A Matter of Blood Pt. 05

"Thank you, Aunt Syrlin," Adewyn said with sincerity, "I'm...not really sure about any of this. I just know that I want your son's child very much, and that he has been more than good to me."

I blushed a little. Adewyn wasn't the sort to speak of such things, although she had other ways of expressing her affection for me.

"Adewyn, your mother will be so happy. This nonsense with Tyr notwithstanding, she's always only wanted both of you to be happy. She's spoken with your father about matching you two before."

"Are you sure?" I asked, "She's never really had much patience for me. Not that I blame her, I was a bit of a truculent child."

"That's just how mother is," Adewyn said affectionately, "She likes you a great deal. She...she told me in confidence that she hated what happened to you, Finn. I know she supports Tyr still...but I hope that you won't be too harsh with her."

I laughed, perhaps a bit more ruefully than I intended.

"I don't blame her for that. I blame her for letting Tyr do as he wishes. I don't believe that he can be saved."

"Saved?" mother asked.

"I forgot, we didn't have time to explain things to you," Adewyn said, "But he went on the Journey and he failed. He...he's not sane, and he won't ever be."

I squeezed her hand. I knew her struggle with what he'd become, and knew that she still felt guilt over the harm he had inflicted on her. Sometimes she still said that she deserved it.

"The Journey?" mother asked, more confused than ever.

"Oh," Adewyn said, with a bit of hostility, "Yes. It's an archaic and dangerous tradition where our male relatives must go into a poisonous cave and speak to monsters that may or may not exist in order to be truly king. For some reason they did not see fit to inform us of this."

"Is this true?" mother demanded, "Did your father take this...this Journey?"

I felt bad for her. Learning that your beloved dead husband kept secrets such as this could not have been easy.

"Yes," I answered, with no reason to lie now, "He passed. As did I. Tyr failed, but survived. Bayrd passed, but failed to understand the lesson of the cave. Or rather he willfully chose to ignore it."

Wait. How did I know that last bit?

Adewyn sighed. I noticed with some alarm that she looked much more tired than she had before.

"Let me walk you to your bed. You need rest, more than I."

I was feeling very protective of her lately, for obvious reasons. She took my arm without complaint, which meant that she must have been more exhausted than I thought.

"Will you wake me if Raisa returns with news?" Adewyn asked as we strolled.

"No," I said, "I will not. It can wait until tomorrow. I want you to rest as much as possible tomorrow as well."

She rolled her eyes but wrapped her arms around mine.

"As you wish, husband," she said, without a trace of irony.

"I like the sound of that."

"What, me agreeing with your manly commands?"

"No, we both know that won't last. I meant hearing you call me husband. I shall endeavor to call you wife from now on."

We had reached her tent. She leaned in and kissed me on the lips, very gently.

"If I wasn't so tired, I'd have my way with you tonight. As it stands...I think you should lay with your mother. She needs you to be her man now. I doubt I'd get much sleep next to you anyway, what with the messengers and all."

"You have no problem with that?"

She shook her head. I was surprised. In theory I could lay with whoever I liked. In practice I had two women that I loved very much and did not wish to drive away through behaving, well, like the younger me would have.

"Not at all. Neither would Raisa. We've discussed it before, alongside other likely possibilities. After all, were father still alive, we might not be yours alone."

"True. Sleep well, wife."

"Oh, I do enjoy how that sounds," she said, before yawning.

I waited while she removed her clothes and lay down. I pulled the blankets over her myself. I had put a few extra female guards outside her tent, largely to assuage my own guilt. I was leading an army but I felt that I needed to be with her constantly as she carried my child. I wonder how father dealt with this. I wonder if he even shared my sentiments. I knew he loved his sisters, but he could be very cold and harsh with them if they got out of line.

I returned to my tent, surprised to find my mother sitting on my bed, hugging herself. She'd put out the lantern and I could barely make her out in the dim light of the campfires. I drew the tent flap closed, which made her just a shape in the darkness. The typically self-assured woman looked a bit lost, her eyes haunted. I'd say that she looked worse, but somehow, even after all this, she looked beautiful. For some women, vulnerability only makes them more desirable.

"You know, father and I used to discuss you rather amicably."

"Indeed?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. We both appreciated you greatly as a lover. For whatever reason we never really felt jealous of each other, with regard to you."

She smiled, a little more wantonly, which is admittedly what I was going for.

"It's because I knew how to keep you both happy and worked very hard to never, ever leave either of my men neglected. I know you and your father didn't always see eye to eye, but it would have grieved me greatly if I ever caused any of that strife."

"You never did. I...I had a dream of father last night. I believe it was a vision."

"Really? Why do you think it was more than a passing fancy?"

"He called me a feckless whelp, and gave me some good advice. It was all very much in character for him."

She laughed and it delighted me to hear. No woman had a more enticing laugh.

"Really. What was his advice? Knock up your sisters?"

"Have empathy and take a broad perspective of things. Not all that exceptional. Although he was able to convey some of the things that he learned before he died."

As soon as I mentioned his death she looked away from me. I felt awful but I knew what I had to do.

"Mother," I said, "He used great magic to arrange this. He knew his time was coming and he wanted to be sure someone would be there to correct his mistakes and save his family. His last words were to you."

She looked up now, directly into my eyes, as if challenging me to try and comfort her.

"He said that there is nothing to forgive."

I will admit that while this seemed fairly general to me, it touched something very sensitive in her, perhaps due to the specific wording. She drew her hand to her mouth, tears forming immediately in her eyes. It was as if a wall crumbled, and I saw her as she was, truly. I saw that whatever Bayrd had forced her to do, she still felt deep guilt over it. I saw that she felt responsible for everything for never discussing his attempts to seduce her. I saw that she missed my father more than any one of us could know, and had desperately wished to speak to him and beg his forgiveness. All this was visible to me, and father had tried to help her heal from beyond the grave with abut a single sentence. In that moment, I admired him more than I ever had before, and perhaps understood him better than any of his other children.

I sat beside her on the bed and drew her to my chest. Intending no overtures, I simply held her as she cried.

"He might think so, but I know I should have done more," she said, after a long time.

"You did what you thought was best. As did he. If they were mistakes, then they were honest. And all of us make them."

She looked up and me and smiled.

"I should stop comparing you to your father. You are your own man. I expected more anger from you and less forgiveness. I was, in the end, a terrible mother to you. I failed in every way to protect you."

I snorted a laugh.

"I have plenty of rage, but I have many worthy targets. If you failed me by not seeing the truth, then I failed you twice. I foresaw nothing, and I left you in the reach of a monster who I considered a friend. Do you think me an awful son."

She shook her head.

"Then you are a good mother. And I need you."

Her gaze turned so rapidly it was almost frightening. One moment it was loving, but simply warm affection, the next it was scorching with its desire.

"Really?" she said, placing her hand on my thigh, almost idly, her voice dropping into a throaty whisper, "And how do you need your mother?" She turned and straddled my leg.

"Do you need to hear her soft exhalations as you crush her to you?" I felt her large, firm breasts press into my chest as she whispered in my ear.

"Do you need her loving touch on your cock?" Her small, agile hand found my shaft and felt it from outside my trousers. I moaned. No woman knew how to touch me like the one who had taken my virginity.

"Do you need to suckle at her breast?" This time I took the initiative, feeling her breasts through her gown, perhaps a bit roughly. She gasped. I knew how she liked to be touched as well. I reached around behind her and began to undo the laces I found there. She raised herself and moved even closer to me to make it easier. Her breathing was rapid in my ear and her hands were trembling on my chest. I couldn't tell if she was nervous or excited.

As I pulled the last lace free, I unceremoniously pulled her bodice down, exposing her torso as she drew her arms out of the sleeves. She stood quickly and impatiently, and stepped out of her gown before she rejoined me in bed. I pulled my shirt and trousers off with incredible speed.

"Or perhaps you just need her soft, warm, cunt?" She said as my mouth found her nipple and my hand found her warm, wet sex. She gasped, but as my hand found her other breast she winced, and made a little yelp. I stopped.

"No," she said, "don't stop. It's just a little pain. I don't mind. No!"

The last objection was do to me speaking a word and relighting the lantern with some basic magic. I sighed. The women I loved had been injured far too often lately. She looked away but made no move to cover herself. My cock twitched. She was still among the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Bruises weren't going to change that.

Her skin was paler than mine, her hair was still dyed a glossy black, although streaks of white were showing through. The lantern light made her violet eyes seem to twinkle and dance. She was never a tall woman, and carried the extra curves of a mature woman who'd borne a child. She was a little thinner than I remembered, but her breasts were still large and her hips remained proportional, giving her an obvious hourglass shape. She took great care with the entirety of her appearance, even going to the length of rouging her large and hard nipples. She used cosmetics but never attempted to look younger, and somehow managed to enhance all of her natural mature beauty which had always drawn men's desire. I had seen many risk my father's wrath and attempt to flirt with her, even knowing she was his First Wife and thus off limits. Despite this she had always remained true to her two men: father and myself, and we had both adored her. Sitting there, I rediscovered my lust and love for her.

And then, of course, were the marks that my uncle had left upon her. One was on her neck, clearly and obviously from being choked, and not in the way one might with a frisky lover. Her entire left side, including part of her breast, had ugly marks all over, which appeared to be from a beating. She sat on my bed and drew her legs up before her protectively, which enabled me to see the dark lines on the back of her thighs.

"I didn't want you to see this," she said, "I wanted to be a gift for you. I knew that you'd worry if you saw. And, of course, they're hideous."

"Can you not see the scars I bear now? Do you think them hideous?"

"You're a man. You know it's different. You don't need to make me feel better."

"I'm glad you didn't cover them," I said, moving towards her on the bed, passing my hand through her soft hair.

"Why not? If I had simply hidden the marks and not gasped in pain, you would have been inside me by now, taking your pleasure with my body. I wanted this to be special for you. As my apology. Now you're going to be valiant and comfort me and insist on letting me rest," she said, then sighed, "Sometimes I wonder how someone as good as you came from someone like me."

I laughed, which startled her.

"You make me seem a knight of legend, but you overestimate my chivalry. I'm going to comfort you, yes. I'm going to make sure you feel safe, and loved, and hold you. But only after I make you feel very, very good because I'm going to fuck you hard, mother, like you need, and perhaps even make some more bruises, but in other places. I'm afraid your son has become a bit of a wolf."

I moved towards her, a predatory glint in my eye. As I did so she released her legs and parted them naturally for me. Her chest and face were flushed now and I knew that I could make her wild with desire. We met, and kissed, me pushing her onto her back with my ferocity. My cock laid up hard against my belly and mother ground against me with her wet slit. It took a great deal of concentration not to simply enter her, but I hadn't seen her in so long, and I wanted to make this memorable for her.

A son should take good care of his mother, after all.

She kissed me with expertise that no other lover had, sucking and nipping at my lips before exploring me with her tongue. I knelt, pulling away from her, and her eager mouth followed me up, tasting me, probing me, showing me how much she desired me. I found her sex with my hand, it was soaked, her fine white hair soft on my palm. As I slipped my first finger into her, she moaned into my mouth and then lay back down, her back arched. She was already grinding against my palm, making little chirps and gasps as she approached orgasm.

"You haven't had a cock, a real cock, one that made you cum, in a while, have you?"

"Oh god, Finn. Not for more than two years. Fuck, like that, oh fuck touch me, son. Sometimes...sometimes I prayed for you to return so I could be with a man who I loved...and who would care for me and fuck me how I needed...oh gods that feels good. I felt so dirty and selfish, but I fucked myself with my fingers nearly every night to thoughts of you. Oh gods!"

Her wet warmth twitched and spasmed around my finger as she had her first, small orgasm. I knew her body better then any other lover. She needed time and care to be spent upon her, to be loved and taken in equal measure.

"You...you can take me...oh gods...now...Finn. Please..."

I smiled cruelly. I had never stopped finger fucking her, even as her body went limp from the first orgasm.

"No," I said, before kneeling between her legs, locking eyes with her, and sucking her clit into my mouth. Her taste was hard to describe, smooth but sharp, like aged whiskey.

"Oh gods, Finn. It has been so long...I love...oh gods...I love you. I'm yours now. All yours. Only...oh gods...yours."

I pushed another finger inside her, a little bit roughly, my tongue lapping eagerly at her labia and then back up to her sensitive nub. I looked up at her and she was watching me through eyes half-closed with pleasure. Her soft, curved form was covered in a glistening layer of sweat from our exertions. She was about to cum again. I pushed a third finger inside her and sucked her clit into my mouth again, then released it and began to lap it in alternating patterns, but ever increasing speed. I felt a rush of warm liquid as her sex lubricated itself again.

"Oh gods, Finn, Finn, Finnnnnnn!" she cried out, her hands in my hair, grinding her mons against my face, desperate for more sensation as the orgasm rode her, took her, and carried her like a wind storm. I wasn't done with her yet. Her body pulsed and twitched as I seized it, and pulled her close to me roughly, then kissing her soft, lovely belly and moving up to her breasts. I worshiped there for a time, taking one nipple in my mouth and squeezing it tightly between my lips while my hand tweaked the other one.

"Oh fuck. Yes, Finn, my good boy. Oh yes, suckle there, suckle and bite as you did long ago. Show your mother how much you need her body."

I looked up at her and saw her in her glory her hair pressed to her head with sweat, her eyes glowing and alive, her smile sensual but also full of the promise of love. Her legs, short but strong, wrapped around my waist as she pulled me up to her.

"Do you want your son's cock so badly, woman? Why should I give it to you?" I said with heat behind my words, provoking her to beg. I knew that she loved for her men to possess her, to demand from her rather than ask, to take and own.

She paused and pressed her fingers to my lips briefly, locking eyes with me, looking at me with intense and almost mournful love.

"I am my son's slut. I will always be his. I will be his plaything and I will love and serve him. I will kneel before him and pleasure him and drink his seed as if it were the finest wine. This is my oath to you, if you will but give me your fine, hard cock. I love you."

I entered her with some force, grunting with the effort and with the great pleasure of being inside her again. She cried out, loudly. She tried to hold me within her but I was beyond being controlled. I gave her long, fast strokes of my cock, each impact making her squirm and whimper. I felt her nails digging into my back and knew that I would be bleeding when we were done. I kissed her then nipped and bit her on the less bruised portion of her neck, with full intent of leaving my own marks.

"Yes. Make me yours, Finn. Do it. Take me and fill me with your cum. Make me your property, your willing slut, oh, oh gods, Finn, I'm cumming...oh please..."

We came together, desire overriding both of our ability to speak. Her eyes rolled back and she gripped and pulled me into her with fantastic strength. I drove into her as deeply as I could go, intent on filling my mother's womb with my virile seed. I felt long strands of cum leave me, over and over, until my cock hurt, spasming in her. For her part I could feel her body tense and relax over and over as the orgasm rolled over her, driving her to great heights and leaving her powerless to do anything but ride the wave. I finally felt more warm liquid around my cock.

We collapsed together, tangled limbs and soft kisses and panting need to be together, to be one with each other.

"I love you, Finn. I'm sorry I couldn't save you," she said, with tears in her eyes.

"I love you, mother, and there is truly nothing to forgive."

We held each other like that for a long time, hands exploring each other, kissing, nuzzling. There were no words until we fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up a few hours later, and unable to stop my mind from dark thoughts, I settled for being relaxed and holding my mother protectively. She must have noticed and woken up herself.

"I'm still quite fertile, you know..."

I was surprised by this sudden conversation, and then worried.

"If you're carrying Bayrd's child, I won't be..."

"Oh, Finn, I know you would support me and raise such a child as your own. I'm not pregnant though and I did absolutely everything I could to prevent that from happening. I...I simply meant that I went to the healers you have here in camp and had one of the Goddess' Chosen divine my body. She said I was largely healed from...my experiences and that I could very well still get with child. Even that it would be quite likely if I made love with a virile man soon. I was surprised...but I will confess to being a bit excited. After all, there's only one man I want to leave his seed inside me any more..."

"Gods woman are you trying to get fucked again already?"

"Of course I am. What kind of a mother would I be if I didn't properly care for my son? But more sincerely, is this something that you would welcome? Even for a Pureblood, inseminating your mother would be a bit...scandalous."