He grimaced, a scowl on his face as he tested his jaw, felt the lack of his eggs in the sack at the back of his throat. And yet, he didn't feel quite as displeased by their disappearance, wasn't just as disappointed as he should be. His heart had fluttered, cheeks warming at the memory of fingers down his throat, the Alpha so fucking hot Seraphim had almost whimpered.
"Sera," the voice called. A figure loomed in the darkness.
And his eyes darted to the drip of devil-like pupils so sharp and long they twisted and stabbed through the unyielding gold. To a devastatingly handsome face of chiselled features and fox-like eyes, of a God-like overpowering beauty that pierced his heart and forced him straight to his knees.
He was of muscles that rippled thick and golden on a naked body clad only in cloth, of a creation so majestic he could only be a creature of the planet 1. An alien so powerful there was no one better in the universe.
A zeus.
Under the clad feet of his lounging king were Omegas, bent like footstools and trembling, only there to perfume and scent the air, cumming to the radiating power of his head Alpha. And before his leader on their knees were Alpha guides of the highest calibre. There was an Alpha guide nosing at his cock, a second with his tongue over the shaft and a third with his lips around the mushroom head.
But Dante was a mess of needs that could never be satisfied, so unstable that he was glowing with the lightning of his powers. His electricity crackled, and an Omega fell to her knees, collapsed to the ground so close to death from just the vibrations in the air, as another moved to replace her.
Omegas could not touch him. Their deaths were ensured with guiding abilities below S.
The Alphas struggled through the shocks just as Dante remained unbothered and manspreading, his hand over the head of an Alpha pushing him down upon his cock. The guide choked, coughed and whimpered over his length, gurgling spit as his hair turned into ice unable to resist the power of his leader.
Seraphim would do it for him, could do it so much better with his deeper, more muscular throat that could squeeze and pulsate. But he had spent days in bed trying to guide a mate that could never release all of his powers, had already spent hours pulling him out of his state of painful berserk, his asshole raw from the fucking, his cock painfully swollen.
Dante was cursed that way as an Esper that could never find a Guide just as strong as he was, as an Alpha that could never touch an Omega, and thus was incapable of removing the rampage. He would always be berserk and deep in the bowels of insanity.
That was his plague for power.
"Dante," Seraphim greeted.
"What took you so long?" was his answering growl, the raspy groan velvety as it swept over Seraphim, and he dismissed the guides with a raise of his brow. The servants left with a bow, dragging with them the bodies of those that could not move. The ground swept free of honeyed sleek and cum with a snap of his fingers, technology deep cleaning the area. "You're hurt."
"The new boy," Seraphim explained, hands wrapped around the neck of his soulmate, shivering at the sizzle of electricity, at the burn of his winter snow. "He took our eggs."
There was silence, one that vibrated with the deep quivering beginnings of rage as Dante's hands wrapped around his throat and Seraphim opened obediently, allowed his Alpha to feel around his mouth. His ability to touch Dante was a comforting reminder of his strength, that Seraphim wasn't the one broken from Rue. Rue had been the monster.
"They're gone," Seraphim whimpered, felt the curl of disappointment drift swiftly through their bond as his chest pressed against his mate's. "They're dead. I couldn't stop him." But there was no pain in his soul when the memory of Rue crushing the eggs rushed into his mind. Instead, he was mildly impressed.
The creation process of a poseidon's egg hadn't been simple. Seraphim's own was so difficult to keep alive simply because he was too strong. But to go beyond that and merge the essence of seven of the strongest alphas, creating brood so powerful that the eggs should explode was a near impossible feat.
It had been his first and only set that survived. It was a fact that Rue didn't quite understand: that it was impossible for an Omega to withstand the eggs, to even touch them, was to brush their hands upon the rawest form of energy in the universe. And Omegas could not withstand that, so lacking in power themselves that they would only take the energy within them and explode.
Only an Alpha Guide could cultivate the eggs into life.
"Should we kill him?" were the words from his leader, fingers rubbing his bruises.
"No," Seraphim surprised himself, the denial so strong it burned in his throat with his siren's voice. "The babies want him."
"Sera," was the answer from his younger, Dante hissing his distress. The alien twisted his fingers through Seraphim's hair, stroking the locks. Unlike the guides, his hair did not freeze, remained soft and silky under his fingertips. "We don't have to listen to the babies. They'll get over it. Look at them, all gone the moment their boy arrived. They only want their revenge, no matter what they believed him to be in their youth." There was a bark of laughter. "Altair's insistence on keeping him here was unnecessary. Our mate's only interested in the drama, in all the jealousy that he can eat and taste in their soul. And you don't see the little boy in your visions. He's not our eighth."
"No," Seraphim agreed quickly, hardness setting in his jaw. "But I saw something today in the water," was the whisper from Seraphim's lips. "Rue could take it. The eggs. They grew inside him, round and solid with children that moved and swam. With ten tiny fingers and ten little toes. Perfect mixtures of us, little ones with heterochromia. One had eyes that were yours and mine, an Alpha boy."
There was a pause as he closed his eyes, the memory sweeping through him swiftly. The image on the water had formed the moment he'd laid his eyes on Rue. The whisper of a ripple upon the surface had showed him with his hands on Rue's belly. The roundness of growth and a smile so big it felt painful on Seraphim's cheeks. He'd been looking within Rue, had seen the sway of amniotic fluid within the eggs, seen the children within, so beautiful he'd almost wept with joy.
"I was excited—Too excited. I tried to do it then, thought my voice could easily convince him to bend to be bred, and then my saliva to tie him down as our slave. But he was too strong. I was too greedy. I-should have known. He is someone that could deny our golden darling, after all."
Dante's fingers brushed over his cheeks, hands over the bruising. And Seraphim shivered as he dug his fingers deep into the painful marks. "Interesting that he could best you. You should have waited for me. I would have done it easily for you. If he's not as weak as you say, perhaps he will not die under my hands—"
"He is weak," Seraphim reasoned. "His bones are brittle, his flesh so thin. The blood so easy to flow. I believe he would not be able to stand in your presence. And yet, he resisted my voice. He resisted my poison in his body and he could touch me. He overpowered me. He's far more capable than what he appears to be."
"And he's just a weakling," Dante laughed, the sound thundered and shook, "the little thing must be from a planet over 50. Seemed like a being with only a hundred-year life span, and so lacking in ability. Perhaps advanced technology drapes his little frame. I'm beginning to think that the stench in the hallway is a little too strong for his figure, that his scent is not what he truly is."
"We'll try again?" Seraphim asked, eyes wide and beseeching as he pouted at his mate. "It'll take a while, for me to go into my Rut, perhaps with Rue there it'll be easier to create the eggs. And then we can make a new set together, all seven of us. One more batch." He breathed deeply. "My visions never go wrong."
"Very well, for now," Dante's hands brushed against his cheek. "Perhaps you should garner his trust. We don't want him in armour the next time when we try again." His hands reached to his waist, thumbs digging into the dips of his body, lips pressed to the curve of his neck.
Seraphim bit back the words he wanted to say, his cock swelling at the sight of his mate and the pain returned pulsing in his length. The momentary softness was a blessing that he wanted to relive. And yet he could not for fear of his soulmates learning of the truth, to know that it was not them that let loose his contained jizz, but an outsider not foretold in their stars that gave it to him and survived.
A poseidon's true orgasm was a sacred gift from the sea, an unstudied, revered secret of his people.
Rue was a partner he was meant to wed and should breed under the laws of the ocean. In all technicalities, Rue was now his husband. But for now, he refused to succumb to that little Alpha not until the waters showed him the truth of what Rue was meant to be.
Not until he understood Rue.