Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 04

Yvette sighed. "Not with that."

"I know." He ran his hands through his hair. His gloriously thick, dark hair.

He wasn't quite as handsome as Lance, but he was handsome. There was a certain boy next door quality to him, though that description didn't quite do him justice. Not with that incredible body he had. What was wrong with her? She could be happy with him. Happy enough, anyway. She didn't need the excitement, the danger, that Lance offered. She really didn't. No matter what Bad Yvette said or how often she said it.

"It's just...that's not something I hear every day."

Yvette covered her face with her hands. "I know. I'm sorry."

"This is all a bit of a shock," Zach continued. "You, him, Lena. This fucking palace. What happened back at the cabin. Everything." He blew out his breath exasperatedly. "I don't know if I can handle it. My mind was blown to smithereens a while ago, to be honest, and I'm not sure I've quite started to put the pieces back together."

"Yeah," Yvette said. "That about sums it up."

Though he left out the whole epic-battle-between-good-and-evil-raging-inside-you thing. Good to know she was the only one experiencing that. Nice and reassuring.

"On a different note," he said, with a tone that implied he intend to let that lead-in hang in the air for a while. Indeed, a few awkward seconds stretched past before he deigned to complete the thought. "You look good. I mean, not that you didn't before. But this?" He dragged his finger up and down through the air, gesturing vaguely at her body. "I approve."

Yvette looked down at the body she'd forgotten was only covered by the sheer black cami and a pair of panties she'd created after her father left. The top didn't even hide her nipples, let alone the thick piercings decorating them. At least her underwear were more opaque. Her brother might not be able to tell that her clit was pierced too. Somehow, she didn't think he'd react to that quite the way their father had.

Blushing, she said, "I look different?"

Zach shrugged. "Didn't, um, get a great look before. Guess I could be wrong."

"No," she said, studying herself closely. "You're right." For better or worse, she still had the same basic body shape. Perhaps even more topheavy. She hadn't turned into their incredibly perfect mother or anything. But her stomach was flatter than it had ever been, even though she was hunched over and sitting down. And thighs she'd always considered too thick were now slimmer and completely free of dimpling or cellulite. She was looking at a very familiar figure, yes, but definitely the best possible version thereof. And she...didn't hate it. "I don't remember doing that. But, then, I haven't felt entirely in control of my own decision-making for...well, quite a while. So who knows."

"Since this all began?"

"Before, honestly."

He frowned at that. She thought that might take the conversation down a path she'd rather not follow, but all he said was, "I noticed a few changes myself, but nothing dramatic."

"Such as?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Their father was huge, especially in wolfman form. Too big, really, though she figured every girl ought to experience that once. Something told her Zach would be just right though.

Her brother blushed. "Well, yeah, that." He looked away awkwardly, as uncomfortable talking about his penis as a shy seventeen year old. "But I meant more the stretch marks I no longer have from when I first started lifting, or the way my body hair's still thick in some places but has magically groomed itself elsewhere. I never invested much effort in manscaping, but you wouldn't know it now." He rubbed at his tricep, pushing the sleeve of his black T-shirt up in the process to reveal a smooth upper arm. "Mom says the bodies we wore before were illusions we didn't even know we'd adopted. To help us fit in over there. In `the Lodge' or whatever we're supposed to call it."

"No need for air quotes," Yvette said. "I know what you mean."

Zach shrugged. "Just sounds weird. Still not sure I believe this world's any more real than that one, though I guess there's no reason to be so skeptical."

"You and Mom did some talking then, did you?"

"Well. Not too much," he admitted.

Yvette smiled. She wasn't sure why. Part of her was really jealous. But another part of her couldn't help thinking he was really cute when he got nervous like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd met a guy her age who was so shy about sex.

"It's all a bit hard to resist, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Even though we know we should," she added, retreating a little further into her bed and hoping he'd take the hint to join her atop the mattress.

He did. Though he didn't sit too close, let alone try to familiarize himself with her new and improved figure. Didn't even make a move to rid himself of all the excess clothing he was encumbered by. Heck, he barely even made eye contact with her. She could almost think he was more captivated by the view outside her tower than he was with her.

"I'm not even sure we should, actually," Zach said.

"Oh?" Yvette asked. There was a part of her that was very glad to hear him express such a sentiment. But none that wasn't surprised. "Why's that?"

Her brother shrugged. "Sounds like the queen has no use for anyone with any sort of conscience," he said, almost casually. "Either we become monsters or they kill us. Might as well throw ourselves out that window. At least it would be painless."

"You think so?"

"Moment we hit bottom, wherever that is, we'd-"

"No, I mean, you really think there's no hope if we don't become like them?"

Her father had said as much. And it had certainly sounded like he'd meant it. But somehow, she couldn't quite believe it. There had to be another way. She'd tried so hard for so long to keep Bad Yvette at bay. Could she really be better off giving it? Letting herself become all that was wrong and shameful and frightening? There was something incredibly surreal about listening to Zach, the closest thing to a normal person that could apparently be found in their fucked-up family, counseling her to do so.

"I don't know." His eyes finally left the see-through walls and turned to her. "I hope I'm wrong. But Lena made it sound like we'd be the ones lying in a pool of our own blood if we hadn't done...what we did...back there in the cabin. And I think I believe her."

Again with the "we" stuff. She appreciated it, but he did know that his hands were relatively clean, didn't he? He'd done nothing to stop her, and he'd left Curt in pretty bad shape before suffering an attack of conscience, but still.

"We'll just have to be very convincing, then, won't we?" Yvette said.

Zach gave her a faint smile. Which was probably all the flippant comment deserved.

They were in serious trouble. Nothing indicated that their parents were gullible, and they had to assume the queen was even more savvy. There was only one surefire way to convince Winter that their hearts were every bit as frozen as they were supposed to be.

But with her brother there, looking at her with those beautiful blue eyes, so unlike their father's despite their hue, she felt sure everything would be okay. Because it just would be.

"If I creep too close to the edge of the precipice, you'll pull me back, won't you?" Yvette asked, crawling towards Zach on all fours as she did. "And if you start to dig your feet in at the wrong moment, I'll pull you along so they don't get too suspicious."

He grunted. But when she started fumbling with his jeans, he did nothing to stop her. Even though she knew he wanted to. He might have recently added "motherfucker" to his list of accomplishments, but things were still moving too fast for him. He was willing to let his little sister set the pace though. As she knew he would be. As she needed him to be.

"We'll take care of each other," she said as she pulled his magnificent cock out into the open. It was big, really big, but not quite too big. And it was so hard, for her, that she could feel it throbbing in her palm. "Let me show you."

The moan he let out as she engulfed him was to die for.

Lena might be talented. Okay, she definitely was. Yvette had seen enough to know that. But she was no neophyte herself. And her brother was about to find out what a woman with both supernatural abilities and a pierced tongue could do.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighed, stroking her hair affectionately. "I don't know how long I can-"

Not long at all, evidently. But that was okay. She was just getting started. And it turned out that he tasted even better than their father. Sweeter, which came as no surprise. There was a slight trace of peppermint in his cream that she found absolutely delightful.

"You don't have to," Zach began. As she resumed her merciless blowjob, he gasped and jerked up straight. "Um, okay. Yeah. Just keep doing that."

That attitude was exactly why Yvette was sure everything would work out.

#

Cold blue flames suddenly danced atop the torch sconces on either side of his room, heralding Lady Winter's imminent arrival. Cahill's heart started beating faster, though whether from excitement or dread he wasn't quite sure. Her visits were always the highlight of his day, but so too were they a source of crippling guilt and unending torment.

He'd expected her to be just like Titania only worse. His days should have been filled with indescribable suffering, excessive bleeding, broken bones, and the occasional bout of dismemberment. But no. Daphne was more devious than that. She'd yet to inflict any real pain. Instead, she chose to torture him by visiting the greatest of pleasures upon him. Forcing him to hate himself for enjoying her cold embrace and thereby betraying his mother.

Bad as all that was, and it was bad, the worst part was knowing that she'd inevitably turn things around. That the horrible things he'd expected off the bat would arrive eventually, and that she'd prove far more creative than Titania when they did. And that very knowledge caused him to savor her seduction all the more. And thus hate himself all the more.

Dark smoke seeped through the bars of his cell. As it did, the room grew colder and colder, until Cahill's lips quivered and needles stabbed his fingers. Puffs of breath appeared before his eyes and his thick fur blankets ceased functioning any better than tissue paper.

"How are we feeling today?" Lady Winter asked after solidifying.

As ever, she wore black, black, and more black. Silk gloves, leather boots, and a satin dress lined with dark fur. A few sparkling diamonds offered a bit of contrast, today in the form of a belt wrapped about her ridiculously tiny waist, but there was of course not even a spot of color anywhere below her neck. Or, Cahill suspected, in her entire wardrobe.

As in so many other ways, that made her the polar opposite of Titania. Where the Queen of Faerie was painfully direct and utterly incapable of resisting any of her impulses, Lady Winter was mysterious. There was no telling when she'd breathe life into one's worst fears. Only that she would, in time. Her patience was legendary and her temper nonexistent. There was no hope of forcing an error by getting under her skin, as one could with Titania. Nothing to do but wait for the axe to drop.

Her one concession to chromatism was her lips. They were dark blue, as they always were here in Winter. When visiting foreign lands, where the significance of that color was not understood, she favored bright red. But here, she and her favored daughters all wore blue. That was how one knew who to fear. Her kin all had black hair, unlike most of Winter's blonde denizens, but when one saw a raven mane paired with red or pink lips, one did not tremble. Only when one saw a mouth as cold as the eyes did one's blood cool.

That, and her intense eyes. His own irises were a far lighter blue. AS were Teagan's and those of countless other fey. His sister's, a deep blue that bordered on violet, were nearly as common in Faerie. But next to Daphne's, those too seemed almost colorless. Nearly black. Where he came from, no one had eyes as vibrant as Daphne's.

"Hmm?"

Her voice too was unlike any he'd heard. It wasn't remotely masculine, but it was far deeper than that of any other woman. Even Fiona's sounded high-pitched in comparison. When she spoke, he pictured glaciers rumbling as the ice cracked. He heard cold wind howling in the night and felt its bitter kiss deep in his bones.

"Peachy," Cahill replied.

Those dark lips shifted slowly into a mocking smile. "That reminds me. I haven't been giving you enough food. And no fruit! You must be so tired of stew by now."

Cahill grunted by way of response.

He was tempted to say that he would indeed enjoy some fruit. Strawberries, to remind him of his mother. And maybe some new flowers. Ones that weren't blue. If he was feeling really bold, he might even request a musical instrument or two so that he might fill his cell with the sound of Faerie. But he knew better. For now, she was playing nice. And her visits could be very nice indeed. But she'd only carry the act so far. None of those things would feed her Libido, after all. Besides, the way he ached for her, desperately waiting for her to appear, brought shame. Reminders of home might do the same, in some small way, but they'd also genuinely lift his spirits. At least a little. And that, she couldn't have.

That she'd explained all this to him did nothing to blunt the knife's edge. He knew what game she was playing, but he didn't know when it would end. And that was more than enough uncertainty to slowly drive him mad. To make him hate sleep, knowing that each night brought him a little bit closer to the point where dream became nightmare.

"Myself, I'm having a fabulous day," she said. "One of my daughters has just brought two of my children home. I haven't met them yet, but I can't tell you how excited I am."

"Well don't let me keep you," Cahill said.

She snickered, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of her hand. As he'd hoped she would. Damn it. He hated that he couldn't bear to see her go so soon, but he couldn't.

For the billionth time since arriving in Winter just a few days ago, Cahill wished he could access his Libido. He didn't know how Daphne had done it, but somehow she'd frozen the pool inside him. The energy was still there, and when she climbed into bed with him, it would thaw. Just enough for her to take some of it away from him. But when she was gone, he was as helpless as a newborn. Powerless as a mortal. Yet cursed with the memory of what he should be able to do. How easy it ought to be for him to escape.

"Don't be silly," she said, as she crawled on top of the bed.

It would be a stretch to say the room warmed. But the biting cold retreated. His blankets felt warm again. And his naked flesh no longer feared the open air anyway. When Daphne pulled the fur back, she found him standing at full attention.

"Mmm. That's what I've been missing."

He wanted to beg her not to say such things. To tell her that it was fine to keep him prisoner and take away his power and make him fear the passing of time, but he couldn't bear her mockery. Only he knew how ridiculous that would sound. That didn't stop him from thinking it, but there was no way he'd give voice to such nonsense.

Cold fingers wrapped around his cock, sapping precious warmth. They were so soft, though. And capable. He belonged in her hands.

"Please," he whimpered.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I need it."

The words tasted of ash and filth and shame. But he couldn't stop them from spilling out. Those full lips of hers were so close now. He feared their touch. Yet never had needed anything so desperately.

She smiled and he died. But only a little.

Tears welled in his eyes. He would cum in her surprisingly warm mouth moments after her painfully cold lips enveloped him. The ecstasy would not last. But he still craved it. And hated himself for doing so.

Two blocks of ice closed around his member, taking his breath away. Freezing his lungs. Pleasure such as he'd never known filled him a moment later, banishing all memory of the jarring cold. And of warm spring. Of music and laughter, children and family. Even his mother, whose name he no longer knew. He tried picturing her face but saw only Daphne's.

Cahill hated her, with all his being.

But he loved her even more.