Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 02

It was hard to believe that she was as old as she had to have been. To look at her, Cahill would have thought that Oona was in her mid twenties. Like all the fey, she was young and beautiful. Very beautiful, if nonetheless overshadowed by the one and only Caronwyn. Maybe not quite as young as some of the others. Teagan didn't look old enough to do the things with him and her brother that she did, though Cahill knew she'd never have set foot outside the Dreaming if she hadn't been. But, while his aunt didn't make him wonder about whether there was a legal age of consent in Faerie, the way she behaved made Cahill think that she was of an age with his little cousin.

In contrast, Fiona looked to be about twenty-two or twenty-three, yet she carried herself like a woman of far greater years. Mary Donovan would have said that she had an old soul, if she'd ever had the chance to meet the dryad. That was one of the many reasons he not only loved but admired his sister.

Still, Oona's playful demeanor was infectious. The naughty twinkle in her eye, the crooked set to her mouth, promised a most enjoyable visit.

"This way," she said, turning on a heel. Flowers sprouted up from the soft earth behind her, as ever. "I've got a little game I think you're going to like."

They soon came to a clearing, within which lay the strangest chessboard Cahill had ever seen. It curled up and around in a loopdeloop, like a Hot Wheels racetrack. At the peak, the checkered surface faced straight down. The far end of the board, which once again faced the open sky, did not quite touch the ground. It just hovered a good foot off the grass below.

Strange as the chessboard itself was, the pieces were even stranger. Cahill couldn't tell if they were alive or just very lifelike. The flesh on the statuettes seemed to be made of stone, but the hair couldn't have looked more like actual hair. It seemed to stir with the wind.

The pawns were little pixies, adolescent girls with short hair and svelte figures. On the white side, their flawless skin was pink, their hair blonde, and their frocks off-white. Team black's pixies had baby blue complexions, midnight blue hair, and wore indigo.

The rooks were ogres whose considerably height made the pixies seem even smaller than they were. The brutes were nearly as wide as they were tall too, though their bulk mostly consisted of hard muscle. They had to weigh at least half a ton, if not more. Those serving the white queen had yellow hides and hair like straw, whereas brown mops topped the ruddy brown-skinned brutes on the far side of the board.

The knights were centaurs, identical to one another from the waist up but with coats of black or white on the horse parts to mark their allegiance. For bishops, there were four satyrs, horned men with goat legs whose fur matched the coats of their centaur brethren.

The white queen had hair that was mostly platinum blonde, though streaks of hot pink, bright green, blood red, dark blue, pastel orange, electric purple, and neon yellow were mixed in. The black queen's dark brown hair had similarly colorful embellishments. The former had alabaster skin and wore a gown of woven gold, while the latter seemed to be carved from basalt and wore silver. Each had fingernails painted in a wide array of colors, from pastel to bold and bright. Even hidden under sumptuous attire, the queens' identical figures were clearly in open defiance of biological possibility. To some degree, that was true of all fey women, but the Queen of Faerie made most of her subjects appear shapeless. Her waist was not much thicker than one of their thighs, and the latter were not particularly full. Despite that, her breasts were large and hips relatively broad. She queen stood a little taller than the pixies, but shorter than any grown woman Cahill had ever met. Yet with those curves, there was no doubting that she was a woman.

The king shared a similarly unreal form. He was shorter than most men, but no less imposing for it. His shoulders were insanely broad for his height, if not in absolute terms. His waist was exceptionally narrow. A fey woman with a waist as wide as his was perhaps unthinkable, but plenty of mortal women would have envied its circumference. Both versions of the king had long white hair, too thick and strong have been born of old age. No one who looked upon that beautiful face would doubt the king's youth either. Each wielded a sword nearly as long as the king was tall, with a blade as wide as two of a man's hands. The only difference between the two was the king on the white side wore a red cloak and gold doublet while his black counterpart was garbed in midnight blue and silver, just like his lady.

"Patterned after Queen Titania and King Oberon?" Cahill asked his aunt.

"Yes, but Oberon's no king," she replied. Her eyes drank in the nearest statue. "He's the Prince of the Ruby Court. The Sword of Dawn and the Lord of Valor."

"Is he Titania's son, then, or her husband?"

"Both, of course," Oona said. "Well, her lover, anyway. All her sons are. But Oberon's her favorite. Has been since he arrived in Faerie a few years ago."

Years. Yet the name Oberon was known to Medieval writers. That made Cahill's head hurt. No doubt there was some explanation, but he'd not get it from Oona.

"Our dear queen has ruled over us more or less continuously for as long as Faerie has existed," his aunt explained, in answer to the question he hadn't asked. "She's been overthrown more times than anyone can count, but she always returns to power."

"Can no one bring themselves to kill her?" Cahill asked.

Beautiful as Titania was, and as unrivaled as her command of glamours must have been, he could well imagine that even her most bitter enemies would hesitate to take her life.

"Oh, the deed's been done several times," Oona said casually. "Few find it easy, but many have seen the necessity. That never keeps her away for long though."

Of course it didn't. That was Faerie for you.

"We didn't come here to admire the chess pieces, though," she said, running her nails down his back gently. It was a wonder she'd humored him as long as she had. "Boys? Are you still here?" his aunt called out, eager to get on with the evening's activities. "Sorry to keep you waiting. He was later than I expected."

The air before him stirred. A split second later, a soft pop announced the arrival of two more lovers for his lusty aunt.

Cahill gave a slight start at their abrupt arrival. He'd long since come to expect the impossible to occur in this place, but now that he knew this world was more than a dream, things he'd once taken for granted were starting to seem amazing all over again.

Even more surprising than the manner in which they'd arrived, though, was the identities of the newcomers. Well, one in particular. Reilly, he'd fully expected to see. Rare enough were the times that Cahill made love to his aunt without one or the other of his cousins joining in. Often, the both of them did.

But Seamus?

It wasn't the first time Cahill had seen his brother apart from Fiona, of course. Over the course of fifteen years visiting Faerie each and every night, he'd seen a lot. But it wasn't often that his brother participated in one of his aunt's little orgies. When he left their sister's side, it was usually for their mother, not their aunt.

"Just looking in on Brittany," his brother explained before he'd quite fully taken form.

"She might not be as close to waking up as we thought," Reilly said.

"We can talk about that later," Oona replied. By which she no doubt meant that they could bring their observations to her sister, the clan matriarch.

Cahill regarded the two young men, both of whom were actually older than he was, despite their appearances. They wore the fey guises he was so used to seeing rather than their true forms. Reilly was wreathed in what some of the old tales called fairy fire, bright green flames that gave off no heat. Aside from that, he looked like an ordinary man, if an uncommonly fit and handsome one. With his exceptionally fair skin, bald head, chin-beard, and extensive tattoos, he'd have been intimidating even if he hadn't been surrounded by fire. But like this, he looked a good deal less like a member of a prison gang and more like the otherworldly being that he was.

Seamus' skin was light green in some places and made of tree bark in others. Where hair should have been, there was only a pile of leaves. He didn't quite look like a living tree, but it wasn't hard to imagine that Tolkien's ents were based on fey like Seamus.

When Cahill left the Dreaming behind for good, he'd doubtless be expected to adopt some fey form as well. To become an ogre or a gnome, a goblin or a troll, or some other fantastic creature. No one was simply who they were here. They all appeared as beings that belonged on children's books and D\&D manuals.

It wasn't the first time he'd noticed that, but having realized that he truly was one of them and that it was time for him to leave the Dreaming behind once and for all, that custom seemed a bit less quaint and charming than it once had.

His aunt interrupted his thoughts by grinning lasciviously at him. That grin was no more easily ignored than a slap across the face would have been. "You don't mind, right, sweetie? You like seeing how many guys your aunt can please at once, don't you?"

He actually did. Part of him thought that it should have made him uncomfortable, but the sight of his aunt taking a hard cock in every hole she had all at once made him hard enough to cut diamonds.

"Don't we all?" Reilly asked. Yet even as he said it, he gave Cahill an envious look. He was as convinced as Caronwyn was that Oona desired no one quite so much as she did Cahill, and he liked that not at all.

Because, naturally, the sex was purely recreational among their kind. No strings attached, no romantic bonding, and no reason for jealousy.

Cahill wondered if any of them really believed that, or if they only cite it over and over again like a mantra in the hopes that repetition would make it true.

"So. Here's the deal," his aunt said, ignoring the staring contest her son was trying to instigate. She went on to explain that they were to play games of chess against one another, competing for the right to be her alpha for the night.

Reilly asked what would happen if they each won one game, perhaps hoping another round-robin tournament would be called for in order to break the tie. But Oona wasn't about to wait that long. So she told them that she'd just have to pick one of them at random if a clear winner didn't emerge.

Then they all explained the rules to Cahill. Which were, of course, bewildering. The basic movements of the pieces were simple enough, if significantly more involved. The number of exceptions and special rules, however, was staggering.

"Got it?" Seamus asked after they were done.

"Uh, sure," Cahill said, not at all sure that he did.

He asked his aunt a lot of questions while the two of them watched Seamus slowly eke out a win against Reilly. Cahill tried to follow what was happening, but it was too much. And the pieces kept distracting him. Oona would start explaining the wisdom or folly behind the latest move, and he'd lose himself in awe of the fluid and naturalistic motion of the statuettes.

His brother had apparently dominated the opening of the game, choosing a subtle approach that put him a strong position to control the board when Reilly failed to respond appropriately. There had been a reversal of fortunes in the middle, but Seamus eventually foiled his cousin's main line of attack, and Reilly apparently had no plan B. Cahill would have been blind to all of that if Oona hadn't been there to explain things to him, though. Sooner or later, he'd have noticed that Seamus was closing on in victory, but he'd have had little understanding of how, when, or why the tide had turned back in his brother's favor. Or that Reilly had ever been dominating the board.

In contrast, Seamus put his younger brother in checkmate almost straight away. There were no reversals of fortune, no stymied attacks, and no need for a plan B. The indignity of it left Cahill speechless. His brother had the good grace not to laugh at him the way his cousin did from the sidelines, but his cheeks still burned.

"You'll pick it up eventually," his brother said afterwards, with good-natured smile that made their cousin's smug gloating seem that much pettier. "After you wake up. Takes living in Faerie to truly understand the game, I think. Need to develop a sense for fey logic first."

"Thanks," Cahill said.

For the longest time, he'd felt out of place in the real world. Had thought that his nightly excursions were an expression of his subconscious belief that he wasn't like everyone else. Which he wasn't, of course. But he was becoming more and more aware that he was still very much a creature of that world. He didn't belong there, but it had shaped his identity more than he'd ever bothered to notice. In time, that might change. But it would take more adjustment than he might have hoped.

"Your mother says he's a fast learner," Oona told Seamus.

That made his heart flutter. Had she really?

"Huh," Seamus said. "Fi says he's a bit of a dud."

Cahill threw a hard punch at his brother's arm reflexively, without even thinking about the fact that Seamus in his green man form. His fist connected with rough bark. The blow hurt his hand more than it must have his brother, who laughed even as he staggered aback. Cahill's knuckles were scraped raw, and blood welled up in a few places.

"Course he is," Reilly said, in response to the comment that had provoked the failed assault. "Just look at him. You can hardly even tell he's one of us."

"Your sister wouldn't know talent if she saw it," Oona told Seamus, disregarding her son's comment completely. "Not that anyone can blame her. She hardly ever gets to spend any time with a real man."

"Oh, is that so?" Seamus asked, grabbing their aunt about the waist and lifting her from the ground.

The busty nymph laughed as she whirled through the air. Seamus let her feet touch down lightly on the soft ground. Flowers sprouted up around her ankles the moment they did. Their aunt's Libido started to pulse, thumping like speakers in a nightclub. The way Oona stared in his brother's eyes brought Cahill's Libido to life as well.

"Okay, enough you two," Reilly said, trying to sound more amused than he plainly was.

Not that anyone was listening. Technically, there was still supposed to be a third game, between Cahill and Reilly. But no matter who won that contest, there was no question that Seamus was going to be the alpha. And the entire purpose of the tournament was to determine who would receive that honor. Their aunt had thus lost all interest in chess, and was prepared to give herself over to Seamus completely.

Cahill almost felt sorry for his cousin. If Oona didn't have the same feelings for her son that he had for her, well, the air of desperation that surrounded him the same way his fairy fire did wasn't helping. Didn't he understand that women preferred confident men? That confidence mattered even more to his mother than most women? If he'd just stop trying so damned hard, maybe he'd be more likely to edge out Gallech and Finnegan, his only true rivals for her affection.

Despite the poor boy's protests, Seamus and Oona were quickly getting down to business. For a while, Seamus ignored the other two men. First, he had the busty nymph fellate him and caress his dick with her big breasts. Then he seduced her so masterfully that Cahill grew jealous of his brother's evident talent. After a while, he remembered that there were two other guys there, waiting their turn. That only drove him to taunt them though. Reilly especially. He asked the two of them how they liked watching Oona gag on his cock, or whether they wished they could suck on her tits and taste her juicy pussy. The angrier Reilly got, the more Seamus seemed to enjoy mocking him.

Eventually, he instructed Cahill and Reilly stand to either side of the busty beauty, holding their dicks at the ready while they watched Oona give Seamus yet another blowjob. Every now and then, he'd have her to turn to the side suck one of their dicks instead. When she took Cahill in her mouth, Seamus would let her go at it for a while. But she was never permitted to pleasure her son for more than a few moments.

It wasn't hard for Cahill to imagine how torturous their cousin must have found that. Had it been him and his mother, he'd have been about ready to strangle Seamus. Heck, he himself was finding his brother's games painfully hard to endure, and Seamus wasn't being nearly as cruel to Cahill. Every time their aunt took him in her mouth, Cahill told himself that there was too little pleasure to be had from such a brief experience for it to be worth getting disappointed when her warm mouth retreated. But he was wrong. Very, very wrong. The little nymph really knew what she was doing, and even a fleeting chance to enjoy her mouthwork was intensely pleasurable. Reilly's suffering had to have been unbearable.

Worst of all, Oona seemed to enjoy making her son suffer every bit as much as Seamus did. That had to hurt.

After Seamus grew tired of that, he allowed Cahill to join in. Not Reilly though.

"There's a good boy," Oona whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head and her body tensing up as Seamus went to work. "Keep forgetting you're not as tame as you seem."

Cahill joined his brother in the attempt to tease the floral nymph within an inch of her life. Their aunt soon found herself on the receiving end of the most meticulous, torturous, expert oral seduction any woman had ever experienced. And she loved every second of it, Cahill was sure, no matter how much she squealed and begged and pleaded for them to put her out of her misery. They licked and teased, caressed and pleased, bit, smacked, and squeezed, turning sweet again a moment later. Oona grew more and more excited with every abrupt shift. Her hips squirmed constantly and her ass cheeks danced delightfully. By the time Seamus finally worked his way up to sliding his cock inside her pussy and Cahill offered her his own member to her mouth, she'd gotten off twice.

As was bound to happen, Reilly decided he couldn't take anymore. Without asking his cousin if it was okay, he went around behind his mother and motioned for Seamus to let him take over. Seamus grunted, pumped his dick in and out of Oona's snatch a few more times, then pulled out with a weary sigh and made way for the redhead.

Which was, of course, Cahill's cue to withdraw from his aunt's mouth and insist that it was his turn to fuck her hot snatch. Reilly started to protest, but when Seamus ordered him to pull out, their cousin did so. The rules were the rules, and Seamus was the alpha.

With every inch that disappeared inside his aunt's tight box, Cahill came closer and closer to orgasm. Waves of ecstasy rolled over him. Her warm hole welcomed him , her inner muscles massaging him gently as he proceeded. Once he was all the way in, she really went to work, her muscles contracting and relaxing rapidly while she amplified his sensitivity.

He stared down at her ass while he worked. It was quite a bit smaller and flatter than he preferred. It kind of sort of almost jiggled when he slammed into her, but there just wasn't much there. Good thing she made up for it elsewhere.

For his part, Reilly was enjoying the best blowjob his mother could give, and her worst put other women to shame. He was soon too far gone to care that his cousins had made him the low man on the totem pole. In Oona's capable hands, or her warm mouth to be more precise, that wasn't such a bad place to be.