Second Born

She returned to my right side and I began the sixteen-step circle around her that was the next phrase. "Where did you learn Medusan dances?"

"From my ship's library. It's a long way from Novalbion to Medusa, three weeks or more. One must occupy oneself, and going flabby from lack of exercise is a chronic problem aboard ship. I enjoy dancing as exercise, but I must say you're more fun as a dance partner than Diana."

"Who is she?" Kinthia asked, bringing our hands down to the starting position as we moved forward in the next measure.

"She's my ship's computer. One of its features is holographic projection. The computer can project the image of a partner for me, but there is no physical contact of course. Still, it makes dancing more enjoyable." The music ended and we exchanged courtesies as custom required.

"Do you know this one, Edward?" she asked eagerly as the music struck up again.

"Yes, I do." We joined hands and pranced down the terrace, skipping and bobbing, Kinthia's happy smile a delight to see.

We dueted for two more dances in the darkness before the orchestra began a long introduction to allow lines and sets to form for a Medusan dance of which I was particularly fond. I took Kinthia by the hand and led her to the door into the ballroom. She pulled back on my hand and I stopped.

"Edward, I can't! I just can't. They will disdain me if we try and join a set. I've had so much fun here; let's not spoil it."

"Kinthia, you are a dancer of rare grace. You dance better than most of the women on the floor; I've watched them. You flow with the music, as a dancer should. Come, let us join a set and dance this dance to show them all what good dancing is. And if one of those scions opens his mouth to mock, I will be happy to close it with my fist! No one mocks my partner with impunity. Come on!" I pulled her suddenly willing hand and we fell in at the foot of one of the lines, filling out a set. The coroneted Medusan male I had cut off started to say something, but my captain's glare shut his mouth as he realized discretion is the better part of valor.

The first repetition of the steps was a little stiff. Although she masked it well, Kinthia was nervous. The other couple in the set was unhappy at their proximity to this Medusan ugly duckling and her alien escort. But as the dance progressed, she and they relaxed as they realized that for all our height -- the two of us were easily a head taller than the other dancers -- we not only knew the steps but knew the spirit of the dance as well. It was one of the most pleasant times at a ball I could remember, and also one of the few times when I had such confidence in my partner I could relax and enjoy myself fully.

The dance ended. The final phrase called for the male and the female to extend their right hands to each other and for a left tendril to brush the palm. Not having prehensile hair, I reached across with my right and stroked her palm with my fingertips. Her fingers curled and pressed mine firmly, not letting go as the line broke up. She tugged and I followed her behind a pillar that held up the balcony around the ballroom. She pressed against a panel in the wall; counterweighted, it swung noiselessly aside. A candle lantern dimly lit the bottom of a stairwell that spiraled up two stories.

"A servants' staircase," she said in answer to my unvoiced question. "The Palace is full of passageways so the servants can go about their work without disturbing the Royal Family and our guests. Derica and I explored them as girls." She smiled at a happy memory, her face bright. "We liked to sneak into Father's study and listen to him discuss politics with the Crown Ministers. The servants never caught us at it because while they knew only the parts of the passages they needed to know to do their work, we knew every bit of them. We had some close calls, and I'm sure they suspected we'd been in them, but they never caught us." She took both my hands. We looked into each other's eyes.

"Thank you for tonight, Edward. I wish I had your bravery and lack of fear. I saw you take on that Alphan. I don't like them. I think they mean Medusa harm." She pulled me close, her hands against my back, her hair rustling as it tried and failed to do its mistress's bidding. I held her tightly, inhaling the scent of her, simultaneously feeling peaceful and aroused, a very odd combination. I could feel her fingers moving on my back and her hips pressing into me. We broke apart by mutual consent. Taking my hand, Kinthia led me up to the next landing. She put a hand on the door, but paused.

"Colonel Vamana told me you would be performing a gun show for Father tomorrow, which means you will be staying here tonight. May I see you again, Edward?"

"Certainly tomorrow at the demonstration; and as far as I am concerned, my princess, any time you wish. As I said, I would be proud to be seen with you, any time, any where." To my surprise, she leaned forward and kissed my cheek before pulling the door open.

"Your manservant will be in the waiting room. Ask anyone in livery, and they will take you. He will guide you to your quarters." She kissed my cheek again. "Good night, Edward." I squeezed her hand, slipped out the door and walked down the corridor.

Chapter 3

The Royal Palace, Aytont

Doing as Kinthia had suggested, I stopped a servant and asked for my dogsbody. His name was Regneld. Guiding me up to the west wing of the Palace's second floor, he led me through two tall doors.

"What is back that way?" I asked, motioning over my shoulder at the twins of the doors we were passing through.

"The Royal Apartments, Your Excellency," said Regneld as he led me down the long corridor. "Here we are, sir: the Wrodion Suite." He waved with a tendril for me to precede him.

The walls were paneled in a pale wood with red and pink tones. The floor was tiled in what appeared to be rose and clear quartz tiles in a geometric pattern. The furniture was made of a dark reddish-brown hardwood that put me in mind of the rosewoods found on two dwarf planets in Novalbion's system. Regneld guided me around the room, wordlessly showing me the armoire, bureau, bath and small dining area should I choose to eat in my suite. He ended by pointing to a bell pull beside the bed.

"Should you require anything, milord, simply pull this. It rings a bell in my quarters off the anteroom. Calling for me will not do; the walls are thick and the rooms are soundproof. Would you care for anything right now, sir?"

"Yes; information. What have you heard in the servants' hall concerning the demonstration I have proposed for the morrow?"

"Colonel Vamana asked the chief cook where he could obtain a dozen cattlebeasts in a hurry for a firearms test. Cook referred him to a smallholder who supplies the Palace and told him what he might expect to pay. The smallholder is to drive them to the firing range that serves the Life Guards. The Colonel will meet him there and give him instructions, sir."

"Thank you, Regneld. If I could trouble you for a bottle of zulac, that will be all."

"There is an assortment of potables in the cabinet across the room with the appropriate glasses for them, sir. May I pour you something, milord?"

"No need, now that I know where the liquor is kept. Please wake me an hour before breakfast. Hot tea would be well received if that can be arranged. Good night, Regneld."

"Good night, milord." Regneld left, closing the door behind him. I changed for bed, poured myself a short one, sipped it and set it on the nightstand. Turning off the gaslights, I settled into a bed that seemed twice the size of a billiards table, and started to doze.

"Edward?"

I blinked my eyes open, not sure that I'd heard that whisper. I saw a golden goddess wearing a wrapper in the dim light cast by the single candle across the room. She glided to the door, threw the bolt and came toward me, her feet silent on the stone.

"Kinthia?"

"Yes. You are not dreaming; I really am in your room." She shed her wrapper beside the bed and sank onto it in an opaque silky nightdress, one hand caressing my face. I shifted to the center, throwing back the sheet in wordless invitation. She responded by slipping in next to me and pulling the sheet over us before settling into my arms.

"The servants' passages?" I asked, my fingers lightly stroking her hair and tracing the curve of an ear.

"Of course. I enjoyed myself so much tonight I found myself wishing that it not be over yet. So here I am. Not so much for bedsport as for companionship. I would like to get to know you better than we could manage under the rigid rules of protocol. Do you object?"

"Do you mind if we caress each other as we exchange information, my princess?"

She moved up slightly in the bed and chastely kissed my lips, one hand busy with the buttons on my pajama top. "Mmmm. I'd like that. I like the feel of your hands on my skin. The bravos who have visited with me in the past have been motivated by gain, not the affection you seem to feel toward me." The last button gave way and she slipped her hand inside it to rest on my back, her slender digits moving with feather touches slowly up and down my spine.

"I'll begin. You know Derica is my father's heir. There was a time when royal daughters were used to cement alliances, but my family, House Tringar, has ruled all of Medusa for more than a hundred years. That makes me something of a liability; or rather, it will when Derica chooses a mate and has children. It's difficult being the second born."

"How well I know it, sweeting. On Novalbion, everything in the family comes down to the oldest son; titles, lands, income, everything. Someone in my shoes is in a precarious position, dependent on my father or brother for everything unless I stir about and make my own way. I do have income from investments, a small sinecure, a pension and my work of course, but while my family is rich I myself am not." I had been working on the ties at her throat and waist, and they now hung loose.

"But I saw your decorations," she said, snuggling closer as my hand gently stroked that marvelous golden skin. "Mmmm. That feels nice, Edward. Don't stop. I looked you up in your Naval Registry. You rose from newly graduated cornet to captain in less than 12 years. You commanded four warships. You have more decorations for service, merit and valor than most officers achieve in 30 years. Doesn't that count for anything with either your king or your father?"

"It might count for something in some families, if the eldest male was a brainless twit unfit to hold the title. Unfortunately, my brother Robin is Major General the Viscount Westwood, who holds the Star of Valor with Swords, meaning he has received it twice; the Cross of Valor with two bars, for three awards; the Medal of Valor with two bars; the Star of Merit; the Cross of Merit and bar; the Medal of Merit with three bars; the Service Cross and bar; the Service Medal and four bars; the Combat Action Medal; and more foreign decorations than you can count. Plus which, the King knighted him for an action in which his regiment stopped a Junker division cold. And Robin is still serving in the Army, while I was retired as a Navy captain. Compared to his record, I come off second-best." She turned her head and kissed me gently.

"We're two of a kind, you and I. You're an accomplished hooman who lives in your older brother's shadow; and I'm the unwanted, ugly younger sister of the female for whom every male on the planet would kill to have as his mate." Her hands explored my pectorals, a sensuous feeling lingering wherever she touched.

"I don't think you're ugly, Kinthia. On my homeworld, you would be a ranking beauty." My hands stroked her, following the contours of her body as I spoke.

"You have golden skin the noble ladies of the Court would envy. Your feet are narrow and pretty, with ankles that are exquisite in their symmetry. Your legs are long and sweetly shaped, toned with exercise; the hons would despair at the sight of you. Those small, tight buttocks that don't compare to your sister's in your eyes as perfectly flatter your body as Derica's balance hers. That narrow waist you hate so is something Novalbion females have removed ribs to achieve. You think your boobs are tiny bug-bites compared to the gigantic melons that grace your sister's chest. I tell you those high, firm breasts of yours with their long nipples fit you perfectly and would make every noble daughter I've ever met feel like sexless little girls. Your classic face and beautiful eyes would have painters and sculptors fighting for the right to immortalize you on canvas and in stone.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever held in my arms; but your body pales in comparison to the beauty that shines from within. You are sweet and gentle and good, so much so it takes my breath away. When I am near you, as we were while we danced, as we are now, I feel at peace and safe. I don't want to lose what I feel right now."

"Nor do I," she whispered, her hair rustling as her hands covered mine where I cupped her face and brought them to her breasts. "You are an alien and yet your touch stirs me as no Medusan I have taken to bed ever has. I am frightened of you, because of how you make me feel. You make me feel beautiful when I know I am not. You make me feel cherished when everyone I meet barely tolerates me. When you call me your princess you mean a fairy princess, one sent by the gods to inspire males to act beyond what they can be, the brave warrior who rescues the maiden, a hero. I want to be your princess, to be to you what you are to me. I want to please you, pleasure you and make you happy. Please let me."

Our lips met. Hers opened under mine, sighing as our tongues touched. My hands squeezed and stroked her mammaries, those exquisite tits that so excited me. I ran a finger around her nips; she moaned into my mouth and arched her back, pressing them into my hands, presenting them for me to use to pleasure her. I tentatively squeezed one between finger and thumb. She broke the kiss and gasped.

"Yes! That's good! I like that! Play with them! Ohhh, so good!"

I held her boobs with both hands, stroking them, squeezing them like the cantaloupes they resembled, pinching nipples no longer pliant but now hardening with excitement as my flesh and blood princess responded to me. I licked one and heard her inhale sharply, then sigh happily as I played with the berries that topped her casabas, licking one and tickling the other with a strand of her silky hair.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! Oh, yes! Don't stop! Feels so good! So good! Don't stop! Please, more! More! Yeeessss!"

I latched onto her nipple and sucked, pulling it between my teeth and nibbling it very gently. She shook and moaned loudly; had she been a human girl, I'd have said she had just orgasmed, but my briefing crystals hadn't discussed Medusan sexual behavior and responses. Kinthia wasn't trying to escape me, so I must be doing something right.

Using a hank of her hair, I painted a trail of sensation down her body, over her tight belly and down to her naturally hairless pubis. She rolled onto her back, offering herself to me, her legs parting. I used her hair to stroke the slit between her legs. She sucked in air between her teeth and groaned deep in her throat. The outer lips of her pussy swelled and opened like the flower petals they resembled to reveal much smaller inner lips turgid with blood. There was no clitoral shaft as there is in human women. According to the anatomical encyclopedia I had read, those inner lips were the Medusan female's clitoris. I could feel a curious vibration in the hair I held, and brushed her inner lips with it.

"AAAAHHH!"

Her hips thrust up off the bed and her hands clutched the bedclothes as she shuddered. She shook hard enough to rattle the bed each time I touched the vibrating hairs to her clit-lips.

"YES! YES! YES! YES! OH YES! Oh, Edward!"

She shrieked as I slipped two fingers into her tight hole and grabbed at them with her pussy muscles, wetness seeping out of her as she twisted her head back and forth and bucked her hips up and down on the bed. She abruptly arched up with a scream and fell back onto the bed, her deep, sensuous moans filling my ears. If she had been human, I'd have said she had just enjoyed a mind-blowing climax. I withdrew from her and took her into my arms. She continued to moan softly, like a cat purring, and cuddled into my chest. Her breathing deepened and she slept. I smiled, pleased that I had pleasured her well, and joined her in sleep.

After awhile, I awakened to find Kinthia leaning on one elbow, slowly running her nails over my pecs and abdomen. Her glorious eyes were soft, though whether with satiation, tenderness or satisfaction I could not say.

"That was the most marvelous experience. Tell me, what do hooman females say when they wish to address a male with affection?"

"Lots of things. Darling, honey, sugar, dear, stud, sometimes baby, though 'baby' is more often used from the man to the woman ... I can't think of any others just now."

"And what to the males say to the females to express affection?"

I smiled. "That's easier. All of the words I just told you excepting 'stud;' plus things like pet, sweeting, my sweet, sweetness, sugar pie, lots of words referring to something sweet. Sometimes we'll call them princess or duchess, especially if they are commoners, meaning they are something special because there are not many of either in the Empire. And there are pet names, but those are generally between two lovers."

"We do much the same, but only between males and females we have taken to bed. A female might call a male 'damislik,' or 'miliqalb,' or perhaps 'sultingas.' A male might call a female 'varkinus,' or 'kretele,' or 'ninforn.' But I like the hooman approach with reference to sweet things much better ... my darling Edward." She slid down in the bed, kissing me. "Let me show you what Medusan females like to do to their males before bedding, my sweet damislik."

She showered my face with little butterfly kisses, gradually lengthening them until she found my mouth. Locking her lips to mine, I felt hers open and her tongue dart out to touch my lips. I opened my lips and riposted, starting a long phrase of parry and attack in an oral duel. I felt Kinthia laugh happily against my mouth.

She nibbled her way down my body, each nip leaving a burst of light in my brain. Her hands slowly, slowly rubbed their way down my torso, palms and fingers drawing desire to the surface and urging me to reciprocate. She found my painfully stiff penis and caressed it with her fingertips, causing it to harden even more.

"Hooman males aren't so different from us," she whispered. "You're not as thick as a Medusan, but you are longer, my darling. I wonder how much longer you can get?" She began to masturbate me, working my shaft gently but firmly. She allowed a thread of spittle to fall from her lips to the head of my prick, slickening the head and reducing the friction of her hands. I felt myself hardening as she stroked my cock to make it longer and prouder. She bent her head to my groin and licked the head of my dick, tasting my pre-cum.

"That's a good taste," she whispered. "Sweet and salty at once. Now I understand why hoomans use sweet references to their paramours. I want some."

Her mouth went over my cock, sucking me. She began to bob her head. With each motion, she took a little more of my rod into her mouth. Her hand fell away from the shaft and began to play with my balls, swinging loose in the warm air. Her fingers were gentle and yet demanding at the same time. The feeling was delightfully erotic and I loved it.

Before long she had all of me in her mouth and down her throat. This wasn't the first time I'd had a woman blow me; but it was the first time I'd had a woman deep-throat me without gagging. Kinthia may have thought herself undesirable, but she was a very skilled fellatrix. As my hips began to jerk up and down in time with her sucking, part of me wondered if it was natural talent or lots of practice, not that it mattered. She was very, very good and I was very, very close.