.”
I laugh, waving my hand, “It’s fine. I was saying I miss a certain drink humans prefer in the morning, and that I actually used to prepare it for money.”
“Ah...” Ink frowns. “Their linen-and-cotton economic system.” She shakes her head, shaggy hair bouncing, “Capitalism.”
Both Zilas and Azane make unimpressed sounds.
I lift my cup to my mouth, blowing gently, “I actually had some packed to bring, but was told it would have to stay. I guess there is some form I can do? Office of Integration?”