Chapter 3.

Syl woke early, eyes scratchy and sore. His watch read four am and when he pushed a button, to roll up the blackout curtains, a few stars were still shining beside the spaceship.

His mind was restless and his skin itched with nervous energy. He considered a trip to the gym to alleviate the stress, but dismissed it quickly. He wouldn't feel right doing anything self-indulgent, until he'd talked to his dad about Reja.

He wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish (what his father could do), but his conscience would eat away at him, if he didn't at least try to help the alien.

He took a shower and dressed in a simple grey t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers. He downed a bottle of water and paced around his room, counting down the time.

At nine am he phoned the vice secretary, Sean Edwards. He hadn't been trusted with a direct number; they couldn't risk the president's sixteen year old calling for every little thing.

"Good morning, Sylvester." Sean's voice drawled in familiar tones of polite condescension.

"Hi, Sean, I need to speak to him. It's urgent." Syl said, hands already growing damp. He felt like he was lying. Like whatever he had to say wasn't important enough to warrant a phone call.

"Are you sure? You know Francis is dealing with a crisis." Papers riffled in the background. "There's probably something I can-" the man's voice cut off and Syl was put on hold.

He made a sound of frustration and sat on a lounge, scrubbing a hand through his hair. How long was this going to take? If Sean decided to, he might book Syl an appointment next week and the negotiations might be finished by then; and the aliens would be gone.

"Sylvester." Sean was back and Syl straightened, eyes widening at the man's clipped tone. "Are you in your suite?"

"Yeah, is everything-"

"I'm sending you an escort to the office. I'm sure it's nothing serious." The line went dead and Syl stared at his phone a moment and then the door.

Two minutes later a couple of black-suited guards arrived. They stayed in the rooms next to him and Syl knew their names, but that was all. They weren't talkative.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity, even though it could only have been seconds.

Syl watched the numbers rolling by and urged them to move faster. He hated the anticipation. What could have happened? He'd never been called in urgently before. Was he in trouble? Had Charisse complained? Had the Talaya?

His throat felt tight by the time they reached the twenty-seventh floor and he coughed into his elbow.

Armed guards filled the corridor and the chief of security showed him inside a pair of gleaming oak doors. He didn't see any Talaya guards.

The office was large and cream colored, with burgundy carpets and sound proof walls. A polished black table took up most the space. A stenographer was present, his father, the presidential cabinet and six Talaya.

Even seated the Talaya towered over the men, making the balding politicians look like gnomes beside fey. One of them was the slender alien he recognized from yesterday.

"Gentlemen, this is my son, Sylvester Blythe." Francis stood and walked around the desk to put a hand on Syl's shoulder.

Syl looked up in surprise. His dad wasn't the type to touch casually. His skin, usually tan and healthy, looked pale under the harsh lights and his frown lines were deep. "Are you certain this was the boy?"

"Yes, that's him." The alien's voices slithered through the room like a chilly breeze. A few men shivered.

Syl risked a peak upwards and caught a hint of a smile on the Talaya's sharp blue lips.

"This hotel staffs several blond boys." Francis continued. "I'll call for a lineup, just to be sure."

"My pet has been terribly upset." The alien continued, as if the man hadn't spoken, "I had to drug him. His temper is delicate, you see."

"Is he okay?" Syl blurted, ignoring the fingers digging warningly into his shoulder. But what was the point in trying to hide it? They knew.

The alien smiled down at him, blood-red eyes narrowing into pleased slits. "He will be. When I have recompense."

The last words were directed at the president, spoken barely above a whisper, but with an edge of steel that sliced into your ears. Francis cleared his throat and loosened his tie as if it felt tight.

"Of-course." The words sounded a tad hoarse. "I'll cover your veterinary bills and you're welcome to any animals you want. Dogs, cats. We even have a zoo downtown."

The Talaya inclined its head and stood. "My thanks. I'll take him." A long spidery hand extended towards Syl, palm up.

Syl's eyes widened and his mouth went dry. He remembered the alien's words yesterday, but he hadn't really understood. My dear, should we keep him?

"My son? That's out of the question." The man's laugh was strained and he pulled Syl back a step. "He's not an animal."

"But he is." The Talaya stated calmly, manicured hand still patiently outstretched. "You humans are as intelligent as many of our pets. Isn't that how you differentiate yourselves from your...animals?"

"With all due respect Mr. Elvyre." Francis lifted his chin and squared his wide shoulders, like Syl had seen him do on the podium dozens of times before. "You've come to our planet as guests and agreed to abide by our customs. He's my child. I won't trade him."

Syl stared up at his dad in silence. This was the closest Francis had ever come to a declaration of love.

The atmosphere in the room changed and the Talaya around the table straightened, red eyes gleaming. The politicians eyed the door uneasily and a few guards checked their weapons.

Elvyre's hand dropped slowly, features smoothing into a blank aristocratic mask. "Yes, we came to you peacefully. As an act of kindness. You're a young species and you're destroying your home. You overpopulate the earth and consume your resources. Harvesting you would greatly benefit your planet."

The president looked stunned and his mouth worked soundlessly, attempting to formulate a reply.

"But we are civilized." The Talaya's voice was silken and he smoothed back a strand of snowy white hair. "I'll settle for punishment."

Syl never saw the blow coming, but he felt a whisper of air against his cheek, and then a fist slammed into his jaw with bone breaking strength. He hurtled towards the wall and his head struck with a sickening crack.

....

Redness flickered over his lids and Syl felt a pinch on his arm. "Open your eyes."

He squinted through his lashes and saw a large black shape haloed by burning white lights. His eyes watered and he quickly closed them.

"Body is hydrated. Try again, it'll only sting for a moment." The voices were soft as a summer breeze and distinctly feminine.

He did so and slowly the lights dimmed to reveal a slender blue face with white hair pulled back in a smooth tail. He was lying in a padded case with glass sides. Green lights warmed his bare skin and the alien detached a tube from his arm. "Sit up."

Syl pushed up weakly on his elbows and his head lolled on his neck. Tremors ran through his body and pain flared behind his eyes. A large hand cradled the back of his head and another propped up his spine. "Weakness is expected. Any pain?"

"Yeah...my head." Syl breathed and squeezed his eyes shut again. Speaking made it hurt worse.

"I'm administering a relaxant."

The hand on his spine withdrew and a cold damp object ran over his neck with a faint hiss of air. The pain faded, his pulse slowed and his muscles went lax.

"Perfectly on time." Elvyre's cool tones murmured and steps approached. "Thank you, sister."

"I said I would be." A hint of annoyance touched her voices and Syl was lifted.

His cheek cushioned against sweet smelling fabric and fingers ran over his skull, pressing gently.

"Excellent work. Is his mind intact?"

"Yes. His intellect doesn't compare to my Kythe, but he is a good companion for a Foll. First grandmother has been trying to reach you."

"I thought he might be. Reja has been dreadfully lonely. Is he fully male?" A touch brushed Syl's lower lip and smoothed lightly over the lashes on his right eye.

"Completely. You know you can't avoid her forever. Our gathering is only four months away."

Elvyre sighed, voices caressing Syl's ears like feathers. "Don't remind me. Would you like to join us for dinner?"

"Yes, I would. I'll bring the deva."

Steps tapped lightly and Syl rocked. It was soothing.

.....

He woke feeling warm and comfortable, body loose and heavy against a mattress. He shifted his knee slightly, still half asleep, and a purr rumbled against his spine.

Rough licks lapped over his nape and a nose burrowed into his hair, breathing hot against his scalp. His eyelids fluttered, too heavy to lift.

A firm push had him rolling limply to his stomach and then a velvety weight settled on top of him. A nudge spread his thighs apart and a warm prickly object slid between his buttocks and pushed against his anus.

Sharp pain had his body jerking and his eyes opened wide for an instant, before falling shut.

"...hurts." His mouth felt clumsy and disconnected.

"Does it?" A breathy lisp and a nuzzle against his jaw. Deep purr vibrating through his bones. "It shouldn't."

A hard pressure was filling him up slowly and scratching his insides like tiny knives. "Ung."

"Does it feel good now? I always like it." Soft suckles on his neck and a warm hand sliding over his waist.

Fog was in his head and Syl wasn't sure if he answered. The member inside him was releasing and filling painfully. Releasing and filling.

....

He woke with a start, breaths heavy and sweat running down his temple. It still hurt, but now it felt less like a cut and more like a dark bruise being prodded over and over. For some reason his cock was hard and rubbing against the sheets.

"Yes. Yes. Mmrrr." Clawed fingers dug into his hips and the thrusts suddenly grew frantic.

Ragged breaths against his ear and heat gushed inside him, making his insides swell.

"Hah." His fingers clutched the bedding feebly and his stomach cramped from the pressure. 

"Rrrr." Sharp teeth set against his nape and the shaft in him turned in deep, sore circles.

"My dear, I told you no." Elvyre's voices sounded exasperated.

"Rrrr." More slow grinding. Stretching. Aching.

The voices sighed and the mattress dipped.

"You never obey. I'm too soft with you." Syl felt a caress on his calf. "He's not going anywhere. He's not even fully conscious yet. Look at me, Reja, see what I have for you. A matching set. Aren't they pretty?"

The body on top of Syl shuddered and the cock in him pulled out in a rush of wet warmth. The pressure eased rapidly and his hands relaxed.

His head felt light and the pain faded. He didn't even twitch at the voices raising in dismay, like a cacophony of bells.

A/N: Have you ever noticed that whenever a politician says "with all due respect" they always mean the opposite.