Homelands Pt. 08 Ch. 02

"So that's...how you got inside my dream?" he asked. "Clever web browsing?"

"Okay, it's a shite analogy, but work with me, yeah?" Liadan said. "Anyway, I'm gettin' tired o' talkin'. This'll be much easier after."

"After what?"

She slipped a pretty little foot out of its heel, worked some kinks out of it, and then gestured for him to approach. With her foot.

He wanted to resist. Even if he hadn't been surrounded by images of Caronwyn, his thoughts would have been with her. But something told him that she wouldn't even care that much. That they'd never vowed to be monogamous. If either of them had taken another lover in all the time they'd been married, he wasn't aware of it, but even so he knew that he wouldn't be breaking any oaths. For all the sense that made.

Perhaps that was because he was dreaming. The dark-skinned woman insisted it was more than a dream, but that didn't make it so. He wasn't sure if he believed her. Most dreams felt plenty real while you were having them, after all.

Besides, there was no denying Liadan's sex appeal. She was unlike his wife in all sorts of ways, and he'd never thought it possible to improve upon Caronwyn's beauty, but the woman presently undressing him with her eyes was insanely attractive. In her own way. Nothing about her was superior to his wife, of course. But different could be good.

He needed to feel those legs. Wrapped around his back, squeezing his head, underneath his palms, between his lips -- it didn't matter. He just had to feel them.

He'd never met a woman with a body like that. So muscular, yet soft in the right places.

Hands still on the leather beside her, Liadan slowly extended her leg, offering her foot to him. He accepted the unspoken request, going to his knees before her and taking the lovely thing in his hands. He massaged and caressed it, pressing his palms into her soles and working her ankles with his fingers. Before he even realized that he felt the urge to do so, he took her big toe in his mouth. No soft kiss did he offer. He made love to her digits as he might have a clitoris, licking and sucking for all he was worth.

Cahill never did this for Caronwyn. Had never really had a thing for feet. But something about the dark-skinned beauty sitting before him made that irrelevant.

A voice in the back of his mind insisted that he did make love to his wife's feet from time to time. That he liked it more than she herself did. Mostly for the symbolism of it, the feeling of shame that came doing for her what few men would do for their woman.

He knew those things, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd done so. Nor the first time. He almost believed that the beautiful brown feet he was worshipping at the moment were the first he'd ever lavished such attention on.

As Cahill worked, Liadan rolled her head back and moaned in pleasure. He didn't need to hear that throaty sound to know that his inexperience didn't prevent him from getting it right. He felt her arousal, but not in a physical sense.

Shortly after he liberated her other foot from its shoe and set about repeating a routine he hadn't even known that he'd mastered, the woman achieved orgasm. As strange as that was, though, he was certain that she hadn't faked it.

"That's a good start," Liadan said, running her toes through his hair as another woman might do with her fingers. "Thank you."

Cahill immediately resumed his seduction. He worked his way up slowly, from delicate ankles to beautifully sculpted calves, past slender knees to thick and shapely thighs. Her muscles were strong and well-defined, yet not so chiseled as to rob her of her femininity. And her nutbrown skin was impossibly smooth and soft. It was to silk what silk was to wool. Their beauty was not marred by any hair follicles, shaving cuts, or imperfections of any kind.

As he neared her thighs, he began to grow nervous. He could scarcely imagine the wonders that would greet him when he got her out of that dress.

He clearly needed a new imagination, because it hadn't prepared him in the least for what he found when she rolled over and pulled the thing off. Her ass wasn't as soft as he liked, but it was still pretty damn amazing. Big, round, and hard as a rock, at least when she wanted it to be. When her glutes relaxed, it was nice and soft.

Without any hesitation, he began performing analingus. After admiring her ass as much as he had, kissing and biting and squeezing it, that was obviously the next step. That most men would refuse to swirl their tongues around a woman's anus didn't bother him in the least. In fact, it excited him.

And she enjoyed it herself. Rather thoroughly.

After her brought her to another climax, she turned around to face him. He'd been about to return to his keens and do for her pussy what he'd done for her browneye when he saw that her dress had returned.

Liadan snapped her fingers and changed the image on the TV screens. Instead of watching his wife get to know their daughter, Cahill was instead forced to watch her make love to Kevin. Or the man he knew as Kevin.

"Stings a bit, don't it?" she asked.

Cahill said nothing.

Then other men joined in. Two, three, six, a dozen. Men of all shapes and sizes, colors and ages. His wife screamed louder and louder for them to fuck her like a real man. To give her the punishment she deserved, the way her wimp of a husband never would.

"That's not real," he said, feeling cold.

"No?" Liadan asked.

He wasn't entirely sure any of this was. But that much, at least, he felt no uncertainty over. His wife would never play the part of an enthusiastic participant in a brutal gangbang. Nor would she beg the men to get rougher with her or mock his failure to abuse her.

The woman he thought of as the Puck, who might or might not even have existed outside his mind, was simply having a wee bit of fun with him.

"What do you want?" he asked her again.

"We've been over that," she said with a sigh. Running her fingertips lightly down his back, she added, "Let's give this one more try, shall we?"

The TV screens changed again. His wife disappeared, but the next scene up was no less X-rated. Cahill watched in horror and fascination as a satyr and a silver-skinned elf double-penetrated a blonde woman with antlike feelers sprouting from her forehead and butterfly wings from her back. The metallic cock filling the sprite's pussy looked small in comparison to the one ravaging her ass, but only because the latter was so huge. By any reasonable standard, even the first one was big. Any other woman would have been screaming in agony, but the fairy woman's face was contorted in ecstasy.

"Would you be knowing who any of them are?" Liadan asked.

"Should I?"

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the ottoman, rather than her. And he was bound at the wrists and ankles. His clothes had mysteriously vanished as well.

Part of him wished he was limp. Rare indeed were the circumstances under which he preferred a beautiful woman to see him at his least impressive, but Cahill felt ashamed of how he was reacting. He should not be as hard as a rock. Not after what she'd just done.

"Not as impressive as I remember," she said.

Cahill scoffed.

Perhaps the "as I remember" part should have stood out most, but his mind hadn't gotten past the first three words. He wasn't a vain man. To count his faults would have required more fingers than a man possessed. But one thing he'd always prided himself on was his size. And here she was telling him she wasn't impressed?

"We've got to get you to stop trying to fit in, yeah?" she said, though he didn't think it was a question. "Be yourself, Kay. For me. And for her."

With that, her dress once more left them, turning into smoke and ashes. Before the cloud so much as began to dissipate, she stepped forward and climbed into his lap.

A better man would have been immune to her charms, but he wanted her bad. There was no helping that. Unfortunately, now that he was finally going to have her, he wasn't going to get to look at her body, nor explore it with his hands. There were worse forms of torture, to be sure, but only so many.

She pressed her impossibly full, unbelievably soft lips to his. As she did, she took him inside her, slowly sliding down his fireman's pole. And by the time she bottomed out, he was twitching his way through a paralyzing orgasm.

"Hmm," she purred in his ear. "Thought you had more stamina as well."

A little nibble of his ear, followed by a soft flick of her tongue, and he very nearly shot another load inside her. That it made no sense for every little sensation to overpower him like that did not matter. He wasn't sure he'd change that if he could, though.

"Show me your true face," she said as she started rolling her hips.

"I'd love to," he replied. "If I had any idea what you were talking about."

Slowly, Liadan worked her way up to a furious pace. Her warm vagina would surround him. Caress him. Massage him. Then she'd pull her hips back so that only his head remained inside her and slam herself back down again. Over and over. Moving faster than was humanly possible. It all felt better than his mind could comprehend. Waves of unbearable ecstasy brought tears to his eyes. But somehow, Cahill held out. He shuddered and struggled for breath, but he didn't cum. Not even when he started to wish he could, if only for the momentary respite it might bring.

"Here we go," Liadan said between sloppy kisses. "Oh, yeah. Almost there."

Then she burst into another orgasm, screaming at the tops of her lungs.

A flood of energy poured into him. That made no sense, but there was no other way to describe it. It was like Liadan's orgasm had smashed a hole in some dam, and the deluge was somehow empowering him.

"Remember now, do ya?" Liadan panted. She pressed a wet kiss to his lips and smoothed back his hair from his temple. "Terrible job I have, let me tell yah. Riding handsome young blokes such as yourself til I pop just so they'll have enough goin' on upstairs to understand what I've got to say to 'em."

He kissed her back before saying, "No idea what you mean, but that was fun."

"Really?" she asked.

He shrugged.

Did that mean she wasn't going to let him finish?

"Arawn, you bloody wanker," she said. "Ain't no veil we've got here, boy-o. Gonna take more work to fix you up."

"Um, yeah," Cahill said.

Then she stuck her fingers inside his head.

It felt funny. As one might expect. But no worse than that, to his surprise. He should have been crippled with pain, but he wasn't.

"It's all banged up," she said. "Like you've been takin' a hammer to it for a while." Her hands slide about, and he felt her knuckles drag along his scalp. "Seems like it repairs itself after you puncture holes in it."

"Obviously," Cahill said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"Right," she said, agreeing with him the way she might have if he'd meant his words sincerely. "That explains why it seems like you get it, then you don't."

"Sure does."

"Just...shut up for a minute, yeah?"

So he did.

And then it all came back to him. At once.

He and Caronwyn were only passing themselves off as a married couple. She was the mother of his children, but so was she his own mother. They lived in sin. Had given birth to two inbred children and conceived a third that very night.

Only their kind didn't consider that inbreeding. Didn't worry about diseases and birth defects. Didn't look down on incest at all. All the clans of Faerie practiced incest, as did the other immortals of the Homelands.

"Oh, fuck," Cahill said.

"And we're back," Liadan said with a smile. She reached up and took hold of something. He felt pressure on the top of his head, like she was pulling on something. One of his antlers, of course. "Horned god, eh?" Liadan asked. "Aye, that fits."

The moment he remembered who he was, his body altered itself. He dropped the mortal disguise and adopted his fey form.

"I see we've changed in other ways," she said, voice dripping with desire. The look in her eyes conveyed such powerful lust, such animalism, that he wanted to throw her down on all fours, mount her from behind, and fuck her pussy raw. "Very, very nice," she said. Perhaps make sure he knew what she meant, she gave her hips a little wiggle, jostling his dick a bit.

When he passed himself off as a mortal, he was big for a mortal. But without the glamour that allowed him to blend in with such flawed beings, he was bigger still. Bigger than any mortal woman could handle, but just the right size for fey women.

It was all more than he could handle.

But he could worry about that later. At the moment, his aunt was sitting on his cock, but hardly moving at all. That needed to change.

He knew that he'd been with her before. The memory felt distant, more like something he'd read about in a book than something he himself had actually done, but they had indeed been intimate with one another before. She'd been the one to convince him to leave the Dreaming and join his family in Faerie.

It was only fitting then that she should be the one to free the memories his father had trapped deep within his own mind. For that, he probably owed her a boon. But, at the moment, he wasn't feeling particularly grateful. All he could think was that he wasn't about to settle for a little finger inside the head action.

"You like watching your brother fuck, huh?" Cahill asked.

He remembered. The satyr was his father, Arawn Dreamsmyth, Lord of Remembrance and Prince of the Emerald Court. The sprite was his aunt Macha, the elf his cousin Duncan.

"Don't tell me it's your nephew that excites you," he added.

He glanced up at the wall of screens. His cousin lay flat on his back in the grass, holding his dick up in the air for his mother to suck on while her brother fucked her from behind. He had to admit that Duncan was a looker. Tall and broad-shouldered, yet thin. He had fine features, a hairless chest, and pretty blue eyes. A nicer set of abs, Cahill had never seen. A certain type of woman might well develop an obsession for him. As his aunt Macha seemed to have, much to his father's disappointment.

Yet something told him that Liadan had different tastes. That she preferred her men a bit manlier. More handsome than pretty, and with a little hair on his chest.

Besides, now that Cahill had dropped his mortal disguise, he was nearly as fit. His eyes were just as beautiful and blue. His waist was even narrower than his cousin's, and his shoulders were broader. Plus, he had a fucking monster of a cock.

"Not that'n, no," Liadan confirmed. "Too pretty by half." Her nose touched his and she smiled at him. "But there's nothing wrong with nephews."

Cahill didn't know much about her. And what he did know was enough to tell him that he couldn't trust her. But there was something about her that just...made him feel warm. And it wasn't the hole between her legs.

If he was smart, he'd get what information he could from her and then put as much distance between them as he could. He wouldn't tarry. Wouldn't let himself get caught up in whatever scheme she had going.

"Now," Liadan said. "Do you want more of me? Or is it time to answer some questions?"

If he was smart.

The ropes fell away and Cahill's hands took hold of her incredible ass.

#

He slept late, the way he always had back before they'd had children. That Caron and the children had let him do so came as a bit of a surprise.

Caron. Nobody but her sister called her that.

It felt strange to remember everything here in the Dreaming. Somehow, that made it all more real. He hadn't doubted the memories Liadan had helped him unlock, exactly, but now that he'd awoken and they were still with him, it was even harder to question them.

Niall and Tynan were his brothers as much as they were his sons. And that made them purebred, not inbred. Children of a forbidden union, yes, but no more prone to disease than any other immortal. Titania, the Queen of Faerie, refused to let Clan Walker conceive purebred children because she feared them, not because she was trying to keep the gene pool pure. By their very existence, his two boys empowered their mother. When they came of age, they'd feed her energy every time they took a partner, no matter who she was. The bond they shared with her was stronger than it would have been if their father hadn't been her own flesh and blood. Stronger then than the one she shared with him, in a way. He was no purebred. Not with a Dreamsmyth for a father.

What a fucking mindjob.

The children weren't even the reason Liadan had visited him, though. He wasn't entirely sure what was, except that Liadan had gotten him to promise her a favor in exchange for the vague warnings she'd shared with him. Why it mattered to her if brother Kearney recovered his memories and returned to Faerie, Cahill wasn't sure, but that was pretty clearly what she'd been after, and he counted himself lucky that he'd come away from the exchange knowing precisely what he'd have to do to repay his debt to her.

Only after fucking her six ways from Sunday had he begun to worry about such things. The late Robin Goodfellow's judgment notwithstanding, his aunt was plenty good at playing her role. Cahill might have interrogated her more carefully if she hadn't filled his bloodstream with endorphins and his Libido with thrumming energy first. He'd been lucky to get a few transparently misleading answers out of her before waking up.

They had to get back to Faerie. Clan Walker was in trouble. What kind, and from whom, remained a mystery. But that much, at least, the Lady of Mischief had been clear about.

They had to go to great lengths to hide their children before they could leave. And they couldn't wait until their daughter was born either. They had to find new homes for their boys and then leave the Dreaming post haste.

The standard changeling routine wouldn't do either. The parents could never be allowed to doubt that the boys were theirs. Waiting for a horrible accident or a tragic illness wouldn't cut it this time. Whatever Liadan's true motivation for visiting him had been, there was no reason to doubt the wisdom of her words in that respect.

Still, the thought made him sick. They'd have to make two healthy mortal children disappear. Kill them. Just so none of the queen's agents would notice that two more changelings had appeared.

His aunt swore that the mortals living in the Dreaming were themselves only dreaming, in a way. When they died there, the dream ended, but their lives went on. Elsewhere. That sounded believable enough, but he didn't like how desperate he remembered his aunt being to have him believe her. He should have asked more careful questions. She hadn't lied to him. Couldn't. But he worried about what she'd left unsaid, and had no way of knowing for certain that the words she'd chosen meant the same thing to her as they did to him.

There wasn't much choice, though. Clan Walker needed its matriarch. Rather urgently.

With a sigh, he climbed out of bed. As he did, he realized that his aunt hadn't done to his body what she'd done to his brain. Though he'd exerted himself strenuously, and for a good long time, Liadan had fed him a great deal of energy. Had left him feeling strong and alert, free of aches and pains. She might not have offered much by way of answers, but she'd been more than generous in other ways.

He went to the bathroom and walked through the daily ritual the same as he had countless times, pretending that he didn't know that such was entirely unnecessary. Sure, he could shower without showering, clean his teeth without a toothbrush, and wear as much or as little facial hair as he chose simply by willing it. But that felt like cheating. And though he didn't really think anyone would catch him in the act, it didn't seem wise to risk letting his supposed wife or their sons catch him using his powers.