Homelands Pt. 05 Ch. 02

"It looked so easy in The Matrix," he said.

"Yeah," Veronica said. "Maybe we need more leather. And sunglasses."

Nick chortled.

They had suited up. But the idea was to blend in, not look good on a poster. Nick wore navy blue slacks, a white button down, dress shoes, and a gold tie. Veronica wore a gray skirt, white blouse, and gray blazer. Stockings and heels, too, of course.

He wondered what she would look like, wearing those and nothing else. But that was just about the last thing that should have been on his mind at the moment.

In a pocket of reality adjacent to their own, where they would be close at hand but wouldn't set off metal detectors, Veronica had stashed a dozen knives and just as many throwing axes. She'd also practiced surrounding herself in protective energy. She should be able to wade into the fray and calmly pick off her targets with telekinetic attacks.

For his part, Nick had focused his efforts on mastering shadow play. He could turn entirely incorporeal or become partially insubstantial. There was no need for him to possess a physical body when he could strike out with fists and tentacles and blades made of shadows. He'd wrested trees up by their roots and sliced clean through them in a single blow. All of which was fairly easy, when no one so much as made a peep to disrupt his focus.

How this would all work out when there were men shouting at the tops of their lungs and charging wildly at them, all while spraying gunfire, he wasn't quite sure. But they didn't have the time to practice under more realistic circumstances.

"We're really doing this?" Veronica asked.

"For Patty," he said.

Veronica sighed. "Yeah. For Patty."

He sensed something green flash across the surface of her Libido. If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not even have noticed.

"Vee," he said.

She took her hand back and looked away. "I know."

"That's not what this is about."

"I said `I know' didn't I?"

Nick planted his hands on her shoulders. "I'd storm the gates of Hell for you."

"No such thing."

"Read that in Grandma's diary too?"

She pulled away from him and went to stand at the edge of the rooftop. Her heels clicked dully on the weatherized tiles underfoot.

He came up beside his sister, put a hand on her back, and said, "That came out wrong."

"I wanted to tell you."

He stared into her big, brown eyes. "Forget it."

Part of him would have loved to have known why she didn't. But that was a conversation for another day. If ever.

"Point is, I'd storm the gates of the Shadowed Glade of the Moon for you. Or the Eternal Garden of the Sun. Assuming either one has any gates."

Veronica grinned faintly. "So what you're saying is you wouldn't go that far for Patty?" Then noose tightened. "Or you would, which means that what you're really saying is that I don't mean any more to you than she does?"

He gave her ass a little pinch.

His sister giggled and gave her booty a little shake. Then they turned to face each other, slowly, and kissed. Long and deep.

"I'm just so scared, Nick," she said. "I'm trying not to be. To be calm like you. But, for fuck's sake, this is serious shit. We've never done anything like this before."

"I know. And Mom would kill us if she knew we'd used the `L' word."

Veronica slapped his chest. "That's not what I mean!" She fretted at her lower lip. "But it's not helping. Because, yeah, everything I just said is doubly true."

Running a hand through his sister's beautiful black hair, Nick said, "It'll be okay."

"What if it's not?"

"It will be."

"And if it's not?"

"We'll figure something else out. Go see Mom, and Grandma and Grandpa. They'll think of something."

"So we're talking about Patty again?"

Nick kissed her forehead.

Veronica stood up straight, met his unwavering gaze for a few moments, then glanced out across the street at the headquarters of Brave Old World, one of the primary holdings of House Bravo here in the Playground. Somewhere in that six-story building, they'd find one or two of the king's sons.

"Okay," Veronica said. "Let's do it."

#

The warm water felt good on her sore muscles.

Their kind didn't need to shower, as they could easily clean up with a mere thought. But she'd spent twenty long years pretending to be mortal. That meant showering, cooking, cleaning, and shopping even though she didn't have to. It also meant wearing an aging body when she'd have preferred to be beautiful.

Granted, Annie was gone now. Everyone was, besides Eric. He alone would never leave her. There was no need to go through the motions. But she couldn't help herself.

In times of stress, people find comfort in the everyday, the routine. Or so she'd always heard. And as she waited for her brother and his family to arrive, she found a lot of truth in that old adage. It was like the warm water washed away not only the remnants of the hours she'd spent making love to her son, but also some of the fear she had about what would happen when they returned to Summer, with no intention of kissing anyone's feet.

The door opened and a blast of cold air filled the bathroom.

"Eric!" she gasped, laughing. "How about a little warning?"

"Sorry," he said as he drew the curtain back.

He was already naked. His perfect body held her captive, hypnotized. Her son's waist wasn't a whole lot wider than her own. Yet he had shoulders as broad as a telephone pole was tall. His muscles were huge, lean, and hard. Despite that, no one could call him bulky. Not with that V-shaped torso. And abdominals that perfect simply didn't exist in nature. His legs were long and strong, each head of his quads well-defined and pronounced.

Coarse, golden-brown hair covered his legs and surrounded his manhood. From the waist up, though, he had just enough hair to mark him as a man without it obscuring much of his beautiful muscle tone. A little happy trail ran up through the valley between his left and right abdominals and formed something of a sparse triangle on his chest.

The cock dangling between his legs was large, despite being mostly flaccid. Even at a fraction of the glorious size to which it would swell after she got her hands on it, it was stunning. He was at least as big, if not bigger than, every guy she'd ever been with.

All those thoughts ran through her mind in a matter of moments. She slid the black curtain back into place, turned away from her son, and said, "Care to help with my hair?"

Without a word, Eric scooped up her shampoo bottle, poured a glob into his hands, and began massaging it into her hair. His fingers worked her scalp delicately. She hadn't realized just how soft a touch her son could have.

Perhaps Nick didn't have anything on him after all. Not even a little.

"Mmm, that's nice, honey," she said.

He slowly spun her around. Lest shampoo get in her eyes, she kept them shut. But she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as she wondered what her son had in mind. Something naughty, perhaps? Maybe shampooing the little tuft of hair between her legs?

Better.

While still working up a lather in her hair, he planted soft kisses on her nose and forehead and eyes and lips. The time between each kiss varied, so she found herself thinking that she knew when and perhaps even where the next kiss would fall, only to find that she'd been mistaken. Gabriela tried to engage her son in a kiss. But when she puckered up, he went for her nose. Just when her lips relaxed, Eric kissed them.

"This is torture, mister," she said, giggling. "I may have to ground you."

"Just try," he said, giving her ass a good smack.

"Ooh!" she said, covering her buttocks instinctively.

"Now lean back," he said.

She did as instructed, rinsing her hair clean.

"Your turn," she said, reaching for the shampoo.

"Nope. Not done with you," he said.

"Oh?" she asked.

He poured some body wash into his hands. "Turn around again."

Again, Gabriela did as her son bid. When his strong hands pressed against her thighs, then worked their way slowly up to her full buttocks, she felt a tinge of excitement.

Hank had tried to convince them otherwise, but he'd never quite found either of his wives all that attractive. She hadn't caught him staring at other women too many times, but all of his indiscretions were cast in the same mold. Her former husband preferred his women looking like toothpicks with big boobs. Neither Gabby nor even Jennifer fell short in the one department, but he'd undoubtedly found both of them to be too curvy, what with their actual hips and round asses and legs that looked like legs instead of stilts.

For the longest time, she'd feared that Eric would prove to be his father's son.

The first few times he'd told her that he loved her ass, she'd been skeptical. After all the time he'd spent obsessing over Olivia and Zoey, it was hard not to be. But, increasingly, she was sure that he didn't take after his father after all. The way his Libido stirred whenever his hands came in contact with her soft orbs told her that he appreciated everything she had to offer, not just her breasts.

"You like Mommy's ass, huh?" she asked. "Don't think it's too big?"

Eric pressed his stick dick into the cleavage between her buttocks, leaned down, and rained kisses on her. "You've got to be kidding." A few more kisses. "It's perfect. The modeling industry likes flat little boring things. Asses that barely even qualify as asses. Asses no one would bother to stare at. That way, no one will accuse them of putting anything too racy on the cover of magazines."

Gabriela snorted. "Not sure that's quite it."

"Whatever," Eric said. "This," he added, reaching back down to give one cheek a good squeeze, "is perfect. You've got the most amazing body. I can't keep my hands off you."

Moaning contentedly, Gabriela leaned forward, pressing her hands against the wall, and pushing her ass back against her son's hands. He continued rubbing the shower gel over her mounds, into her crack, between her legs, and up her back. His fingers brushed against her labia a few times, but he didn't follow up.

The teasing bastard.

"Okay, rinse," Eric said, stepping back. He slapped her bare ass again.

"Yes, sir," she said, giggling, as she turned around to let the water carry away the foam.

After she felt nothing but smooth skin, she turned back around. Facing the shower head, she again pressed her hands to the tiles an popped her ass out at her son.

"Pass the inspection?" she asked.

"Hmm, I don't know," he said, feeling her up. "Nope. Looks like I missed a spot."

Before Gabriela could wonder what he meant by that, her son dropped to his knees and started licking her crack, tonguing her anus, and squeezing her cheeks in his strong hands.

Moaning, she forced her sphincter to relax so her son could probe a little further.

"Ooooh, god, baby," Gabriela said. "That feels good."

How had she gone this long without realizing how pleasurable ass play could be? She started to shudder, and thought she might reach climax even without an clitoral stimulation.

"Honey, if you don't fuck me soon, I might explode."

His tongue darted back in between her round cheeks, swirling around her delicate skin. As he worked, he slipped one hand up between her legs and started playing with her swollen labia and her stiff clitoris.

"Please," she moaned. "Don't make me wait any longer."

So, of course, Eric stood back up.

Gabriela tossed her head back, groaning in protest. "You are evil."

"Was just helping you shower," he said. "Don't know what you had in mind."

She turned around to see him squirting more body gel into his hands.

"Now your front," he said.

Her vagina tingled in anticipation.

Only again he disappointed her. In the best possible way.

He started with her ankles, kissing her thighs while his hands lathered up her lower legs. Gabriela was ready to burst by the time her son finished his northbound journey, but to her dismay, he planted one quick kiss on her labia then started washing her upper body.

It felt nice to have him play with her breasts for a while.

He spent about as much time on her swollen nipples as he did spreading foam over her body. Her nipples missed his eager mouth. For some reason, as an infant, he'd always favored her left breast. She was amused to note that he still did. Her right nipple got a little lonely every now and then, but it made her head spin to be reminded that the gorgeous, well-endowed young man pressing his handsome face against her chest and the insistent youth she'd once breastfed were one and the same.

Just as he had her thinking she might cum from that alone, Eric told her to rinse off.

"One more time with that, and I might disown you," she said.

"Not likely."

She sighed. He was right.

After she rinsed of again, he washed between her legs. Thoroughly.

It felt so good, she almost didn't have a chance to wish it was his fat cock instead of his fingers. With his surprisingly deft motions, her son brought her to a quick climax.

"Now your turn," she said after regaining her breath.

But she didn't get very far in her campaign to tease him before he spun her around, pressed her against the wall, and took her from behind. Forcefully.

"You don't mind more anal play?" he asked while slamming his fat cock into her tight cunt. "Because I can't stop thinking about how badly I want to fuck that gorgeous ass."

"Do it," she panted, without even thinking. "Use me however you want."

So her son started to work his thumb past her ring of muscle while he drove his huge dick into her cunt a few more times. By the squishy, cool feel against her sphincter, she guessed that Eric was using the shower gel as lubricant. Gabriela wasn't sure how well that would work, but couldn't bring herself to care.

Well enough, it turned out.

Just as they heard a car pull up into the driveway, Gabriela screamed her way through a monster of a full-body orgasm.

#

"Hold it steady. Almost there."

Her grandfather's words barely penetrated Annie's thoughts. The fish was fighting hard. Her instinct was to fight back, but her grandfather kept saying that the best bet was to let them wear themselves out first. To wait until after they stopped struggling to reel them in.

"You're doing good, sweetie," he added, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You handle that thing like a pro."

She almost lost it.

Not because the hand on her shoulder had startled her. She wasn't quite that lost in concentration. Nor even because of the double entendre. Rather, Annie nearly let the fishing rod get yanked out of her hands because the feel of her grandfather's skin against hers made her knees buckle and her spine shiver.

She spared a glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

He was about as hot as hot got.

In the past, Annie had never really thought she'd had a type. Unlike Olivia, who seemed proud of the fact that she sometimes fucked ugly guys just to prove how slutty she was, Annie had never hooked up with a guy who wasn't attractive enough to make her friends jealous. But some of those guys had been jocks, some slackers, and some hipsters. Though most had been tall, some had only a few inches on her. She'd been with guys with long hair and guys with buzz cuts. White guys, black guys, a few hispanics, and even one Korean. In their own way, they'd all gotten her engine revving.

Now, though, she'd figured out what kind of guy she really needed.

A man.

One whose face was etched with the lines of maturity. Who carried himself with an air of authority and experience. A man whose face was rough and leathery, yet who was easy with his warm smiles. Who had perfect, white teeth, and deep laugh lines in his otherwise tight skin, and liberal amounts of silver in his lush, dark hair. A man with strong, rough hands, yet a gentle touch. A man with a body to make her brothers jealous.

Her grandfather was that man.

He was a bit bulky. Didn't have Eric's narrow waist and extreme V-shaped torso. Some women might have therefore preferred him to be a little sleeker. But Annie couldn't get over how solid he was. He was maybe six or seven inches taller than her, yet he had to weigh close to three times what she did. Yet there was hardly any fat on him. He was completely ripped. Not in a gross, veiny way though. There was just enough flesh, to say nothing of his light pelt of thick, dark hair, that no one was likely to mistake him for an anatomy chart.

More like a wet dream come true.

Lying atop that big chest and rippling abs, with those thick arms wrapped around her, she'd feel safe and warm. Well, and more than a little horny.

All of which would have made it impossible for Annie to resist him even if he'd been a complete jerk. Which, of course, he wasn't. He was the same sweet, kind-hearted, jovial grandpa she remembered. Only now he was wearing a damn sexy body, instead of looking like Santa might have if Santa ever got some sun.

It hadn't been an hour since she'd first laid eyes on him, and she'd already rode his stallion a half dozen times in her mind. Or allowed him to mount her from behind. Or laid flat on her back while he knelt atop her.

When he'd taken his shirt off on the way from the cabin back to the lake, she'd almost fallen flat on her face. She'd blamed a loose tree root, but the twinkle in her grandfather's eye had told her that he knew the truth, and he was flattered.

Her mother had suggested that Grandpa Randy show Annie around the parts of the island that were open to them. Annie had assumed that was her mother's way of trying to help her ease into her new life. Looking back, she realized it might have been to give her mother some time alone with her mother. But either way, Annie was glad she'd made the suggestion. Part of her wanted to suggest that they go back to the cabin and find an empty bed, but she was enjoying the buildup too much.

They both knew what was going to happen, of course. It was who they were.

But the fleeting touches, the awkward way they both pretended that there was no other way to interpret it when her grandfather complimented the way she handled a rod, the lingering gazes that ended so abruptly when they got caught staring, were all working together to create a raging tempest in Annie's Libido.

The fish yanked and yanked and yanked at the line. The rod bucked back and forth, threatening to escape her grip. Annie didn't want to disappoint her grandfather though. So she held tight. Tighter than she thought she could, drawing upon a hidden strength from somewhere deep within her.

A few more dramatic jerks and the line settled down.

"Atta girl," her grandfather said.

Annie allowed herself a satisfied grin. She waited a moment to make sure the fish wasn't just trying to lull her into a false sense of security, but when it became clear that her quarry had indeed surrendered, she started bringing him in.

"We've got the best fish here in Summer," her grandfather said. "Both fresh and saltwater. Taste even better when you catch 'em yourself."

"I bet," Annie said.

With a little help from her grandfather, she hauled her catch out of the water. It was huge. At least two feet long. Its scales were dark and shiny.

To her, it was hideous. But her grandfather seemed impressed, and that made her smile.

"Bet that's at least forty pounds," he said, holding her line up. The thing was trashing about, trying to breathe the merciless oxygen. "Been calling these king bass," he added. "Not a species you'd ever find in the mortal world, of course, but they look like overgrown largemouth bass." He pointed at the mouth with a pinky. "See what I mean?"

Annie nodded, though she hadn't a clue what largemouth bass looked like.