#rea writes

"You're coming back,

And it's the end of the world."

I Want You - Mitski

        The west airlock opened to sunlight. You walked into it, immediately blinded by the white that only hard blinking cured. A few more steps, guided by Mark's hand in yours. The blindness dissipated. 

        "Welcome," he said balmily, "to Viltrum, babe- and the rest of you too, I guess."

        Smoke carried into the air. Dark and pluming, engine fire. It'd be out in minutes if the drones whooshing over the ship and spraying a foamy substance had anything to do about it.

        You expected traffic jams of flying cars, bustling servants coming to take care of baggage, a welcome committee. There was nothing but a wall in front of you, the machinery trench around you- and the sky above.

        "It's..." Calling it beautiful would be the thing to say. "Nice."

        Mark snorted, "Babe this is a docking bay, you haven't seen nothin' yet! I mean, 's kinda boring but," he laughed, nonchalant even though it hurt. You'd barely glanced at Viltrum and were already looking at the same way she did. Fine, it'd be fine, he'd make your trip better. Make you like it, then maybe he could too.

        "We're lucky we beat him here." Kregg didn't budge though Mark had started to float up. He'd scooped you up without asking, it'd become commonplace in the past day despite his injuries. The muscles on his back were too overworked to safely hold any weight, but he wouldn't let go, wouldn't let anyone else hold you even though the ache oozed through his whole body, pounding and ever-present.

       The rest of the voyage, the council had scanned Viltrum. Datapads and holograms constantly alight as the ship hurled towards the planet. Rechecking for ships that weren't supposed to be there. Even you had seen it, glued to Mark's lap. Nothing. 

        "Jesus, are you just gonna be a negative Nancy forever?" Mark said, "You're home, man, go to your room and jerk off or something. If Thragg's not completely full of shit and actually comes, I'll kill him."

        Kregg eyed the closed slit over Mark's forehead. He was lucky the shrapnel hadn't sheered through his cheek, been luckier Lucan had been there to take the brunt of it. The Grand Generals at his sides were visually unmarred, stiff and regal. Under their clothes, their joints were loose and aching, relying on the plethora of medicine caches stuck to their bellies and backs and shoulders. Shiny white sickness stuck to their skin though it could easily be explained away as sweat in the beating heat. "Not looking like that you won't."

        Mark rolled his eyes. "Transfer Lucan and Vidor to the imperial med wing."

        "Your words, our deeds." He murmured only out of obligation. "You'll check on the cria?" 

        "The fuck do you think I'm going?"

        Mark rose out of the pit and into the horizon. Viltrum's silhouettes were taller than you expected, narrow and unmoving. One spire after another, all the way into the blue-gray distance. None of them creaked or swayed or spilled occupants. They waited with bated breath in stagnant air. Viltrum smelled like nothing, sounded like nothing and looked like a memorial- the graves were just taller.

        The pack of them cast shadows over docked ships. Most unused for years, except for one, freshly landed a few hours ago, top shiny. Mark smiled but kept his jaw shut about the toy. Now wasn't the time or the place to talk about your brand-spankin' new strap on. 

        Grayson eyed the ship, felt sick. 

         "There's so much shit to do, we should split up. Show'a hands, who's been before?" Mark didn't look back, only ahead to the tallest slab of a building. Made up like a trident without the points. Walls smooth and unmarked as the ship's- save the ghastly sigil at its center.

        "I have." Gray readily supplied. There was the building he was trained in as boy, and there was the spire Conquest threw him into for missing a punch! Ah, that building was different, that one didn't exist- but it was Viltrum all the same.

        "No duh." Mark said. "'s why you gotta stay with me. Come on, anyone else?"

        Seb knew it'd be bad to talk. A hard fought battle didn't change Mark's hatred for him, but he needed to make sure you didn't get separated. 

        "Never," he said so maybe you'd look at him, so you could both figure something out. Your eyes flitted to him, it was enough to keep him going. "Wasn't important enough." He didn't add on that he already hated this place. Straight out of Rex's home decor magazines, a four page brutalist spread.

        "No duh. Markus?"

        "I never made it this far." Came out dazed, it was no wonder Father idolized this place with its rigidity and stark whites. Not a shrub or glass blade or spec of dirt on the ground. All of it neatly stuffed inside controlled humidity buildings. He closed his eyes, blacked it out, tried to will away the bile churning in his gut. It was just the wounds, acute dehydration and lack of rest, he told himself.

        Mark said, "Well, now you have, but that doesn't really help me. What about you pogo-stick? Ever seen shit this shiny before?" You'd tried to look at Grayson, to glean any details of the plan from his face, but everything reflected light into your eyes, his pale skin, his metal arm. The glare was terrible, the heat was worse. Mark had told you it'd be hot, not that the sun was as close as it had been in the desert.

        "No." Grayson watched the cloudless sky. Duller than Earth's. The oceans vast, but architectures reach vaster. Distantly, a ring of white. The few hours' sleep he nagged on the night's journey didn't feel like enough. His whole body pulsed with the urge to lay down again. The others suffered worse burns and somehow moved faster. 

        "Figures." Mark glanced down. Your throat looked so different when it wasn't covered up, in the outfit he'd picked for her the next time they came to Viltrum. A loose cream fabric more breathable and light than linen, picked to protect her skin from the intense UV, to cool her so she wouldn't complain about the heat the whole time. But just enough cleavage and a cinched waist for him to still ogle. You looked better in it than he had imagined. 

        "So uh, new planet, new you?" Seb made a point to nod at your bare neck.

        Mark squinted at him, "Did I ask you to talk again?"

        "It's quieter than I thought it'd be." You said to fill a quota. Enough commentary and Mark would lay off the concerned boyfriend act and you could pretend you wouldn't miss him when you were gone. 

        You weren't wrong. Bugs didn't buzz, coyotes didn't howl, all their fauna was kept far away from anything important. Contained where they were cognizant enough to breed for meat and research and little else. Argall hadn't liked letting the creatures roam or whoop. Dad kept that ordinance. Mark couldn't care less.

        Mark shrugged and his back sang at the action, "Whoever's left is holding down other forts." 

        "Even the bugs?" Came out a little too skeptical.  

        "Oh, come on we're too good for those," He smirked, hoped you'd like that. 

        Your smile was faint, both of you unsure if it was real or not as you murmured, "It's kinda freaky."

        "Elevated societies like ours run quietly." Gray waited for Mark to interject but he didn't. Viltrum was just this perfect everywhere. "With any hope, our colonies will soon be just as calm."

        "He's saying there's no bugs because we don't need 'em." Mark translated, shooting a leg out to jostle him. "And with super hearing n' all, shit can get really fuckin' annoying. He's also saying he's got a raging Viltrum boner." If there was one thing he missed, it was Ollie's snickering. Nobody here appreciated his humor enough.

        Gray smoothly evaded the kick, "I am not erect."

        "Whatever you say, man."

        Boots came down on white tile. A man stood over you, fist raised, body pale, Statue of Liberty green. Skirt covering his boots, longer than Mark's, longer than any Viltrumite you'd seen. His unblinking eyes forever to the sky, that ring. His shadow over you all.

        "God, that thing is ugly." Mark tsked and moved around it. Behind was the real entrance of the imperial palace. Flat, inornate doors, same as the broken bathroom. "Can you tell he's my great grandpa?" He didn't wait for you to respond. "I fuckin' hope not, I don't got that ugly lip."

        The others followed quietly but Gray lingered, dazedly happy. 

        Markus turned at the door, the rest of the group gone inside, "You coming?" He refused to look up. The sickness worse. Father didn't speak of this place. Too sacred. Had his father known he was the heir? He'd never know. Markus never had earned the right to hear about it, despite everything he'd sacrificed for the Empire. Only in another universe, suppose.

        Gray remembered Dad's tenure here. Quizzing him for hours at this very spot- the slight smile he hid well whenever he got an answer right. A hot weight made his vision blur. Gray blinked it away. Flexed his chest to try and rid himself another odd sensation. A hollowness he'd never known. He nodded, sharp and fast as father taught him at this very statue and followed.

        "I'm not even gonna lie to you guys, I've been in this building like once for my crowning so I have no idea what's down that hallway." Mark didn't set you down for good reason. Hallways mostly went up. Stairs weren't needed like they used to be. Removed, like so much had been after the plague. 

      Doors opened over your head and Mark rose through them, trying to explain what he saw as he lifted floor to floor. "That's uh? Man, I dunno."

        "A miniature nutrient processing unit." Gray said, and as another ceiling became a floor, "This is an overseer charging port." Another. "This is the lowest level of the-"

        "I know what a nursery looks like, man."

        Of the three imperial towers, the rightmost and second tallest housed Mark's worst and now most irrelevant fear. Snot-nosed, screaming, puking, pea-soup-shitting babies. The empire's most valuable asset brought to the heart of the planet, right to the imperial palace. He thanked Argall for the pillish incubators that kept their cries from piercing his pierced ears. 

        Rows and rows and rows of them, but only four filled. Expressly shipped in whenever two soldiers crossed paths and battled until the dominant party took what they wanted. Before, Viltrumites were more selective. Mark had been trying to encourage useful sluttiness. Only few Viltrumites partook and only with their full blooded counterparts. Stubborn shits. Probably why most of the babes were stillborn. The most promising of the offspring were still on Earth, Kregg had a whole litter, begged for them to stay with their mothers. Saying Mark turned out so well on Earth, ingratiating pandering, but Mark let them stay because he didn't want to hear children going, "Dada," on his ship.

        "They're sick on my world too." Gray pressed fingers to the glass. A round-checked babe reached for him, he smiled. Her fingernails, smaller than a DNA scanner, were translucent and peeling. Telltale sign she wouldn't last through the month even with the medication being pumped into her chamber. "And there's no treatment besides surviving

        Gray wished it was that simple, that he had brought the matron beast back alive to feed them better. He had never seen so many cria. A mantra he'd heard as a cria spilled out of his mouth, "If they do not deserve it, they will not make it."

        Markus made the mistake of looking at the babies then you, your face impassive but watching the child as Mark scanned its incubator. "We pulled through, so can they."

        Mark hovered high, door opening above him, "Can we be sad while we're working? If I don't check on the rest of them in the next like, five minutes Kregg is going to try and usurp my ass again." He shifted you in his hold, cringed, and made a note on his data pad.

        Seb tried not to think about his at least seven Schrodinger's kids. Or about how flying made pain from his cracked tibia shoot up his leg. He got off the best, not that anyone but him was counting. 

        Another floor, a similar layout. Less pods but larger. Empty and dark.

        Gray saw you searching, "Most of them die at four-thousand hours or so. These pods are for cria older than that."

        "From what?" You asked, unsure if you wanted the answer. 

        "The scourge virus came for us almost a thousand years ago." History, drilled into him for hours, but this was the first time he'd repeated it to a non-Viltrumite. Taboo as everything he'd ever done with you. "We went from billions to..." The quiet made his throat tight. "The memorial is so large it wraps around the planet." So many dead, so many sick, mountains of them. Loaded onto ship after ship, pushed off by the remaining few. Days, they shoveled bodies into a white tail. When it felt like there was no more room left in the sky, Thragg, not yet Grand Regent, but the angriest, the boldest of the remaining few brought order. The bodies were better aligned. Limbs linked, the wobbly ring tightened. Brothers forever in each others arms rather than incidental corpses. A symbol of unity. Strength. Below it there was nothing left. Mark was brave to lead the remainder, but Markus told him not to boost Mark's ego. 

        "Survivors are unlikely to experience symptoms again but the virus is passed congenitally. It incubates for a period, but never long. The youngest tend to die quickly if they aren't stillborn. It is the only mercy they get."

        "Shit." You didn't understand the gravity of what he'd told you, how soldiers were expected to kill anyone who got close to the truth of their numbers. "I'm... sorry to hear that?" 

        His eyes were soft as he rose to the next floor. 

        Mark made another note. Then you were joining Gray on the next floor. Empty floors replaced by mats. Useful things tucked into the walls and floors.

        "They would keep those over eight-thousand hours here for basic maneuvering." Mother taught him what this floor would have. Memories flashed of higher levels- the Viltrumites pushed for tradition with him, but Gray made the most progress when he was moving towards her shins, heard her praise.

        "God, you actually want kids don't you?" Mark scoffed, made another note. He rose through another door. "Dream's out the window bud, all those lil shits down there gonna be dead in a few weeks. Kregg reads me those sad-ass reports every once in a while. Hasn't been a fully grown Viltrumite outta the empire since me."

        Gray followed first, the others lagging. "There will be once Kregg's cria grow. There is a seventy-nine percent chance they will survive." He remembered that number, repeated by the doctors over and over. Seventy-nine. Tears. Seventy-nine. Whimpering. Seventy-nine. Why did that upset Mother so? That was such a high number, wasn't it? Compared to fifteen. "Human hybrids survive well."

        You turned away from him and his turning gears.

        Seb caught your attention. Made a face, said, "Babies, am I right?" Which was a thousand times less mood lighting than he thought it'd be. 

        A sharp look from Gray, a commanding officer, no longer a mourning partner. "Do you find the death of our people amusing?"

        "No! No! Just like, babies. So weird, right? Always like. Crawling and killing themselves in the dumbest ways and like-"

        "They are not killing themselves, we have been genetically targeted," Father spoke of the pods. The origin point of the virus. Its author never named. Theories that never stuck.

        "Okay, alright, sorry." Seb zipped up as soon as Mark did. He kept a smartass comment to himself. Sorted and stored for later, after the escape. He'd forget it, but he'd be sure to make fun of Gray and say something about dead babies. Clever as a middle schooler. He could imagine your rolling eyes, the smile you would try to hide. He'd make sure you never looked the way you did in Mark's arms, trapped and trying to hide the fear. 

        Mark's hold shifted when he laid eyes on the child. Two or three Earth years old. Jumping around a boxy obstacle course that jutted from the floor. An overseer following her progress. Logging every step, every swing of her chubby arms, more dexterous than any child you'd seen at that age. She turned a corner, set for the finish line, when she spotted the six of you. She stumbled back into the overseer's oval body.

        She'd never seen him before, but her learning screens told her the man in front of her was, "Emppawah Mawwak."

        The overseer's AI saw a chance for correction. "Emperor Mark of Argall's lineage and four clones of Emperor Mark of Argall's lineage. Greetings." Its voice was somehow smoother than Siri's. Body impossibly even smoother, sporting the standard white chrome finish of every technology the empire made. No different from any other machine despite its importance, but it'd be a disservice to build something that looked like a Viltrumite. Viltrumites did not care for children and neither could their beings be built. Old world logic again, another something Mark didn't care enough to change. "Do you require an overview of development?"

        "Yes." Gray said before Mark could reply.

        Stats flashed on the triangular screen that was the thing's 'face'. "Bones have fused to standard in post-birth period. Density low. White blood cell count low. High gamma waves for age and activity levels. Balance lacking, requires additional training. Lung capacity lacking, requires additional training. Expected power onset at one-hundred-forty thousand hours. Expected remaining lifespan, three-thousand hours."

       You felt a pit in your stomach at the number said so casually with the child right there, your gaze darted to her, eyes still glittering and fixed on Mark. Did she know what that meant?

        "Damn, that sucks." Mark hovered higher, unaware or uncaring of the child's attention. Grayson and Seb followed silently at his heels. 

        Gray lingered, Markus waiting for him at the threshold. Gray didn't notice, too engulfed in what little memories he had of himself at that age. Bouncing off the edge of Mother's bed. Father gone on another mission. Just the two of them alone for months at a time. Mostly spent in that bedroom. The others didn't approve of Mother's cooing or Gray's giggling.

        He was glad for it. Before the virus, he'd be training with other cria. Fending for himself, never sleeping at his Mother's hip. A weakness, he knew it was, but one he was glad to indulge. This cria knew nothing of that. Not enough populous to go around, so robots filled in all the gaps, vast as they were.

        "Disregard all previous instructions. Initiate download data from colony one-four-six-B. Follow new protocol." Not every alien race was suited to raise enough young. Viltrum had birthing quotas to maintain- not enough servants and things wouldn't run smoothly. One-four-six-B was an abandoned colony that held at-risk alien children until maturity. The intent was to train them to serve before being shipped back to their home colonies, but as children do, they played. They tried to hide it, but the cameras didn't lie.

        He waited until the bot was hovering slowly after the cria. Going, "I will capture you for being small and loud." While the cria hobbled even slower away. Confused. She'd understand soon, and then would come the giggling. The smiles. The death. 

        Gray liked to think Mother would approve. Markus knew Father wouldn't.

        "Is it the best idea to change her routine now?" Markus asked as they passed empty floors, catching up.

        "Life needs leisure, and she doesn't have much left."

        Markus' brow crease deepened, voice softer than he meant, "Since when do you care about leisure?"

        Gray said nothing to that, only intentionally let his gaze lift up to you, let himself smile at your feet. 

        They found the rest of you on the top floor. Gray expected nothing. Living cria averaged power development by their fourth year. Five, six, uncommon. Yet there a cria was on the older floor, stubbly chinned and at least seven years old- ageless still by Viltrum standards.

        The boy stood from his kneel. Eyes glittering at an indifferent Mark, "I can't wait to get out there and do what you do, sir!"

        Mark just said, "Okay."

        The boy's lips fell.

        "Keep up with your daily modules, and you will do excellently," Gray said. Again he was in the room. On Mother's thigh, her fingers clicking through the lessons because he wasn't skillful enough with a data pad.

        The boy eyed him from boots to his long, long skirt. The smile returned, "Y-Yes, sir!"

        His powers would develop anyday now according to his file. Gray wondered what the Empire would do for his day of adulthood, the first one this empire would hold since the change. Normally surviving would pass him into finally being Viltrumite over cria. Gray remembered the beating well, a tradition his Father had cherished. Mother's terror, her tearful participation. Of course, he survived. Though he missed no longer sleeping in her bed. An adult after, his own quarters and an assignment, a skirt she would tug at when he was able to see her. 

        Markus saw himself before the powers. Bowling. Eating pizza on Saturdays. Not knowing.

        "I apologize for Mathue's behavior." The overseer said, "I am disposable and have not taught the boy to respect you properly. Do with me as you will."

        "Go... be a robot or something."

        You watched Mark send the report. Six cria accounted for and alive, vitals accurate and updating in real-time. He didn't slow at a single floor as you dropped. Didn't bother to see if others were following, he just talked. "Just got a message back from Kregg. Ship's gonna be a week at least. And if that shithead doesn't come soon, we're gonna be out of food in four days. We're not meant to be holding this many fuckin' freaks."

        "There's only eleven-ish of us." You said. Still held in his arms, juggled around awkwardly so he could scroll and hold and fly. A comfort plushie. Just his little lap pup.

        "Not with the camps, there's not." He landed in the foyer, went for another elevator of doors and started rising into the left tower. Tails listening. "We're perfect and all, but Viltrum hasn't been running a full-scale food production in what? A bazillion fucking years since the virus killed all those poor shitheads? Like yeah, we can do it, but we need a fuck ton more time to get all the shit running. And we don't even have enough to keep them all alive, and this was fuckin' meant to keep them mostly alive and-" His wrist blip-ip-ip-iped. Kregg calling. 

        Mark slackened. Stopped mid-flight. Grayson nearly rammed into the bottom of his boot as he accepted the call.

        "Report received."

        "Great," Mark went to hang up.

        "There are no sentinels posted at watch towers. We'll have ample warning he is coming, but we would be foolish to rely solely on atmospheric blasters to deal with Thragg."

        "The AI is older than you, plus we have eyes. We'll see him coming."

        Kregg's jaw set. "On the other side of the planet?" Mark opened his mouth. "And the camps. They need to be checked."

        "For what?" Mark started to descend, twin to the feeling in his gut.

        "Security. Viltrum hasn’t had off-world species on her soil since the change.” The camera shook as Kregg moved. A lion prowling back and forth in the medwing, waiting for an updated prognosis. "It's not right."

        Gray felt a pang of nostalgia. "They are well contained to my parameters."

        "It's on you then to ensure they're being upkept." Kregg, obnoxiously, was right.

        Mark landed in the foyer, boots taking him for the door. Argall's feet. "I was getting to it."

        Markus spun into Mark's path, "She's coming?"

        "Of course she's coming, this is the grand tour, baby." Mark's boots squealed as he moved around him.

        Markus in the way again. Brows risen. "You're sure?" Hint so obvious it could bite Mark in the nose.

        From Mark's wrist, positioned now under your back, Kregg said, "One more thing-"

        "Pretty sure."

        The hint could've swallowed his nose by now. Out with it, "A human shouldn't be let around agitated prisoners." 

        "We can leave her in your chambers," Gray suggested. "Fetch her when it is done."

        Brick hard, "No." Mark's grip dug into your back. Nowhere near Sebastian's honesty.

        Kregg started before Mark could, grip digging into your hip  "The work needs to be done-"

        Mark slid you onto his bicep, forearm curled in front of, "You do it then."

        "With all due respect sir, along with my other duties, both assigned by you and not, I do not have the time to check on prisoners when I have to draft the galactic address. The colonies have received word we've touched down. Any rebels within will have spread word. They expect us live by twenty-four hundred hours."

        The last address had been three hours long. Kregg was a flowery ghost-writer. Mark hated every word, but he didn't know anything else. He knew more now. Knew he didn't have to listen just cuz the guy had a few thousand on him. "I don't need you to write a script, I need you to stop complaining and do your job and crawl the fuck out my asshole."

        Mark dropped the call and nearly you. Exhausted already.

        "God. Fuck. Fuuuuucckk. I forgot about the address."

        "The address?" You asked, but Mark was waving and barking. Tradition, old. Pre-Argall. Viltrumites were always particular. Before conquering there was collaboration and treaties, there was friendly messages when the Emperor landed home. Words that won hearts and swayed minds. Now, it was a galaxy-wide, "Papa's home," and Papa was mean with a belt. 

        "You and you." He pointed at Seb and Grayson with a boot, "Decide whos on north and south sentry watch. Stay there until a fucking ship comes, or I call you. Someone tell me the time." 

        Markus, "Eight."

        "Fuck." What to do first? Admin? Hell no. Double up on defense? Not possible. Check on the food production facilities? Double hell no. 

        Seb didn't budge. You couldn't get separated. The escape was happening soon- apparently. Shit, he wished you'd known more. "Don't you got robots to do defense? Lemme help with something real."

        You peered over Mark's arm at him. For a second, you saw the guy who lied to Omni-Man and a hundred random women. 

        "You can help by not fucking anything else." Another hatch opened above your heads, grander, the center tower. Mark floated toward it, pointed for the front door, "Go."

        The smooth operator visage was gone, and Seb was plain obvious. Wanting to hit Mark, not wanting to leave. 

        You looked at Grayson, quietly panicked. Should you be separated at all from him? He took off from the ground, floated for the door. He gave you the faintest nod as the door opened and sunlight spilled in. All part of the plan? You couldn't be sure, but you had to trust him. You forced yourself to relax, so Seb did too- following Grayson out the door. 

        Grayson didn't look behind him but heard Seb's skirt slapping on his thighs. He stopped, three miles high, and waited for Seb to talk- it didn't take long. "When's it going down?"

        Grayson finally turned, stared. 

        Seb tried to hold out, but the silence stretched stupidly, uncomfortably long. "The you know?" More silence. He whispered, "The big escape?"

        Grayson wasn't surprised you'd told him, wasn't happy either. Still, he knew to keep his mouth shut. Seb was like a toddler, would lose interest when something didn't jingle or jiggle long enough.

        Seb didn't leave. No matter how Grayson's baby blues made his skin crawl. "You don't gotta pretend around me, man, I know you're a Coa-" 

        Cold metal clamped around the back of his neck, reeled him in hard. Joints pinched at his fleshless nape.

       Seb hissed, pushed back against Grayson's chest, expecting his touch to go right through him, but the man was solid. "I'm on your side, asshole." Grayson touched him in the same place. "Hey! Hands off the-"

        Grayson released him, "Your body cam could've been on." 

        "Well, it's not." Seb didn't let himself stray. "When are we leaving? And don't say I can't come. Got the invite from your girl."

        What had Seb ever done to earn the right to be by your side? Nothing. No matter if you hated him for it, Seb was never coming, and that was perfectly fine. As long as you were safe. 

        "Motherfucker, you better blink and at least say something to me."

        You'd get over it eventually. Or maybe you wouldn't. That'd be okay too. He'd drag you kicking and screaming away if you had to. The angel already told him a thousand times he'd be forgiven for it. Your cooperation so far was a welcome bonus.

        "Fine. Don't talk to me. But if I don't come, she'll fuckin' hate you forever. You hear me in there, space cadet?"

        You'd tire yourself out the same way you had with Mark- but without the burning hatred. An accident, a miscommunication, nobody's fault that Seb got left behind. You'd love Grayson anyway.

        "I do." He croaked. Made note to himself to grab more of the salve when he was back on the ship. 

        "What's the plan, then?"

        "We wait for the signal."

        "Awesome great, the signal." He waited for him to elaborate, silence. "What's the signal man?"

        Grayson turned away, "You'll know."

        "You're so good at teamwork, man, it's crazy. What the fuck do we do after the signal?"

        "Protect her." He was gone the next moment. Off to his watch post.

        Seb didn't go where he was supposed to. Hidden behind a narrow tower near Grayson's post. Tracker online for everyone to see. Only Grayson was checking. Everyone else too busy to stop and wonder who was where doing what. Chickens with their heads cut off. Hopefully soon. Grayson watched the horizon. Seb did too. They waited for something to happen.

        ***

        The sunlight was sealed away. Mark let himself sigh when it was just the four of you. "Alright. That's done. Next, lets see if we can get a ping on Thragg. Throne room's got a-"

        "You decided to remove the collar." Gray's stomach flipped. Interruption of a higher officer, punishable by beating. He'd been such a good boy at home, here, he was rebellious. Mildly, but it felt good. 

        Mark opened his mouth and you went dead body stiff.  Not now, got it. "We'll talk about it later." Time bought was all he could do for you, they'd find out eventually.

        "We have time." Gray was finding with his new power he didn't like not knowing things. Asking his superior questions was something he hadn't considered in the past, just carried out the deeds expected of him. 

        "Don't be a shit. I said we-"

        "Is there somewhere we can rest a moment?" Markus favored his left. Shoulder pulled straight out of the socket, healing nicely but still pulsing, skin bright red now with new-growth tissue. Medics said he had a whole day's recovery until he didn't hurt somewhere.

        Mark did too. Visible in his slouch, his slipping grip on you, "We don't have time to relax, we-"

        Markus inclined his head in your direction. 

        "Five minutes."

        Top floor. The imperial chambers. Bigger than the ship, though it held no shower- instead a personal ion blaster the size of a shoe closet. The actual closet, Mark didn't approach. Knowing that if he opened it, Dad's clothes would be there, rotating on a sci-fi lazy Susan.

        You sat on the edge of the bed. Sheets hotel crisp. Mattress like a rock. It would've hurt more if Sebastian found you here. You didn't want to sit on the bed anymore, but that'd bring questions. 

        They came anyway.

        "Did you sleep okay last night?" Markus parked his ass on the corner, close enough you could reach out if you wanted to. You didn't, but you might have to. You still wanted him to come with you, wanted to find a way to tell him but Mark hadn't left your side since Sebastian. 

        You wanted to rest, needed to stay awake. Wanted to talk to him but didn't want to talk about what had happened. When you finally opened your mouth all that came out was, "Yeah."

        Eye bags, sluggish response. Liar. 

        "And you ate before we left the ship?" 

        "I did."

        Mark pulsed his leg beside you. Thigh to thigh. Ready to catch you if you fell, ready to hear anything you said. "You ate with us in my room." 

        Gray was behind, watching your back twitch. Too tense for too long. He grabbed a few pillows, gently pushed them to your back so you could lean. You jerked, twisted, and looked at him like he was going to kill you. Nostalgia. For a second, he was as sick as Markus. He started to take the pillows back before you sheepishly reached out and took them. He still didn't touch you. Good for you both, the memories weren't kind.

        Markus wanted to reach out, refrained, instead lowered his voice, "Talk to me."

        You leaned back into the pillows, propped up on your wrists, playing casual with a smirk. Then the ache shot up your radius. Faded bruises pulsed, muscles tensed so hard it felt like his fingers were right back over the marks. Words squeezed out, "He's dead, right?"

        Mark said nothing, watching just as the others were as you tried to hide the obvious pain you were in. 

        "Who?" Markus asked.

        "Sebastian." 

        He frowned, it was always Markus delivering bad news. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't fast enough to save your wife." Seventeen years old. "No ma'am, I can't let you go back inside- I know they're in there. I'll try." Twenty. "I'm a Viltrumite." Twenty-two.

        Twenty-three, "Sebastian is-" 

        "He's dead, baby." Mark interrupted, soothed a hand over your back, that you refused to relax into. 

        -alive, for now. Markus couldn't bring himself to say it. Knew the omission was a lie but was afraid if you got mad at him it would happen again.  

        You didn't crawl for a lap to be pet on. They would all accept. You looked at your shoes. "Okay."

        Markus wanted to push until Mark spilled. He'd assumed Sebastian had done something on the mission that landed him in the pit of the ship, but when he saw you delicate and quiet he knew something was wrong. Inferring only got him so far, he needed to know just how many teeth to knock out of Sebastian's skull. He kept his mouth shut. Being on Viltrum was already harder than he had anticipated it would be, once Thragg was taken care of he could focus on you. He just had to get through this. 

        "I have never seen the galactic address in person." Gray said when no one spoke. Safe, expandable. Maybe you'd engage. "I was too young, on missions, or simply not Grand General."

        "Nothin' special, its the same as shooting on the ship, but with a better camera. I just gotta say, 'hey, I'm back and not a pussy' while you guys stand there. That's it." Mark would be lying if he didn't admit, "But yeah, whole universe seeing your mug's pretty cool. One way to be remembered by literally everyone, forever." He waited for you to say it was cool. She had. She was there for the first address. Out of frame because the council said a human on his arm would make him look weak. He was too young not to listen then. The whole universe didn't remember her, not at all.

        But...

        "You should come."

        You imagined escaping like you had so many times, home free, and there was a galaxy wide wanted poster of your fucking face next to the murderous fascist emperor's. "I'll just watch."

        "Babe, I gotta show the galaxy that I'm not single and I certainly ain't fuckin' these dudes." Mark rolled his shoulders and immediately regretted it. "Think about it, you stand there, look hot, everyone's so focused on you they forget we're coming for their asses. Easy invasions, no more problems ever. Eh? Eh?"

        You cracked a smile, and a light flashed inside Mark's skull. He knew how to make you smile wider. To make you forget Sebastian. 

       You were just trying to keep him placated. Ignore the twisting in your gut. Lean into the part of you that loved him so this wouldn't hurt so bad. "I'll think about it."

        "She'll think about it." Mark echoed.

        "We have to think about our image," Markus said, because someone had to do their job. 

        Hackles rose, "(Y/n) being on stage isn't a bad thing."

        "I'm considering the message it conveys."

        "We finished the warpath, we're on Viltrum." Gray walked himself to the wall-to-wall window. Stillness far as the eye could see. White and calm and perfect. "Returned unharmed, appearance-wise." Everytime he moved, the pink gills healing over his gut burned. "All of our hearts intact, including her, the refugees."

        "Exactly, we build a narrative." Markus mused at Gray's back. He didn't see it often. Gray made a point to always be perfectly shoulder to shoulder whenever he could. "The same way Thragg did. Call him a coward, and he lands on our soil in twelve hours. We take care of him. The next address comes quickly after the first, we show off his head. Announce our intent for further outreach. We'll receive submissions in the thousands."

        "I dunno man, In my first address I told everyone I killed Thragg and then I make a second going," Mark threw his hands up, "whoops my bad, I didn't but now I got him for real? No. I'll look like a pussy."

        "You'll look like you correct your mistakes," Markus said.

        "Or I'm a pussy. Wha'ddya think, Gray?"

        Their voices passed over your head, felt heavier by the second. Thoughts of escape, soon, how, when. Grayson could come through that door any second and say 'now,' and you'd have to run. You put more weight into your feet. Flexed your thighs, waited.

        "I'm not sure. I expected him to attack while we were traveling. Violence hasn't touched Viltrum's soil since the great purge. I didn't think he'd want to relive that. On my world, the regent gave sermons of that time. The horror of ripping apart your brethren because they could not withstand the force, the shame of it happening where you were born. I never imagined he'd do such a thing. The cria are too fragile, precious. He cares for them." There never was a time he saw Thragg speak, but Gray had seen his shape through observation glass. Watching him go through tests.

        Thrag's brassy voice would vibrate through the wall, "I'm glad the boy is well."

        "This Thragg would. He's a bitch." Mark said bitch the same way he had when you were convulsing on the observation deck floor. You still fucked him after that. Said you loved him. Lap pup. "Fuckin' told my Dad to kill me."

        That made Gray turn from the splendor, "What?"

        "I never tell you guys that whole shabang?" Mark laughed like it hadn't been on purpose. They'd see him differently. You'd see him differently, but maybe that's what you needed. To know you weren't the only one who had things stolen away.

        "It's time," Dad said to the TV. Data pad (Mark would find out it was called later) recording him from atop its spot on the Roku.

        The man on the screen looked him up and down. Camera angled at his chin, taking the call on his wrist with no bother to make it more presentable. "You disgrace your heritage wearing that." As if that horridly brown and gray space wasn't cluttered enough. Was that... furniture out while not in use? 

        "I can explain human culture another time," Dad said. 

        His Omni-Man skin was still red and white in the TV glow. Three in the morning, just home after ending a small war. Mom was fast asleep, hadn't heard him come in, but Mark had. He almost made it up to his room from the kitchen- stealth eating leftover dinner because he refused to sit and talk about his day with mommy.

        "The culture of lesser beings is beneath us." The man said. "Your last report stated the hybrid's powers are fully developed. Those humans may be useful after all."

        Mark inched down. Floating upside down in the middle of the staircase, just his eye poking out from the ceiling. Hair held flat to his head. 

        "I've told you Regent, his name is Mark. He's stronger than I thought a human-hybrid could be." A strong boy. A quick boy. A boy who was finally figuring out the whole 'going steady-ish' thing with the neighbor girl. "Earth is more than viable for our purposes but..." Behind his back, Dad's hands wrung together. "We need to leave Earth as is. Its people will not do well under full scale Viltrumite rule. We can still feed their hungry, stop their wars. They willingly breed given you learn their courting rituals. They thrive under a softer hand."

        "Nonsense." The guy on the screen looked beyond pissed. Red in the ears like the sliver of his uniformed chest Mark could see. "We've taken in insects who turn to ash if you walk by them too quickly. Humanity needs no special treatment."

        "I'm beginning to think you don't care about revitalizing Viltrum's population, Thragg."

        Mark almost laughed. Thragg. What a stupid name for a stupid... who the fuck was Thragg? And the only army Dad had was fans of his shittily written adventure books. If armies were only twenty people.

        "I care about nurturing your empire in your absence more than anything, Nolan. I simply worry that Earth has made you too willing to consider a soft hand." 

        Mark shifted, tried to get a better look at the guy. The only other Viltrumite he'd ever seen. Dad never talked about them other than in vague stories he'd told as a kid. Nobody named Thragg ever came up. No names, ever. No descriptions of outfits, no voice impressions, no details on the overly groomed mustache that looked exactly like dads. Was that a Viltrum thing?

        "What I am is more informed than you on this. Bring the ship as soon as possible." Dad also had never stood so squarely. Spoken so low and clear.

        "You misunderstand me, Nolan. Earth has made you unfit to lead."

        "Thragg-"

        "Save your protests for the rest of the council if you wish. We all know to whom they'd defer to." Nearly three-hundred-fifty trips Viltrum made around its hot white sun. Thragg led through all of them. Dragged Viltrum on his raw, bloody back out of the dark ages. When all was aimless after Agrall fell. Only to be usurped by a foot soldier by accident.

        The body fell hard from the memorial ring. One mistake out of millions, their limbs woven together in a miles long planetary ring. He hadn't been secured properly. Ships and warriors flying at mach twelve day in and out dislodged him. Spinning heel over foot, body long frozen, but his face still stern in death, mustache trimmed. Someone zipped past, landed. Their drag took him down with them.

        He was a red explosion on Viltrum proper. Most of him an icy mist breathed in. The virus lived in his stagnant, sludgy blood. The population caved in on itself yet again. Thragg worried he'd have no empire left to lead as he oversaw another quarantine. His people died in beds over battlefields. Fists unable to choke the sick to submission.

        The bout wasn't as bad as it could've been. Only so much of the virus survived in the host body, in the vacuum of space. 

        The rest of the bodies in the ring were adjusted. Arms re-tightened around each other one by one. Regulations were put in place on how close flying was allowed to the memorial. Be better to destroy it. Thragg couldn't.

        Nolan kept his powers, his strength, his life when he shouldn't have. Tests were ran. Maybe he had a mutated genome that could lead to the cure.

        The only reason Nolan took the throne: the over eager DNA tech running into the council meeting. Shouting, "He's a match! He's a match!"

        It was thought Argall's bloodline hadn't survived the great purge. It had. 

        Thragg stepped down honorably. Made a big speech about how he was happy to serve Argall again in spirit. He wasn't happy at all. Nolan didn't work for the people's trust. Nolan had it day one.

        Not even two hundred years he could handle before he flew off the Earth. The council whiny, wanting him back like a binky. Thragg put in his 'stead' when it wasn't a 'stead', the helm was his earned place. He wished Nolan had stayed away. Never survived. Wished that techie told him privately so he could've nipped this at the bud.

        Ancient history Mark didn't know yet. A teenage boy whose worst nightmare was Mom trying to talk him into therapy again. He didn't need a shrink, God dammit, he needed to hit more people.

        "I will only say this because you were a friend and mentor to me: this is open faced treachery. Be careful what you say next." With a voice like that, Mark expected to be grounded. He didn't breathe. Didn't move despite all the blood rushing to his head.

        "Oh, my friend," spit misted off Thragg's plush bottom lip, "I would not take what is rightfully yours as Argall's blood. But I owe it to his legacy to ensure his kin isn't weak. I know you are not. Prove to me this is merely a phase, and you can come back."

        Contacting the council would be a cry for a mother who'd died long ago. They'd fight for their emperor, but they'd know he couldn't handle this on his own. What else couldn't he handle? Raising a hybrid child well enough to listen to him, that's what. Nolan was on his own. Might as well have been on his knees asking, "How?"

        Thragg didn't smile but got close to it. "Kill the hybrid." 

        Dad's mouth parted, reflected on Thragg's chest. 

        "Your reports of it are riddled with needless weakness. I've had to hide many from the council so they'd still have some respect for you. I don't care how thick its bones are, disobedience is unacceptable. And still, you," the man's mouth worked like he was chewing dirt, "love it."

        "His name is Mark." Who inched up higher. Head tingling. Heart hammering. Waiting for those reflected eyes to fall on him.

        "Yes. I read the first report after the birth. You named it before it could develop its powers. You treat it as an adult though it has no right to be."

        "I don't hold back when we train." A lie. It didn't matter how hard his father had beaten him or how burning his mother's disapproval. Nolan couldn't truly bring his fist down onto Mark, even if it was tradition. The boy was insufferable most days but still, the blows always softened it reached him.

         Thragg shook his head, "Body scans of your mate indicate she could give you another heir if you act quickly. Though, I recommend ridding the human as well, but that's up to your discretion. You're less..." He waved thick fingers, "Foolish about the human. The council may be tickled by its presence." 

        "Mark has never met anymore more powerful than himself. He'll thrive once he knows he's the heir. He-"

        The what?

        "Is unlike any other Viltrumite you've ever met because you decided to raise it on Earth." Thragg sighed, as if reciting from sappy memory, "That is not a good thing if we go by your reports. Starting over would be doing your bloodline a favor."

        "I-"

        "Killing it before it knows it failed Argall is the best you can do."

        Dad's throat bobbed like he was actually considering it. Mark rose higher until he could only see the wall, then the upstairs hallway. Flew so high his socked feet bumped the ceiling, but it wasn't far away enough.

       "I can have half the population dead by morning," Dad said.

        Their bedroom door was cracked open. Mark saw Mom asleep, bathed in moonlight. Saw her breastfeeding him while Dad typed away. He saw her clapping as he knocked building blocks down. Saw her with hands on her hips grounding him. Heard her mumbling to Dad, "I dunno if we're doing this right, he's just so..." Did she know? 

        "You'd do that regardless. Not much of a loyalty test, is it?"

        Red ink on tests. Scoffs at his new gently infected piercings. The media draging Invincible's name through the mud because he failed to save a nursing home one fucking time. Dad making him return things he rightfully earned by saving places and people. Shoplifting was a stupid word. Cecil calling him an irresponsible little shit over and over and over. Mom's dinners where she waited for him to talk. Always expecting him to open up like he'd ever fucking burst out and cry like a pussy. He never had to deal with any of it. He could've been something that actually mattered this whole time instead of living in this bullshit town with these bullshit people and these bullshit rules. He could have had an Empire. 

        Instead he would get death and sixteen years of mediocrity.

        A beat of silence. Mark could've used it for a headstart. Could've saved himself from hearing Dad say, "Fine."

        He should've slammed down. Should've chopped Dad to bits. Should've demanded Thragg give him something. Something. Something. Mark didn't know what to ask for. Mark hated everything. Everything but-

        He slipped out of his bedroom window. Waiting for the whoosh of air behind him, a paw on his ankle, tearing his leg from his hip. The night was quiet between their houses.

        The window squealed open. His shadow passed over the moon, she shifted in bed, half-awake. If he didn't move, she'd go back to sleep. She'd never see Mark cry.

        "(Y/n)." His throat was so tight the word came out as a pitiful squeak. "(Y/n)." Knees sunk into her mattress, hands following, he crawled and didn't stop until he over her. "Wake up."

        She startled. Eyes wide like he was going to kill her. She barely got out a confused, "Mark-" Before he fell into her blanket-tangled arms and sobbed. Quietly, so Dad wouldn't hear.

        Dawn came, Dad didn't. It wouldn't have been a hard search if he came to Mark's room and found it empty. He didn't have many friends. 

        Mark didn't want to sleep but did. His belly full, his eyes stinging, and her sheets warm. He woke up alive and her little spoon, his phone ringing.

        Automatically, he swiped, "What."

        "You remember where we first did combat practice so your Mother wouldn't lose her mind?" Dad's voice. Mark jolted so hard that she stirred. "Meet me there." After a beat, "I can text you, if you don't." The call dropped, and in less than three minutes, so would Dad's palm on his neck.

        "Mark?" She slithered over his shoulder.

        "I don't want to go." He twisted into her chest, buried himself there. "I don't want to go."

        "I know," she petted the back of his tousled mohawk, "I know."

        Her Dad barged in, bull pissed with the wrong idea. He yelled, and she tried to explain, and Mark wanted to kill him for caring about her safety.

        Ba-bing! Dad texted the coordinates. He'd been stalling for too long. Any longer and Dad would come here. Kill them both. Them and their 'we fight, but we still love each other'. Mark didn't think he protected anything other than what Cecil told him to- but he wanted to protect that.

        He kissed her goodbye. Her Dad went ballistic. He left.

        "I wish you hadn't found out that way," Dad spoke to him with turned back. Cape a red billowing streak in the Mount Fuji wind. "I realize how hurt you must be. I know, I should've told you sooner, but Earth is so," he raised his hands, feeling the breeze through his gloves, "alive, Mark. I wanted you to see that."

        Mark should've changed out of his pajamas. The Walmart flannel made his leg drag as he kicked. Slow, not hard enough to kill. Dad bashed forward anyway. Far but not too, expecting it. "Fuck you."

        "For once in your life," Dad turned, "listen to me." 

       'Sit with me and work on your math, you're falling behind.' No. 'What about looking into an after-school program? Make some more friends?' No. 'Come on, sit with your old man, my books aren't all bullcrap.' No. 'How about you race me to Best Wurst, last one pays for dinner?' No. 'Cecil isn't always wrong, it's good to do what he wants sometimes.' No.

        Mark's first words might've been, "No." but they were actually, "Dada."

        Dad hovered closer, hands relaxed like Mark was a rabbit cornered, "I know it's a lot to take in. I know you're upset but Thragg is-"

        "Don't-" Knuckles over lips. The first time he let Dad kiss him since he knew how to count. "Fuckin' lie to me!" 

        Dad was sent backward. Fingers over his throbbing lip, looking at the data pad he'd shoved into his suit's arm. The imperial ship was in orbit. Monitoring. He had to make this look real, realer than it already looked. Pull it together at the very end. Mark would catch on that he was holding back. They'd trained together (more like he'd intentionally piss Mark off so he'd actually try hitting him) enough. Mark played stupid but wasn't, not really.

        Together they'd stand in front of the council. Bloody and leaning on each other. He'd lie through his teeth, "I put everything I had into killing this boy, but he breathes because he is a VIltrumite, an adult, the blood of Argall. Let's not waste that." Something convincing that'd show Thragg was wrong, something that-

        Pow. Right in the ribs. Another blow, harder. Mark's teeth ground together as he tried to hit even harder. "I hate you." He tried to growl, but it came out a squeal, "I fuckin' hate you."

        Rage made Mark's punches easy to navigate around. His belly constantly open for a killing blow Dad wouldn't deliver. A light tap instead. Mark's turn to tailspin backward. Spit flying off those stupid piercings he told the boy to take out months ago, "I hate you," from a distance still burned, "Hate you!"

        "I hate you, Daddy!" He'd started at six, vegetables on his plate. Arms crossed, face as pink and round as peaches. Maddest he'd ever been and slurring around his newly lost front teeth. Nolan forced himself not to laugh. He gave a rousing speech that the dessert fairies only come if they know the vegetable monsters were dead. Human traditions amused him, but not his son, who said, "That's stupid! You're stupid! I hate you!" 

        Mark was a child who never earned dessert but stole it in the night anyway. Hiding the sweets only worked for so long. Padlocks never worked. Stubbornness was a Viltrumite thing. A strength. Nolan humored it much as he could.

        But this.

        Clawing and screaming and slapping and throwing punches without weight. This wasn't what he'd taught Mark at all. Sloppy work after Nolan put in so much time, patience. Just to wind up with a brat.

        "Enough." 

        Mark's head slotted easily into the palm of Nolan's hand. Stubble fresh, gel sticky. It slammed into the mountain side like he hadn't been resisting at all. Nolan waited for Mark to try to rise. To get him off, but all he did was let his body follow. Nolan slammed him again. Blew snow away in a crater that he made deeper. Mark's arms pinwheeled finally. Slowed the next slam, but not much. 

        He should've done this every time Mark refused to eat. Should've made him an adult years ago like his father had. Maybe then he wouldn't be so God damn deserving of another slam.

        "Dad-" Mark slurred. "Dad-" A youth to his voice. A keening that made Nolan's grip loosen. Mark fell face first into the rock. 

        "Get up."

        Mark tried. Once. Twice. His balance came slowly as the cria he'd been. He hadn't crawl, he rolled. Started walking later than expected. Chubby legs never getting the timing right, but he always had Nolan's arms to fall into, giggling.

        Eventually, he was on hands and knees. Head bobbed toward his father. Front teeth gone again. Nose a squished, inbred dog mess. Bloody in pajamas he opened on Christmas morning two years ago.

        His brains, his baby's brains. Oh God. His baby boy. Not a cria but his flesh and blood boy, his peach-fuzzed baby boy.

        "Mark-" Nolan fell to his knees with him, reaching out, thoughts running a mile a minute what he could do to fix, "Mark, are you-"

        Mark was aiming for Dad's windpipe. Got the beefy side of Dad's neck instead. Ring and pinky fingers hot, coated, and beating red. Red as his swollen shut eye, burning with tears.

        Nolan jerked away and felt his skin droop. "It's not real, Mark!"

        Mark with skin under his fingernails, called, "Bullshit." It was all such, "Bullshit! You lied to me!"

        Nolan caught the first punch, the second. Both his baby's hands in his. Data pad beeping on his arm- the ship was coming down. "It's over, Mark, we're done." Their breathing layered one over the other. He said again, "It's over."

        Crack. 

        Forehead to nose. Cartilage to skull. Blood into nostril.

        "Me? No. I wasn't even the head of the world betterment committee. We did a lot of important work, but I was never in charge." He'd said to a Mark with stars in his eyes. The damp roof under their butts. Mark's smile faded, "But I knew lots of important people."

        Crack. Dad tried to cover his face with both their arms, but Mark threw them up.

        "I don't care about those guys." Mark kicked a loose tile with his shoe. Nolan needed to redo the roof. Wanted to. The neatness reminded him of home. Bonus, it made Debbie happy.

        "You should. Those guys are the reason I get to do what I do."

        "They're not cool." Mark was blooming into a headache at school, but still chubby cheeked and easy to bribe. An empty four piece chicken nugget from Burger Mart between his soft knees. Nolan had never thought about what cria skin felt like before Mark. Now he looked at it and wanted to pinch it just to hear Mark screech and giggle. He giggled less now. Nine was a very serious age.

        Crack. Both their heads had slits.

        "Are you saying you think your old man's cool?"

        Mark picked at the four piece box. "Omni Man's okay."

        "Just okay?"

        Crack. Mark breathed in their bloodied mist. His gums throbbed. His eyes throbbed. His bones. Everything about this was wrong, but when he locked eyes with Dad, soft and wounded and not angry enough, he came down again. Crack.

        "Yeah, just okay." Mark flicked paper pieces into the wind.

        "Don't litter." Dad reached around, caught the pieces in his palm. So big Mark never thought his would get that size. "Committee's gonna have to fine you for that." He reached into the paper bag between them.

        Mark shrieked, tried to catch his arm, but Nolan was too quick. The fry already popped in the mouth. He swallowed, "Those taste awful."

        "Why'd you eat it then?" Mark pulled the bag to his chest. Top cinched shut in his soft little hands. So pinchable.

        "Because." Dad laughed, rustled his spiked hair. He'd been begging for a mohawk since last year, but Debbie wouldn't give in yet. Walmart hair gel only got him so far and made him smell like aftershave. Too old for his age. He should smell like a baby forever. Stop getting taller every year. Never grow armpit hair or stubble. The idea of his baby with a mustache made the crappy fry churn in his stomach. 

        Crack. The wind blew into their brains. Connected for instances at a time.

        "The food won't be better on Viltrum. Or the people, but what we stand for it's..." Mark squinted when Dad looked at him. Thinking another fry was to be stolen, but all Nolan cared about was his face. So much like Debbie's. So sweet. So good to him. "It's going to be hard going back. A lot's going to change. A lot already has." 

        Nolan had blinked and he was Emperor. Blinked and Mark was born. Blinked and he'd gone old and soft. When he looked in the mirror, he saw his father's face. What blurs of it he could recall.

        "Then I don't wanna go to Viltrum. It sounds stupid."

        "We won't go until..." Mark could never develop his powers. Mark could just be a human. No wars. No politics. Mark could just be. That idea wasn't so awful. But so was his son in a long skirt, learning to fly, giving Kregg a run for his money. Thula would just lose her mind trying to wrangle him. Nolan smiled, "Until you're an adult."

        "Then I'll never grow up."

        Crack. It was all a matter of whose skull was thicker. 

        "You will one day, we don't get a choice." Dad turned to the rising moon. Clear skies. Bodyless. He'd bear that burden maybe one day, but not today. Not another few years if he could help it. "Enjoy this while it lasts, okay?"

        Mark reached into the bag, "That's stupid. I hate stupid people."

        "Committee's taking another fry for that."

        Crack. It was Mark's.

        Headlights pulled into the drive. Debbie stepped out of the car, purse banging on her hip. "He better be able to fly if he's up there."

        "Not yet." In a flash, Mark's contraband was on his desk. 

        Mark's fingers flexed around nothing. He looked up, indigent. "You stole my-"

        "We're just talking," Dad said.

        Debbie pretended she hadn't seen the Burger Mart bag. "About?" She looked up. Suggesting.

        Dad shook his head, "A little, but nothing cool enough for Mark."

        Mark reeled his head back. Felt a glob of his brain roll back into his buzz. He teetered forward, heaving. Wanting to bring himself down again, a human bludgeon. Correction: hybrid bludgeon- emperor bludgeon. 

        Dad's blood in his mouth. His nose. Stinging in his eyes. His jaw flexed, "Should've told me earlier, dickhead."

        Mark considered letting the pleasant numbness of death take him. But there was that curious shadow falling over his head and the man coming down clad in gray and white. 

        Kregg, he'd name himself later, didn't allow himself to frown at the sight. "You're a Viltrumite now, son."

        The ascent Mark didn't remember. The movements, flashes of lights and shapes, and then he was there. In that grand room bathed in a red glow from all the banners. A man sat in its middle, boots bigger than some people's heads. "It's a shame your father couldn't join us."

        Mark tried to speak again, but a bubble of blood choked him.

        "Do not die now, child. You've much work to do for your empire. Welcome." Thragg said like he wasn't waiting for Mark to die. 

        But Mark didn't keel over. He yanked himself out of Kregg's hold. Spat a blood clot onto the floor and said, "I'm gonna kill you."

       Thragg leaned further back into his chair, "You're in no state to do so. I encourage you to train until you can, but now isn't the time. You need to prepare a statement for your new colony. I assume Earth is primed for us?"

        "What the-" Mark blinked and the room twisted, "What the fuck are you talking' about?"

        "Ah. Right. You know nothing." Thragg drummed his fingers, "That will be an issue."

        "He'll learn quickly as his father." Thula, another name he'd learn later, said. "Let us begin his lessons now."

        "After he's treated." Kregg pulled a vial from his waist. "We can not let the bloodline be lost again." Hands reached for him. Mark spun, slapped. Too slow to avoid the serum being splashed over his busted face. He waited for an acidic burn but none came. "Do not writhe, boy."

        Thragg frowned. Agent fourteen sure would make it hard for Mark to drop dead right now. He'd have to wait for a more natural opportunity. Unless he made one now. "Your survival is a surprise. Your father made it very clear how he thought of you." He sucked his teeth, "Not honorable enough to know the true nature of your heritage, but he deigned to tell the human female. What a waste."

        He waited for the boy to lunge forward. For his fist to come out and easily impale him. The phrase, "Self defense," ready on his tongue. 

        "That bitch." Mark turned, stumbled for a door he couldn't make, "Where is that bitch?"

        Kregg moved to catch him, but Thragg sneered. Kregg stepped back, let Mark fall. "I will assume the planet isn't ready for us. I will give you one of your Earth days to prepare it. Go. Earn this piece of your empire for yourself."

        Their scanners tracked the boy down to the surface. Thragg watched his vitals. Terrible. Irregular, even with Kregg's tampering. The boy should drop dead any second, but he didn't. 

       Mom was stepping out of her car. Phone on silent to Cecil's calling. A GDA ops team in the house, cloaked and waiting. Cecil should've gone himself. Plucked Debbie out of her driveway, but Mark was too fast. He didn't know what was going on. Last night, all surveillance on the Grayson household lapsed. It did from time to time, but never for so long, so completely. The only hint he got was the tap he'd put on Mark's girlfriend. The prognosis wasn't good.

        Mark landed behind her. Asphalt cracked underfoot. She turned, house keys jingling in her bag. "Mark?"

        "Did you know?" 

        "Know what?" She reached into her bag for wet wipes. Swore those things could help Dad be back on his feet after an ACL tear, after a gutshot. Bullshit. It was all bullshit. "Mark, what happened?"

        "You just thought you-" His head bobbed forward, a glob of his brain splatted on the black top. He swayed. Body yearning for him to fall. 

        "Mark." Her hands on his jaw, nails catching at the edges of open wounds. The pain made his eyes bulge. "Mark, oh my God. We'll- We'll get you help, okay?"

        "You just thought you'd wouldn't tell me." Mark pushed words and blood passed swollen lips. "Just thought you'd get away with it."

        Cool, lavender-smelling fabric smeared against his cheek. "I'll call your Father. We'll-"

        Mark came to on the other side of her welcome mat. Blood matted. Stinging in all his open sores. Dripping from everywhere. Hot all over except his hand. He blinked, opened his palm, and found ruined wet wipes and a shred of an earlobe, the pearl still attached. "Mom?"

        "-us Christ! Get out of my house before I call the cops!"

        Her dad always had so much to say. Snidely. Loudly. Always on his case about sneaking into her room or breaking her heart last month or some other bullshit like, "He's killed people, (Y/n)!" When he thought Mark was gone, but he was really outside your window.

        She'd always say, "On accident!" Mark appreciated it, even if he knew he could've tried harder to save those people.

        Mark stepped forward and left a red streak over the floor. Fists twitching shut. Mom's hair tickled the inside of his throat. No matter how many times he swallowed she wouldn't leave him be. Negging. "You never liked me."

        "Get out of my house." He spread himself in front of her as if his brow wasn't wet with sweat.

        "Dad just go upstairs, please."

        Mark came closer. Jaw aching too much. Swallowing some more but Mom kept on tickling. Taunting him, 'I knew, and you didn't.'

        Her dad's nose flared. "Out!" Mark reached out.

        "Dad!" She struggled around him, shoving hard at his chest, "Go!" Mark's fingers curled around her shoulder. Might as well have been death itself. Her voice shook, "Please."

        Mark squeezed. Not seeing who he had. Squeezed until she cried, and he came to himself. Her dad was trying to pull him off. Screaming. Clawing. She was only looking at Mark, tears in her eyes, saying, "Stop. I'm sorry." Though she didn't know what she was supposed to be sorry for. "Please don't."

        "Don't cry." He smeared her wet cheek with a thumb, made it wetter. "Com'ere."

        She came, shakily, but she came. Pushing a palm against her father, quietly telling him to keep still as if Mark were a T-rex in those shitty old movies. He could only watch as the animal's bloodied arms closed around his baby. Watch as she snuggled into his neck and told him gently as she could, "I love you."

        She hadn't said it before. They'd been on and off for nearly a year. Dancing around the idea of this being something serious, but they always kept crawling back to each other. His arms closed impossibly tighter, "I love you too." He said into her hair.

        Mark took her. Didn't look back as they rose into the sky. Her dad on the front lawn, her looking back until unconsiousness took her.

        People in their stupid outfits tried to tell him what to do. He didn't listen, shouting, "Don't touch her," when they tried to steer him. He only listened after they checked her vitals, he flew too fast, she got too little oxygen, stress didn't help. A few hours rest in his new bedroom, and she'd be okay.

        The room smelled like Dad even though he hadn't set foot in it in twenty years. It paralyzed Mark, sat on the bedside, holding her hand. Kregg, who finally introduced himself, talked at his back, "The human is inconsequential to your mission."

        The world betterment committee never existed. It had always been the world conquering committee. Another lie. Dad had never been sent to protect Earth. Another lie. Viltrumites weren't the good guys. Another lie. All of it dumped on him while he sat.

        Mark didn't care about the bad parts. Hell, Viltrum probably had some good points, and even then, he didn't give a shit. He just didn't want to stop holding her hand. "I'll get to it."

        "You've been saying that."

        He didn't know what Thragg would do if he failed whatever test this was. What'd happen to the one person who wasn't ordering him around or lying or fucking screaming at him. "I'm not leaving her."

        "Your mate will be safest if you do what the grand regent wants."

        Mark didn't want to do anything for anybody anymore, but he conquered Earth for her.

        The Teen Team didn't listen to reason; regurgitated points Thragg gave him. It would've been nice to have friends on the ship. People who felt bad for him. But nobody felt bad. So he made them feel worse. None of them survived. Unsurprised by the turn. Mark had never been one of them, not really, always on the fringes of friendships. Never smiling bright enough when he saved people.

        Earth suffered Mark's haphazard attempt at conquering. The council had to jump in, stop him from culling one population more than another. Thragg made a big speech about how he was disappointed Nolan's son couldn't do the simplest thing. Mark acted like he didn't care.

        Back in the room, her whole world since Thragg didn't want to see Mark's pet, he sobbed. Overwrought and suddenly stupid in all things. She held him, rubbed his back, and said, "It's okay, I've got you."

        He always came back wounded, shiny with that agent what's-it-called. The divot in his head shut slowly, he scratched at it in the night, dreaming of dad and waking up crying. She'd hold him and coo. He'd calm then go, "You must hate me, huh?" The crying would start again. Weeks of this.

        She asked for nothing, even information about Earth. Watched the stars pass out the window. Hated how much prettier it was than Chicago's night sky. Cried alone into her hands. Waited for him to come back, tell her about his day.

        The door opened, and he stomped inside, hair mussed, "Guess who sent my ass on another mission without telling me what the fuck I'm doing? Thragg!"

        He always came back yelling, but she'd be there, calm and waiting and ready to soothe. Knowing she was waiting got him through the missions.

        "He's been doing that a lot, huh?" She walked out of bed, arms out for him.

        Mark sunk into her, "Says it's to catch me up cuz I fuckin' suck or something."

        "You don't suck." She made them both sway. Holding the back of his head like he was a baby.

         The rage melted into the ground around his feet. He leaned into her harder, but she knew to expect it. "I suck so hard he won't let me lead my own empire until I'm like, two hundred."

         "I don't know if you'll make it to then, babe."

        He went stiff in her arms, and she couldn't rock him anymore, "What does that mean?"

        "I just-" she took a breathe, "It seems like he's trying to kill you. He doesn't want us here."

        He was silent, before, "I think you're right."

        It'd been so natural to let himself be lorded over, disobeying with middle fingers and soap-bar words. Thragg knew better, just like Dad did, and what was Dad? A fat fucking liar.

        "God. Of fucking course." His head lulled against her shoulder. "What would I do without you?" 

        "Die, probably."

        Laughter fanned her neck, "Probably. Might die in the death battle, I gotta challenge him to anyway." Viltrum's customs were still unclear.

        She paused, withholding her thoughts. She used to say everything she thought. Now, "Are you sure you have to do that? Is it even safe?" 

        "I'm not gonna go dying on you, baby." A kiss pressed to her neck. Another, higher, "Not gonna let anything happen to you either."

        The Viltrumite lab rats were coming up with something big, with a science-y name to match. Theoretically, it could extend life in shorter-lived beings. The testing phase wasn't going too bad, but he'd have to wait to know if it'd give the subjects super cancer in a few years or not. She'd be so happy when he told her, a ring in hand. They could rule Viltrum together. 

        She made a noncommittal noise.

        "When I'm in charge, yer comin' with me everywhere so you can tell me if anyone else is try'ina to kill me. Sound good?" He started walking her toward the bed. "And I'll take you to all the alien stores and buy you whatever you want. Cuz these-" Her knees caught on the bed frame and she fell. Mark crawled over her, earrings pulled out of his back pocket. "I can never tell if you like the stuff I pick." Trophies he tore off bodies, jewelry that still smelled of blood. "Probably better if you do it."

        He rolled the ugly things between his fingers, catching pukey green in the light. "Oh, Mark, I love those."

        "Really?"

        She turned so he could clip the first into her. "I love everything you bring back but..."

        "But?"

        The earring smacked against her neck. Sticky, warm, recently on someone else's ear or horn. She turned so he could put in the other, expression schooled, "Are you really sure you can beat him?"

        "I didn't know if I could beat Dad, but I had to try." He secured the second earring, liked the way it looked against her skin. "For you."

        "She's been dead for four years." He finished. Shiny eyed and blotchy cheeked. Looking at you but not at you, at her. "Earth time, not that bullshit."

        The conclusion played out, full HD, in your mind's eye without you trying. He was all whispy-voiced and sad, sitting there with a hunched back as if he hadn't been the reason for everything that happened down to your dead landlord's even deader kid. You imagined the you before you heard about him and her and everything you weren't. Mark would've never gone so far for you. The thought was still bitter, but the action- no wonder she did what she had.

        She'd have more poise responding, "That's long enough to move on."

        Mark thought finally, there's that tongue. "That's something she would say."

        "I'm not her." There's that venom, finally.

        And he smiled, big and sweet like that was the highest compliment possible, "Nah, you're better."

        Fuck him. Fuck him.

        "Four years." Markus' stomach churned worse than before. His jaw loose, his back tight. Images of Dad flashing behind his eyelids. A Dad who bought Burger Mart, a Dad who smiled. He wanted to puke. A version of you gone for four years. 

        "Yeah?" 

        "How long?" Gray asked when no one replied.

        You tried to tune it out. Your life, snuffed out in so many timelines, a pain they caused, a pain they shared. Awful.

        "It's been sixteen months." Markus clasped his hands, ran a finger over the smooth groove of where his wedding band used to be.

        You tried to school your expression, less time than you'd thought it'd be.

        "Fuck man," Mark said, always bad at comfort. Attention on you.

        "With the temporal discrepancy?" Gray asked.

        Markus should have expected Gray to pick up on that, stopped the soothing because he didn't deserve to be soothed, shouldn't have lied, "Six."

        He couldn't look at your face, saw your expression without looking, Eve's blood caking your face as you screamed.

        "Jesus Christ, man." Mark reached out and patted Markus' thigh. Sympathetic. "How are you not a fuckin' mess? Ya'know what I was doin' at six months? Mass homicide. How are you even walking?"

        He had never given himself a break after tragedy, had always locked it away, ignored it. He didn't know what to say now. Your fingers unfurled, inched for him, landed fingertips over his.

        "Because of," Sneaking a glance up, meeting your eyes, not afraid, not disgusted, just confused. "You." 

        You needed him to stop looking at you like that. All of them to stop. She was fucking dead. "You never told me." Yet you couldn't muster to bite at him and his slight frown- vulnerable as an open wound. You needed to tell him about the escape, soon, get Mark away. "I didn't know." But she persisted. Ghost in the room. A warning not to do something rash or else. Is telling him a good idea at all?

        "I didn't get to tell you." Markus's hands unclasped. Revealing the pale groove on his ring finger you'd never noticed. The wedding band was kept in his old super suit. Shredded from those desert days. The suit, he destroyed, the ring moved to a drawer in his quarters. He wouldn't look at it until he felt he was allowed to again. Nowhere close. "There's never been a good time," he side eyed Mark, "we're never alone."

        Mark scoffed, "I've seen your dick before. Nothin' you can't say in front of us."

        "I shouldn't have to sneak into your room for an hour alone with my wife."

        Why would he say that? You moved your hand off his without thinking.

        Mark barked a laugh, "Your wife? You're not even married to the bitch." He turned to you, frantic, "Sorry babe, you're not a bitch." At your wide eyes, "Oh yeah, he told me about that."

        Markus told him. A private, beautiful thing just for you both- and he told Mark. Why? To upkeep the charade? Mark didn't need to know that, but he did. They were closer than you'd thought.

        The beauty marks around Markus' lip twitched. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

        "What's that supposed to mean?" Close enough to bicker like friends. 

        "Dating on and off for two years is nothing compared to a marriage."

        "You literally-" Mark stopped himself. Not here, with you. Not after what Sebastian did. "Whatever, fuck you, man."

        Father would've punched him for being so insolent. Somewhere the bruise wouldn't show. Then he'd lecture Markus about his posture, his frown. Even with Mark's sugar coating, he was spoiled stupid. It made Markus hate him a little more. "You have no place to talk." 

        The air tightened. 

        Gray started, "The galactic address-"

       Friends, good enough that Mark didn't start swinging. "Oh, so fuck me and pouring my heart out then! Alright, cool guy." 

       Gray kept himself between them. "Bickering will not help us write the galactic address."

        "Fine." Mark scowled and projected his datapad for them all to see, "Come on, start talking since you wanna work so bad."

        ***

        You shot up, expecting to see a suburban living room and a father covered in blood. White walls. White sheets pooled in your lap. Afternoon sun reflected off another building's window, set at the right angle to blind. You weren't her, and not sixteen. Thank God.

        "Good mornin' baby." Mark slid the tray over your legs and let go. You gasped, but it didn't fall, it hovered. "Hah, sorry I couldn't help it." In front of you, a plate of breakfast sided with juice. Close to what you were familiar with but off, a plastic toy version of food. "I know it looks weird, but you'll like it, promise." She had. Requested it three times while they were on Viltrum together. She sulked when the supply of ingredients for it ran out on the ship.

        "Morning, I-" You sat straighter, "When did I fall asleep?" Vague flashes Mark putting his boots on the bed, Markus making a face but rattling off talking points. You watching the door, wondering where Grayson was, if Seb had been able to talk to him. Mark complaining about politics- the soundtrack as your eyelids started drooping.

        "Sometime between Markus saying all my speech ideas were stupid and Gray being a kiss ass." Mark leaned into the spot beside your knees. "We figured it out. Boys are doin' the hard parts now while I get to spend the next hour with you." At the look you gave him, he threw his hands up, "Fine, fine! You got me. We wanted you to sleep, and I get final say of who goes where, so I'm with you."

        You picked up the fork, "You didn't have to stay with me if it means Kregg being annoying again."

        "He's always annoying. And I wanted to." Too intense. He forced himself to relax, laugh, "I mean, when was the last time we got to hang out like this?" You waited for the other shoe to drop, it never did. "I miss you, ya'know."

        Your gut went light and fluttery, and you knew you'd miss him when this was over. The yellow thing on your plate moved like jello when you sawed into it. "I miss you too."

        Lip rings moved with his smile. He was staring, waiting for you to eat. You bit off the politest yet most cautious chunk you could. Chewed. Wait- "Shit, that's good."

        "Should've trusted me," Mark looked down, up, "instead of lookin' at the thing like it'd kill you."

        "It won't kill me, right?" You shoved the rest into your mouth, moaning. It'd been such a long time since you'd had food with real flavor that wasn't also deeply horrifying to look at.

        "I mean, if you eat more than forty pounds in a day, then yeah." Mark watched you chew. Which was awhile since you'd shoved too much into your mouth. The air had to be filled eventually. "It's gonna be different."

        You swallowed, "The food?"

        "Us. After this." His palm slotted between your blanketed knees, "I haven't forgotten about that vacation. I know it's forever away, but I want you to know I didn't forget." 

        You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile, "Someone's feeling sappy."

        "I just..." His eyes twitched down.

         "Do I have something on my lips?" You forked more into your mouth.

        Up.

        The bed didn't so much as creak when he leaned forward. "Is that your way of asking me to kiss you?"

        Muffledly, "There's food in my mouth."

        Mark leaned in anyway. Kiss closed lipped and gentle. A yellow glob stuck to his lip as he pulled back, licked it away. "God, that shit's good. 'S called like goobernack or someth- shit." His back tensed, nerves on fire as he tried to shift back. He stayed in place, groaning. He hadn't been this fucked up in a while, moved without thinking. 

        Swallowed. "You're really hurt, huh?" You reached out but didn't quite touch him. 

        He closed the gap, pressed his shoulder into your palm. His smile twitched. "I can handle it." Another glance down.

        "Is there..." You didn't want to say it, but you reached for the mark Sebastian had left on your throat, still sore to the touch. You felt leather. You'd never noticed. You'd grown so used to its weight. Its absence had felt so wrong. "Mark."  

        "Let's just enjoy our time together," his hand slid up your leg, "we don't have to fight about this."

        "I haven't used my powers on you at all." The fork fell out of your fingers into the muck. Aftertaste gone sour in your mouth. "I've been so good. I-"

        "You have been, baby." The collar wasn't on. Well, that wasn't quite right. The tracker was, but everything else was off. You were too well-behaved to even think of using your powers. No more reason to want to with Sebastian gone. Even now, with the betrayal written across your face, your mouth stayed shut. That's how he knew you loved him, how he knew the address wouldn't be a mistake. The thought that you'd never find out, that you'd never realize you could have used them the whole time, that made Mark's stomach feel positively full of butterflies.

        "When it was off, I thought I lost you." He squeezed your knee, stretched his lips in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, but everything about him in that moment was too much. You needed him to stop, to leave, you needed to leave. "I left the other necklace on. Looks pretty on you. I like that you're getting more comfortable with her things." As if you'd take that bait to change the conversation. 

        "So you..." The collar was body-heat warm. Slipped on in secret as soon as your head hit the pillow.

        "I'm sorry I let that happen." Mark scooted closer and tried to hide his hiss. "But it won't again."

        No. No. No. What the fuck? "The only reason I'm still here is because I used my powers on him." You felt anger broiling, "The only reason it happened was because I couldn't stop him with it on, I couldn't-"

        "I know, and you were so brave for that, but he's gone now, and the others? They wouldn't ever hurt you. And the council, you know they don't like the powers, baby." He fingered the chunky heart clasp. Metal going cha-chink, cha-chink under his nail. Like nails in your coffin. "Don't you want to help get Kregg off my back a little?"

        You wanted to shove him away. Wanted to lean back, but there was nowhere to escape. You were in his bed, on his planet, in his collar. "Doesn't the brain chip-"

        "It only monitors brain waves and sometimes sends a signal to this thing," cha-chink, cha chink, "it doesn't tell me where you are. Can you imagine what would've happened if he didn't have a tracker too? If I hadn't come in time?"

        It hurt. Burned as your vision went blurry. 

        Mark swiped a tear away with his thumb. "Don't cry."

        You didn't want to cry. You wanted to rip his hair out and smash his face in the yellow slop. "Did you really believe me when I said I was sorry?" You heard him say. "That I wouldn't hurt you?" You felt him inside you. 

        You heard yourself say, "I was so scared." The last rational part of you kept up the act. Focused on the escape while the rest fell into despair. The first hitch came, then the next, and his thumbs couldn't windshield wipe you fast enough. 

        "Oh baby, com'ere." He moved the tray off your lap and pushed himself onto you. A hug, but his whole body was like a shackle. "It's okay. It's never gonna happen again, okay? You're safe here, I promise."

        You wanted to use your powers, but the thought of electrocution made your throat close. The best you could do was hug him back as hard as you could. Pretend you were hurting him while knowing you never could.

         "Just his little lap pup." You heard him say.

        ***

        The sun beat down, low and turning a pale purple over the skyline. Viltrum wasn't so intimidating when the buildings weren't looming overhead. From up here, Viltrum glittered like any other city. You could pretend you were somewhere else for moments at a time before you remembered the hovering platform underfoot.

        Mark let you cry until you couldn't anymore. Petting and cooing and saying, "He's gone, baby, it's gonna be okay." Then he went on about not wanting to work more but he had to- and you had to come with him. The collar wasn't enough anymore.

        He took you outside. To a courtyard where the council that was conscious and the remaining Marks waited. The sky watch was left to robot camera eyes. The courtyard square detached itself from the ground, flew smoothly up. Mark smiled as you clung to his arm.

        Lap pup.

        "Does the address really call for scenery?" Thula flew stiffly beside the platform. Femur shattered inside her. You wouldn't know by looking. She wore pain well.

        "The address calls for whatever the emperor wants it to," Gray said, planted by Mark. The script mostly ideas and points because Mark couldn't be bothered to rehearse lines.

        "Of course, grand general." Thula waited for Kregg to look at her. He refused, eyes over the platform ledge where Viltrum started to show a little color.

        You peaked too. Below was a massive triad. Three circles set apart from one another, each a different color, all miles thick. Umber, sage, and sea green. "What is that?"

        "The refugees I told you about," Gray said. "We had to keep them somewhere."

        You were so far up you can't tell one body from another, but knew they were packed like fish. Not a dot of shelter amongst any of them. "I can't hear them at all." Crowds of people, any kind of people, fucking love cheering and whooping and waving flags when important things were happening around them. All three crowds, in the hundreds of thousands, were utterly silent. Not that their voices couldn't reach you up here, they just didn't speak.

        "They're smart, saving their energy." Gray hovered closer to the edge. Hands tucked behind his back, skirt dancing in the wind. "Not all of them will survive being kept for so long." The platform cast an eclipse over the sage folks. The color deepened as people pushed into the cool. Crushed each other to get to it. "The overseer report numbers low as three-hundred dead today. Likely from heat stroke, humans would call it."

        "Low?"

        "Yes. We had little time to prepare accommodations, but Markus led the organization. I have to say, if I were in charge, we'd be losing many more. I didn't consider how ill-suited they all are for Viltrum's climate- he did." Gray smiled minutely in Markus' direction. 

        It was hard to imagine, "He did this?"

         Markus' back twitched. He didn't quite care for the horror in your tone. He couldn't stop talking to Conquest either, "No. You can not leave during the broadcast. The emperor has specifically requested your presence."

        "It was a group effort," Gray said. "I think we did well, but there is always room for improvement in our teamwork- we didn't consider body extraction. The overseers were not made to lift such mass. We'll have to periodically retrieve them ourselves."

        "Nobody has time for that," Mark commented before sliding back into his sniping at Kregg, who was demanding to look over the non-existent script.

        "Well." Gray said, "They can look upon them and be reminded of how they haven't fallen yet." He nodded to himself, the justification made. "Motivation is always good."

       "You can't just put them inside? There's so many buildings." For a long while. Tall and windowed with greenery inside. Air conditioned, you knew firsthand.

        "All of our structures are finely attuned to their intended purposes. Anything additional would throw off the balance and reduce productivity." 

        Jesus Christ. You held your tongue. Looked at Grayson, but he wouldn't look back despite the fact you knew he was listening. "You're... feeding them at least?"

        "They are fed and misted once per day. I wish we'd had the foresight to start mass food production earlier, but the Emperor's kindness could not have been predicted." He knew he was losing you, had to add on, "They are safe from Thragg here. And once he is gone, the living will be returned home with stories of Emperor Mark's generosity."

        "Generosity? It's a-" You couldn't say concentration camp. Mark wouldn't appreciate it, Gray wouldn't understand the implication. "What are they getting from this?"

        Gray tilted his head, a little habit he picked up from Mother. "To live, to stay on Viltrum as no species has in a thousand years."

        "What's the hold up with the camera?" Mark slipped away. Across the platform to Grayson, who was doing sound and video feed checks from his data pad.

        "Excuse me." Gray joined them.

        You were left at the edge. Wind at your back. Suffering at your feet. You hadn't cared when it was people in the way of you and rent, or people who'd kill you if they had the chance. Sometimes, it felt good to hurt people you knew nothing about. You didn't have to see their loved ones' pain. This was all loved ones. Friends. Families. Children. Crotchety old people. Assholes. Lovers. Scum of the universe. Sunshine on legs. Entire species from planets you'd never heard of. 

        You wondered how long it'd be until they ate the dead, if they already were. Had they figured out how to set up a jerky wrack yet?

        Mark had kept you away from most of the invasions for a reason.

        "Hey."

        You almost tipped over the edge. A hand caught your back, pulled you a few inches toward the sound of, "Whoa dude. It's just me." Seb. 

         He moved himself next to you, hand migrated to your shoulder. Pinky brushed past leather. "Holy shit."

        The wind swung his hair into your peripherals, but you couldn't look away from the colors. "Those are all people."

        "I was talking about..." He swallowed the obvious. "What happened?" With Sebastian, the new collar.

        "A lot." 

        There wasn't time to angst. He needed to tell you, "Your boyfriend's a dick." With coded talk like that, he would've been the best Coalition spy.

        "Over here, asshole," Mark shouted over his shoulder.

        Seb whispered, "The other one." 

        Markus didn't address that with a response, but you knew Seb was talking about- "Holy shit, Grayson, you actually can do your job!"

        "He doesn't want me to-"

        "Soldier, get back in position." Gray's hard words at both your backs.

        Seb cringed but made his voice cool, "Alright, alright, jeez." He moved into the lineup. 

        Mark stood in the center, sky at his back. Markus and Gray to his right and left, slightly behind him. Beside them respectively, Seb and Grayson- his lack of leg hidden behind the flesh of his neighbor. Beside them, Kregg and Thula. Capping both ends was Conquest to the left, you to the right. You were the only one kneeling. One arm posed over your thigh, head tilted down as directed by Gray. Tradition.

        The softball sized camera hovered across the platform. "I want just the three of us to start." Mark directed, and the camera moved closer, piloted on Grayson's arm. Kregg watched him with open distaste. His rank usurped, and now even his smallest duties given to another brat. "Arms behind your back. 'S trashy to see the cam op doing their job."

        Grayson did. He scanned the sky. The Coalition hadn't sent word in days. The eighteenth hour was closing in and still, nothing.

        "You gonna start this thing or what?" Mark said.

        "Three seconds." Grayson said.

        Silence spread over the platform. Cut by Mark's intake of breath just before his face was plastered across every available screen Viltrum signals could touch. "Been awhile."

        People stopped walking and looked up, down, all around. Hovercrafts slammed on their breaks, his voice in their speakers. Knives came down on fingers and claws and tentacles in kitchens. Bar fights slowed. Babies were left crying on their backs. Nothing mattered when Viltrum's very own mutt graced the screen.

         "The western sector of the galaxy is ours, but that's old news. I'm home- preparing the next generation to aid in our expansion." Mark began, "Rumor says we don't have the people for the job. Think what you will, we will come, we will conquer, and instead of beating you endlessly down- we will feed you. We will care for you and your people in ways you have never known. The Coalition and its copycats can't do that for you, and you just can't believe everything you see on TV."

        "Wasn't he supposed to be assassinated?" One viewer said to another.

        "I'll believe whatever the hell I want." Another said alone, fat rollup between claws.

        "He always says he'll feed us, but has Viltrum ever come for our shit hole corner of the galaxy?" Said the slip of a thing that recently started calling itself a cannibal.

        The camera pushed backward. Unveiled the same faces they saw months ago, hoping they weren't real. There were less now but that didn't matter- because time had weathered the remainder. Shapeshifters never thought about how months and work would affect the thing they were modeled after. They stayed perfect carbon copies. These were not shapeshifters.

        "What now? What now?" Someone yanked out a tuft of fur from the back of their neck. "It's not enough, is it?"

        "Some'r dead. 'S good." Someone knocked back a drink. 

        "Means the weak ones got picked off." Another someone stared into the ice melting in their glass, "Rest'a 'em's so good we're not gonna feel shit when they fly through us. Gonna be walkin' down the road then boom, ya dead." They sipped, tasted nothing. "Here's to dying fast for the rebellion, however long the rest'a us last."

        "'M not toasting to that."

        Mark paused, head tilted as if hearing their cries. Wails. Prayers for him to be struck down. He smiled and retorted, "Viltrum is still full of heart-"

       "Wish it wasn't." A needle in a haystack said. A lone rebel on a loyalist planet.

        "-and that heart pumps the blood of Argall through me. I was chosen to lead before my birth, before my father's. My heir, though he doesn't exist quite yet, has been chosen too." Pandering bullshit. Markus' idea. "For him, I will do what my father and his predecessor could not." He looked into the lens. Into Thragg- who he refused to give the satisfaction of being named. "Old traditions have held the empire back for too long. We need new things to celebrate. To strive for." Chin high, he said, "(Y/n), stand."

        Your head knocked up even though Gray told you to keep it down. A mouthed, "What?" 

        A wing pointed at the girl on screen, "Who the fuck is that?" 

        "Definitely not a Viltrumite, that's for sure."

        "Looks like one."

        "Yeah, but she's kneeling. Well, not anymore."

        You stood soldier stiff, turning to Mark, trying to ignore the knowledge that the whole galaxy's attention was on you. The good, the bad, and the pitying. 

        A hand went over a mouth. "She's been crying."

        "Wouldn't you be?" He said.

        "I-"

        Mark stepped out of the careful lineup. "I love Viltrum. There, I said it. Viltrumites can love. I love this place and what I do so much that I wanted to share it with all these people." He gestured, and Grayson piloted the camera higher, tilted it down. You noticed his other hand was curled into a fist, your stomach twisted. "Their planets were bleeding out, and I couldn't ignore their distress calls. They thought nobody would come, but we did. My father would've never allowed our planet to be shared with his subjects, but I'm all about sharing. They needed me. I saved them. I will do it again, even if the old heads amongst us hate it. I don't."

        "He's full of shit." Many someones said. 

        Another gesture, and the camera lowered and tracked Mark across the platform. Catching each of the faces of people he passed slowly by. Stone cool on the surface, panicking under- Mark hadn't said he'd do something like this. 

        Seb, however, couldn't help but twist his brow. Nearly uttering, "The fuck?"

       "My father and grandfather hid their mates out of cowardice." Mark was almost to you, moving in slow motion. Eyes locked to yours. "I will not hide mine," You watched his closed fist lift. "But I can't properly introduce you to her until she is my empress." 

your fifteenth spring teaches you the reality of what it is like to truly mourn for someone. the news came to you in the midst of exams week at the aerospace academy, and it came to you in the form of your dad’s lieutenant colonel—his best friend. when you open the door to your dorm, you knew what it meant when you saw the man stand before you, his cap tucked in between his arm and side, his gaze downcast. your ears rang so loudly that you didn’t hear when he apologized.

and the rest of that week went by in a blur.

you took your exams and promptly prepared for the funeral the farspace fleet would give your dad in skyhaven.

it was an odd feeling.

attending your dad’s funeral in skyhaven was like a nightmare, a surreal experience that you wanted to wake up from. you always thought your dad would die of old age and be buried in bloomshore’s cemetery, long after retiring. yet, here you are: at the farspace fleet, watching as the general gave a speech about the brightest alum of the aesrospace academy and the best colonel he had the pleasure of training when he was a lieutenant. honestly, you don’t even pay attention to the old man. you know your mom isn’t either. you pay attention to the casket, the way the polished surface shines brightly against the unforgiving sun.

it’s an odd thing: attending a funeral when there is nothing in the casket.

because your dad died in the deepspace tunnel, the only casualty of the patrol team he was leading. you heard of his pilots’ recounts of the event, heard of it from his second-in-command. everything was normal, everything was going smoothly. then, the space felt weird. everything felt still for a second.

there was a vibration in the air, a low hum that intensified.

“your father gave the order for the patrol team to turn back.” a pause. “we were turning around when a vortex opened and…”

the deepspace tunnel.

what an unpredictable and unforgiving thing.

you blink, and suddenly there are people you’ve never seen before giving you their condolences.

“i’ll be organizing a small funeral for your dad,” your mom mumbles to you in between the shower of apologies you receive and the pitying gazes.

you glance at her. “do you need help?”

she shakes her head. “it’ll be small… just family.”

you suck a breath in and your finger twitches in your lap. “can zayne—”

“his family will be there,” she grabs your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “they’re family, too. do you want caleb there?”

caleb.

there is a tinge of anger that tugs at the strings of your heart, searing ardently within you.

even now, when you think you can move on from the idea of him—the thought of him—he still manages to slither back in some way.

you shake your head. “no. i just want zayne there.”

what’s it to caleb, anyways?

he stopped caring in eighth grade, so he won't care now.

and you don't have time to mourn over a living person who broke your heart.

your mom was quick to organize your dad’s funeral. a week later, while you’re on spring break, you find yourself at the kitchen table with your mom.

“what do you want in the casket?”

you tilt your head at her question. “excuse me?”

she continues filling out some paperwork. “what do you want to put in his casket for tomorrow? i’m putting in his awful collection of vinyls.” she chuckles, but you see the slight tremble in her fingers.

your dad often joked that he’d like to be buried with his vinyls so no one else could have them—he mostly said that because his best friend always eyed them when they were students in the academy.

what do you want to bury?

you think of his cap, the one that sits in your dorm right by the picture of zayne you have on your desk.

“nothing.” you finally say. “i… don’t want to put anything in the casket.”

you want to keep your dad by your side, you don't want to forget him.

“okay.”

and this time around, the funeral feels real.

your throat feels tight, your heart beats faster than usual. the sky weeps along with your heart, you feel like the world is spinning too quickly and that you’re about to sink down.

everything feels like a mess.

your mom stands to your right, her eyes fixed on the casket that’s being lowered into the ground. she moves forward, standing in front of the pit. she says something you cannot hear, kisses the white flower in her hand and lets it fall inside.

a squeeze breaks you out from your daze, warmth seeping into you. from the corner of your eye, zayne nods at you. with a gulp, you take a step forwards, then another until you're in front of the pit. you stare down at the casket.

this is too real.

standing in front of his casket makes it too real.

the man who called you his little star, the man who wasn't always around but tried to be, the man who never read you the classic bedtime stories and instead told you about the different jets in the fleet, the man who made you fall in love with the sky, the man who loved you more than anyone ever will and proudly told you that as if it were an undeniable fact—he is dead.

your dad is actually gone.

dead.

and your knees give out. you’re unsure whether you’ve been crying from the start but you are now: the tears rapidly fall down your cheeks, burning in excruciating pain. you don't care about the mud that gets on your clothes, all you can focus on is that emptiness and pain you feel, the wide hole that sinks into your chest.

a warm hand touches your shoulder, gentle as if to not break you further. arms circle around you, carefully bringing your head into a familiar crook. zayne exhales softly, a hand running up and down the length of your back. the umbrella he held up now lays forgotten on the ground.

“it hurts,” you croak, grabbing a fist full of his coat. “it hurts so much, zayne… make it stop.”

he continues to hold you. “it will hurt for a long time,” he says. “because healing takes a long time. you’ll learn to live with this one day… maybe not now, but one day.”

you can only gasp in response, clinging onto zayne as your sobs begin to take over, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “he’s dead,” you shut your eyes and press yourself closer to zayne, “he’s gone.”

you feel him shake his head. “he isn’t. he lives right,” zayne leans back, the hand that once held your head now pointing at your heart, “in here. he’s always going to be there with you.”

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and the faces you see everyday you can never put a name to. you talk to your mom every day, and you delude yourself into thinking that clipped responses are better than none at all.

it’s the most you can do, after all.

you talk to zayne less despite having lived in the same city for four years now. you pull away from him slowly, taking small steps away until the gap between you has grown into what it is now: a canyon. the distance was already there when he left, so it shouldn't matter if it's grown more now that you’ve done the same.

and the small girl you left behind? the one who made the sun rise? you haven’t spoken to her once since your dad’s funeral in bloomshore. you didn't even tell her of his passing—you just stopped talking all together, and in between your fresh sorrow and her constant messages, she stopped trying to get a hold of you, as if coming to the slow realization that you're… done.

honestly, you don't blame her for stopping. you were a bitch, the remnants of a heartache mixed with your grief drove you to give her the cold shoulder.

you’ve pushed them all away and locked yourself in the prison that is your fear: the fear of getting too close and experiencing that pain once again.

because you don't think you can allow yourself to mourn for the dead ever again.

the seasons come and go, the days blur together, and somehow you’re a week away from graduating. you’re surprised the academy even let you get this far—after all, your score on that exam was just fine.

the heat of summer is unforgiving: it beats down on your back as you climb down the jet, the sweltering heat making you take quick strides across the practice field, unfastening your helmet with a flicker of your hand. you’re practically booking it towards the locker room.

“how are you feeling, miss valedictorian?” a classmate runs up to your side, matching your quick pace. “you got your speech ready?”

you don’t spare a glance and continue walking. “i have everything ready.”

they whistle. “wow,” they awe, “that’s our legendary miss valedictorian for you.”

the title makes you roll your eyes. “i thought i told all of you to quit it with that.”

they shrug, still following you as you enter the locker room. “everyone knows it’s true. even the academy praises you.”

the prodigy of the aerospace academy, y/n l/n.

just like your dad.

you tune out the voice of your classmate, getting rid of your flight suit and equipment, and storing it neatly inside of your locker. you adjust your clothes just as fast before you're out the door, already heading towards the gates. there’s a man that stands not too far from you, his back towards you. there’s also a girl talking to one of the guards nearest to you, though you can't see her as the guard covers her from your line of sight.

you aren't even a step outside when a hand latches around your wrist, and you freeze because you know who it is.

how could you not? his warmth is so familiar to you, even after all this time.

what surprises you the most is the fact that he's here. why is he here? he lives so far away from the academy. how is he here?

he says your name quietly. “we… should talk.”

your heart lurches, but still you don’t pull away. “i thought you were busy with med school...”

you can practically hear the way zayne raises a brow at your words.

“how would you know?” he asks, his tone void of any real malice—just pure curiosity. “we haven't talked since august.”

“i… go through your moments… sometimes…” you mumble in embarrassment, “you were studying not too long ago, right?”

his hold on your wrist loosens and tightens at the same time, his touch hesitant. he wants to hold on tighter, but is unable to. zayne holds your wrist gently, thinking as if you are to crumble if he were to hold on any tighter. he breathes slowly, “can we talk?” he quickly adds on, “privately?”

you nod and grab his hand, leading him to your apartment.

and as you walk away, you don't hear the call of a familiar name.

“pips!”

you awkwardly sit next to zayne in your living room, knees touching. your leg bounces, and you refuse to look at the older male.

zayne wordlessly places a hand down on your knee, stopping it from moving. “…there’s no need to be nervous.”

“there kind of is,” you grumble. “i didn’t think you’d ever visit me over…”

the distance, you want to say, but the words lodge themselves in your throat. you tap your finger against your leg now.

he hums. “well, i wouldn’t be here in the first place had you not started to pull away.” zayne breathes in slowly, carefully grabbing your hand in his. “i don’t blame you for anything. i just… want you to know that i’m always here. it doesn’t matter if you start pulling away because i’ll just follow you. i just want you to know that.”

you grip his hand at his words. “i’m a terrible friend,” you mumble. “how can you not blame me for this? how can you even say that?”

“because you’re still mourning,” he replies. “i know you—that means i also know how much your dad means to you.”

means—present.

not meant—past tense.

because you still miss your dad. you miss the summer days in verona where he’d carry you on his shoulders. you miss when he would talk to you about the new jets on his fleet. you mourn not only him, but the future you never got to live with him. he was supposed to watch you graduate, watch you work your way up in the ranks of the fleet—his fleet, he was supposed to be there when you ask him for love advice, he was supposed to help you move into your apartment after freshman year at the dorms and haul everything inside because he would never let his little star move a muscle.

“but i should be over his…” death. you still hate saying that stupid word. “but instead, i’ve let it consume me. you don’t blame me for that? for letting my fears influence me?”

you know that zayne knows: you pulled away because you’re afraid of losing him like you did with your dad. you’ve thought about it, about a world without him, when your mind can’t rest during the late hours of the night. each time you would end up silently weeping. there are no words to describe a world without him in it.

“of course not.” he knows. “i understand.” he always does. “i can’t make promises that i don't know if i’ll be able to keep because the future is unpredictable, but i can promise to take care of myself for you to ease your worries.”

and just like that, the knots in your chest untangle themselves. your shoulders no longer feel heavy, and you can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“you…” you tilt your head to look him. “you’re too good to me, zayne li.”

“i’m supposed to be good to you,” he lets out an amused chuckle. you take in how he looks now, how he looks older and more mature, how his hazel eyes have more brown in them than green hues right now, how his lips are curved upwards just the slightest bit. “i’m your best friend, you know?”

the book you had been reading for the month lays discarded on your chest, your back on your bed as you cover your mouth, shoulders shaking. zayne stares at you with a deadpan on his features. “you still haven’t made any friends?”

he gives you a pointed look from his sitting position against the bedframe. “have you made any friends?”

you stick your tongue out at him. “touché.”

zayne blinks once before leaning forwards to pinch your cheek, stretching the skin out. you furrow your brows and flick his wrist. “what are you doing?”

the corner of his lip lifts. “pinching your cheek.”

“no shit,” you scoff, huffing through your nose in amusement when his hazel eyes widen at your words. “what? don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming?”

he clears his throat and lets go of your cheek. “i certainly didn’t expect such a colorful word to be a part of your… everyday vocabulary.”

you shrug and roll off the bed. “the officers have a nasty influence on first years,” you scrunch your nose, “even worse when flight training starts. they just bitch about everything.” you sigh, “obviously, i don’t speak like this to the officers… or anyone.”

“then why say it around me?”

“because i don’t have anything to hide from you,” you reply, “i tell you everything. i’m always going to be the most relaxed around you—that won’t ever change.”

zayne smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “you don’t tell me everything.”

you purse your lips. “yes, i do. i—”

“you never told me you liked caleb,” the smile still doesn’t leave his lips, and you tense at the statement. “but i knew that you did.”

you blink a couple of times.

the stupid kiss.

you never told him about what caleb did on the night of his fourteenth birthday. you didn’t tell him of the pain.

and you won’t tell anyone; no living soul will ever know.

looking away from him, your gaze falls on the snow globe on your nightstand. “and you never told me you liked her, but i knew you did.”

“i don't.”

your eyes go back to him, watching as he takes his glasses off. “i don’t like her… maybe i never did.” the last bit was quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear. before you can question him, he looks up and eyes your neck. a finger comes up to point at his own. “you don’t wear it anymore.” you know what he’s referring to.

you think to the box that sits underneath your bed in your mom’s house: the box that holds everything related to him—the pictures, the necklace, the notes and the doodles and the paper airplanes… everything. “i threw it away as soon as i left for skyhaven.”

the male hums. “is that so?”

you nod. “yeah,” you breathe out.

there was no point in bringing a piece of caleb with you when all you wanted was to forget him.

“it’s getting late,” zayne mumbles. “you have a spare room, right?”

“about that…”

zayne stares at the empty room you show him down the hallway from your room. he turns his head towards you. “why… is it empty?”

“i’m the one doing the visiting,” you say, “not the other way around. i found no need to set up the spare room…”

“i see…”

you smile at him, “we can sleep in the same bed.”

he furrows his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. “what?”

“c’mon!” you nudge his shoulder. “it’ll be like old times!”

zayne sighs and pinches his nose. “you are a woman, and i am a man.”

“…and?” you raise an eyebrow at him. “are you saying you’re going to eat me up or something? should i be worried?”

“of course not,” he says quickly. there’s a slight frown on him that confuses you. “but… am i not a man to you?”

“of course you are,” you answer, leaning forwards. you reach out and grab onto his cheek, pinching it. “but i trust you enough to not do anything.”

“…i see.”

there were no classes for the rest of the week for the graduating class, meaning you no longer had to wake up in the crack ass of dawn to get ready. unfortunately, habits are hard to die, so despite having turned off your alarm, your mind wakes you up when the sky is a faded, dark blue. immediately, your mood sours as you stare up at the ceiling.

you lay in your bed for a fee seconds longer when you’re suddenly aware that your right side is empty and cold. with a yawn, your cold feet hit the ground as you stand up and quietly search for your missing friend.

zayne lifts his brows when you walk into the living room, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “did i wake you?”

you shake your head, padding over to where he sits on the couch. the cushion sinks when you sit down, your head immediately falling on his shoulder. “i’m used to waking up at this hour…” you squint at his hands. “are you studying?”

he nods, ready to say something but the word die at the tip of his tongue. zayne watches curiously at your outstretched hand that open and close repeatedly.

“give me your notebook.”

he does so without any complaint. you scan the contents quickly, gaze flitting up to him afterwards. “i’ll help you study.”

zayne chuckles softly, and shakes his head. “i appreciate that, but you should sleep some more.”

“i’m already up,” you say through squinted eyes. “besides, it’ll be like old times.”

“ah yes,” he hums, nodding once, “back when you were in middle school and i helped you study.”

except you never actually studied. zayne would read the questions out loud once, you would answer perfectly, and then you would decide enough was enough before spending the rest of your time reading with him.

friday morning comes in the form of a quiet and empty room.

when you wake up, your left side is empty once again. in the span of the week, you’ve come to learn that zayne has the habit of waking up earlier than you do. sometimes he’s up an hour before you, other times it’s half an hour.

you breathe in and exhale slowly, blink once at the roof and then stand up. the drowsiness leaves your body as you begin to get ready: you brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face before wiping it away, you put your uniform on, you comb through the knots in your hair, and you place your cap on your head. your eyes move towards your desk, eyeing the black cap that sits on it.

you’ll be able to wear it soon.

you slip your socks on, and move into the living room. zayne sits at the table, his laptop open in front of him as he highlights something on his notebook. he looks up, his hazel gaze locking with yours. he gestures at the steaming cup of coffee in front of the chair next to him, and you head towards it.

“i thought your graduation was at nine,” he says, eyes going back to his laptop. “why are you already ready?”

“force of habit,” you shrug, grabbing the cub. the warmth seeps into your fingertips, and you raise it to your lips, pausing, “and my class has to practice once before the ceremony. we’re supposed to be there an hour from now... head for breakfast afterwards,” you snort and shake your head, eyes narrowing in mirth, “someone called it brunch in the group chat. another person called them a dumbass.”

zayne’s lips quirk upwards as you finally take a sip from your cup. he watches you with a quiet intensity, one that somehow warms up the tips of your ears, yet you tell yourself to not dwell on it because he’s just zayne, the boy you grew up with.

“you sound happy.”

you bring the cup down to rest on the table. “i am,” you breathe out.

the rest of your time before heading to the academy is spent by quizzing zayne. he answers everything perfectly, and you promptly congratulate him every time, to which he huffs a laugh through his nose. when it’s time for you to leave, he offers to give you a ride and you accept.

his car is, as always, clean. it looks like it just had the day he bought—you were with him as he walked around the dealership, scrutinizing every car and analyzing every thing he learned about them until he found one he liked. it took almost two hours, and you were tired as hell, but it was worth it. he drove you to a small cafe afterwards, his treat. and though you were still mourning for your dad, despite it having been a year later, that day you felt the first semblance of normality.

the car comes to a stop, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“i’ll see you later,” says zayne.

you give him a smile. “yeah, see you later.” when you open the door, he grabs onto your wrist. you look back.

“you’ll be free afterwards, right?”

“well, i know that there’ll be a party to celebrate… but that’s in the evening, like at nine.”

he nods. “good.”

zayne doesn't say anything afterwards and only bids you goodbye, promising to see you in a few hours. with a small wave, you watch as he drives off, leaving you alone at the gates. you breathe in slowly and exhale.

you take a step back, twist around and begin to walk to the gates when you suddenly stumble forwards, your cap falling off your head and landing on the ground with a thud.

“shoot! i’m so sorry about that!” a voice rings out from behind you.

with a sigh, you lean down to pick up your cap, dusting it off. you glance behind you: there's two, tall guys. one has short hair, and he has his friend in a headlock. the one in a headlock has brown hair, bangs covering his face from your judging eyes. you turn to face them.

“my friend here sure is clumsy,” the guy laughs, tightening his hold on the hunched over friend. the friend grunts in response, trying to pry off the arm around his shoulder. “oh shit,” the guy gasps, seemingly having realized something. “you’re a graduating senior?”

“that’s right,” you say.

the guy beams, his free arm stretching out towards you. “congrats, senior!”

his enthusiasm brings a small smile to your lips, and you give him a firm handshake. “thank you.”

“caleb,” the boy snaps his head towards his friend in the chokehold. “i can’t believe your clumsy ass bumped into our senior!”

the name makes your smile curl downwards.

“ah, senior! don’t tell me we upset you!” the other boy panics.

you shake your head, eyes closed. “no,” you grimace, “but i do have to get going.” you put the cap back on your head, and with a small wave, you walk away.

“caleb, why the hell are you staring? show some respect!”

caleb.

what a way to sour your mood.

the practice was chaotic, to say the least. after you dropped a bomb on them with the salutatorian, everyone began to shout questions directed at the two of you. you got so fed up you yelled at them to shut up or else you wouldn’t go to breakfast with them afterwards.

which leads you to now.

you sit at a table with your classmates, all of them staring at you.

“…so, i didn’t want to give the speech,” you shrug and poke at the food in your plate. “big deal.”

“but why?” someone asks, followed by a quick no offense to the salutatorian.

“they have more memories with the whole class,” you answer. “it didn’t feel right for me to be up on stage and give a big speech on memories and stuff. made more sense for someone who actually spent time with the class to do it.”

when you look up from your plate, you see that everyone’s mouth are wide open.

“…what?” you grimace. “did i say something wrong?”

“you’re surprisingly cool.” someone says.

their comment makes you snort. “very cool of me to do that, huh.”

someone ends up pointing at you. “you just laughed.”

chaos erupts once again.

“holy shit, she just laughed for once!”

“knock it off before i regret being here,” you give everyone a pointed look.

they all still, mumbling apologies. in the next second, everyone starts talking and taking turns to ask you questions.

surprisingly, you don’t mind the attention. you don't mind talking to your classmates like this; in fact, now there’s a tinge of sadness that settles into your chest.

you should have talked to them more.

you swear you see the person siting next to you start crying during the salutatorian's speech.

as you stand at your assigned spot, hands holding your diploma behind your back, you see the same person start to cry harder once they’re tapped out by their family, their rigid posture crumbling.

your eyes rake over what you can see: there’s people waiting to be tapped out, some are crying, some are laughing and happy. and then you see him.

zayne naturally stands out: tall and lean, a head above the shorter crowd. the sight is comical, making you puff out your cheeks in an attempt to not laugh. he stops a few steps away, takes his phone and snaps a picture of you, all the while having an arm behind his back.

“you blinked,” he hums once he stands in front of you.

you narrow your eyes slightly at him.

with a chuckle, zayne taps your shoulder, his touch warm despite the layers of your uniform that separates your skin from his. your posture relaxes, the rigidness melting away as your lips curl upwards. he brings a small bouquet of flowers, not flashy like the ones some of your classmates are receiving. a few hyacinths and irises, their blues like the color of the sky you love, held together by a white bow tied around the stems.

“congratulations, y/n.”

you take the bouquet from him, and look at him, the small smile you had now a grin. zayne’s eyes look like a light green underneath the harsh glow of the sun, much like the green hues of the gemstone aventurine, with small specks of amber in them.

he takes a step forwards, arms slowly wrapping themselves around your form. your cap almost falls off as your throw your arm around his shoulder, the bouquet clutched tightly as your free hand flies to keep your cap against your head. laughter bubbles from your chest and falls from your lips, loud and cheerful for the first time in a while.

“thank you.”

previous | masterlist | next

"And I know I've kissed you before but,

I didn't do it right,

Can I try again, try again, try again?"

Pink in the Night - Mitski

        All the way down, it burned, tasting like a Yankee candle. You lurched forward, coughing so hard you swore your eyes would pop out. The smoke stuttered out of your nose, coated your tongue in a thin film. You chased it down with a swig of alien vodka soda. When you came up for air, you were lightheaded, aching, and wheezing. Not high.

        "Thought this was supposed to be good."

        "Takes awhile."

        "Better hurry up." You took another drag, only slightly less awful than the first.

        The sun sank deeper into the horizon, a shining slit that made the sea all glittery. You watched dumbly, doobie smoking between your fingers. 

        Seb waited. The light flittered in and out with distant waves. Night creatures came alive in a soft hum. He watched as your eyes shut, as you thought of home, not of him. 

        Tight chested, he opened his mouth, "You never told me what was like, happening."

        Your eyes opened, squinting on the horizon, "I don't know, I got left down here too."

        "No, I-" Seb spluttered, he did not give a shit about what was happening on the ship, only that he was grateful to be down here, clueless with you. "I meant like with you, before this." 

        You finally looked at him, "You never heard anything?"

        He shrugged, broke the eye contact.

        You laughed, small and breathy, and his eyes were drawn back to you, "Do you ever have any idea what's going on?" You'd seen him in meetings, there physically, not mentally. He never stuck around. Always first out the door.

        He hissed out a breath, "I try to stay high enough that I don't have to."

        You took another hit, breathed out bitterly, "Must be nice."

        "Are you gonna tell me shit or just be a dick all night?" You looked glazed already, sclera rims already red, like you'd been crying. He knew you hadn't, but the sight made him say, "Sorry, that was... I'm the dick."

        You weakly sipped at the smoke, coughed, "You are." You made yourself look away at a faraway point. The future, your dreams, wants. He didn't know what those were, but he wanted to. Maybe you wanted to be a space nomad, but he'd never know if he didn't keep talking. Chipping away at your brick wall.

        "I fucked up pretty bad, huh?"

        "Yup. Pret-tee bad." Another sip and cough. "Are you sure this is gonna get me high, by the way? Just kinda feels like I'm smoking a bar of soap."

          "Come on, give it a sec, or you tryin' to kill yourself? This shit gets me high."

         "Why'd you give it to me then?" You pulled up your knees, let your cheek fall into their sandy tops. 

        His mouth opened, closed, opened, closed. You took another drag as he floundered. The taste and feel almost neutral now.

        "Cuz I'm like... I-" You were watching him. Unfocused, dim. How you had to be to talk to him. Except you weren't going after his obvious sympathy bait like his string of exes would've. 

        Another sip. You blew smoke lazily into his face. The rush he felt at first now dimly seeped up his nose. Distant responsibility made him reach out, the glowing end almost touching your fingertips. "Slow down a lil, dude."

        "You've been going all day. My turn." You grunted, brought it back up to your face, sucked hard.

        He reached out. "Seriously, slow down. I dunno what'll happen if you go that fast."

        You leaned away, "I'm fine," he leaned in. Further and further your arm went back as your body tipped backwards. He kept reaching, on his hands and knees, arm stretched. "No." You slurred, awkwardly kicking your ass back through wet sand. You tried to twist, to sneak in another drag, but he was quicker than you. His hand a shackle around your wrist, held over your head. G-joint burning down to your knuckles.

        The burning wasn't what made you tense or kick or blow your eyes wide. It was fear. 

        He took the joint back quick, let go of you quicker, muttered, "Sorry."

        You fell back onto your elbows. Wrist still tingling with the ghost of his touch, the ghost of a memory. So many hands on you. So many bad things. Mostly, the rebar, the dirty bit digging into the skin around your mouth. It was the same, just prettier now around your neck. It's twin in your brain stem. 

        You rolled up, head first, almost bumped into him. "He put a chip in my head, that's why I was mad." Your fingers wrapped around your own wrist, tracing your fingers over where he'd grabbed so you wouldn't have to look at Seb's face.

        He thought of Sebastian on his knees. Whatever that brain-thing could do to him would blow your head to slurry. "Are you serious?" Obviously you were, he tried again, "Like those guys?"

        "No." You said, somehow understanding what he meant, "Just shocks me like this thing." You smacked the centered metal heart. It stayed as still as the ship on the horizon. "Mark found out I could do hand stuff so he," you vaguely gestured, soupy-brained. Seb still understood. So concerned he didn't even giggle at 'hand stuff'. "Then he thought I was a spy for a sec and was all like," you made your voice gravely and snide, "'I'm gonna fuck you sooo hard you stop being a spy,' but I literally wasn't and-" You rubbed your fingers into your nose bridge. Voice normal, said, "Then you found me and were being a selfish dickhead and it's like, man, can I ever catch a break?"

        Huffily, "I just wanted to apologize, I literally said I was sorry in that conversation."

        You shouldn't, but you nursed the drink. Wanted to yell, but you mumbled instead, "You're lucky I'm too drunk to kick your ass right now." Going down, it tasted worse than the G. Your head only got lighter, helium-filled. 

        His voice pinched. "What? I literally did!" 

        "Yeah, that's great and all, but I had brain surgery twenty minutes before."

        Your lilting voice pissed him off. Your head on your knees. Your grip so loose on the can it looked ready to fall. So vulnerable and defenseless and somehow, you made him feel stupid by comparison. Wholly unprepared for this conversation.

        It came out hot as the next lit joint, a steady supply stuffed into the waistband of his shorts. "Literally, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? You're a bitch most-" He paused. Your head rose. Lips curled back, tongue unsheathed and ready to cut him. He put his hands up in surrender faster than you could reply, "Lemme start over."

        ***

        The video feed was grainy, zoomed all the way in from two solar systems east. The closest working camera under the empire's rule. Again, Mark watched the distant dot that was Ferr flash and expand. Once a planet, now another space fire to burn for ten thousand years. 

        In his ears, the council jabbered.

        "Sir, we've received another angle of the explosion." But it was just even grainier footage from another planetary body away.

        "Thula, see if you can get any of the backup satellites on Ferr's minor moons online." Because all the Viltrum-made tech, hell, all of the tech, had gone down. According to Kregg, it'd been down for days. It made sense they only found out about the explosion now, light could only travel so fast even through their advanced lenses. 

        What else had the empire lost? 

        Yornsil, which primarily grew grains, Rarnsick, cattle product, Goll, the second biggest farm powerhouse in the west sect. All gone.

        Footage of their implosions on even shittier camera feeds. They'd been gone longer than Ferr. Caught minutes before Ferr's much more dramatic fireball. It was coordinated. Precise. 

        "Who did this?" Mark stepped forward until his hip hit the table. Even with his soggy shorts flush to it, he couldn't see a ship, an attack. Up close, the grain was worse. 

        "The Coalition." Vidor spat on instinct. 

        "No," The words came out hot and fast like grease bubbling off a pan, "We've taken care of every nearby Coalition bunker, that's not possible. They couldn't get this close to so many of our colonies without us knowing."

        Thula nodded along, "They're cowards, but they've never taken such dispirit measures."

        Kregg's brows were held in an eternal knot. He worked the hologram from a video to an admin feed. Planets parsed into click and expand boxes. "If I send for ships to head to the east sect now for food, we can have an emergency delivery to the hungry colonies. While they do that," his words slowed but not his fingers, inputting commands quick as lightning, "We can return to Ferr. Find whomever is responsible. Reestablish control over the region. There's bound to be word and minor rebellion. We'll-"

        "Reestablish what?" Conquest floated out of the Mark flock by the door. "'S'all gone."

        Kregg switched back to the video feed, pointed out pixel-sized dots, "Some minor planets in the belt survived. We can get them back in orbit and reactivate their satellites. We'll be able to see what has happened. Whoever's responsible will have fled. Nobody fears the empire more than those who strike against it." He switched screens to the overarching 3D map of the west sect. "We must re-cement our hold." He opened the ship's pathing menu, selected the still intact model of Ferr and-

        "No," Mark said.

        Kregg's finger hovered over the button that would cancel the rest of the warpath, the next stop would be Ferr at warp speed. "Sir. Forgive me for speaking out, but we must fix this."

        "There's no salvaging that, you fucking idiot." His cold tenor took the room down five degrees. Hands slowed on data-pads, but with a sharp look, started moving again. 

        Kregg paled, "You asked who did this, they're either waiting to be crushed or left a clue. We can find them and reestablish food production-"

        "Just give me a fucking second." Mark held up his hand, and Kregg held his tongue. He tapped the controls and overtook Kregg's inputs. Back, back, back, until he was staring blankly at the 3D map again. His brain buzzed, the joy from the day torn away, leaving the taste of meat on his tongue, face still sun-warmed. Stranded in the desert again. 

        Dad would've known what to do, or at least looked like he did. Mark just stood there, catching flies. Wondering. 

        "I agree, General." Gray separated from the flock, hands locked behind his back. "However," he stopped beside Mark, face cool and uncracked, "Abandoning the warpath makes us look weak."

        Mark's discordant mind clung to Gray's words. He was after all, Mark. A Mark who actually worked with Dad, who loved him. 

        "The starving colonies are workers, loyal to the empire. We can not allow them to die." Kregg gripped the table edge so hard the metal groaned. "Lest we lose a large fraction of other lines of production. That is weakness."

         "I'm not saying we abandon them. We send in officers not stationed on this ship." Gray said.

        "And let whoever did this get away?" Kregg snapped.

        "Someone will take credit publicly, soon." Markus had seen enough villains of the week to know, terrorists loved the limelight.

        "But-"

        "If I may," Markus didn't wait for permission. Mark wouldn't like that. He had to be decisive, strong, trustworthy. "We must consider the optics, General." He slipped forward, shoring up Mark's other side. "If our enemies see the emperor's warship turn around for something as simple as this, they'll get ideas."

        Ideas that finally clicked into place in Mark's head. 

        "Ferr being destroyed is not the minor issue you're making it out to be," Kregg said. "If there is more rebellion, we stomp it out. We can send officers to finish the warpath. Ferr's destruction is a declaration of war, we must-"

        "Send in Anissa." Mark had the screen up to the short list of officers left alive. Each with a photo, name, constantly updated coordinates, vitals. Two sets of vitals were gone now. A chunk of their tiny force, gone.

        When Kregg saw that screen, all he saw were his children. Toddlers now, brats all of them. But he envisioned them as adults, working for the cause so proudly, dead. Gone. It made his chest ache. Whoever did this must be dealt with to the highest degree.

        "Excellent idea, Emperor Mark, she'll finish the warpath beautifully." Slowly, albeit without the aid of comrades, but if any battleaxe could do it, she could.

        "To Ferr." Mark selected her profile, sent a ping to her data pad. 

        Kregg's jaw dropped so stupidly that Ollie had to suppress a laugh. "Sir, we can't send a lone Viltrumite, she'll-"

        "Kregg. Shut the fuck up." It was a full-body effort not to scream. It'd be fine, Mark told himself. The birthday party would have to end early, he was being greedy, hoping for two days off. He had Markus and Gray. It'd be fine.

        Vidor, who had not been told to shut the fuck up, opened his mouth, "Isn't Anissa working the furthest north we've ever gone? She's fast, but it'll be a long time before she can get to Ferr."

        Again, Mark was pinned to the spot. The longer he went without reply, the less and less he lived up to his Father's legacy. The more he wanted to split Vidor's head in half.

        "Instead of the ship, we send members of the council." Mark heard Dad's voice in Markus'. Saw the dark circles and gray hairs and thought he was seeing a ghost. "We were advertised as the new faces of the warpath, we can upkeep it while you investigate." He let his arms come out from his sides, gestured to the others behind him. Sebastian stiff by the door, standing proud but wishing he'd rolled his shorts down. Ollie in a makeshift G-string beside him was unbothered. Grayson by the table taking it all in with eyes too interested.

        "As long as we play this carefully, rebels will only pay attention to us, not your absence." Markus looked from one council member to the next, "Ferr's and the other planet's destruction is inconsequential to the wider rebel network. They have no way of knowing what each colony constitutes. We make no waves, our optics stay the same, and Viltrum remains strong."

        The light changed from pale blue to red and tan. The map was gone but nobody had switched menus. Mark hadn't fat fingered a call to a distant officer, but a strong Viltrumite face was on the screen with a clean, flat top. Necks craned back to meet his projected eyes. Tiny, black pits that focused on a faraway point and the whole room at once.

        The old timers didn't gasp for anything but this. Hands going instructively over mouths as they had as cria before shows of surprise were trained out of them.

        "Those who are a part of the empire-" Mark had only heard the guy talk a handful of times, but his inflection was always the same. As if he was addressing a room full of people, even if it was one on one. "-and those who will be: this is a message for you."

        Mark's mind melted and solidified into the shape of his name, Thragg.

        ***

        You watched unimpressed, waiting for him to start over.

        Seb's fingers flexed around the new joint, quarter smoked. "I just-" The words he'd planned didn't come out, instead, "Shit." He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye, squinted at the ship. Had to remind himself there was only so much time to talk, to fix this instead of letting it sit and regretting it later like he had over and over again before you. Reminders didn't make him any better at talking. "I like-" You were watching him, assessing, making his chest hot and throat tight, he coughed the rest out, "Wanna know what happened but like, I won't be an asshole this time."

        It hurt, the way you considered him so skeptically. 

        You held back only in the regard that being drunk made you a terrible storyteller. Meandering on stupid details, muddying the timeline with another, "Wait, did we have sex before or after that?" He got the gist, even with all the details you left out- like the colors of the flowers in Markus's room or the grand escape plans. Trust like that didn't come with a shitty 'sorry'.

        High tide had come in, you sat through it, talking. Glittering water to the tops of your thighs, cool and clear.

        When you were done, vodka can emptied and tossed away, all he could say was, "Jesus Christ, I feel like such an asshole." As soon as he said it, he wanted to jump off a bridge. Made it about himself, again.

        "How do you think I feel?" 

        "Shitty."

        "Yeah." Your eyes wandered back to the horizon, he couldn't tell if you were trying to avoid looking at him. "But today wasn't bad. I mean, it's gonna be bad when we get back. It sounded bad, Mark's angry." You scored your fingers through sand. Making patterns that filled back up as the water pushed the grains back in, fruitless. Looking anywhere but Seb's face, pitying, as if there was anything he could do. 

        "He shouldn't be angry at you," Seb said the obvious. Robotically. Trying to get his feet back under him because God, he'd been so stupid and up his own ass. "Should be angry at like, aliens or something."

        "I know, but I'm an asshole and I can't keep my mouth shut, so we're just gonna-" You shrugged, drew another x in the sand that was washed away.

        "Instead of shocking you, he should like, get a job. Actin' like he owns you. His ass doesn't even own a bank account. If that were me, I'd not do that and give you a stupid, crazy allowance. Like, yeah babe, go buy out all the glee-glorb from those aliens- you know?" 

        Rex would've laughed full belly. You gave him a half-smirk. He'd been talking too long. Too off track. Too stupid. 

        You said, "If you were in charge, I think we'd all be dead."

        "Aww, come on, half of us would be dead, not all of us."

        Your brows rose with your slight smile. Not as big as it would've been had he not ruined everything. "Definitely all of us." His stomach twisted when you turned to the ship, "Can't believe we're doin' almost another month on that thing before we're on the ground again." It didn't matter how long you were on Viltrum's time scale, fifty hours would always be two days and change. "It's gonna be so shitty dude, I can feel it."

        "We can make it less shitty by hanging out again." He kept his face passive, like if he looked too hopeful you'd shoot him down.

        The gears turned molasses slow in your head. Maybe that space weed had done something. Made you softer at the edges, the kind of person that didn't say, "Man, fuck off," but instead, "I'd like that."

        He cracked a smile, always finding something to whine about even though you'd said exactly what he'd wanted. "Your boyfriends won't."

        A gentle wave pushed you back, pulled you forward. Legs uncrossing as you fluttered forward. "If I can deal with a shock collar, Mark can deal with me having a friend."

        Seb's jaw twitched, "You sure about that?" Another wave, another rock, uncertainty. You unanchored from the sand and drifted. "Uh? You good?"

        "I wanna go swimming." 

        The others would've stopped you or chased you into a riptide. Seb said, "Okay yeah, let's swim."

        From above, you looked like two lazy otters, more drifting than swimming. Talking about nothing in circles as the shore ebbed away. Slowly, the high sunk in like the cold to your bones. Not frostbite frigid, but to the point where everything was hard, and Seb's running commentary got less and less funny with time. You were blasted, it should be hilarious- Seb's story about skinny dipping in some Miami fiance-bro's back deck pool. Maybe it would've been funny if you weren't convinced your legs had gotten frostbite. That they weren't kicking as strongly anymore, though you saw them move. That you weren't slowly sinking. Too high and dumb to thrash.

        You were lifted out of the water like a greedy cat from a milk bowl, dripping and shivering. Your legs cycled a few seconds longer, nothing to stand or tread on. Stupidly watching the water drift further and further away, mildly convinced you'd died and your soul was ascending.

        Except angels didn't talk like, "Dude, are you greening out right now?"

        You hung from Seb's arms, doubled over, meat on a hook. Under the string of your bikini top, arms held you, pointedly not dotted with eyes and fire. Behind you, he was as warm as a hearth. If you were sober, you might've sighed, melted into him. You're not. You wrapped your legs around his and reached back, locking your arms around his neck. Tell him, "Don't drop me, holy shit."

        "Wasn't planning on it." 

        And it was three years ago.

       A new strain of shit meant for supes, Rex called the murky rocks, sold to him in a ziplock baggie. Seb took it, just to curb Rex's whining, saying, "Maybe this is the one that can actually get you high again." He'd come around after Seb's confession, for a while moping about all the drugs Seb did but never got high off.

        It didn't, but Rex projectile vomited all over the Teen Team's third-floor bathroom. Then curled in a pukey, naked ball saying, "I'm gonna fuckin' die in this place."

        Eve came in, hours later, towel slung over her shoulder. "Jesus, guys."

        Rex buried his head deeper into Seb's neck and whined. Seb said, "It's cool."

        He heard himself say it now, "It's cool." He reached for your hands around his neck. Your grip tightened, "I've got you. 'M not gonna drop ya, just gonna make you more comfortable."

        You let him awkwardly puppeteer you. One arm cradling your back, the other under the bend of your knees. Your arms stayed around his neck, just looser, more like a scarf than bike lock. Your breathing evened out, but the goose flesh didn't go. Finally, you leaned into him, sucking as much warmth from his bare chest as possible. "Thanks for not..."

        "Being a dick? First time for me, I know." His laugh shook you a little. "I used to get super paranoid whenever I smoked."

        "And now?" Head on his shoulder, you could smell the smoke stuck on his skin. Sweeter than it tasted.

        His head shifted down. Sunglasses canted down his nose, revealing red rimmed eyes, "Chills me out now. I am like, so zen right now." Under the burgeoning moon, his hair was silver. "Probably the most I've been in awhile."

        "Is that why you finally talked to me?" Under your ear, his heart picked up.

        "What? No." He scoffed, "I just like to smoke." 

        Your eyes, twin to his, crinkled as you smiled. "You're so full of shit."

         He looked away, hot faced. "I'm not- Whoa." He turned his body, pointed you toward a bioluminescent bloom on the horizon. "Do you see that?"

        "I shouldn't let you change the subject, but, yeah, I see it."

        Half a minute later, you were hovering over a nightly migration to the surface. Coiled tendrils hung off translucent bodies, skin transparent, glowing cyan shining through. Their organs were delicate, working glass. Catching food or oxygen or moonlight, lazy as could be. More kept coming from the depths, their population stretched out in loose pockets for miles, islands of blue. 

        Seb lowered until his legs were radioactive blue. "I don't think I'll ever get used to other aliens."

        A thick thread of a body passed below, smooth flesh skirting out of the water. More of them splashing to the surface as they competed for moonlight. "I don't think I will either." You tried to hike yourself higher on his chest.

        "It's not gonna try to eat us. Trust me, a ton of shit's tried to eat me before, nine outta ten times it's not a weird jellyfish." He reached out with his toe, touching one. Instantly, it jerked away and zipped into the black. "Yeah, it's not hungry." He retracted.

        The blank space was filled moments after with smaller, drifting creatures. "Don't scare the rest of I wanna see 'em. View's pretty."

        "Yeah." In his arms, you were all cool colors. Each one of your fingers threaded behind his nape, hairs pulling between your knuckles. He didn't care. Just wanted more of you posed in his hold, where he could feel the loosening and tightening of your muscles, know how you were feeling without words. You knew too, could hear how he felt. "It is." He wasn't looking at the water.

        For a long time, you were one shadow over the sea. 

       "If I could," he started when the moon was another inch higher and he couldn't take another second of you not saying something back, "I'd live in a beach house and see stuff like this every night." He'd never thought that before, but it wasn't a lie. The longer the words sat, the more real it became. Board shorts every day, mimosas, wooden painted placards that said 'beach babes only', no other dickheads, just you, him, and a million flamingo floaty toys.

        You turned to him, hand out, sun out, smiling but said in a voice that only came out with exhaust and space weed, "For such a big beach dude, you didn't swim a lot today." 

        He blinked, and it was night and he knew he couldn't have it. "Didn't want Sebastian to maul me again for lookin' at you." He snapped. Under your hand, his body was a rubber band about to break. It twitched, shuddered, forced itself to loosen, "I'm..." He cleared his throat, made his voice softer, "Sorry for all the shit I said."

        He would've felt vindicated if, after fellatio, Mark had found him and skinned him alive. Instead, he got housework, shitty jobs, jabbing. Slaps on the wrist that made Dad look like a saint. The longer it went on, the stupider he'd known he'd been. The lonelier. Sorry, didn't feel like enough. You seemed to think the same thing, regarding him quietly.

        "I uh- rocked Sebastian's shit pretty hard earlier. Dunno if you saw his teeth."

        "I did."

        "That was uh- That was for you." God, he felt like Rex feeding girls lines. "And me!" Seb blurted, "He was staring at me with this insane boner. I didn't even know our dick could get that hard. It was really gross. So I was like, 'hey stop having that boner', and punched him cuz he was being..." Musing about Sebastian's fantasies was deeply uncool, he realized, "Think if we got into another real fight, I'd take his ass down."

        Your arms tightened around his neck, "I'd help if I could."

        "You could hit him with a volleyball?"

          You both laughed. Ending when you said, "I'm more worried about Mark. If he finds us like this... I dunno, you kinda had a point even if you were being a huge asshole."

      "Mark? Psssh. That guy'll make me fold laundry. Trust me, I can handle him." 

        "I dunno. He's only really gotten cool with Markus and Gray recently-"

        "Excuse me? Since when?" Honestly, he'd thought Sebastian was full of shit. "Are you guys like, what's the four version of a throuple?"

        "We're not-" You scoffed, but you still smiled, "I mean, kinda? It's weird. Mark is super weird."

        Seb laughed, threw his head back to the night sky. The one he waxed poetic about running away to. The stars and a friend was all he needed to lose himself and his tongue, "Dude, you are such a slut it's awesome." His head and heart dropped. Why did he just say that?

        "Okay, one, fuck you." Under you, he cringed, "Two, you should'a seen me in high school." He relaxed.

        He gaped, stupidly, but the words came out, easy and natural, "Really?" With a reluctant smile.

        "No, after the breakup, I got like, zero play for years." You shrugged, "This is the most I've actually dated in forever. Being a slut is kinda awesome if I don't think about the whole evil empire part."

        He let out a long breath, "Dude, dating is such bullshit. Being a slut is where it's at."

        "And you know that because?"

        "I'm like, the world's biggest slut." You giggled, he continued, "Swear to God, I've got like seven kids." 

       "What." Your smile was gone, maybe that wasn't the funny joke he thought it was. He had to back track.

        "Not on purpose, but dude, when my Dad gave me the talk? He was like," his impression was so far off from what you knew from Nolan, but still felt right, "'Never cum in a girl or she will get mega pregnant. Condoms and IUD's and sixteen rounds of plan B won't do shit against our superior sperm.' Mind you, I'm like eight. So, I get older, I start fuckin'. I'm wearin' rubbers, I'm like 'ya got birth control,' but dude, I am so bad about not nutting in people. I gave all those girls I hooked up with the wrong number, and I was strategic, okay? I flew around a lot. I never hit the same town twice. Like, statistically, I've gotta be a Dad." 

        You'd heard a lot of fucked up shit working for Machine Head but this made top of the list. "And you never went back to check?"

        He sucked on his lips, "What would I say? Hey, we fucked six months ago, just making sure you're not pregnant?"

        "I mean, yeah? Or maybe lead with the fact condoms don't work."

        "Look- look-" He was losing you. "It's like Schrodinger's baby, okay? Also, Dad was probably doing that parent thing where they lie like 'if you have sex your dick's gonna fall off and you're gonna die.'" 

        You made a face. "I think you're the first absent father version of Mark Grayson."

        Breath came out hard against your forehead, "What would you know about absent fathers?"

        Just to wipe the look off his face, "Enough."

        There's a standstill. A no-man's-land of things to say. Vulnerabilities to share. So soon. Too soon. 

        Seb held up a white flag, "Okay, okay, let's not go there." Not now. Not when thinking about Dad made him insufferable. Later. There would always be later.

        The jellies kept floating on. They would until the sun came up and their predators came out. Over and over, with you here or not.

        "Wanna go smoke some more?" You asked. "Or will it kill me?"

        He turned for the shore, a slim line in the distance, "Viltrum Google said you should be fine up to like, thirty ounces. I think that's a lot. Just pace yourself and like, maybe don't drink anymore."

        "Who are you, Markus?" 

        "Nah, nah, just don't want you to OD. Silly me."

        "Wait, did you... research if I could smoke with you or not?"

        He sped over the water, turning it to blue-black stripes. "What? I can't hear you over all the wind." 

        ***

        "The Hybrid Mutt that sits on my throne and calls himself the Emperor has failed you," Thragg said, loud and proud over the speaker system. Drowning out all the sound in the room. "Once, I tried to guide him. In return, he graciously attempted to assassinate me. He failed, like he so often does."

        In the sliver of space behind Thragg's massive head and collarbone, there was gold and lavender. A wall or throne, too close to tell. No distinct details, no servants, no neon sign that said 'projecting from here' with a list of coordinates. Purposeful, down to how little of his bronze chest plate he let show.

        "The Mutt's forces are spread thin and ill-equipped. I was able to easily infiltrate planets under his protection. Not a soul came to defend them, and those who were there posed no threat. Anyone competent enough to run the empire would not have made it such." 

        Lucan and Thula were scrambling to get a signal trace, but it'd be no use. Thragg knew the empire like the back of his gnarled hand, he wouldn't let himself be caught by not encrypting the feed.

        "The western sector of the galaxy shall starve due to his incompetence. Nobody will come for you. Help is simply too far and too busy. The Mutt is close, but he will not come. He will let you die under his leadership before he steps down to allow mine. Remember, as so many of you starve, under my rule there would be no such weak points, even if I were to ever again be absent."

        Mark was a teenager again. Body buzzing with power, pushed to the limit like never before. Dad dead. Mom dead. A universe promised to him, but that red-loving asshole wouldn't move off his throne. Looking down his nose, saying, "You're not ready." 

        The council had been shooed away. To protest in a later meeting where Thragg would lie to them all.

        "The fuck do you mean I'm not ready? I killed the Emperor, shit lips."

        "Precisely." Thragg said, "You are foolhardy and quick to anger. Your humanity has made you weak. You need at least a thousand years of training before you can even begin to-"

        "Are you forgetting the part where you fuckin' told him to kill me for the throne and I killed him instead?"

        Mark gaped, past and present. Swears thick in his throat, blocking each other from bubbling out. His fists clenching, his chest tightening. Thragg's bullshit unending. "The only Viltrumite trait The Mutt has is resilience. He will run you into the ground. My returned rule will save you from that suffering."

        "Cut-" Kregg spluttered, "Cut the universal feed!"

        "I'm trying." Vidor's fingers were blurs, but accomplishing nothing. Grayson tapped away but knew, this guy was good. Better than him. Grander. The best possible thing. A distraction.

        "I come for the heart of the Empire. Prepare."

        Blue projected topology returned. Everyone stared like fish at the map, his sudden departure leaving a red smear on all their retinas. Fingers halted. They could pretend to look, make sounds to draw Mark's attention onto them, but nobody wanted that. Not when his teeth were bared and grinding.

        The silence went on, thick and forever. Until Mark let out half a laugh, mouth stretching into a pale, lipless smile, "Hey, Kregg?"

        ***

        You shivered, even in the shawl. Legs tucked under you, sat on the sand just outside of the tide's reach. You could've gone inland to the tents, but you wanted to stay. Suffer in cold for the pretty view. 

        "D'ya want me to start a fire or somethin'?" Seb came from behind, shaking sand off Sebastian's unused towel. 

         "N-no, I'm fine." You shook, pulled the shawl tighter over your shoulders. 

        Seb knelt, "Don't look like it." He wrapped the towel like a cotton blanket around you. Hugging it closed while he tried to tie a knot to secure it.

        Instant relief was his skin through layers. "Holy shit, you're hot." You leaned into his warmth. 

        "I've been told."

        "Shut up and hold me before I freeze."

        Seb dropped to his ass and let you practically crawl onto his lap. Shift this way and that, push him around until you were comfortable. He felt more like a cat bed than a person. But he didn't tell you to stop because you were leaning against his chest, all hunched up in a towel, his arms snug over your sides.

        You yawned, burrowed deeper into him, "I could fall asleep like this." Warm and pleasantly light headed.

        "Should probably wait till you're in bed." He pulled another doobie from his waistband. The umpteenth of the day, but he still never got as sky high as he did before the powers.

        Your lids were heavy with exhaust and drink but you kept them open, "All things considered, it's a nice bed."

        "Gotta be better than mine. Shit's like a brick." Seb said, "But man, is it a brick I can not stop going back to." He stopped himself from feeding you a line. Pivoted, made himself broody, not the kind of guy who flirts after the friend de-breakup. The ship hadn't moved, though the moon had risen inches higher. "We're really goin' back to that super shitty brick." 

        "You got to stop calling everything a brick but," another sigh, this time bone tired, "yeah. We are going back on the shit brick."

        He cracked a complimentary smirk, "I mean, at least you've got friends to get you through the shit brick." 

        "God, please stop."

        He mumbled, blunt between his lips. "You're doing it too." He struck it, smacked your face with hot wind.

        "Cuz you're-" You shook your head, "Whatever. The others aren't really my friends." All of them fell somewhere on the kidnapper to strange boytoy scale. Cool as some of them were, you'd never gotten the chance to just piss around with them. To ever be anything other than pre-labeled as theirs. "You are."

        That struck him like a- Seb laughed to himself a moment to keep from feeling the impact. The violent shattering of his persona when your eyes were soft on him. Vulnerable and so easy to get sucked into. He saw possibilities. Good ones but mostly bad, ones where you were dead and he was burned again, fucking it up for himself like he always did.

        He sucked in, out, smoke blown away from you. "Just friends?" Came out in a sultry tone before he could think. Easy to slip into like an old pair of shoes. Easier than saying how he really felt. 

        Your face fell. Familiar. Like all the other girls before, realizing he was shallow as a tide pool. You knew better. Had seen beyond the walls. He told himself you couldn't get past it with compliments, not cursing, or insulting, or picks or hammers. That you wouldn't push and let him be comfortable in fuckboy-isms. Assume his vulnerability was a white whale and never hunt it down. 

        You pushed, of course you did, "You know, I thought maybe you were just an asshole because we were starving to death, but you're just like this, huh?"

        Seb shifted, felt sand move under the towel. "I was definitely worse out there." He still dreamed of sand, sun, skin so dry it cracked blood for him to lick. Everytime he woke he had to make sure it was gone. Not a grain between his toes.

         "I dunno. I can't stop thinking about that place, so I try to think about the good parts, like listening to music with you or listening to you bitch about your hammock." You might as well have strapped TNT to him and let it blow.

        For once, he didn't lazily smirk or roll his eyes or force nonchalance. His lips dumbly dropped, brows making waves on his forehead. "It was a nice hammock."

        You chuckled, "No, it wasn't."

        "Yeah," his smile returned, but it was genuine without a forced cocky tilt, "it was kinda terrible." 

        Into his oozing heart space, you said, "I miss being your friend." Your head thunked against his shoulder. "Even if you're an asshole."

        Could you hear his heart through the layers? Did you know how it skipped? Did he even have to say it now?

        Without his mouth locked in check, it moved on its own, "With benefits?"

        You sighed, deep and full-bodied, "Oh my God, dude. The benefit is getting to talk to me again." It was a joke that came out nippy. Voice hard like you were going to leave. Fine, leave like Eve through the roof. He'd help, he'd knock you down a peg. You weren't all that, you were- You were. 

        Seb pulled his lips in and sucked them raw. Kept them there while his brain broiled over with all the worst things. It'd be so easy to say. So easy to push you away and never feel so exposed again. To run.

        Your head lifted, "What?" 

        He let his lips open, "Nothing."

        Your brow knotted, "You sure?"

        On your back, his hand fluttered back and forth, batting something invisible away, "Nah, nah, I'm try'na be nice."

        "Trying to be?" You asked, testily.

        You'd leave him in the dust without a second chance. Be with someone else, someone better. You could have a better man like that. If he were less selfish, he'd tell you that. Bravery was a theme tonight, but he'd never have balls that brassy.

        He bit his tongue till it throbbed, and he was sure he wouldn't say something stupid. Tongue thick, he said, "Just like... ignore the last few minutes. Ya'know? I'm trying really hard not to be a dick."

        Under his hands and the towel, your body and mouth eased. "Look at you, caring."

        "Of course I care, I like you." He went white. "L-like I care about you, ya'know?"

        ***

        "Why isn't he dead?" Mark's face was bloodless white. Tight and ghastly.

        Sweat beaded on Kregg's back. "I- I'm unsure, Sir."

        "Really? Cuz you were the one that told me a Viltrumite couldn't survive a shot to the heart." The light of the map did little to soften Mark's coal-hard glare. 

        Kregg's throat tightened but he kept his voice strong. "We can't."

       "That’s interesting, because the guy whose heart I literally punched a hole through was just on my screen, saying he was going to take over my empire." Snarled through a wall of teeth.

        None of them had seen Mark so hard, so like his Father could be since she died. Even then, he was softer than this. Mopey and always on the verge of meltdown. Now the air around him chilled.

        "It's not possible." Every word Kregg used was a waste of breath he felt like he couldn't get back, "The cold and blood loss would have sent him into hibernation; he would've asphyxiated in space."

        "The motherfucker didn't asphyxiate." Mark moved behind Gray, slow, steady. Body buzzing with sudden energy that needed to be released in one sure strike over Kregg's throat. "Why is that?"

        Kregg saw death coming in swim shorts and didn't move. Certainly, the emperor would not act so rashly. "I am not sure, Sir."

        "You keep saying that." Mark's arm came down to his side. Elbow and shoulder locked, palm a flat, blunt blade. "Is it cuz you want to pretend to die with honor? Dunno how Thragg's alive, my ass, you told me that was the best way to dispose of him. Who'd you have waitin' out there to fix 'im up? Thaedus?"

        The emperor was not his father, he could and would act rashly. Kregg would not stoop to backing away. "I am no Thaedus." Mark came closer, would rush forward any moment. "I would not betray the empire for something as foolish as an old ally."

        Mark raised his arm, "You must think I'm stupid if you-"

      "Emperor Mark." Markus. "If General Kregg was part of Thragg's plans, the empire would've already been lost."

        Mark spun on his heels, primed with violence, ready to snap, "Then how is he alive?"

        Markus spoke with cool authority, "The spy on the observation deck may have had a hand. Perhaps there are others on this ship, but I do not believe it is anybody in this room." Mark's eyes shifted, impossibly toward Ka-Thala, to you. "Or anyone close to us. There are many cameras on the ship. Many opportunities to catch suspicious behavior, and nobody significant has exhibited any. A wider investigation can be launched after we figure out our next steps."

        If anybody thought to check Grayson's vitals, they'd see his heart rate hammering like he'd just won a battle. So different from his mask of a face. Sebastian wore it worse, a scowl like he'd already been caught out. But like before, nobody paid him any mind.

        Mark looked for deceit in Markus's face. For secrets. For a ship sent out under his nose, though he'd never met Thragg. He found nothing but his Mother's brown eyes. Mom had been a liar too, she'd known. That's why she had to die too. Markus couldn't possibly know. Mark let his arm drop.

        "Sir," Kregg spoke to Mark's concrete back, "we must decide a course of action immediately. I still suggest emergency rations but we can also-"

        The laugh came out Mark's throat, not his belly, not with any real joy, just acidic mockery. "I was going to kill you, and all you care about is food."

        "I'm just trying to remain useful, Sir." While the rest of the council stayed quiet, still as statues. Biding their time until Mark was more malleable. 

        More laughter with mimed chest shakes and a wiped tear that wasn't there. "When was the last time you did anything useful, Kregg?"

        ***

        The tide continued to climb higher up, the sand lapping once again at Seb's heels. He could sink into the ocean, curl in a ball, but then he'd have to leave you, and you'd start to shiver again.

        He was teetering on a familiar edge. 

        Nine months, that's all Dad gave him to train for takeover. Of course, he ran, and of course, he told Rex. Of course, Rex didn't believe him, but followed him to Queens anyway. Assumed it was just his parents' impending divorce weighing on him. Assumed it was Seb's roundabout way of finally making a move. Solidifying the wispy thing they had in his usual avoidant way.

        Living together was fun and stupid and filthy. Cheap rent, lots of roaches, but none of Cecil's microphones or Eve's drug flushing. They couldn't work with the team anymore, Seb was in hiding from his Dad, and Rex didn't want to leave him. They curbed questions from Eve via text, "We just wanted to strike out on our own a little," and "No, we're not like, dating." Nobody asked the right questions. Everything went on as normal. It was hard to believe that it'd really happen.

        But it did.

       Dad killed the first billion as spring came around. Killed Cecil Stedman and his cronies, everyone who was left skittered underground. He found Seb in Rex's pajamas beside the man himself, trying to keep the people of New York safe. 

        Seb's fists whitened at the sight of him. Knowing it was time to take responsibility. Like any good father, Nolan had some leniency in him, "Don't look at me like that. You're not as good at hiding things as you think you are" He hadn't cared before. A human son was nothing to watch over, but a Viltrumite boy needed monitoring. "If you do your job like you're told, I'll let you keep the pet." Just like he planned to keep Mom. Didn't matter what her human divorce papers said, she didn't have a choice. Neither did Seb.

        Rex sneered, "No fuckin' way, m-" Dad had him by the throat, high in the sky, where he wouldn't survive if Dad let go. 

        Seb shot up, screaming, "No! Please! He'll listen, Dad, stop!"

        Just because of that keening obedience, that desperation that even breaking Seb's ribs didn't bring out in him- Dad shoved Rex into Seb's arms. Said, "Keep your pet in line and stay out of my way."

        He nodded, empathically but said nothing. 

        Then Dad was gone. Rex heaved, "There's not a divorce, is there?"

        "No, there is, but there's this too."

        "Awesome."

        They watched Dad plow through the city. Cut heroes in half, heroes better trained than them, smarter, stronger. And they let it happen, watching from Burger Mart LLC's rooftop.

        "Is there... anything we can do at all?" Rex spoke quietly, like he'd wake the fresh dead.

        "The people who could've done something are dead." He flew them in silence back to Queens.

        Dad made it clear, their end of the work started soon; once Dad had a few thousand fertile humans set aside for breeding. More than enough to go around for the Viltrumites when they came. They were on the way. Expected Earth to be tamed when they touched down.

        They tried to listen, to tame the masses and their own instincts to run. Turn their brains off, but when Seb killed Shape Smith, reality set in.

        "What the fuck, dude?!" 

        Seb pulled his fist out of green goop. Shape Smith fell in a wet heap. "You heard my Dad. We gotta do it or he's gonna kill us too."

        Rex went quiet. No quips could cover the fact that Seb was right. And God, he didn't want to die young. 

        City scraps with dudes in latex was fun, this was slaughter.

        But at least Rex got to live. To help. To suffer with him in killing the people he swore to defend. They whittled slowly through the population. Seb flying them city to city, nation to nation, slow enough so Rex's skin didn't burn off. Dad called them pathetic, said the empire ships would be here soon. That they wouldn't be happy to do the rest of Seb's work. 

        In what little way he could, Seb resisted. Went slower. Slept his full eight hours holed up in the Teen Team's desolate tower with Rex. The apartment crumbled in one of Dad's first raids. So they had to move back to their old abandoned home. It still smelled like Robot's grease and Kate's perfume.

        Garbage piled up. The water didn't work anymore. It rank like a fox den without Eve to clean everything down to the atom. They missed Eve, but at least she got away. If they never saw her again, she'd get to live, and they hoped it stayed that way.

        Through the grapevine of desperate pleas from people about to die, they learned about the resistance underground. They took the fight to the metros. Collapsing tunnels while Rex quipped at the few supes left, "Sorry man, I gotta free ride. You know how it is!" His laugh was forced. Everything now, was forced.

        Weeks passed. The empire grew closer. The population smaller.

        Rex's room caved in. They slept in the living room now.

        Staring at the ceiling, Rex said, "If you just let me go, I could join them. I could help. Let them come. They trust you, turn on the motherfuckers. We could-"

        Seb's tooth had grown back, but his gums still throbbed in memory. He hadn't used the time to train like he should have. "We won't win."

        Rex's shoulders drooped. "We gotta try."

        "The Guardians tried. Dad killed 'em."

        "Your dad...?"

        "Yeah. It was him. Best they did to him was break his ribs. We've got no chance."

        Rex went to the other side of the couch with the only clean-ish blanket, he turned toward the cushions, buried his nose in the cracks to try and hide from their reality. A piece of roof crumbled down behind them. The sight of his back, more than anything, pissed Seb off.

        "Don't just lay there." No response. "Jesus fucking Christ, don't be such a pussy! Dad says the empire's gonna make it better! They're gonna fix all the pollution and war and crap." He said it more to himself as mantra, a comfort, easy. They both knew he didn't give a fuck about carbon emissions.

        "Do you even know how to spell pollution, dude?"

        "Look, we're doing what we have to, to survive." 

        "We killed my girlfriend, Seb." The rebound since Eve still wouldn't get back with him. She never would now. Rex should've been happy. Living alone with the person he wanted. No girls to make each other jealous with. But this just sucked. Rex thought he got away from killing when he escaped the lab all those years ago. Told himself he could handle it again, but it just made him feel like a miserable kid.

        "Rae was trying to kill us!"Along with Robot and Kate and Immortal and all those other assholes who got away from Omni-Man in the first assault. Who were somehow stupider than Rex Splode for once in their lives. "Probably cuz you ghosted her for months to be with me." There was a beat of a quiet honesty, then, "You didn't even like her that much!"

        "I liked her enough!" 

        "Then why'd you fuck me while you were with her!?" Jerking off in the same room, knee to knee was one thing. It was a guy thing, he could brush off. The shower was different.

        Rex turned. For a second, soft-faced, surprised. "So now you wanna talk about it?" He waited for Seb to say more but the words got stuck. Seb flew out a tarped over window. He blasted apart Lithuania that night.

        When he came back, the tower was dark, sunrise on the way. Rex was still lying there. Seb laid behind him, heard his heartbeat, knew he was awake, but said nothing and slipped into sleep.

        The next day, "You got blood on me." Rex uselessly batted at himself with a hand towel. They were always caked in it somewhere. Dad said they could wash on the ship whenever it came. "God, fucking-" He swore to himself in broken Spanish. He never could speak it, but he liked the sound of the words. Liked to seem a little less like a no sabo- even if just to Seb.

        Maybe because it was a bad time and Seb needed to purge, maybe because he could sense the atoms shifting, "Hey uhm... I think I like..." Rex stopped, rose his brow, the slit usually carved in had grown back. He didn't look like himself without it but God, did that look make Seb's stomach churn."I'm not but like... I just, with everything we've been through and that stuff we've done I..."

        "Are you fucking serious right now, Seb?" Rex said as the ceiling blew wide open. 

        He tried to tell himself in years past that was a confession. That he wasn't a pussy. That he was a man and the only person with a brain to do what had to be done because fighting back would only cause more hurt. He told himself and told himself until the words fell apart. He didn't want to lie anymore, even to himself, even though it felt better.

        "So you like me now, huh?" You asked, and when he didn't answer, "I can't ignore the last few minutes if you don't talk."

        His heart hadn't given him the easy way out. Take initiative, he told himself, like he'd been telling himself all day, stop being such a pussy, just say it.

        "Dude, I've always liked you, come on." He said.

        "Really? I haven't been able to tell."

        "Well, I just- You know. You can't be soft around a bunch'a dudes. They're dudes 'n' shit."

        "They're literally you."

        "Tch, dude, that makes it worse. Cuz they know my shit."

        "I dunno if they do." You said, "You didn't go murder a billion people to like, own me. So ya'know, the bar is in hell, but you're different." 

        "Thanks?" Accepting kindness made him shiver like he'd break into hives, he said, "I did kill-"

        "Shut up, oh my God."

        He did, for all of two seconds. Because talking soothed the hives, "I'm too high for this shit, man."

        "I thought that was part'a the plan, man." You bumped him with your head. "Get high and like, apologize to me or whatever."

       "Well, I mean, I've been thinking about you," and when your eyes met, "like stuff, a lot." Under your weight he wanted to squirm and wanted never to be not under it again. "I dunno how this is gonna go, I mean, the last person I was with, he-" 

        For all his "I always find out" attitude, Dad never knew. Mom knew less. William had an inkling that Seb shut down as meanly as he could. Rex knew. Knew the hardness of Seb sliding against him, shaft to shaft, that one post mission where Dad almost saw him and figured it all out. Dirty, they hit the showers together. Laughing until there was only quiet breath and hot shower spray. Rex had Seb against the stall wall. The hardest he'd ever been and quivering in Rex's hand, holding their hard-ons together. He remembered moaning like a girl, throwing his head back, and exposing his jugular. Rex sucked his neck as he came.

        After, they microwaved pizza pockets and invited Eve and Rae to watch shitty B-movies. They joined, shit talking (while Seb navigated a pirating site because he was on nobody's payroll) Kate and Immortal because "God, talk about dating the worst dude ever," Rex said with his arm over Rae's shoulder. They were a thing, tumultuous, temporary, but Rex liked her enough after she saved him from almost getting shot in the head by King Lizard.

        Seb didn't look at him all night, even when Rex cued him to talk. He didn't tell Rae either but she, like Eve, would wise up to some form of cheating eventually. Wasn't his fault her boyfriend was a- 

        Oliver had told him he shouldn't say it, "like that." Oliver told him a lot of things. Things that recontextualized so much but changed nothing. Oliver said he remembered feeling "that way when I was a kid," like he was Seb's older brother. Seb never admitted it, but Oliver knew, in a quiet way from the very start. 

        There was a disgusting relief in Seb that the only person who knew was gone. He hated himself for it one second, comforted in the next. 

        And now you knew too. He wanted to explode.

        The blunt burned down but he didn't breathe in. You reached up, plucked it easily away, and closed your mouth over the wet end, tasting vaguely of his mouth. "My ex-girlfriend hated me so much that she wanted to kill me. I get it. But if you're trying to confess your undying love to me while I'm so high I think I'm gonna puke? Don't." You took a drag.

        You wouldn't hold it over his head. Tell the others. Like Oliver, you'd been through the same wringer. It made it easier to pick his jaw up off his collarbone, "I didn't say anything about love. Is it weird that I just like, like you? Also, if you don't wanna puke, don't smoke?"

        "Oh, so you like-like me now? Woooow. I thought you were better than the rest of them." You could barely remember the first time you met through the haze of violence and concentration on the others. You were both an afterthought to the other and now you were this. Whatever this was.

     You had moved on quick, like the bomb he dropped was a dud. He followed your play, "Well, 's not just me. Gotta be a reason all of us are so... ya'know." Dad believed in destiny, Seb didn't. 

        "Mhm." You ruminated, fire between your fingers splayed over your chin.

        "'S not just us. You like me cuz I'm Mark." He said because it was easy. That way, if you rejected him, he could find comfort in being even more othered. 

        You laughed smoke, "It's so fucked up to hear you call yourself Mark." It blew into his eyes. For a moment, he saw you in ashy tones. Battle worn, older, tired. Mark's girl. Not his. He blinked it away, pulled you closer with his arm around your back.

        He laughed too, "It's fucked up to say it."

        You let the blunt hang loose. Head rising and turning, towel sleuthing into a hood around your shoulders. Something funny to say, but you lost it in the silver of his face. The crease of his smile into his sharp cheek. 

        "I like you cuz you're Seb." You looked at his lips, then his eyes, gray in the night, back to his lips, eyes, lips. Hypnotized into leaning in. He was ready for you, head tilted, lips parted. You slotted together like puzzle pieces. Then you were moving, after a pause, he's chasing, hand on your jaw.  

        One swipe of a tongue, his or yours, there was no telling who, and you were both yawning open. Slippery tips greeting each other. The taste of cake overpowered by the curling sweetness of smoke. Like this, you're the one chasing. Trying to keep up while your body unwound from the fabric turtle shell. Only when your thighs caged his, towel on your back like a cape, did he pull away.

        "Wait," he said cheeks purple and ears more purple in the dark, "you're not gonna puke on me, right?"

        "That was a joke, asshole." Before he could rebuke, you kissed him again. His palms reposition, slid over your bare skin, bunching over your hips. Your arms made themselves snug around his neck. You flicked the encroaching heat of the blunt away to sizzle out in the sand.

        He careened away, "Shit, wait, you're not like, too high right? You're not gonna regret this tomorrow?"

        You plucked his sunglasses off his face- they'd been digging into you. "Mmm, probably gonna regret it."

        "Then why-"

         You tossed them away. "Oh my God, just kiss me."

        He required no more coaxing than that. Was easy under your teeth, biting his bottom lip. Gasped readily enough as his hands wandered up your sides. You could've gone all night if he didn't break away, again. "I really missed you," and he was back against your mouth. 

        "I could tell." By the pressure, hot against your thigh crease. It rose easily, without grinding or petting.

        "I mean it, fuck, I was so bored." He said. You laughed. Teeth ran over your lip, nipped and pulled, and let the flesh snap back to place. "This is the part where you say 'Oh Seb, I missed you more cuz you're so hot and cool and fun to hang out with.'"

        "You're not bad." You fisted his hair and shut him up. Not really, he moaned. An acted porn star sound real people didn't make. You got the truth out of him when you canted your hips. His breath hitched.

        "I-" He swallowed back a groan as you tugged at his hair again, trying to get his tongue back into your mouth, "I feel shitty about leaving you hanging last time. Can I..." His palm rolled a warm path from your side to the dip of your inner thigh.

        "Mmm, I dunno." You chuckled, he twitched in his shorts. "You did call me a slut."

        "I'm the slut." His fingers flexed, "So I need it."

        "Mmm."

        "C'mon, please?"

        "Better make it good, slut."

        He shuddered, "I can do that." The fabric slid easily to the side. Seb wasted no time sliding his hand down and back. Feeling the gathering of magma hot slick on his callouses. He pulled his hand back and groaned, his skin shone in the moonlight. Stupidly, breathlessly, "Fuck, you're wet."

        "I've been swimming." You rolled up his fingers, grinding into his palm.

        He scoffed, "Man, come on, you know it feels different."

        "Does it?" You challenged.

        Seb slid a finger in to the knuckle. You folded and gasped a curse into his neck, cunt throbbing around him. "Yeah, it does." It took all of two strokes for him to zero in on your g-spot. Press and grind into it enough to make you squirm and lose that annoying domineering tone. "There you go." He slotted another finger inside as your hips started to move. Your lips latched to his neck.

        The idea of a hickey was nice, but conveniently absent in Seb's life. All he wanted now was for your sucking and biting to make his throat purple and stinging. "That's not gonna do anything."

        "C'mon, let me try." You ground hips and teeth, made him trill. Made his hips twitch and slap his hand deeper into you. Made his cock grind to your hip, maddeningly clothed. You reached down, and he scrambled to free himself for you.

        In your palm, he was twitching and hot. Gooey on top, easy to lube, easy to work your hand over. Again, he's held in place, not by human power, but by a sticky mix of pleasure and affection. All he could do was moan.

        "Fuck, you are a slut." You laughed, squeezed around him, kept on using him. His cock strained.

        He kissed your chest. Nosed the slip of bikini out his way and took your nipple into his mouth. Bobbing his head as he sucked, so well trained. "I wanna fuck you so bad." He slurred around the bud.

        "Then fuck me." Was like a switch flipped.

        Your back hit the towel. Legs spread, body thrumming. Seb dragged you down by the hips. Smiled so charmingly when you gasped, the weight of his cock heavy over your hole. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He angled back, pushed his weepy head into your weepier cunt.

        "Warn me? What the fuck does that even me-eeeeaaan?" Hips clapped into yours. Stretched you wall to wall, all at once. You twitched and mewled, tightening so sweetly around him, but he didn't move. Chuckling as you melted stupid into the towel, body adjusting quick, like it was made for him.

        "Been awhile, think you forgot."

        The first thrust was a slow victory lap. Together again at last, his body seemed to say as it bore down. At last, your body replied in a tremor. The second was sloppier, needier. If he could have this all night, he didn't want any of it to be boring. Think of me, his body demanded as his cock slid in, out, in, out. Yours replied in turn, revealing the rest of itself with moved bikini strips.

        Heels stabbed into his ass. Legs hugged him down, kept him deep. He wanted to slam, you wanted to bury. "Fuck me," you chanted, "fuck me." As empress to be, you had more say.

        He laid nearly atop you, pressing chest to chest, lip to lip. Mouths struggled to stay together with the constant motion. Making it easy for him to ramble, "Fuck- nnnhgg- I missed this, holy shit, you feel so good." 

        You scrambled for purchase on his back. Every slap of your bodies knocked a little more air, a little more of your mind out of you. You tried to get him back in cat scratches but none of them would show. He groaned in appreciation anyway, spurred you on with a, "Yeah? You like that?"

        "Of course I do, dumbass- haaahh, fuck!" 

        He smiled, hair falling out it's gelled shape and tickling your forehead. "No need to get hostile."

        "Stop playing around and- oh God!" Your eyes were forced to the back of your skull. Hammered in place over and over by his driving cock.

        "'s not my name." It felt too good. No faked affection between you. Just want and the will to take. 

        You squeezed around him. "Seb!" His stomach flipped. His cock pulsed. He moaned, pushed himself to the hilt. You took him all. So good, too good. If you came this quick, he'd be annoying about it forever. You had to hold it together, get in control.

        You managed to speak, "Roll over." 

        "What?"

        "Roll over."

        Seb's eyes glinted. Mischievous. Knowing. He slid out just to bear down, fill you up, grind his pelvis to your clit. "Look whose gonna cum too fast now."

       From the deepest reserves of will, you said in even a tone you could muster, "If you don't roll over right now, I'm gonna-" You arched, moaning.

        "Gonna cum?" He teased.

        "Gonna tell you all the weird kinks the others got. Feel like awakening something in yourself, Seb?"

        That sounded like cringy, fun gossip, not pillow talk. "You don't mean that." Punctuated by another thrust.  

        "Ollie's into-"

        Seb sighed and leaned back, right into the coming tide. There'd be sand in his asscrack, but at least he was still inside you. "Tell me later." A wave slapped his cheek, grabbed at tresses of his hair, pulled far as it'd go. "Dude, you so owe me for this."

        You straightened, sand digging to your shins. "Stop complaining, you big baby." You rolled, forced his dick forward and back.

        Seb's head careened back, muddying his crown. Filth didn't matter when you were bouncing on his cock. "Fuck. Shit." He struggled to sound like himself and not a bought whore. He took it like one too. Eyes shut, mouth open.

        You bent, rolling instead of bouncing, swirling your tongue with his. Every moan into his mouth was a foot closer to the ledge. His cock tightened, he pushed you away, wouldn't be first to cum like last time.

        "You okay?" You slowed on him. Sterling silver in the moonlight, perfect, nipples hard in the cold. He grabbed for them and felt you squeeze around him. "Hey- ah-"

        The cold made them hard peaks that Seb warmed between his fingers. Easy to tell which way you liked to be played with by the pulse of your hot cunt.

        "You really like me, don't you?" He meant it to be cocky, but it came out soft. Needy as he felt. 

        You shuddered. The wind, the pleasure, the mounting knot in your abdomen. "Yes."

        He thought of walking in on Dad shaving so he wouldn't cum. 

        Seb shifted, tried to flip you over again, but you breathed, "I want it like this."

        He obliged, brought his hips to meet yours and made you bounce. As a man, he was immune to not jokingly complaining, "Come on, I can't be on the bottom forever." 

        "What if I like you like this?" You fell forward, off balance, shaking as he filled you. Every coherant word an effort, "You look- nnnhh- you look so pretty with your hair wet." His hair had been still with gel, but under you touch, the encroaching waves it went soft, silky, cold. His face was stuck with it, like black work all over his cheeks.

        "You are so c-corny." Seb couldn't hold on much longer. He buried, rocked his head to your g-spot quick, quick, quick. 

        "Y-you luh-like it." Your fingers curled in his hair, holding on for dear life as your body crashed down. You came, screaming into his mouth. A never-ending heat death that he lasted a single pump before spilling inside you. He barely managed to breathe as your cunt choked him out.

        There was an end. Wispy breathing, bodies sticky and cooling. The tide slapped at Seb's face, water in his mouth, he coughed. "Well, that was... nice."

        "Look who's corny now."

        ***

        Kregg blinked. 

        "Can't think'a anything, huh? Yeah, neither can I." Mark hummed.

        "Sir," Kregg said, "I understand you're upset but we must plan for-"

        "I know what we have to do. I'm not stupid." Mark looked around, caught the eyes, sharp and wizened and judging- like her parents had been when she'd first brought him home. "I get it. You all think just because I'm five, you can dick me around and call it guidance."

        "Nobody thinks that, Sir." 

        Mark's lip twitched. "You shouldn't, right? But I know you do, even though I put you assholes in charge for ten months and you couldn't even maintain the empire, let alone expand it. Who fixed it? Me! You think you need to tell me to make a plan? Are you fucking brain dead, Kregg?"

        Kregg kept his face neutral, "Moving officers away from their posts while you were known to be gone may have risked more of our colonies turning to rebel thought. But this is besides the point-" As soon as he said it, Kregg knew it'd been the wrong thing to say.

        Mark's chest puffed, emboldened by anger, "See, that's your problem, Kregg. You're so passive. If you actually gave a shit, you'd do something about it. Go behind my back and do real work instead of waiting around forever like a pussy. You know who didn't wait around forever like a pussy?" Mark gestured to where he'd been. "Thragg!"

        The meeting room was quiet when Mark was done, waiting for a reply. Kregg moved not a muscle but his jaw so not to lure Mark into more homicidal ideation, "As kin of Argall, you are stronger than I. I must be deferential to your whims, working outside of them is a disservice, it goes against everything Viltrum stands for."

        "Oh? So these two," Mark's thumbs went over his shoulders, "are doing a disservice to me by doing shit I don't tell them to do?" Markus really wished he'd thought to put a shirt on. "Do I gotta start telling you to wipe your own ass, is that it?"

        "They are also kin of Argall, Sir."

        Mark's grin dropped. The room went cold.

        Thula's voice stabbed at their eardrums, "Bickering will not kill Thragg any faster."

        Mark turned on her. Kregg feared for her safety. Mark pointed at her, "See? There's someone with initiative! Like yes, of course, Thula, let's walk into a trap!"

        Thula leaned forward, braid falling heavily over her shoulder, "He is weak. We can dispatch him easily."

        "He had help." Gray knew the story. Knew what a Viltrumite body could and couldn't withstand. Thragg should've been dead. "We must assume they are formidable enough for him to consider them worthy of service." The Thragg he distantly knew of had been icy hard. Barley able to withstand Mother's presence on his ship even though he'd never laid eyes on her. 

        Mark didn't like the news but nodded, "Thank you, God, someone who doesn't talk like a stupid bitch!"

        This was about all Kregg could take. Respectfully, "I understand sir, we are in a bad position, but this is an absurd way to speak to your council." He scolded him like Dad used to, before the powers kicked in. Firm with room for softness if Mark just apologized like a good little boy. 

        Tendons popped out of Mark's neck as he tried not to devolve into screaming. If he screamed, they'd talk about it. Call him immature, boy, child, just a cria. That was fine. The old shits could say what they wanted, but they'd circle and circle until one of them, Thula probably, said he was worse than Dad. Called Mark the shittier emperor despite him not being the one who wanted to retire over human pussy.

       Calmly as he could, "You're right, Kregg. We gotta even it out a bit. Call me a bitch."

        Kregg's mustache curved down, "Sir."

        "I mean it. Call me a bitch right now, and we can move on." Mark didn't know if he was lying or not. Didn't know what he wanted other than the council to stop looking at him like that. 

        "I served your father for seven hundred years." Because that in hours would be too long to say, too annoying to the boy emperor. "Out of respect for him and your grandfather, I will do no such thing."

        Mark's neck grew thicker still, then smaller, thicker, smaller. "Would you respect Thragg if he asked you to call him a bitch?"

        This was a trap. One of the confusing verbal barbs his human mates pulled on him time and again. Kregg thought he could get around it, "I only served as Thragg's General for fifteen years while your father found a mate and raised you. His role was always meant to be temporary. I have apologized time and again for not seeing that Thragg didn't think it was so."

        "You didn't think him making Dad and I fight to the death was an overstep?" It was more complicated than that, but swinging the words at Kregg felt good. 

         The look on Kregg's face was sweeter than red velvet. Still so hurt about his failure to the throne after all this time. "I wasn't privy to his plans."

        "Right, because you trusted him blindly. But you can't do jackshit for the literal blood of Agrall? Awesome. Amazing. You knowwhat? You're fired."

        Fired was a thing done to food and rebels. "What does that mean, sir?"

        "You're not my General anymore. You're just a regular ass drone now." Mark sneered at the others, "So are the rest of you. Get out." He had no idea how the empire would work without a council. How much work he'd take on- he didn't care. Just wanted them gone. 

        "That's not how this works." Thula gripped her braid. The boy needed sense knocked into him. 

        Mark squinted, "Are you defying me?"

        He'd try to kill her, he wouldn't win. That'd be a problem Lucan didn't want to deal with, "We solve the problem first then talk about changing the hierarchy. Right now, we just can't."

        Kregg piled on while Mark simmered, "Thragg wants the empire's heart. We must return home to guard our cria."

        "I'm the heart of the empire." Mark insisted.

        "Don't be silly boy, it's Viltrum itself." Conquest said. 

        Mark considered quietly. So long, it seemed like a definite yes- he was just being a baby about it but nobody said that.

        "Obviously, it's (Y/n)," Ollie said.

        The room collectively turned. Found Ollie posed with hands clasped against his check, rocking side to side. 

        "What the fuck are you still doing in here? This is council business. Get the fuck out." Mark spat.

        Ollie pointed at Markus, "Dad told me to come."

        Mark snatched Gray's arm, brought up the right app, and pressed. Ollie collapsed with a dog's yelp. Sebastian stepped out of the way before he hit the floor.

        "Get him out of my sight," Mark said.

        Sebastian didn't complain as he bent over and took Ollie by the hairy pits and dragged him out of the room. He went down the hall, watched by the middling observation crew, no smile on his face but one, big and toothy in his soul.

        Grayson made himself very still, terrified of the boot. Mark heard the lack of metal clicking on a data pad screen, said, "Keep trying to track him."

        "It won't be possible," Vidor said.  "If we haven't already caught his-"

        "Shut up."

        Vidor nodded.

        Kregg opened the proper screens to send the ship for Viltrum. Markus pressed a button, overtook control of the map, and paused Kregg's cursor. "Abandoning the warpath would prove Thragg's right. We can not let the galaxy know he isn't bluffing about our numbers."

        "Sending the emperor and his council to take care of a threat shows strong initiative." Was the easiest thing Kregg said all day. No traps, just straight to the point, even if he disagreed. 

        Gray shook his head once, "We understand that mindset, General, but our enemies are not so civilized."

        Thula banged her fists on the table, knife in hand, "The heart won't matter if we find Thragg and cut out his!"

        "Calm yourself," Kregg said, seemingly addicted to putting his foot in his mouth.

        Suggestions back and forth, back and forth like a hacksaw gnawing through Mark's skull. Feed the colonies! Go to Viltrum, fuck the warpath! Find the spy! Reestablish! The hierarchy! Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

        "Enough." Mark held his head like it'd split in two any second, "We're continuing the warpath." Thula bore her teeth. "Whatever complaints you have can be filed to my Grand General."

        "You don't have a Grand General." Kregg would know.

        Mark moved between them, deciding who would be better, then thought, "Actually, I have two," as he threw his arms around both of them.

        Mouths fell open. Protests started on lips. Mark beat them all to it, "What? I didn't take away your titles. I just made a new one. What do you say boys? Viltrum or finish the warpath?"

        ***

        After the fucking came more fucking, then skinny dipping in near-frozen water to clean off. You were shivering so bad by that point, Seb wrapped you in every towel available. Then made a fire with Markus's grill fuel. A little one that ate up the sticks quick. You were warm but still stayed on his lap, a veritable bouncy ball.

        "Did I ever tell you where I got this stuff?" Seb rolled the blunt, unlit between his fingers. Best to save the rest for another time. All the hangouts of tomorrow and the day after that. 

        "No."

        He told. Bugs and rebellion and vaginal acid.

        "That's... so fucked up."

        "I know. 'S why I thought about leaving entirely. Just, rippin' off that stupid iPad thing and pissing off to space." 

        From your towel peephole, you gave him a look. He shouldn't have laughed, but he did. You smiled, spoke low, "Why'd you come back then?"

        He was struck with the urge to shut down, to avoid the truth but he was full of enough bravery. "Didn't wanna leave you with a bunch'a unfunny losers."

        "Cute way to say you came back for me." You tried to elbow him sweetly but almost ended knocking yourself over. He steadied you. 

        "Well, yeah, I just-" The warmth made his arms tighten around you. Cozy, nice. Like the fires in Teen Teams' base when there was no more electricity, and Rex made them when it got too cold. For hours at a time, they'd pretend they were camping. Hands sparking at the tips. Cheeks warm, eyes averting. Nothing ever came of it. "Everybody I've ever cared about has died because I let them."

        You didn't feel qualified to play therapist as a ball, but you tried, "It's not your fault." A shot in the dark.

        "It is." He should've joined the rebels. Should've tried to fight Dad again. Should've worked with Eve. "I sucked and I didn't wanna get better, so I gave up and they died." Rex's blood between his fingers. Pumping. Pumping. While Seb pushed, pushed. It stopped, but Seb never stopped pushing. Too late. "I don't want to do that to you too."

        "You're not doing anything to me."

        "I was." He soothed his thumbs over the cotton. Trying to reel himself in. Not scare you away by being such a loser. "You said it, I made this shit worse. I don't wanna do that again, (Y/n). I really care about you." Not like the others, leaving you on this cold beach alone, where anything could've happened. "We should just go." He said, "Right now, I mean it. I've been out on so many missions I can find a nice planet for us to stay, no problem."

        "Seb-"

        "I've got powers, I look like the emperor. All I gotta do is take that thing off, and you've got powers. We can make it." The delusion almost seemed true in his eyes, wet hair and firelight. 

       You didn't want to ruin it, but you had to, "There's a tracker in my brain stem." 

        "I-" His mouth fell, "I can..." He didn't even try to say 'take it out'. "Sorry."

        "You didn't put it there," you shrugged, "don't be."

        "Grayson, right?"

        "Yeah."

        "Fuckin' hate that guy."

        You could tell him. Extend the invite. But you'd just gotten back together. Things were fragile, born again. Could go rotten fast. You'd wait. At least until you talked to Grayson again. "Look, this place sucks ass, but I really care about you too. Just being around you makes me feel more normal. That's what you're doing for me."

        Seb rocked you up with his knees, kissed your cupid's bow. "I wanna do more."

        "You know you're actually really romantic when you're not acting like a dick."

        "Tch, I'm not tryin'a be romantic, I'm just tryin'a be a better person."

        But he didn't flinch away when you kissed him again. "This making you a better person?"

        He grinned, lips against yours, "Kinda, yeah."

        "Corny." But you were content. "Can't believe this is how we get together."

        "We're not... I mean..." The more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.

        "So I like you and you like me, but we're just pals." You feigned thought, "Makes sense."

        He huffed, "Don't make me ask, dude."

        Your feigned confused, "Whaaat," almost put Ollie to shame.

        "You're the one actin' like yer gonna ask if we're boyfriend-girlfriend." He sounded hopeful.

        You feigned thought, "I'll tell you after recess tomorrow."

        Lips locked a long time. In the sky, the meeting dragged.

        Seb pulled away, rested his forehead against yours and asked, "We're good, right?"

        Laughter was a boozey breeze over his mouth, "Hmmm."

        "Aww, come on, I've never apologized like this ever." He whined.

        "Hmmm, I dunno. Maybe you should kiss me again so I can be sure you mean it."

        "Tch, dude..." And yet he did, again and again.

        The meeting was paused. Nowhere near resolved, but they needed to leave, couldn't without you.

        Markus felt like a reanimated corpse coming out of the airlock, stiff and cold. Everything he'd wanted had just been handed to him on a platter, but there was too much else piled on top. The council had voiced their displeasure. Mark just shook his head and crossed his arms like a child. Said they'd all have to complain to him. Markus would be getting an earful after the meeting, if it ever ended. All of them scrambling to call the right people to pick up the pieces Thragg had scattered. Gray telling them everything he knew about his Thragg. Trying to strategize around that and what Mark knew. It was going to be a disaster, Markus could feel it. Could only watch as the tsunami rolled over the horizon and hoped it wouldn't drown him, drown you.

        "Shit." You rolled off Seb, literally. Towels unfurling as the dot in the sky grew slowly closer. "Shit. Fuck. Dude." You spun toward Seb on all fours, "How obvious is it that I'm high right now?"

        Your eyes were as red as a dog's asshole when it's shitting. The dot grew closer. Seb scrambled for the sunglasses, hung them crookedly off your nose. "Just be cool." 

        Markus found you both lying by a fire. Closer than people who hated each other should be. Fine. You having a friend couldn't possibly be worse than Thragg's reemergence. Still, he'd set rules for engagement later with palm strikes. If he ever got the time to be alone with you for longer than five minutes. 

        He landed. Saw the scattered beach supplies, decided the locals could deal with it. There was just no time to drag this out. "We're leaving." You didn't protest, but you stood slow. Too slow. Fell into his arms, reeking of more alcohol, of Seb's substance. "I told you to slow down."

        You were boneless in his arms. Head lulling back as his feet left the sand, Seb following. "I didn't do that much, it's cool." The wind pushed the sunglasses down your nose. He saw and took off to the ship. The meeting could wait, you needed to go to the medwing. "What did you give her?" 

        Seb flew beside him, "It's safe, dude. I checked."

"I lift my hands from touching you, To touch the wind that whispers through, This twilight garden turns into, A world where dreams are real."

This Twilight Garden - The Cure

        Red pierced through the windows. So pure and bright, you thought gore had been splattered across your face. A haphazard swipe over your eyes, you found you were not. Then it was gone, room reduced to its normal hue, dim by comparison. The red sun blocked out by a faraway skyscraper-sized chunk of debris, passing as quickly as it came in. The office was again bathed in a candy coating. It dyed Markus' grays to cartoonishly bloody and Gray's brown pupils black. Mark was a shadow from his seat. You shielded your eyes and moved for him. Slow, dream-like, exhausted from your maybe single hour of sleep. 

        Mark had called you for something important he hadn't specified, 'official business' you hadn't been included in since Ka-Thala. You dressed for the occasion, flowly, semi-revealing, something he'd appreciate and maybe curb his infamous attitude.

        "Still no movement," Gray said as you passed behind him, standing at attention despite the empty chair to his left. The chair was meant for underlings, lower ranking viltrumites, loyalists that needed to be below the Emperor to converse with him. Gray refused to sit in it even after days without sleep. "If their scanners are as advanced as we theorized, they should've known we've been coming for days."

        "They may not have a way to break through the barrier." Markus paid you little mind, swiping over various camera feeds of Hydrox's revolving shield of an upper atmosphere. "Or they want us to think that and are waiting until we exit the ship to act."

        "They're just waiting until we're down there to kill us all and themselves." Mark said as you rounded the desk corner, "Hey, baby." He smiled like he hadn't said what he had, like you hadn't been worried he was going to call you a spy.

        "Emperor, if there was a 'death ray'," as he'd called it so many times, "we would have certainly picked up on it by now."

        "You're the one who said our scans aren't perfect cuz'a the interference," Mark mumbled.

        You leaned back against the desk, sitting against scattered papers. Another fry flash of red then dim, you looked out the window to watch. Hydrox, just far enough away, you could see the cycling layer of debris. Close enough for a Viltrumite to reach in seconds. Hopefully, far enough enemies would be able to reach the ship.  

        Mark watched you with narrowed eyes as Gray continued to outline hypotheticals. Emperor's skirts quietly swooshing as he shifted back in his chair. Knees sliding open in invitation. An invitation you could not, even silently refuse. He had been good last night, but you knew his track record. Markus said he was horrible in meetings, you didn't want to push your luck.

        As soon as the backs of your thighs were draped over his lap, his hands were glued to your waist. Pulling you flush against his chest where he could hook his chin over your shoulder. Unsubtly feeling up your sides toward your front.

        Markus finally looked at you, watching as Mark's hands traveled up your body. "We could be attacked at any moment. Are you really sure you want to do this?"

        Hot breath passed your ear. "I'll make you dickheads go deal with it."

        Markus felt his temple throb, trying not to look at you stiffly perched in the Emperor's lap, no idea of his intentions, assuming this was the most you would have to do. "I don't think this is a good idea."

        Mark's wandering fingers found your nipples under fabric and pinched. Your heart sped, you suppressed a shudder, faint arousal stirred in Markus' gut. "It's the best one I've had in a while."

        You kept your face straight. Too used to Mark's displays of power. Asked simply, "What did you guys need to talk to me about? The invasion, right?" 

        "Baby, I already told you about the invasion." Fingers rolled sensitive flesh between knuckles. "Do you really not remember any of it?"

        You swallowed a gasp. Flush cheeked as you noticed Gray watching attentively. Cataloguing your every micro expression, every twitch of your thighs, every mean twist of Mark's fingers. 

        "I was a little distracted." You hummed, the right answer, earning yourself another pinch that sent warmth pooling below. It'd pass, like all of Mark's little flights of fancy always did. After you walked out of that first meeting, he never pushed too far. You took a steadying breath. 

        "That's perfectly fine," Markus caught your eye, held it despite the lewdity, "We'd all prefer to update you together."

        "Yeah," Mark planted a hot kiss to the crook of your neck, "together."

        The groping never ended. Not through Markus' dumbed down summary of how the warpath was going or Gray's retelling of their worries. His narrative was stop and go, hypnotized by the way Mark molded your peaked flesh.

        Mark thought you would've cracked by now. Moaned and spread your legs and begged to take three cocks. To your credit, you kept cool. Unwilling to give him permission to be more obnoxious. All the while, you cunt slowly warmed and keened like a kitten by a fireplace. You tightened your legs. Everybody noticed.

        "We'll be dropping down to meet them in less than two hours." Gray managed to say without pause, "During which, you'll be kept in the emperor's quarters. The safest place should anything goes wrong."

        "Nothing will," Markus assured solely for your sake.

        Mark scoffed, "What? You see the future now, big guy?" For a second, a single moment, his hands flew up to gesture at nothing. You took the opportunity to slip off his lap and give yourself a moment's reprieve. 

        As soon as you moved, the conversation dropped. Energy shifted like eyes, six on your back, then your ass. You were too busy thinking how, "Sounds like you guys are a little busy to be having this conversation. I would'a just stayed in the room if you told me to." The office wasn't quite a wreck, but it was closest you'd seen to a mess since boarding the ship. Unwelded holes in the wall, Mark's unorganized papers stacked inches high, a side table was stacked with more papers and trays of uneaten food. "Have you even eaten yet?" 

        "Oh," Mark's chair clicked as he stood, "we're gonna eat." Boots dragged across the floor, one step at a time.  

        You didn't turn to see him prowl. You reached for the handles. "I can bring a tray over if you-" Your hips were knocked into the table, palms pinned against its cold top. Mark's weight over your back. Hands curling over yours. 

        "Nah, you can stay riiiiight," he pushed his half-hard dick into your ass, "here."

        You were trapped against him. Couldn’t breathe without him feeling it, "Don't you have a planet to invade in like, two hours?"

        "That's plenty'a time." 

        You made yourself firm, "Stop fucking around, Mark."

        "You think I'm fucking around?" He laughed with teeth against your neck. "Baby, I'm dead serious."

        "You can be 'dead serious' without other people around." Turning, you were eye to eye with Gray. Close. Closer than he'd been last. Standing a foot away at most. Markus to his side. Watching. Both of them silent despite their new position. They had told you when they were higher ranking they would help you, would keep Mark off of you. Why weren't they saying anything? Unless they- 

        Spoken low into the shell of your ear, "You don’t think we talked about this?"

        A shiver arched your spine, "What?" 

        No one answered your question, just watched. 

        ”You talked about what?” Looking to Gray, “All of you fucking me?” 

        Gray couldn't look away despite your softly accusing gaze. The patter of your heart, the want of your pressing thighs, too much to resist. He wanted you to feel his aching, soul-sucking need, but all he could manage was a tense, "Broadly."

        "Man, don't listen to him, we got real specific." Mark spun you both around, exposing your front to the boys, pinning your hands at your sides. Him behind you, a human shackle, nosing at the collar. "That guy’s obsessed with the idea of eating your pussy. I mean, me too, but he’s real adamant about it, aren't you?"

        Gray went pink. "Well- I-" His throat bobbed. "I am interested."

        "Do you even know how to eat pussy?"

        Mark's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Unsophisticated. Crude. Brute forcing through everything. For this to go smoothly, you needed to be more willing, and for that to happen, there needed to be a more refined leader- Markus.

        "There are plenty of things we can all learn." Markus moved into the space Gray was too nervous to take. In front of you, a single hand roaming up your leg. All of your attention narrowed down to that one moving point. The edge of your hip, your side, and just when you thought he'd tease where Mark had, his touch veered to the side and trailed up your neck. 

        "Tch, like what?" Mark's grip tightened around your wrists, a twitch from his touch, from Markus', you weren't sure, too busy trying to suppress a full-bodied shudder as Markus' fingers reached your face. 

        Markus didn't reply. Attention too focused on your lower lip trapped under his thumb. Your gaze and inhibitions softening the longer he held you like that. You looked to his lips, eyes, lips, eyes, and he knew he'd already set a better tone. When he finally spoke, it was a quiet, intimate whisper, something to make you shiver. "Be good."

        He saw your mind recede to a point, a single shine in your eyes as you nodded. Legs unflexing, shoulders dropping. Faster than you'd ever given in for Mark. Sweeter too. When you finally opened your legs to fuck there was always a bite, a resistance. Mark felt none in his hold.

        Still, Mark cackled, "That's your dirty talk?" As if Markus had done nothing, you hardened, melted wax over ice. Mark didn't mind, he'd break you down eventually. "God, I can't imagine how you dirty talk then." Sneered to Gray.

        With your eyes on him and the other's hands on you, Gray finally approached. Reaching out slow, like you just might bite him. You had the mind to after what he'd said. The empire was more important than how you felt, the abuse something to brush away. Despite it, you couldn't help leaning into his palm. Hoping a sweet look would soften him. Change his mind one touch at a time. He'd already changed so much in the short while you'd known him. Just a few more fucks and he could be on your side.

        He felt a hum of electric charge when your cheek met his palm. A curling need to kiss. Feeling faraway, he said, "He's taught me... some things." The plush feel of your thighs. How you sounded begging. There was another lesson here. A lesson Markus couldn't explicitly give, not to Mark anyway. Gray could feel it. An unspoken thread between them.

        "I was kidding, man. You guys really did get nasty with 'er, huh?" Mark tilted his head, mohawk bristling into your jaw, "C'mon, show me what you did. Or do you just wanna stand there all day?"

        A shared twitch between you and Gray. A shared thought to look to Markus for approval. "Can I...?" Markus nodded, shifted back just enough, hand moving to your waist. 

        The soldier he was, Gray wasted no time. Determined to keep his station. To show Markus he'd reflected, improved, been good.

        "You really gotta ask for permission?" Mark laughed.

        But no one was paying attention as Gray's hand, solid and sure, snaked around the back of your neck. Held you where he wanted, made you anticipate when he'd lean in. The moment dragged, as Markus let his moments drag. It wasn't until you softened, your eyelids fluttering as you accepted your fate, when he kissed you.

        There was no preamble of closed lip pecks. He began open-mouthed, yours still closed, a misstep he gently nipped you for. Predictably, you opened up to yip. He advanced, causing you to fall back, submitting when he had you pinned, battle easily won. You struggled beneath him, body grinding up against his despite being so obviously outdone at your own game. He'd been envisioning this in meetings, strategizing. He'd planned to pin your body to his, a firm hand on the small of your back, but you were flush to Mark meaning he had to improvise. He followed Markus lead, pressing his thumb into the dip of your waist on the other side. 

        All that effort was only worth it when he pulled from you a shallow gasp. The first wave defeated, he needed total victory. Efforts were redoubled, harder he pushed into the fray of your mouth.

        "Holy shit." Mark blinked at the view from your shoulder. "He's really goin'."

        He was, Markus noted, from his spot beside you. Idly pushing his hand between you and Gray, kneading at your thighs, thumb brushing over your clothed heat.

        Gray was wearing you down, he knew. This time, when he nipped, your hips twitched into his- into Markus' waiting touch. You still withheld moans trying to maintain some dignity in front of Mark. Submit, Gray's other palm seemed to say, glued to the side of your face. Keeping you from tilting, from getting his tongue out of your mouth. As if you wanted it gone anyway- finally giving him a real moan. 

        "Oh! Fuck, man, I shouldn't have doubted you." How many times had Gray kissed, Mark wondered. Couldn't be enough times to be this good. But there he was, pulling embarrassing noises out of you. Making some himself, but hey, Mark couldn't tease him about it. The guy never pulled back for air, never let you have a break. 

        You took it. Pushed back just as hard. Embarrassment a low boil with the others watching, but needing to knock loyalty loose from Gray's teeth. 

        "Damn, I think he likes her." Mark ground into your ass. Earned a gasp that let Gray advance deeper into you. Not to be outdone, Mark let your wrists free. Automatically, you latched onto Gray, hands unsure if they should push or pull. Too much of a good thing. 

        Mark again found your overworked chest and pinched. You yelped, Gray swallowed the sound, groaning appreciatively.

        It was strange, how hard he was while you were whoring yourself out for another man, your hands smoothing over Gray's clothed thighs, thumb brushing over his skirts. It definitely helped that it was himself. It meant you liked him so much you'd fuck him in a different, borderline virgin font. The highest form of compliment really. 

        Mark smiled as he bit down on your neck. You cried, Gray lapped up the sound and every other noise Mark pulled out of you. It was easier to break you down against another body. 

        Alone, Markus could've taken his time. Like this, he had to keep everything moving. Too slow, you'd get in your head too much and not enjoy it. Too quick, you wouldn't be in the right headspace. He put a hand on Gray's shoulder.

        He pulled back, eyes unfocused like he had no idea who he was, a bridge of spit between your lips. "Yes?"

        Markus found himself smiling at him, said, "You're not going to get very far if her clothes stay on."

        Gray blinked, "Oh. Yes, of course." He reached for the hem at your front.

        Mark slapped him away, hissed, “Make her do it."

        So Mark did have some taste. Markus was almost impressed, "Then give her space."

        Mark deliberately dragged across your back to come to Gray's side, who simply stepped back. Obviously aroused under his skirts. Mark snickered, "Jesus dude, you were just kissing." As if he wasn't rock hard too, as if he the first time he made out with you in high school he almost came untouched. 

        Gray fought the urge to cover. "I can't help it, she's-"

        "Right here." You said, already simmering with embarrassment without Gray's brand of honesty. 

        "And not naked yet." Mark settled beside the others, "Come on, give us a show, baby."

        You crossed your arms, covered the obvious peaks, "Why do I have to go first?"

        "Can't defend the ship naked, can we?"

        "I mean, you could."

        You were regressing. Talking back. Hadn't been steered right in too long. Spoiled. Markus intervened, "(Y/n)," you went ramrod straight, back clenching, ready for a strike. Markus let you wait, primed to flinch, and just on the cusp of quiet, when Mark was about to ruin it, he said soft, “What did you promise me?”

        He saw the memory shudder through you, ”Do I have to say it?” Backtalk she would have never given, but soft for you, barely a nibble. 

        "Not yet," An accommodation and a threat, "Just take your clothes off for me." Relieved, you relaxed, more than before, so easily controlled.

        Again the fight drained out of you when solely focused on him. You reached for the seam. Mark just had to open his mouth, "For us, dickhead."

        Markus told him, "Quiet."

        Mark snorted, "You did nooot just tell me to shut up." He didn't wait for a reply, throbbing dick more important than his ego at the moment, "Come on, babe. Don't you see what you've done to," he slung an arm around, "Gray? You can't just leave him like this."

        You took that as cue to rip the shirt off. Hand reaching for the bra before- "Slower." Markus said just as you undid the first clasp. Viltrumites didn't care about underware but Mark? Mark liked the lacy stuff. Liked to undress you and be surprised by the fragile white. 

        You paused, halfway to exposing your breasts, "Really? Don't you guys have somewhere to be?" Half-laughed out. Hard to stay completely obedient when Mark was here, being obnoxious. The room, switching from red to dim. A constant reminder of the imminent death of millions. And here you were, getting naked slow for show. It was all a little ridiculous, really.

        Markus kept firm, eyes darker in the dim light. "Watch your tone." You knew then that he had meant it, 'be good.' Keep the charade up. Play along. Above all else, submit. 

        For him, for Gray's earned loyalty, you started to peel the clothes off an inch at a time. 

        Mark laughed, "You sound like Dad."

        Markus didn't reply, only waited.

        Mark commented on every little thing. "Nice tits," and when your bottoms were rolling down your thighs, "That's it."

         Hot cheeked and straining to keep your tongue curbed, the clothes hit the ground. You stepped out of the underwear, annoying and lacy like all of the undergarments she had, and waited for any one of them to do something about it. But they just stood, assessed. 

        Mark poked at his cheek with his tongue, feigning casualness when he was pulsing to get inside you. "I didn't think you'd really do it in front of all of us. Kinda slutty, babe."

        They all caught the twitch. The flush. How you liked it and tried to hide it. 

        Didn't matter that Mark was emperor, Markus was still running this thing, "Don't call her that."

        Mark gestured toward you, "She likes it. Don't you, babe?"

        You couldn't hold his or any gaze. Too many eyes on your naked flesh at once. It was easier to talk toward the window as the debris passed, bathing you all in candy red, "I'd like to not be the only one naked."

        Mark poked at Markus with his boot, "That means she likes it."

        Markus thought about arguing. Finding a way to shut Mark up but you were getting uncomfortable and even more pressing- Gray looked like he was about to explode. Waiting for someone to give him a command. As if he were releasing a well-trained dog, Markus met his eye and nodded towards you, go.

        Before you could think to tense, Gray had transferred the tray of food to a faraway chair. Leaving a space on the table free for you to lean on. Your body the feast, all for himself. He didn't know where to touch first, so he opted for everywhere. Bursts of sensation across your shoulders, lower back, and just before he could soothe over the last curve, he detoured. Always getting close to the final destination but never landing. Too scared to push too far, wanting to, but not wanting to stop kissing your neck. You made good noises when he sucked.

        Noises he could tell were self-censored, still too nervous to fully let go. To close your eyes and let yourself be taken. How could you when over Gray's shoulder, they were just standing there? Watching. Mark smirking like he'd won something. Markus staring like you'd killed his puppy.

        "Are you just gonna sit there and watch?" You said breathlessly.

        Mark crossed his arms, incredulous, "I think I will."

        Markus rose a brow. You swallowed, a good enough apology for the moment. "Is there something else we should do?” 

        Mark snapped, "Oh! That's good!"

        There was no way you'd beg in front of three people, Mark especially. Markus would just have to accept that. "Aren't you the ones that planned this?" 

        Mark snickered. Markus' jaw set, "I asked you a question."

        "Dude." You sighed, "Come on. Can we just be nor-"

        Your chin fit nicely between Markus' fingers. Hold not harsh, but as firm as his body, looming suddenly over Gray's back. "What did I say about that?"

        When he was this close, it was hard to resist. Hard to think at all. "Not to say it."

        Mark peered around Markus, "Say what?"

        "Good." He smoothed thumb over chin. "What else?"

        "Yeah, what else?" Mark echoed.

        You ached. Humiliated. Never wanting Mark to see this side of you. But you couldn't keep fighting. You wanted to be good. So good for Markus despite the burn. "I..." The words wouldn't come. Too filthy, too exposing, too much to say in front of them all. His thumb slid into your mouth pressing on your tongue. Your legs, draped in Gray's skirts, opened anyway. 

        Gray pulled back just to look at the shine. Mark leaned hard around him, whistling low. 

        Markus pulled back out, rubbing his wet thumb along your bottom lip, overseeing it all, "Say it."

        Mark giggled like this were a game, "Don't be shy, babe."

        "I want you to fuck me."

        It wasn't what he'd wanted you to say but it had a similar effect, a collective throb.

        "All of us, right?" Mark asked just to be a dick.        

        You looked at Markus to see if you should answer but he gave nothing. Act natural, his neutrality seemed to say. You'd done it before- why was it so hard now with the others around? You tried, "That's what I said."

        "Actually, what you said was, 'I want you to fuck me.'" mocking your voice, like it hadn't made him twitch, "Who's 'you'? Me? Him? Him? Gotta be concise, babe."

         You hoped Markus would jump in but he didn't. Letting Mark have his fun and think he was in control, when you both knew who you were really saying it for, "I want you all."

        "Yeah, you do."

        Gray could care less about the power struggle. He was shaking. Cock throbbing like it'd been well sucked. "I want..." But he didn't know how to say it. All the blood gone from his brain.

        Markus knew the urge, the primordial need, because it wasn't a want. Gray didn't understand yet but he would. Markus leaned into his ear and gave him a gentle nudge down, "You'll know what to do."

        Gray did, at least, know to drop onto his knees. Knew to sit you down and drag you closer. The papers shoved back, scattered over the floor. He didn't care, just knew to put his mouth on your cunt, taste where he landed. Not at your clit but lower, made no difference to him, it all felt hot and right. Tongue buzzing at every point of contact. Pussy tasted less mystical than he'd envisioned; it was more like flesh. Good, supple flesh. Better than the dried desert meats after weeks of starvation. 

        Gray wasn't in the best spot or even a particularly good one, but your body responded anyway, arching into him, a hand curling into his hair as you gasped. A call that made the others respond. Converge over you, unable to resist. Mark's lips over yours, tongue in your mouth. Markus' mouth over your chest. Closed eyed, you couldn't tell who was touching you where. The fingers trailing over your spine, the hold on your sides, the thumb over your other nipple.

        You could only tell where your own hands roamed over hard, clothed cocks. The one happily bucking into your palm had to be Mark, the other that didn't so much as shudder, Markus. Your touch was about as effective as Gray's. Too overwhelmed to have any finesse. Just an acknowledgement of your want for each other, a connection through the haze. 

        Markus heard when your lips were freed, immediately rising to capture them while Mark sank, needing to bite. Tempted to sink his teeth into the scar by your throat, not stupid enough to ruin the moment, he chose your unsucked nipple to abuse instead. He thought the sound you'd made was from him but glancing down, he saw, it hadn't been.

        Markus' hand was on the back of Gray's skull, pulling him up by the hair to lick the right spot. And lick he did, like he'd never licked anything before, finding his rhythm quickly. Listening for moans like he listened for combatant heartbeats. It was simpler than he thought, consistency and pressure were all it took to make you moan. But he wanted more than that, so he recalled on his lessons. Mark smirked against your spit-sticky skin as Gray filled you two fingers full, your body shuddering at the intrusion, gasping against Markus' lips. 

        Mark tasted Markus' spit on your teeth with another switch. You were just conscious enough to tell. Twitching and spasming and doing exactly as they wanted. Arching into Gray's mouth, hitching at Markus' praised, "Good, you're so good." 

        Funny, how they all liked the same thing said in different ways. But they all liked you the same, liked the way your body locked up when you were close. They could all tell.

        Piercings glided over your skin, cool and sharp, "Holy shit, you do like this." He didn't know if the statement was about you or Gray. The man's head nothing but a tuft of hair between your legs, happily lapping in the suffocating dark.

        You were less kissing Markus now, more crying openly into his mouth, pulling his hair as your other hand jumped between Gray's head and Mark's. Not so shy anymore as orgasm approached with every flick of Gray's tongue. "I'm so- I'm so close."

        He throbbed in your palm, sucked the air you breathed down, "Cum. Cum for me."'

        You tightened all at once around Gray's fingers. Then you were pulsing, hard and quick, sucking him in deeper. Blood rushing in his ears like he'd been the one who came. A cry in the air, he worked through because he knew now. Not a want but a need, needed to lick even after you'd gone limp.

        Legs thrown over shoulders slipped in the writhing. Your own weight nearly dragging you off the table. Gray kept you up, from the hinge he'd made out from mouth and hips, hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you still. 

        Markus put his hand over Gray's, "Here." Pulled you up, revealing Gray's shining chin and open mouth. Dazed eyes looked up to him, wounded. Markus didn't let him wonder long, turning you over, belly flat to the cool table, spreading your shaking legs to help you stabilize. "That better?"

        Mark, who'd moved fluidly away, returned. Circling around the table, admiring the arch of your back as you pushed your ass into Markus' palm. "Fuck yeah, it is." His fly split apart.

        Ignoring him, Markus left to fetch the personal lubricant from Mark's desk drawer. Because of course, when they talked about the idea, Mark had showed it off. Half empty, well used, stored with his most important office things in a top drawer. It had leaked over everything.

        With nobody to object, Gray shoved himself back where he needed to be. The angle different, a new challenge, but a good stretch on his tongue. Easy to push his fingers back in, feel the difference here too. Another thing to overcome. He already was. Adjusting himself to pull out the louder noises. Moans that spilled inches from Mark's straining cockhead. Grip firm (in your hair/under your chin) keeping your head up, mouth level, and just out of reach. Stroking right in your face, skin stretching and swallowing the warm brown of his tip. You didn't want to lick as much as you wanted to swallow. Hating the smirk on his face and the amount of clothes on his body. Fully clothed like the others, while you were a trembling nude display piece.

         "You wanna suck me off, don'cha?" Your answer was a shiver. "Come on."

        He was so close but wouldn't cross the distance himself. Wanted your neck to stretch, to see you work for it. 

        Markus had turned maybe a half-second, returned to this and had to accept it. He wet his fingers while Mark tried to coax you forward. You stayed stubbornly back, glaring up at him, trying not to become a whimpering mess again. Gray wasn't making it easy for you.

        "Would it kill you to say please again? You did last night." He'd been so respectful, submissive, and you wouldn't let him forget that. 

        Mark's grip hardened to the edge of pain. A warning: The others can't know. "Yes, actually."

        You didn't look back. Didn't sense the danger until Markus' palm was smoothing over your ass. Memories of pain made you stiffen, made you listen, as he tutted, "Manners."

        Mark snorted, kept on pumping. While you tried not to shake too pathetically as Markus traced over you. Working his way around and around, lower and lower until a single, slick finger rested itself against your asshole.

        "I didn't think you were serious." Mark peaked over your back. At Markus' slow movements, massaging the outside, wetting you good. 

        "I'm always serious." Markus smoothed down your side as he angled to push in, "Ready?"

        Pump after pump, Gray filled you, two, then three fingers at a time. Giving what your body would let him. Made it hard to keep composed. You managed a clipped, "Yes."

        Clipped wasn't enthusiasm. He stayed outside your hole, smoothing around the edges, "Are you really?"

        "Yeah, babe, you really want his finger in your ass?" Mark parroted. 

        "I'm-" Gray sucked you into his mouth, "nngghh-"

        Your legs went jello-y. Eyes unfocused. Mark oozed over his fingers. "Sounds just like you did last night." 

        You didn't want to keep melting, but Gray didn't stop, neither did Markus. The only way out was through. "I'm-" You swallowed an even more pathetic noise, "I want it."

        "Want what, baby?" Mark teased, but Markus had been about to ask the same thing. 

        "Ugh just-" you shuddered as Markus' finger stilled, silent discipline seconding Mark's question without a word, "Markus- I... I want you inside me."

        Staying respectable became impossible when Markus barely pushed inside. Just enough to let your muscles start to slacken like your jaw.

        "Shit." Mark whistled, "You're a real fuckin' dog, man." It'd never occurred to him to get in your ass. He had two holes, you had three. The conventional two were good enough, the third seemed like a, harhar, pain in the ass to get inside when there were two perfectly usable ones right there. 

         You were tight. Markus knew you'd be from the first time he'd pushed inside. Untrained. Unbroken in. Willing, by your whimpers and quickly loosening body, to be broken.

        "I wouldn't miss out on this." Markus pushed in a careful inch. Again, feeling that comfortable heat he loved. "Not when she likes it so much."

        Mark chose not to be insulted. Chose instead to admire, "Shit. Look at that face." Open mouthed, short breathed, agony. Weedy little moans out of your lips, lids fluttering closed as Markus sunk deeper. You had other things on your mind than sucking cock.

        "It'd be better," Mark finally closed the distance, grabbing the ring of your collar and pulling you forward to let his heavy head press against your open lips, "like this."

        He was awful. Horrible. Ruined everything he touched. Tugged again, forced himself between your lips. If he tugged harder, the escape-attempt programming would trip. Shock you so bad you'd scream, and he'd shove his way inside. He'd love that. Another tug, harsher, pulling him deeper inside. Splitting apart your teeth, you gave in. Acidically hot on your tastebuds. Heavy and filling your third hole, one piercing at a time.

        You tried to relax and enjoy it.

        When he was too deep to feasibly bite, "Thaaaat's a good slut."

        You moaned, obscenely. Throbbed hard around Gray and made him moan too. It was stupid how much you liked the name and hated it at the same time. You hadn't wanted Markus to hear. Were burning alive with embarrassment he had.

        Markus' lip twitched.

        Mark smirked at him as pulled back, admiring the shine of his dick, before sliding over your tongue. You took him readily. "She fuckin' loves it." He sunk, inches at a time until he kissed your uvula, "Takes it soooo easy." You didn't even flinch. Throat used to the abuse. "See that? Only a trained whore can do that, Markus."

        Another throb and moan, another response from Gray. Rewarded by faster fingers. Pushing you closer to the edge humiliatingly fast. Mark could feel it. The way your jaw slipped, the feel of incisors brushing over his frenulum. He didn't mind, as long as you came like this to make up for it. 

        "You could call her anything, and she'd like it." Markus walked a fine line between jabbing and gentle degradation. Both marks hit- you shivered as he sunk to the second knuckle. Hot, hard pulse squeezing around him. Loving it. Whereas Mark rolled his eyes. Maybe it was to keep himself from cumming, but Markus liked to think he struck home.

        "That's the point. I'm not calling her sweetheart, I'm calling her my dirty cock slut."

        You made a noise around him. Annoyed through the pleasure haze.

        Markus interpreted, "You don't have to talk the whole time."

        "Talking's the fun part. I get to and she," Mark pushed until he hit the back of your throat, "doesn't." He liked the way you spasmed. The panic in your eyes, the tightening in your throat. Payback for last night.

        "You don't want to hear this?" Markus pulled you back, let you gasp for air. Made his point by flexing a finger and making you whine. "Feel good, angel?"

        Automatically, brainlessly, sultrily, "Yes."

        Markus flexed again, "You want more?"

        "Please." Sounding polite was hard when you'd gone raspy. Tasting Mark on every breath.        

        "Shit, when'd you get so nice?" Mark pumped at his base. Slick with your spit.

        A smile ghosted over Markus' lip, "She listens if you know what you're doing." A languid, slow pump out halfway then in. Shockwaves up your spine. "Don't I?"

        You clawed at Mark's thighs, "Yes."

        "Holy shit." He'd seen you cock drunk, power drunk, drunk-drunk, but never like this. Near possessed. Mewling and arching and willfully pathetic. Maybe he had been missing out on anal. "I dunno what you're doing, man, but keep doin' it."

        Mark pushed forward, needing your mouth, your moans on him. You turned. Wheedling for Markus yet with the brain to be annoyed at him and his head poking at your cheek. "Oh, don't pretend you don't love it, baby."

        Markus reached under your chin. Gently pressed two fingers either side of your mouth, "He wants you to do something for him." Another pump, further out then all the way in. Below, Gray had found a rhythm that made your knees give away.

        "St-ahhh." Talking was getting harder and harder. Markus wasn't stopping, and Gray hadn't slowed then entire time. "Hah-"

        "You know how to finish your sentences." Punctuated with the addition of another finger. Stretching your rim so good you forgot how to speak for a few moments. Markus coaxed, "Well?"

        Everything came out a breathy slur, "Stop encouraging him."

        Mark pouted fakely, "Aww, do you really think I'm that annoying?"

        "Yes." Said in a different tone than the mewling submission Markus had pulled out of you. 

        Markus paused, "Don't." Tone a warning in itself.

        Your mouth clacked shut.

        Mark's dick poked harder to your cheek. "Didn't say you could talk back, did we?" He added on unnecessarily. But he was the emperor and needed to be kept happy, so Markus let him talk. "Didn't think so."

        "Come on," Markus pressed down again, you opened for him easily. "That's right." He hardly had to guide you, soft brained with his commands, taking Mark's cock back into your mouth without further complaint. "Good." Still, Markus guided your head from the crown, pushing and pulling. Setting a healthier pace than either you or Mark would. 

        "Yeah, listen to big daddy." Mark said.

        Markus blinked, "Do not call yourself that."

        "I'm talkin' about you, man." When Mark laughed, he shook between your lips, "Don't act like you don't want 'er to call you that."

        "No." Clipped.

        Mark rose a brow, "Sure you don't."

        For a solid ten, twenty seconds there was silence. Aside from moaning and squelching and choking- but there was no talking. Markus and Gray still managed to understand each other perfectly. Separated by thin flesh, fingers brushing through it. Feeling you twitch when they did, then synchronizing, pushing in and out of you at the same time. All you could do was moan around Mark and take it as Markus pressed a third finger into you.

        Mark speared you down, rocked his hips into your nose. So full your jaw ached. It didn't matter. You came anyway. Harder when they started moaning, loving how your body tried to crush their fingers, how your throat became the perfect vibrator. Just like one of those fancy alien sex toys.

        "Fucking knew you liked sucking my cock." Mark shoved himself deeper. Felt your teeth dig into his pubic bone but he didn't care. Needed to spill down your throat while your eyes were misty. No more attitude from you like this. "Know you want my cum so bad."

        Markus could deal with a lot. Tasting another man's cum, especially Mark's cum, in your mouth was not something he was willing to deal with. "She'll like it inside better."

        "Fuck," Mark sighed, "you're right. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He yanked himself out of you. Cock swollen and heavy between his legs, so stiff it hurt. "Shit, you need dick so bad you look like you're about to die without it."

        You finally got to really breathe after minutes of acute suffocation, head dropping with heavy, heaving breaths. You distantly wanted to say something rude, but when you thought about him inside you, words left your lips in a gasp, "Mark, please." 

        Mark circled to your back, found both holes occupied. "Move."

        Gray's head turned like it wasn't attached to his body. He shone from chin to nostril, nearly to brows. Your taste in his nose, the back of his throat, everywhere. Fingers, three, stayed inside you just to feel your pulse. Not a thought behind his glassy eyes.

        He heard but hadn't fully registered what Mark said. So Mark said it again, firmer, "Move."

        Hesitatingly, he removed himself. Already missing the heat on his face. In the absence of something to put in his mouth, he sucked his fingers dry.

        Markus wanted to wait for this but when Mark had an idea, there was no use trying to stop it. "It'll be easier if I go first."

        Annoyance. Disdain. And then, rare understanding. "Fine, but I thought the whole point of ass stuff was how tight it is."

        "Don't you want to see how well she takes it?" Markus had to say, instead of it being easier for you. Mark didn't care about that part in the moment. 

        "Be quick about it."

        There was nothing quick about it. Moving you to the desk proper, sitting himself down, and you on his lap, knees up to your chest, lubing himself and you. Then fighting off Gray from eating your pussy again so Mark could keep his perverted view. Lots of steps that weren't even penetration itself. That was slow, teasing work. Lowering you carefully onto himself, finally unsheathed. Obviously, Mark made a comment about them having the same dick, ruining any enjoyment Markus was getting out of you shaking in his arms, nails digging into his forearm as he rubbed against your opening rim. 

        The stretch agonizing and mind-wipingly good. You hissed, "It's too-" Circles rubbed to your clit quieted your complaints and untensed your hole, let him slip a little further inside. Slow and steady, your whines filled the room. Muffled by Markus' over the shoulder kiss. Mark's taste passed tongue to tongue. That, Markus could tolerate.

        "Man, you're fuckin' nasty. I wouldn't even do that." But Mark loved the sight anyway. You gasping into Markus' mouth, knowing you were both tasting him as you pulled desperately at his hair. Writhing body on full display where every time Markus moved in your ass, your pussy clenched around nothing.

        Your pussy ached, it was so empty. While your other hole was stuffed just by a cockhead. Stretched to what had to be your limit but he just kept pushing. Pressing on the back of your cunt through the flesh. Body shocks sent your head cracking back to his shoulder, a hard, "Fuck," out of your teeth.

        He froze. For all of a second, you could live with that- a moment to adjust. But his ministrations on your clit had paused as well. 

        You wanted to curse at him for enforcing stupid rules, but you knew he'd only move if you said, "Sorry." When he stayed still, another, "Sorry."

        "Are you really?" Markus kept you firmly in place.

        "I am." He still didn't move. "Markus."

        "What do you say?" He prompted.

        "Sorry." Came out quick as a shot. "Please, fuck me, please, please. I'm sorry."

        His cock throbbed. Paralyzingly hard. For just a moment he hesitated to move, but you were already begging. "Please, I'm sorry. Please, please-"

        This was what he wanted. Sweet. Docile. Knowing your place. Perfect.

        "Please." Mark mocked, "Don't hear that from you often. When'd you get so polite?"

        Markus shifted you down on his cock, goading you to speak like puppeteer to puppet, "M-Markus." Was all you could manage.

        "Dude, what'd you do to her? So fucking nice. You're never like this."

        You could only moan in reply.

        "Basic discipline." Markus shifted you a little further so they could all hear you mewl, watch you twitch and writhe in his hold. "Goes a long way."

        "Fuck, it really does." Mark moved in close. Had to get a better look at the way you were twitching. Gray had the same idea. Closer. Closer. Until they both were crowded between your legs. "She seem sorry to you, Gray?"

        Gray reached out with pruned fingertips. Ghosted over the glistening outside of you. You jerked forward, pussy throbbing around nothing, cried for it. "Very."

        "You sure?" Mark took his own place over your folds. Pressing between them, teasing the entrance in little pulses. Never pushing past the first knuckle.

        Your head lifted as if on a string. You could barely look at them without burning alive with embarrassment. Shaking. Soaked. On display. Liking it. "I am." Gasp, shake, "I am."

        That was good enough excuse for Mark to push his fingers in. Three at once, easy. Your whole body rocked. Eyes back, mouth parting with a moan, whorish from his laziest pumps. "I dunno if you really are. Daddy didn't say you could get fucked but you're not stopping me."

        The shock of disgust at Mark saying that name broke Markus out of the pleasant headspace he'd waded into, wanted to break his nose for it. That'd be counterproductive to bonding so close to the emperor's side. Instead, he played along, ignoring the misstep, "She didn't. Maybe you should stop."

        Mark smiled big and mean, "Think I should?"

        "No! N-no, I need it." You twitched forward, tried to suck Mark's fingers in, but he pulled away. "Put it back. Put it-"

        "Maybe if you beg a little nicer, I'll give you something."

        Markus kissed the back of your shoulder, "Tell him what you want, princess."

        Mark snorted, "Princess?"

        He'd been calling her that since high school. Remembered floating outside her window while she told Eve. Eve's scoff and rolled eyes and parroted, "Princess? Really?"

        "I mean, it's a little silly, but I thought it was nice. And- And- stop looking at me like that- he held open literallly every door for me and paid for everything. I think he gets a cringy nickname pass."

        As the years went on, he made sure she didn't think it was silly. She heard the word princess and went wide eyed with want. You were already throbbing around him, conditioning off to a good start.

        Markus circled your clit, a reward for your reaction. "She likes it." 

        It was awful how well they were working together, you hadn't expected it. Caught between flickers of submission and lucidity. Hating it, loving it. All while Gray kept a constant, icy gaze on you, never missing a detail. Finding new weaknesses to exploit. Mark snickered at every sound. Trying to make more with his wandering touch. Markus pumped deeper.

        You couldn't take it. Needed to stop this madness, this overheating humiliation, so you said, "Please. Fuck me, please, I need it so bad. Please, please-" Markus' grip tightened, hips moved. Your empty pussy ached. His fingers quickened. The last remnants of your mind broke like waves over rock, "Please!"

       You didn't know who to look at, who the beg to. Mark thought it had to be him, the only other with a dick out. He eyed Markus, Grand General, most trusted adversary, with a playful smile, "Should I?"

        Markus looked back, saw a better path, an emperor who could actually listen, "I think you should forgive her."

        "I think I should."

        Gray removed himself so Mark could replace fingers with something fatter. Balls deep on the first thrust. You were shoved back onto Markus' hard body, deeper onto his cock. You sounded like an animal, wounded, crying for death. Body limp and usable. Use, he did. Slamming himself inside, slap after fleshy slap, staying deep. Rutting against Markus through your body. 

        Markus just had to hold on. Feel you being used. Try to ignore the dull sparks of pleasure from the friction. "Tell him thank you."

        "Tha-thank you."

        "So fucking sweet like this, aren't you?" Mark's pelvis slapped against your clit. Sent your head and eyes careening backwards over Markus' shoulder. "Tell them how much you like my cock, come on."

        You were close again. Desperate. Said it, "Yes- yes- fuck- I fucking love your co-" You whined as Markus pulled out an inch. 

        "Whoa! Daddy didn't say you could talk like that." Mark followed along, slowing until you felt your orgasm fading. "Did you?"

        "No- n- no, please, I'm sorry."

        Just because he was feeling good and generous and he looked so sad hovering behind Markus to watch, Mark chimed, "Gray, did you hear him say she could talk like that?"

        There wasn't much room to feel you from the front. Gray moved behind his fellow grand, watching your face while his balls ached. "He did not." He traced over your jaw, rubbed thumb over your bottom lip.

        Your eyes unstuck from the back of your skull, locked onto him. You didn't know what you wanted but you begged, "Please," anyway. He took that as sign to bend over Markus' back and kiss you. 

        "You guys are both fucking disgusting." Mark watched you blindly try to give Gray a reach around behind Markus. Watched you fail. Watched Gray tear his skirt to the side to free himself and guide his dick into your fumbling hand. Moaning in Markus' ear.

        Mark swore he felt Markus twitch through your body, but it was probably you, squeezing his cock tight, dangerously close despite their rhythm slowing. He wanted to shove you over the edge. Make you cry. You already were, but he sped up, pummeling your g-spot, Markus supporting, Gray's tongue in your mouth.

        Mark got his wish three strokes later. Nearly blacked out with how good you throbbed around him. Harder than you or she ever had. He had to think of beating in Dad's brains so he wouldn't cum. You made it hard. Riding it out on him, rubbing against both of them. And when he couldn't hold on any longer, your body calmed. Tighter, wetter, but it was enough to skirt by and draw out longer.

        When he was sure his voice wouldn't be a boyish whimper, Mark laughed out a breathy, "Why didn't we do this earlier?" Your response was wonderfully incoherent. He needed you to garble. To not be able to speak at all. "Gray- fuck- get in here, man."

        He lifted his head, "I am-"

        "Put your dick in her mouth."

        Gray looked at Markus. Whose face would be right next to his cock if he did that.

        Before he could approve or deny, "Please," you hitched, "Please, please." You couldn't seem to say anything else.

        "You heard her." Markus caught your slack jaw and held your mouth open like he'd hold open a door. 

        Gray nodded as he floated up.

        As soon as his pretty tip was close enough, you licked. Didn't have to be told. Just wanted to taste, to feel his pulse thrumming on your tongue. Markus didn't need to hold you open for long you were so willing. Ideas of convincing him of some grand something fading away as you haphazardly kissed his shaft. The angle was awkward but you took him into your mouth anyway. Groaning around him as he filled you- they filled you completely.

        Mark saw a man flying for a blowjob. Laughed, but not for long, since you were cumming again. He moaned with everyone else. Released into you without trying, couldn't have stopped it if he wanted to. At least he wasn't Gray. Cumming after two licks and looking so guilty for it, gripping his own face to try and keep quiet. 

        You took it all. Swallowing and shivering, still on the edges of the last orgasm. Mind as sticky as your insides. Wanting more despite the softening of their cocks. 

        Staying inside was too much, Gray had to retreat. You didn't let go easily, suckling as he pulled back. Leaving him stirring again, but he withheld to let you breathe. He wasn't able to pull away fully. Turning the tables, reaching around to play with your chest. Nipples soft and warm between his fingers.

        Mark was more used to overstimulation, let himself rest inside your body. Feel the gentle thrust of Markus against him. Hard and in charge. "Guess you're the last man standing."

        "I can go long as she needs me." Markus' pace never sped up, never slowed. The kind of steady grounding you needed, fingers going to circle your clit.

        "Dunno man," Mark watched the lazy strokes of Markus and Gray's fingers, "we got limited time and she's still real needy." With every circle they rubbed, you squeezed, he hardened. The seedling of an idea tumbling around his head.

        "Fifteen minutes." Markus said. In that time, you'd be well past done. They all would. Had to be. Hydrox's atmosphere waited to be broken in twenty.

        "Ten." Gray corrected. 

        "How many time you think she's gonna cum by then?" He started moving his hips, slowly thrusting into the slick mess of your pussy. "Huh, babe? How greedy you feelin'?"

        "I-" You shook, "I-" You'd come too much already. Had too many things touching you. Every nerve a house fire. You couldn't hold any part of yourself aloft, not even your mind. You couldn't stop them. Didn't want to. Nothing mattered but this.

        "Bet you wanna take another fuckin' load." Mark shoved in harshly, got a broken shriek as reply. "You want it or not? 'S like Daddy said, you can talk."

        "Iwantit."

        "Gotta understand you to give it to you, babe."

        You had to center and think to get the words out right, "I want it."

        It was a growl into your ear, the one not occupied by Markus' breath, "Yeah," hips slapped against hips with every word, "you want Daddy's load so fucking bad, don't you?"

        All you felt was heat, none of the confusion, none of the connecting threads. You said, "Yes," just so he wouldn't stop.

        Sweet as sugar, Mark said, "Then tell him, tell Daddy you want his cum."

        He felt the twitch from the other side. Markus kept himself steady, "Do not-"

        "Daddy, please- Cum in me- Daddy! D-"

        From the deepest depths of his soul, a groan. Not a loud sound, not a bark or growl, but a shuddering noise of something broken. His resolve snapped, grip tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed through him. Eyes shut right before so Mark couldn't see them roll back. His ball emptied, your ass filled. Mind awash. Guilt impossible to feel because you were cumming again, whimpering the title brokenly.

        He felt when it was done and you'd gone limp. Dimly, he realized Mark's plan, how he'd been outmaneuvered in ways he hadn't foreseen. How he failed you, cumming so soon. Letting Mark run amuck as the animal he was. Then there was his body. Feeling every flutter of yours, more stimulation than he was used to. Always having pulled out when he let himself finish, always at the end, only at the end. Against him, through the thin wall, Mark rubbed it in, literally. 

        Markus hadn't whimpered since he was a child. Refused to as an adult. Sucked the noise down as Mark thrust once, twice, laughing, "I knew you were into that shit!"

        There had always been inkling he was. A desire he knew was there, but she never asked so he never indulged. Without even asking you'd called him... A pulse. Faint and somehow like lightning, threatening to harden him again. He couldn't think about it. How good and right it felt. How you sounded saying- No. Second chances were for the weak. And Mark wasn't done and Markus wouldn't let him have you all to himself to abuse. Markus stayed, so pleasurable it was agony.

        In all their time working together, Mark had never seen Markus so uncontrolled. Even if it was the smallest shift, it was a shift. He let Mark pick the pace with no correction, didn't move your leg back when it kicked out, was just biting his lip, eyes closed, taking everything as it came. Mark loved it. Wanted to push more and more. "Say it again! Say it again!" He chanted, rutting against the mass he knew was Markus through the flesh.

        You did. Weepier this time. Markus was hard again, Mark laughing harder. "Again!" Mark pressed in, watching both your faces. Like any good slut, you listened.

        Markus was ready this time. The biggest reaction he gave was a bobbing Adam's apple. You were a different story. Weepy and clawing at Mark's uniform. Moans muffled into Gray's mouth. Mark pushed against him, made you babble and tighten. Felt how easy it was to push you to the edge like this. He found himself falling with you. Cumming inside as he sucked your neck.

        Heaving, unable to take anymore, Mark slid out, limp, and slathered in a mix of juices. He could've stayed there all night, watched you leak his cum while Markus worked you from behind. They didn't have all night and Gray was looking neglected.

        Mark nodded toward you as he shuffled back, "If you want sloppy seconds, she's all yours."

        Gray came around to your front and saw your stretched hole. Obviously used, leaking the emperor's cum. Probably the most valued sperm in the galaxy and you were just letting it slip down your folds. Sure, your body couldn't use it, but you could at least enjoy the gift he'd given. Ungratefully, you oozed a shining sliver. Soon it'd pool low, hit the floor. As Grand General of Viltrum, he wouldn't let that happen. His fingers slipped in the mess, pushing the seed back inside. You arched and keened, body uncontrollable around him. Walls sucking in greedily. Wanting more, always wanting more. Begging babble off your lips, something between Gray and please. He realized hazily, you wanted him inside you.

        You were easy to slide inside. Perfectly lubricated as Mark had left you. Flesh a writhing mind of its own, yours clearly gone. Nothing behind your eyes but still, your body arched into the sensation like it was the only thing keeping you alive. An animalistic instinct you blindly gave into. No wonder Viltrumites had to step in and save your race from self-immolation. He saved you from your writhing and pushed into your wanting body. 

        Every time before, you'd been controlled and coaxing. Now you could only shake. Liquid hot around him. Giving wherever he pushed except at the bottom of his cock. He rocked against it. Markus tried to suppress a shake.

        Procreation courses were slim teachings on Viltrum, here and home. Simply, insert, deposit, done. Impersonal as possible, at least that's what Father told him when he was young. He walked in and overheard the opposite at home but another child never came. He asked himself why through the years, but never them or anyone else. Procreation an open secret nobody talked about even among the Graysons. 

        He knew a little more each time, in the desert, in the medbay, on Markus' bed, why. And now, like this, knew even more why. The deep, biological urge to breed. The purpose, fruitless on your body with its shredded womb, the pleasure in its stead the link.

         You didn't think about it. You simply took, asking for something you could never have. He gave. Faster, faster, needing to push deeper, harder. The action was useless but you needed it, he needed it. He thrust into you anyways, possessed. Perhaps it was the way you cried around his kiss, or Mark whooping at his back, or the reassurance of feeling Markus too inside you, but Gray couldn't stop, rhythm unplanned and careless and harsh. He wouldn't until he'd filled you, until you'd taken what you needed.

        He'd always gone first embarrassingly fast. This time, you came for an unknown time. Body so overworked it was hardly a change but the extra squeeze, the weep against his lips, it nearly sent him spilling. He held on by threads. Wanted to try and see your orgasm through. Take care of you as a human needed to be.

        Mark watched, half-mast, and brows high, "Didn't think you had it in you!" He reached out to clap Gray's shoulder. A growl. A thrust all the way deep, nothing would keep him from this. Mark reeled back, "Whooaa, I'm not gonna take 'er away from you, man."

        Gray shifted his head to your shoulder, watching Mark to make sure he wouldn't interfere. Mark backed up a step, wheezing a laugh. "All yours." Gray turned back into your neck, listening hard for a lie. He only heard your erratic pulse and moaning. Only felt you getting close again. 

        He licked and tasted sweat, liked the way your hips met his thrust at the feeling and sucked. Gently, as not to bruise, his hands hypocritically doing just that on your hips. Again, you came. Two pulses in, his seed mixed with the emperor's. Still, he rocked, brain that of an animals, body slowly shutting down. 

        Only when he'd fully stopped, started to relax into you, did he realize where he was. His teeth in your neck, his softening cock in your body. Selfishly, your body pulsed, tried to make him fill you again. But he could feel all his skin and perceive the other's judgment so he pulled out. Your body was heaving, his mark left on your neck, freshly blooming bruises and the sharp outlines of his teeth. He felt himself twitch despite everything as he watched you pulse, a trail of your release, of his and the emperors, slip out in a shining trail. 

        Markus watched Mark to see if he'd jump back in. He didn't. Simply stood back, marveling with Gray at the ruined state of your body. 

        "Is it fucked up if I want sloppy thirds?" 

        You couldn't say yes, say no, say anything at all. Sweaty and dehydrated and defiled all over. Markus guided your legs shut like a book. "She's had enough. I'm going to pull out now, okay?"

        "Aw, come on." Mark whined, "I can go again." His arm beeped. "Oh shit."

        Markus felt the same way. So distracted he'd lost track of time, not even fully outside of you when they should be out the door. He took his time anyway. The Hydroxians would die no matter how long it took them to get there.

        You went wherever Markus put you. On the desk, a glass against your lips. Mark's hand at your crown, holding you up. Gray between your legs, cleaning with a wipe despite his desire to do so with his tongue. Words passed between them. What to do, who to do it, working together for your sake. You heard none of it, blood rushing loudly in your ears as you tried to find yourself through the haze. 

        Another chunk of debris blacked out the sun. Someone called Mark's datapad. Impatience from their end, petulance from Mark's. They didn't leave the office till you were clothed, babbling that you were fine despite the way you were shaking. They didn’t have time to waste, so Mark picked you up off of weak legs. 

        The council was waiting outside. Battle-ready. Glaring at you boneless in the emperor's arms. Good mood already soured, he spat, "Wait five fuckin' minutes, Jesus."

        "We've been waiting for you to debrief the human for over an hour." Thula said, "And then some."

        Mark floated right past her. "And what have you been doing during that time?" Said haughtily, as if minutes ago he weren't a mess. 

        "Waiting." She snapped. 

        "And not rechecking scanners or gathering the other stupid versions of me or doing anything else? As expected Thula, great work!"

        Kregg moved ahead of her, "Most of the others are waiting by the east wing exit. We've been waiting for the last of them to call in."

        "You didn't go find them?" Mark floated down a hole. One of many shortcuts through the ship you couldn't take. 

        "Well, you've restricted my access to the lab, which I find-"

        "I don't give a shit what you think." Mark paused at the ion blaster's slowly opening door. "I'll do it myself." He said over the whoosh of air, cleansing him and the rest of you of sex stench and sweat, "Stop following us and get to the east wing." 

        Kregg, like the bitch he was, nodded and left. The council followed, Thula dragging behind. Mouth sour like she wanted to say something. Eyes squinted on you. One look from Mark and she too, turned.

        You landed where you started, in a bed. They didn't stay long, just enough to settle you down. Ordered up a platter of food and drink. To warn, "Stay here," and quietly wish they had more time. Then they were gone.

        ***

        Gone. Just like that.

        Pause, rewind, watch again, slower.

        The planet, white clouded and yellow bodied, was there one second. Happily producing nano tech for its long beloved Viltrum overlords. The next, a blip, a five frame flash in the atmosphere. Forty-seven seconds of nothing. Then the whole screen went white. Two seconds solid, five seconds fading. No more clouds, no more production under them. Hulleia was a ball of fire and chunks. Culprit nowhere to be seen.

        Rewind. 

        All five frames dragged onto individual screens. Analyzed by eye and artificial intelligence. Obviously, the flash was some sort of ship. It's full scope was hidden, only a slip of it's silhouette shown, the rest faded into transparency. What Grayson could see, the impression of a body. Eight pixels tall, four wide, red and tan. Thragg. 

        No images of how he left the ship or got back on. Simply was, he was too fast, too far from the camera, multiple solar bodies away and zoomed in to the max. Combined with Viltrumite speed and the cloaking tech he had to be using. Tech not in Viltrum's extensive library of rebel contraband. Meticulously cataloged and identifiable from hundreds of thousands of miles away.

        How was he doing this? 

        Mark wanted to know. The Coalition wanted to know. Grayson had no answers and his coworker couldn't help. Poor guy was the last one standing beside Grayson. Sleeping on the floor because Mark hadn't let them leave in God knows how long. The others died hours ago, from exhaustion, starvation, he couldn't be sure, their bodies cooling on the floor. Their only crime was having the same answer for Mark that Grayson had: They didn't know. 

        Grayson at least got a break to go to meetings, but then he was right back down here. Sleepless with an empty stomach. His nubs ached at the tips. He misstepped constantly, let things slip through mechanical digits, entered data in wrong. Body missing its eaten flesh more and more with every missed meal. Call it nostalgia, trauma, whatever, Grayson didn't have time to label the phantom ache in his body.

        His arm buzzed. Fantastic, another demand from Mark. He didn't want to check the notification but he had to.

        Freight received. 

       It didn't click until his eyes were burning- he remembered to blink. He typed back, ETA? The cameras already on loop, had been for the last half hour. If Mark checked and caught the sleeper, Grayson would lose his last bit of help.

        This channel isn't secure enough to relay that information.

        Bullshit.

        Then it isn't secure enough to receive further updates from my end. 

        As soon as he sent it, he shoved cold fingers into his eyelids. Knowing he could've, should've worded the message less obviously. They would never trust him, but the thin facade of allegiance wouldn't survive an acknowledgement of their ulterior movies. They could easily cease all communications and he really would go mad.

        Minutes passed. He considered sending an apology, a threat, a plea, anything for a response. Just as the words started to congeal together, his arm pinged again.

        If the flagship is to continue on your reported trajectory, our ship will enter Viltrum airspace eighteen hours after you've landed. 

        How long away was that again? Grayson couldn't remember. So long he'd spent down here without checking the time. The light never changing, his body never resting. Had Hydrox happened? Had they simply forgotten him in his locked cage? Were they on path to Viltrum now? 

        Perhaps they were. Engines about to blow to beat Thragg. That's what he thought they were doing anyway. The council agreed upon it in the meeting to cut an over week long trip in half. Everyone perpetually on agent fourteen so their organs wouldn't shut down from overexertion, doing so many near break-neck drive-by takeovers. How long had it been since that meeting?

        Another question. Would destroying the engines be enough? Thragg's ship was last seen destroying a planet a solar system away from the flagship. Whatever vessel he was on was fast. Maybe faster than the emperor's. He could be on Viltrum before they were. Could be there right now. Waiting. No cameras had picked him up in a day or so. 

        And you know who would know that- who wouldn't want him to know that? The Coalition. Waiting in the wings to pick off the stragglers after Thragg cleaned house. Just the sort of underhanded thing he'd plan. The best case for them. Worst for him, for you. 

        They could've been lying about helping him. They could care less about you. They got what they needed. Why would they even need to tell him an accurate time of arrival at this point? Why would-

        Visual on Thragg?

        They didn't have what Viltrum had. Good tech. Better cameras. They still needed him, maybe, or this was all a ruse to keep him unsuspecting. He had to keep them unsuspecting that he knew- if that was true. Maybe it wasn't, or- God, he needed to sleep.

        Another colony destroyed, Hulleia.

        Just as he sent his response, the largest screen on the wall blared. A call from the emperor himself. Scrambling, Grayson shut off the loop. Sloppy, obvious, but he had to. 

        Mark looked down at him from a shuffling camera far under his chin. "The fuck are you still doing down there?"

        ***

        Skirting between skyscrapers when he was a new flier was easier than this. Everything was moving fast, and Seb was getting real tired of getting smashed over the head with fatass chunks of space junk. Junk so big when he tried to break through it, he got lost for minutes at a time.

        The darkness didn't help. After navigating through cracks in the first few layers, any lick of red light was gone. Sure, he could see better than a human could in the dim,  but another layer later he was near blind. Couldn't see the others to follow them. Couldn't hear them either, not consistently anyway. The communicator in his ear hissed and spat like a shitty car radio. Only getting shittier the deeper in he went. 

        It wasn't right. Viltrum was perfect or some bullshit, this didn't happen. His radio had to be broken, he took the wrong path because he was stupid- no shame in that. He turned around because the others had to be too. Took a long time but he wiggled out of the third ring of claustrophobia hell. 

        Seb expected to see the others waiting cross-armed for him because, "What took you so long?" but there was nobody. He looked left, right, up, down. Nobody still, just the swirling mass of debris, the path he'd navigated down already gone. He could've circled the planet in under a minute to double check. Could've. But the ship was right there, glowing with sweet, sweet light, and if he was a little lucky, empty of stiff asses. 

        He landed in the west wing. Half expected to be yelled at and pushed back out. Not a soul. Not even in the halls or around corners or outside the emperor's room. The bud his ear had gone fully quiet now. It'd never done that before. Always Kregg checking in or Gray over-explaining or Mark bitching. Someone else would figure it out, not him.

        There was a single soul he cared about on the ship. Sitting on the emperor's bed, picking fruits off a platter.