Homelands Pt. 09 Ch. 06

Feeling especially impish, Cahill allowed the fairy fire to burn for a few seconds after her climax ended. Her body would be hyper-sensitive, unable to handle the slightest touch, while they continued to stimulate every single nerve ending directly.

Cruel though it was, when it threw her right back into orgasm mere moments after she'd experienced a monster, he smiled. And so did Liadan, when was finally able to once again.

"I see my brother has taught you some of his tricks."

"Arawn's never tau-"

"Not him," she said, trying to prop herself up with unsteady elbows. She failed and gave a sigh, equal parts consternation and self-effacement. "The one who's been living with you."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Cahill admitted, crawling up to lie beside her. To look into those beautiful brown eyes. There was no reason to deny it, of course, but he enjoyed toying with her. "You might be surprised how little anyone but my grandmother ever sees of him."

"Actually, that doesn't surprise me at all," she said. "He was never my type. Far too pretty. But little Obie sure knows what he's doing."

"That you used to call him?"

"He hated it," she said, running a hand down her face and over a lovely breast.

"Can't imagine why."

"You. Are. Ridiculous." She rolled onto her side. "I can't even." Liadan mouthed biting into something, brilliant white teeth gnashing sharply. "Nom Nom."

Cahill laughed. "Uh oh. Sounds like I might have damaged something."

His aunt crawled onto his chest at an angle, one hand reaching down to take hold of his cock. She jerked it lazily, hand facing the wrong way, while staring into his eyes. "Why don't you just stay here? Take your father's place. You know, until Faron's old enough to murder you in your sleep. Or challenge you to a duel for my honor or something."

He gave her a quick kiss. "If things were different, maybe I would." The hair he smoothed back from her face was thicker, slower to retreat before his advancing fingers, than he was used to. He rather liked it. "But I'm already filling his shoes with someone else." A sly grin spread across his face. "Seems dear old Dad doesn't seem to have much follow through."

"He really, really doesn't," Liadan said. "I'd tell you about all the plans he's abandoned, except that would only bore you. And you don't need more reasons to think ill of him."

"Probably not."

"Speaking of follow through, mister," she said, sounding a bit like his mother all of a sudden. "Did I hear that you completely squandered the boon you were saving, the one you didn't want to waste on me?"

Cahill scoffed in indignation. "If I recall correctly, your idea of using it on you was-"

The hand that was still stroking his cock sped up, and the flow of energy from her palm intensified several times over. Cahill couldn't have finished the sentence if he tried. All he could do was gurgle.

"Not the point," his aunt said. "We're talking about you, not me."

When she eased up, Cahill said, "Guilty as charged." He took a moment to gather his breath before continuing. Fuck. She'd taken him to the very brink of orgasm in fractions of a second. "But, in my defense, I didn't know whether he'd make the difference for their side or not. I've never fought beside Oberon before."

"Is that why you think it was a mistake?" she asked with a smile that, at long last, reminded him of the Puck. "Interesting. I must have heard a different version."

Very much aware he was being chastised, Cahill still felt the need to kiss her. Deeply.

"Okay, the whole idea was pretty stupid," he said afterwards. "Confronting your mother directly is not a winning strategy. I've now learned my lesson."

"Hope so," she said. Ecstasy in its purest form started to rain down from her fist, doing wonderful things to his groin and abdomen. When he peered down the length of his body, Cahill could almost believe he saw a woman holding a sparkler rather than giving a preternaturally effective handjob. "I love this whole pissing her off by talking her children into abandoning her thing. But, then, it's easy for me to. I'll be gone when she lashes out."

"You and which others?" he asked.

Liadan sighed. "I don't know. It's gonna be hard to convince some of them. Especially your father." Her hand stopped pleasuring him and he felt her Libido cool. "Can I just say, failing to shake his obsession with our mother has done wonders for my ego."

Cahill felt a stab of pain hearing this. No matter how she'd used him in the past, while serving as the Puck, he now saw that she was a changed woman. Or perhaps had never been who he thought she was to begin with. That seemed to be something of a recurring theme with him and the women of Clan Dreamsmyth. At any rate, he wished they could just set that all aside. Maybe even pretend they didn't belong to different clans. That they were family, whatever Faron and his commitment to the matrilineal ways of the fey might think.

"He doesn't deserve you."

She smiled a most patronizing smile. Then promptly changed the subject. "It's funny," the woman who'd literally made him believe in his dreams said. "You'd never have set foot in Faerie were it not for me. And now it's because of you that I'll be leaving it."

"Not just yet though, I hope."

A small grin preceded the sweetest kiss he'd experienced in some time. "No. Not yet."

She straddled his hips, guided his hands up to her breasts, and slowly took him inside her. He was cumming before half his length disappeared.

Were it not for her kids, that bedroom door might have stayed closed for a week.

#

"That was...considerate of you," his mother said, lips tight. "I'm glad you were only gone for nine days rather than a full two weeks."

Cahill sighed. He slipped the knife out of her hand, placed it on the cutting board, and spun her around. "I know. I should have thought of it earl-"

"Or maybe not spent so much time with her, in any part of any world," she interrupted. "You know. That's one way of looking at it."

He frowned. "You're cute. But not cute enough to pull off passive-aggressive."

She laughed even as she slapped his chest. "Says who?"

"Me." He grabbed her perfect ass, squeezed tight, and kissed her.

When he let her lips move freely again, his red goddess said, "Besides, I'm not cute. Maeve's cute. Cori's cute. But I am most certainly not cute."

He shrugged. "Suppose not."

The word did have certain connotations. It suggested rounder, more youthful features. His mother was gorgeous. Blindingly so. But not cute.

"And, for the record, you're handsome, but not hands-"

Cahill kissed away the rest.

"I'm sorry," he said in all seriousness when their lips parted. "I got carried away."

She regarded him from under a furrowed brow. "You picked a good time to pull these sort of shenanigans. I have every right to be much more upset with you than I am."

"You do."

"You have Gallech and Oona to thank that I'm not."

His brother and his aunt were both back among the living now too. Because of course they were. Nine days, as his mother had said. Not a small amount of time.

"He's a god, and she a goddess." The moment his mother's mouth fell open and her eyes bulged, he rushed to add, "But definitely lesser deities. Not at the heart of the pantheon."

Caronwyn smacked his chest again. "You're pushing your luck, mister."

"I love you."

"That's not a Get Out of Jail Free card."

"A lot."

She put her hands on her hips, glowered at him, then kissed him. Several times. The last one lasted almost as long as it needed to, and brought both of them to gentle climax.

"You stop it," his mother said afterwards, chest heaving. "Or I'm going to be forced to have my way with you right here on the kitchen floor."

"The horror."

"There are little children in the next room."

Cahill cupped her buttocks. "So let's go upstairs."

"Not now. I'm making dinner."

"Hasn't always stopped us."

For a moment, she looked truly tempted. But then said the very last thing he expected her to say. "The next person you stick that thing into had better be your sister or you're going to be in trouble. She's been looking forward to it for a long time now."

Cahill had no idea what to say to that.

As she straightened out her clothes, Caronwyn then promptly changed the subject. "Who do you think she'll take with her? You already said Arawn won't go. What about the others?"

He thought about that. Or tried. He was still a little hung up on the woman who was kinda mad at him about his extended tryst with Liadan commanding him to fuck Fiona. Granted, the former was a Dreamsmyth, spawn of the queen they all hated, while the latter was her own beloved daughter. But it still made his head hurt.

Eventually, though, a few synapses fired. "Macha's probably out. But Kearney and Teagan will be only too happy to go. Can't say I know a single thing about Uillym."

His mother frowned. "She won't be too devastated by the loss of either of those guys."

No, probably not.

"But if she can convince Macha, and thus Duncan? That would twist her ovaries."

"Does that hurt?"

His mother shrugged. "Can't say I've ever experienced it. Doesn't sound pleasant."

Cahill snickered. "I think you're right, though," he said, trying to suppress the mental image. "A lot depends on Macha. I wish I had some idea of whether she and Liadan are close. Unfortunately, I don't know much about either."

"You sure spent a lot of time studying one of the subjects," his mother said dryly. "Looks like you need to learn how to take better notes."

"Hmm," he said, as ponderously as he could manage. "That must be the problem. Highlighting every sentence rather than just the important ones."

"Every sentence, huh?"

He covered his face. "That's not what I meant."

It wasn't far from wrong, but it still wasn't what he'd meant.

"We need some sort of system. Keep track of how far in the hole you are, and what-"

"Far, far in the hole. The way you like it."

She rolled her eyes. But a giggle passed through her lips.

"-and what you need to do to make up for it," his mother finished, stressing each and every last syllable. And grinning uncontrollably.

"Sounds like there could be numbers involved," he said. "If I was any good at math, I wouldn't have needed luck to win at poker."

His mother made a show of wincing in sympathy over the pain he'd suffer. "Numbers. Yes. Pretty lar---no, nevermind. I'm not gonna make it that easy for you."

He snapped his fingers.

"Your standards aren't very high, you know." Then she rushed to add, "When it comes to comedy." With a smile, she said, "Your taste in women isn't so bad."

Cahill smiled. Then said, "I really am sorry."

The lovable rogue thing suited him well, but he had fucked up. Big.

Caronwyn sighed and rested her head against his chest. "I know."

#

Cahill, Seamus, and Oberon were all drinking whiskey when an unseen force took hold of his shirt and yanked him off his feet. He let out a cry as he fell back, mentally preparing himself for a hard fall on the patio, but when he landed, it was atop Fiona's bed.

"Hi," she said crisply.

He laughed up at the beautiful sister kneeling above him, looking all proud of herself. "Could have asked. I wouldn't have said no."

"This was more fun." She had her hands tucked in between her thighs, which were squeezed tightly together. "You should have seen the look on your face."

"Thought you were entertaining Gallech."

"Oona wanted to borrow him. I was starting to get bored anyway, so I said sure."

He noticed that she had a pair of leggings on, as well as a nice lacy bra. Couldn't quite say she was dressed, but she wasn't naked either. "Took a little time to freshen up first, I hope?" he asked, as if he was actually concerned.

Fiona rolled her eyes. "You guys worry so much about that. Is it because you really don't put much trust in our hygiene? Or is the thought of coming into contact with another man's cum that traumatizing?"

"Is there a third option?"

She smiled, and he felt her Libido begin to swell. Incredibly. Whatever depraved thought had just popped into her head, she liked the hell out of it. "I'm not leaving any room for doubt about who's child I'll soon be carrying."

"Seriously?" Cahill asked, sitting up at last. He took her hands in his. "I assumed after everything that happened, you'd be having this conversation with Seamus."

"We did. I made it clear that he's got plenty of work yet to do. Another two kids at least." Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed his fingers. "But you first. I want to finish what we started. Get back what the fire took away from us."

He didn't think that was quite how it worked. But of course she didn't either, he was sure. His sister was just taking a little poetic license.

"Assuming, that is, you have no objections," she said. The look on her face was teasing, but he picked up a twitch of doubt in her Libido.

What could he possibly have done to give his sister reason to think he'd ever refuse her? In any way whatsoever? "Of course not," he said, throwing his arms around her and giving her a bear hug. "You have no idea how happy I am right now."

So, of course, that was when he got pulled away abruptly for the second time that day. But not by anyone interested in using his body for their pleasure. Nor his drinking buddies, who were probably wondering what had happened to him by then.

No, it was Titania.

The Queen of Faerie had reached across two worlds to get to him.

First Savannah then the Dreaming whisked past and he suddenly found himself at the heart of her grove. Where his aunt had died and his grandmother had been tortured.

How the fuck she did that, despite the protective glamours that had sure seemed to be doing their job up until that point, he had no idea. But there were soon much more important things occupying his attention. Like the effort of trying not to cry any more blood, or holding down whatever remain in his stomach now that he'd vomited several times already. Like simply trying not to pass out from the pain.

The queen had him tied to the very tree he'd rescued Aeife from and had summoned a giant squirrel to stand below him and chew his cock off. One mouthful at a time. Repeatedly. Each and every time the cursed thing finished its meal, Titania would make him whole again. Just so that he'd have more to lose.

To either side of him, dangling from identical oak trees, were Oberon and Arawn. They were suffering similarly gruesome fates, also infinitely repeated, but their punishments had been chosen to fit their supposed crimes.

His uncle, who Titania had said transgressed by failing to see the beauty he'd had and the ugliness of what he'd chosen instead, was continually sacrificing his eyes to her majesty. And what was Titania using to carry out the deed? Why, hot pokers, of course.

That made Cahill regret ever having expressed the desire to do such to Titania. He didn't think he'd given her the idea or anything. Not unless she could read minds. And lacked the imagination to come up with the idea on her own. But every time he heard that revolting sizzle, a stab of guilt vied with the giant squirrel for his attention.

For failing to report Liadan's treasonous intentions before she and the others left Spring, his father was forced to part with his tongue. And it was his own trembling hand that cut it off each time, though Cahill very much doubted the poor guy was in control of it.

A thousand ways to end their suffering came to mind. But Titania had denied them all to him. Denied him the very essence of who he was. He didn't know how she'd done it, just as he didn't know countless other things about her, but Titania had cut them off from their Libidos entirely. He might as well have been an ordinary mortal, he was so helpless.

Worst of all, the fucking bitch couldn't even be bothered to watch after a while. She'd gotten bored and left them there, their various torture schemes left on autopilot.

Around the third day of their suffering, or perhaps the third hour, a song filled the grove. The woman's voice, which might have been Titania's but for its accent, came from everywhere and nowhere. It taunted them and their pain.

Oh m'dear boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,

From Faerie to Dreaming, the time's surely come,

All of Spring's gone, me glamour falling,

Me clan's left me, and the Hunt's done.

As was only fitting, a pair of pipes joined the haunting voice.

Don't come ye back, to fey forest or meadow,

For ye, it's the valley hushed and white with snow,

There ye'll be, while I'm here in shadow

Oh m'dear boy, m'dear boy, I loved you so.

Cahill wanted to scream. The physical pain, he'd almost become numb to. But he couldn't listen while Danny Boy, of all songs, was twisted by Titania.

Don't ye come, even if me flowers be dying,

Nor if I be dead, as dead I may again be,

There's naught left for ye but lying,

Cold and dead in the snow in the land of She.

She? She who?

The song, hardly uplifting to begin with, was starting to chill his blood. What was all this about them lying dead in the snow? And why were cold and wintry images being evoked in two consecutive verses? What did that have to do with Spring?

Wait.

No.

They weren't being given over to her?

Cahill knew even less about the Matriarch of Winter than he did of Spring. But he knew enough to know that the Titanias of the world hoped to grow up to be like Daphne. That she made the Queen of Faerie seem soft and caring.

I canna wait to hear tha way ye'll curse me,

Yer my graves'll forever restless be,

An each an' e'ry time, ye'll hate me,

No peace shall ye know, which's only as it should be.

Well, wasn't that just the cheeriest verse of all.

So. They were to go from being tortured constantly by one mad queen to being killed endlessly by another, even madder one. Lovely. Just lovely.

As should have come as no surprise, that was the moment when the two queens arrived.

Titania looked as lovely as ever, the cunt. She wore translucent underwear and incorporated every shade of every color into her appearance somehow or other.

Her companion, who could only be Daphne, was even worse. Her hair was all one color. Pitch fucking black. A were her nails, her clothes, and, he could only assume, her Libido. Raven's feathers lined the collar of her dress, diamonds the bust, sleeves, and waistline. Where Titania was all color, this one was all stark contrasts. If not for her bright icy blue eyes and bright red lips, she'd have existed in a world of black and white.

Through the pain and suffering, delirium and desperation, he still managed to find her quite attractive. He hated himself for doing so, but Lady Winter was beyond gorgeous. Even his mother seemed plain and ordinary in comparison.

And her body? Forget it. To so much as allow his eyes to drift below her neck was its own form of torture, if not quite as bad as the one involving the squirrel. She had bigger breasts than his mother and a smaller waist. Curves more extreme than he'd ever imagined.

He hated her the moment he laid eyes on her. Her association with Titania was enough to ensure that. But so too did he love her. He couldn't help it. No man could, he suspected. She was desire made flesh. And powerful glamours surrounded her. Radiated out from her. Drew men's eyes, and hearts, and other parts. Like moths to a flame.

Well, no. That wasn't the right metaphor. She could never be likened to fire. But still.

"These three?" the cold queen asked her colorful counterpart. Her voice was deep. Much deeper than Fiona's or Liadan's. It made his body, which ought to have been incapable of such reactions by that point, shudder.