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The Space Between The Stars (A Corsair/Mim Adventure)

Philip tried to ignore the implications of Yusra’s suggestion that her people might prefer it if she wed someone of Pleiadan descent. They probably would, after all. It was a relief in many ways when she moved on to her grand title and the realities of what it meant. “Have youbeen given any such empty promises of importance? Or are you relegated to just being the crown prince's brother?"

“I hold the title of Keeper of the Seals,” Philip declared grandly, then laughed. “A mostly ceremonial title, of course. Although it is anticipated that I will be named Grand Chancellir when my brother ascends the throne, making me the head of the Ministry of Justice. So my duties involve studying the law and keeping John out of trouble as much as possible.”

He glanced at the arena, and swore softly as John baited the lion. “I am not, sadly, particularly successful at that last duty.”

-*-

"I do not accept you next to my princess regardless," Nikkol murmured as they stepped out into the arena.

“And yet,” John replied with a ghost of a smile, keeping his voice low as well, “your king does.”

”You are the enemy our people have been destroying for five generations, no matter what the treaty says,” she retorted.

“I always understood,” John answered, “that you are the enemy my people have been destroying for five generations. It’s all rather a matter of your point of view, really. The be side acts, then the other, and each claim the moral high ground.” A shrug. “But the moral high ground is cold comfort to those of either nation who mourn dead sons and daughters, and restores no life to dead mothers and fathers.” He glanced at her, and shrugged. “Surely accepting a mzungu at the side of your princess is a small enough sacrifice to spare the lives of millions?”

“But it is nice to know that you have aspirations for the throne, with ten people in front of you." She looked sideways at him with a nasty little smile. "Being so unguarded, I think I will wager on your death before your ascension."

A smile of genuine delight lit his face. “Excellent! Say... a thousand ounces of platinum against your oath of loyalty, payable upon my death or ascenscion? And void if I commit murder to seize the throne or if you kill me to win the wager?”

The lion roared and stalked towards them. Nikkol roared back, and John lept forward an jabbed with his spear. A moment later he fell back, staggering as he deflected a powerful clawed swipe with his hide shield. “Come on!” he taunted, ducking a second blow and striking the lion’s nose with the butt of his spear.

The lion roared, then turned on Nikkol. She laughed and roared at it, slashing with her spear and dancing away. It moved to pursue, and John lunged. The lion dodged his thrust and spun, slashing. “Come on!” John laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that!”
 
"Keeper of the Seals," Yusra repeated with a smile. "My how important you must be, to be dedicated solely to keeping seals."

"A mostly ceremonial title of course," Philip said with good humor. "Although it is anticipated that I will be named Grand Chancellor when my brother ascends the throne, making me the head of the Ministry of Justice. So my duties involve studying the law and keeping John out of trouble as much as possible.”

"Remind me not to get into an argument with you then," Yusra laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "I will argue with anyone except lawyers. They're impossible to reason with and always convinced that they're right." She winked over the rim of her cup before taking another sip. "Still I imagine government positions notwithstanding you would be successful in any endeavor."

“I am not, sadly, particularly successful at that last duty,” Philip replied.

Yusra looked over at the stage where John was taunting the lion. "Well, you tried your hardest. I shall vouch for you in front of your father if he manages to thwart your attempts and kill himself to spite you."

~*~

The prince tried to philosophize at her about the morality of war but Nikkol only half listened. The lion was loose and she didn't have time to get intellectual when it was advancing on her. "But it is nice to know that you have aspirations for the throne, with ten people in front of you." She looked sideways at him with a nasty smile. "Being so unguarded, I think I will wager your death before your ascension."

“Excellent!" Nikkol raised her eyebrows in surprise when he grinned. "Say... a thousand ounces of platinum against your oath of loyalty, payable upon my death or ascenscion? And void if I commit murder to seize the throne or if you kill me to win the wager?” She stared for a few long moments before the moment was interrupted by the lion. She roared back and the prince stepped forward then staggered back.

"You'd wager more than a man would make in twenty years that ten people--including children--will die and leave you as king of the Pleiades?" she asked incredulously as they circled the lion cautiously. He taunted the lion and popped it on the nose with his spear like one would a housecat with their finger. It roared again and turned on her. She laughed and roared back, slashing at it then dancing out of reach again. There was a certain sort of ceremony to it after all.

"Come on!" John laughed after narrowly avoiding its claws. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"Tssp! The point isn't to poke it full of holes!" Nikkol snarked. "You don't know our customs, you--ah!" She staggered back, waving wildly with her spear and jabbing to push the lion back again. Blood ran down her face where the beast's claws had swiped across her. She wiped the blood out of her eye to glare at him. "You and your recklessness and ignorance are going to get someone killed!" She snarled at the lion and advanced on it again, backing it into the other hunters' spears.
 
"You'd wager more than a man would make in twenty years that ten people--including children--will die and leave you as king of the Pleiades?" Nikkol gasped out, clearly shocked at his offer.

“You’re making an assumption about my motives,” John chuckled. “Nobody has to die. I merely need to demonstrate my - and Yusra’s - fitness to ascend the throne and persuade them to abdicate in her favor.” He grinned. “I need something to occupy my time, after all.”

-*-

“I am not, sadly, particularly successful at that last duty,” Philip said, watching his brother taunt the lion.

Yusra watched as well. "Well, you tried your hardest. I shall vouch for you in front of your father if he manages to thwart your attempts and kill himself to spite you."

“You are too kind, your majesty,” Philip said with a hint of a smile. “But I doubt it will come to that. John is dangerously reckless, but he does have the skill to back up his boasts.” A cry went up as the lion’s claws raked the face of the woman at his brother’s side. “But I... what?”

In the arena, John hand lunged in and now appeared to embrace the lion.

-*-

“Come on!" John laughed after narrowly avoiding its claws. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"Tssp! The point isn't to poke it full of holes!" Nikkol snarked. "You don't know our customs, you--ah!" She staggered back, waving wildly with her spear and jabbing to push the lion back again. Blood ran down her face where the beast's claws had swiped across her. She wiped the blood out of her eye to glare at him. "You and your recklessness and ignorance are going to get someone killed!" She snarled at the lion and advanced on it again, backing it into the other hunters' spears.

“Probably,” John agreed, circling to his right. The lion crouched, turning to watch him and then sprang. He responded by stepping towards it, bringing his shield up to catch the hologram jaws of the lion and staggering back under the beast’s weight. The spear in his right hand struck out butt first, bracing against the lion’s paw. “Probably me,” he grunted, straining against it, “unless... you’d be so kind... as to... kill this thing?”
 
"I've half a mind not to," Nikkol snarked back, not taking her eyes off of the beast as she circled, attempting to find a good place to strike. There...

With a mighty war cry Nikkol lunged with her spear and struck at the lion's heart. It struck true and she grunted and pushed deeper, feeling the tip of her spear penetrating flesh and the soft organ. Blood ran down the shaft and onto her hand and with a cry of victory she used the leverage to move the dead weight off of John. The cry from the crowd was deafening as the warriors faced their people, fists raised in victory. Nikkol grinned, able to ignore her wounds for now in the rush of adrenaline and glory. The mzungu prince's cavalier attitude, his wager, was temporarily forgotten as her family rushed the stage along with the families of the others to congratulate her and embrace her. The lion faded into nothing, harmless particles of light once more.

When John had lunged at the lion Yusra had sat forward in her seat, hopeful that his foolishness was indeed about to get him killed. The young woman, Nikkol, had looked as though she had considered letting it happen. But no...her choice was rational both for her personal ambitions and because knowing the Hyadeans they would have attempted to bring her up on charges of negligent homicide for not saving their arrogant prince. He had fought admirably, even Yusra had to admit that, but she was glad that Nikkol had been the one to strike the killing blow. With a sigh she rose and squeezed Philip's shoulder gently and leaned down to speak in his ear above the commotion.

"I would love to finish our conversation later, your highness," she said in a low voice, squeezing his shoulder again as she addressed him as her equal, "but I'm afraid I must go congratulate my fiance on his stunning victory."

Straightening she strode forward and seemingly disappeared into the ether, reappearing below at the edge of the stage. Carefully she hugged John and planted a kiss on his cheek. Another raucous cheer went up when she grinned and held his arm up, holding his wrist. The skin on her back split painfully and blood dribbled down her back, but she paid it no mind. "Congratulations, John," she said out of the corner of her mouth, "they may come to love you yet."

Adjatay and Okot had appeared at the other edge of the stage and moved forward now to congratulate each of the participants. Yusra murmured a few words in Nikkol's ear, eliciting a smile, and the men embraced John carefully but a little more warmly than the others as their future brother-in-law. The siblings conferred at the edge of the stage and Adjatay gave her a sly smile before nodding.

Yusra returned to John's side and led him off of the stage as the others trooped off as well, activating a transporter mid-stride to bring him back to the balcony where they had been before. "I told my brothers to keep the cameras off of us," she informed him in a low voice, "in case we become too tired to continue participating in the festivities. They'll go on for hours more, you know. I don't know about you but my back is starting to itch, and fighting that lion has never been an easy feat." She inclined her head toward the stage. "I think Adjatay would be somewhat dismayed if we left separately, however."
 
“You,” Kirul laughed, clasping his hand and dragging him to his feet, “are a singularly insane man, Prince John.”

“What?” he laughed, wincing as the action strained a sore forearm and made fresh blood dribble from scabs that had split against the ground. “Nobody’s ever helped immobilize a lion by letting themselves be pinned to the ground before?”

“Oh, they have,” Yathi said, voice serious.

“Really?” John was suddenly curious. Do you have a name for that strategy?”

Caelan folded his arms across his chest. “Yes. The name is ‘suicide’.”

“Bah.” John waves his hand dismissively. “It was a calculated risk.” He smiled a little, watching Nikkol drink in the adulation of the crowd. “But worth it, I think.”

Yusra joined him then, kissing his cheeks and holding his arm up in triumph. “Congratulations, John," she said out of the corner of her mouth, "they may come to love you yet."

“They may,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth. “And it will e so much easier to rule them, if they do.”

She moved off to congratulate Nikkol, and he accepted the congratulations of the King with good grace. Even if he winced as his lacerated back strained under the warm embrace. “A stirring performance, my brother!”

“One only made possible by my fellows,” John assured him. “And made survivable by the strong right arm of Lady Nikkol.”

“She has no title, my brother,” the king replied.

“Really? That seems a waste.” He watched her laugh at a comment from Yusra. “Perhaps I should grant her one, then. With your leave, of course.”

“As you wish, my brother.” The king regarded him curiously. “What will it be?”

“I’ll have to think about it. Find an appropriate one.” He smiled for the camera as Yusra returned and took his arm. “When I have time.”

The Princess led him toward the edge of the arena, and John’s stomach lurched as a transport beam moved them back to the Royal box. He’d read of them, but never experienced them - the computer control necessary to deconstruct and reconstruct the pattern of the human body was simply not tolerated in the Commonwealth. “I told my brothers to keep the cameras off of us," she informed him in a low voice, "in case we become too tired to continue participating in the festivities. They'll go on for hours more, you know. I don't know about you but my back is starting to itch, and fighting that lion has never been an easy feat."

“It was faster than I anticipated,” he agreed. “Nearly as fast as my training work. And it played havoc with my back.” He rolled his shoulders, aware once more of the burning itch that lit up his back.” “I suppose that natural healing is part of the ritual?”

She inclined her head toward the stage. "I think Adjatay would be somewhat dismayed if we left separately, however."

“No doubt,” he agreed, watching the king congratulate Nikkol now. “How long should we wait, so we can cross the line from rude to simply tired?”
 
"Oh it is fast," Yusra agreed, "but fast does not mean easy. And generally young men undergo this rite before ritual scarification; they do not have the disadvantage that you do of already being wounded. You performed admirably, however, even with the cuts."

"I suppose that natural healing is part of the ritual?" John asked, rolling his shoulders.

"Usually," she replied with a shrug. "We have medical nanobots to help the process if there is a rush on the marriage, or if there are difficulties in the healing process. Depending upon how quickly my brother and your father decide we ought to marry, they may or may not be used. I have an ointment which can help the itching and the pain." She inclined her head toward the stage. "I think Adjatay would be somewhat dismayed if we left separately, however."

"No doubt," he agreed, watching the king congratulate Nikkol now. "How long should we wait, so we can cross the line from rude to simply tired?"

"At least one more of my brother's songs." Yusra rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "And a little bit of the feast. Perhaps an hour or so. I would suggest, however, that you put your eyes back in your head before people start to notice." She nodded at the stage and cocked an eyebrow. "I think I've made my stance clear on the degree of monogamy I expect in our marriage, but before we are married the people ought not see you already eyeing another wife." Bomani cleared his throat from his station several feet behind them, but she ignored him. Who was he to call her out on this particular hypocrisy? At least the cameras hadn't been on her and she had been courting royalty.

The noise had died down and Adjatay was giving some long-winded speech or another. She never paid attention anymore, if she were honest. She was thinking on how to phrase what she wanted to say without alerting Philip. "You said something earlier which caught my attention," Yusra said at last, "but which ought to be discussed in private. I have the ointment in my room and Bomani will guard the door. When we have an opportunity, shall we adjourn there?" She slid her hand down his arm to hold his hand and tilted her head a little to the side, intending to make it clear that he didn't have much of a choice.
 
“At least one more of my brother's songs,” Yusra sighed.

“Well, at least we’ll have some entertainment while we wait,” John remarked diplomatically.

“And a little bit of the feast,” she continued, not dignifying his remark with a response. “Perhaps an hour or so. I would suggest, however, that you put your eyes back in your head before people start to notice."

“Hm? What?” He gave her a nonplussed look.

She nodded at the stage. "I think I've made my stance clear on the degree of monogamy I expect in our marriage, but before we are married the people ought not see you already eyeing another wife."

“Another wife?” He’d have laughed at the suggestion, if he didn’t think it would be seen as rude. “Hardly, Princess. I’m eying a new head of my personal security group - after all, I fully expect Philip to be promoted to more important duties soon. Which reminds me...” He made a gesture, and Philip joined them.

“Yes, my Prince?” Philip murmured.

“The woman in the arena,” John said. “Nikkol. Find out more about her. I want to recruit her.”

Philip glanced at the stage. “And the others as well? They seemed rather well-disposed to you, after the hunt.”

“An excellent idea,” John agreed. “Look into it, please.”

With that he made a show of taking Yusra’s arm and escorting her to their seats, and then another show of interest as King Adjatsy launches into a lengthy speech about ‘uniting two warring nations’ and ‘taking the lead in championing all the far-flung children of ancient Earth’ and generally selling the people once more on the marriage of Princess Yusra to the mad mzungu that had joined the hunt.

“You said something earlier which caught my attention," Yusra said at last, "but which ought to be discussed in private. I have the ointment in my room and Bomani will guard the door. When we have an opportunity, shall we adjourn there?"

“I would be delighted,” John agreed. “I’m curious to know which of several apparently unfortunate remarks I made is the one that attracted your attention.” He glanced at the cameras, and then at the people watching them as the King spoke. “Perhaps a little subterfuge would permit us to leave earlier, though? In my experience, the people love a fairy tale romance, after all.” With that, he leaned in and kissed her.
 
Yusra pursed her lips and cocked her eyebrow again, not entirely believing John's assertions that he was eyeing Nikkol just as his head of personal security. "Well, perception is reality," she reminded him, not one to mince words, "so remember that while you look into her."

They sat while Adjatay droned on about star-crossed love--Yusra wasn't sure whether or not he knew that hadn't originally meant that they had crossed the stars for love--and she quietly made mention of his earlier slip. The sooner they could discuss things in private, the sooner it was possible they might actually get along. Perhaps not all of their personal goals were at perpendicular angles.

"Who says it was unfortunate?" she returned casually. She was forced to react quickly when he leaned in, returning the kiss with apparent enthusiasm and grinning when they parted. "Hold my hand," she said through her grin. When she looked up at the screens half were on her brother, the other half on the happy couple. Over the next quarter hour, she made a show of trying to sneak glances at the screens to see if they were being watched, then failing at being subtle when she pulled John out of his chair to "sneak" away from the celebration. Bomani followed at a respectful and equally less-than-sneaky distance. "That ought to keep the gossip mills turning for the next week or two." Yusra allowed herself to sound pleased with herself as she led John by the hand through the labyrinthine palace.

Finally they reached her apartments. Through several luxuriously furnished antechambers she led John to her bedroom. Lights sprang up in the braziers automatically as they entered the room. The appearance of the room being softly lit by candles was maintained, but more light was given off than would have been possible with real candles. Wordlessly Yusra dug through several drawers of her vanity before producing a small bottle. True to her word, she sat on the end of the bed and patted a spot next to her to administer the unctious lotion. Opposite the bed were open archways which led out to the balcony. Through these millions of stars were visible. Yusra liked to believe that this was what Ancient Africa had looked like at night.

"Your true intentions slipped," the princess informed her fiance as she gently applied the ointment. "You mentioned earlier that you intend to rule my people. By our laws, the only way to do this is through the death of my brothers, their wives, and their children." She kept her touch light. "Do you deny it?"
 
“In my experience,” John replied lightly, “rumor mills rarely need a reason to keep turning. But they can be directed.”

He made a game of matching the blueprints he’d memorized to the physical realities of the halls Yusra led him through, mentally tagging landmarks to make navigation easier in the future. You never knew when you’d have to move in a hurry, after all. Or when certain areas failed to match up with the blueprints, as was the case with Yusra’s apartments. A security measure, no doubt. Assassins would find the difference in the floorplan challenging.

“Your true intentions slipped," the princess stated, opening a bottle and spreading a layer of a mint-scented ointment across his back. It burned slightly, making him hiss until the sensation became a numbing coolness.

“Did they, now?” he replied, letting himself sound utterly innocent. “Then what are they, may I ask.”

The feel of her hands gliding over his skin was distracting, but he forced himself to pay attention as she spoke. "You mentioned earlier that you intend to rule my people.”

“Well, of course I do,” he replied, rolling his shoulders. “If this negotiated peace is to truely hold, we will need to rule your people and mine as a...”

“By our laws,” she interrupted, “the only way to do this is through the death of my brothers, their wives, and their children." She kept her touch light. "Do you deny it?"

“There is another way,” he pointed out. “By your laws, an heir is permitted to abdicate his - or her - claim to the throne, surrendering the right of ascension for themself and their descendants. Which rarely happens, of course.” He shifted a little, turning to look at her. “Unless there is a succession crisis, in which case the chiefs of the tribes of the Pleiades may settle the crisis by vote.”

Smiling, he took the jar from her and scooped out a quantity. “Our marriage,” he said, spreading the ointment across her own scabbed shoulders, “is a political one, designed to force a peace between our nations in the face of an existential threat to all humanity.” He began gently rubbing the ointment in, caressing the arch of her back as he did. “Consider the opportunity, Yusra. If we can unite the Hyades and the Pleiades, and our combined nations end this threat, we will be well placed to, well.”

He leaned close, his chest sliding against her back as he whispered in her ear. “The Solarians have been the power uniting all of humanity, Princess. But why should the far-flung stellar nations look to Earth for leadership, wen Earth looks to us?”
 
John suggested abdication and Yusra couldn't help but snort disdainfully. "You do not know my brothers at all," she said bitterly. "There hasn't been an abdication of the Pleiadan throne in over three hundred years. Even if it weren't nearly unprecedented, Adjatay and Okot are both too stubborn to step down. It would all be business as usual even if the throne somehow did not pass to my nephews. Neither of us could ever hope to aspire to the throne through abdication. Your plan is doomed to fail."

She shivered a little when her fiance spread the ointment across her back and shoulders. Yusra took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain until it had finally numbed and arching her back to shy away from the coldness. The dear boy tried to attempt to convince him of her point of view, and she had a difficult time not laughing at him. But then he leaned in to whisper in her ear and she shivered again, aroused at the promise of such power. Leaning away carefully in an attempt not to hurt her back more than it already did, she turned to look at him.

"You mistake me, John," she murmured. "What I mean to say is that our intentions appear to align more closely than you might think. My mother is descended directly from that ancient prince who thought only of himself, not of his heirs." Yusra put her hands on either side of his face and stared intensely at him. "I intend to take my rightful place on the throne, and I will not depend upon fortune and the will of others to do it."
 
There was a fire in Yusra’s eyes as she shifted to face him. "You mistake me, John," she murmured. "What I mean to say is that our intentions appear to align more closely than you might think.”

“Do they now?” he smiled, sliding closer. The heat of her body prickled his skin as he leaned in, whispering into her ear. “How do they align, Princess?”

“My mother is descended directly from that ancient prince who thought only of himself, not of his heirs." Yusra put her hands on either side of his face and stared intensely at him. "I intend to take my rightful place on the throne, and I will not depend upon fortune and the will of others to do it."

“Only fools depend on chance, Yusra,” he answered, voice low. “The wise make their own fortune.” His hand cupped her cheek, pale against the ebony softness of her skin. “And the bold seize what they want, while others hang back.”

He drew her mouth to his, his tongue slick against her lips as he parted them and tasted her. His hand caressed her shoulder and flowed over the smooth length of her arm, guiding her hand to his hip. “I know what I want, right now. Dare you hang back?”
 
"Only fools depend on chance, Yusra," John murmured softly. His hand cupped her cheek and she leaned her forehead against his. "The wise make their own fortune. And the bold seize what they want, while others hang back."

"Then don't be a fool," she insisted, leaning forward to graze her teeth against his bottom lip. "Seize what you want."

He drew her mouth to his, his tongue slick against her lips as he parted them and tasted her. His hand caressed her shoulder and flowed over the smooth length of her arm, guiding her hand to hip. "I know what I want, right now. Dare you hang back?"

"Never." The princess gripped his hip and ran her other hand to his hair, unaccustomed to the smooth, silky feel of his tresses beneath her fingers. She crushed a kiss to his lips, taking his bottom lip aggressively between her teeth while she slid into his lap, straddling him with her knees on either side of his thighs. "My brothers will meet their demise, and we will take the throne you and I." She leaned down to nip at his throat. "Between our kingdoms we shall rule half the colonized galaxy, together."
 
“Half?” John laughed, his hands digging into her hips and rear, feeling smooth muscle roll beneath the orange and red cloth that covered her. He gasped at the feel of her teeth in his throat, then claimed her mouth in a hungry sis as he explored her. “You think too small, Princess.” Now he was biting at her own throat, encouraging her hips to move against the aching hardness of his cock where it strained against the kilt he wore. “I never have,” he added with a smug grin.

Before he could respond he tugged her dress down over her shoulders, baring her body to her full hips. He’d seen her naked befor, obviously, at the scarification ceremony. But then he’d been distracted by anticipating the knives if the ceremony. Now, inflamed by talk of intrigue and the feel of her body, it seemed there was nothing else in the world but her.

“I always seize what I want,” he informed her, cupping and squeezing one dark breast. His hand, although tanned under the light of a dozen different suns, seemed white as snow against her ebon skin. “And I am unaccustomed to the word ‘no’.” His tongue circled an erect ebon nipple, before his teeth scraped over the tender skin. “What of you?” he taunted, pinching the nipple as he rocked his hips into hers. Then watching her eyes, he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked.
 
John told her that she thought to small as she moved in his lap, grinding against the dick straining against fabric. He seemed proud of it, which made her want to laugh; certainly it was nothing to laugh at, but he had not seen the way the men of Betelgeuse were hung. Instead of laughing she humored him with a returned grin and bit his lip. He tugged down her dress to bare her body, and from his expression appeared to really take her in for the first time. Good. She pulled his shirt off over his head, never minding the scabs and wounds, as he informed her that he always took what he wanted and didn't like hearing "no." She arched an eyebrow, looking down at him imperiously as he squeezed her breast and took her nipple into his mouth.

"I am accustomed," she said, running her hands through his too-smooth hair again and gripping his scalp at the base of his skull, "to the men I share my bed with addressing me as 'Queen.'" Yusra rocked her hips forward again, groaning quietly as he sucked at her nipple. "And I do not have to seize what I want; I am accustomed to hearing men beg." She tightened her grip and jerked on his hair to pull his lips from her breast and force John to look up at him. Her expression was stern and haughty but there was a fire in her eyes as she held eye contact with him. "Beg me as a man properly should before his queen, and perhaps you will remain unaccustomed to hearing 'no.'" She ground against him again, feeling through the cloth his hard length against her wet slit. But this night would be crucial in setting rules for the both of them, and she had no intention of giving up her power over him; Bomani was just outside the door if John decided that it wasn't worth it and left her wanting.
 
“Beg me as a man properly should before his queen,” Yusura demanded, her half-bare body sliding against him as she gazed down at him imperiously, “and perhaps you will remain unaccustomed to hearing 'no.'"

John allowed his hands to ghost over her ebon curves as he smiled up at her. “Queen?” he echoed lightly. His fingers slipped between the bunched fabric of her gown and her hips, exploring hidden skin. “Well, if that’s what you want. My Queen.”

His hands tightened in her hips. With a sudden twist he rolled her into her back, pinning her to the bed with his weight. When her hands came up, whether to grip him or to strike him, he caught her wrists and gently forced them back down. Then he shifted his weight, holding both wrists with one hand and gently stroking her throat with the other.

“You invited me here, my ‘queen’,” he whispered, hand tightening just enough to let her feel the pressure of his grip on her throat. “And I suspect that, your protests notwithstanding, you grow bored with men begging for your favors.” His hand stroked lower, nails lightly scraping the skin between her breasts. Leaning close, he nipped sharply at her earlobe. “You want a man, don’t you my ‘queen’? Not an obedient puppet.”
 
Involuntarily Yusra hissed as her mutilated back hit the mattress. The soft sheets seemed to strike fire from the cuts and she grit her teeth in an effort to bite back any further noises of pain. He would get none from her. Her hand flew to strike him sharply across the face, then the other one. Both were caught and forced to the bed. John shifted his weight and held both wrists in one hand, gently tightening his other around her throat. Rage boiled her blood, firing her loins as he leaned close to nip at her. This one would be a fun toy to break. He sounded as though he were mocking her as he called her queen and made assumptions about what she did and didn't want. Her hands closed into fists as his breath came hot on her throat.

"You are awfully presumptuous," she replied, a rumble of danger low in her voice. Her arms strained briefly against his and, realizing that at this angle she wasn't going to break his grip without serious struggle, potentially ruining the mood, she decided to take another tack. Yusra tightened her thighs around her betrothed's hips and flipped them again, freeing one wrist in the tussle. That wrist shot to his throat, squeezing harder than he had, though not enough to make him fear for his life. Yet. She lowered her face to John's until their noses nearly touched.

"I do not allow a man to tell me what I want," the princess snarled. "And I certainly don't lay under arrogant mzungu lepers. We are in my home; you are beneath me. When I say 'bow,' you bow. When I say 'beg,' you beg. When I say 'kill,' you ask me who, when, and how. If you ever dare to tell me what I want again, especially under my own roof, you will leave here unsatisfied and I will ensure there is not a woman in the entire system who will lay with you. Do you understand?" She freed her other wrist from his grip and pinned his shoulder down. "I said do you understand?" Yusra waited impatiently for his assent; she ached for him to fill her as she ground against him, urging him toward temptation. He had been just insolent enough to piss her off, to fire her blood and make her both need John and loathe him. She wanted to leave more scars on his skin than those on his back, to at least hear him cry out in lustful anguish. She wanted to hear him call her name and give her his seed while she scratched his chest bloody, and she wasn't sure whether it would be better if he agreed to the rules or if she had to make him agree.
 
John’s back screamed at him when Yusra reversed their positions, but somehow the searing pain made him want her more. He gasped as she straddled him, an ebon warrior goddess gripping his throat as she snarled demands. “I said do you understand?" she hissed, her breath hot on his face.

In response, one hand licked around her wrist and the other her throat, squeezing hard enough to construct her breathing. “I understand,” he croaked, throat working against her iron grip, “that you think you are in control of this engagement.” Her grip on his throat tightened, making his cock throb against her stomach and his grip on her through the tighten in response. “That... you think... you are in... a position... to give... orders...”

His lips crushed against hers in a harsh kiss that ended with her lower lip caught between his teeth. Then he bit, hard enough for her to utter a sharp cry. Taking advantage of her surprise he sat up, muscled in his back and stomach straining as he maintained his grip on her wrist and throat. “Maybe... your playthings... obeyed...” he growled, forcing her head back. “But I... am not... so easily... cowed...”

His teeth found her throat, biting with enough force to bruise the dark skin. As he did he released her wrist and gripped her firm rear with bruising force. His nails dug into her skin as he dragged her body against his, until her slick clit ground against the swollen head of his cock. The feel drew an involuntary gasp of lost from him, and he strained at the effort of not simply driving into her. “Now,” he growled, stroking his length against her slit, “Will you beg?”
 
Yusra's insides clenched as John sat up and caught her throat. Whenever she squeezed his throat tighter, so did his grip tighten, forcing her to breathe harder and her wet slit to drip onto his throbbing cock. It would have tasted a lie to say that the way his muscles moved as he sat up and strained against her wasn't at least aesthetically pleasing. It was also intriguing to have a man not simply submit to her, though she wasn't yet entirely certain whether or not she liked that. Experimentally she moved her arm against his grip and his core tightened again to keep his grip on her. John's teeth found her throat, drawing a very slight hiss of pain from her.

"Now," he growled, letting go of her to grip her ass and move her against his length, "Will you beg?" His mistake was letting go of her wrist.

Yusra did not pull any of her considerable strength when she pulled her arm back and connected her open palm with his face, lightning-quick. Already the mzungu's cheek was a bright, rosy pink. Although John had let go of her throat that was a mistake the Hyadeans had made repeatedly in their long history of warfare with one another; they assumed that because they showed mercy, so would their enemies. Instead Yusra only tightened her grip marginally more--calculated to be the tightest it could before it was no longer pleasurable--and shifted her grip. Instead of his throat her fingers gripped his jaw while her palm remained pressed against his throat, and those strong fingers directed his face to her own furious gaze.

"I never beg," she snarled. Yusra gripped his shoulder with her free hand and lowered her aching cunt onto his length, resisting the urge to groan at the relief of finally having him inside her. Slowly but steadily she moved on him, shifting her hips to rub her clit against his shaft as she took him. "When those who ought to beg refuse, I do not ask; I take. Asking is beneath a woman like me. Soon enough you will long to be taken by me, and you will thank me for the privilege." Yusra loosened her grip on his throat a little, tilting her chin back to allow him to lean forward into her. "Lying with a child of Africa is more than a mzungu like you deserves," she said, allowing herself a small moan as she moved on him, "and you will come to learn just how lucky you are that I allow it."
 
The open-handed blow rocked John’s head back, making him see stars. Before he could recover, a powerful grip forced him to stare into Yusra’s coremptuous gaz. Her lips moved and he automatically memorized the patterns for later review, but he was dazed enough that he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying.

But he comprehended the message in the shifting muscles of her thighs and hips, and in the slick vise grip of her inner walls as she lowered herself onto his shaft. “...beneath a woman like me,” he finally made out, over the rush of blood in his head and the soft gasps she made as she stroked up and down his length. “Soon enough you will long to be taken by me, and you will thank me for the privilege." Yusra loosened her grip on his throat a little, tilting her chin back to allow him to lean forward into her. "Lying with a child of Africa is more than a mzungu like you deserves.”

A flare of anger shot through him at that, mingled with deepening aroudal as she moved on him again and moaned lightly through her words. “And you will come to learn just how lucky you are that I allow it."

“Big talk,” he hissed, feeling the way her hand moved on his throat. It loosened, he noticed, on her downward strokes. So he chose that moment to jerk backwards, driving his cock it into her and pulling himself free of her grip. Then, gasping involuntarily as she clenched around him, he shot forward and drove his forehead into the bridge of her nose and downward. It wouldn’t break, most likely, but it would be painful.

She cried out, breath hot on his face, and as he did he rose with a grunt of effort. Hands tight on her rump, he turned and slammed her into the wall hard enough break scabs and bury his cock in her depths. “Too much talk,” he grunted, slamming her against the walls with his hips. Her hands came up, reaching for his face, only to be pinned to the wall as he caught them. “Or will you tell yourself you allowed this, daughter of Africa?”
 
If he had simply broken away from her grip then perhaps Yusra could have allowed his rebellion. But then her face exploded with pain and she cried out in surprise and pain when John headbutted her. Blood trickled from her nose and he carried her off of the bed, slamming her painfully into a wall and causing her back to scream out in pain once more. His thrusts were painful and though her first instinct was to throw her closed fists toward his face, he saw this coming. Momentarily disoriented by the pain, Yusra grunted and struggled against his grip while John pinned her wrists to the wall.

"Too much talk," he grunted. "Or will you tell yourself you allowed this, daughter of Africa?"

The mocking title made her blood boil. Yusra grit her teeth, glaring at him with seething hatred as he slammed her against the wall. "Typical of your kind," she grunted, "thinking you can take what I can only give freely."

It was a trick to get her knees in between them, but she managed when he pulled out to slam into her again. With another grunt of effort she kicked his chest, sending him staggering back. It was impossible to land gracefully in the position she had been in, but Yusra managed to catch herself before she had fallen flat on her ass and sprang to her feet. Everything hurt, but that didn't stop her from grabbing a decorative--but still sharpened--blade from a display and pouncing on him. The kaskara and khopesh crossed atop her dresser had been a coming of age gift from her mother once she had defeated the virtual lion, to remind her of her heritage. When she knelt on John's chest she gripped his hair to yank his head back and bare his throat with one hand, and held the sickle at his neck with the other.

"You have a very rare opportunity before you, Prince," she snarled, fire in her eyes. "I do not believe in second chances, but I will grant you this one. When I let you up, either fix your attitude and we salvage the evening...or you leave and do not return to my bed until I say so, which will be a very long time indeed. Before you make your decision do keep in mind that you will be entirely alone, should you choose to walk away. I have the power and ability to ensure no woman will be alone in a room with you while you remain in this star system. But I do not accept a man to handle me as you have and that will never happen again, do I make myself clear?" Yusra resisted the urge to spit in his face. "So make your choice. Do we start over, or do you leave unsatisfied?"
 
Everything went blurry for a moment, and then John found himself gasping for breath with a genuinely angry Yusra kneeling on his chest with a curved blade at his throat. A ceremonial blade, he suspected, but very functional for all that. He reviewed his own words and actions, and hers, then sighed.

“I beg your pardon, Princess,” he said carefully, feeling the edge of the blade scrape against his skin. “I was carried away in the moment, something I offer not as an excuse for my behavior but merely as an explanation.” Swallowing, he watched her eyes carefully. “I had sought to challenge your assertion that you would be the dominant participant in sex. I did not intend for that challenge to escalate in the manner it did. It was behavior unbefitting a gentleman of the Hyades, and behavior no woman of any rank or world should ever be forced to endure against her will.”

Carefully - extremely carefully - he made a very slight nod of his head in lieu of a bow. “As to my part, I am unconcerned whether I depart satisfied or unsatisfied - that is your decision alone. I will abide by your decision, and ask only that you allow me the opportunity to earn a measure of forgiveness - for the sake of peace between our nations, if not for myself - for my loss of control and my outrage against you.”
 
John made his excuses and her eyes remained hard has he apologized. "Yes, because nothing says 'arousal' and 'romance' like a headbutt to the face and a..." Yusra let go of his hair and used her free hand to gently pinch and test the bridge of her nose. "--Hairline fractured nasal bone." He insisted that whether he left satisfied was her call, no concern of his. Although she highly doubted it, the princess removed her blade from his throat then stood. Despite the blood, Yusra managed to still look imperiously down at him while she stood over him.

"Prove it to me, then," she demanded. "If your satisfaction is indeed not your concern, take this opportunity to salvage the evening. Prove to me that your people actually have self-control and a consideration for others." Yusra replaced the khopesh in its display and sat on the edge of the bed. "As your wife and your queen, I expect your devotion," she said, leaning back on her hands. "And as your partner in our journey to the throne, I need to trust you to keep your word." She arched an eyebrow and nudged his shoulder with her foot. "So keep your word."
 
“Yes, because nothing says 'arousal' and 'romance' like a headbutt to the face and a..." Yusra let go of his hair and used her free hand to gently pinch and test the bridge of her nose. "--Hairline fractured nasal bone.”

John chuckled at that. “It says arousal and romance a much as a bruised throat and a nearly dislocated shoulder,” he replied, rolling his shoulders carefully. “I misread you, and believed you liked things rough.” The edge of the curved blade scraped his throat. “I’m still not convinced you don’t, but I will certainly admit - again - that I pushed things too far. For that, at least, I hope to earn forgiveness.”

“Prove it to me, then," she demanded.

He lifted an eyebrow. “And how do you propose that I prove my sincerity.”

The blade didn’t waver from his throat. "If your satisfaction is indeed not your concern, take this opportunity to salvage the evening. Prove to me that your people actually have self-control and a consideration for others."

She stepped back and sheathed the blade, then seated herself on the bed. John took the opportunity to touch his throat, and found a thin smear of blood on a finger. Nothing bad, no worse than a shaving accident, but a chilling reminder of how close he’d come to death. Sharp blade, he thought ruefully,

"As your wife and your queen, I expect your devotion," she said, leaning back on her hands. "And as your partner in our journey to the throne, I need to trust you to keep your word." She arched an eyebrow and nudged his shoulder with her foot. "So keep your word."

Back to the dominance games, clearly. Well, he’d brought it on himself by losing control. It would be well to yield. For the moment, at least. “As you wish, my Queen,” he replied, unable to fully suppress a playful quality to the words as he ran his hands over her ebon calf. “I am, as I understand it, to prove my own satisfaction is of no concern?”

His hands stroked over her ankle, lifting it carefully to rest on his bare shoulder. His lips stroked the upper curve of her foot in soft kisses, and his hands massaged the sleek muscle of her calf. “But how am I to do that, my queen? How may I prove my satisfaction is not my concern,” he shifted closer on his knees, letting her leg slip down his back as he softly nibbled along her calf to her inner thigh, “when your body is a feast for the senses?”
 
Her body thrilled a little when John called her his queen. It was good to see a mzungu in his proper place, speaking to her as he ought to. "I am, as I understand it, to prove my own satisfaction is of no concern?" he asked.

"For starters," Yusra replied with a nonchalant shrug. "And to make up for how this evening started, considering that there is a definite difference between liking things rough, and doing violence for violence sake. You will prove to me that you know that difference, and if you do not..." She arched her eyebrow again delicately and smirked. "I will teach you."

"But how am I to do that, my queen?" John asked while he slid her ankle onto his shoulder and softly kissed her foot, her ankle, up her leg. "How may I prove my satisfaction is not my concern when your body is a feast for the senses?" Her leg slipped down his back and she let him softly nibble along her calf and up her thigh.

"Oh, you seem to have a few ideas already," she replied, running her fingers along his scalp and enjoying the way his hair slipped between them. "You've proven yourself to be a creative man. Now if only you can turn that creativity to pursuits which aren't so selfish and destructive, perhaps we'll make a civilized lover of you yet." Yusra tugged playfully at his hair as his lips reached her inner thigh. "You must come to learn, John, that your satisfaction depends upon my satisfaction; if we are to be wed, after all, it is better you learn sooner rather than later that a happy wife means a happy life." She smiled and chuckled a little. "I'd rather know before hand that you know how to make your queen happy."
 
“I am a quick study, my Queen,” John grinned, playing along. “And I think you will find me adequately skilled in, as you say, making you happy.”

This sort of submissive game really wasn’t to his taste. A side effect of being a Prince, and ofbeing pursued. Meeting a woman who considered herself his equal - let alone his superior - was... Well, it had truthfully never happened. But renegotiations of their relative positions in their marriage could come later.

For now? Diplomacy was required.

His lips traced further, transitioning to the inside of her hip. The scent of her arousal was strong, and stronger as he stroked his thumbs over the slick, smooth mound of her sex. Gentle pressure opened her, revealing pink, glistening folds. Well, he found himself thinking, some things are the same no matter what.

“Tell me, my Queen,” he murmured, letting his breath caress her flesh. “What would make you happy right now?”
 
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