by Lyn Gala
Max had no idea if the trader was insulting Earth specifically or undeveloped civilizations in general, but either way, he had missed the point. “I’m showing you the weapon, not threatening you. This weapon is modified. I didn't like how inaccurate the previous weapon was and so I requested that someone help me with a few modifications. This weapon can be fired accurately, even over a long range without increasing the risk that it will rupture an interior wall,” Max explained. Since he was a warrior, it made sense for him to introduce himself as an inventor with an improved weapon. “It’s much more accurate.”
“What need is a more accurate weapon?” The trader went from arrogant to confused.
“Oh, I don't know. It could have something to do with criminals and pirates and people who board ships and steal things. I find it very convenient to have a weapon around when that happens.” Some days Max could not figure aliens out.
The trader climbed back onto the bench. “Computer security on external ship sensors prevents that. No personal weapon is necessary.”
Max took a second to give Rick a dirty look. “Well, sometimes sensors don't work,” he said. Rick had the grace to curl a few of his smaller tentacles. Max took that as an apology, and he turned his attention back to the trader. “And sometimes you find you have to defend yourself. Considering that the local police force chased the Nish through my home planet’s atmosphere, I know that you have criminals. And anywhere there are criminals, there is a need for better weaponry. And that's what this is.” Max patted the gun.
“Weapon is uniquely superior,” Rick added. He might not have been thrilled with the idea of running a con, but he was still doing his best to provide good backup. Funny, but he was a better boyfriend than any of the actual boys Max had ever dated.
“Peacekeepers invest in weapons. There is very low profit.”
Max doubted that. Civilizations were always searching for better weapons, and traders were always interested in cheating someone out of profit. Max would let him strip the profit off the weapon if it meant they could get the universe to accept Max as an inventor. “Maybe the weapon will not bring the same profit as the navigation system, but if you convince everyone that I made the weapon, then they might believe that I am capable of making other improvements on your technology as well.”
For a long time, the trader didn’t answer. Rick pressed closer and Max’s butt ached, but they continued to stare at each other. Eventually the trader said, “Very complicated. It would be easier to have Hidden, Ugly One return to Hidden Planet to find a dealer permitted to trade. Then have licensed trader contact me to trade so we all have profit.”
Max hated this guy, but at least he was honest about only caring about profit. If Rick could get a fair price on his own planet, there wouldn’t be any reason for complicated schemes. Max leaned forward. “You will not see a penny of profit unless you help Rick get a fair price. If you don't deal with us directly, we will make a deal that requires any trader to leave you out of any and all compensation.” Max took his weapon off the floor and shoved it back into the custom holster.
“That is illogical!” That hit a nerve with the trader.
“No, that is vindictive,” Max corrected him. “And by the way, the correlation between human and vindictive is very high.”
“The hidden one requires compensation. He has ship registered to himself. Ships require resources to run them.”
Rick twitched, but he didn’t comment.
Max stood slowly. “Yes, ships are expensive. I’m thinking of taking up the transport business. After all, using his program I can move goods and people from one place in the universe to another much more quickly than anyone else. I can make a very good living, and enjoy giving all your competitors discounts while making you pay more. Human...” Max held up one hand. “Vindictive....” Max held his second hand up at the same height. Of course, Max had seen one too many episodes of Firefly to want to make his living that way. If they let strange people on their spaceship, they wouldn’t know what kind of trouble they were dragging along. However, the trader couldn't know that.
He stood on top of his bench. “Hidden One could sponsor me on Hidden Planet. You sponsor application so that I can trade on Hidden World. I will offer far more compensation than other traders on Hidden World would offer you. That would be successful for profits.”
“I think that's a no, especially since we have no guarantee that you would actually work with us after we got you the license. And, of course, you're assuming that we could get you a license, even if we wanted to.” Max held out his hand to Rick. Without hesitation, Rick slipped his tentacles into Max’s hand and rose on his central leg.
“I could not get license. Too few. Peoples do not like Hidden People and wish to minimize routes of profit.”
“Embargo,” Max said. “They have a partial embargo on your world, but they must recognize how good the Hidden People are at their work or they wouldn’t let anyone trade there. That means the program is wildly valuable.”
Max took a step toward Rick’s computer, but the trader stepped between. “How does improved weapon function?”
“You want technical specifications?” Max could do that. “You use a pulsed plasma system. The narrow beam at the end of the weapon expands to create a shock wave that damages or kills everyone in the path of the weapon’s fire. I took an idea my people had with the ionizing electro-laser, only I modified it to ionize a narrow beam then send the electrical current down that path. If you had twenty people standing in a line, I could kill one without doing more than giving the people on either side a mild shock.”
Max wasn’t sure how much of that translated. James’s understanding of technology and Max’s knowledge of Earth weapon’s systems had allowed them to create the new weapon, and all Max needed to do was convince the trader that he could make himself look like an expert in weaponry. “I have the file on Rick’s computer. We can register the improvements right now. You can buy the right to sell either the weapons or the plans for the weapons. But you need to introduce me to your buyers as someone new, someone who brings innovation to the table.”
“What table?” the trader asked.
Max sighed. Aliens. They were annoyingly literal.
Rick said loudly, “Humans perceive tables where there are none and find fluids of the body gross and undesirable. Twenty thousand credits for the weapon.”
“Five thousand. No one will purchase it. This is simple move toward establishing that humans are not morons.”
“Humans are not morons!” Rick said in an offended, trumpeting voice.
Max rested his hand on Rick’s mantle. “If you introduce me to buyers of weapons, I can impress them with the need to purchase weapons.”
“Humans are not impressive.” And there was the arrogant voice Max knew and hated. And here he thought that only people with ranks of lieutenant colonel and up could be that obnoxious. Apparently he was wrong.
“You introduce me, and I will impress them and get them to buy the weapons. You don’t have to get involved at all.”
“I have no profit in introducing my buyers to potentially useless designer of useless weapons. Five thousand credits.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Max said. “When we sell these weapons to your buyers, you can keep twenty percent of the sale as your profit for making the introduction.”
“I need eighty percent. Buyers are more valuable than weapons design.” The trader moved closer, which left Max wanting to grab the asshole and shake him until all his tentacles flopped. Maybe he was putting off some sort of aggravation vibes because Rick slid between them.
“Without weapons, buyers are not buyers because they do not buy. You may have thirty percent.”
“Buyers always buy something. To risk displeasing buyers on untested weapon from a moron species is dangerous. I need seventy percent.” The two of them continued fast-paced negotiations until they settled on the trader taking sixty-four percent of any sales.
As soon as they had reached that agreement, Rick retrieved his computer, and Max followed him back down the ramp. The trader pursued from a distance, giving Max the feeling that he didn’t trust them not to steal merchandise on their way out.
They were outside in the humid air before Rick said anything. “Danger. Other peoples lack a desire for weapons. A diamond is forever; weapons are not.”
“People want to defend themselves.”
“Not with weapons bought from assumed moronic people.”
“I can change their minds. People see what they want to see.” If Max could offer them a good product, they would change their minds at light speed.
“I see you.” Rick curled tentacles around Max’s wrist.
“Awww. I love you too,” Max said. Rick was a closet romantic. And it turned out that Max was too because he found he would’ve done anything and risked anything to get Rick the respect and compensation he deserved. And as a side effect, he wanted their children to have more opportunities in a universe that was a little less unfair than the one they’d been born into.
Funny enough, it turned out the universe wasn’t all that different from Earth.
Chapter Six
Max was packing the equipment he wanted to take to the buyer meet-and-greet when Rick burst into their room all flailing tentacles and belches. “I dislike with vehemence,” the computer translated. The computer voice was weirdly calm even though Rick was loud and a bit screechy.
Max sighed. “I understand that.” The second he got the message that the trader wanted Max to come without Rick, he knew it was going to cause drama. Maybe Rick had never joined the military, but he understood what it meant to have someone’s six.
“Dislike with very much vehemence,” Rick added. His outer tentacles were all curled up.
“I know that. But the trader is right. If I have an adult Hidden One with me, people will figure out that I’m lying.”
“No. You are not lying about creation of new weapon, so I can go with without fear of perception of lying.”
Max sighed. Rick was, in his own way, being sweet and protective and supportive, but this time he was also wrong. The trader understood intergalactic politics and psychology. At least, Max assumed he did because it matched what Max knew of greedy, selfish, soul-sucking human beings. “They will assume you did the work even though James and I worked together.”
“They are non-assuming with Xander, so they can non-assume with me.”
Max went back to packing the samples he planned to take with him. If nothing else, maybe they could get resources to replace the ones he and James had spent on making the prototypes. “Xander is a child.” And boy wasn’t that making Max feel guilty, but he needed help. Since Xander spoke English even without the translator, they could even use English like a secret decoder ring if Max turned off his computer translation program.
“My attendance is equality to Xander’s attendance. The people of the Hidden People do not have cognitively immature youth.”
“But the rest of the universe do,” Max said. “They will dismiss Xander as unimportant.”
“He is much very important!” Rick nearly bellowed.
Max whirled around to find a very curled up, angry ball of octopus near the foot of their bed. “Of course he is,” Max assured Rick. Abandoning his packing, he sat near Rick and held his hand out. But Rick was having none of it. He kept all his appendages tightly curled. “He is exceptionally important, but the other peoples will think of Xander as a child. And even if they know the Hidden People are born cognitively developed, they will assume he has lived too short a time to do such complex work.”
“They be pursuing tasks of greater complexity than I when similarly full of youth,” Rick said. Some of the appendages twitched and seemed to straighten involuntarily. Yep. Rick was a proud papa, so proud he couldn’t stay mad even when he wanted to.
“They are wonderful offspring,” Max agreed. “We did good with them.”
“We did.” Rick’s tentacles uncurled a little more. “All three offspring are important. However, Xander is small. However, Xander’s smallness is significant in the lack of appropriate for assisting you in example of violence.”
“You think I need better backup,” Max summarized.
“Yes.” Rick trumpeted the word loudly enough that it made Max’s head ache.
Max stretched his hand out, and this time Rick wound his tentacle around it. “You lack eyes in logical rear position,” Rick added. Max was tempted to make a joke about parents and eyes in the back of their heads in logical rear positions, but it was unkind to tease Rick when he was upset.
Rick lifted himself up and leaned into Max. “I dislike possible future where you do not return.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Max assured him. “I will always return to you.”
“The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat are both always likely. Promise is only word.” Rick’s voice was softer now.
He had a point. Max had made the same promise to his mother, and he hadn’t gone home to her even when he’d had the chance to. “I will always try to return. I fought through the Hunters to return to you and I will not let stupid people stop me from coming home.”
Rick didn’t answer, but he slid his tentacle under Max’s shirt. The warm touch made Max smile. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Yes.” Rick curled a tentacle around Max’s leg and lifted it into the air, pushing Max onto his back.
Max laughed. “You are pushy.”
“Yes,” Rick agreed. Using his multiple appendages, he tugged at Max’s pants and lifted him farther up the bed and teased a nipple all at once. Max captured the nearest tentacle and pulled it toward his mouth. He used his lips and tongue to explore all the small fingers on the underside of the tentacle. When he sucked it, Rick shivered with his whole body. As soon as he got control of his tentacles again, he flipped Max over onto his stomach and tugged his pants off in one motion.
“Bully,” Max complained softly.
“You like me to positive connotation bully,” Rick pointed out. Again with the logic, because Max really did. Rick ran a warm tentacle across Max’s hole and all the tiny fingers teased the sensitive skin so that Max thrust down into the soft bedding. Rick took advantage of the moment and slipped the tip of a tentacle inside.
“No fair,” Max said, “I want a tentacle up here.” Max made grabby hands.
It drove Rick wild when Max sucked on the underside of a tentacle, and it was one of Max’s favorite pastimes. However, this time Rick was not obliging. Rick gently pushed deeper in before he started the short thrusts he had learned to use to sexually torment Max. In and out, teasing with touch that wasn’t quite enough. Max squirmed with need, but still Rick didn’t change the too-gentle motion.
“You’re killing me.”
“Often you complain using hyperbole so I discount further death complaints.”
“Hey, now.”
Rick thrust his tentacle in so hard and so fast that Max yelped as the tentacles forced his body to adjust. He arched his back and gripped the edge of the mattress as lust caused a temporary white-out of all active brain cells. A few of the less important ones near the edge might have even leaked out of an ear. While Max was still trying to catch his breath, Rick slipped a second tentacle inside him. Max felt the tiny undulating fingers pulling at his rim.
“Careful,” Max warned.
Rick crawled over Max’s right leg before he settled on the small of Max’s back. For a medium-sized octopus, he was a heavy bugger. “Always with you much care,” Rick promised. The tentacles paused for a few seconds, and then the smaller one eased in and pulled out. Max’s rim ached at the stretch, and he tried to spread his legs, but he was tangled with even more tentacles.
He moaned as he lost control of his body. He thrust down into the bed, and Rick bounced on his back as Max bucked. Then Rick did something with the first tentacle. He balled up the end or spread his tentacle fingers or something bec
ause Max was full and aching and gloriously well-fucked all at once.
“Fuck, yes.”
“Yes, I am fucking,” Rick agreed, and then he pistoned his tentacle in earnest. The smaller tentacle slammed into him while the larger one pressed deeper and deeper, filling Max until he squirmed helplessly, impaled on Rick’s talented tentacles. “I am good fucking,” Rick announced in the world’s most dramatic bit of understatement ever. Max was losing his fucking mind, and he needed to come. Now. Before his last functional brain cell fell out of his head.
Rick pressed his tentacles deeper. The sensation was too much and too thick and not thick enough and just right and overwhelming and perfect and impossible all at once. Max wanted more, but the sharp edge of need threatened to cut through the lust-bliss he had going.
He reached for his cock, but two more tentacles tangled with his arm, pinning it down. Then Rick shifted up and a long tongue ran along Max’s shoulder. With a scream, Max came all over their bed. His body twitched through the longest and most intense orgasm of his life. He was left limp and spent and still stuffed full of tentacle.
Max lay panting. It took several minutes before he could catch his breath, and in that time, Rick had shifted to one side, and he was playing with curling tentacles around and around Max’s right arm and leg. “You didn’t get me pregnant again, did you?” Max asked.
“No. Do you wish for implantation of offspring?” Rick asked.
Max pressed his forehead to the pillow. “Nope. No, three is enough for now. We still have to get them sorted and in good careers.” Max didn’t say it, but he also wanted to wait until he had the universe sorted. No children of his were going to get treated like trash. Nope. If Max had to shoot every prejudiced bastard in the universe one at a time, he would. He’d prefer to con them. And when the boys were ready to work, Max could front their inventions or they could find someone else to help. When the time came, they’d figure something out.
“If you wish the implantation of additional offspring, I am willing to implanting of additional offspring.” Rick used a half dozen tentacles to trace circles on Max’s body. Shivers of lust travelled like sparks under his skin, but Max’s cock was worn out. Done. Finished. Spent. His cock might never work again, or at least not for a good hour.