The Boy in the Black Uniform

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.

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