Tamed By The Alien Barbarian by Celeste King
Xxuric
My Galmorian coffee table, which I had bought on one of my first intergalactic assignments, smashed under me as I fell on it.
Oh well. It was not the first antique in my home that had been the victim of one of my and Jaxil’s tussles. Not even the first of that evening.
I could feel a few splinters in my wings, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Jaxil was already diving for me. I let him get close to me, then immediately used his weight to send him tumbling head-over-heels past me.
He flopped onto his belly. In an instant, I was on his back, one of my knees between his wings, pinning him down. I grabbed both the horns atop his head and yanked back, stretching his neck.
“I yield, Xxuric, I yield!” Jaxil called out.
“Bet your ass!” I declared triumphantly. I helped my best friend to his feet. Then I grabbed two more cans of Tillian Ale and handed him one. Parched from our bout, I crushed back half the can in one gulp. I shook my wings out, trying to get the splinters of the table out of them.
“One of these days, I’m going to whup you,” Jaxil said as he sipped his ale.
“So you’ve been saying since we were whelps,” I taunted.
Ever since Jaxil and I were children back on Sanax, so many of our hangouts had inevitably managed to lead to one of these shows of strength. That was common for Sanax boys. Even young men. Perhaps it was a little immature for solidly grown ones such as ourselves.
I surveyed the damage of our latest tussle with boozy eyes.
Despite the renovations I’d made to my home, they were still only converted human quarters. Though the Sanax had been on Earth for six years, new housing was still hard to come by. So, while I’d enlarged all the rooms, my den here on Earth was nowhere near as big as it would have been back home. In those tight quarters, it was a given that there would be an increased amount of damage to furniture and décor whenever Jaxil and I got into one of our inebriated tumbles.
As the largest weapons dealer for the Earth sector, I was the king. The Earth news shows called me the Grumpy Alien King.
It was a name that I loved.
“Speaking of whelps,” Jaxil said, standing upright as the ale help him forget his bruises, “where is your boy?”
“Oh, probably reading one of his books.”
“I suppose sometimes the gremma fruit does fall far from the tree.” Jaxil settled back into one of the two loveseats still unbroken. “Call him in here.”
“Let’s leave him be, Jaxil,” I said.
“Doesn’t it burn your butt the way he snivels about?”
“He’ll come into his own when he’s ready.”
“Nonsense. It’s that sort of lax parenting that’s going to have our children assimilated into whiny brats like the humans.” Jaxil threw his head back and shouted for my son. “Dahrial!” He glanced at me. “Come on, now, say it with me. Dahrial!”
There was no stopping Jaxil when he got fixated like this. So, I called for my boy, too. Besides, I rationalized, it would be nice if once in a while my son and I could share some laughs together.
After several rounds of shouting, Dahrial finally arrived. I cringed in spite of myself to see him. He really was so different. At six-foot-five, he was nearly a foot shorter than me. And he was incredibly slim. His bony body made it look like his wings were too big for him. His tiny head seemed weighed down by his horns. Years and years of being stuck in his books had given him a sort of permanent squinting expression. He looked miserable to have been summoned by his drunk father and his best friend. I sighed inwardly.
“Dahrial,” Jaxil said, rising to meet the boy at the door to the den. “Have a drink.”
“No thank you, Uncle Jax.”
“That was not an offer, boy.”
Dahrial glanced toward me. I ignored the pleading look on his face.
“Drink, son! When I was your age, I would have been thrilled to share an ale with my father.”
Reluctantly, knowing it would be best to just play along, Dahrial took an ale from me. As he started to sip, Jaxil tipped the bottom of the can upward, forcing Dahrial to chug a deep gulp of it. The boy started coughing as some of it went down the wrong pipe. I patted his back.
“Excellent! Excellent!” Jaxil declared, sizing up the boy. “Dahrial, can I ask you a very serious question?”
“Will it actually be serious?”
“Incredibly,” Jaxil said somberly. “The question is this: How many times have you dipped your quill in ink? Let me rephrase, as I see you’re confused. How often does your toe test the most delicate of waters? Still confused? I’ll try again. When did you last taste a bit of honeyed nectar?”
“I’m allergic to Earth honey, Uncle.”
“By Polit’s balls, kid,” Jaxil cried in exasperation. “I’m trying to ask you when you last got laid! You have been laid, haven’t you?” Jaxil stared at my son. Who just looked at his feet. “Oh shit. Still a virgin? Xxuric,” Jaxil spun toward me, “we must get your son’s willy whetted!”
He sifted through the remains of the coffee table and found the holo-caller.
“Do you still have Tennemede the Pimp on speed-dial?” Jaxil asked me over his shoulder.
“I – I don’t want any whores,” Dahrial stammered, looking desperately at me.
“You’re getting laid tonight, boy. And I don’t have the inclination to go out and convince a nice girl to do it out of pity. Besides your father and I could use a good ride, as well.”
Dahrial turned several shades of red. He seemed to want to declare something. For a moment a strange thought struck me. Is it possible my son is not a virgin any longer? Then I watched the way the boy turn on his heels and slide out of the room and I was certain of his innocence again.
Also enraged by it. Jaxil was right. I’ve indulged the boy for far too long.
“Give me that,” I growled as I yanked the holo-caller from Jaxil’s hands.
“Who are you calling?” Jaxil asked.
“It’s time to make my son a man.”
“I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“Not with a whore. I’m calling Teshie’s.”
“The galactic mail-order-bride company?” Jaxil asked with a mix of intrigue and horror.
“No,” I said as the call connected. “The best galactic mail-order-bride company.”
