I am not your load to bear - Chapter 4 (Early Access) (Patreon)

Tristan

Tristan had been on the receiving end of a complete pair of cold shoulders. First Bexley, the cute cargo scanner, wouldn't entertain any conversation with him. In an act of what he wouldn't admit was desperation, he switched targets to Bexley's blue counterpart. He hadn't given any of the Ailu't a second glance so far, but if he was going to try a new dish, there were uglier plates he could lick it from. Alien twink was just as immune to his advances, though, permanently playing dumb.

And he could feel Officer Sovereign paying him more attention than usual. Whether he was just giving off the wrong signals, he didn't know. He thought it was fairly well known that he didn't engage with women. Not in that way. She didn't look at him like she wanted to fuck him, more like she wanted to strangle him. And Tristan wasn't into that, even with men.

So he was nil for two on the office boys and had attracted the unwanted interest of a woman. One who looked like she knew a hundred ways to kill him with her bare hands but would probably settle for kicking him off the cargo ramp if he crossed her.

No one made him work this hard. He shouldn't have to. They were flying through space in a big metal tube filled with sweaty men and no TVs. What else did they have to spend their time on? And he was hot! He lifted heavy shit for a living!

Another human planet drop had come around and Tristan had been approved for port leave. It was time to clear his head with fresh air and some fresh ass.

Unloading had commenced before the puny planet had even come into sight. Withdrawing the cargo that matched the required codes from the hull and bringing it to the cargo bay for quicker handover. One bumpy landing later, and Tristan was huffing crates down the long steel ramp.

A head of fluffy brown hair appeared at his shoulder.

"I got approved for leave this afternoon."

Tristan managed not to wince. He hated being forced to explain his personal philosophies of physical relationships to a lay that just won't take the hint. It was rare that Tristan fucked the same person twice while on a contract. Relationships, the kind that last more than a couple of nights, were for Earth.

Fluffy had already used up his allowance of Tristan's time. He thought he had made that clear already.

"Ah, I didn't," Tristan lied, a little winded under the weight of the crate in his arms.

"Oh. Maybe next time?"

"I don't do repeat performances."

"Wow.” Fluffy laughed without humour. “My friends were right about you."

Tristan grunted, shifting the crate’s weight in his arms. "Probably."

"It's not like I have feelings for you. Don't get the wrong idea. It was just sex."

"And that's how I like it."

"Then if we're both on the same page-"

"No."

Fluffy huffed and stomped ahead.

At the bottom of the descent, Bexley and alien twink were waiting with their scanners and tablets. Tristan joined the blue queue.

Flirtation was having no effect except to create awkward tension between himself and the pigtailed Ailu't; it was time to soften his approach. And even if he couldn't get alien twink to play with him, giving his attention to another man in front of Bexley was always a bonus.

He was summoned forward by the soft flutter of a small blue hand.

“How's your day going?” Tristan asked as soon as he was stood at the raised barrier.

Alien twink looked up, slow and creaky. His reply was stiff like he was reciting it from his beginner’s English textbook. “Well, thank you. And you?”

“As good as it can,” Tristan answered cheerfully.

“Good.” He had a cute rasp to his voice. Tristan wondered if it cracked sweetly when he moaned. “Could you tilt the box a little? The scanner is having trouble with the uneven label.”

"'course." Tristan obliged. Showing off just a little in the flex of his biceps as he turned the box. "By the way, I wanted to apologise if we got off on the wrong foot before."

The scanner paused in the air and alien twink looked down at his boots, then round the crate at Tristan’s.

"It's just an expression." He chuckled a little awkwardly. "I mean we had a bad introduction. I want to start fresh."

"Oh, okay."

"I'm Tristan; nice to meet you." He hefted the box onto one arm, tilting his whole body with it, to free his other hand to offer it for a shake.

"Nice to meet you." Still stiff and uncertain despite Tristan's warmest, and what his mother called his 'winning', smile. "My name is Dillan."

He took the extended hand and allowed Tristan to shake the pair together. The ripple of it ran through Dillan's whole body.

"Dillan? That's a human name, ain’t it?"

"Stop flirting, blondie!" yelled the loader behind him in the queue.

Tristan laughed him off but lugged his crate central again and continued to the drop-off point. Dillan watched him go without a word.

He spared a glance over his shoulder at Bexley, catching his eye long enough to receive a disapproving head shake. Tristan grinned and turned his attention forward again.

Once the drop was complete, Tristan hung around the port for a bit. He had been looking forward to finding a seedy establishment to release his frustration. There were plenty to be found in port towns. But now that he was free to roam, he wanted to return to The Cornucopia.

He tried to shrug the feeling off. If he went back on-board now, he'd regret it later. He had the rest of the trip to toy with Dillan and Bexley, but the next two planets on their itinerary were Ailu't which meant he had a minuscule chance of getting port leave for them. If it was even worth taking. The air might smell weird, or the local food might give him the runs. If they had brothels, they'd be filled with smurfs.

Dillan's shade of blue was pretty, though. As strange looking as he was, Tristan could admit that the baby blue of his skin suited the rest of his innocent appearance. His stupid pigtails were cute, too... would make great handles.

Tristan groaned under his breath, turned on his heel and headed back to the boarding ramp.

"You want... dinner?"

The office boys looked up in unison from their glowing, boring screens.

Bexley tilted his chair back with a snort and an eye-roll. "Which one of us are you asking?"

A split-second decision, but it didn't feel as though it was really Tristan that decided. The name just fell out his mouth reflexively. "Dillan."

"Dillan didn't get port leave approved." Bexley's eyes twinkled as though they were sharing an inside joke.

Dillan huffed and stabbed at his keyboard with his index fingers. He typed like Tristan's grandma.

"I meant on-board," Tristan corrected. "But if you want to get food out there, I'm sure we can find a way."

"Oh, what a gentleman you are to offer him food he eats every day," Bexley cooed sarcastically.

Dillan had quit his keyboard jabbing. "I've requested leave for every single human planet that has come up on the itinerary and been rejected for every one so far," he said, turning slowly from his screen to Tristan.

For requests of leave on a planet that isn't owned by your own species, you had to have a clean record of performance on-board, being a representative for your kind and all that. But even then, they only let a very small percentage of 'aliens' onto each planet.

"I think your lot are more curious about our planets than we are of yours because I've been offered unfilled slots for the next two planets," Bexley announced unhelpfully. He had also given up doing any work, lounging in his office chair as though he were on a sunny beach.

Dillan huffed again.

"If I can get your port leave approved for a human stop, will you have dinner with me?"

"The next two planets are Ailu't. We won't reach another human stop for weeks," Dillan grumbled.

"What if I got you last-minute leave for this planet?"

"Impossible," Bexley laughed.

Dillan's face had lit up. His pigtails seemed to perk up like watered flowers losing their wilt. "Yes!"

"Dillan!" Bexley scolded; although, he was still grinning incredulously. "He'll never pull this off." Tristan didn't appreciate just how much he stressed the word 'never'. "But if he does, he'll be expecting you to sleep with him!"

Dillan's cheeks and ears darkened from baby blue to fuchsia. "It's just dinner," he argued softly. Something in Tristan's gut told him that little boy blue would have slept with him in exchange for the port leave. He should have started with that instead of dinner... although he had no doubt Bexley would have switched profession to 'interspecies negotiator' and bargained him down to a peck on the cheek if he'd gone in too hot.

"And the rest once he's got you tipsy on plonk!" Bexley added.

Dillan pouted and his brow furrowed. "I don't know what that means but I want to see a real human city!"

"And you will!" Tristan said, already regretting the offer. "Let me go make some arrangements."

As he power-walked away, he could still hear Bexley lamenting Dillan on the beauty of Earth cities, and how these hell holes couldn't compare. Tristan agreed, but he wasn't going to dissuade him.

The third guy Tristan asked actually knew where the port leave was approved: the communications team. They were in near constant contact with the ports, gaining permission and directions for landing, take-off and visitation.

There was only one person in the office once Tristan found it, and her expression immediately soured on sight of him.

"What do you want?" she barked from her desk.

Tristan stepped back with a blink. "Do we know each other?"

"You fucked my friend and then dropped him like he'd passed his expiration date,” she sneered. Her shoulders were hunched up, but it didn’t add much to her short stature. All the office-working crew members were small in comparison to the cargo loaders and security team, but there was something bony and scary about this little lady.

"Ah. Fluffy brown hair?" he guessed with his most charming grin.

Her dark green eyes narrowed. Mouth pressed into a tight, seething line. "You don't know his name?"

"At least you know I don't kiss and tell," Tristan joked. She didn't laugh. "Look, I know this might seem like asking for the moon..." Her eyes flashed and he almost walked himself out. "But I'm trying to get last minute port leave for a friend - he's Ailu't and he keeps getting rejected but he really wants to see a real human city."

One eye twitched. "You want a favour from me?"

"It’s not a favour for me,” he reminded her hurriedly.

A long pause held them. She stared him down with a burning fury. Finally, through gritted teeth she spat, "I will approve this on one condition: you never bother Logan again. He deserves better than being strung along by a whore like you."

"Done." Tristan had no interest in having fluffy following him around either. Somehow, he’d found himself in an undeniable win-win deal.

"Not even a look."

"Understood."

"If he mentions he has seen you in the same room as him I will kill you."

"Crystal clear."

The wheelie chair sighed with her when she dropped into it. "What is your friend's name?" A few clicks here, a tap on her keyboard there, and she looked up at him expectantly.

"Dillan."

Seven more keyboard taps. "That name isn't on the database.” She shook her head with unrestrained disgust. “What is wrong with you?"

"I swear that's the name he gave me!”

She raised a thin brow, somehow looking down on him despite being a foot below eye-level. "That's a human name, too,” she added with heavy condescension.

"That's what I said!” Tristan laughed awkwardly. “I thought Ailu't names were like 'Flatulence’ or 'Pipe-Cleaner.’"

The crack of a restrained smile upturned the corner of her mouth. "Fuck it.” The top draw of her desk jangled open. “Take this guest pass and get the hell out.” A piece of plastic that resembled an Alliance ID card was tossed at him. He caught it in both hands. “If I or Logan ever see your stupid fat head again there will be consequences,” she promised, giving him a final furious stare-down.

"Yes, ma'am!" Tristan saluted and ran from the office like his ass was on fire.