Homelands Pt. 07 Ch. 06

"Ung, fuck," Cahill grunted as he gradually picked up the pace.

It took a great act of will to keep from cumming. He wanted to fill her with his seed again. And again. But not yet. He needed to enjoy himself for a while first. Needed to see her beautiful ass dance for him. Needed to watch the muscles of her back clench and relax as he slammed into her over and over again.

"Ooh," his mother exclaimed after he followed yet another slow thrust with one delivered at maximum force. "Yes, that's it, baby. Give it to me good."

And so they transitioned from slow, sensual love-making to something more kinetic. More primal. They remained in the lazy doggy position, but Cahill turned into a jackhammer. He slammed into her a hundred times, nay a thousand, times a minute, his smooth cock generating insane amounts of friction against her tight pussy.

Her sighs gave way to whimpers and then loud cries. But not of pain or protest. Whatever he had to offer, she was glad to receive. No other man would be permitted to assault her little lady like that, Cahill knew. But for him, her favorite son, there was nothing she wouldn't give. Just as there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

The pleasure soon grew overwhelming. Cahill had never felt anything quite like it. All the pleasures his mother had given him before paled in comparison to the pure ecstasy her body visited upon his in that moment.

And so, not long after his mother had almost involuntarily cleaned up his last oversized load, Cahill filled her to overflowing once again.

He didn't know where it all came from. Were it any other woman beneath him, his body would have refused to cooperate. But he just couldn't stop fucking his mother and pouring his hot cum into the first womb he'd ever known. His poor, overworked balls served up buckets and buckets of spunk by way of offering to his red goddess.

At some point, he'd apparently rolled off her and onto his back. Cahill didn't quite remember doing so, but after flooding his system with so much ecstasy, it was a small wonder that he was having trouble maintaining a firm grip on reality. All he knew was that one moment he'd been staring down at the beautiful twin globes of his mother's majestic ass while shooting an unwholesome amount of jizz into her hot cunt, and the next he was flat on his back, sucking air. He felt as though he'd just run a marathon, holding his breath the entire way. He felt good, but enfeebled as well. Almost paralyzed.

Perhaps, then, that should have been their last go. At least for a little while.

But of course it was not.

Cahill had scarcely recovered his breath by the time his mother straddled his hips, took the full length of his huge cock inside her, and guided his hands to her huge breasts. Her big, brown eyes locked onto his silently. There was no request there. Her body needed his, and she took for granted that he would provide for her.

As indeed he would. Quite willingly.

Cahill simply smiled up at his beautiful mother, glad to offer her still more of himself. His body protested at first, but it didn't take long before it changed its mind.

He stared up in awe at the divine beauty using his for her pleasure. She had the most incredible figure, a face so gorgeous that lesser men would weep at the mere sight of it, and a long mane of the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen. It was not possible for a man to desire a woman more strongly than Cahill did his mother. Nor, he knew, for a woman to be more attracted to a man than Caronwyn was to her son. Their passion threatened to set the forest on fire. To burn all of Faerie to the ground.

#

"Sorry, that seat's taken," her brother said.

"Whoever she is, you can do better, yeah?" Liadan replied.

Arawn finally peeled his eyes away from the telly. The way sporting events enchanted men, even the nonsense ones that got Yanks all worked up, you'd think there was glamour involved. "Well, well, well," he said, realizing who it was that was taking the stool beside him. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Not sure `fancy' is the word," Liadan observed.

As dive bars went, the place was a shitstorm. The mirrors were dirty and cracked, the floor was sticky, and just about every piece of furniture was in need of repair. The drinks were served in plastic cups, but that was probably a blessing, since it didn't seem like the type of establishment that would be fastidious about keeping its glassware clean. Nonetheless, she wasn't about to order a drink. Not even with her fey constitution.

But there was a good crowd. And the right sort too. A couple dozen twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings of the sort who spend all their time drinking coffee and working on paintings that would never appear in any art show, writing screenplays that would never be read, or practicing music they'd never perform before an audience of more than two or three. Young men and women with a passion for the arts, if no actual talent of their own. When her brother took the stage after the pop-folk-punk band that was up there now, he'd be in for a treat. They'd open their souls right up to him. That they'd be bedridden for days afterwards wouldn't matter. Not this lot. For a chance to hear the true music, to touch the world of Faerie if only for a brief time and from far away, they'd gladly give up that and more. She probably couldn't even blame them.

It was, in short, exactly the kind of place she expected to find her brother in.

There'd been a time that he'd preferred to surround himself with the strong and the confident, not the weak and vulnerable. But ever since Oberon had awakened from the Dreaming, Arawn wasn't the same lad.

For that matter, he'd changed just since the last time she'd seen him.

He must have been spending almost all his time in joints like this. Harvesting energy night after night, growing every stronger.

Her brother had never been an unattractive man. Even in the past, if given her pick of the Dreamsmyth litter, Liadan would have chosen Arawn over all of the others in a heartbeat. She found their mother's obsession with Oberon no less bewildering than Arawn himself must have. But perhaps she and the queen simply had different taste in men. Liadan had never been interested in dating blokes who were prettier than she was, or whose waists were approximately the same size, or whose hair was a good deal longer.

That Arawn looked better than Oberon, to say nothing of Kearney, Uillym, and Quinn, was nothing new. But the stud sitting beside her made the older brother she'd long had a crush on look boring and ordinary. His once handsome face was now almost painful to look upon, it awakened such deep desire in her.

Men shouldn't be allowed to look that good. How was she to do what she came here to accomplish, if all she could think about was how badly she wanted him inside her? How good it would feel to run her fingers through that salt and pepper hair while they snogged? How nice it would be to bury her face in his chest, feeling the coarse hair brush lightly against her skin? She wondered how much bigger his dick must be now that he'd grown in power as much as he evidently had. However else their bodies changed, or didn't, the men of their kind always experienced a little male enhancement as they got stronger. Her mother had told her about that, before she'd seen it for herself with Oberon.

Thankfully, Arawn still had narrower shoulders than she liked. He was still absurdly hot, but if he had broad shoulders, she'd had a hard time putting sentences together. When her mouth opened, no words would even come out. Except, perhaps, "Fuck me."

Liadan drew a deep breath. Her mother hadn't warned her that it wouldn't get easier. She'd left the Dreaming years ago. Yet even so, the men of Faerie had the power to make her feel like she was in boarding school again, all tingly and flushed and dizzy. Not all of them, perhaps, but that any of them could didn't seem right.

"You okay?" Arawn asked, giving her a sly smile.

"Fine," she said. "This smoke don't bother ye?"

"The smoke," he said. "Not, really, no."

Liadan cleared her throat and preoccupied herself with wiping away the imaginary soot despoiling her black tank top. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the fairly transparent gesture succeeded in drawing her brother's attention to her breasts. They were a bit big for his tastes, if she had to guess. He was all about their mother and Macha. Skinny little blondes with breasts too big for their bodies but still not particularly large in an absolute sense. He wasn't immune to Liadan's charms, though. She felt his Libido stirring and imagined to herself that other parts of him might be as well.

Perhaps she should try to get him to dance with her. If there was one thing she knew he appreciated about her, it was her arse. And she knew how to work it too. How the hell a girl was supposed to dance to this tripe, she hadn't a clue, but she'd figure something out.

"So. To what do I owe the pleasure?" her brother asked.

It was then that his drinking companion returned from the loo. She was, of course, thin and blonde, with breasts that would have looked small on Liadan's frame but seemed oversized compared to her narrow hips. She had a blue streak in her hair that must have reminded her brother faintly of their mother.

Liadan gave the mortal woman a flat look and then handed her the bag that she'd left on the bar. The blonde looked to Arawn for an explanation and got only a shrug in response. She huffed in disgust and then stormed off.

"Now imagine if she knew I was your sister," Liadan said.

Arawn smirked. He looked old enough to be her father. To say nothing of the difference in complexion. But that didn't even matter. Squeamish as mortals were about incest, if the two of them had looked like twins, no one would assume that they were related. Not so long as they were looking at each other the way they were.

"Anyway, in answer to your question, I've come to claim me boon."

"And what did you have in mind?"

Liadan stared up at the stage, if only to avoid staring into her brother's beautiful green eyes. The trio of amateur musicians weren't quite awful, by mortal standards, but it was still painful to hear. And even more painful to watch. Still, better that than give herself a reminder of how badly she wanted her brother.

"I was thinking ye should send Cahill and Caronwyn back here. To the Dreaming."

"And why, exactly, should I do that?" her brother asked.

"Because I asked you to," Liadan replied. She batted her long eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. Men always fell for that.

Most men. Arawn was not moved.

"Oh, what do you care why anyway?" she asked, switching to another tactic. Heat she didn't feel tempered her voice. "You owe me a boon. I've made me request. It's nothin' that'd require you to risk life or limb. End of story, yeah?"

Arawn shrugged. He was no more fazed by that approach than the first one. "Was just curious what the reason was."

"I'm the Puck, remember? I don't need reasons."

True enough, so far as it went. But it didn't surprise her in the least that her brother's incredulous look remained. There were plenty of ways to sow mischief. She'd chosen a very particular one. One that would require him to violate one of their mother's strictest orders. He'd not be putting himself at risk of bodily harm in so doing, but he certainly wouldn't come any closer to finding himself in their mother's good graces.

"Okay. So I'm going to let a couple Walkers back into the Dreaming. Because it will amuse my sister."

"No, because you owe me a boon," she said. "Though, aye, it will amuse me," she added, grinning. "Anyway, you're not going to let them, but send them. With their memories of removed, of course. They'll think they're just an ordinary mortal couple, yeah? You can do that, can't you? You're still the Lord of Remembrance?"

"I'm well aware of our titles," Arawn said. "No need to keep reminding me." He drew a deep breath. "So. It's to be as a couple, is it?"

"Naturally," she said. Then she added, "As to being reminded of who we are, well, ask a couple o' unnecessary questions, ye might get some unnecessary answers."

Arawn rolled his eyes. "Fine." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and in spite of herself, Liadan felt a shiver run down her spin. "I'll send Caron and her precious Cahill back. I'm not sure what you expect that to accomplish though."

"Oh, but I think you do."

He regarded her quietly for a moment. "Why not just command me to step down as prince? Or ask me to tell Mom about what I did to Kearney?"

That gave Liadan a twinge of guilt. Of all her brothers, Kearney was perhaps the only one she didn't consider a competitor. He had no political aspirations, and had never been anything but kind to her. To any of them, in fact. Why then didn't she use her boon to force Arawn to restore their brother's memories?

Because she wasn't attracted to him?

It hurt to admit, but she feared that might be the truth. She hadn't even thought about her poor brother, wandering the Dreaming without knowing who he was, even as she was preparing to ask her brother to inflict the same fate upon two others. If he'd been more her type, though, she'd have been less inclined to forget all about him.

Still, she could do no better than to have him put Cahill and Caronwyn back to sleep. Not only would their mother be outraged that members of Clan Walker had reentered the Dreaming, no matter the circumstances under which they'd done so, but the two of them would grow closer together. If they weren't already in love with one another, they certainly would be by the time they remembered who they were. As they surely would, in time. And that would create even more trouble for Arawn, sooner or later.

Sure, she could simply ask him to step down. But where was the fun in that?

The smile that spread across her face just then could only be described as mischievous.

She hadn't expected to at first, but she found she was growing into the role her mother had assigned her. More and more each day.

"I should be cursing your name right now, shouldn't I?" her brother asked, to which Liadan replied with a nod. "And yet...," he added, pulling her a little closer.

The realization that she was going to get to have her cake and eat it too filled Liadan with joy. The important point was that he hadn't bothered trying to find a loophole, which he probably could have if he'd tried hard enough. That she was going to get to spend the rest of the night fucking her insanely hot brother, who'd only gotten hotter of late, was a very welcome cherry on top.

"You don't expect me to sit here and watch you perform like some groupie before you take me home for a proper fucking, do ya?" she asked. "Cause if that's the case, I'll be on me way," she said, knowing full well that there'd be no need for that.

That drew a frown from Arawn, but he was already standing up. "You just robbed these people of an experience they'd never forget, you know."

"Oh, I know," Liadan said, slipping off her own stool. "You may recall I was the one who delivered the means of creating such experiences to you."

"I haven't forgotten," he said dryly.

"Of course you haven't," she said, patting his scruffy cheek. "My Lord."

"Maybe one day you'll tell me why," he said, sounding as though he in fact had absolutely no expectation that she would.

"I already have," she replied with a grin most befitting one of her monikers.