The roar of a thousand alien voices vibrated through the amphitheater dome like thunder made of starlight. Holographic banners shimmered in languages Lior barely recognized, displaying his name in bright, pulsating fonts. “Lior. Lior. Lior.” It echoed in all tongues, woven with praise, worship, lust, and adoration.

He stood backstage beneath a curtain of crystal strands, his silhouette ghosting across the mirrored walls. His tailored performance suit clung like molten obsidian, glittering with programmed constellations that shimmered with each of his breaths. High black boots kissed the curve of his thighs, and delicate silver chains hung from his shoulders to his wrists, glowing with bio-synchronized light.

“Thirty seconds, Lior.” His manager's voice crackled in his earpiece. “They're ready for you.”

“I’m always ready,” Lior purred.

The lights dimmed. Silence. Then—

Explosion.

The stage ignited in simulated supernova bursts. Lior walked into the chaos, each step conjuring sound and fire. The dome above swirled with a galaxy projection, making it feel like the audience was floating in space, orbiting him. As he lifted the mic, his voice poured into them like liquid night.

He sang of gravity and longing, of fractured nebulae and forbidden kisses beneath twin moons. The languages of a dozen systems flowed from his lips like poetry. Fans wept. Others screamed. Some just pressed their hands to their chests like they were praying.

But as the final note trembled into silence, Lior was already slipping away.

Because tonight—unlike every other award night—he had somewhere else to be.

Two hours later, the glitter was gone. The suit was in a locked vault. The chains—along with the persona of “Lior, Galactic Siren”—had vanished.

Now he stood at the gates of Astralis Academy, dressed in a dull slate-gray uniform, a duffel over one shoulder and star-dust in his hair. No paparazzi. No fanfare. Just a student badge clipped to his chest that read:

Name: Elion Aris

Program: Galactic History & Sonic Physics

Year: 2

He entered quietly. The Academy was a fortress carved into the side of a floating asteroid, orbiting the twilight moon of Arcanis. Its towers curved like petrified wings, its halls glowing with soft blue light. AI drones drifted above, monitoring discipline and hall passes.

“Elion!” a familiar voice called.

He turned, heart thudding despite himself.

There he was—Kael.

His roommate. His complication.

Kael was an enigma—top of his Combat Astronomy class, a rebel with a scar on his brow and hands that looked like they could both strangle and soothe. Tall, lean, always in motion. His voice was smoke and static. His laugh—rare—was like heat in deep space.

“You’re late,” Kael said, folding his arms.

“I got caught up,” Elion muttered, brushing past.

Kael caught his wrist. “What is that?”

“What?”

“Glitter. On your neck.”

Fuck.

“None of your business,” Elion snapped, jerking away and walking faster.

Back in their shared dorm pod, tension thickened like ozone before a storm. Kael sat shirtless on his bunk, muscles limned with soft light. Elion, fresh from the shower, stood in only a towel. Their room was quiet but humming.

“You vanish every weekend,” Kael said, not looking up. “You come back exhausted, marked up, like you’ve been kissed by a star dragon.”

“Stop romanticizing it.”

“Then tell me the truth.”

Elion turned, voice sharp. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Kael stood, suddenly in his space, close—too close. “Then why do I hear you moaning my name in your sleep?”

Silence.

The air between them throbbed.

Kael’s fingers curled around Elion’s towel and tugged—just enough.

“You think I don’t see it?” Kael whispered. “The way you look at me like I’m both danger and rescue?”

Elion's breathing turned shallow.

“I don’t have time for this,” he murmured.

“Then make time,” Kael growled.

Then—heat.

Kael pushed him gently but firmly against the cool metal wall. The towel dropped, forgotten. Their lips met in a crash of fire and ice. Tongues tangled, fingers clutched. Kael kissed like he’d been starved for lifetimes, and Elion melted against him, arching, gasping as calloused hands explored hypersensitive skin.

Elion bit Kael’s lower lip. Kael’s response was a growl that made his knees buckle.

Kael lifted him effortlessly, pressing him back against the wall, grinding into him. Their bodies aligned like planets locked in gravitational hunger.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” Kael breathed against his throat. “Tell me I’m not imagining it.”

“You’re not,” Elion gasped.

Kael sucked a mark just below his jaw. “Then shut up and let me show you what your glitter tastes like.”

The bed groaned under them, the mattress molded by their writhing bodies.

Elion was on his back, eyes wild, lips parted. Kael hovered over him, mouth trailing heat down his chest, tongue swirling around a nipple, hand gripping his thigh.

“Spread,” Kael commanded, and Elion obeyed, no trace of his stage arrogance—just raw, quivering need.

Kael licked a trail lower, breath hot, tongue bold. Elion whimpered, thighs shaking. Then—

Kael took him in his mouth.

Elion cried out, back arching. Kael’s mouth was skill and sin, slow and punishing, sucking him down until Elion’s fingers clenched the sheets like lifelines.

“Kael—fuck—Kael—”

Kael pulled back just enough to murmur, “Taste like a goddamn meteor storm.”

Elion trembled. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Kael didn’t.

He teased and devoured, built him up and dragged him back, until Elion shattered beneath his tongue, his cry echoing in the dorm like the final chord of a galactic symphony.

They lay tangled together, sweat cooling, breath slowing. Kael’s fingers played with the tips of Elion’s damp hair.

“You’re hiding something,” he whispered.

Elion’s heart thudded. “Would you hate me if you knew?”

“I think I’d fuck you harder.”

Elion laughed, soft and bitter.

Kael turned serious. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to be alone.”

For the first time in months, Elion felt the weight of solitude shift. His secret—his double life—pressed at his chest, but something in Kael's voice made it easier to carry.

“Not tonight,” Elion said, curling into him. “Let me just be this.”

Kael kissed his forehead. “You can be anything. Just don’t disappear.”

And as they drifted to sleep, starlight spilled through the high window, brushing their skin like a promise.

---

The next morning, Lior—no, Elion again—dragged himself to his Galactic Ethics class, still aching from Kael’s touch, haunted by the bruises he'd begged for. He had barely slept. Not because Kael hadn’t held him—he had—but because the heat of it all still sizzled under his skin like embers refusing to die out.

But when he stepped into the vast crystalline amphitheater that served as their lecture hall, the buzzing of bored students fell into an unexpected hush. Everyone was staring—not at him, for once.

They were staring at someone new.

A boy stood at the base of the stairs. Alone. Still. Dressed head to toe in matte black.

Black boots. Black gloves. Black tailored uniform with no academy crest. He wore a high collar, a sleek capelet, and had jet-dark hair that shimmered under the artificial daylight panels. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t have to.

Even without a word, he commanded presence like gravity.

Kai Vireon.

Lior felt the name pulse in his head like it had weight. His skin tightened.

A murmur passed through the class.

“That’s the Nova Council’s heir.”

“No. You’re joking. Why would he transfer here?”

“I heard he killed someone with just a look.”

“No, it was a nerve crush technique from Draykon.”

Lior took a seat.

The boy in black climbed the stairs slowly and sat directly behind him.

He didn’t look. He didn’t speak.

But Lior could feel his eyes on the back of his neck.

Later that evening, in the Academy’s dusk-lit garden domes, Lior sat beside Kael on a glowing bench. Kael was tense, his arm draped protectively behind Lior’s shoulders—not touching him, but close. Too close.

“You’ve heard the name before,” Kael muttered.

“Kai Vireon. Yeah.” Lior kicked a pebble with his boot. “Rumors, mostly. Rich. Powerful. Adopted by the Nova Council. Trained off-world.”

Kael glanced sideways. “He’s dangerous.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” Kael said tightly. “I just don’t like assassins.”

Lior snorted. “He’s not an assassin.”

“He’s not just anything.”

Later, as they returned to their dorm level, Lior felt the presence before he saw it. That same eerie calm.

Kai Vireon stood at the far end of the corridor, black gloved hands clasped behind his back.

And then—he turned, slowly, deliberately—and looked straight at Lior.

For the first time in his life, Lior’s fame didn’t matter.

Two nights later, Lior stumbled into a study lab for late access to the audio physics console. He wasn’t expecting company.

But Kai Vireon was already there. Alone. Seated like a shadow on the edge of a plasma desk, gloves removed, pale fingers trailing over the glass surface.

He didn’t look up.

Lior hesitated. “You always sit in the dark?”

Kai’s eyes flicked to him—piercing, glass-grey, unblinking.

“I prefer silence.”

“Well, silence prefers you back,” Lior said, attempting a smirk.

Kai tilted his head. “Do you always speak like you’re on stage?”

Lior froze.

Kai stood, approaching. His steps were eerily soundless. Lior backed up until he felt the panel wall behind him.

Kai stopped a breath away.

“You sing,” Kai murmured, voice low. “But offstage… you're something else. Messy. Loud. Soft.”

“What the hell do you want?”

Kai reached up, brushed something from Lior’s collar. “To study.”

“Then study the console,” Lior snapped.

“I’d rather study you.”

Lior's breath caught.

Before he could think, Kai pressed his hand against the wall beside Lior’s head and leaned in. Not touching. But close. Too close.

“Stay away from me,” Lior whispered.

“I’d rather not.”

And then—his lips grazed Lior’s neck.

Not a kiss. A warning. Or a test.

Lior shoved him back—but not with strength. With need.

“Fuck you,” Lior hissed.

Kai smirked. “Eventually.”

The next night, Lior dreamed of hands in silk gloves sliding down his chest, peeling away his shirt like skin. He woke sweating, throbbing. Alone.

But the night after that, Kai followed him.

Lior had taken a lift pod to the lower observatory, hoping for privacy. Hoping to escape the way Kai’s gaze lingered, the way Kael had grown distant since the boy in black arrived.

The door hissed open behind him.

Kai entered. Silent.

Lior turned. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to know what makes you sing.”

“I sing because I can.”

“No,” Kai said. “You sing like it hurts. Like you're trying to outshine your own pain.”

Silence.

Then—movement.

Kai was on him. Fast. Hungry. Their mouths clashed, not romantic—wild. Lior bit his lip, tasted copper. Kai didn’t flinch. He responded by gripping Lior’s hips and grinding against him until their bodies screamed for friction.

Lior groaned. “I hate you.”

Kai whispered, “You want me.”

Their lips crashed again.

Kai dropped to his knees in the dark. Slid Lior’s pants down. Licked a stripe up the inside of his thigh.

Lior gasped, head thudding against the cool wall of the observatory.

“Kai—”

But Kai already had him in his mouth. Sucking slow, deep, obscene. Lior fisted his hair, moaned into the stars, legs trembling.

“Don’t—stop—”

Kai didn’t. He devoured, consumed, worshipped with lips and tongue until Lior exploded with a cry that echoed through the dome like a siren's wail.

Kai rose slowly, licking his lips.

“You taste like sound itself,” he whispered.

Lior collapsed, panting.

He hated how much he wanted more.

That night, back in his dorm, Kael was gone.

And a new message blinked on his comm:

> “I want to see you again.

I’ll bring gloves.

—K”

Lior deleted it.

But he didn’t block the sender.

Not yet.

---

The second sun of Astralis had barely kissed the rim of the artificial atmosphere dome when Lior staggered into Advanced Harmonic Applications, his jacket still half open and his collar hiding bruises from two nights ago. Not that anyone would notice. Not with Kai Vireon already seated by the window, the glow of twin stars casting sharp angles across his impossibly calm face.

Professor Emeron, a half-cybernetic being whose eye flickered every three seconds, didn’t waste time. "You’ll be working in pairs," she said in that glitch-tinged voice, "to analyze acoustic wave distortion across mixed-frequency fields. Group assignments are preselected. No negotiation."

Lior didn’t even glance up until he felt it—a chill down his spine.

"Elion Calvess and Kai Vireon."

A few muffled snorts. One gasp.

Kai stood with silent, precise grace, pulling his chair beside Lior with the cold efficiency of a blade drawn from its sheath.

Their knees touched.

Lior didn’t move.

"You reek of sweat and... regret," Kai murmured just for him.

Lior offered a dangerous smile. "You reek of control issues and daddy's credits."

Kai turned to face him directly, their knees now locked. "You didn't block me."

"I should have."

"But you didn't."

---

Lab Room Theta-19. 5th Period.

It wasn’t just a room. It was a womb of sound. Designed with soft-black acoustic panels, hovering frequency tools, suspended audio crystal spheres, and recording nodes that tracked every breath, vibration, and echo.

They stood alone inside, assigned to create a complex duet sequence that layered physical resonance with vocal output.

"You sing," Kai said, studying him like a puzzle. "But your voice isn’t what seduced half the system. It’s what you hide in it."

Lior leaned into the control panel. "You analyze everyone like they’re enemy targets?"

Kai moved closer. "Just the ones who make my pulse rise."

Lior turned. "You have a pulse?"

"You’ve felt it."

Kai was behind him now. A breath away. Lior felt a gloved hand trace the line of his spine through his academy-issue shirt. Every inch tingled.

"We're supposed to work," Lior whispered.

"We are. I'm studying resonance."

Kai pressed against him fully. The friction was instant—their bodies aligned like magnets set to explode.

Lior gasped, arms bracing against the panel.

Kai leaned in and licked just behind his ear.

"Your frequency vibrates at 212.3 hertz when you're resisting me."

Lior shivered. "And when I stop resisting?"

Kai spun him fast, gripped his wrists, and pinned them above his head against the soundproof panel.

Lior moaned before he could stop it.

"Then you shatter."

Their mouths met—hot, violent, unstoppable.

Clothes didn’t come off. They were torn.

Gloves stayed on. Kai used them to slide under Lior’s waistband, fingers stroking, teasing, gripping.

Lior bucked against him, grinding, desperate.

"Tell me to stop," Kai whispered.

"Fuck you."

Kai chuckled. "Later."

He dropped to his knees again—but this time, it was more than a tease.

He devoured.

Lior's hands slammed the wall, head thrown back, knees weak. The frequency sensors around them blinked red and violet, capturing moans, gasps, curses—layered into a chaotic harmonic blend so intense it began generating waves in the crystal fields.

"Kai—gods, stop—"

"Say please."

"Please... harder."

Kai growled and pulled Lior closer.

No softness. No mercy. Just raw need and raw sound.

When Lior came, the entire wall of audio spheres burst into light, vibrating with their climax.

Silence followed. He collapsed into Kai’s arms.

Still panting, Kai whispered against his ear, "Next time, you'll be the one on your knees."

Lior smirked. "You think there's going to be a next time?"

Kai's hand slipped between his thighs again. "You're still hard."

---

Later, in the hallway.

Their classmates passed them by, unaware of the feral collision that had just rewritten everything between them.

Lior walked away first.

Kai let him.

But as he turned the corner, Lior felt it—a new message buzzed into his comm:

> "You break better than anyone I've ever touched.

I can't wait to do it again.

—K."

Lior didn’t respond.

But his hand slid down slowly, remembering the pressure, the heat, the sound.

He was already hard again.

And the next class with Kai was only an hour away...