Homelands Pt. 09 Ch. 01

Cahill didn't like the sound of that at all, but he held his tongue. The brown eyes looking up at him were so vulnerable. Perhaps even fearful. That was why she hadn't told him. She'd been afraid that he'd get angry. If not at her, at his brother.

He drew a deep breath. "It's okay," he said, kissing her lips as softly as a man could.

"Yeah?"

Cahill nodded.

She gave him a kiss of her own. It was rather more passionate. After a lifetime, or maybe just a minute, she pulled away and said breathlessly, "He was never pushy. He'd ask, I'd say no, and he'd get a sad puppy dog look in his face that would disappear a moment later. Then he'd bring me to a screaming orgasm and we'd both forget all about it."

Was she testing the limits of his acceptance now? His teeth gritted but he said nothing. For every climax his brother had given her, Fi had given one to him. There was also Reilly, to say nothing of Seamus and Finnegan, but he was no stranger to Brittany or Aeife. Granted, he never told her how great his other lovers were, but still. No sense going down that road.

"He asked my mother too," Caronwyn continued. "Not as often, and that bothers her more than she likes to admit," she added, with a hint of self-satisfaction. "Anyway, we figured that was it. That Oona had always encouraged them to behave like frat boys competing for her attention, but they realized they had to adopt different tactics for their new prey."

He disliked the hunting metaphor. At one time, it would have seen apt. But not now.

"Today, I saw him standing beside a pregnant woman, smiling like he's never smiled his whole life. And that woman wasn't me, or my mother. I couldn't see her face too clearly, but she had blonde hair with all sorts of other colors streaked through it."

Cahill's breath caught.

"And then I saw him playing a silver flute covered with emeralds, of all things," his mother added. "I don't know what it means, but it seemed significant."

Silver, with emeralds? That could only be the flute he'd given his father. Why would his brother have it? How would Titania even get it to him, with their barrier still up?

Then it hit him.

How had he forgotten about their dreams? The glamours protecting the city afforded them some protection even against that sort of invasion, but that wasn't their true purpose. And Queen Titania was not only the most powerful fey who'd ever been, but the head of a clan whose very name alluded to their power over dreams.

But his brother was on patrol. With Reilly. There'd be no sleep for them tonight. Titania wouldn't get another chance to invade their dreams until it was too late. Until he and the others had worked a way to deny her that path of entry as well.

Yes, a better man would have rushed home, if only to recover the flute Gallech might not realize he had. But his mother was sitting right there in front of him, in a crazy sexy outfit. Without any underwear on. He'd cultivated some ability to suppress sexual desire since having children, but it had limits.

"What's it mean?" Caronwyn asked.

"We'll worry about that later," he said, pushing her flat onto her back.

"Oh, okay," she said, giggling. "That works."

It didn't take long to bring her back to the brink. He knew his mother's body better than his own. Knew what she liked, what she loved, and what made her go crazy.

"Unnngh, mmph, oh fuuuuck!" she howled as an intense orgasm overtook her.

Cahill waited for her to start to come down from her high then launched another assault. He just couldn't get enough of her beautiful pussy. This time, though, he conjured up a few extra hands so he could explore the rest of her body while he made love to her. He groped at her breasts through her corset, caressed her soft thighs and broad hips, and did his best to feel up her calves despite the thick leather of her boots. He held her hands in his, delighting in the pressure he felt when she squeezed as hard as she could.

Her second orgasm was silent. He threw his mother too deep into the ocean of ecstasy for her to make a sound. Her eyes rolled back inside her head and her body convulsed, legs twitching erratically and arms flopping about like fish out of water. Meanwhile, the floodgates of her Libido opened and a tidal wave of energy crashed into him.

It was almost more than he could bear, as was ever the case when she truly opened up.

His mother had grown stronger and stronger with each purebred child, to the point that she'd eclipsed her mother. For all he knew, she now rivaled Titania. He'd done his best to keep up, but his best was barely enough to let him survive moments like this.

"Sweetie," she said breathily after recovering. "You are too good."

Cupping his face in her hands, she rained kisses on him. Each one set his skin to tingling, no matter that they were fleeting. He laughed and gave her a few kisses back.

Then he sat back in the chair, pulled her into his lap, and buried as much of his cock inside her as he could. The sounds she made as he disappeared inside her nearly brought him to climax. His mother's desire for him was every bit as strong as his was for her, and that itself was as intoxicating as anything they did together as a result of those desires.

"I couldn't live without you," he said. "You give my life meaning."

"Don't say that," she said, kissing his neck.

"I'm serious," he said, raising her up only to pull her back onto his spear again.

She grunted as she accepted his offering. He felt her insides quiver, and her Libido began to bubble. It wasn't quite boiling yet, but it was heading there quick.

"You're tempting the fates," she said after gathering enough air to speak.

"No such thing," he said.

If Aeife were there, she'd probably contest that claim. Maybe even remind him that the thrice-blessed were thrice-cursed, and that he'd only repaid them for one gift so far. But that whole notion grew harder and harder to take seriously with each passing year. Everything he once thought he knew about Faerie and its people did. He'd come to believe that the only rules that mattered were the ones they believed to be binding.

"Just fuck me, baby. Stop talking like this."

He was only too happy to comply with such a request, though.

Parts of her costume gradually disappeared. In the end, her mismatched stockings, hardly-even-there blouse, and distinctive makeup were all that remained. A body like his mother's just couldn't stay covered up for long. He needed to touch her. To kiss her. To lick and suck, squeeze and tease, every perfect part of her.

With their flames burning so hot, they didn't last long. On some level, it felt like they were taking things slow. Too slow, even. Like he was resisting, with very great difficulty, the urge to take everything at once. But in the back of his mind, he knew that they were going at it fast and furious. After Cahill shot his fourth load into his mother's hot box, he pulled out and slowly rose to his feet. She got up off all fours and did the same, sweeping sweaty black and red hair back from her white face. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed that they'd been in there for less than fifteen minutes.

"Wow," she said, laughing. "Guess you're enjoying this, huh?"

Cahill grabbed her, pulled her against him, and pressed his lips hard against hers.

"I'll take that for a yes," his mother said with a grin as she pulled away. She snapped her fingers, fixing her makeup and restoring her costume. "From the top?" she asked.

He nodded. But didn't put the rest of his costume back on. All that remained was the mask, and it was going to stay that way.

She pressed a gloved hand to his bare chest and dragged it slowly down his sternum and over his abs. "For the record, I like you better without all this extra muscle."

"But?" he asked, hearing the unvoiced follow-up.

A sly smile spread across her lips. "Variety's nice."

Cahill laughed and then kissed her. Playfully, at first, but it grew more and more passionate the longer their lips remained locked. His hands got a little adventurous, giving her full breasts and soft ass the attention they deserved. By the time he let up, he had her up on the table again and his cock back inside her welcoming hole.

"Mmm, baby, that's where you belong," his mother moaned. She raked her nails down his neck, across his shoulders. "I don't know why I let other women lay hands on you."

They gave each other hollow smiles. They both knew the answer. Their kind didn't do well with monogamy. Playing favorites came naturally, but if he went too long without making love to Fiona, his Libido would start to itch. The same went for Brittany and Aeife, he supposed, though not to the same degree. His mother would find it no easier to keep her hands off her other sons or nephews. Besides, sharing their bodies strengthened the clan.

But it was nice to play these little games. Pretend no one else meant anything to them.

"Would you like to hear me talk like Harley again?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. If not for her little comment about his physique, he'd have turned the offer down. But he liked the reaction he got when he said, "Variety, right?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. Then pulled him in deeper and whispered in his ear, "Mister Jay's the only one who knows how to make me O. Think you can do betta, B-man?"

He did. And he did. Several times.

"Think maybe it's time we help the others recover their memories?" his mother asked some time later, lying naked on the table.

He didn't, but neither did he argue.

Though his sisters were no substitute for their mother, he couldn't deny having a bit of fun with the two of them and their outfits. Despite the fact Caronwyn was in the cell across from them, having just as much fun with Seamus and Finnegan.

#

"Hey there, little doggie," the older man walking down the road towards Teagan said, bending down to pet the three-dimensional cartoon character she used for a hound. Sniffer was patterned after Cooper, in his puppy stage, from The Fox and the Hound. "Are you one of them fairy girls?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Sir, you've go to get out of here," she said as she pulled on Sniffer's leash. "The Wild Hunt is on, and there's worse than me out there."

"Really?" he asked with something of a chuckle. "You?" He looked down at Sniffer again, who despite Teagan's best efforts was still rubbing his forehead against the man's leg, tail thumping enthusiastically. "And this little guy?" His chuckle became a full-throated laugh. "He's so adorable! Looks like he stepped out of a Disney movie!"

He sort of had. And he was adorable. Sniffer was about as capable of harming the man as was a ray of sunshine or a light breeze. But her sisters were out in force, and so were the other women of the fey. All except those of Clan Walker, as her mother had yet to break through to Savannah. None of the others would be so polite. Her sisters, like so many of the others, took pleasure in carrying out their duties. And those who didn't dared not defy Queen Titania. Only Teagan, who had the distinct advantage of having the queen's own blood flowing through her veins, made a mockery of the Wild Hunt.

"Please," she begged him. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

He looked at her in disbelief.

It probably didn't help that she wore her regular fey form, that of a pixie, rather than some dread visage. The others had all adopted darker, more nightmarish forms for the Hunt. The cable news networks favored images of her mother astride a black unicorn, skin deep blue and hair white as snow, dressed in plate mail and wielding a Gaesum spear. Either her, or Liadan in the form of a centaur, carrying an axe in one hand and a sword in the other. Sometimes, they showed a blurry video clip someone had presumably captured on their cell phone of a black horse with a fiery mane and flaming hooves. That too was Liadan, though the news people didn't know it. They called that visage of her aunt the Nightmare Beast.

Who would fear a Tinker Bell lookalike when they'd been led to associate the Hunt with such images? When her face was so recognizable from movies and magazine covers? True, she didn't appear in her fey form on screen, but that mostly just meant that people expected her to be taller. Maybe she needed to turn her eyes solid black, her skin blood red, and start carrying some nasty weapons. Or at least stop wearing a hot pink smock. Then she wouldn't have to plead with people to get them to run away from her.

But it would sort of defeat the purpose. She was no more interested in terrifying them than hurting them. Why couldn't they just listen?

"The others," Teagan said, "won't stop to talk. And their hounds aren't so cute."

Sniffer tried climbing the man's leg, front paws seeking purchase above knee but finding none. He panted frantically, his long tongue lolling out his mouth.

"You...you're Teagan Dreamsyth," he said. "The Teagan Dreamsmyth."

She sighed. "I am. And I'm trying to help you, though you don't seem to be interested in that." She gave Sniffer's leash another ineffectual tug. All she accomplished was pulling him back a few feet for a few moments. He ran right back to the old man the moment his leash went slack again. "You need to get gone. Like, ten minutes ago."

"My granddaughter is a huge fan," he said. "Or she used to be," he added, looking uncertain. Then he actually started counting on his hands, as if trying to remember the little girl's age! "She's not going to believe I met you," he said, giving up.

Teagan closed her eyes and counted to three. When she spoke again, her voice was as stern as a pixie's could be. "You're not going to get a chance to tell her if you don't find yourself somewhere safe."

Sniffer started yipping at the man.

He planted a palm on the puppy's head and gave a good rub. That silenced Sniffer perfectly. "I thought the Hunt doesn't even begin until-"

She didn't let him finish. She knew what he was going to say. He thought it started at sundown and lasted until sunup. All the mortals thought the same thing.

Someone must have proclaimed themselves an expert, despite any relevant expertise, just to get their face on TV. Once there, they'd spouted some nonsense that sounded like it should be true. Mortals just couldn't wrap their heads around the idea of something terrible not being coterminous with night. By the third week, she'd have thought that someone would have noticed that the Hunt consisted of three hour intervals straddling sunrise and sunup. That it took place during the periods of betweenness, as anyone who understood the fey would know that it must. That it included some daylight hours. But no.

"The media's got that wrong," she said firmly. "That, and a lot else."

"Oh," he said. "Oh."

She shooed him away, as she would a fly. "Go. Find shelter."

At long last, he took heed. Sort of, anyway. In no great hurry, he turned around and walked back the way he'd came. But at least he went. And hadn't asked for an autograph.

"That was poorly done," a voice said from beside her.

Her brother dropped his camouflage, popping into view. He'd been standing right there in the street, leaning against a parked car.

Teagan's throat went tight.

Why did he have to be the one to find her? Why couldn't it be her father? Or at least her uncle Uillym? Or anyone but her brother?

Teagan's older brother had never paid much attention to her, and she'd been all too thankful for that. In her shoes, other fey girls would have bemoaned his neglect, she knew. He was, after all, easy on the eyes. Okay, more than that. He was, she had to admit, freaking hot. Perhaps a smidge too muscular for her tastes, but hot. He had broad shoulders and a slender waist that gave his upper body a beautiful V shape. His abs were perfecter than perfect. And, seeing as he looked more than a little like her, to find his face unattractive was basically to declare herself unattractive too. The problem wasn't his looks, though. It was more just...him. The way he treated her when he did deign to take notice of her. The way he treated their mother, though she seemed to enjoy that for some reason.

Even in his other forms, he sometimes scared her. When Teagan looked at her brother's face, his true face, she didn't seem a more masculine version of her own. She saw stone with a few chips of ice in its eye sockets. She saw cold indifference that was prone to the occasional flash of hot anger. She saw a penchant for cruelty and a tendency towards hypermasculinity that seemed so out of place in a man that beautiful.

And in this form? He was downright terrifying.

Like their mother and all the others, he'd modified his image for the Wild Hunt. Whereas he normally looked like modern man's image of an elf, he now looked like a drow, or dark elf. His skin was dark gray and melted into shadow so fluidly that it was impossible to say where he began and it ended. He wore purple and black silks over a shirt of chain mail that she knew to be as light and thin as paper but as strong as titanium. His long hair was silvery and luminescent. His eyes, ordinarily blue, had turned purple. They burned like little fires. The two kukris crisscrossed on his back had black handles and glowing purple blades. Only half his face was visible beneath the hood of his cloak.

"Hiya Dunc," she said sweetly.

Sniffer shuffled over towards him, froze, caught a scent of something he didn't like, then ran to hide behind Teagan. He whimpered shrilly as he huddled against her legs.

She couldn't blame him.

Teagan flapped her wings, lifting herself off the asphalt, and flew over to him. Once back on her feet, she laid a hand on his abdomen. She could reach no higher in this form. Batting her lashes at him, she said, "I know. But we don't need to talk about that, do we?"

The thought of coupling with her brother made her want to vomit. At its best, sex with Duncan left her feeling hollow and cheapened. Physically satisfied yet somewhat disgusted with herself. At worst, it was not something she enjoyed, but something she endured.

Still, the rules of the Hunt were clear, and even she could only bend them so far. The women hunted mortals, and the men hunted the women. She could resist, but her brother would only make it worse for her if she did.

To her surprise, though, he took hold of her wrist, removed her hand, and let it drop between them. He only used two fingers to do so, reminding her of how small she was. "You're going to kill, as the queen commanded. And I'm going to watch you do it."

"Awww, c'mon, Dunc," she said, dialing the cute up to ten. She folded her hands behind her back, fretted at her lower lip, and twisted from side to side. "Wouldn't you rather see how I can suck your dick without going to my knees?"

"That's hot, I'll grant you that," he said. "But it's nothing you haven't done before." He ran a few fingers through her hair gently, then suddenly grabbed a fistful and yanked her head back harshly. "And nothing you won't do again after you do as I say."

Tiny needles stabbed her. Tears started to well up in her eyes. "Please," she gasped.

Sniffer bravely abandoned the safety of Teagan's ankles and barked up a storm at Duncan. Until the dark elf glowered at him. Then the poor thing ran off, taking his leash with him.

He let go. The pain quickly diminished. But it didn't retreat entirely.

For the life of her, Teagan would never understand why some women enjoyed having men do that to them.

"They're not even real," he said.

But their pain was. Or near enough.

"Isn't there something I can to do to convince-"

White hot pain filled her. Spots swam in her vision and she tasted blood in her mouth. The tears that had threatened to roll before now burst their dam.