Grey Eyes, Green Eyes

+

The road was dusty, rutted and potholed, but quite passable for those on foot.

"Who is this prince, Lord, and why to we seek him out?" Darla asked.

The three, in human form again, were wearing clothes washed hurriedly in the stream and drying on their bodies as they walked. Aldar was finding the girls' seemingly nonstop chatter pleasing, like the twittering of the birds in the forest trees.

Until now, he had told them little, merely emphasizing the need for haste. Now, for some reason, he decided to answer.

"His name is Reigen," he said. "I was in his service."

"Do you still serve him, my Lord?" asked Darla.

"No. For him I have nothing but vengeance." His tone was sepulchral and, the implications of a dragon's vengeance such that neither of the two pressed further.

The few leagues the three had covered by late afternoon was the furthest voyage either of Eldrin or Darla had ever taken. It was an adventure to them, especially when, towards nightfall, Aldar had selected a camping spot not far from the side of a small pond and, to their delight, released both of them from their human forms, instructing them to 'find something for us to eat.'

The two pouted at his pointed clarification: "No humans!"

Still, hunting was hunting and the two soon returned to the tiny fire he had set, carrying a still-quivering fawn, terror in its eyes.

"That'll do," he growled, "but kill it now. Quickly."

Again pouting at having their amusement denied, they obeyed, returning to their human forms in obedience to subsequent direction. The pair looked about for their clothes, only to see them hanging on nearby tree branches.

"It's warm enough," he growled at their protest, "and they'll be better tomorrow for airing tonight."

"You," he directed Eldrin, pointing at the fawn. "Roast it. There's salt here."

"The fire's small for roasting, Lord."

Aldar looked around, decided they were well off the beaten track, unlikely to be discovered. In any case, there were three fighters now.

"Build it up, then."

Pointing to the other girl, he said. "Fetch the soap."

Hanging his clothes on a branch, he strolled down the path to the pond and waded into it. The small blonde woman hesitated, saw him stare over his shoulder and hastened to join him. To her relief, the water in the sunlit pond was warm.

Aldar stretched his arms to the side, allowed himself to fall backwards into the water with a loud splash. He emerged and stood, wiped the water from his eyes. He looked at Darla.

"Wash me, then." He extended his arms and legs, his eyes fixed on her slim figure.

Darla was surprised. This was hardly what she had expected when he had captured her. Tentatively, she wet the egg of soap in the water, worked up a lather and laid the soap carefully on the grassy bank before turning to Aldar. Hesitant, her hands stopped a fingerbreadth from his chest.

"Go on."

She blinked, began to spread the soapy foam over him with her hands. Aldar merely stood, accepting her service.

His back, his arms, his flanks. Her hands lingered over his buttocks, washing, caressing.

Aldar's eyes narrowed, a smile on his face.

Kneeling behind him, head just above water, her hand slid forward, between his legs, soaped his low-hanging sac. Slim fingers fondled its contents before her hand withdrew, began washing his thighs.

"Wait."

He dipped under the water, rose. He again shook his head, turned towards her. His length, half-hard, hung just in front of her eyes. A drop of water formed on its end, stretched, then fell off. Soaping her palms again, she looked up, a slight smile forming on her own lips.

Giggling in spite of her nervousness, the girl stood. Deliberately putting on a broad smile and ignoring his sex, she began to run soapy hands over his chest, up over his shoulders and neck, then down over his abdomen. Lingering for only a moment, her fingers trailed lower.

Laughing openly now, her eyes locked on his, her frothy hand surrounding his manhood, fully hard now. She slid her hand back and forth, felt it pulse slightly in her palm.

Laughing himself, Aldar's hands swept over his chest, gathering soapsuds and, covered with lather, caught her breasts, lifted and squeezed gently. The girl moaned softly as her soft flesh flowed under his long fingers. She felt a knot build within her, a catch in her breath, a soft swelling in her lower lips. His hands rolled and pulled her nipples and the young woman quivered as she raised her lips towards him.

"Lord?" she whispered. Her eyes were very wide.

They grew wider as Aldar began to wash her, firm hands sweeping lather over her chest, stomach, shoulders and back. At his command, she dipped into the pond, rose. Strong arms around her waist lifted her, placed her on the bank, found the soap and continued washing her.

His gentleness was surprising to Darla, her confusion as real as her rapidly-growing enjoyment.

Aldar caught her in his arms, pulled their slippery bodies together. The woman gave a shrill shriek as he again deliberately fell backwards into the water, dragging her down with him.

They surfaced a moment later, water streaming over hair and bare skin. Aldar spun her in his arms, turned her face-down on the bank, pushed her down onto the grass with his body.

Darla gasped as his spongy head probed at her opening, gasped louder as he penetrated slightly, paused, then glided forward into her. His hands sank into her hips, holding her steady as his length moved deeper, filling her liquid depths.

"Lord..." she hissed. Her fingers clenched the grass on the bank, her soft bottom pushed back against his stomach. Within her, the knot caught fire, its warmth flowing through her body, irresistible as an avalanche, as Aldar took his time with deliberately slow, deep strokes. He closed his eyes, focused on the sensation of his engorged head and rim being caressed by the girl's silky lining.

One of his hands left her hip, reached around, squeezed a breast before sliding down between her legs.

Aldar's exploring finger could feel his hardness sliding in between her lower lips. He pulled back his hips and felt his finger on his slippery length as it emerged. His fingertip searched further, found her nubbin, swirled it gently in time to his slow thrusts.

The woman began moaning, low, wordless sounds as her dragon lover's unhurried, relentless thrusts pushed her lust higher and higher. She gave a cry and fell forward, her soft breasts flattening against the grass. Her body heaved, shook as her orgasm consumed her.

Still Aldar continued to slide in and out with his meat, tease with his finger. The girl's cries became louder. Her body writhed beneath him, shivering with a level of pleasure she had never known.

Without warning, he stopped, pulled out. A hard palm slapped one cheek.

"Enough," he said. "Go fetch your sister."

Orgasmic echoes still possessing her, the woman found it hard to rise.

"She's not my..." she panted.

"Are you not sisters?"

"No, Lord. Third-cross-cousins."

"It doesn't matter. You take over cooking. Send her here, now." His flat palm struck her other cheek, sending it rippling beneath the blow.

Darla pulled herself upright, turned. She looked down to his jutting organ, just above the water's surface.

"Yes, my Lord. But..."

"Go."

Aldar watched the girl's pale bum sway as she trotted up the path, a hand-print on each cheek. He leaned back against the bank, smiled, blew a small ring of smoke from his nostrils. This was turning out better than he had thought possible.

In a minute, he heard soft footsteps on the path. He waited, not turning around.

Eldrin stopped just behind him. Looking back over his shoulder now, he smiled at her, indicated the soap.

"Wash yourself."

"Again, my Lord?" she stammered. "Just last night..."

"Wash. In your human form, you will, whenever possible, wash daily." Reaching over, he tossed her the soap, watched lazily as she entered the pond, soapy hands spreading suds over face, then arms, then breasts, before she stood on tiptoe to raise her sex above the water. Slender fingers slid between her lower lips.

"There!" he growled, a low command.

Questioning, her eyes rose to meet his.

"There. Don't stop. Keep stroking."

Eldrin, her face framed now with dark, wet hair, blushed for perhaps the first time in her life.

"My Lord?" she whispered.

"You heard me," he replied. "What you are doing. Go sit on the bank. Don't stop."

Trembling, the girl obeyed. Her finger trailed along and between her labia, stroking, spreading a slickness which rapidly became more than soap. A long arm took her by the knee, turned her to give him a better view. The girl watched as his hand seized his swollen, slippery cock, stroked it slowly.

Was it this that had left Dara smiling like that when she came to fetch me?   she wondered.

A warm breeze drifted over her breasts. She saw the clear look of approval on his face as her finger circled her clitoris, slid between lips dewed with her own need.

His hands came up to her breasts. She moaned when they caught her full nipples, long and hard now with her desire, pulled gently.

"Don't stop."

"Lord..." she gasped. Her breath began to come faster now. She was unable to meet his eyes, could focus only on the growing joy within her.

Aldar's hands left her breasts, closed around her waist. Lifting, he laid her half-way over the bank on her back. His knee nudged her legs apart and she could feel the breeze on her exposed sex.

Stepping forward, his tip searched for, found and probed her opening. Eldrin gasped as he pushed forward with his hips, slid full-length into her. He bent down, his body pressing hers against the grass. His mouth ground against hers. Eldrin's hands closed behind his head, pulled his lips in harder, her tongue playing with his.

The girl moaned as Aldar's tool distended her sex, pushed her excitement higher, further, brighter. A growing heat built in her breasts and belly, shimmering waves rolling through her before suddenly exploding into an incandescent blaze. She shouted in high ecstasy; her feet splashed in the water as she shook with its power. The girl had had many lovers of her own kind, but had never felt such bliss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him towards her as her delight flooded over her.

Aldar abandoned his former leisurely strokes and began hammering into the girl, harder, deeper. His balls tight against his body, he finally gave a low cry of his own, buried his full length into her, pinning her to the ground. Eldrin could feel him begin to pulse and surge within her. His body sagged, flattening her breasts under his hard chest.

They lay there for some time, breathing hard, before Aldar withdrew. He stroked his hand softly along her jaw, a small, gentle smile on his face.

The sight of it astonished the girl more than anything that had happened. Tenderness been never been part of sex for her. In her experience, love — even fondness — was unknown; coupling was often conquest, at best convenient mutual release. The dragon's one soft smile, if not revolutionary, then was at least revelationary.

"Lord?" she whispered, staring wide-eyed.

He smiled, more broadly now, and Eldrin's mind filled with wonder.

In response, he leaned down, kissed her lips gently and felt her arms come up to lock around him.

+

Four days into their journey, Aldar continued their quick pace.

"May I ask a question, Lord?" Darla asked.

Without breaking stride, he turned to look at the pale-haired woman.

"Yes?"

"Have you a... rendezvous with this Reigen? Is there an open challenge? Is he expecting you?"

He stopped. His eyebrows raised in mild surprise. To him, Eldrin had seemed the brighter, more perceptive, of the two.

"No, we have no formal appointment..." He paused, thought. The two were bound to him; apart from that caution developed over millennia, there was no reason not to tell them.

Very well, then...  

"Reigen was my... employer, one of the leaders in this war." He spoke as if it was still in progress. "I was hired as his soothsayer, which was foolish, for no creature can foretell fate, and also as his magician, which was less so.

"He and I had a contract, which he broke. Worse, when I asked for my due, he sent his reply back to me written in the blood of my messenger, my servant -- my friend."

The rage in Aldar's breast surged and his features half-shifted. He snorted a blast of smoke through a long scaled muzzle and the two women backed away, half-expecting his wrath to encompass them.

He took a deep breath and slowly regained his full human form.

"There is a debt, you see. Debts are to be paid -- and collected."

The two shivered at his last word.

"Lord?" ventured Darla. "Why do we walk? You have wings. So do we. We could be atop his dwelling in not very long."

Aldar sighed.

"Reigen will have doubtless hired another sorcerer," he sighed. "His new wizard will have cast a screeing charm to give warning of any but birds in the air and there will be strong wards on his castle. I might breach those wards, but only at the cost of alerting Reigen, his new sorcerer and his allies. If we are to enter, it cannot be through force or magic. No, we must be invited in, welcomed."

"'We', Lord?"

"'We'. Every fall, tradition calls for Prince Reigen to throw his castle gates open for a public masque, an open ball for all to attend. All attending will be in costume, so our wearing a disguise will raise no eyebrows."

"Hence your hurry, Lord."

He nodded.

"And we are we to accompany you?"

He stopped in the path, looked at the two of them. There was a smile on his face, but it was not one the prince would be pleased to see.

"You most certainly are. Reigen is... not a gentleman. You two could draw his eyes away from me even if dressed in gunnysacks."

He chuckled dryly. "You won't be, if it matters."

+

On reaching the capital, Aldar led them down twisting streets, past numerous inns, finally stopping at one which towered over the street. Above the door was a stylized dragon and Aldar chuckled at the impudence of the thing.

The innkeeper, seeing three ragged and hardly clean strays entering, initially attempted to brush them back out into the streets. A small gold coin produced an instantaneous improvement in his perceptions; Aldar and his 'nieces' were ushered into an impressive room with a fireplace and actual glass in the window. A very large four-poster bed filled half the room. He sniffed, looked about, decided it was clean enough, feigned mild disapproval before finally accepting it at a reduced price.

Within a few minutes, a sleepy drudge had arrived to light the fire.

Two pallet beds were produced, if only to ease the corroded conscience of the innkeeper's wife.

The innkeeper, blessing himself for not having insisted the trio leave when he first noticed them, brought in a tray with goblets and a tall flagon of white wine.

"Faltarine, m'Lord," he smiled, producing a silver goblet and pouring a small sample before passing it to Aldar.

The latter held the goblet to his nose, sniffed. To his sensitive nose, the wine had never been within a thousand leagues of Faltar, but it was undoubtedly the inn's best. He nodded in acceptance.

"It will do," he said. "Now, innkeeper, some other things. Soap, hot water, towels, a meal and, oh, a seamstress."

The man had been nodding as he listened, mentally tallying costs and profits. At the word 'seamstress', he looked up, puzzled.

"A seamstress, m'Lord?" A moment later, Aldar could see comprehension sweep across his broad face. "Ah - m'Lord has lost his baggage?"

"Yes," Aldar lied smoothly. "Our pack train was hit with a flash flood crossing a ford. I and," here he waved the two girls, "will need new clothes in time to be properly received for the prince's ball." His eyes bored into the innkeeper's.

"Of course, m'Lord, of course!"

"A skilled  seamstress," Aldar said. "I will also need informal gowns for myself and for both of the young ladies. And footwear and some sundries..." He let his voice trail off.

"Certainly, m'Lord!" The delighted innkeeper, calculating his cut, sent his mind racing through his contacts in the city.

"We will bathe first, eat in an hour, then receive your seamstress. Go now."

+

Another drudge produced a shallow tin bathing tub and began ferrying buckets of steaming water from somewhere.

The three bathed in the uncomfortable but serviceable tub, Aldar first. Naked, he lounged on the bed, admired the sight of the two girls as they washed. He had, he admitted to himself, allowed his mind to lean too far to the austere recently. Human form had some benefits and carnality was close to the top of the list.

There was a knock at the door. "Wait," he called loudly as he tossed towels at the two wet women, gestured them onto the bed and drawing the bedcurtains around them. He wrapped a towel around his waist.

"Come in!" he said. The door opened to reveal the innkeeper with another flagon of wine, followed by two servants bearing trays of food. The man looked around for the girls, noticed the drawn curtains and suppressed a knowing smile.

"I have found your seamstresses, m'Lord," he said. "Given the short time, I took the liberty of engaging two. I trust that meets with your approval?"

Aldar merely grunted, motioned to the serving girls to put the food down. "One hour," he said. The innkeeper nodded and left.

+

The seamstresses had come, had measured and had left. The presence of two young women lodging with a middle-aged man might have scandalized members of almost any other trade, but not seamstresses. Their profession took them into too many back rooms, too many bedrooms for them to be shocked. Indeed, the sketchier the circumstances, the more profitable the sewing. Everybody needs clothing. Everybody pays. It was enough.

Usually.

Aldar had ordered an informal gown of current fashion for each of them, along with a replacement set of traveling clothes. In addition, he'd ordered a formal, full-length court gown for himself, telling the dressmakers to produce something 'interesting' for Darla and Eldrin to wear to Prince Reigen's ball -- something 'eye-catching'.

Having thus stressed the requirement for provocative dresses, Aldar to his inner pleasure found the barely-concealed cynicism of the two seamstresses as satisfying, as comforting as he might ever have wished. If these two harridans thought he was a high-class procurer trying to pander the young women to the notoriously lecherous prince, so would everybody else.

Including, hopefully, Reigen.

+

An evening meal having been concluded and the landlord having left another flagon of wine, Aldar barred the door behind him and turned to his companions.

"Tomorrow will be stressful for both of you. There will be far more people than you are used to, the scents and noise far more than you have experienced. Control yourselves."

The two nodded dutifully.

"You will remember that you are bound to me -- and to my orders. In particular, you will not  change into your true forms without my specific direction. Is that absolutely clear?"

The women nodded again, rather more solemnly.

"Good," he smiled. "There will be food and drink -- help yourselves, but limit your wine. I want you sober when the time comes.

"There will be dancing. Most of them will be circles, men and women holding hands and stepping to the music. It's easy to do and you'll need no lessons. Just make sure you stay together."

Again the two nodded.

"I will attempt to bring you under the prince's eyes. If he asks to talk to you, make yourselves inseparable - hold each other's hands perhaps. I want Reigen to see you as a matched set."