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Aether's Obsession is an explicit 18+ MM sci-fi romance.
Contains **graphic sexual content** including:
- Detailed oral, anal, fingering, rimming, and penetration scenes
- Edging, teasing, marking (bites/bruises), possessive/dominant dynamics
- Alien biology (ridges, self-lubrication, heat-like responses)
- Size difference, power imbalance, and mild dub-con elements (biological compulsion/heat)
Additional mature themes;
- Jealousy, possessiveness, and emotional hurt/comfort
- Power struggles, political intrigue, and betrayal
- Brutal violence (graphic fights, physical combat, injury, blood, death threats, and on-page depictions of violent confrontations as the story progresses)
All main-pairing intimacy is ultimately consensual, though early scenes involve overwhelming instinctual urges and confusion.
Violence is contextual to the plot (clan conflicts, battles, assassination attempts) and not gratuitous, but it is intense and described in detail.
Reader discretion is strongly advised. This is adult fantasy fiction with dark elements.
If graphic sex, violence, or power dynamics are triggering or not your preference, please consider skipping this story.
In the 25th century, Earth has ascended to the pinnacle of interstellar civilization. Quantum drives, neural interfaces, and bio-engineered enhancements have propelled humanity beyond Sol, forging diplomatic ties and cautious alliances with a dozen alien species across the Orion Arm. Trade routes hum with exotic materials, shared knowledge reshapes medicine and physics, and the Interstellar Concord enforces fragile peace among the stars. Yet even in this era of wonders, one discovery shattered every preconception: Zephyria.
The planet was first glimpsed by a rogue deep-scan probe in 2487. A world defying known physics. Floating archipelagos drift through aurora-veiled skies, oceans cascade upward into crystalline clouds, and mountains reshape nightly under the pulse of an unseen force called Aether. Its core is not molten rock but a living nexus of spiritual energy that bends reality itself. The revelation rippled far beyond Earth. Scientists from Thalorian outposts, Vorathian shadow-courts, and even reclusive Krell collectives scrambled to verify the data. Zephyria was no mere exoplanet; it was a cosmic anomaly, a potential key to immortality, unlimited power, or apocalyptic collapse. The Concord declared it restricted only the most vetted minds, lest reckless contact destabilize the galaxy.
From Earth came the call for the first sanctioned expedition: three scientists, handpicked for their brilliance and resilience. Dr. Lirian Voss, a xenobiologist renowned for decoding alien ecosystems; Dr. Mara Kade, a hardened astrophysicist who mapped black-hole coronas; and Dr. Elias Thorne, a bio-engineer whose neural implants once saved a dying colony. Their mission: study Zephyria's Aether core, document its anomalies, and return with data that could redefine energy, biology, and existence itself. The journey promised madness—navigating gravity pockets that could age or youth a traveler in moments, threading magnetic storms that rewrite memories, and surviving time-dilated zones where hours stretch into years.
But the true danger lay beneath the surface. Zephyria's core was dying, its light fading, quakes fracturing floating isles. Ancient prophecies whispered among the Thalorians spoke of a "fragile star-bringer" whose essence could restore it. Unknown to the Earth team, the Vorathians' ruthless shadow-empire of shape-shifters and life-force feeders had long coveted the core. For centuries, they had plotted to consume Zephyria's Aether, believing it a stolen fragment of their ancestral nexus. The arrival of humans threatened their secret infiltration; Lirian's latent Aether trace, inherited from forgotten ancient contact, made him the unwitting catalyst for salvation or catastrophe.
As the trio descends to the crystal citadel of the Thalorian court, alliances fracture, secrets unravel, and forbidden bonds form. The mission becomes a crucible of survival, desire, and destiny. What begins as a scientific inquiry spirals into a war for the planet's soul. If they succeed, Zephyria blooms anew, rewriting the Vorathian empire's history from conquerors to exiles. If they fail, the galaxy falls to darkness. Three humans, one dying world, and the weight of stars' history will never be the same.
Third-person POVThe archives were silent except for the faint chime of crystal shelves shifting to display requested texts. Lirian had come here after an evening meal, seeking solitude among the glowing data orbs. The confrontation in Hydralis still burned in his chest—anger, confusion, and that persistent, humiliating slickness that refused to fade. He needed answers. Any answers.He didn’t hear Draven approach.One moment, he was reaching for a hovering orb labeled “Aether Resonance Cycles”; the next, a tall shadow blocked the light.Draven Thalor leaned against the nearest shelf, arms crossed, smiling lazily and sharp. His eyes, darker violet than Vaelor’s, tracked Lirian’s every movement like a predator sizing up something small and breakable.“Working late, little human?” Draven’s voice was smooth, almost friendly. Too friendly.Lirian stiffened. “Just reviewing data.”Draven stepped closer. Too close. The air between them thickened. “You’ve been very busy. Very… focused. My bro
Vaelor’s POVI should have stayed away.I told myself the assignment was duty, nothing more. The Sovereign wanted the Terran xenobiologist protected in Hydralis waters; I was the only one with Vyrkath blood strong enough to navigate the depths and survive any current that turned murderous. Logical. Necessary.But the moment I saw him step onto the platform lab coat traded for the sleek dive suit that clung to his slender frame like a second skin, something inside me lit up. A low, dangerous hum started in my chest. Lirian. Lirian. Lirian. The name looped in my skull, soft at first, then insistent, like a chant I couldn’t silence. I hated it. Hated how my horns tingled the second his scent reached me—sweet, warm, impossible. I kept my face blank, my voice clipped, but part of me, some traitor fragment, was excited to be near him again.We descended in silence. I watched him from the corner of my eye while he stared out at the glowing grottos, wide-eyed, lips parted. Every time
Third-person POVTwo months had passed in a haze of stolen glances and suppressed heartbeats.Lirian had thrown himself into the work with a ferocity that bordered on obsession. Sample analysis, degradation mapping, Aether resonance charts, anything to drown out the constant, humiliating ache between his legs. The self-lubrication hadn’t stopped; if anything, it had worsened. Every morning, he woke slick and hard, dreams saturated with obsidian horns and violet eyes. He told himself it was environmental. Aether exposure. Anything but the truth: the prince had infected him with a want he couldn’t cure.Tonight the sky was dark velvet, pierced by three moons that looked like pale suns hanging low. Lirian stepped onto the observation deck overlooking the Hydralis descent platform, breath fogging the crystal railing. The underwater city waited below, bioluminescent spires glowing through the inverted ocean like sunken stars.And Vaelor was there.For the first time in weeks.The
Third-person POVFor seven Zephyrian days, each one stretching nearly twice as long as an Earth day. Lirian and Vaelor avoided each other with the precision of opposing magnets.Vaelor had wasted no time after the grove. The next morning, he appeared in the lab corridor only long enough to issue a curt order to the wardens: “Prince Draven will assume oversight of the Terran researchers. I have matters requiring my full attention.” Then he was gone, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the citadel’s crystal walls.Lirian told himself he was relieved. No more towering shadows in the doorway. No more stolen glances that left his pulse racing for no reason. He should have been grieving Lashawn properly, curled up with the ache of betrayal, letting time dull the edges. Instead, every night he woke up gasping from wet dreams that weren’t dreams at all. Phantom touches his skin. A thick, ridged tongue fills his mouth. Hands lifting him like he weighed nothing. And worse, his
Lirian’s POVI needed air. Real air, not the sterile hum of the lab or the polite tension between Mara, Elias, and me. So I slipped out during a lull, lab coat still buttoned over my tunic and jorts, the white fabric billowing behind me like a ghost as I wandered deeper into the palace gardens.The paths twisted through singing crystal trees, their branches chiming softly whenever a breeze moved them. I followed a narrow trail that narrowed until it felt like the garden was swallowing me whole. Then the air changed—thicker, warmer, pulsing. I pushed through a curtain of glowing vines and stepped into a hidden grove.It was wild. Untamed. Aether hung in the air like mist, violet and gold, so dense I could taste it on my tongue. Flowers the size of dinner plates bloomed in impossible colors, petals unfurling as if they sensed me. Vines slithered along the ground, slow and curious, like living smoke. The crystal trees here were older, trunks veined with raw light that throbbed in t
Third-person POVLirian jolted awake with a gasp, heart hammering against his ribs.The nightmare clung to him like damp silk: golden light pouring from his own veins, flooding cracks in a vast, pulsing crystal heart. The core had screamed—low, resonant, furious—as if his blood was acid instead of salvation. Then the scream had turned inward, ripping through him until he felt his body dissolving into static, adapting or dying, he couldn’t tell which.He sat up, sheets pooling around his waist, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Probably just his stupid human physiology trying to adjust to this unreal plane. The air here was too clean, too charged. Every breath felt like inhaling starlight. No wonder his dreams were fracturing.He’d cried himself to sleep again last night. Lashawn’s photo kept looping in his mind—lips on someone else’s, easy smile, new chapter. Lirian had no one to call and ask *Is he really done with me?* No true friend left who’d answer without p







