mother-son

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Author’s note



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



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Their disguises and false credentials had been less convincing than they’d hoped. But, nonetheless, getting past the entrance had still been easy.



With a few flicks of her fingers, Veronica had disarmed the guards. Their guns simply slipped out of their hands and went flying across the fenced-in parking lot. Meanwhile, her brother slipped past the guards and into the booth, resumed physical form, and fumbled about for a bit before figuring out how to raise the gate for her.



Even once they’d made their way into the building and found another wave of guards awaiting them, things went more or less according to plan.



Her brother had avoided most of the gunfire by hopping around in shadow form. A few times, Veronica noticed him turning their bullets into dust before they could cover the short distance between him and the barrels of the guns. For her part, Veronica disarmed a few guards before they managed to get a shot off, and generally had little trouble stop the paths of whatever bullets her adversaries succeeded in firing at her.



She did suffer one gunshot wound, but it hadn’t taken Nick but a moment to figure out how to use his powers to heal her. Nor, he claimed, had it taken much energy. She feared that might have been because the bullet had only grazed her, but either way, this was all proving much easier than either of them had feared.



“I could have done that,” she said, looking down at both him and the gash in her leather pants, a faint smile on her lips.



Yes, leather pants.



Once they realized that blending in wasn’t going to work, they’d gone all Neo and Trinity after all. And Veronica didn’t care how cheesy that was.



“I know,” he said, kissing the little patch of exposed flesh.



Veronica ruffled his hair. She should have been pumped up on adrenaline. Or thinking about whether it was worth chancing the elevators or if they’d be better off taking the stairs. But all she could think about was how adorable her brother was.



When they reached the main lobby, though, everything changed.



It didn’t play out anything like the famous lobby scene from the movie, however similar the tiled floor and marble columns made the setting look.



The mortal guards proved little enough of an obstacle, sure. As before, she and her brother did their best to neutralize the threats without hurting anyone. Of course, for all Veronica knew, they were complete assholes. Misogynistic jerks, controlling fathers, and abusive husbands. But they could just as easily have been decent folk. Best to avoid harming them, if possible. And, so far, it had proved easy enough to do so.



Until the Bravos showed up.



She knew who they were the moment they stepped out of the elevator. She knew it by the way they carried themselves. No one else would have waded into a combat zone so calmly, or watch so disinterestedly as the security team emptied clips of ammo at two leather-clad intruders without ever connecting. She also knew it by the way they looked. They had bronze skin and brown hair. Neither was very tall. And they had their father’s facial features, though each was a bit more handsome than the king.



Even without the dark shades, earpieces, and stiff movements, they looked like Agents.



If only they actually had been. They might have been easier to deal with.



One immediately transformed into some nightmarish beast that was part man and part lion. Like the CGI beasts in werewolf movies, only bigger, badder, and with an awesome gold-brown mane. His gaping maw was large enough to swallow a man’s head hole and his massive paws looked fit for use against tanks, particularly since his claws looked sharp enough and strong enough to cut through steel.



The other carried a pair of swords that he handled so skillfully that Veronica would never be able to watch another martial arts movie again. They spun about him in a silver blur, filling the oversized lobby with echoes of the soft whisk of their passage.



Veronica’s knives and axes sank right into the thick hide of the first Bravo. If Liono even noticed the rivers of blood pouring out of the wounds she opened up, he didn’t let it show. He just kept bounding around the room, chasing after Nick’s shadow.



The other one deflected her knives and axes as easily as a professional baseball player might connect with slow balls tossed at him by a high school softball pitcher. His blades moved faster than she could comprehend, and they never missed their mark.



Not. One. Damn. Time.



Veronica was just starting to panic when one of Nick’s shadow scythes sliced an arm off the lion-thing. Unlike the dozen or so knives and axes that she’d sunk into him, that, he noticed. He drew up to his full height, stared down at the stump and the blood pumping out of it, and roared in anger.



Nick approached him in bodily form. Her brother had his hands outstretched, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was about to try to heal him!



What the hell was he thinking?



Yes, they needed to take them alive. But they’d have a much easier time of that if they subdued them first. Did Nick think he could just pluck the proverbial thorn from the lion’s paw and tame the beast?



Before she could say anything, though, the other Bravo slipped up behind Nick and cut his legs out from under him.



Literally.



It took Veronica a moment to realize it had happened. Her brother’s legs were still planted firmly on the ground, gushing blood, when the rest of him fell flat on his back. Nick was apparently too stunned to scream. He just stared at the empty space where his legs should have been, face contorted into a hideous rictus.



Veronica tossed all her remaining weapons at the man who’d crippled her brother. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see them coming and rolled to the side. But a few connected, sinking deep into his left thigh and calf.



Then, to her surprise, the Bravo boys chose to retreat.



The swordsman clambered back to his feet, scurried over to his brother, and dragged him into the elevator. He stared venomously at Veronica as the silvery doors closed.



A small army of men in riot gear poured into the lobby, assault rifles at the ready.



She wanted to scream in rage. It was all happening so fast. They’d failed to take any Bravos hostage. Her brother was bleeding out, his face turning paler and paler. She was out of weapons. And they were surrounded.



She didn’t need steel to get the job done though.



Before the stunned guards could react, Veronica pulled the ceiling down. The second floor collapsed, caving in on them.



The slab of concrete that fell on her nearly knocked Veronica out, even though she’d wrapped herself in a protective bubble and numbed her tactile senses. It wasn’t so easy to climb out from under afterwards, either.



But, with some help from her newfound talent for telekinesis, she did just that. And then set about sorting through the piles of rubble, looking for her brother.



Pained moans broke through here and there, but none of them sounded like Nick. She wasn’t sure how the guards had survived that, and wondered if she maybe owed it to them to put them out of their misery, but she kept on searching. Nick was all that mattered.



Finally, she caught her brother’s voice.



The wreckage came away slowly. Too slowly. A sense of panic built up within her. She’d wasted too much time getting to him as it was. But finally, she dug him out.



His legs looked horrible.



So long as he got through this okay, he should be able to grow them back. But if she didn’t hurry, there’d be no guarantee of that. They were likely to get infected. And he’d lost a lot of blood. She found it hard to breathe as she cauterized the wounds and wrapped them in bandages. The fact that they were stained brick red before she was even finished applying them wasn’t the least bit terrifying.



Once that was done, Veronica got the hell out of there.



With any luck, her grandparents could do more for Nick than she had.



#



“Why is your mother wearing that dress? Does she know how big her ass looks in it?”



Eric smacked Olivia’s arm, and did so about as hard as he would have Nick’s.



“Ow!” His cousin rubbed at the red spots. “What was that for?”



“Whaddaya think it was for?”



“I was just sayin’ that-”



“Well, don’t just say it.”



She frowned. “You’ve really taken to her.”



“Yes. I have,” he said, hopping up onto the rail of the back porch. “By the way, her ass looks great in that dress. Wouldn’t kill you to let yours fill out some either.”



He’d helped his mother into the tight sundress. It clung to her curves like a second layer of skin. And she looked good in it. He’d had a hard time resisting the urge to ignore the ringing doorbell and throw his mother on the bed to have his way with her again.



“Please,” his cousin said, smacking her own ass. “You wish you were still getting a piece of this on the regular.”



“If you say so,” he said.



Her tight little athletic shorts were certainly making the most out of what she had. And for all that he’d just been mocking it a moment before, her little bubble butt was definitely nice. Especially considering how small she was. It looked bigger than it was, attached to so short and slender a woman.



But it still didn’t hold a candle to his mother’s.



There was also the fact that Eric had met prepubescent boys with bigger tits than Olivia. Credit where credit’s due, her backside really didn’t disappoint. But he was finding it harder and harder to believe that he’d once told himself that breasts weren’t all that important.



“Any idea why the grownups wanted to have a private pow-wow?” Liv asked.



Eric rolled his eyes as his cousin lit up a joint. Ordinarily, he had nothing against getting high. But now didn’t seem like the time for it. Long as she didn’t expect him to partake, though, he supposed it was no skin off his nose.



“Not sure,” he said. “Maybe.”



Perhaps his mother had mentioned to Wes that Eric favored a direct attack. And Uncle Wes would have told Aunt Zoey. The two of them would then want to gang up on Gabby.



He probably should have insisted on taking part in the discussion. But his mother had seemed pretty resolved when she’d told him that it would be best if he and his cousin left them alone for a while. So they’d done just that.



“Aaaannnd?”



Eric waved away her offer for him to take a hit. His cousin shrugged and tucked the joint back in between her lips.



Those luscious lips.



He forced himself to look away. He’d finally admitted to himself that he liked his women curvier, that he’d been obsessed with skinny little things because he thought that he was supposed to be. But while he might have come to realize that Olivia didn’t have much of a figure, he couldn’t deny that she was damn fucking beautiful.



And a total demon in the sack.



He drew a deep breath.



“Well, if I had to guess,” he said after he exhaled, “your parents are trying to talk my mother into talking me out of staging a direct attack on His Majesty.”



“Why?”



He sighed. “Because.”



She toked on her joint, held it in for a few moments, then exhaled. “This is all just such fucking bullshit. When can we stop dicking around and get my brother back?”



“I dunno. But we will get him back,” he said, wrapping an arm around Liv.



She started to pull away. But then, with a sigh, Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m worried the goofy little bastard.”



“I know. I’m just as worried about Patty.”



“Doubtful,” she said. “Very doubtful.”



Eric raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you…is he, what, your new favorite?”



“Pssh,” she said. “Don’t be ridic. Besides, we’re not even supposed to have favorites. That’s the whole point. Haven’t you been listening?”



“I know we’re not supposed to.”



“Is your mother your `favorite’ now? Is that what happened to us?” she asked. “Fuck, Eric, are you in love with her?”



Eric’s breath caught.



“No,” he said, almost instinctively.



That was…a dangerous thought.



“Right,” his cousin said, sounding about as convinced as she would have been if he’d denied ever having had sex with a member of his family.



Neither spoke for a few moments.



She wasn’t wrong. He’d been avoiding the subject, even in his own mind. Or, rather, trying to avoid it. Nonetheless, the word had cropped up from time to time, in conversations she’d imagined having with his mother.



Fuck. He didn’t know whether to be terrified by that, or elated. Realizing that you were in love was supposed to be pleasant, wasn’t it? The type of thing that made people break out in fits of giggling?



“Well, anyway,” she continued, “I don’t know that Kurt’s any better in bed than you or my father. But so what? I care about him, hard as that may be to believe. Thinking about how he must be reacting to all this, young and innocent as he is, makes me want to cry.”



Eric took the joint from Olivia and took a long drag after all.



He never thought he’d live to see the day that Liv would say that she wanted to cry over a man, let alone her goofy little brother.



After all the guys she’d run through, most of them the type who’d have given Kurt wedgies in school, she was on the brink of a total breakdown over the lovable little twerp. Not that she shouldn’t have been worried about him, of course, but Eric just hadn’t considered the possibility that it would be eating his cousin up this bad. Hadn’t considered that, despite the way she’d always mercilessly teased him, she’d actually felt protective of him.



It was almost enough to make him forgive the comment she’d made about his mother.



“See?” she asked, sobbing. Tears started to leak out the corners of her eyes. She wiped at them with the hem of her tank top. “Don’t see you shedding any tears over Patty.”



“Just because I’m coping differently doesn’t mean I’m less upset,” he said.



“Of course. `There’s no crying in baseball,”‘ she said.



Eric drew a deep breath. He recognized the quote.



It was from A League of their Own. One of Kurt’s favorite movies.



That kid loved every movie about baseball, no matter how bad they were. Or whether they had both Madonna and Rosie O’Donnell in them. Goofy, serious, cheesy, or poetic. If there was an outfield in it, Kurt had seen it at least twice.



Suddenly, Eric had a picture in his mind of his cousin sitting in her brother’s room, going through a box of tissues, hugging all his stuff against her chest.



Meanwhile, he and his mother had coped with Patty’s absence by fucking each other’s brains out. By trying not to even think about Patty any more than they absolutely had to.



He felt like a total asshole.



Of course, he now knew that his mother had lost a brother and sister when she was even younger than he was now, and she’d never so much as mentioned their names for twenty years. So whatever it was that made her react that way, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his natural inclination was to do the same. Whether it was something he’d inherited from her or simply learned from her without quite realizing it, he wasn’t sure, but he’d clearly gotten it from his mother one way or another.



Even so, when Olivia, of all people, made you feel bad about not being sentimental enough, it was probably a sign of something.



“What if they’re not even…what if they’re….”



Olivia started sobbing again, and the rest of her sentence never got out.



“It’s only been a few hours there. And you heard my father. The king enjoys seeing them afraid. He wouldn’t do anything too dramatic too soon.”



The only reaction that got was hysterical laughter.



“Besides, for all we know, he’s not planning on doing anything to Kurt anyway,” Eric added. “It’s Patty he’s really interested in.”



“Then why is Kurt missing?”



That was a good question.



When Eric didn’t answer, Olivia took another drag of her joint. A long, heavy drag.



“It’ll be okay.”



“You don’t know that,” she said.



“I do.”



His cousin laughed bitterly. “I get what you’re trying to do. But it’s not working. If you’re looking for a dreamy-eyed optimist, you’ve got the wrong girl.”



True enough. It was Patty’s job to fill that role.



So Eric simply hugged his cousin tight and didn’t say another word.



It might have been the first time in years she’d been that close to him, pressing up against him, without his Libido stirring. That he didn’t notice how good her hair smelled, or how painfully gorgeous she was. With her makeup running down her face like that and her cheeks all puffed up, it was definitely painful to look at her, but not for the usual reason.



As he held his cousin, Eric found himself thinking about Patty. Thinking the thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to think since their father had visited them. Picturing all the vile things Phil might be doing to her. His stomach wretched, and he had to swallow a particularly bitter lump of bile to keep from vomiting.



Olivia thought her little brother was innocent? Was that supposed to be a joke?



Had she met Patty?



He wondered how she must was holding up, wherever she was.



#



They stood before the pearly gates of Solopolis, the city that lay at the center of the verdant valley that was the Eternal Garden of the Sun.



Yes. Pearly gates.



Beyond, Patty saw endless rows of buildings carved from white marble, most of which had a solid sheet of diamonds serving as a roof. Except, of course, for the ones with gilded domes or spires. The streets of Solopolis didn’t form a grid, but stretched out from the center of the city, and the main thoroughfares were were paved in solid gold. As a result, when viewed from above, the city seemed to be built around a sunburst.



These people were anything but modest.



They were, however, Kurt’s people. On his mother’s side, anyway. That was why they were here. In the hope that the grandfather Kurt had never met would take them in and give them refuge.



“I don’t know about this,” Patty said.



She might not feel comfortable criticizing her cousin’s sunlit kindred, but she was having more and more second thoughts about the whole running away thing.



Kurt stared at her like she’d said that she hated puppies.



“What if they’re worried about us?” she asked.



“We’ve been gone for like ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe they haven’t even noticed.”



“Ten minutes for us,” she said. “But Summer’s time is different than LA’s. Sorry, than the Playground’s. Why shouldn’t it be different here too?”



Kurt frowned, but didn’t reply.



Patty pressed on. “Maybe ten minutes here is closer to two hours in Summer. And two hours in Summer would be close to a full day back home. Which is where our family was headed. So we’ve probably been gone for a day, as far as they’re concerned.”



“Maybe,” he said, sounding skeptical. “But even if that’s true, what are we supposed to do? Go back? Tell them that we’re safe? Because then you won’t be.”



“So we just disappear forever?”



“Not forever,” he said. “Just until….”



“Exactly,” Patty said.



“Well, that still doesn’t change the reason why we left. You don’t want to have sex with the king, right?”



Patty stared at the white sandals and golden strings that now adorned her feet. When they’d appeared, she couldn’t have said, but they did go perfectly with the white tunic and cloth-of-gold belt she also couldn’t remember donning.

“Noooo,” she said.



“And what do you call it when you’re forced to have sex against your will?”



No one here wore any color but white. Many of them even feathery wings, or wings made of pure light. Patty had seen men and women with halos, and a few with golden nimbuses surrounding their entire bodies. Even the ones that lacked such flourishes could hardly be mistaken for anything else though.



Angels.



Not literally, of course. No such beings had ever existed, as they’d heard many a sunlit official proclaim to the throng of lesser immortals hoping to be granted entrance. But these were the beings that had inspired such myths. Of that, there could be no doubt. Even if they didn’t proudly boast of it themselves.



Which they did.



Often and loudly.



And with an utterly transparent false humility.



“Beings of pure good, you say? Created the universe, you say? No, no, not us. Though, of course, you can’t blame those charming mortals for thinking so!”



A year ago, before she knew she was immortal, before she’d ever heard of the Homelands, if someone had told Patty that one day soon she’d walk the streets of Heaven, bumping elbows with angels, she’d have laughed her fool head off. If that same person had told her that she’d find those angels to be haughty, vainglorious, and insufferable, she’d have rolled her eyes.



And if they’d told her that she’d want nothing more than to leave before she even set foot inside the main city, she’d have known they were crazy.



Her cousin’s clothes had changed to match the local custom as well. On him, though, it didn’t look ridiculous. Especially since his skin had turned gold like his mother’s.



It was beautiful, in a way. But it also made him seem strange and alien. Like the two of them weren’t really part of the same family after all, regardless of the fact that his father and her mother were brother and sister.



“We’ll stay here for a while, maybe pick up a few tricks, and then head back,” Kurt said. “By then, things will have all blown over. The king will have forgotten about you. And if not, we’ll be ready to deal with him.”



Patty frowned.



“Give me an hour,” he said. “Let’s find my grandfather. Talk to him. See what he thinks. If you still want to go back, that’s what we’ll do.”



She looked around at the crowd of lesser immortals. They all wore the white on white on gold on white attire of the sunlit folk. But none of the others had golden skin that veritably sparkled under the never-setting-sun. Just Kurt.



He belonged here.



She didn’t. It wasn’t going to take her an hour to figure that out.



Still, she didn’t relish the thought of going back and submitting to the king and his cold eyes either. And how long had she dreamed of being alone with Kurt? Here she was, as alone as alone got. Just her and Kurt and a bunch of strange, ethereal beings with serious delusions of grandeur. Beings that seemed perfectly willing to pretend that she didn’t exist.



“An hour,” she said with a sigh.



Her cousin ran a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead. “You won’t regret it.”



“Hmmph,” Patty grunted.



It was as close to a reaction as she could muster.



#



“He’ll be okay, sweetie,” her mother said.



Veronica nodded absent-mindedly.



“He’s in good hands,” she added.



Of that, there seemed no cause for doubt. As Veronica watched, a busty young woman with daringly short hair knelt at the foot of the bed, holding her hands over the stumps of her brother’s legs. That woman, who looked at first glance like she might have been in her late-twenties, was her grandmother.



Lady Hardt.



The author of the diary Veronica had read so many times, who had traveled to Eternal Garden of the Sun, ended the feud between House Hardt and House Moody back before Jennifer or Gabriela had been born, let alone raised a family of Moodys and Hardts together. Veronica certainly wouldn’t have known as much if her mother hadn’t told her, though. With her caramel skin, brown eyes, black hair, and generous bosom, she certainly looked like a Hardt. But she didn’t look at all like the Grandma Flori that Veronica remembered. Because, of course, she wasn’t. Not really. Rather, she was a figure of almost legendary proportion. A woman who knew the Homelands and the gifts given to its people better than anyone Veronica was likely to ever meet.



Nick wasn’t just in good hands. He was in the best of hands.



Still, Veronica found herself sick with anxiety.



There had to be more that her grandmother could do. That the rest of them could do. All she was doing was sitting there, eyes closed, holding Nick’s bloody thighs, while Veronica and her mother watched from across the room.



In the back of her mind, Veronica knew that there was nothing more that could be done. That the wilted petals from the flower on the nightstand floating in the air and the lights flickering and the mirror swirling and glowing were all signs that her that her grandmother was wielding a stunning amount of energy. More energy than would pass through Veronica in a dozen years was being poured into her brother.



As if all the little physical manifestations of her grandmother’s power weren’t enough to Veronica that she was witnessing something few of their kind could achieve, Veronica felt the energy bleeding out into the room. And she’d never been intimate with her grandmother. Nor did she have Nick’s talent for sensing the energy in which their kind trafficked. For her to sense the type of thing that no one save her brother ordinarily picked up on, something uniquely momentous had to be happening.



Not that it showed.



Nick was still unconscious, looking pale as death. And his legs were still missing.



“If he was in real trouble, you’d know it,” her mother said, taking one of Veronica’s hands in hers. “We Hardt women have a way of knowing when those we care most about are in danger of being taken away from us.”



“We do?”



Her mother nodded.



But Veronica could tell by the look on her face that it was a lie. She might as well have been talking about the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny. A little white lie to allow her daughter to believe the world was a better, more magical place than it was.



The kind of lies she sometimes suspected that Nick was really good at telling. Perhaps that was a talent he’d learned from their mother. Or a gift he’d inherited.



Most of the time, she was thankful for it. Even when she was all but certain that she knew he was lying to her, she appreciated the thought behind it. Her brother’s eagerness to please her was one of his better virtues.



Just at the moment, though, she didn’t want a comforting lie. She wanted the truth, however ugly it might be.



Their kind had all sorts of amazing powers. But knowing when their loved ones were about to die wasn’t one of them. At least, not one that the women of House Hardt all shared. Her grandmother might well have such a talent. There didn’t seem to be much her grandmother wasn’t capable of. But Veronica and her mother were a different story.



“Maybe you should go see what Grandpa and Annie are up to,” her mother said. “They might need help with dinner.”



Veronica scoffed at that, though it came out more like she was choking.



Her mother gave her a sad smile and patted her thigh. “Yeah. I can’t imagine leaving his side either. Not even for an instant.”



That, at least, was true.



Whether it was simply because he was her son, Veronica was less sure. Their mother was more interested in women than men. And she seemed to have a real thing for her mother. But Veronica suspected that there was still something of a special place in her heart, and between her legs, for Nick.



“Just seemed like something I ought to suggest,” her mother added.



“Not doing him or me any good to sit here, worried sick,” Veronica said, speaking the thoughts she felt sure were on her mother’s mind. “I know that. I do. But I can’t be anywhere else right now. I just can’t.”



With a lingering kiss on her forehead, her mother said, “You’re most definitely your mother’s daughter. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”



If anyone else had been trying to do so, it was news to Veronica. Perhaps her mother was referring to Gabriela and House Moody? Did it bother her so that Nick and Veronica wanted to help Patty?



Her mother’s gaze drifted back to Nick. “This part is never easy.”



A lump rose in Veronica’s throat. She wanted to ask her mother if she’d ever lost anyone, but words failed her.



Besides, the faint nod her mother gave her said it all. Not who or when or why, but there could be no doubt that her mother had watched someone she loved die.



“Ask me about it sometime,” she said. “But not today.”



Without a word, Veronica rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.



#



When Eric and Olivia went back inside, their parents immediately fell silent. And all eyes turned to Eric. Not him and his cousin. Him, specifically.



“Hey, sweetie,” his mother said. “Everything okay?”



“With me? Yeah. Just wondering when we’re going to decide what we’re doing.”



His mother turned and stared at her brother.



Uncle Wes sighed. His mouth opened, then closed again, without producing any words. He scratched the back of his head and stared at the ground.



Aunt Zoey glowered at her husband, then turned her gaze on Eric. She was, at the moment, wearing a partial disguise. That is, she didn’t look like a moderately attractive woman in her forties, the way she had all while he was growing up. She was currently a statuesque blonde with the kind of curves most men would consider perfect. The kind of curves that allowed a woman to feel comfortable wearing a string bikini like the one that was currently making a poor attempt at covering her charms. But her skin was no different in color than that of her daughter’s. Her eyes were blue, and her lips red. When she allowed her true self to shine through, her skin was less bronze than gold, and it took on a metallic glint. Her lips generally became a deep golden-brown, her hair platinum blonde, and it was easy to imagine that some ethereal choir was singing her glory.



In short, she looked like an immortal from the Homelands, all right. But, at the moment, she looked like a woman of Summer, rather than the Eternal Garden of the Sun. Unreasonably, supernaturally, painfully attractive she might be, but she didn’t currently remind Eric of classical paintings of angels.



He wished she’d let her true self out.



It would make it easier to remember that she was an outsider. That he didn’t have to listen to her. That, while Kurt might have been her son, she was no Moody.



“How about now?” Zoey said.



Eric snorted. “Fine with me. In fact, that’s-”



“I say we put it to a vote,” she said, cutting in.



A vote? Was she kidding?



If there was anything that could convince Eric not to do everything in his power to get his sister back, that sure as fucking hell wasn’t it.



“All those in favor of opening negotiations with the king-” his aunt began.



It was his turn to cut her off.



“Fuck that.”



Her blue eyes went wide.



Eric went and stood by his mother. “I don’t care if there are three of you and only two of us. We’re not going to crawl before the king on our knees, begging him to let us give him more of what he wants. He’ll only see us as weak. After we give in to whatever demands he makes of us, he’ll still refuse to give Patty and Kurt back, because he’ll know that we won’t do anything about it.”



“Wait a minute,” Olivia said. “Three of ‘you’? I didn’t say anything.”



And, when her mother’s eyes fell on her, Liv went right on not saying anything.



“You might be right,” Wes said.



Zoey’s hand closed the short distance between her and her husband, took one of his hands in hers, and gave it a squeeze. Eric could almost hear the bones in his uncle’s hand popping.



Through gritted teeth, Uncle Wes said, “You don’t know the Bravos, dear.”



That the ceiling was not ripped off the roof by the storm behind his aunt’s eyes struck Eric as a miracle. Her lips tightened and she asked, “So, you think I’m an outsider now too? I always knew that if it came down to it, you’d choose your sister over me.”



Gabby scoffed.



Eric wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was aware that the primary reason his mother wasn’t more interested in her brother was that she thought he was a bit too meek. The thought that he might have to worry about losing her to his uncle if Wes ever decided to grow a pair didn’t sit well with Eric.



At the same time, he had to admit that he liked seeing the way his uncle looked at his mother. Liked knowing that his desire for her had, apparently, been a source of friction in his marriage. That made Eric proud of his mother, and further convinced him, as if he needed any more convincing, that she was hot stuff. That a man could be married to a woman who so perfectly embodied mainstream conceptions of beauty and still ache for more attention from Gabby gave Eric a perverse thrill.



And, for that matter, it was nice to see his uncle side with them about the king too.



Uncle Wes gave his sister a pained look before pulling his hand back from his wife and turning to face her. “This isn’t about choosing between you and her. This is about what’s best for our son. And I didn’t say I don’t think we should try to negotiate. But Eric’s right that we need to worry about looking weak.”



“So we’re back to talking about taking hostages?” Eric’s mother asked, sounding more than a little impatient. “I thought we’d all agreed already that that’s not practical.”



They had?



Good. That saved Eric some effort.



“We can’t expect him to just hand our kids over,” Wes said to his sister. “Nor can we assume that he’ll honor his word if we make some concessions to him first.”



“Sounds like we can’t expect to reason with him at all,” Eric said.



Aunt Nina had made it quite clear. He couldn’t tell them what she’d said, of course. He hadn’t yet told his mother about meeting Nina. Wasn’t even sure if or when he would. But her voice echoed in his mind, and he knew he couldn’t let his aunt and uncle talk him out of what had to be done.



Olivia plopped down on the couch, covering her eyes with her hands, muttering curses to herself in between sobs.



The sight of his cousin breaking down like that tore at Eric’s heart strings, but he’d done his best to console her already. Her suffering was no longer his greatest concern.



His sister’s was.



He’d let Patty slip from his thoughts too often of late.



“You can do whatever you want. Ask for a truce. Renounce membership in House Moody and negotiate on behalf of some new house. Whatever. Makes no difference to me,” Eric said. “One way or another, I know what I’m going to do.”



His mother stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.



If she hadn’t been there, he’d still have said it. It was what needed to be said. But feeling his mother’s breasts pressed against his back, her breath warm against his skin, her forearms covering his midsection, gave him additional strength. With his beautiful, loving mother behind him, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.



He looked his uncle in the eye. “So. What’ll it be?”



Wes drew a deep breath. “We’re with you.”



“We are?” Zoey asked, a delicate eyebrow arched.



Wes turned to face her, back straight as a board. “Yes, honey. We are.”



Olivia gave out a sigh of relief.



The sunlit woman’s nostrils flared and she crossed her arms under her breasts, but she held her tongue. The venom in those eyes, which were starting to glow, would have set fire to kindling. Would have melted the polar ice caps. Eric wasn’t sure how his uncle, the mealymouthed pushover, withstood that gaze. He did though. Without so much as blinking.



“Well, you know what we need to do then,” Zoey said at last.



“What’s that?” Eric asked.



“Gather up as much energy as we can,” his uncle said, voice flat.



Eric blushed as he realized what that meant.



They had to fuck each other’s brains out. Not for the fun of it, though there’d be more than a little pleasure involved. But to make sure that they were strong enough to face the king and his kin.



“For Kurt,” Zoey said, eyes focused on Eric.



“And Patty,” Eric added.



#



“Pass me that knife, please, gorgeous?”



Veronica blushed as she did as her grandfather bid. And tried not to notice the dirty look that Annie was gave her as she did.



“You should go check on Nick,” her sister said. “See if he’s awake yet.”



“If only,” Veronica said, pretending not to pick up on the subtext. “Grandma said he’s not to be disturbed. And, apparently, being in the room with him would be a disturbance.”



It pained her that she couldn’t sit by her brother’s side, confident that she’d be there the moment his eyes opened again. But her grandmother had been most insistent. Once she’d finally finished doing whatever it was that she’d been doing to him, that is. The look on Grandma Flori’s face had brooked no argument.



Besides, though she never should really doubted that Nick would be all right, Veronica had begun to breathe easier when she saw the stumps at the end of her brother’s legs slowly stretch out. He was still a long ways from being complete again, and if there was anything remotely resembling feet at the ends of his regenerating appendages, Veronica hadn’t noticed them. But it seemed safe to conclude that there would be, soon enough.



Her brother would make a fully recovery, and they’d be together again.



The thought made her heart flutter.



In the meantime, Grandma Flori was regaining her strength. Which didn’t mean taking a nap, the way it would with most grandmothers. No, it meant she was getting busy with her daughter. Veronica hadn’t been sure whether to laugh or smile or blush at that. Even after two years of engaging in incest on something close to a daily basis, the thought of her mother and her grandmother together struck her as really perverse.



Of course,this was the first she’d seen of her grandparents since discovering the truth about her family. The first that she’d been forced to accept that the things her grandmother had written about in her diary were not bygones of some long past era, when Flori was still young and pretty, but the surprisingly recent exploits of an immortal woman who had never lost, and never would lose, her beauty.



That was comforting, on a certain level. It helped convince her that she too was beyond the reach of such devils as aging, disease, and mortality. But it was also terrifying. It meant that what happened to Nick wasn’t part of some nightmare, but was simply part and parcel of her new reality. Her grandmother’s diary was just as full of tragedy as it was beauty and wonder. And the worst of what her grandmother experienced might yet await Veronica too.



The sweet old woman who’d baked her cookies and taught her how to sew was the fairy tale, not the brave, powerful, beautiful heroine she’d read about in those yellowed pages.



And more or less the same went for her grandfather. Except, she only knew that the man who doted on her when she was a child wasn’t real. What her actual grandfather was like, she didn’t really yet know. The diary she’d stolen covered a period in her grandmother’s life before she’d met Grandpa Randy.



That said, he was definitely making a good first impression on her.



Veronica had always had a thing for older men. She understood why, too. Wasn’t much of a mystery, really, what with the absent father and all. When she’d finally laid eyes on her father, she’d almost melted. And, truth be told, he wasn’t nearly as physically attractive as she’d pictured him as being. Her grandfather, on the other hand, looked exactly like her mental image of a sexy older man. It like the fantasy lover she’d created in her mind had stepped out of her head and into the real world, only he’d mistakenly taken the form of her grandfather instead of her father.

He had a thick but not unruly carpet on his chest and abs, a neatly trimmed beard and a full head of hair, all of which was black as jet where it wasn’t shot through with beautiful silver. His face simultaneously bespoke youth, virility, maturity, experience, and resilience. There were lines in his face, particularly around his eyes and his mouth, but not nearly as many, or as pronounced, as with her father. He had a strong jaw, beautiful brown eyes, prominent cheekbones, and an easy smile.



And his body?



It almost hurt to even allow her eyes to drift down past his neck.



Most importantly, from what Veronica could tell so far, her grandfather was not only handsome and built like a god, but every bit as kind, caring, patient, and understanding as the sweet old man of whom she had so many fond memories.



No wonder Annie wanted him all to herself.



If her kid sister shared Veronica’s thing for older men, she’d done a good job of hiding it throughout the years. But, at the same time, it would almost have been strange if she didn’t. After all, she too had, quite obviously, been abandoned by her father at an early age. Had grown up with the knowledge that the man whose job it was to love her unconditionally had shown no interest in spending time with her, in taking care of and providing for her.



Perhaps she should just tell her sister that she had no intention of trying to steal their grandfather from her. That she couldn’t help feeling flattered by his compliments, and wouldn’t mind spreading her legs for him once before she and Nick took off again to continue their quest to help Patty, but after that, she’d get out of the way.



“I’m sure she didn’t mean that,” Grandpa Randy said as he started cutting tomatoes. “You and your brother have a powerful connection though. Your presence might have more effect on him than you realize.”



“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” Veronica asked.



“Yeah. Shouldn’t she go back in there?” Annie added.



Veronica shot her sister a quick glare that the girl wasn’t gracious enough to even notice.



“He needs to stay under as long as he needs to stay under,” their grandfather said, without looking up from his knife work. “If his spirit senses yours, senses your need for him and the deep worry you have for him, he might rush back before he’s ready.”



The breath went out of Veronica’s lungs.



She almost wished her grandfather hadn’t told her that. It made it even harder to resist going to Nick. And gave new meaning to the forbidden words they’d spoken to one another.



“Best to leave him be, for now,” her grandfather continued. “Before you know it, he’ll be healthy and whole and back with us.”



“There’s something to look forward to, huh, Vee?” Annie asked with a saccharine smile that revealed most of her impossibly white teeth.



The diamond stud in her sister’s nostril glittered in the natural light drifting in through the cabin’s window. Somehow, that struck Veronica as even more mocking than her smile.



Veronica regarded Annie cooly. The hair her sister was running her hand through had fewer blonde streaks in it than usual. Just one on each side, near the front. If Annie would let her hair return to its natural color, all of it, she’d look a little older. More like a young woman instead of a bratty teenager.



And if she’d start acting less like a bratty teenager, maybe men would notice her more.



When Annie was going to realize that the men of their kind didn’t fall for the same crap that high school guys did? That she wasn’t playing for the minor leagues anymore?



Veronica tried to understand where her sister was coming from though. To remember that she felt bad that Annie didn’t have anyone, the way she had Nick and Patty had Kurt. Her sister could be a real bitch when she wasn’t getting her way, but she could also be really sweet at times. Often when you least expected it. And her life had been turned upside down overnight, before she’d had any time to wrap her head around the fact that she wasn’t mortal and neither was anyone in her family. Her older siblings, on the other hand, had known what they was for quite some time before all this madness began. Before the fateful induction ceremony had taken their sister away from them.



With a deep breath, Veronica turned her attention back to her grandfather.



He wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of khaki cargo shorts. His amazing torso made Nick look puny and underdeveloped. Made even Eric look like it wouldn’t hurt him to hit the weights a little harder. Yet it wasn’t just that he had big muscles. Which he did, and which Veronica very much appreciated. Nor was it just that they were beautifully toned. Which they were. His eight pack was no less perfect than Nick’s, yet his chest was fuller, his shoulders broader, and his biceps more akin to basketballs. All of which was to the good. But he also had more hair than either of her brothers.



Some women would have said it was too much. That he looked more like a bear than a man. But in Veronica’s eyes, there was nothing more manly than a good pelt stretching from collarbone to the guy’s waist. And beyond. Especially since his upper arms and his back were bald. He wasn’t exactly neatly groomed, and probably had no idea what manscaping was, but his body hair was hardly out of control.



The way he worked the knife through the vegetables suggested a certain dexterity too. Veronica could only imagine what else he could do with those nimble hands.



“Annie, cutie, would you check on the fish?” he asked.



With another overly sweet smile, Veronica’s sister climbed down off the kitchen stool and padded over to the oven. As Annie bent over to look in at the fish, Veronica couldn’t help but notice that her sister had no ass to speak of.



“Mostly white,” Annie said.



Nick thought that Veronica’s ass was too small, and she’d always worried that she had too much junk in the trunk. What guy could look at Annie’s backside and not be a little disappointed? True, the girl had pretty big boobs. Not nearly as big as Veronica’s, but awfully generous given her slight build.



A wave of guilt crashed over Veronica as she realized what she was doing. Taking stock of all the ways in which she thought that was more desirable than her sister, so as to take the sting off the girl’s passive aggressive behavior towards her. There was no need for that though. It was just petty. She genuinely loved Annie. Wanted her to be happy. If their grandfather could give the girl what she’d been missing, so much the better.



“We’re waiting for it to start to brown,” their grandfather said as he used the edge of the knife to slide the freshly chopped onion and tomatoes off the cutting board and into the bowl of salad he was preparing.



“Should Vee go tell Mom and Grandma that dinner’s almost ready?” Annie asked, without so much as a glance at Veronica.



“Not just yet,” their grandfather replied.



Veronica was almost amused at her sister’s latest thinly-veiled attempt to get rid of her. As if she hadn’t even noticed it, she asked their grandfather, “How did you meet Grandma?”



Seeming to forget all about her campaign against Veronica, Annie climbed back into her stool, plopped her elbows up on the marble counter, and rested her chin in between her hands. “I love these kinds of stories,” she said, grinning faintly.



“Well, unfortunately, this one is surprisingly boring,” their grandfather said.



“So surprise us,” Veronica said.



Annie nodded emphatically.



He chuckled as he added oil and vinegar to the salad. “Well, I was one of only two remaining members of a very modest house. Before our feud with House Fisher, there were seven of us, of course. But that’s how these things go.”



Veronica’s throat felt tight. By the look on their grandfather’s face and his casual tone of voice, you’d never think he’d just spoken of the violent deaths of most of his family. It might have been long ago, and he might not have been a young man, however much he looked like one, but their kind wasn’t supposed to be as used to burying loved ones as mortals were.



“Fisher. That’s our father’s house?” Annie asked. The grin was gone from her face, and her voice had shifted from enthusiastic to somber.



Their grandfather nodded. “Of course, Hank’s father hadn’t even been born yet. So we’re talking a ways back. Before Daphne’s time, even.”



“Who’s Daphne?” Veronica asked.



“Oh, my. You don’t know who…that’s for another time. Your grandmother is the one to ask anyway. Not me.”



Annie gave Veronica a look, as if to ask, “Should we let him get away with that?”



The name sounded familiar. She was pretty sure she’d come across it in her grandmother’s diary, at least in passing. But what the significance of it was, she couldn’t have said. She didn’t even think Daphne was from Summer. Autumn maybe. Or Winter. Yeah, Winter sounded right. Worlds away from everything she’d ever known.



Veronica shrugged. It wasn’t often that she forced her curiosity to take a back seat, but she really wanted to hear about how her grandparents met. Besides, her grandfather’s reaction notwithstanding, how big a deal could some random woman from Winter be?



Their grandfather had already moved on though. “Point is, this was all a long time ago, even by Summer’s reckoning. So it wasn’t your father, or even his father, but his father’s father, who very nearly wiped my family out of existence.”



Again, he said it the same way he might mention that they’d had a particularly mild storm season that year. Some random factoid that gave context for the important part of the story and nothing more.



Veronica shuddered.



“Until your grandmother stepped in.” His eyes drifted up to the ceiling. “That’s Flori for you. She was the youngest of the Hardts, and still something of a stranger to Summer, despite having been initiated several years earlier. But it was she who saw an opportunity, where the rest of her House saw somebody else’s problem.”



“An opportunity for what?” Annie asked.



“To fuck House Fisher over, of course,” their grandfather said, nonchalantly.



Annie gasped, then laughed at herself for doing so.



Veronica almost did so herself. Here she was, expecting a romantic tale. The dreamy look on their grandfather’s face certainly suggested as much. But it turned out that he was, at least initially, nothing more than a pawn on a chessboard to her grandmother.



But, then, this was the Homelands.



What did love have to do with anything? Her mothers had never been in love with one another. Her father clearly hadn’t been either. Uncle Wes loved Aunt Zoey, but Veronica had always had the sense that he was the exception to a lot of rules.



It was probably just a matter of time before someone pressured her to marry a guy she hardly knew, and perhaps had more than a little reason to hate, just so that some stupid feud could be brought to an end. That was just how things were done here.



That made her blood run cold.



It wasn’t as though Veronica thought that she was going to get to marry the guy she wanted to marry, of course. If one of their kind married her own brother, it would be a complete scandal. But still. She’d at least like to think she could choose whom to settle for instead. The idea of arranging marriages to end wars seemed so archaic.



“So your grandmother married way beneath herself,” their grandfather continued, “her brother married my sister, and House Fisher offered a truce.” He gave them a grin, as if to say, “It might have been a boring story, but at least it had a happy ending.”



“Just like that?” Veronica asked, still feeling a bit disoriented.



“Well, you have to understand that, at the time, House Fisher was an upstart,” Grandpa Randy explained. “They were strong, and getting stronger, but they were still young and small compared to the mighty Hardts.”



Annie giggled at that.



With bemused smile, their grandfather added, “It might help to clarify that those were the glory days for your house. And I should also note that House Fisher wasn’t done with us. Or their quest for the throne. But if there’s one thing that’s always separated Fishers from the rest of us, it’s patience.”



“So what happened next?” Annie asked.



“Some other time,” their grandfather said. “That part of the story isn’t so pleasant.”



Veronica drew a deep breath.



Did he think that they found it pleasant to hear about how one branch of their family tree had nearly annihilated another branch? How thoroughly unromantic was the story of their grandparents’ marriage?



For her part, Annie seemed completely unaffected. A little disappointed, maybe, in either the story itself or the fact that it wasn’t going to continue. But certainly not disturbed.



“I’ll go tell Mom and Grandma it’s about time for dinner,” Veronica said.



#



It wasn’t easy for Gabriela, but she pulled her brother into her arms and forced herself not to pay attention to her son as he went over to Olivia and Zoey.



She’d reclaim Eric soon enough. But, much as she hated to admit it, her son would get more energy from those two than he would from her. Especially from Zoey. That woman had a Libido the likes of which weren’t found in Summer.



And, truth be told, she was feeling a little more attracted to Wes than she had been in a long time. With the way he’d stood up to his wife, Gabriela could almost imagine that her brother actually had a pair after all. She’d of course prefer to be with Eric. But Wes didn’t seem like quite so poor a substitute just at the moment.



“The two of you have really fought about me?” she asked, between nibbles of his ear.



He hesitated. Then, with a sound that could have just as easily be taken for a cough or a scoff, he said, “You could say that.”



“That’s…pretty fucking hot,” she said.



Wes laughed awkwardly. “Exactly what I was thinking at the time.”



“Of course it wasn’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter.” She knew how her brother abhorred conflict. Especially with those he loved. And there was no mistaking that he did love Zoey. “In fact, that’s exactly what makes it so hot.”



She felt a little guilty saying that. She never would have asked her brother to pick a fight with his wife. But she couldn’t help the fact that it turned her on that he had done so. That it made her see her brother, and his feelings towards her, in a different light.



Gabriela fumbled with her brother’s shorts. Getting him out of his clothes was proving a little difficult, given that she couldn’t bring herself to stop kissing his neck.



“Here,” he said, taking her hands aside to take care of it himself.



She pulled back and stared into his blue eyes. They were just like her son’s. So was his hair, besides the tufts of white at his temples. His blonde beard didn’t even seem quite as silly to her as it always had before. If she tried hard enough, she could almost mistake her brother for Ryan Gosling.



“Promise me something,” she said.



“Anything.”



“Don’t hold back.”



He furrowed his brow.



“Fuck me like a whore, Wes,” she said, without missing a beat. “Use me for your pleasure. Don’t worry about whether I like it. If I don’t, I’ll let you know. But if I know you’re enjoying yourself, I will too. So just let yourself go for a change.”



Gabriela had never said anything like that to her brother. In the past, she’d always felt that she shouldn’t have to tell him. That she’d sent so signals over the years that he should have been able to figure it out on his own. But she was tired of waiting for him to do so. It was time to go ahead and say what needed to be said and hope that it lead to them sharing a special moment. He’d always wanted them to be closer. This was his chance to make it happen. All he had to do was allow her to be who she was, instead of forcing her to be who he wanted her to be.



He didn’t respond at first. But, eventually, he nodded.



That was it. Not a word of protest. No questions about what she meant by that. No attempt to explain why he’d behaved as he had in the past, or to apologize for having done so. He just took her request at face value and was prepared to honor it.



She kissed him, and for the first time in too long, felt a real spark.



Her brother might not have Eric’s confidence, determination, and intensity, but he was a good man. Caring, devoted, thoughtful, and responsible. And he worshiped her.



It was in his eyes, and in the way his lips wrestled with hers. The way his hands hungrily freed her breasts or slid up the hem of her dress. His Libido was giving off heat like a miniature sun. No man had ever desired her as intensely as her brother did.



Not even her son.



And though he wasn’t quite as well-built as Eric, Wes had a nicer body than Gabriela sometimes gave him credit for. As she ran her hands over his sleek torso, up his sculpted abs and hard chest and over his rounded shoulders and firm arms, she forced herself not to think about how disappointing her previous experiences with him had been. How frustrating it was that he’d set her up on a pedestal and refused to let her be a real person, flaws and all. It was as if she was discovering her brother’s body for the first time.



And the truth was, Wes was fucking hot.



While they continued to play tonsil hockey, her brother ripped away her dress. The sound of it tearing and the surprise of his sudden aggression almost made Gabriela fail to notice the sting of the fabric cutting into her skin before it gave way.



Wes could simply have made her dress evaporate. But she was glad he didn’t.



Gabriela broke away from their kiss, needing to look into her brother’s eyes and see the fierce, animalistic lust there. And she was not disappointed. He was practically snarling as he stared back at her.



“Oh, Wes,” she moaned.



He pulled her back down, giving her lower lip a gentle bite.



It didn’t take long for him to guide his hard cock into her welcoming cunt. She was so ready for him, he slid right in. Which came as something of a surprise, seeing as her brother was not small. By any means. Ordinarily, he stretched her so wide that it took some effort to accommodate his full length.



Gabriela almost cried with joy as her brother filled her up. She could feel him pressing against her cervix. His thick shaft parted her walls and rubbed against the spongy flesh of her G-spot. If she were a mortal woman, incapable of adjusting herself so readily, it would have hurt. Instead, it made her feel more intimately connected to her brother than she’d ever allowed herself to feel before.



Once he drove all the way in, to the point that his heavy balls rested against her ass, he stopped. Whether that was to let her catch her breath or allow him to get used to her tight grip, she couldn’t have said. But either way, though, it was only a moment’s reprieve.



After that, her brother did indeed fuck her like a whore.



Except that if that was how men treated whores, every woman in the world would be clamoring to take up the world’s oldest occupation.



Gabriela bit her brother’s neck, raked her nails down his back, and squeezed his tight ass cheeks in her hands. She wrapped her legs around him so tightly that she almost worried that she might cut him in half. But all the while, he just kept staring intensely into her eyes and pounding her pussy.



“That’s it, don’t stop,” she panted.



“You like that?” he asked. “Does my filthy slut of a sister like having her little brother’s big dick rip her apart?”



Gabriela threw her head back. “God, yes!” His furious thrusts had her on fire. She was building rapidly towards a climax. “Fuck me, Wes. Fuck me hard. Please. I need it so bad.” Biting her lip so hard she feared she might draw blood, she added, “I’m your whore.”



She worried that he might be baiting a trap. That if she kept up the dirty talk, he’d eventually pull out and turn his back on her in disgust. But she was too turned on to care. If the thought of his sister wanting to be treated like a whore bothered Wes, though, he didn’t let it show.

If possible, he actually started fucking her even harder.



He leaned in for a hard kiss. Meanwhile, one hand held her thigh up and the other groped at her tits. Her pussy was on fire, her nipples were getting sore, and her mouth was numb. But it felt too damn good to complain. Too good, and too fucking overdue, for her to even draw on her powers to offset any of that.



After his mouth left hers, the hand that had been kneading her breast like dough rose up to her lips, and he pressed his fingers into her mouth without waiting for her to take the hint. She sucked on them like they were his stiff dick, and his eyes lit up as she did.



She didn’t know where this new Wes had come from, or why she hadn’t been able to find him in the past twenty years, but at least she had found him. And he was about to make her explode. She’d never felt so sexy, so desirable, so powerful.



That seemed like a paradox. She was on her back, almost buried in the couch, while her well-muscled brother was on top of her. He was holding her leg pressed tight against him and pushing his fingers into her mouth. If she wanted to escape, she’d have been powerless to do so. That was the last thing she’d consider doing just then, but she was still well aware that she was pinned beneath him and that he was far stronger than her. Yet, despite all that, she truly was the one with the power. The power to transform her mild-mannered brother into an animal. To get him to cross his bitch of a wife. To get him to do whatever she might want him to do. He needed her affection that badly.



Her pussy started quivering madely. It wouldn’t be long now. She tried to moan his name, but with his fingers in her mouth, all that came out was an indecipherable jumble.



Her brother took his fingers away and ropes of saliva dribbled down onto her shoulder. But they promptly disappeared, and his suddenly clean and dry hand slid through her hair, coming to rest gently on the back of her head.



They locked gazes.



A lifetime of shared experiences flashed through her eyes. She remembered when Alan had cut the hair off her Barbie and melted its face with a lighter. She’d blamed Wes for that. She’d known which brother had done it, but it was easier to blame the quiet, shy one than the one she both feared and admired. She remembered the time that Wes demanded that Alan apologize to Gabriela for telling her that she looked fat in her uniform. That had been the first day of school after the summer in which her breasts had started to develop. And Alan had indeed apologized. Eventually. After he’d given Wes a few bruises. She remembered too how Wes had been there to hold her when Alan and Becky and their parents were taken from them. How he, and not her husband, had been there when she’d given birth.



“Yeeeeeeeeeeeessssssss,” Gabriela wailed as her climax hit.



The spasms started off small, but quickly turned powerful. Pleasure radiated through her body, up and out from her hot cunt. Her nipples and fingers and toes tingled, her face felt flush, and her arms and legs were weightless.



She was completely at her brother’s mercy. And he should have been taking advantage of that. Gabriela should have felt energy draining out of her like water from an upended jug. Instead, she felt only a slight trickle. Like blood dribbling out of a pinprick.



“Wes,” she panted, struggling to regain her breath.



“Shh,” he said.



She stared up at him, unsure whether what she was feeling was anger or amusement or disappointment or appreciation. Or maybe all of those at once.



“I’ll be fine,” he said. “This is Eric’s moment to shine. And he needs you at his back.”



Gabriela started to protest.



Before any words left her mouth, though, he said, “I’ll do my part. And I’ll see to it that Liv and Zoey do too. But you need your strength more than I do.”



She nodded, then took her brother by the shoulders, spun him around, and forced him onto his back. The couch groaned as he flopped down onto it, but Wes himself only laughed. His laughter died as she climbed atop him, though, and he stared up at her silently, intensely, blue eyes glimmering with lust.



Gabriela straddled her brother’s hips and leaned down, as if she were about to kiss him. But when he leaned up, lips puckered, she pulled away.



“You fucking tease,” Wes said.



“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she replied.



Slowly, she worked her way down her brother’s lean, hard torso. She wondered as she did whether he’d always smelled this good. Had she simply failed to notice because she didn’t want to be too impressed by him?



“Please,” he begged, jerking his hips and pushing his dick up towards her tits.



“Is that what you want?” she asked, taking hold of them and bouncing them a bit, to his utter delight. “Not my mouth?”



Wes simply groaned in reply.



Gabriela continued her teasing descent, kissing and caressing her brother’s firm pecs and toned abs. When her breasts started to slide down his midsection towards his hard dick, Gabriela heard her brother whimper.



“Let’s see Zoey do that,” she thought to herself.



When she finally wrapped her love pillows around her brother’s length of steel, he let out a heavy sigh. The look of pure ecstasy in his eyes while she slid her breasts up and down the length of his shaft was a true sight to behold.



She had to confess, she was a little surprised by that. Gabriela knew that men loved her breasts, but it had never occurred to her that she could get this much of a reaction out of a guy simply by pressing them against his cock and bouncing them up and down a bit. She was going to have to try it with Eric and see if he responded the same way.



After a few minutes of that, though, she was ready to taste her brother. She was curious to see if she’d find his cum more pleasant this time than she had in the past. Would she find herself more open to the hint of apricots and walnuts?



“Mmm, you’re the best, baby,” Wes moaned as her lips slowly enveloped his helmet.



He didn’t try to get her to speed up. She knew that he wanted to, though. Knew that it took a great effort on his part to keep his hips flat on the couch cushions.



Her blood began pumping just a little faster. She slowed down and used her tongue more sparingly. Gabriela was going to torture her brother, if not quite the way she had so often done when they were kids.



At least, that was the plan.



She’d barely even begun to show him what she had in store for him when Wes exploded.



His eyes rolled back in his head, his jaw clenched tight, and he started filling her mouth with his warm seed. It tasted both better than ever and exactly the same. There were traces of apricot and walnut, as ever, but not of bitter disappointment.



Even after Gabriela gulped down a few mouthfuls, her brother kept cumming. His Libido was gradually emptying and her own swelling as a torrent of energy flowed from him to her.



#



He was dreaming.



No, he was dead.



No, definitely both awake and alive, though not entirely sure he wanted to be either one of those things. A dull ache plagued every part of his body. Except for the parts that ached fiercely. His head felt heavy and full of wool. Never before had he felt so thoroughly fatigued.



Nick tried to sit up, but found he lacked the strength. Then he tried to swing his legs out over the side of the bed, and his body again refused to cooperate. He threw his head back against the pillow and groaned. He immediately wished he hadn’t, though. The pins and needles in his head went crazy.



Where was he, anyway?



Search his memory though he might, he found no recollection of the small bedroom. The walls of unfinished wood, the twin beds, and the old-fashioned ceiling fan were utterly unfamiliar to him. It looked like he was in a hunting cabin or something. At least, the room certainly belonged in what a boy raised in southern California, who’d never been a hundred miles from either coast of the US of A, might imagine a hunting cabin to look like.



The vase on the nightstand caught his eye. He didn’t recognize that type of flower, and there was a decidedly otherworldly character to them. Like they must have come from-



“Nick?” his sister called out. “You awake?”



He mumbled a response. Then tried again. The second time, the sound that escaped his throat was louder. Unfortunately, it was no more decipherable than his initial grunt.



The door just beyond the foot of the bed opened, and Veronica rushed in.



Nick’s heart nearly burst out of his chest.



She was exactly the person he wanted to see just then. And she couldn’t have looked better. From the way she wore her hair off to the side, spilling down the front of one shoulder, to the tight bustier that had the unenviable job of trying to contain her huge breasts, to her thick-rimmed glasses. And was she wearing stockings and heels? Since when did she wear stuff like that? Damn, did she look good in them, though.



The mere sight of his sister instantly put to rest all doubts he might have had about the functioning of his anatomy.



“Hey, Vee,” he said. And it almost sounded like it too.



“Heeey, you,” his sister said in a soft voice. “How you feelin’?”



Like shit, truth be told. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Not even if he could form actual words. That sad, concerned look on her face was hard enough for him to bear as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was give her any further reason to be sad.



What had happened to him, anyway? Why couldn’t he talk? Or move? And why was Veronica speaking to him in the kind of voice one might use with a cancer patient?



Nick tried to remember. But he was coming up blank.



His sister sat down on the edge of the bed, one leg upraised and one still on the floor, and took one of his hands in hers. Her beautiful brown eyes were wide, her lower lip quivering, and Nick’s heart melting.



Was that really his hand in hers? All pale and ashen?



Finally, it came back to him.



The failed raid on the headquarters of Brave Old World. The guards with their harmless guns. The king’s sons, who sadly were anything but harmless. The ceiling crashing down.



His legs being severed.



“They’re growing back,” his sister said, without taking her eyes from his.



Nick drew a deep breath.



“Grandma took good care of you.”



Of course. He should have guessed.



The homely cabin had Grandma and Grandpa written all over it. Heck, his grandfather had probably built the thing by hand, even though grandma could have conjured it up with a snap of her fingers. And the flowers were obviously native to Summer. No earthly variety had petals that reminiscent of crystal.



They were back in the Homelands, then, with their family. The Hardt half of it, anyway.



But Patty was still missing. And they hadn’t done anything to help with that.



“How long?” he asked.



“Have you been out?” Veronica asked.



He nodded.



“Several hours,” she said, touching a soft palm to his cheek. “The longest hours of my life,” she added, with a wan smile.



The pain he felt from the waist down, where a new pair of legs was growing rapidly, paled in comparison to the agony of seeing that look on his sister’s face. Of knowing what he must have put her through. It was he who’d been grievously injured, but she who’d done the suffering.



“Missed you,” he said.



Veronica laughed awkwardly and looked away. “Goofball. You weren’t even conscious. Probably spent the whole time dreaming about lions, ninjas, and ceilings caving in.” Yet even as she said, “Missed me, my ass,” her soft smile returned.



If he’d dreamt of any of those things, he couldn’t remember it now. But, then, he couldn’t remember much of anything. There was the fight, and then he was trapped motionless in a bed in his grandparents’ cabin, wondering if he was even alive.



So he amended his statement. “Good to see you, Vee.”



She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “Same here.”



They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.



Eventually, Nick said, “We’ll get her back.”



Veronica snorted. As she smoothed his hair back from his face and kissed his forehead again, she whispered, “You should get some more sleep.”



“We will. I promise.”



She kissed him again, this time on the lips, stared into his eyes for a few moments, then left him to drift off back to sleep.



#



Not long ago, Eric couldn’t get enough of Olivia, and had wished he could get more of Aunt Zoey. But as he did his best to enjoy a threesome with the two of them, he found himself wishing he could trade places with Uncle Wes. The women who’d once excited him beyond words no longer did so very much at all.



He still felt more than a little affection for Liv. Maybe even more than he had in the past. Her little breakdown earlier had taken him by surprise. He’d never expected to see that kind of fear and vulnerability from the cousin that he’d alternately thought of in the past as a stuck-up bitch, a tease, and the coolest girl alive. But if he was glad to take her in his arms, it was mostly because he knew that she needed to have her mind taken off everything.



She was no longer an object to lust after. His cousin had become an actual person, complete with needs and weaknesses and feelings. The way she always should have been.



And Zoey?



She was an archetype for Perfection. Tall, thin, and beautiful. She wasn’t quite as gorgeous as her daughter, but it was close. And, judged by the standards society had imposed upon him, his aunt had a fucking killer body. The voice in the back of his head, the one that had always desired the ability to brag to his friends about his conquests more so than it had desired the women he’d conquered, agreed. But now that Eric allowed himself to want what he wanted, to see what was before him rather than what his friends would see, he found Zoey about as exciting as vanilla ice cream.



There was a reason vanilla was the default. It didn’t have much to offer, and it was hard to get too worked up over, but it also couldn’t have been less objectionable. Similarly, his aunt’s relatively full but not exactly large breasts, toned abs, impossibly long legs, small ass, and tiny waist were not the type of features ridiculed by tabloids. No guy would ever fear that his friends would question his judgment if he expressed the belief that a women like Zoey had it going on.



But was that really how beauty was judged? By the absence of imperfections? As if any of their kind had any features that could truly be called “imperfections” anyway?



If not for the fact that she was the most powerful person in the room, he’d have been ignoring her. Unfortunately, though, Eric needed her energy. That was, after all, the reason why they weren’t already on Summer’s shore.



Otherwise, when Olivia slid out of his lap and her mother asked if she could ride him next, he’d seriously have considered saying no.



Well, okay. He probably wouldn’t have. His aunt was not the kind of woman men said “no” to easily. But he still had to remind himself that pleasuring her would help him get his sister back. That there was a good reason he shouldn’t go over to the other couch and take his uncle’s place between his mother’s legs. Where he belonged.



At least, at first he had to remind himself of these things.



Damn, but the woman knew what she was doing.



She dug a nail under his chin and lifted, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Up here, tiger.”



Eric suddenly understood the way all the women had been raving about his father’s eyes.



He’d seen his aunt’s orbs shift from the deep blue of the sea to a decidedly more electric hue before. Mostly when she was angry, but also when she was aroused. He’d never quite noticed just how luminescent they could be though. They were literally shining. Not metaphorically. The damn things actually emitted soft blue light.



As he stared, captivated, up at her unnatural irises, he felt her take hold of his manhood and gently guide him into her womb.



The air went out of Eric’s lungs.



His aunt was showing him everything she had. And, damn, she had was a helluva lot.



She was tight, but not too tight. Warm, but not unpleasantly so. Exactly the way a woman should feel. With each additional inch that disappeared inside her, Eric reached a new level of ecstasy. His aunt was waging all out war on him, metaphysically speaking, and it was not a war he was likely to win.



“You can touch them,” she said, guiding his hands to her breasts. “Just try not to forget to look me in the eye from time to time, okay?”



He tried to reply, but couldn’t.



Her nipples were like pebbles beneath his fingers, yet her breasts were soft and supple. Even as he thought to himself that he needed to get away, to escape the trap she was setting for him, he found that he couldn’t keep his hands away from his aunt’s luscious orbs. No more so than he could speak.



“Please,” he wanted say. “I can’t take it. Have mercy on me.”



But as she pressed a well-manicured fingertip to his mouth, he eagerly sucked it in. And made no attempt to do anything else with his mouth.



If any man had ever before known such bliss, he surely must have killed himself immediately afterwards, out of fear that life could not be worth living afterwards. Not if any significant portion of it would have to be spent away from her warm embrace. How could the tedium of daily life be anything but sheer agony, once a man had known such ecstasy?



With each gentle rock of her hips, her magical womb slid away from him, leaving him feeling cold and exposed and desperate. Only then she’d slide back onto him, and a rush of pleasure and excitement would run through Eric. It was almost as if each thrust was the first. As if he had no idea what unspeakable wonders were in store for him. No matter that he’d felt the very same glorious sensation a second ago.



He had no idea how she was doing that, but neither did he care.



“You know you want to,” she cooed. “Don’t be afraid. Give it to Auntie Zee. Fill her with that glorious life-giving fluid of yours. Fill me up good.”



Eric knew he should have resisted. Knew that he was supposed to be using this as an opportunity to gain some of his aunt’s abundant energy, rather than feeding his own to her. But he couldn’t help himself. He’d never known such pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so good as being inside his aunt.



Nothing.



“Fuuuck,” he moaned as he climaxed.



“That’s it, honey,” Zoey whispered in his ear. “Let yourself go.”



Which, of course, he did.



The ecstasy she’d shown him was entirely artificial. Nothing like the intimacy he felt with his mother. But that didn’t matter nearly as much as he wanted it to. Truth was, Zoey was beyond powerful. He’d always known that the rest of them were weaker than her, but he’d never quite realized the extent of it.



Energy poured out of him like water from a broken fire hydrant. His balls kept pumping and his cum kept spurting and his Libido inched ever closer to utterly empty. Yet he was powerless to stop it.



“Don’t worry,” Aunt Zoey said after he finally finished feeding her thirst. She pressed one soft hand against the side of his face. “I’m not going to keep it.” A grin spread across her lips. “Just wanted you to see what you’ve been missing out on. This way, you’ll be thinking of me every time you cum inside her, from now on.”



Before he could reply, his aunt kissed him lightly on the lips.



As she did, he felt all the energy she’d taken from him come suddenly rushing back in. And then some.



Eric was still reeling, trying to keep from being washed away by the torrent of energy she’d poured into him, when his aunt climbed out of his lap.



“Are you okay?”



He wasn’t sure at first who was asking him that. Convincing himself that he wasn’t about to explode took too much effort. But then his cousin put a hand on his shoulder and bent down to look him in the eye, as if checking for signs of a concussion.

“Yeah,” he said, breathlessly. “Better than, in fact.”



“You sure?” Olivia asked, eyebrows raised.



Eric nodded.



She hesitated a moment before saying, “Good. Because I was kinda hoping….” Without finishing, she glanced over at her father.



Both of them.



One was busily fucking the hell out of Eric’s mother. Giving it to her like he never had before, really. The other Uncle Wes was sitting beside Eric and receiving a blowjob from Aunt Zoey. The kind of blowjob that would have given a mortal man a heart attack.



“You can do that, right?” Liv asked.



“Yeah,” he said, a bit breathless.



So, after the world stopped spinning, he went ahead and split himself in two.



“You’re sure you’re okay?” Olivia asked again. “She do something to you?”



“I’m sure,” he said.



Of course, her mother had done something to him. And he was afraid that his aunt might be right that he’d never again slide inside another woman without comparing her, unfavorably, to the golden goddess. But he’d never felt so powerful, so confident, so devoid of pain or suffering or fear or anxiety. He should have resented his aunt for what she’d done. But he simply couldn’t. Not yet, at least. All he felt, in that moment, was gratitude.



“Cause it sure looks like she scrambled your brains,” his cousin continued.



Eric laughed. “Maybe a little. But in a good way.”



“Okaaay,” his cousin said, staring intently at him still.



By way of response, Eric grabbed the back of his cousin’s head and pulled her in for a kiss. She offered no resistance. In fact, after she’d had a moment to regain her bearings, she threw herself into the kiss.



Eric almost started to worry that she might suck his soul right out of him.



Olivia was a damn good kisser. He’d known that for years. She had full, soft lips, a nimble tongue, and an artistic sense of timing.



But she’d never kissed him quite like she did just then.



What exactly he’d done to get her to let go like that, to throw herself so completely into the kiss without bothering to tease him, he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, though, he was glad that he’d done it, even though he’d always enjoyed her playful approach. If Eric hadn’t just emptied his sac into her mother, he might have cum right then.



His hands made their way down his cousin’s back to her round little ass. He cupped Olivia’s firm cheeks and gave them a good squeeze. He would’ve liked it if they had a little more give. Like his mother’s ass cheeks, which were big, round, and soft. But, all the same, his cousin’s tight cheeks had more than a little something going for them.



The second Eric then rose up from the couch and stood back, watching. Admired Liv’s ass, small though it might be. And, for a moment, he considered joining them.



But, empowered by the energy she herself had fed him, Eric decided it was time for Zoey to see what her nephew was capable of.



While she was slobbing his uncle’s knob, Eric knelt behind Zoey. He took a hip in one hand and worked her sphincter loose with the thumb of his other. She didn’t stop sucking her husband’s dick long enough to either encourage him or tell him to stop or anything. For his part, Uncle Wes just grinned at him and flashed him a thumbs up.



Good enough.



His aunt’s ass was almost as featureless as an ass could be. Not quite as bad as Annie’s. Nick’s younger sister had no ass whatsoever. But it almost at that point. Undoubtedly, his aunt was proud of that. She’d never have to worry about whether anyone thought that a pair of pants or a dress made her look fat. But, staring down at her meager backside, Eric was filled with disappointment.



Still, while he’d rather have been kneeling behind his mother, he’d rarely been so excited to watch his fat rod stretch a tiny hole so wide. Ruin his ability to enjoy sex with his mother, would she? He’d show her.



So, while his cousin rode him cowgirl, Eric fucked his aunt’ ass. And he fucked it hard.



As he did, he reached between her legs and played with her stiff clitoris. Eric also upon the vast energy within him to heighten her sensitivity. Not so much that she’d be overwhelmed by his efforts. Just enough to make sure the she really enjoyed herself.



Then he poured a little more in.



And a little more.



Any other woman would have collapsed. Or begged him to stop.



But to judge by the way she drove her hips back to meet his every thrust, and by the sounds she made as she tried her best to moan around Wes’ cock, Aunt Zoey was loving every second of it. Her sphincter was spasming against his cock, and her labia were pulsing.



If only he’d fucked her like this in the past. Maybe Eric wouldn’t have spent so many afternoons wondering why she never offered to join him and Liv.



With how timid Wes was, he never would have guessed that Aunt Zoey liked getting fucked so hard. Liked having her ass pulverized.



Meanwhile, Olivia was using the other Eric as a living sex toy, riding him through orgasm after orgasm. His cousin’s climaxes came fast and furious. Each one ended as quickly as it began. None of them were screamers. But, still, it seemed like every other time she slid down his pole, her eyes rolled back inside her head.



All semblance of clarity had left her face. She might as well have been strung out on heroin. Nonetheless, she kept right on going. She worked her hips up and down furiously, impaling herself over and over again on his fat cock.



It was her mother who should have been cumming her brains out like that. But Eric was having trouble heightening one woman’s sensitivity while leaving the other unaffected, and the same stimulus was getting a much bigger response from his cousin than his aunt.



His cousin hardly seemed to mind though. And Eric enjoyed seeing that look of pure bliss on her face. Not so much because it made him feel manly or gave him a sense of accomplishment or anything like that. Just because he cared for her, and had been pained by the look of abject despair on her face earlier.



In the end, Eric brought Zoey to a modest climax. And only one of them. If he’d taught his aunt a lesson, it was one she’d likely enough soon forget.



She did yield up a bit more of her plentiful energy though. So, feeling like a lesser deity, Eric headed over to his mother for one more romp.



#



“Where are you going?” Veronica asked her.



Annie didn’t bother looking over her shoulder at her sister. “Bathroom. Be right back.”



“Don’t take too long,” Veronica replied. “Or we might not wait for you.”



Of course she wouldn’t.



From the moment Veronica had showed up, she’d been trying to steal their grandfather’s attention away from Annie. Wasn’t enough that she already had one guy. After all, he was broken. So what was there to do, but move in on Grandpa Randy too?



Apparently, allowing Annie to feel special for once would have been un-fucking-thinkable.



Their grandfather then said to Veronica, “I think we can probably manage to wait a minute or two, dear.”



That brought a faint grin to Annie’s lips.



But it didn’t really matter. Grandpa didn’t seem to realize the game his two granddaughters were playing. He didn’t necessarily favor Veronica over her. But neither would he protest if Veronica climbed on top of him. Again.



The girl sure did like being on top. Which just fucking figured. She’d always liked being in charge. Ever since she was a little girl.



For her part, Annie liked nothing more than having a man mount her, be it doggy or missionary. Didn’t matter. As long as he was on top, and in control. If he tied her up, spanked her, pulled her hair, and called her names, well, that was fine too. Better than, really. But that was all optional. So long as Annie could let herself go, could put herself in the trusting hands of a confident, powerful, assertive lover, she was happy.



And though he went along with whatever Veronica proposed, their grandfather clearly had it in him to be exactly that kind of lover. Annie was sure of it. She hadn’t gotten him all to herself yet, but she could just tell. He knew that what Annie wanted from him was not the same as what her sister did. And he gave his women what they wanted.



When he’d knelt behind her and made her his bitch, she’d almost died of a heart-attack, so intense had her orgasms been.



All three of them.



She’d attempted to eat Veronica’s pussy while her grandfather made her dreams cum true, but it had been all she could do to keep herself from collapsing in a fit of ecstasy. Keeping her sister from feeling left out hadn’t been a real high priority for Annie just then.



That had been the best ten minutes of her life.



Fuck, if she could just get Grandpa Randy alone for one night, her understanding of sexual satisfaction just might change forever.



She sighed as she eased the bathroom door shut with her bare foot.



Compared to the hardwood floors found throughout the rest of the cabin, the ceramic tiles in the bathroom felt cool beneath her feet. Annie instinctively went up on tippy-toes, the way one did when walking on a white sand beach that turned out to be much hotter than expected. The shock of it almost made her lose control of her bladder prematurely.



As she sat down on the porcelain throne, she forced herself to admit that she didn’t actually dislike Veronica. Her sister could be really sweet sometimes. She was probably the only one who’d even noticed that Annie had been feeling lonely ever since they’d initiated her into the fucked up ways of their fucked up family. Of course, that was part of why it was so maddening that she wouldn’t give Annie any time alone with their grandfather. But perhaps that was just her inner spoiled brat coming out.



Once Nick recovered, he and Veronica would leave. Annie could wait until then to get what she wanted. What she needed. No sense being such a bitch towards her sister. All she had now as her family, after all. That was the way of their kind.



It was also more than a little ironic that she’d spent the morning resenting her mother’s decision to bring her here, only to now resent her sister for getting between her and their grandfather. Her mother, who had undoubtedly noticed the smart-ass comments Annie had made towards Veronica all throughout dinner, had to have been all kinds of amused by that.



Neither of them was responsible for Annie feeling as frustrated and neglected as she did. For that, she blamed her brothers.



And, most of all, the father who should have been there to initiate her.



He should have been there all along, of course. Should have come to her dance recitals and taught her to ride a bike and told her how pretty she looked when she was feeling down. But if he’d at least been there on her eighteenth birthday to do the job neither of her brothers had apparently enjoyed doing for him, well, she’d have forgiven a lot.



Staring at the coarse grain of the wood planks that stood between her and the outside world, Annie found herself starting to laugh uncontrollably. It was all just so weird. She was in a wood cabin on a magical island in a fantasy world, taking a bathroom break from the threesome she was having with her sister and her grandfather, while her mother dyked out with her grandmother in the master bedroom, and her brother lay regrowing his legs in one of the guest bedrooms. And he’d lost his legs in a crazy fight in the lobby of some office building with a couple of immortals, one of whom just happened to be wielding a pair of fucking swords while the other had been more lion than man.



None of that shit made any damn sense.



Even with everything that had happened since she’d turned eighteen, she still couldn’t quite believe any of it. Sounded like the perverted shit people made up and posted on dirty story sites on the internet. Only no one ever had to stop in the middle of having sex to go to the bathroom in those stories. If they ever had to go to the bathroom at all.



This was what her life had become.



And the worst fucking part was that she didn’t hate it. She’d thought she had just a few hours ago. But all it had taken to convince her that this wasn’t so bad after all was the prospect of her grandfather putting her above all the other women in the family. It didn’t matter that the last time she’d seen him he was old and fat and his hair was all white. Nor that he was related to her by blood. All the fucked up shit surrounding her would have been just fine with Annie if she could just have her grandfather all to herself.



After she finished, Annie wiped herself and washed her hands. Standing over the sink, she took a long look at the face staring back at her.



She didn’t love what she saw.



But she also realized that few, if any, high school girls did. That wasn’t something you realized when you first got to high school, but by senior year, it was hard to walk down the hall with tripping over the massive piles of insecurity everyone left lying around.



And though Annie saw room for improvement, she thought that she could objectively say that she was prettier than her sisters and her mothers. Granted, her cousin was prettier than she was. Aunt Zoey too. But they didn’t even really count. The Hardts and the Moodys were no longer one family. Among her real family, at least, Annie was the prettiest. That sounded terrible, but it was true. And sometimes a girl needs to tell herself such things.



Sure, brown eyes were a dime a dozen. She’d have loved to have inherited her father’s gorgeous emerald orbs. But her eyes were big, her lashes full, and her eyebrows perfectly sculpted. Her coffee-colored skin was smooth, her dark complexion unmarred by a single imperfection, save for one birth mark on her right cheek that she actually thought was cute enough that it didn’t count as an imperfection. The diamond stud in her upper lip that was today’s choice of body art looked good. She’d definitely rock that again. While her lips weren’t as full as she’d like, they were naturally a beautiful brick red, and she liked the cupid’s bow shape to her upper lip. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white as ivory, giving her a killer smile. At least, she was pretty sure that she had a killer smile. Guys would tell girls anything to get in their pants, so it didn’t necessarily mean much that she’d always been told she did. But still. They’d said that before, when she’d been wearing a mortal disguise without even knowing it.



Now that she’d learned to release her true self, her facial features were softer, more feminine, and more symmetric. There was less baby fat on her face. Her teeth were whiter and she never had a bad hair day. She basically still looked like the same old Annie, but everything she liked about herself seemed to be that much better, and the things she didn’t like about herself had at least grown a tad bit less shameful.



The new and improved Annie wasn’t perfect, by any means, but she was pretty hot.



And her body had improved even more than her face.



She almost didn’t even hate it. And that was a feeling she wasn’t at all familiar with.



Though she’d never been flat-chested, not since middle school, her breasts had grown even bigger. And perkier. They had just enough sag and bounce that you could tell that they weren’t implants, but they were otherwise firm and well-behaved. They were aware that gravity was a thing, and they made an obligatory gesture in the right direction now and then, but overall they stood high and proud. The stretch marks that had developed when her girls grew in were gone. As was the wobble from her inner thighs. Her hips were smaller than they used to be and her waist was too. By a lot. The net result was that she had more dramatic curves even though she was quite a bit slimmer than she used to be. The little jelly roll guys told her they didn’t even notice didn’t show up anymore, whether she was sitting down or not. Her abs were tight and toned, but not shredded. A lot of guys couldn’t stand a girl with a better six pack than him. Thankfully, Annie wasn’t anywhere near that point. Just nice and trim, leaning towards athletic. The silver pendant dangling from her belly button was cute as hell too, if she did say so herself.



So why the fuck then didn’t the men of this world seem to notice her?



Was there some secret that she was missing out on? Some sort of pheromone women of their kind gave off that Annie hadn’t learned how to secrete yet? Surely her mother would have told about that, if so.



A soft knock came at the window.



Annie’s hands reflexively went to cover her breasts, and she crossed her legs to hide her snatch. It was a wonder that she hadn’t screamed. Which would have been really silly of her, because it was probably just a bird anyways.



Only it turned out that it was her father.



His expressionless face was a few inches from the window.



Those breathtaking green eyes bore into her, and she felt completely exposed. Not just because she was naked either. That gaze made her feel small and vulnerable and alive.



She padded over to the wall and slid the window open.



“What are you doing here?” she whispered.



“Well, `hello’ to you too,” her father replied.



That was no fair. You didn’t just drop in on a girl like that, knocking at the window while she was in the bathroom, naked, and expect her to be cordial.



But the part of Annie’s brain that protested against her father’s smarmy attitude had taken a back seat to the part that was hung up on the fact that her father had come out here, to a part of the court over which his king officially had no dominion, to see her.



Her heart was beating so fast, the thump-thumping it made drowned out the soft whistle of wind in the trees outside and the frogs and crickets and various other icky woodland creatures that you never heard back in Los Angeles.



“You shouldn’t be here. Mom said-”



“Please tell me you don’t believe everything your mother says about me,” he said.



Annie blushed.



Her mother actually hadn’t told her much of anything about him. More or less refused to talk about him, in fact. Not that he had any way of knowing that. The fact that she might have given him the idea that she’d been listening to the words of a jilted lover made her feel, well, not stupid, but more than a little clumsy. Not since the first week of middle school had she felt so socially inept.



“Oh, I see,” he said.



He didn’t explain what he meant by that, but he didn’t need to. He wasn’t the type of guy who needed things spelled out for him.



Which was pretty hot. But it made her feel even more awkward at the same time.



“Anyway,” he continued, “I’m not here on official court business, if that’s what you were going to say. His majesty hasn’t got a clue that I’m here. Which is a very good thing,” he added, with a grin, “because I’m clearly violating the court’s vow to honor your grandparents’ privacy. Best we keep that between you and me.”



“Oh,” Annie said, tried to sound disinterested even as her frantically beating heart sped up further still. “Seems the king often doesn’t have any idea what you’re up to.”



“Sometimes even when he thinks he does, he doesn’t,” her father replied. “But that’s besides the point. The Shadow has taken the night off. It’s your father who wishes to speak to you. To see you.”



“To hold you,” Annie finished for him, inside her head.



Her knees went weak.



She’d told herself that this wouldn’t happen the next time she saw him. That now that she’d seen the best of what the Homelands had to offer, she’d find it easier to admit to herself that her father wasn’t that hot. What a fucking lie that had turned out to be.



Her grandfather had a great body, and he couldn’t have been more handsome. He treated her the way she should want a guy to treat her too.



But Annie had a long history of being turned on by exactly the wrong kind of guy.

######################



Author’s note



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



########################




“And this,” Hank declared, “is the master bedroom.”



Gabriela’s jaw dropped.



It was less a bedroom than a penthouse apartment. And it looked nothing like any apartment she’d have expected Hank to live in. Where she’d have thought there’d be bookshelves and statues, hardwood floors and a earthy colors, she found ultra modern furnishings, the latest hi-tech toys, pristine carpeting, and luxurious furniture. Everything was black and silver except for two green throw pillows on the black leather sofa, the cabinets in the small kitchenette, and the small garden that sprouted up from the middle of the floor just in front of the TV. The fireplace was set back in the wall and enclosed in glass, rather than a stone hearth. Two walls were made of glass, granting them a stunning view of the garden as well as the swimming pool. One of the floor-to-ceiling windows had a balcony on the other side, though Gabriela couldn’t see how they were supposed to get to it.



“It’s…nice,” Gabriela said.



“I liked it better before,” Nina said. “But, yeah, it’s nice.”



The way she said it, you’d never have guessed she was using the same word as Gabriela.



“No dragons,” Eric observed.



“Well, there’s usually one,” Hank said dryly.



“And one little dragonrider,” Nina said underneath her breath.



“Can I get you something to drink?” the king asked.



He tossed his cane aside. It fell into a pocket of nothingness, disappearing from view. It would never be too far out of hand there, Gabriela knew. Eric did the same with his sword.



With a twirl of his wrist, Hank coaxed a bar out of the floor. It too was black and silver. And fully stocked, not only with liquor and wine, but glassware, ice and everything else.



In short order, soft music was playing, a fire was roaring, and they all had drinks in hand. Nina was dancing slowly with herself, rolling what passed for hips and shaking her flat ass. Even in the skimpy red cocktail dress that made it impossible not to notice her, the effect was somewhat less than impressive.



At least, Gabriela would have thought so.



Eric’s eyes had gone wide, and though he was trying very hard not to stare at her, he wasn’t fooling her. Even before he spilled a mouthful of beer down the front of his shirt.



“You know he can’t help it,” Hank whispered, slipping up behind her. His hands encircled her waist so naturally, it was easy to forget how many years had gone by since he’d held her like that. “It’s just how us guys are wired. Once he’s had a taste, he’ll lose interest quickly enough. But for now, she’s the one flavor he’s never tasted.”



Gabriela drew a deep breath.



He was right. She knew that. If any woman could steal her Eric from her, which she very much doubted, it wouldn’t be Nina. She was attractive enough, and even Gabriela couldn’t help but wonder what a woman with nearly as much power, experience, and confidence as Nina must be like between the sheets. But she wasn’t her son’s type. Not anymore. He’d outgrown that phase. These days, he preferred his woman to be built like women. Those flower stem legs wouldn’t do anything for him, and her ass could even fill the palms of his broad hands. Besides, he’d never cared for brunettes. Even before she’d initiated him, Gabriela had never seen his son fall for a woman without blonde hair.



But it sure would be nice if he’d stop drooling.



“Give them some time alone. Let him get it out of his system,” Hank continued.



Reluctantly, Gabriela nodded.



As if she’d heard them, Nina gave her brother a sultry look then beckoned Eric over with a curl of her finger. Gabriela watched as her son closed in on his aunt and began to dance with her. Most respectable institutions would have thrown them out if they’d danced like that in public. Eric had Nina’s dress hiked up, her panties pulled aside, and tips of his fingers gently teasing her glistening labia as they continued to gyrate to the music.



They only kept at that for a minute or so. Then Nina stepped away, pulled the hem of dress back down, and, without a word, spun on a heel and left the bedroom. A single glance over her shoulder told Eric that he was to follow her, and follow he did.



“A bit accustomed to getting her way, isn’t she?” Gabriela asked.



Hank put a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be back in your arms soon enough.” He lowered his voice. “Back in your womb. Doing the job he was born to do.”



Her heart raced.



With an awkward laugh, she said, “For a second there, I thought you were giving me permission to conceive my son’s child.” She let that hang in the air a moment. “Silly, huh?”



“Not really, no,” he replied.



“No, that’s not silly?”



This couldn’t be happening. He was fucking with her. Trying to figure out whether she’d ever thought about having more children. Whether she disapproved of inbreeding. Or maybe just looking for an excuse to laugh at her.



“We’re not supposed-”



“We can do whatever we want,” Hank said firmly, but without any emotion. “Understand, it’s not that I’ve decided to ignore the rules. I’ve chosen to change them.”



Gabriela dropped onto the sofa, suddenly finding her legs incapable of holding her up. A drink appeared in her hand and she swallowed most of it in one gulp.



The king came and stood before her. “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”



She laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve been fantasizing about it every day for months.”



Hank grinned.



“But you knew that,” she said.



Of course he did. Hank’s talent for reading Libidos made Nick’s seem nonexistent. And her desire to feel her son’s child growing inside her was so intense, it was almost paralyzing.



“Your sons,” she said.



“Are the real reason I left you,” he finished.



That hadn’t been what she was going to say, but she was glad to hear it. She still couldn’t quite forgive him. He should have stayed with her until Eric at least had come of age. But better that be his reason than Phil’s offer to serve as Shadow.



“They must be powerful, to go around looking like that.”



After she reached the point where the image of herself that she had in her mind was that of an overweight, middle-aged mortal woman, it had gotten to be easy to keep up the illusion. Took effort to revert to her true appearance, in fact. But, initially, wearing another skin all the time had been hard on her. And it was a modest enough change at first, back before the woman she was pretending to be had begun to age. For his son’s to sustain such exotic transformations couldn’t have been easy.



“They take after their mother,” Hank replied.



“Is that what it’s like?” Gabriela asked. “When we mate with each other?”



Her head spun. What kind of children would Eric give her? Little lions? Giants? Or just even more beautiful and powerful than their parents? Perhaps some son of theirs would one day steal her away from Eric. And maybe, just maybe, she’d want him to. If any man was to do so, at least, she’d need it to be their son.



“There’s a reason they’re all about it in the Eternal Garden and the Shadowed Glade,” Hank said. “It’s only here in the seasonal courts that it’s prohibited.”



“They are?” she asked.



It was a stupid question. He wouldn’t have said so if it wasn’t. But she was too intoxicated by the thought of having her son’s sons to think straight.



So she did the only logical thing and filled her glass back up.



“You’ve never heard of the Unshackled Maiden? Or the Trilateral War?”



When Gabriela gave no other response than sipping her drink, Hank smiled and ran his fingers lightly through her hair.



“I gather I should have,” Gabriela said at last.



The king shrugged. “You’re in good company. Up until a few years ago, I was equally ignorant. Even now, my sister is one of only two others in the entire First Court of Summer who know the tale.”



“You told Annie?”



She’d never been close with Jennifer’s youngest, but Gabriela would have thought that the girl would at least tell one of the Hardts. And if she did, Nick would eventually hear of it. Which would mean that Eric would too.



“Not her,” Hank said. “I meant Flori Hardt. She was the first to know.”



“So she told you?” Gabriela asked.



“Of course not,” he replied. “Nevermind who told who what or when they told them. That’s not important. The point is, long ago, when there was only one court beyond the original two, some `lesser’ immortal dared to dream of walking the Earth. The real one. Not a Playground, or an echo, or a Dreaming, but the home of mortal men and women.”



“So?”



Hank dropped down on his haunches, took her hands in his, and looked her in the eye. Even when they weren’t glowing, those emerald orbs took her breath away.



“They’d never allow that,” he said. “The ancients, who rule over the Eternal Garden and the Shadowed Glade.”



“Why not?” Gabriela asked.



“Mortal desire is a powerful thing. Stronger than you can imagine.”



Gabriela frowned. She’d slept with mortal men. Hardly worth starting a war over.



“Those men weren’t real,” Hank said, guessing her thoughts. “They were but shadows cast by real mortals. When you fed off them, you were pulling their energy across worlds, and hardly a trickle of what they had to offer got through. You’ve no more tasted mortal men than you have felt the warmth of the sun.”



“Oh,” was all Gabriela could manage in response.



“Exactly.”



“What’s that got to do with inbreeding?”



“Each generation of purebreds grows stronger than the one before.”



“You mean inbreds?”



“If you prefer,” Hank said. “Myself, I don’t care for the term.”



“Purebreds,” she said.



The king nodded. “The Unshackled Maiden never took a husband. But she had many sons, each fathered by a previous son. And she Devoured all of them.”



When Hank explained what that meant, Gabriela gasped.



“It’s a surprisingly common practice elsewhere in the Homelands,” he went on to say.



“That’s horrible!”



“Indeed it is,” he said. “But the power it brings is not to be underestimated. Nor is the desire for power found among most of our kind.”



Most. Was she to believe that he was any different?



“At any rate,” he continued, “the Unshackled Maiden grew quite powerful before anyone even noticed what she was doing. Her power rivaled that of the ancients themselves. But there was only the one of her, and many of them. If not for the fact that the children of the sun and the moon are so utterly incapable of putting aside their hatred for one another, even temporarily, the whole affair would have been over before it began.”



“Hence the Tripartite War?” Gabriela said. After Hank touched a finger to the side of his nose, Gabriela asked, “She lost though? This Maiden?”



“Eventually, yes,” Hank said. “Another war soon followed, but it was a civil war. One court became four, and thus Summer, Spring, Winter and Autumn were born. What remained of the Maiden’s bloodline rules over Winter to this day.”



“Lady Winter is her descendant?”



The king nodded.



“And she’s looking to do what her great-great-great-grandmother could not?”



Hank shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Your guess is as good as mine. Whatever her motivation, though, she is Devouring her son’s sons, and she’s far more powerful than any other immortal you or I will ever meet.”



“How does she get away with it? Why haven’t the Eternal Garden and the Shadowed Glade tried to stop her?”



“No doubt they will, in time,” Hank said. “If she gets strong enough.”



“She’s still not a threat to them?”



“Our blood has thinned over time. Though her power has grown immensely, she’s still nothing compared to the ancients, or even the Unshackled Maiden.”



“How do you know this?”



“Is that really important?” he asked.



Gabriela sighed. “No.”



“Is that why you’re so sure that no one will punish us for having each other’s children?”



“A bit more complicated than that, I’m afraid,” he said. “Daphne herself wouldn’t tolerate it, unless I swore fealty to her and became another one of her pawns.”



“Another one?”



“The Matriarch of Autumn, Iva of House Farrier, is basically a puppet for Lady Winter. The same goes for Lady Titania in the Vernal Courts.”



Gabriela’s throat felt tight.



“There’s no choice but to whore ourselves out to some greater power. I chose the devil I know.” He stood back up. “The first Temple of the Sun will open its doors in a few days.”



The sound of that appealed to Gabriela not at all. But Hank assured her that it wouldn’t be so bad. They’d have to bow their heads a whole lot, attend something very much akin to religious services every now and then, and generally kiss a whole lot of yellow ass. But that was it. So long as the sunlit folk felt that they were being treated with the proper reverence, they’d be happy. They order them around or try to control them or anything like that. Just force them to swallow their pride.



And, for that price, they bought the right to do as they pleased. To violate the only rule Hank himself hadn’t already revoked.



“You’re really telling me that I can have his children,” she said. “For real?”



“I am,” Hank said. His hand went to her thigh, and Gabriela felt blood rush between her legs. “Your body is yours to do with as you please.”



Her body.



It sounded so simple when he put it like that. Why should it be anyone else’s business whose children she chose to have?



Of course, it didn’t work that way. They wouldn’t be agreeing to let the sunlit folk come to Summer and demand to be treated like gods if it was.



But it didn’t matter. She was going to be a mommy again, and this time she’d get to hold a baby given to her by her son. That was all that she needed to know. Everything else was just irrelevant, pesky details.



It was her body. And she could do with it as she pleased.



Just then, overcome with joy at the news he’d shared with her, it pleased her to have the father of her beautiful son back inside her once more, reminding her of the magical moment in which she’d conceived Eric. Reminding her of the fist time she’d exercised her power to create life, to bring another immortal into the world.



Her legs slid a little further apart and she placed her hand atop his, guiding him upwards. The skirt that had been wrapped around her turned to smoke and drifted away. The rough skin of her husband’s hand sent shivers down her spine as it traveled over the smooth skin of her bare thigh. It had been too long since she’d felt that.



“You think he’ll be interested?” Hank asked.



Gabriela stared into her husband’s emerald orbs. “What do you think?” Her hands cupped her large breasts and her tube top evaporated the same way her skirt had. “The mighty King Hank of the First Court of Summer can’t resist me.”



“What chance has your poor son got then?” he asked with a smirk.



“Exactly,” Gabriela replied.



The hand that had been slowly creeping towards her hungry sex reached its destination. But all Hank did was rub the backs of his fingers against her swollen labia lightly a few times before leaning closer and reaching up to play with her girls. Gently, he swept her hands aside and took hold of her massive tits, massaging them as his thumbs brushed her stiff nipples.



Her breasts enjoyed the attention. They never got enough, truth be told. But, at that moment, it was her womanhood that really needed to be tended to most of all. The brief stimulation it had received had only increased the sense of urgency.



Fortunately enough for her, Hank’s mouth soon took care of her little problem.



There was precious little the man wasn’t great at, and cunnilingus did not belong on the short list of such things. His lips gently brushed hers, planted soft kisses on her, and pulsated against her clitoral hood. First one, then two, then three tongues invaded her orifices and danced nimbly against her magic button. He licked her clit while tongue-fucking her snatch and running circles around her brown bud. He reached inside her womb and curled his soft appendage back to probe at her G-spot. He pushed her to the brink then eased her back then brought her there again. Over and over and over. All the while, his firm hands continued to play with her breasts. Mouths that didn’t seem to be attached to anything worked at her sensitive nipples while he groped her funbags.



It was more than any woman could take. And Gabriela had been pretty worked up to begin with. It didn’t take long before her cum was running down the king’s chin and her energy was pouring into him like water from an upended jug.



Then Hank gave her an immediate encore.



When Gabriela slithered out of the couch, she felt sure that if she wasn’t careful, she’d float away. Her body was not only spineless, but weightless. She could hardly move, and certainly could not have stood up straight. The high her husband had given her through his expert oral ministrations was unbelievably intense.



Her husband.



Only then did she realize that she’d slipped back into thinking of him in those terms. It was like the betrayal that had caused her to resent him for the better part of two decades had never occurred. Washed away by a couple of really good orgasms.



No, not the orgasms. He’d become “her husband” even before that. His atonement came from him giving her his blessing to have her son’s child.



It was the second greatest gift he’d ever given her, after Eric himself. How could she hold a grudge against him after that?



“It won’t bite,” he said. “Only looks like a serpent.”



Gabriela shook herself out of her reverie. Only then did she realize that the king’s royal scepter was staring her in the face, waiting to be polished. And only then did she realize that he actually sounded nervous. Not merely impatience, but genuinely nervous.



That was so unexpected, it almost made her want to hold him in her arms, press his face against her breast. Did he actually think she’d let him down? Or was he worried that he might fail to impress?



There was no risk of either of those things coming to pass.



“It’s beautiful,” she said as she took hold of his massive cock with both her hands. It was bigger than anyone she’d ever had, even Eric’s. Not by much, maybe, but it was. Especially in girth. “No, not beautiful,” she added. “Majestic.”



Hank smiled, his green eyes glimmering.



It was time to break out her own bag of tricks. Most of them, anyway. There were a few things she had no intention of bothering with. Deepthroating, for starters. With some effort, she could unhinge her jaw and swallow that python whole. And he’d have marveled at the sight of her every inch of his beast deep in her throat, no doubt. But that was all she’d accomplish. All a man’s sensitivity was in his head. So Gabriela wrapped her lips around his foreskin and set to work, keeping his helmet in the front of her mouth while her tongue relentless worked him over. Meanwhile, she stimulated his Libido, made him feel light fingers running down his back and chest, pressed a finger against his prostate, and used ghostly mouths to suck on his balls.



Hank soon filled her mouth with his warm seed. She’d forgotten how mild the taste of his cum was. It was fruity, slightly sweet, but hardly distinctive. He’d once brought home a couple of dragon fruits. If she’d never tasted the things, it never would have occurred to her to say that was precisely what Hank’s spunk tasted like, but that was what came to mind.

Even after she swallowed several gobs of it, his balls kept pumping. He pulled back, let the tip of his cock rest against her lower lip, and shot a few more spurts onto her tongue. Then he withdraw from her mouth entirely and jerked himself vigorously as he covered her from hair to navel in his sticky goo.



As each rope landed on her, Gabriela giggled. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling in the world, but neither was it the worst. And it only took a thought to clean up. More importantly, it made her feel good, powerful, sexy, to know that she could make a man cum so endlessly. It didn’t matter that she knew he was only able to serve up that much spunk through supernatural intervention. That it was the energy he was drawing out of his Libido that he was coating her in as much as it was his sperm.



When he finally finished and plopped down onto the couch behind him, she sat there and led him to savor the image. Just for a few moments, though. Then she shook herself off like a dog that had just come in from the rain. What didn’t go flying simply evaporated.



“Every bit as talented as I remember,” Hank said.



“At cum removal?” Gabriela asked, climbing to her feet.



“You know what I mean.”



“I could say the same,” she replied. “But I’ve never had your talent for empty flattery.”



“You wound me,” he said, draping a hand over his heart.



“Mmm hmm,” she said, straddling his hips. “I’m sure. How ever will you recover?”



He planted his hands firmly on the tops of her butt cheeks and pulled her closer to him. “I have a few ideas,” he said, before pulling her in for a kiss.



When his monster cock forced its way inside her, she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She’d have had an easier time accommodating his fist and his forearm. But after a minute or so to get used to his unnatural size, it felt good. No one filled her up like that.



And no one knew her body like he did. Hank didn’t need to be told when to speed up or slow down, to give it to her faster or harder. His every touch, every kiss, every thrust, was perfectly timed and perfectly placed.



There was a small voice in the back of her mind that argued, rather insistently, that she couldn’t allow herself to think such things. He was not her husband anymore, and he neither was nor ever had been the perfect lover. He was cold and distant. A master dancer going through a routine. To an outsider, his movements achieved a rare and haunting beauty. But to the artist himself, there was no life or passion involved. For him, it was little different than a child reciting their multiplication tables. Hank didn’t love her. Wouldn’t travel to the ends of the universe for her. Wouldn’t risk his life for her.



There was only one, now, who would do that.



Her son.



Yet, with Hank inside her, his many mouths piously worshiping her, and his strong hands holding her, it wasn’t hard to tune that voice out. To let herself get swept away by nostalgia and fantasy. To imagine that there was something more taking place between the two of them. That fate had brought them back together. When it was all over, she could go back to not believing in grand forces like fate. Until then, she’d cling to the illusion.



Those green eyes lied so well.



When they lit up, Gabriela told herself that it was his passion for her that was shining through. No matter that his Libido, as ever, was calm and still. His breathing remained steady and his hard body dry, his brow unmarred by sweat. As long as he looked at her like that, luminescent eyes unblinking, she could believe what she needed to believe.



After she rode him to an intense climax, they took a break for Gabriela to catch her breath and shared another drink. Their glasses were empty again before long though, and then Hank was taking her from behind.



Slowly, Gabriela regained her bearings. No longer did she feel lost at sea in the midst of a typhoon. Little by little, she brought out a few of her own tricks.



“Oh, fuck,” the king panted.



His thrusts grew slower and slower. He lingered longer and longer every time he slid home. The smell of his sweat filled the air.



“What’s the matter?” she asked, giving her hips a wiggle.



“Not a thing,” Hank replied.



“No?” Gabriela asked.



Before he could reply, she attacked his captive member. Her womb reshaped itself, taking hold of him and massaging him from within. With his senses amplified as heavily as they were, she could only imagine what that must have felt like for him.



He gasped, grabbed hold of her hips, and shuddered. His balls danced against her body as he started to climax. Gabriela’s womb quickly filled to overflowing. The king poured his royal cum into her body and his abundant energy into her Libido.



As he did, she herself gasped for air.



Everything she’d ever known or cared about suddenly seemed insignificant. With that much power in her, she could do whatever she pleased. Rule over Summer. Challenge the ancients. Walk along the shores and swim in the seas of the one true mortal realm. Men would worship her, and not just figuratively. Women would envy her and yearn for her and love her, even as they cursed her name.



It had never been like that before.



Hank had never been weak. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But getting him off had never given her such a rush. Not even just a little while ago that evening. Somehow, she’d broken through all his defenses, and discovered just how powerful he was.



And it terrified her.



It was exhilarating at first. And she couldn’t help but wonder if even Nina had ever gotten him to open up quite so fully as she just had. There was a powerful ego boost in that, to be sure. But she couldn’t savor it. Not now that she knew exactly how strong Hank was.



No man should be allowed to amass that much power.



The evening’s activities didn’t end there. But both she and Hank were considerably more reserved after that. And neither dared speak of what had happened.



#



As soon as they got inside the spare bedroom, Eric grabbed his aunt and threw her on the bed. He’d told enough himself so many times in the past that she wasn’t really his type, but a few minutes of her grinding all up on him had his engine threatening to overheat.



It wasn’t anything she did. If he could step back and be objective about it for a moment, he’d have had no problem saying that Liv put her to shame. His cousin could tear up a dance floor. And often did. If his aunt could as well, she hadn’t done much to prove it.



But when she’d rubbed her ass against him, small and shapeless as it was, he’d felt something. Eric had lived in the Homelands long enough to know that the electricity coursing through his body had been supernatural, that Nina was putting her considerable power to use enchanting the shit out of him. But it didn’t matter that he knew exactly what she was doing to him. She’d still done it, and it had still worked.



On some level, he was still Eric of House Moody, son of Hank Fisher. A proud and powerful immortal who could have any woman he desired, whose bed was warmed each night by the stunning goddess who’d given birth to him.



Yet, if only in his mind, he was something else entirely. A starved lion whose belly had been empty for so long that the poor beast had gone half-mad. There was no room for pride left in that desperate creature. No concern about the loss of dignity he’d suffer if he pounced too soon. There was only the relentless, unforgiving, gnawing hunger.



“A little eager are we?” Nina asked, giggling, as she rolled onto her back.



The smile on her face made Eric question precisely who was predator and who prey.



“You look a lot like your father, you know,” she said. “Anyone ever told you that?”



Eric had been about to jump on her, wicked grin or no. But that gave him pause.



“Especially with your eyes glowing like that. Blue’s not so different from green anyway.”



He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.



He decided not to though. That dress of hers was too intact. It was in desperate need of being ripped to shreds and scattered across the room. So, with alacrity that would have shamed the lion he almost believed he was, Eric leapt onto the bed.



Which was suddenly empty.



“Oh, you can do better than that,” Nina said.



He spun around.



She stood now by the door, which they’d left open. Her brown eyes fixed on him, she raised one heel and eased it shut. Eric wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or not, but her dress seemed to have gotten even tighter. Her breasts, so much smaller than his mothers yet so much larger than made any sense for a woman of her build, might as well have been exposed. The fabric clung to her body so tightly, in fact, that he could make out where her mound was shaved bald and where she’d left a tuft of pubic hair.



“You tease,” Eric said. Or perhaps snarled.



“Me?” she asked, looking off to the side and pumping her hair with an upraised palm.



He slipped out of bed, moving slowly and tentatively. One leg swung onto the floor. His weight shifted forward. As he started to rise, the other leg joined the first on the carpeted floor. Aunt Nina still hadn’t disappeared again.



He rushed forward.



And ran right into the door.



“Come on,” his aunt’s voice called from over by the window. “This isn’t even going to be fun, if you make it that easy.”



“Didn’t know I was supposed to be helping you enjoy torturing me,” he replied.



“Well, you are,” she said.



Eric split himself in two.



“Now we’re talking,” Nina replied.



It still took him four more tries before he wrapped his arms around his aunt’s waist and pinned her against the wall. She was laughing her fool head off as he tore her dress to pretty little shreds, covering the floor with scarlet ribbons. She kept right on laughing as he guided his rock hard cock up to her womanhood.



The laughter stopped as he pushed his way inside though.



“Oh, fuck,” his aunt groaned. “You really are your father’s son.”



“Go on,” Eric said, pulling her hair tight. “Compare me to him again.”



“Mmmm, I guess we know who’s in charge here.”



He gave her bare ass a good slap by way of confirmation.



Nina fell silent as Eric used her for his pleasure. She barely even moved. If she knew how to make her body do the things his mother always did for him, she was keeping that to herself. It was almost disappointing. She was tight, and he was burning hot for her, for a release, so it didn’t take long for Eric to finish. But he’d sort of expected to feel the ground tremble, for his mind to fill with images of clouds parting and angels singing and fireworks sparkling. Expected to feel something different. Something unique.



Turned out, his aunt was just another woman. Her cunt was warm and wet and welcoming, the same as any other box he’d ever been inside. No more and no less.



“My turn,” she said, after Eric pulled out.



Then he realized how wrong he’d been.



She had, of course, been playing with him. Humoring him. He’d behaved as if he was in charge, so she’d let him feel like he was. Made herself into a living doll until he finished.



Over the new few hours, his aunt rocked his world. She toyed with him, dominated him, submitted to him, chewed him up, and spit him out. They tied each other up. Decorated each other’s bodies with love bites and hand prints and scratches.



It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.



In part, that was because of how powerful she was. There were times where he’d been fucking something decidedly inhuman. Something much furrier, but with too many humanoid features to really be considered a tiger. They’d made love in the air, defying gravity. Hands and mouths and eyes had floated all around them, playing an important supporting role. The sights, sounds, and smells that his aunt conjured up served as a perfect complement to the physical and metaphysical pleasures his body was trying to process.



But it was also something simpler than that.



Eric had never met a woman who’d proposed trying most of the things they did that night. Had never really thought he’d be interested in them. Might not even be, after tonight. Yet, if only as a one-and-done proposition, just to see what it was like, the kinky shit she introduced him to proved quite enjoyable.



Afterwards, they lay side by side, breathing heavily and slowly healing their wounds.



“I never would have guessed you were into that stuff,” Eric said.



“Maybe I’m not,” she said.



“You and my father don’t play tigers and dragons too often?”



She grinned faintly. “Now you want me to compare you to him?”



Eric chuckled. “Fair enough.”



His aunt reached down and took hold of his semi-flaccid cock, stroking him languidly. “Just felt like something you’d go for. For some time now, you haven’t been sure whether you want to fuck me or fight me. Figured I’d let you have your cake and eat it too.”



There wasn’t much to say to that. So he just leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.



“So,” she said. “It’s a lion, is it?”



Eric laughed. “Guess so.”



“Suits you.”



“Thanks,” he said, a bit unsure of himself. It came out almost like a question.



“Lions and tigers sometimes mate, you know,” Nina said. “The offspring are either called ligers or tions, depending on which was the mother and which the father.”



Eric stared up at the ceiling, a smile on his face. “Learn something new everyday.”



“Have you thought about having offspring?” she asked.



He coughed and sat up. “Are you….”



“Not with me, silly,” she said. “Just making conversation.”



“Not exactly `some weather we’re having’ or anything.”



With a sigh, his aunt sat up too, crossing her slender legs beneath her. “What weather? It’s always warm and sunny and perfect in Summer.”



Eric ran his hand through his hair nervously. Suddenly he felt overexposed. A pair of pajama pants appeared out of nowhere, covering him up. “You know what I mean.”



“It was just a question,” Aunt Nina said, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.



“Your brother asked me the same thing earlier today,” he said. “Forgive me if I find it hard to think that that’s a coincidence.”



“My brother,” she said flatly.



“He is, isn’t he?”



“Yes, Hank is indeed my brother,” Nina replied, rolling her eyes. “That doesn’t mean the sun rises in the east and sets in the west because we conspired to make it so.”



“Why does he care if I have kids?”



Her hand retreated. “That you’d have to ask him. How the hell should I know?”



Eric stared into his aunt’s beautiful face for a few moments. There was anger there, but pain as well. He wished he had Nick’s talent for reading Libidos. Even after having gotten intimate with her, he couldn’t sense much more than that she was incredibly powerful. Which he already knew. It could all be an act, and he’d have no way of knowing.



He didn’t think it was though.



“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand in his and raising to his mouth to brush the backs of her fingers with his lips. “It’s just hard to trust him.”



“Because he lied about Patty and Kurt?”



“Well, there’s that,” Eric said. “But I was thinking more along the lines of abandoning us when we were children. So he could be with you, apparently.”



“Can you blame him,” she asked with a devilish grin.



Eric chuckled in spite of himself.



“I’m not him,” Nina continued. “Nor am I responsible for everything he does.” She took her hand from his and pressed it to his cheek. “I ask if you’ve thought of having children because I’d love to meet them. You’d make a great father.”



“He said that too.”



“Maybe because it’s true,” his aunt replied.



“Maybe,” Eric said.



“What I need to do in order to get you to trust me?” Nina asked.



“I don’t know,” he replied.



A sad expression settled over her face.



Eric grabbed his aunt by the shoulders, spun her around, and pulled her against him. Her back pressed against his chest and the clean smell of her hair filled his nostrils. He rubbed her slender little shoulders and kissed the top of her head.



“He doesn’t even tell me half the shit he’s planning,” Nina complained, her voice bordering on shrill. How that could be so cute, Eric wasn’t sure, but it was. Perhaps because he liked seeing her helpless and frustrated. “Do you know how long he waited to tell me that Annie wasn’t just serving him as Shadow temporarily? That even after I rejoined the court, she’d keep that title?”



“Really?” Eric asked.



“Yup,” she said. “Not that I’m jealous. Better her than me, I say. The less involved I am in politics, the better. But you’d think he’d at least have told me.”



“Yeah,” he replied.



His aunt rolled her head against his shoulder and looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t do that to your mother.” She paused a moment before explaining what she meant by that. “When you become king. If you don’t intend to name her as your Shadow, and you’d be a fool not to, at least tell her. Straight away.”



“Why are we talking about me becoming king?”



“Oh, please,” she said. “We all know it’s just a matter of time. Might not be soon, but the day is definitely coming.”



His heart beat faster.



“Fatherhood, on the other hand….”



#



The door creaked open and footsteps creaked across the floor.



Annie did her best to lie still.



The bed shifted as he sat down on the edge of it. His breathing was steady and soft. The smell of him, that earthy musk with the slightest hint of sulfur and ashes, awakened her Libido. Her dragon, come to her in the middle of the night. But not for that. Not this time.



Suddenly, she felt like a child. And not in the good way that so often happened when she was with him. At that moment, she wasn’t a little princess with a magical ability to make her daddy smile. She was naughty little Annie, the girl who’d gotten in trouble at school for beating up boys and cutting another girl’s hair and talking back to the teacher. The rebellious youth who would do anything just to get a little attention.



“I know you’re awake,” her father said.



Of course he did. It hadn’t taken Annie long to figure out that it was utterly impossible to deceive him in even the smallest of ways.



“Okay,” he said, sounding more amused than upset. “I’ll talk, you listen.”



She adjusted her position. Rolling about in her sleep, trying to get more comfortable, perhaps. Or maybe acknowledging his proposal.



He’d know which, obviously. But she felt like she had some plausible deniability at least.



“Even judging by his version, it sounds like he deserved what he got,” her father said. “So if I was there to see what really happened, I’m sure I’d think you did nothing wrong.”



Interesting.



Annie considered lowering the covers, but decided to continue the charade a little longer.



“But his mother sees things differently.”



There it was. There’d obviously been a “but” coming.



“I’ve always thought she was too soft on him,” her father continued. “But we agreed long ago that I would defer to her when it came to Troy and she to me with Mike.”



Perhaps that explained why they’d turned out so differently.



“So I’ve got to punish you.”



Without so much as bothering to ask her permission, Annie’s pussy started to get wet. It might be different with her actually have done something wrong, if only in Aunt Nina’s mind, but she so loved it when her daddy punished her.



Annie sat up. She didn’t bother feigning a yawn or rubbing the slumber from her eyes.



“Okay,” she said.



Her father gave her a sad grin. “No, not like that, princess.”



“Oh.” Should’ve continued pretending to be asleep then. “Why not?”



“She insisted that Troy take part.”



“Nuh uh,” Annie said, shaking her head and crossing her arms beneath her breasts.



“This isn’t a discussion,” her father said. “I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”



She slammed her fists into the bed. “But Daddy!”

“It’s what his mother wants,” he replied, the firm tone replaced by one of resignation. “I do what I must to keep her happy.”



“I’ll be here,” he said. “You can hold my hand, if that helps.”



Annie snorted.



It would, of course. A little. Given the choice between having him there and not, she’d clearly choose the former. But it shouldn’t have to happen at all.



Now, Mike, she might not have minded taking into her bed. It’d be a lot easier to picture him as their father. She might not even need to do so. But Troy? He was a total jerk. And he didn’t really know what he was doing between the sheets either.



“I really have to?” she asked, trying out her best puppy dog face.



“You really do,” he said, as if he didn’t even see it.



“What’s going to happen now?”



“She just went to his room. And it’s already late. So by the time his mother’s done with him, it’ll be well past everyone’s bedtime. But in the morning-”



Annie slapped her father’s forearm. “Between you and me.”



He raised an eyebrow at her.



“Am I still going to be your Shadow?” Annie asked. “Your little princess?”



“Yes, and yes,” he replied without hesitation.



“I’m not getting kicked to the curb?”



He gave her a “be serious” look. “You’re going to have to learn how to share. Some nights, it’ll be her who shares my bed. Other times, you. Every now and then, hopefully, you both will. But, no, you’re definitely not getting kicked to the curb.”



“Why did you want me to move in with you?” Annie asked.



A sad look fell over her father’s face. If she was the little girl she felt like and she’d been asking him about why they’d had to put the family dog to sleep, he might have had the same exact look on his face.



“You don’t really want to ask me that, do you?” he said at last. “We’ve been together all this time, and not once did it come up. Why now?”



“Because,” Annie said. She slipped her hands under her thighs, where they couldn’t embarrass her by fidgeting with her nightie or with the covers.



The fact that he’d dodged the question was itself already something of an answer. Up until that point, she’d been content to lie to herself, to buy into the romantic fantasy that he’d fallen in love with her the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Might even have believed it, at least some of the time. But now she felt the need to know exactly where she stood with him. And that meant she had to know what had led him to pursue her in the first place.



“You won’t like it,” he said.



Her stomach tied itself in knots.



“I don’t care,” she said. “I still want to hear it.”



He looked away. Annie wanted to grab his smooth chin and turn his face back to her. Whatever he had to say, it would be easier to hear if she could look into those emerald orbs. But her hands staid put beneath her.



“I love you,” he said. “So much it scares me.”



“Now,” she said.



“Yes. Now,” her father replied. “But you need to understand that I’m not just saying that. Some days, I find it hard to think about anything else. You’re always in my thoughts. I’ll be talking to some minor noble and his daughter and all I’ll be thinking is how good her dress would look on you or whether you’d approve of me wearing whatever it is that he’s got on. When I’m alone, I have conversations with you in my mind.”



Annie couldn’t help but smile. Things were about to take an ugly turn, but she didn’t hate hearing these things first.



“Parents always say this, so you might not believe me, but when you’re receiving your punishment tomorrow, it’s going to be harder on me than it is you,” he said.



“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t believe you.” Then, with a sigh, she added, “But I’m sure it won’t be easy on you. And I appreciate that.”



“Point is, I really have fallen for you, Annie. Getting to know you, making up for the time I should have spent with you, playing the role of your father one minute and your lover the next, has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”



The thicker he laid it on, the more scared she got.



He must have realized that, because he finally stopped preparing her for what he was about to say and started saying it.



“I never, ever, take even the smallest risk unless I have a backup plan,” her father said. His green eyes finally met hers and some of the anxiety drained away. “When the stakes are really high, I make sure to have an insurance policy underlying that as well.”



“What’s the difference-”



“Between a backup plan and an insurance policy?”



Annie nodded.



“The one is fully developed, ready to implement at a moment’s notice if need be,” he said. “And it’s designed to achieve the same goal as the actual plan.”



“And the insurance policy?”



Something bad was coming. The long buildup ensured that.



But, fuck, with those beautiful eyes looking right at her, everything seemed like it would be okay. That didn’t make any sense. She knew it didn’t. Yet she fell for it all the same.



“More modest goals,” her father said. “Not yet actionable.” He drew a deep breath, exhaled. “More of a last resort.”



“Okaaaay,” Annie said.



Why did it sound like he’d already plunged the knife in? So far, it all sounded to her like a boring business class or something.



“You were my insurance policy.”



All the air went out of the room.



She wasn’t even sure what he meant by that, but it sure didn’t sound flattering.



“You have to understand,” he said, an urgency in his voice that would only have been slightly ameliorated if he wasn’t talking so fast that his words practically tumbled over one another, “the insurance policy never gets used. I’ve had to run with the backup plan many times, far more often than I’d like in fact, but not once have I ever needed the insurance policy. It’s just for my peace of mind.”



“Great,” Annie said. “So I’m not only a piece on a chess board, but a disposable one.”



“Were,” he said. “I told you. I’ve completely fallen in love with you.”



“Mmm hmm.” She climbed out of bed, suddenly unable to stand the look of his face. Standing by the window, she said over her shoulder, “So what was I to insure against?”



In a small voice, her father replied, “The king exacting revenge for Nina’s treason.”



“Come again?”



“The original plan was for her to lead your brother, and whoever else might have come along, in an assault on the throne. Afterwards, she was to convince Eric to proclaim himself king. I wouldn’t even get involved.”



“Go on,” Annie said.



“If that didn’t work,” he continued, “as it obviously did not, then I was to come in and save the day.”



“Which you did.”



“Only, what Nina doesn’t know is that I wouldn’t even have done that if things looked bad enough. If she died in the initial attack, I’d have let the king finish Eric and the others off, and I’ve had done whatever I needed to do to remain in his good graces. Including using you to get your brother and sister to turn themselves in.”



If she hadn’t been holding onto the windowsill, Annie might have collapsed to the floor. It was a wonder she didn’t vomit. Or cry. Or throw something at him.



Perhaps she would have, if she hadn’t been so stunned.



“You’ve have let them all die,” she said at last.



He didn’t respond.



“And what of Nick and Veronica? Would the king have agreed to let them go into exile?”



“Probably not, no,” he said, voice hardly more than a whisper.



“So you lied.”



“It’s been known to happen.”



Annie whirled on him. “Do you think this is a joke?”



His voice regained its vigor. “Sweetie, do you have any idea how young you sound?”



“I am young, Dad!”



That got her precisely nowhere though. “When you ask someone to tell you everything’s going to be alright, and it’s clear that you’re never going to talk to that person again if they tell you anything else, what do you expect them to do?”



“I don’t know, tell the truth?!”



“How many people have ever told you something you didn’t want to hear, knowing you didn’t want to hear it, and knowing that things would never be the same between you again if they did? One? Two? None?”



She didn’t reply.



“Exactly.”



“That’s not a situation that arises all that often,” she said. “Doesn’t mean no one would.”



“Course not,” her father replied. “Honest people exist. So do Nobel laureates. But in all my time in the Playground, I never met one.”



“Fine,” Annie snapped, turning her back to her father once more. “Your commitment to honesty, or lack thereof, is perfectly average. Congratu-freaking-lations.”



“Baby, don’t be like that,” he said. “It was never going to come to that.”



“Right,” she said, a bit more sharply than she’d perhaps intended. “You’re so clever that your backup plan always works out, even when your original plan doesn’t.”



He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips. She grunted her disapproval but otherwise offered no resistance. And, much as she wished that she wouldn’t have, when he swept her hair aside and kissed her bare shoulder, she felt a sense of relief.



“I understand you’re upset,” he said.



“Hmmph.”



He damned well better.



“But that’s all behind us now.” Another couple of soft kisses cooled her fire further. “And I wouldn’t tell you this if I was still planning to use you like that.”



Annie laughed bitterly at that.



“I’ve never even told my sister. She still thinks that I’d have tried to avenge her death if the king proved deadlier than we feared.”



“And I’m supposed to trust you more after you tell me that you’re even more duplicitous than I thought? Than your sister, whose known you her entire life, suspects?”



“Yes,” he said. “Because there’s only one reason I’d tell you this.”



Annie sighed.



Fuck. She really wanted to disagree with him. But her heart told her that he had a point. That however things began between them, it had grown into something special.



“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” he asked. “Or would you rather be alone?”



She should have said “alone.” But she couldn’t help herself.



#



His mother paced back and forth across his room, fuming. Kurt expected his bed to burst into flames at any moment. Still, he sat upon it, safely out of his mother’s warpath. His legs were folded beneath him and his hands in his lap.



Small target.



“It might not be so bad,” he said softly.



She rounded on him, her platinum blonde locks fanning out behind her. Her irises turned from icy cold to electric blue to golden and glowing in less than a second.



Drawing a deep breath, Kurt pushed on. “Tell me you don’t see a little bit of an upside to being treated like a deity.”



Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d spent the morning trying to convince his sister that they belonged in the Eternal Garden only to come home and have to talk his mother down from the fit of rage she’d gone into when Kurt’s grandfather told her that they were to return to Summer. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the news himself. But one thing he was certain about was that they’d all be happier if his mother made her peace with it, since Grandpa didn’t seem likely to back down.



It wasn’t like they were being kicked out either. They were being sent back to serve as some sort of dignitaries. They were to establish a Temple of the Sun. The people of Summer would worship them. Well, the ancients, really. But he and his family would act as agents of those most exalted ones.



“I don’t want to be a deity,” his mother finally said. “Or a priestess or a diplomat or any of it. Fuck Summer. Fuck Hank Fisher. Fuck House Moody and House Hardt and every last damn one of them. I want to stay here and be a mommy.” She placed her hands over her belly. “I want to see your child grow inside me. To welcome it into this world and hold it in my arms and raise it to be a proper sunlit noble that would do your grandfather proud.”



“And you will,” Kurt said.



“Not anytime soon,” his mother replied in a huff. “How am I supposed to carry out my duties as Head Priestess from my labor bed? With a squalling babe at my breast?”



“When we return here then,” he said.



Those golden eyes narrowed, piercing right through him.



More than anything in the world, Kurt wanted to hold his mother. To wrap his arms around her and run his fingers through her hair and feel the tension fade away. To hear her sigh and see her smile. When she got like this, it felt like something was wrong with the world. Like a storm was brewing, one that would wash everything into the sea. Like there was a black hole had opened up and would soon suck everything into it.



“Grandpa said-” he began.



“I know what he said.”



Kurt swallowed the rest of his words.



The ancients appeared to be taking the arrangement rather lightly. But if they could deliver a few newborn immortals to be raised in the proper sunlit fashion and returned as envoys to Summer, where they’d preach values and customs of the Eternal Garden, things would change. Their family would be rewarded. And other families, seeing that, would send their children and grandchildren to serve as priests and priestesses. Eventually, his mother could step down and the three of them could return to Solopolis. And then his mother could have his children. As many of them as she desired. Olivia could too, if she’d ever make up her mind about whether she wanted that or not.



How far down the road that would be, though, was anyone’s guess. Their grandfather wasn’t technically commanding them to leave, but it was clear that he was disappointed in them. In him and Liv most of all, but their mother too, for allowing her children to turn out the way they had. If they earned the family a place in a middle ring of Solopolis, closer to the center of the city, their grandfather might welcome them back with open arms. But anything short of that would mean coming back to the same awkwardness they’d suffered for the past few days. That wasn’t the worst fate in the world, but once they were in a position to change it, it would be hard to pass up the opportunity, no matter how badly his mother wanted to get away from Summer again.



“You’re probably glad, aren’t you,” his mother said with a sneer. “Can’t wait to see your little girlfriend again.”



“No,” Kurt said.



And, as he said it, he realized he meant it.



It had only been a few days, but he’d already forgotten about Patty. Well, not forgotten about her, exactly. But gotten over her. He wasn’t sure whether he had stronger feelings for his mother or Olivia, but he’d have chosen either one of them over his cousin in a heartbeat.



“And your sister’s probably dying to see Eric again.”



“I doubt it,” Kurt said. Whenever his name came up, which wasn’t often, she looked like she wanted to either cry or kick someone in the balls. “Probably won’t even speak to him.”



“Hmmph.”



Of course, his mother’s foul mood had nothing to do with Patty or Eric. It was the ghost of Kurt’s father that made the room feel so cold. Though she never spoke of him, his mother couldn’t stop thinking about her late husband. Kurt was sure of it.



Not that his loss had been easy for either Kurt or Olivia to accept either. If Kurt was coping best of the three of them, that wasn’t necessarily saying much.



His mother was really devastated though. She’d never really talked about the Eternal Garden or her father or any of that. Granted, it hadn’t been that long ago that Kurt heard about Summer for the first time. But his sister, who’d been initiated years before him, had the same impression. Up until their father died, their mother had never shown any interest whatsoever in returning here, nor expressed any objection to living in Summer. They were here to help his mother get her mind off the father of her children, not because she hated her niece and nephew or any of Summer’s other children.



Of course, Kurt knew better than to say any of that to his mother.



“I won’t say you can’t see her,” his mother said, tugging at the braid she’d taken to wearing at her father’s insistence. “But I’ll tell you one thing, mister, if you think you can run away with her again-”



“Ma,” Kurt said. “I won’t.”



“-I’ll disown you,” she finished, as if she’d never been interrupted. “I don’t want to hear you using the `l’ word either. And, this should go without saying, but if you even think about getting her pregnant, I’ll rip your cock off and shove it down your throat.”



“Patty means nothing to me,” Kurt said.



“Yeah, right,” his mother said.



Kurt ran a hand through his hair. What could he do to reassure his mother? He didn’t dare try to touch her. Her Libido was throwing off energy like a bonfire emitted heat. That wasn’t unusual, but the energy radiating from her took a different form than it usually did. Rather than pulling him towards her, it pushed him away.



“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said.



“You weren’t, obviously,” his mother snapped.



“Guess not.”



His mother glowered at him, apparently trying to decide if he was mocking her or not. She must have decided that he wasn’t.



“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, all of a sudden. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.”



Kurt hesitated a moment before responding, “It’s okay. I understand.”



She came and sat on the bed beside him. He hoped that she couldn’t tell that this made him nervous. As she laid a hand on his thigh though, a jolt of electricity shot through him and his cock began to stir. That was it. One little touch and it was like there’d never been any fear or anxiety or anything. The tiniest little hint of a possibility of getting intimate with his mother wiped the slate clean.



“You’ve been so good about everything,” she continued, her hand traveling closer and closer to his erect penis. “With me, and with your sister. We’re so lucky to have you.”



“No more than I am you,” he said.



A smile spread across her face before she lowered her head and put a smile on his face.



#



The Hardt family castle was vast and imposing on the outside, but cozy and comfortable on the inside. With a flick of her wrist, Veronica raised the portcullis and strode into the barbican. From the outside, it would appear that she’d have a long way to go from the squat, defensive structure to the main keep. Once inside, however, she kicked off her shoes, climbed a short flight of stairs, and joined her family in the living room.



“Didn’t expect you all to still be up,” she said. “Or clothed, at any rate.”



Her grandfather stood beside the recliner, a tumbler of whisky in his hand. Her mother and grandmother sat on the sofa, drinking tea. There was about as much sexual tension in the air as might be found at a funeral.



“What?” Veronica asked.



“Where’s your brother?” Grandma Flori asked politely. Too politely. Like she was making small talk with a friend of the family rather than talking to her granddaughter.



“You guys are freaking me out,” Veronica replied.



“Everything’s fine, dear,” Grandpa Randy said, walking over to her and kissing her on the cheek. “Can I get you something to drink?”



She sighed and said, “Not at the moment, thanks.” She went and sat on the couch beside her grandmother. “Nick’s…with Patty.” That took longer to get out than it should have, but at least the bitterness she felt inside hadn’t been reflected in her voice.



“I’m sorry, sweetie,” her mother said.



Veronica almost laughed at that. Who was their mother to pretend to feel bad for her? She was as responsible as her sister for the pain and suffering Nick brought her.



Inadvertently, though.



Not for the first time, she forced herself not to blame her mother. As far as Veronica could tell, the woman only had eyes for her own mother. Whatever she felt for Nick, it wasn’t anything that Veronica should feel threatened by.



“Was she in one of her moods?” her grandmother asked.



“Worse,” Veronica said with a sigh.



She got the message. When Patty got the attention that Veronica selfishly wanted all to herself, it was usually because Nick sensed that she needed cheering up.

Lately, though, Patty needed a lot of cheering up. She’d hardly even known Kurt. The girl acted like she’d lost the love of her life.



Of course, that was no more fair than blaming her mother for Nick’s lingering crush on her. It couldn’t be easy to be the only one around without a special someone to warm her bed each night. Veronica couldn’t stay upset at Patty if she tried.



It was just getting to be awfully lonely being Nick’s girl.



“What’s that mean?” her mother asked, a bit alarmed.



So Veronica explained.



“That little shit,” her mother said.



It took some effort to keep from laughing hysterically. Her mother hadn’t wanted her and Nick to risk their necks helping Patty back when they’d thought she’d been kidnapped. Now, though, it was like Patty was no less her daughter than Veronica and Annie were. The way it had always been, growing up.



On some level, that warmed Veronica’s heart. She liked the idea of the Hardts and Moodys getting along, perhaps even becoming one big family again. They’d never ceased being one, so far as she and her brother were concerned. It was time their mothers came round to the idea as well. But at just the moment, Veronica wouldn’t have minded if her mother showed a little more concern for her feelings and a little less for her sister’s.



“The other one really tried to get him to apologize?” her grandmother asked.



“Yeah,” Veronica said.



“Interesting.”



What was this? Were they now discussing how deep the rot in House Fisher ran? Did no one care about Nick leaving Veronica high and dry, yet again?



“Probably just a ploy to get you all to trust him,” her mother said.



Apparently, that was precisely what they were discussing.



“On second thought,” Veronica said to her grandfather as she plopped her feet up on the coffee table, “I think I would like a drink.”



He nodded and slipped into the kitchen.



Of course, she could have easily conjured up a drink herself. But it felt nice to know that someone cared about her wants and needs and would go out of his way to tend to them.



“Even if not,” her grandmother said, “that wouldn’t change anything.”



“I know,” her mother mumbled, looking duly chastised.



Veronica’s head spun. Even with all of the Hardts, save Annie, living under the same roof for the past few months, Veronica had yet to get used to the sight of her mother wilting like that. She’d never been the disciplinarian in the house. That had been Mom-Gee. But she’d been firm when she needed to be, and Veronica had never seen her chew on her words like that. That she looked of an age with her own mother made it even harder for Veronica to wrap her head around. The two could easily be mistaken for sisters, rather than mother and daughter. To look at them, that is. The way they interacted with one another left no doubt that Grandma Flori had changed the other woman’s diapers.



No matter how long they lived, how often and deeply they loved and were loved, they’d always be children. Every one of them. Scared and needy and desperate for approval.



That definitely held true for her. But it also undoubtedly did for Nick as well. She wanted him to be around more, to be the center of his universe. But he was just as fragile and insecure as she was. He just dealt with it differently. And she’d known that when she’d fallen for him. It was no one’s fault but her own if she was having trouble sharing his affections with all the other women in their life.



Her grandfather returned with her SoCo lime. Veronica smiled at him sweetly as she took the glass. “Thanks, Grandpa.”



“My pleasure.” He kissed her forehead before returning to his post by the recliner.



He never sat down when there was something important that had to be discussed. Usually, those conversations had revolved around Annie. Veronica hadn’t heard her sister’s name once yet, but it finally occurred to her what was happening. The clan elders were debating how to react to the king’s violation of the only rule he’d yet to repeal.



And why wouldn’t they be?



If Veronica hadn’t been so caught up in lamenting her brother’s tendency to try to make everyone happy, the very same thing would have been on her mind.



“But if he’s really gone and allied with Daphne, what in Summer can we possibly do about it?” her mother was asking.



Daphne. She’d heard that name before.



Right. Her grandfather had once told her to ask her grandmother about it. She’d never gotten around to doing so.



Better late that never. “Who’s Daphne?”



Both women stared at her.



“Oh, sweetie,” her mother said.



“Do you want to take this one?” Grandma Flori asked her daughter.



“No, you’re better at this,” she replied.



So Veronica got herself a history lesson. Her grandmother told her about how Lady Winter sought to forge an alliance with every king or queen with any potential for greatness. Not just in the First Court of Summer, but all throughout the outer Homelands. The Matriach of Autumn was her creature, as was the Matriarch of Spring. If Hank was in bed with her now, it was only a matter of time before he became Patriarch of Summer.



She also told her about how Phil had found Daphne too unsavory to work with. The first thing she demanded of all her proteges was that they engage in inbreeding, and encourage their subjects to do so as well. No one knew for sure why she did that, but Veronica’s grandmother thought it was so that her own sins wouldn’t stand out. If she could erode the norm against inbreeding to the point that no one anywhere in the Homelands objected to the practice, her own hold on power would be that much more secure.



“I don’t get it,” Veronica said. “She can’t really care about legitimacy?”



She’d mostly studied American politics in college, but Veronica had taken a course on authoritarian politics. She knew that elected leaders weren’t the only ones who had to worry about popular legitimacy. Particularly if their ability to crush an uprising was limited.



But, from the sound of it, Daphne’s was not.



“It’s not her own people she’s worried about,” Grandma Flori replied.



Then she explained about the Unshackled Maiden and the Trilateral War. Though it was ancient history, long since forgotten about in what had once been called the breakaway courts, it was still remembered by many in the Eternal Garden of the Sun. It had been there that Veronica’s grandmother had heard the tale. And the fact that history seemed to be repeating itself would not be lost on the powers that still ruled there.



“If that’s true,” Veronica said, “why would Hank want an alliance with her? Sounds like that would only make him more of a target.”



“He might not know that,” her grandmother replied. “If and when the Garden and the Glade decide to move against her, you can be sure that she’ll try to cast it as an imperial war, an act of oppression, rather than what it will be in truth: a punitive mission targeted against her. She’ll have us all believe that the first immortals are seeking to bring their bastard progeny to heel, that it’ll be in our interest to rise up as one against them.” She took a calm sip of her tea, as if she was discussing something less than a war that would consume all the Homelands. “If she succeeds in amassing enough power to rival the ancients, though, it won’t be all of us `lesser’ immortals who get to go back to the true mortal realm. Just Daphne, and perhaps a few of her favorite children.”



“So,” her mother said, breaking a stretch of silence, “the question is, will the king listen to us? And if not, will we make an enemy of Daphne simply by trying to talk to Hank?”



“We need to know what he’s got planned before we decide whether to try to talk him out of it,” Grandma Flori said.



“Sounds like we need to talk to Annie,” Veronica said.



#



It wasn’t voyeurism.



Barely even eavesdropping.



Nick had just been checking up on his sister. That was all. From a distance, yes, and without her knowledge. But he hadn’t seen or heard anything, even though he could have if he’d wanted to. His grandmother might never have taught him how to do those things, but Nick strongly suspect that it was possible. It would’ve taken a little more effort, maybe, but it could be done. That he’d chosen to do no more than monitor his sister’s Libido for any sign of anger or pain or fear therefore had to say something for him, didn’t it?



All the same, he’d felt dirty and ashamed of himself. He’d been reminded of the first time he’d seen his father’s glowing green eyes as they watched him and Veronica, and reminded as well of how his father had told him shortly after their induction ceremony that Nick was a lot like him. More so than Eric, who everyone seemed to expect to be king one day.



True, his father had meant to be seen that night. Had been looking to intimidate them. What Nick did before leaving his father’s palace was different. He’d just wanted to make sure that Mike was treating Patty right.



His father had probably started out the same way, though. Perhaps even still thought he had good reasons for doing the things he did. For lying about Patty and Kurt, for fathering children with his sister, and for holding Annie hostage. Which, so far as Nick was concerned, was what he was doing. She was a willing enough participant, to be sure, but that didn’t change the fact that no one would dare attack the king in his home the way they had his predecessor so long as Annie lived with him.



Just a little earlier that very same night, Nick had nearly convinced himself that they’d all been worried about Annie for no reason. What a fool he’d been.



It had taken one quick scan of his father’s Libido as he’d passed by him in the hallway for Nick to know that the king was hiding something, and that thinking of Annie reminded him of it. That didn’t tell Nick what the king was hiding, but he didn’t need to know that in order to guess that Annie was their father’s protection from him and Eric.



That brief moment had shocked Nick so badly that he’d nearly fallen out of the closet in which he was hiding. Not because he didn’t think that his father was keeping secrets, or that he was using Annie, but because he had no idea that he could read men’s Libidos.



But, then, his father had read his that day on the yacht.



And as his father had said, they were ever so much alike.



So, after convincing himself that he’d inherited a few too many of his father’s characteristics, and after getting uncomfortably aroused by the sensations he felt in Patty’s Libido while she and their brother went at it, Nick finally teleported out of the royal palace.



He still didn’t go home though.



At least, he didn’t go inside. Instead, he stood atop the battlements of Castle Hardt, trying to wrap his head around what he’d done and who he’d become. Trying to convince himself that it wasn’t so bad that he’d violated Patty’s privacy. That it didn’t mean that much that he had more of his father’s talents than everyone, including himself, had realized. Trying to do those things, and failing miserably.



There came a point where he realized that he couldn’t be alone with his thoughts any longer. He’d only feel worse. Convince himself further that he was treading a dark path. With the best of intentions, sure, but that didn’t mean the destination was worth reaching.



He almost talked himself back out of going to Veronica once he was inside though. It wouldn’t be right to wake her up because he was in a shitty mood and wanted to hold her in his arms, to hear her tell him that he wasn’t a bad person just because he’d spied on Patty after leaving her. Bad enough that he’d left her alone back at their father’s place, and that she’d probably been waiting for him all this time.



Of course, she’d be even more upset if she awoke in the morning to find her bed empty.



Round and round and round, his thoughts ran. On the hand this, on the other hand that. He’d always been a damned over-thinker. Every girl he’d ever been friends with had told him so. As had his sisters, back before they’d become subjects of romantic attraction and thus no longer capable of dispensing advice to help him with his girl trouble.



He bet his father was an over-thinker too.



Enough.



Nick drew a deep breath and crept down the hall towards his sister’s bedroom. His heart raced and his head filled with thoughts far less depressing than those that had occupied his mind for the past hour. What might Veronica be wearing? Which shampoo might she have used? Would she smell of vanilla and spice or like flowers?



Should she be mad at him? Or just glad to see him?



Sucking their grandfather’s dick, as it happened.



Her door was closed, but there was hardly any sound coming from her bedroom, so he’d simply walked in without thinking to knock. And found her on her knees beside the bed, mouth too full to speak. Their grandfather turned to see who’d interrupted them and a look of panic settled over his face.



“Sorry,” Nick said, slipping back out of the room and closing the door behind him.



Why was he hard as a rock?



Sure, he’d been halfway there when he’d opened the door. The mere thought of his sister in sleepwear did that to him. But seeing his sister with another man had finished the job.



Twice in one night, he’d gotten hard while spying on his sisters. He hadn’t set out to do so, not for that reason anyway, in either case. Yet there it was. He was that guy.



He went up to the kitchen and poured himself a drink while he waited for his sister to come apologize. Or demand that he apologize. Or whatever.



But she didn’t.



Which was fine. If she didn’t feel like chewing him out, so much the better. And it wasn’t like she owed him an explanation for hooking up with Grandpa Randy. They usually spent the night together, but they didn’t always. And he hadn’t told her when he’d be back, or even if he’d be back that night. If she found herself in the arms of another man, that was his own damn fault for leaving her.



That was what he told himself before he knocked down the first SoCo lime.



By the third one, he started to see things differently. Started to get angry. Started to resent the fact that, without even thinking about it, he’d starting pouring a drink he’d only acquired a taste for because of her. She hadn’t waited up for him. Fine. She could at least take the fucking dick out of her mouth long enough to speak to him, if only for a minute.



Another two drinks, though, and he was back to thinking that there was no reason to be upset. Back to being disgusted with himself, for various reasons.



“Hey, sweetie,” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs.



He waved to her limply before pouring another shot.



“What’s up?” she asked, padding down into the kitchen.



The black babydoll looked damn good on her. It obscured her six pack but not her full breasts. Her shapely legs seemed to glow in the moonlight drifting in through the window and the way she had her hair tied up, like she hadn’t had the time to really put it together, was far more alluring than made any sense.



If Vee could stray, why couldn’t he?



Granted, she probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t done so earlier. So that line of reasoning was more than a little flawed. But with several shots of liquor in him and a raging hard on tenting his pajama pants, it passed muster.



“Nothin’ really,” he said.



“Why are you drinking alone?” she asked as she walked up to him.



Electricity ran through his body as his mother’s hand came to rest on his hard abs. Pre-cum leaked out the tip of his cock. The warmth of her soft hand against his skin felt, at that moment, like the greatest pleasure he’d ever experienced.



Why didn’t he spend more time with his mother? She was beautiful, no matter that she had harder features than his sister and a prominent nose that some might call beak-like. Those full lips, lush eyebrows, long lashes, dark eyes and gorgeous skin more than earned her the right to be called “beautiful” rather than “handsome” or any other less flattering term. And she had one hell of an amazing body, however muscular it might be.



“No reason,” he replied.



“Nickie,” she said.



She never called him that. Not since, what, middle school? Somewhere around there. In Mom-tongue, that was the opposite of calling someone by their full name.



“I’m fine,” he said, running a few fingers through her hair.



It was thick and soft and radiant. It was also blacker than black, with the exception of a handful of grays that he only noticed when she stood close to him and had light shining on her. Both Veronica and Grandma Flori had the same hair beautiful black hair, but it stood out so much more on his mother. Not only was her hair longer than either that of her daughter or, especially, her mother, but she had thicker eyebrows too. That shouldn’t have made any difference, but it made it harder for anyone who looked at her to fail to notice how thick and luxuriant her hair was.



“Come to bed then,” she said. “Grams won’t mind.”



“Okay.” He kissed her forehead.



And then downed the shot he’d just poured.



His mother made no move to leave the kitchen. She stared at the empty shot glass, frowning. When she did that, the lines etched in her face became clearer. Particularly around her mouth, but the ones at the corners of her eyes stood out too.



Those lines should have marred her beauty in Nick’s mind. But they did not. They were but a visible reminder of how experienced she was, and that she was a real flesh-and-blood woman, no matter how much she looked like a living fantasy.



“Seriously,” she said. “What’s wrong?”



“I don’t want to talk about it.”



His mother sighed. “If we do this, are you going to be with us, or lost inside your head?”



Nick didn’t reply.



Hopefully, they’d keep that from happening. Help him forget about all those unwelcome thoughts. But he couldn’t, with a straight face, tell her that he wouldn’t be distracted.



“Personal or political?” she asked.



He raised an eyebrow at her.



“Is this about you and Veronica or does it have something to do with your father?” Her fingertips brushed his cheek softly, taking his breath away. “Do the rest of us need to be worried or should I just pretend that I don’t see you brooding like some vampire heartthrob in a movie pitched at teenage girls?”



Nick laughed. “The latter.”



“So we’re done sulking then?” she asked. One smooth, meaty thigh slipped in between his legs and gently slid back and forth, generating sweet friction against his cock. That would have felt good if he was wearing denim or cotton. In silk, it felt amazing.



“We are,” he said breathlessly.



With a thought, he removed the alcohol from his system.



“Good,” his mother said, withdrawing her leg.



She went up on tiptoes, kissed him lightly on the lips, then settled back on her feet. Without another word, she took him by the hand and led him up to her mother’s bedroom.



As they ascended the stairs, his eyes instinctively went to his mother’s ass, and there they remained. Her backside was absolutely, unquestionably, perfect. Before he’d laid eyes on his mother, the real her rather than the mortal version he’d known growing up, he’d never have guessed it was even possible for an ass to look that good.



His grandmother was in bed, lying on top of the covers, reading a paperback bestseller. Though he doubted that she actually needed them, she wore a thick pair of reading glasses. If not for her impossibly proportioned figure, racy lingerie, and youthful face, she could almost be mistaken for an ordinary grandmother.



Unlike his mother, his grandmother’s face probably was better described as handsome than beautiful. Her tomboyish haircut only further defeminized her. In contrast, her figure was plenty womanly. Her breasts were bigger than Veronica’s, and the tight bustier she wore made sure that you’d notice. She didn’t have the same insane waist-to-hip ratio his mother did, but she was much thinner than a woman with that kind of bust should have been. The legs encased in sheer black were not as shapely as his mother’s, but they were still plenty nice to look at. Of course, most legs were, when thigh highs were involved.

“Look who I found,” his mother said.



Grandma Flori smiled as she marked her page and put the book on the oak nightstand beside her. “And here I thought you were going to come back with Stephen King.”



“Wasn’t available.”



“Guess he’ll have to do, then,” his grandmother replied, looking him up and down.



It was just for comedic effect, he knew, but Nick still felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Her critical eye scrutinized every inch of his body, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she found him adequate. After all, she’d married a man who, despite his mild-mannered temperament, had a hyper-masculine form. From his thick if not unruly pelt to his ridiculously perfect muscles, Grandpa Randy was as manly as men got. Nick was proud of his muscle tone and his washboard abs, but he wouldn’t have minded a little more bulk.



“Yeah, he’ll do,” she said again, sounding disappointed.



Nick chuckled nervously. You’d think she hadn’t seen exactly what he had to offer before. That they hadn’t gotten intimate several times over the past few months.



“Looks can be deceiving,” his mother said.



“Hey, now.” Nick gave his mother’s divine ass a playful smack. “Let’s not get carried away. It was funny at first, but the joke’s starting to wear thin.”



“He’s so cute when he blushes,” his mother said to his grandmother, her dark eyes locked on his. She kissed him on the cheek then went and climbed into bed beside her mother.



“Anything important happen after Vee left?” his grandmother asked as Nick slipped out of his pajama pants and climbed onto the foot of the bed.



“Not really,” Nick replied.



“I’m not sure he’d tell us if it did,” his mother told Grandma Flori.



Two pairs of eyes with irises like chips of onyx honed in on his erection.



“He does look a little eager,” his grandmother remarked.



“A bit, yeah,” his mother agreed.



“We might get more out of him if we see to that first.”



His mother nodded to herself. “Probably right.”



If they teased him any longer, Nick might have exploded. The air crackled with sexual energy. The gorgeous mother-daughter team, which just so happened to include his mother, made the perfect duo. They looked alike in so many ways, yet differed in all the right ways. One had a killer lower body, the other an absolutely divine pair of breasts. One was shy, tender, and affectionate, the other aggressive, passionate, and dominant.



There was nowhere he’d rather be than in his sister’s bed. But if he couldn’t be with her, it was hard to imagine how he could do any better than being shared by these two.



Fortunately for him, the games ended there. Moving almost eerily as one, they crawled towards him from either side, looking like a pair of black jaguars.



As his mother’s full lips formed a seal around his swollen head, Nick gasped. He exhaled slowly, shuddering, and put a hand on the back of her head. She moved slowly, deliberately, teasingly, allowing him to savor every lap of her tongue. Meanwhile, his grandmother went to work on his balls. At first, she only licked his sac. But soon enough, she started taking his testicles in her mouth, one at a time, and humming on them.



Unsurprisingly, he didn’t last long.



His mother seemed ready to pick right back up where she’d left off, but Nick had a better idea. He split himself in two and the four of them formed a daisy chain. He performed oral sex on each woman while simultaneously receiving it from both of them.



The contrast between their approaches, and their distinct tastes, made Nick’s head spin. His mother was seducing him tenderly while his grandmother was assaulting him, doing her best to overwhelm his senses. The younger woman tasted faintly of toffee, the other of wine.



Nick did his best to satisfy each woman’s unique needs the way that worked best for them. That basically meant giving back what they were dealing out.



With his mother, his movements started off slow and teasing then gradually built up to a more insistent and focused attack. In contrast, he threw everything he had at his grandmother. He tongue-fucked her snatch and her ass at the same time while a third tongue picked at her clit like a musician would his guitar.



As if that wasn’t enough, Nick conjured up a few extra hands and mouths to help him pleasure other parts. He played with the women’s breasts, licked and sucked their nipples, kissed their hips and thighs and spines and ass cheeks, and massaged their feet. The first time he’d seen his grandmother perform those tricks, it had freaked him out. But he’d quickly come to think that he’d previously been missing out on the full potential of sex.



His grandmother was the first to reach her climax, but before her spasms died, all four of them were cumming profusely. They used their powers to prolong each other’s orgasms, the way Grandma Flori had taught them. The magical moment of shared ecstasy stretched on for an eternity. The world melted away and they escaped the prisons of their physical bodies, existing together only on some higher level.



Afterwards, they all took a quick break to get some air and clean themselves up. But it didn’t last long. None of them spoke. The hunger in their eyes would not allow it.



When they got back to it, they experimented with all manner of positions, conventional and exotic. For a while, Nick sat at the foot of the bed and watched the two women play with each other. Then he knelt behind his mother and ate her out while she did the same for her mother. For a time, he fucked Grandma Flori in the ass while his mother first licked then fisted her pussy. At one point, Nick grew a second dick and filled both of his mother’s holes while she went down on his grandmother. He even split himself in two again and had anal sex with both women while they sixty-nined.



They were all glowing by the time they took another break. Each of them had experienced a half dozen orgasms, or more, and they’d fed each other absurd amounts of energy. The only bit of clothing any of them wore by that point were his grandmother’s stockings. And he’d long since torn holes in them to suck on her toes.



Laying in the middle of the bed, Nick had one arm around his mother and one around his grandmother. They lay on their sides, their heads resting on his chest.



All was right with the world.



His problems would come back to him before long. But they kept their distance for the time being, even though the ritual for warding them off had come to a stop. Nick was flying too high, feeling too good, to let anything bother him.



“Do me a favor,” his mother said at one point, breaking a long and pregnant silence.



“Anything,” Nick said.



“Take Veronica out tomorrow. To the mortal world.”



“Okay,” he replied, a little confused. “Any reason why?”



“You love her, don’t you?” his grandmother asked.



Uh oh. He was in for it now. And he was going to get it from both sides.



“I do,” he said.



“Do you have any idea how close you are to fucking it up?” his grandmother asked, pinching his nipple as she did.



“Ow,” he said, jerking away as best he could. Which was to say, not much at all.



“I thought I taught you better than that,” his mother added.



“What? What I do?”



“It’s what you haven’t done,” they both said.



“You’re a sweet guy, Nick,” his mother said. “And we all appreciate how you’re always there for us when we need you. But Veronica’s starting to feel like she’s just one of many women you care about and look after. You need to show her that she’s special.”



“I can do that,” he said.



“Don’t take her to some movie she wants to see,” his grandmother said. “Don’t ask her what she wants to do. Do something you want to do. Something you’re passionate about. It doesn’t have to be big. Just something to show her that you’re not just interested in pleasing her, the way you do with every one, but that you want to share youself with her.”



“O-okay,” Nick said. “I’m sorry?”



The two women shared a laugh.



“You don’t have to apologize,” his mother said. “Just do what we told you.”



“I will,” he said.



Where was this coming from? Why did his mother want him to inject more romance into his relationship with his sister? Not long ago, she’d tried her hardest to pretend to disapprove of the fact that they were plainly in love with one another.



If they cared so much about his relationship with Veronica, why had they taken him into their bed? Did either of them think Veronica would be pleased to learn that he’d spent the night having a threesome with their mother and grandmother?



That was silly of him, though. Just because they wanted him to start down the right path didn’t mean they couldn’t also want to have some fun with him first. Unless things were already at the breaking point between him and his sister, there was no real contradiction between their actions and their words.



“But I thought we weren’t supposed to do this,” he continued.



“Don’t be stupid,” his grandmother said.



“The rules have changed,” his mother said. “I don’t know how I feel about that, but they have. And there’s no sense denying that you and your sister were pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable as it was. If you’re going to go down this path, you better do it right, because if you break my daughter’s heart, I’m going to make sure you regret it.”



Nick tried to keep his mind from shutting down. One second, she was one of his many lovers, interested in nothing more than the pleasures of the flesh. The next, he was his mother, giving him advice on how to keep his relationship from unraveling. Then she was Veronica’s mother, giving a speech that usually came from a girl’s father, precisely as she had with so many of her daughters’ mortal boyfriends. It was almost too much to take in.



It was also incredibly sexy.



Sometimes, he forgot she was his mother. Being reminded of that kept things exciting.



“You can stay overnight, if you want,” his mother added. “That’ll only have you gone for a few hours as far as we’re concerned. But be back by early afternoon, our time. We’ve got to decide what to do about your father.”



“What to do about him?” he asked.



He agreed that it was time to have that conversation. But it took him by surprise. He’d thought he’d have to convince the others that the king wasn’t to be trusted.



“Did you hear him, or anyone else, say anything about a woman named Daphne? Or Lady Winter?” his grandmother asked.



“No,” Nick said. “Who’s that?”



They gave him what they said was the short version. It wasn’t all that short.



“Definitely didn’t hear anything about that,” Nick said. “But I can tell you he’s hiding something. And it’s got to do with Annie.”



He explained about how he’d read his father’s Libido, though he conveniently left out the part about how he’d been hiding in a closet at the time, spying on Patty.



“Not sure that tells us much,” his grandmother said.



“He’s always hiding something,” his mother said.



Nick sighed. It had seemed significant at the time. But his mother had a point. For all he knew, it didn’t even mean that Annie had something to do with the secret he was keeping. It could just be that she was the person he was keeping the secret from. Which might be nefarious, but, then again, it might not be. Lovers kept secrets from one another, and got anxious about those secrets being discovered.



“What we really need to know is how he expects to deal with inevitable fallout from his inbreeding,” Grandma Flori said. “Word’s going to get out-”



“I know,” Nick said. He’d come to the same conclusion earlier that evening.



His mother raked her nails gently across his scalp. “You and your sister are gonna have to talk to Annie.”



#



Her father did not, in fact, hold her hand.



But that was okay with Annie. She hadn’t needed him to. His presence alone was enough. Being able to look him in the eyes and know that he’d be there with her when it was all over gave her the strength that she needed.



It turned out that Troy had more imagination than she’d given him credit for. But what he didn’t have in abundance was resolve. Or, perhaps, cruelty. One way or another, he’d given up on trying to make her suffer pretty quickly. She’d refused to give him any kind of reaction. Hadn’t been entirely successful in that regard, but at least she hadn’t cried. And though he’d gotten a few whimpers from her, not once had she screamed.



After her brother saw that she could take whatever he might dish out, he’d changed course completely. He apologized profusely, both for what he’d said to Patty and for what he’d done to her just a few moments ago to punish her for locking him in the bedroom the day before. As if that wasn’t weird enough, he then did his best to seduce her.



That had disgusted her almost to the point of retching. But at least it was better than what had come before. Marginally.



In the end, her brother gave up on that too. For the last few minutes of the whole awkward exchange, and thankfully it had only taken a few minutes, Troy had simply focused on nothing more than getting his rocks off. After he deposited his sad little load inside her, he left, head hung low and tail tucked between his legs.



At that point, she cried.



But her father was there to hold her in his arms. So it was okay.



“I’m so sorry you had to do that,” he said as she crawled up into a ball in his lap and he held her tight, rocking her back and forth.



She wanted to say that it was alright, that she’d actually expected it to be worse, but she was sobbing so heavily that she couldn’t speak. It hadn’t been as horrible as it could have been, but it hadn’t exactly been pleasant either. And, now that it was over, all the emotions she’d refused to feel were coming out.



“Next time you have a problem with him, you come to me, okay?” her father said.



Said in any other tone of voice, those words might have sounded like he thought she had no one to blame but herself for what had just happened. The way he said it though, she didn’t take it that way. He was just offering to make sure Troy got what he deserved without Annie having to worry about Aunt Nina getting back at her.



“I will,” she managed to choke out.



“I’ve got a special treat for him as it-”



“No!” Annie said.



He looked at her, eyes wide.



“He just,” she began. What? Didn’t mean to hurt her? Of course he did. Still, she wanted it all over. He was altogether too pathetic to be worth the bother. Any retaliation would only make it seem like he had more power over her than he did. “Don’t. Just don’t.”



“If you say so.” Her father kissed her forehead.



The waterworks slowed to a halt. She felt drained and weak and numb. There was no anger or pain or sadness left. To feel any of those things would have taken more energy than she had to spare. All she wanted to do was sleep.



“Lay down with me,” she said.



Without a word, he carried her up to her quarters. They slipped under the covers and Annie got into the fetal position. Her father wrapped himself around her like another blanket. Feeling safe and warm, she quickly drifted off to sleep.



When she woke, he was gone, but he’d left a handwritten note on the nightstand. In glittering green ink, it explained that her father had to go “earn his keep.” That was what she called it when he held audience, sitting in his throne on the beach for hours and listening to lesser nobles seek redress for the various grievances they had with one another, or evaluating petitions for asylum from those who’d fled other courts. She’d sat beside him one afternoon, and nearly died of boredom. Afterward, he told that was rather ironic, as it had been one of the more interesting sessions.



One of these days, she probably ought to learn something about running the court. The Shadow ought to be able to fill in for the king if he was otherwise disposed. But, so far, she’d done all of nothing to earn that particularl title anyway. Her father had teased her about that a few times, to be sure. Those first few weeks, he’d often threatened to find a way for her to be useful, particularly when she teased him. But, despite those threats, he’d yet to do so. And that was just fine with her.



She’d asked him what his duties had been when he’d served as Phil’s Shadow. “Mostly wetwork,” he’d responded. She suspected he’d only said that to be dramatic, but it had gotten the point across. His job hadn’t been a pretty one. But, thankfully, there didn’t seem to be much need for that now. With fewer edicts to enforce and no plausible rivals to the throne, at least for the time being, her father had no real need for someone to carry out the same functions for him as he had for the previous king.



So Annie did what she did most afternoons and laid out by the pool, sunbathing.



“Hey there, gorgeous.”



Annie opened her eyes. Her aunt was settling down into the lounge chair beside her, wearing the tiniest little string bikini, the hugest pair of sunglasses, and drinking a margarita from one of those mucho glasses that looked more like fishbowls.



She should have said something in response. But her mothers had taught her that if you didn’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.



“Thought you’d be with His Majesty,” her aunt said.



“It’s not easy, passing up an opportunity to listen to all the minor nobles complain about being harassed by the Bravos.”



“Is that where he told you he is?” Nina asked. “Interesting.”



Annie slowly sat up straight. “What do you mean?”



“What? Oh, well, if that’s where he said he is, that must be where he is.”



She narrowed her eyes at her aunt. “Where else would he be?”



Nina shrugged and sipped at her margarita.



“Fine,” Annie said. “Don’t tell me.”



The bitch was probably just fucking with her anyway. Figured she hadn’t suffered enough for what she’d done to Troy. No doubt he’d told her that Annie hadn’t cried for him once.



“I’m just a little surprised, is all,” Nina said.



Annie almost laughed to herself. The Fishers were supposed to be patient. Yet here her aunt was, giving up already, after Annie had refused for all of five seconds to rise to the bait.



Maybe she needed to take a few lessons from Randy Hardt.



“I’d have thought he’d tell you that he was meeting with representatives from the Eternal Garden of the Sun.” Nina slurped loudly at her drink. “After all, if everything goes through, your cousins will be returning to Summer. Your aunt, too.”



“What?”



Why wouldn’t he tell her that?



Of course, her aunt could be making things up. But that was a strange thing to lie about. It wouldn’t take Annie long to figure out the truth.



“He really hasn’t mentioned any of this?”



Annie’s cheeks burned. She wanted to slap her aunt in the face. Did she have to rub Annie’s face in it? Who did she think she was fooling with that Little Miss Innocent act?



She’d heard enough. Without another word, Annie ceded the pool to her aunt. It wasn’t right that the bitch not only got to ruin her day twice, but scare her away from the pool besides. Nonetheless, the last thing she felt like doing just then was seeing Nina’s stupid face, so she retreated to the safety of her quarters.



There, she tried to distract herself first by playing video games then by working out. When neither of those succeeded in taking her mind of what Aunt Nina had said, she grabbed a bottle of wine and drank it by herself while soaking in the bathtub.



Not long after she opened her second bottle, there came a knock at her door.



“Go away,” Annie howled.



The door opened softly and she heard him walk in.



She should have locked it. Not that there was a lock in existence which could refuse him. Maybe he’d have concluded that she really didn’t want to see him if she had though.



“Hi princess,” he said, standing just outside her bathroom.


######################



Author’s note



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



########################




As they climbed the hill, making their way up towards the Temple of the Sun, Veronica felt a growing sense of dread. The temple itself might well have inspired awe, under different circumstances. The simple beauty of its classical architecture, the stark contrast of all that bright gold against pale marble, to say nothing of its prominent position on the highest point of the island, certainly demanded a measure of respect.



But she finally saw what her grandmother undoubtedly had sensed from the beginning. That its presence marked a dramatic and irrevocable change in Summer.



Grandma Flori hadn’t said as much, of course. But what she hadn’t said spoke volumes. When Veronica had asked, not for the first time, whether it was good news that the king had turned to Eternal Garden rather than Daphne, her grandmother had replied in the affirmative, but with as little enthusiasm as possible. An unspoken “but” had dangled on the end of her words.



It shouldn’t have taken her until now to see why.



It was just that the past few days had felt like a dream. She’d caught the baby fever that seemed to be going around, and her brother hadn’t hesitated a moment before telling her how much he’d love to start a family with her. From the moment Nick’s seed had taken root in her garden, Veronica had felt like a new woman. And the world around her felt new as well. As if it had been restored to some prior state of glory. The Homelands were suddenly filled with promise and possibilities. No longer did she see an unforgiving realm that had torn their family apart and nearly killed her brother. Rather, she walked amidst a magical paradise, a fantasy realm that she’d reluctantly leave behind in a matter of days, only to return once her children were grown.



Ever since she’d discovered who she was, she’d dreamt of bearing Nick’s child. Of living with him as his wife, rather than his sister. And now, after telling herself for so long that she shouldn’t indulge in such hopeless fantasies, they were coming true.



Thanks to her father.



How could there be anything wrong with that?



Even after their grandmother had failed to show any sign of relief over the news of Daphne’s noninvolvement, Veronica had refused to let go of that optimism.



That they were all required to visit the temple and worship the Illuminated hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. Nor had Veronica thought much of the fact that they could only go in ones and twos. Sure, the idea of treating Kurt and Olivia as deities was a little absurd, but if that was the price for the future she’d never thought she could have, Veronica would gladly pay it. It was all just for show, anyway. A few hoops to jump through. Nothing more.



With every step nearer the temple that she took, though, Veronica found it harder and harder to deny the obvious truth. The king might have done what he thought was best, and he might even be right to do so, but they’d soon learn that the protection of the Eternal Garden did not come cheap. The whole business of worshipping their sunlit cousins was a whole lot more serious than she’d first assumed too.



“Don’t be nervous,” her grandmother said, laying a hand on Veronica’s shoulder.



“I’m not,” Veronica lied.



“You wish your brother was making this trek with you.”



Veronica looked away.



She understood why he wasn’t. Or she thought she did, anyway. Nominally, their mother wanted some time alone with Nick. Wanted to coach him in what to do, and what not to do, as Veronica’s time got closer. But that wasn’t really it. Though pregnancy was a briefer affair for their kind than it was for mortals, there was still plenty of time for that talk. No, the truth was that her grandmother wanted to be there with her when she went before their new sunlit overlords. And since they were only permitted to enter the temple one or two at a time, that meant that she and her brother would have to make the journey separately.



“I understand, dear,” her grandmother said.



And that was the last that either of them had to say about the matter.



They topped the hill in silence, and Veronica felt the air go out of her lungs. Beautiful as the Temple of the Sun had seemed from a distance, it was indescribably so up close.



A pair of obelisks flanked the arched entrance to the temple, each bearing a golden sunburst the size of her head. The paving stones underfoot were similarly purest gold. Veronica had never seen so much of the precious metal at once.



“Welcome, children,” a voice called from deep inside the temple.



It occurred to Veronica that the temple was surprisingly dark. There were no torches or windows or anything. At least, not that she could see. Perhaps it was different farther in.



Zoey slowly came into view. She looked every inch the High Priestess. Her white silk gown was trimmed heavily with cloth-of-gold. A belt of thick, golden medallions encircled her waist. Then there was her necklace and her earrings, the many rings she wore upon her fingers and her toes, the diadem perched atop her head, and the bands around her willowy arms. It should have seemed excessive to Veronica. Opulent. Decadent. Yet somehow, the woman’s attired struck her as utterly appropriate, as though anything less would be unbefitting a goddess of Zoey’s stature.



The woman Veronica had once considered her aunt held out a hand, wrist limp and fingers hanging like branches from a tree. She tilted her head back and softly glowing eyes stared down a slender nose at them.



Grandma Flori was the first to her knees, but Veronica was not far behind. They kissed Zoey’s hand then waited patiently for the High Priestess to signal for them to rise.



“You are with child,” she said to Veronica, pressing a hand against her midsection. What little light there was in the hallway winked out as the High Priestess closed her golden eyes. She drew a deep breath before saying, “Your daughter will be strong and healthy.”



That should have filled Veronica with joy. But the warm hand pressed against her bare skin felt wrong. Menacing. It bore her child no blessings.



“Come inside,” Zoey said, turning on a heel and retreating into the darkness.



Veronica looked a question at her grandmother, who merely nodded.



Heart pounding, she followed the High Priestess into the bowels of the temple.



#



“You really don’t mind?” Patty asked.



“Not at all,” Eric replied, giving his sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze.



The bigger question was whether their mother cared. But he didn’t tell Patty that. Besides, though their mother wouldn’t be crazy about having to visit the temple by herself, she’d understand how hard it would be for Patty to see Kurt again, to bend the knee to him and pretend he was a divine being. Seeing as they were forbidden from entering the temple more than two at a time, either Patty or their mother was going to have to go alone. And it wasn’t fair to ask Patty to bite that bullet.



“Guess we should do it, then,” she said.



Eric nodded.



As they headed up the hill, he found himself marveling at his sister. Not long ago, he’d have found it hard to imagine her looking and sounding so calm at a moment like this. Of course, he’d have had a hard time imagining a moment like this, but even so. Due to the strange workings of time, his sister had technically spent considerably less time in the Homelands than he had. Yet Patty was no less changed by her time here than he was.



Granted, there wasn’t much reason for her to be anxious anyway. Kurt would undoubtedly be glad to see her. As he hoped Olivia would be to see him, despite the fact that he’d given her plenty of reason not to be. Yet he knew his sister, and if Patty was feeling as calm about this as she let on, he was a purple elephant.



“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Patty asked. “They’re our freaking cousins.”



“I know,” Eric said. “Illuminated. Could it sound more pretentious?”



His sister snickered. “Not much, no.”



As they drew closer to the temple, though, they fell silent. Eric had to admit, it was more than a little impressive. It all still struck him as incredibly odd, but he could see how someone who didn’t remember Aunt Zoey making a complete fool out of herself during family softball games, who hadn’t given Kurt countless wedgies or stuck gum in Liv’s hair, would greet whatever beings dwelled within this temple as divine.



“Hey, guys,” Olivia said as the topped the hill.



Patty looked at Eric as if to ask, “Can you believe this?” then started giggling.



“Oh, sorry,” Liv said, stepping out of the shadows. Her voice deepened. “Welcome, children,” she announced.



“That’s more like it,” Patty said.



Eric looked his cousin up and down. She wore white silk and cloth-of-gold and tons of jewelry. Her skin had turned the color of her mother’s, complete with metallic glint. She looked exactly as he remembered her, and yet so too did she look like precisely the type of otherworldly being that ought to inhabit the majestic temple.



“Is this the part where we bow?” Eric asked.



Olivia shrugged.



“This whole thing some big joke?” Patty asked.



“If you ask me, it is,” Liv replied. “But unfortunately, the official answer is different.”



“The others are taking it seriously?” Eric asked.



His cousin nodded. “I think Vee left her feeling like she’d seen a ghost,” she said. “My mother’s really getting into the whole High Priestess thing.”



“And…Kurt?” Patty asked.



Olivia sighed.



“Even worse?” Eric guessed.



Liv laid a finger on her nose.



Eric put an arm around his sister. She flashed him a quick grin, patted his chest, then pulled away. Watching her draw herself up to her full height made Eric want to laugh. The girl didn’t even reach five feet. But she still managed a measure of dignity.



“He’s waiting for us inside,” Liv said. “Follow me.”



With that, she spun and headed deep inside the temple. Eric and Patty followed.



The hallways were dark, but when Olivia spread her hand out before her, a golden beam appeared, as if she was a human flashlight.



Every ten paces or so, their cousin would take what seemed to Eric to be a random turn. Every intersection, every stretch of hallway, looked exactly the same. On and on they went, hanging random rights here and inexplicably turning left there.



After a seemingly interminable length of time, they rounded a corner just like every other and found themselves in an open courtyard. Marble columns reached like outstretched hands into the sky and slabs of pure gold lay underfoot, but the darkness was gone. The sun shone so brightly overhead, in fact, that Eric had to cover his eyes.



The gold paving stones didn’t help anything either.



Near the center of the courtyard, a winged Kurt hung in midair. His head was thrown back and his eyes closed. It looked like he was praying.



“For fuck’s sake,” Eric muttered under his breath.



Olivia hid a snicker behind her hand.



But their other cousin was less amused. His eyelids snapped open and he glowered at Eric as he settled softly to the ground. For a brief instant, Eric was certain that Kurt was going to conjure a flaming sword and charge at him.



If he did, he’d have been sorely disappointed with the outcome.



However, he simply approached them slowly, a look of grim determination on his golden face. And the closer he got, the less smug and confident Eric felt. He started to wish he was somewhere else. Or else that the little twerp would at least blink.



“It’s good to see you again, Patty,” Kurt said, his unwavering gaze still locked on Eric.



Beside him, his sister went to her knees.



Eric considered remaining upright, but not for long. After enduring staring back into his cousin’s golden eyes for a second or so, he too knelt.



“We are not worthy to be in your presence, Illuminated One,” Patty said.



To Eric’s ear, it almost sounded like she meant it.



“Rise,” he said, beckoning them to their feet with a gesture of his hand.



Eric noted that their cousin hadn’t taken issue with Patty’s claim.



“Kurt,” Olivia gently admonished.



He silenced his sister with a curt glance.



Olivia took Eric’s hand in hers. “Come. Let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy.”



Eric started to protest. He found himself somewhat less than enthusiastic about leaving Patty alone with Kurt. No matter that Patty could probably take him in a fair fight, even if he wasn’t quite the scrawny bean pole he’d been back in the Playground. It wasn’t a physical altercation that he feared. Though their cousin had changed even more than he or Patty had, and not for the better, his sister still carried a torch for him. He was sure of it. She was crazy about Mike, and presumably wasn’t hoping to rekindle things with Kurt. But whatever residual feelings for him she still had left her vulnerable.



Liv didn’t give him a choice though.



She gave his hand a sharp little yank, and he nearly lost his feet. If she’d put any real force behind it, he’d have gone soaring across the courtyard.



“Play. Nice,” she said to Kurt as she led Eric back towards the hallways.



Eric looked over his shoulder and saw his cousin place a hand gently on Patty’s shoulder before drawing her in for a hug.



Maybe the kid had just gotten a little creepy after drinking too much Kool-Aid. Religious zealots were always uncomfortable to be around. That didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t safe to be around. Besides, hadn’t he just been thinking to himself that Kurt would be glad to see Patty? And wasn’t that obviously the case?



“He’s not the same as he used to be,” Liv explained once the courtyard disappeared behind them. “But he’s still a good kid.” Her voice lowered. “Sometimes, I wish I could have the old Kurt back.”



“Only sometimes though?” Eric asked, sensing a subtle shift in her Libido.



Liv cleared her throat by way of response.



She’d always gone a little weak in the knees for a guys with a lot of confidence. Most girls did, to some extent. But it was a real soft spot for Liv.



One he’d exploited ruthlessly, back before his mother had opened his eyes.



It wasn’t hard to see how this new, ultra-intense Kurt might get his sister’s juices flowing. If he were to at her the way he had Eric back in the courtyard, she’d completely lose it. Turn into a living sex doll for him to use as he pleased.



Without any warning, his cousin rounded on him and slammed the heel of her fist into his chest. Eric crashed into the nearest wall so hard he feared the marble slab would fall down on top of him. His body ached as it never had before.



“By the way,” Olivia said, “You’ve got some fucking nerve.”



“What?” he asked, holding up his hands defensively.



She stood over him, hands balled into fists, but she made no move to strike him again.



“What’d I do?” he asked.



“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked.



“I’m sorry,” he said. “I…I didn’t mean to-”



“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sure you didn’t.”



Eric tried to get up, but his back spasmed and he fell back down. Damn, but the girl could pack a punch. Maybe their sunlit cousins really were a cut above the rest of them.



It was worse than a back spasm, he realized. At least one of his ribs was cracked. Breathing shouldn’t hurt like that. He pulled energy out of his Libido, mending the bone.



“Didn’t want you to see me crying,” Eric said after he gathered up enough energy to speak again. “Okay?”



She didn’t respond.



“I know, it’s stupid,” Eric said. “You deserved a real goodbye. But all I could think of at the moment was that you couldn’t see me like that.”



“`There’s no crying in baseball.”‘



“Exactly,” Eric said.



Olivia shook her head. “Sometimes, in my crazier moments, I think that men are just hairy people. Then I remember you’re really a species all your own.”



“I am sorry,” Eric said as he finally climbed back to his feet.



“You should be,” Liv said.



“If I’d known how strong you were….” Eric said.



His cousin helped him wipe the dust off his shirt. “A likely story.”



“Seriously, though,” Eric said. “Are we so far beneath you?”



Olivia sighed. “Kurt thinks so.”



“He does?”



She shrugged. “I don’t know. Certainly sounds like it, most of the time.”



Eric fell silent.



“I didn’t ask for this,” she said, turning away. “Well, in a sense, I did. I’ve wanted to come back to Summer for a while. But not like this.”



“What’s this really all about?”



“Who knows,” she said.



Olivia herself did, for starters. Eric sensed it in her Libido. A flash of guilt tinged with fear. She knew something that she wasn’t going to tell him.



Eric rested his hands on his cousin’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Must not be easy, being caught in the middle.”



She choked out a sound that was equal parts disgust and agreement. Laying a hand atop one of his, she said, “You have no idea.”



“You don’t have to be, though.”



“Is your mother carrying your child?” Liv asked.



The question took him off guard. But he wasn’t about to lie to her. Not after the way she’d laid him out earlier. He only had so many bones to break, after all.



“Yes.”



“Mmm-hmm,” his cousin said.



“Liv.”



“Don’t, Eric. Okay? Just don’t.”



“That doesn’t mean-”



“Stop,” she said. “You’ve got your family. I’ve got mine. And, in the Homelands, family’s all anyone’s got. Nothing anyone can do about it.”



He’d never known his cousin to be so fatalistic. Had never known her to take much of anything seriously, come to think of it. He decided that it didn’t suit her. No more than the god complex suited his goofy cousin, who’d never been fanatical about anything other than baseball before they’d reached Summer’s shore.



“It’s good to see you again,” she said quietly.



“Yeah.” He kissed her golden hair again. “Same here.”



His cousin leaned back against his chest. “I’m going to have Kurt’s baby.”



Eric slid a hand down from his cousin’s shoulder to her flat stomach.



“No, I’m not pregnant yet,” she said. “But that’s the plan. After we establish the temple, some other lesser nobles will come and take over and we’ll return to the Eternal Garden. Then my mother and I will conceive.”



“I see,” Eric said.



He should have said more, probably. Should have told her that she shouldn’t go back to the Eternal Garden. Told her that her place was here, in Summer, with him. But he couldn’t do that. He belonged to his mother.



As she’d said, he had his family and she had hers.



Eric wished Uncle Wes was still alive. Maybe all of this would still be happening, but at least Liv would have someone other than Kurt. Someone who didn’t think that the rest of them were insects. Someone decent and kind and modest.



“No sense fighting it,” she said.



He didn’t reply.



And with that, Liv had apparently decided she was done talking. She took him by the hand and led him to a sitting room, where they didn’t do a lot of sitting.



#



“Is everything okay?” Patty asked her cousin.



The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Though it hadn’t been a week since the two of them had run off together, that might as well have been a lifetime ago. He wasn’t her lover anymore. Nor even a friend. He was a sunlit lord. An angel. A representative of the Eternal Garden of the Sun.



And she was just Patty.



Kurt gave her a puzzled look. She almost expected him to ask what the fuck she was talking about. But his face softened a moment later, and he took her hand in his.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About everything.”



“It’s okay,” she forced herself to say.



That didn’t really answer her question, but it was a whole lot better than the reaction she’d feared her question might elicit.



“Didn’t mean to come on so strong just now,” he added. “Eric just really gets under my skin sometimes. Thinks he’s so much better than everyone else.”



It took everything Patty had to keep from laughing in her cousin’s face.



He wasn’t entirely wrong. Eric had always talked down to Kurt. Nick too, if not quite to the same extent. But at least he didn’t think his blood purer than everyone else’s.



“How…does this work?” Patty asked.



Kurt looked at her softly, but didn’t respond.



“What exactly do you want from us?”



He looked away. Where a great and powerful angel had stood just a moment before, she now found her cousin, scared and confused. His skin remained golden, but his eyes turned blue as they had once been.



Something stirred in Patty, and she remembered why she’d fled Summer with him in the first place. She reached up and pressed a hand to his cheek.



His eyes snapped back to her, and she thought he might pull away. Or smack her hand down. But he didn’t. Just pressed his own hand atop hers.



“It’s not really about what we want,” he said. “This was my grandfather’s idea.”



“I thought it was my father’s,” Patty said.



Kurt shrugged. “Maybe it was. Grandpa didn’t really explain. At any rate, we’re here because he wants to curry favor with the ancients. And, for whatever reason, helping to establish a temple in the outer Homelands will apparently do that. I’ve no idea why.”



It was the same all over the Homelands, from Summer to the Eternal Garden. Those with power rarely bothered to explain anything to those without. And however privileged their position here might be now that this stupid Temple of the Sun had been erected, Kurt and his family were pretty far down in the pecking order back in the Eternal Garden.



“Mostly, my mother wants to go back to the Garden and start a family,” Kurt said. “Liv would probably prefer to stay here, I think. She’s not entirely sure what she wants, though.”



“And you?” Patty asked.



Kurt looked her in the eyes. “You’ve met someone else.”



She wished he hadn’t asked that. But after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.



“It’s all over you,” he said.



He probably knew she was pregnant then too. Even though their kind carried children to term much more quickly than mortals did, it would still be a little while before she started to show. Physically, that was. Her Libido was another story.



Still, her cousin didn’t say anything about the child growing within her.



“What’s he like?” Kurt asked.



Patty sighed. “Perfect, really.”



Her cousin winced, but the expression came and went so fast that she’d have missed it if she’d so much as blinked. “Good,” he said, voice warm and soft. “I’m glad to hear it.” He ran his hands through her hair. “You deserve no less.”



“You’ll meet him, sooner or later,” Patty said. “Every one of us has to come pay our respects, right? Even the king and his children?”



Kurt nodded.



“His name’s Mike,” Patty went on. “We have the same father, but his mother is my Aunt Nina. The king’s sister.”



Nick and Veronica thought that’s what all this was really about. Giving the king cover for violating the one taboo their kind had. It seemed all of them were carrying purebred children now, though. That made it hard for Patty to remember that the rest of the Homelands still frowned on that. Used a different word for it. The way mortals did.



“So I guess he’s my brother, even though he’s also my cousin,” she continued.



“It’s the closest connection that counts,” Kurt said. “At least, my grandfather says that’s how we see it in the Garden.”



Patty took note of his choice of words.



“We.”



He was truly lost to her. If there’d ever been any doubt, it was gone now.



Not that it mattered to her. Not really. She was happy with Mike. And it no longer struck her as odd to think of herself as a member of House Moody. She’d never felt so close to Eric. There was always Nick and Veronica too. They saw her as no less a sister just because she belonged to a different house. Wasn’t as though there was anything missing from her life, in other words.



Still, she couldn’t help feeling a little sad.



Much as she’d dreaded this visit, in the back of her mind, she’d still hoped that maybe she’d find the old Kurt waiting for her. That he’d have seen the folly of his grandfather’s bigotry. Given up on finding his place in Solopolis now that he’d returned to Summer.



No such luck.



“Anyway, he’s easy enough to tell from his brother,” she continued. “Troy’s black.”



She’d almost added that Mike was a dragon. But he wasn’t anymore. Not often, anyway. Increasingly, he wore his natural form. Since their father had given his blessing for them to return to the Playground, asking only that they wait until the child was born before leaving, Mike had started to see himself differently.



His mother was less enthusiastic about the idea. But to his credit, that didn’t matter to Mike. If their father wasn’t king, Mike might not even have cared what he had to say.



“I see,” Kurt said, sounding a bit confused.



Patty started to explain, but stopped. Her cousin didn’t seem terribly interested in learning about her new lover and his family. Understandable enough, really.



“How’s your mother?” she asked.



“Anxious to leave,” he said.



“Already?”



Kurt turned away from her and took a few steps nearer the center of the courtyard. “This feels as unnatural to us as it does to you,” he said.



Somehow, Patty doubted that.



But it had been a stupid question. He’d already told her that Aunt Zoey wanted to leave, that she was eager to start a family. Which presumably meant bearing his child, come to think of it. In her haste to change the subject, Patty had all but asked for him to take that impatient and condescending tone.



She came up behind her cousin, running her hands over his back. The smooth silk of his white tunic felt strange, but the hard muscles beneath did not.



“What can I do to help?” she asked. “What will convince the ancients that you’ve all done a good job here?”



“I don’t even know,” he said. “But I appreciate the thought.”



His Libido had gone cold. The empathy and warmth were gone, as were the flashes of frustration and the faint hints of desire. Patty sensed nothing at all.



That wasn’t possible.



It could only mean that he was masking her Libido from her somehow. She’d never heard of that, but it had to be true. There were some men she couldn’t read unless strong emotions filled them. But Kurt was not one of them. Brief and tragic as their history together was, it was enough that she ought to have been able to read him without any trouble.



Before she could ponder what her cousin might be hiding from her, he turned around, placed his hands on her shoulders, and gave her a soft kiss.



It made her heart flutter.



There’d been a time when her cousin could do that to her with such a simple little kiss. But that time was gone. She felt her knees buckling and lips tingling and pussy quivering because Kurt was pouring energy into her like his life depended on it.



Patty could have resisted. It probably wouldn’t have done much good, but she could have. If she’d wanted. Her cousin was less than subtly nudging her in a certain direction, but if things took a raunchy turn from there, she was far from blameless.



“That’s it,” she panted as her beautiful sunlit cousin threw her back onto a lounge chair that hadn’t been there a moment before and spread her legs apart. “Give it to me, Kurt.”



Her cousin was suddenly stark naked. As was she, for that matter. One moment, he wore a silk tunic and a fortune worth of pure gold, while her body was covered in a modest sundress. The next, they were not.



Kurt was pressing his raging hard cock against her opening. He hadn’t bothered to warm her up with his fingers or his tongue or anything. But Patty was more than okay with that. Just at the moment, she wasn’t sure she could stand to wait through any foreplay. She needed to feel his dick inside her and his strong hands groping at her. Needed to feel his breath warm against her neck and his soft lips pressed against hers. To look up into golden eyes and find them glowing with passion.



It would be the goodbye they should have said to one another. The stupid little kiss back in the Eternal Garden wasn’t going to cut it.



With her hands cupping his hard little ass cheeks tight and her teeth nibbling at his golden neck, Patty silently implored her cousin to give it to her properly. She didn’t want him to make love to her. She needed him to fuck her, good and hard.



And he did.



#



Eric couldn’t so much as imagine ever again questioning his mother’s perfection. But for a while that afternoon, Olivia reminded him of why he’d once been so infatuated with her.



It wasn’t because she was incredibly, breathtakingly gorgeous. She did indeed have the prettiest face he’d ever seen, but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t because she was so thin. Her tight little body, whose only curves came from hard muscles, made her seem less than a woman.



No, it was because she was such a creative, unpredictable, wild lover.



Eric had found that, most of the time, when a girl prided herself on being wild, that meant that he was in for a performance that belonged in an audition for a bit part in a horror movie. What made girls think that guys wanted them thrashing about chaotically, screeching at the tops of theirs lungs, while putting their teeth and nails to work in ways that inspired fear more than they did sexual excitement, he couldn’t have said.



Olivia wasn’t like that.



Her teeth didn’t always behave themselves, to be sure. Nor was she shy about using her nails. But she didn’t go overboard with that stuff. And, more importantly, she understood that it was the uncertainty about what might come next that mattered. If she behaved like an animal the whole time, it wouldn’t have done anything for him. What made sex with Liv so exciting was that Eric never knew when she was going to play it slow and seductive, passionate and aggressive, or tease him within an inch of his life. He never felt entirely safe with her. Never knew when his poor little guy might next feel his cousin’s hard teeth bearing down upon it. But neither did he feel like he was at war.



A few minutes in, it all came back to him. Though his cousin could never rival his mother in his heart, she certainly knew how to get his blood flowing. And she’d learned a few nifty tricks since he’d last seen her too.



Another reason he found himself remembering how he used to feel about her was that she changed her appearance. The glittering gold skin became smooth and bronze. Her yellow eyes turned blue and her full lips ruby red. The little barbells she used to wear in her puffy nipples returned, as did the zipper in her navel.



The gorgeous little slut sucking his dick enthusiastically reminded him no more of an angel than she did a picnic bench. If not for all the gold and marble surrounding them, he could almost have forgotten the whole sun worship business.



“Atta girl,” he said, running his hands through the only part of her that remained golden. “You’re a good little cock-sucker, aren’t ya? Fuck, I love watching you gag on that fat dick.”



Her eyes gave as much of a response as she could muster, what with his oversized slab of meat being so deep in her throat. That pointy little nose of hers had been buried in his pubes a moment ago, before she’d backed up a few inches to make eye contact with him.



There was something more than a little satisfying about watching her swallow his entire length. But lest he be forced to settle for that alone, Liv made her throat vibrate unnaturally, sending little waves of pleasure along his shaft. She’d also sprouted a mouth in the palm of her hand so that she could gently suck on his balls while he fucked her throat. And, on top of all that, a dozen little fingers caressed him from head to toe. They were insubstantial, wispy, as though they were made of something just a bit more solid than a puff of smoke. Every little tender touch sent shivers down his spine.



When she finished him off, not more than a minute or two after she’d put all her little flourishes into place, his cousin swallowed every drop of his cum. Eric had been tempted to give her a facial, but it felt so good to have her warm mouth wrapped around his shaft, just below the foreskin, while her tongue relentlessly lapped at the sensitive underside of his helmet, that he just threw his head back and let her milk him.



“Damn, Liv,” he said, after his dick finally slipped out of her mouth. “That was…I think maybe I missed you.”



Still sitting on her haunches, Olivia looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Maybe?”



Eric gave her a sly grin. “Don’t tell my mother.”



“Not me,” his beautiful cousin said, reaching up to give his still hard cock a few lazy pumps. “I’ve never been one to kiss and tell.”



“Right,” he laughed. “You’re the embodiment of modesty.”



“You doubt me?” she asked as she rose to her feet. “If you knew how many guys thought we had something going, even though I always told them I wasn’t looking for a commitment.”



Eric brushed one of her nipples gently with a thumb. The piercing was cool to the touch, unlike her skin. It made a nice contrast. “Poor saps,” he said.



“Brothers, roommates, RAs,” she said. “Even a son, in one case.”



“Professor?” Eric asked.



His cousin nodded. “Some of them eventually started to suspect. But most didn’t. And at least one of the other guys I was banging would always be someone they knew.”



“You’re sick,” Eric said. “I like it.”



“I know you do,” she said, taking him in her hand again.



A second Eric appeared behind her, cupping her shapely ass cheeks in his hands. It was the one part of her that bordered on curvy, and the girl knew how irresistible it was.



“Mmm,” she purred. “Don’t look now, but I think we’ve got company,” she told the first Eric. Then, turning her head to the side, she asked the second, whom she apparently took to be Kurt, “Finished with Patty already?”



“Not exactly,” the second Eric said.



“Oh,” Liv replied. “Forgot you could do that.”



Eric winced. “Lowly little lesser immortal that you are,” she might as well have added.



No, that wasn’t fair. She wasn’t her brother. Olivia didn’t think she was better than him just because she had some sunlit blood in her. So what if she didn’t remember every little trick he’d mastered before she left?



The first Eric tilted Liv’s head back and kissed her deeply while the other continued fondling her round little treasure while nibbling at her neck.



Kurt did join them, and not long after that. But he wasn’t finished with Patty either. Eric’s sister trailed behind him, holding her cousin’s hand, looking almost as excited as she would have been back before this all began.



#



After proving to Patty just how much he’d changed, succeeding fantastically at the task he’d once struggled with, Kurt suggested that they go find her brother and his sister. Though Patty would have been perfectly content to remain in the courtyard with her cousin, lamenting the death of the sweet, goofy kid she’d not long ago thought herself in love with, while at the same time savoring the confidence and expertise of the new Kurt, she agreed.



As they walked through the dark halls of the temple, Patty found herself struggling to believe that the guy leading her by the hand was the same boy she’d grown up with. Riding their bikes around the block, screaming childish insults at each other, she’d never have guessed that she’d one day discover that her cousin could trace his lineage directly back to the first inhabitants of heaven. If anyone had described him as angelic back then, it would only have been in reference to the innocence he possessed and his sister so utterly lacked.



Of course, the little girl who used to bicker with her cousin endlessly, yet would whine and complain fiercely whenever her mothers told her that she couldn’t go over Kurt’s house to play, also would have a hard time imagining that she’d one day discover that she herself was immortal. That she possessed unfathomable supernatural powers. And that those powers were fed by energy she harvested from her lovers during the moment of climax.



It was all just too weird.



Some parts of it, she’d started to take for granted. As odd as it all would have sounded to her then, she could scarcely even imagine a life without those powers now. The thought of trying to hide who they were when she and Mike returned to the Playground to raise their child filled her stomach with butterflies. But as natural as some of it seemed, she still didn’t quite believe in Solopolis, or the race of angelic immortals who looked down their noses on the so-called lesser immortals. She’d been to the stupid place, and yet somehow was still convinced that it had all been a dream.



How could her cousin do this to her? How could he come back to Summer, looking as good as ever, finally knowing how to please her, yet every bit as lost to her as when she’d left him in the Eternal Garden without knowing if she’d ever see him again?



Part of her hated him, part was glad for him and the sense of purpose he’d discovered, and part wanted nothing but to mount him again and ride that golden cock til she burst.



And he knew what a mess he’d made of her emotions. It even seemed to amuse him.



“I’d lay even odds that they’re fighting,” Kurt said over his shoulder. “Liv’s pretty ticked off at your brother for not offering her much of a goodbye the last time they saw each other.”



That was news to Patty. Did that mean that Eric was unaware of how their cousin felt? Or just that he’d kept it to himself? Neither would surprise her, but her money just might have been on the former. She loved her brother dearly, perhaps more so now than ever before, but he could be damned oblivious at times.



Turned out, though, that Kurt would have lost that bet.



When they walked in to the otherwise empty sitting room, they found Olivia sandwiched between two Erics. She rode one cowgirl style while the other crouched above and shoved his stovepipe cock into her tiny little ass.



The sight took Patty’s breath away.



She’d taken two dicks at once herself, and had come to enjoy it a lot more than she was entirely comfortable admitting. But watching it happen as a detached observer was an entirely different matter. It looked so impractical, so extreme, so depraved. Patty almost wished she was disgusted by it. Maybe even was, a little. But mostly, it had her blood rushing to her nether regions and her skin tingling most pleasantly.



“Does that excite you?” Kurt asked, unnecessarily. The grin on his face told her that he already knew the answer. “Would you like to try that yourself?”



Patty blushed.



Her cousin chuckled to himself. “The Homelands have changed you, haven’t they?”



Was he trying to goad her into telling him what she thought of the new and not necessarily improved Kurt? He couldn’t really be blind to the irony of these comments, could he?



“Can be nice to be the center of attention,” she said, avoiding his gaze.



“Hmm,” Kurt said. “Just the one guy, even if he’s in two bodies,” he observed.



Well, in this case it was. But a few racy memories came to Patty’s mind. There was the one time, right after she’d returned from the Eternal Garden, with Eric and Nick. Or, more recently, with both Eric and Mike one day and Mike and Nick another.



Then her cousin divided himself in two. One of them got down on the ground and gestured for Patty to climb on. The other went to relieve the backup Eric.

Soon enough, both Patty and Olivia were being DP’d by both Eric and Kurt.



Squeezed between the two studs as she was, Patty’s view of the carnal acts unfolding on the lounge chair was rather limited. As was her ability to focus on anything other than the intense pleasures being visited upon her. But the mere knowledge that she and her cousin were simultaneously engaged in such depravity added to the excitement.



Though her body was on fire, she felt it only from a distance, as though it were a memory rather than something transpiring at that very moment. Poor Patty was adrift in a sea of purest ecstasy. It was almost a shame. She was only dimly aware of the hard, lean body beneath her and the beautifully sculpted one behind her. The smell of sweat and cum and perfume assaulted her nostrils, yet barely registered in her thoughts.



Her brother was whispering something sweet in her ear. Or maybe it wasn’t so sweet. Maybe it was utterly filthy. And maybe it wasn’t her brother.



Someone was gently fondling her breasts. Or maybe groping them harshly, mashing them together and tweaking her sensitive nipples. Someone else was raining slaps on her ass, summoning pins and needles. Or maybe they were caressing her cheeks, squeezing tenderly, as one might handle an overfull water balloon.



There was room in her mind for naught but the intense pleasure, the overwhelming stimulation, of her cousin’s dick in her snatch and her brother’s in her ass. The two had initially been overly afraid of coming into contact with one another. But at some point, they’d both decided to embrace their inner demons, to let themselves get carried away in the moment, and they’d started ravaging her as forcefully as she longed for them to.



Had she told them to do so? Or had they simply known?



It didn’t matter.



Hours that might have been minutes later, Patty reached one of the most intense climaxes she’d ever experienced. Her two guys weren’t far behind. Their warm cum filled both her holes to overflowing, and they poured energy into her Libido as it did. Eric’s seed dribbled out of her ass, Kurt’s jizz oozed past her swollen labia, and the little life within her feasted greedily on their supernatural offerings.



Some time later, they disentangled themselves. Patty’s legs wobbled and the room spun, but that only made her laugh giddily. She couldn’t have felt more satiated. Nor, she thought, could the child growing inside her.



The next thing she knew, the guys had collapsed back down to one body apiece, everyone was cleaned up and wearing clothes again, and they were all sipping tea from porcelain cups. It wasn’t that there was a hole in Patty’s memory, though it almost felt like it. The past few minutes had just blurred past in the blink of an eye.



“Is that how you pray here?” Eric asked Liv, his hand going to the small of her back.



“No, that’s what we call penance,” she replied.



“I’ll have to make a point of sinning then,” her brother said.



“We probably should teach them how to express proper devotion to the ancients,” Kurt said gingerly, as if expecting his sister to immediately shoot the idea down.



She did not disappoint.



“Next time,” she said.



“Yeah, next time,” Patty agreed.



Kurt shot her a reproachful look, and a chill ran down her spine. But a faint grin immediately parted his lips, and he said, “Okay.” Then he planted a soft kiss on her cheek.



“We should, uh, probably get going,” Eric said to Kurt. “Right, Pattycakes?”



She nodded, suddenly wanting very much to be elsewhere.



They said their goodbyes and then Olivia escorted them back to the front of the temple.



#



For a while, Gabriela tried her best to do what was expected of her. She bent the knee and kissed Zoey’s hand and referred to her as an Illuminated One. She asked the blessing of the ancients and proclaimed herself unworthy of their grace.



That had burned, since part of her felt that the sunlit woman was responsible for the loss of her devoted brother. What had any of the sunlit folk ever done for her?



Yet another part of her realized that it was no more fair of her to think so than it was to blame Nina. In fact, Zoey herself no doubt thought much the same of her. And not entirely without reason. Besides, hard as it was for her to accept, in the end, her brother’s death was first and foremost the result of his decision to sacrifice himself for his family. It was no one’s “fault” that Wes was a selfless, loving man who’d do anything for those he loved.



Still, playing the part of the humble supplicant to Zoey’s High Priestess left a bad taste in her mouth. She doubted that it would have sat well with her anyway, but it was particularly hard to lower herself so egregiously to her former sister-in-law.



It was only after Zoey started going off script that Gabriela lost it though. Whether that was ironic or perfectly predictable, she couldn’t have said. One way or another, she’d done her part, however much she’d resented it, right up until Zoey mentioned her brother.



“The one good thing that simpering brother of yours ever did for me,” she’d said, “was provide me with a son. I realize that now.”



Gabriela’s jaw went so tight that she feared her teeth might grind one another to dust.



“I should have left Wes the moment Kurt came of age. My children never should have had to kneel before a lesser immortal and swear to obey him. If my son hadn’t felt the pull of his ancestral home, hadn’t-”



That was the moment that Gabriela snapped. When she decided that she’d heard enough, and that she didn’t give a damn what Hank would say about her failure to submit to the agents of the Eternal Garden.



Slapping the taller woman across the face had hurt. It left her hand stinging and jarred the muscles and bones of her arm and shoulder.



But damn did it feel good.



And seeing Zoey lying on the floor, indentations in the slab of gold bearing witness to the unspeakable force with which she’d hit the ground, filled Gabriela with a satisfaction rarely felt outside the bedroom.



“Your son didn’t feel the pull of anything. He was trying to save my daughter from being raped,” Gabriela said. “And every breath you draw, you owe to my brother. He gave his life for you and your daughter. I can’t stop you from lying to yourself about such things, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and-”



All of a sudden, Gabriela went flying across the courtyard. First shock then pain overwhelmed her. Only after she landed in a heap, slowly recovered her breath, and lifted her head up a few inches, did she see that she’d crashed through a marble column.



A soft whoomp-whoomp filled the air as Zoey flew up off the ground on a great pair of feathery white wings. Nothing in her appearance suggested that she’d just been smacked down, quite literally. Her hair felt to her waist in perfect ringlets and the was not so much as a hint of bruising or swelling on her cheek. The golden glow coming not just from her eyes, but surrounding her entire body with a faint nimbus, made her look more beautiful and terrible and angelic than Gabriela had ever seen her look.



“Should you ever again strike one of the Illuminated,” Zoey said, “I will scour the flesh from your bones and sear the latter to ashes. Then I’ll do the same for your children.”



“Fuck you, you cunt,” Gabriela said. “That wasn’t an insult to your noble race and you know it. That was personal. As were your attempts to-”



Zoey’s eyes flashed, searing Gabriela’s vision even as she looked away. “You stand in a Temple of the Sun, where I serve as High Priestess. I speak with the voice of the ancients, whose blood courses through my veins. There is no distinction between insults to me and insults to the Eternal Garden of the Sun.”



Gabriela drew a deep breath and climbed back to her feet. But she didn’t speak a word in protest. Her anger was receding, the recognition of what she’d just done settling in.



“For the sake of your brother and the children he gave me, I will chalk that up to ignorance,” Zoey said. “But you’d best not make the mistake again.” The light pouring off of her grew a little less intense. “I am not your sister-in-law. Kurt is not your nephew, and Olivia is not your niece. We are your betters. We are Illuminated. No matter how we might offend you, or how kind we might choose to be to you, you must always remember that.”



With great effort, Gabriela forced herself to lower her head in a modest bow.



The memory of seeing Zoey in a heap would remain with her forever. If biting her tongue was the price to be paid for that cherishable memory, then so be it.



“Has your king told you yet?” Zoey asked, her wings beating lazily so as to keep her aloft. “What your court is to give up in order to secure our patronage?”



It wasn’t easy to keep from saying that she thought this right here was their end of the deal, but the moment she heard the words, she recognized their truth. Much as she disliked Zoey, and much as she wanted to believe that she could trust Hank, the arrangement she’d thought the king had made was clearly too good to be true.



A self-satisfied smile spread across the sunlit woman’s lips. Gabriela tried not to think about how much she’d love to wipe it off for her.



“Every two years, you will send one purebred child to foster in the Eternal Garden, where they will learn proper respect for our people and our customs. Once they come of age, we will return them to you, to serve as an example of how lesser immortals might emulate the ways of the Illuminated. Thus shall we bring you back into the fold,” she said.



Gabriela couldn’t breathe. She might have to give up the child growing inside her. Have another woman raise it and then it return to her as a stranger.



Suddenly, the bowing and scraping didn’t seem so bad.



“You can’t,” she said without even thinking about it.



“We can, and we will,” Zoey replied, finally settling back down to the ground. She approached Gabriela slowly, studying her face intently. “Perhaps yours will be the first.”



#



As she bounced up and down on her brother’s cock, its thick shaft stretching her ass delightfully, Annie used the hands on the back of her aunt’s head to keep her glued to Annie’s snatch. Meanwhile, the black brother fucked his mother from behind.



Though Annie didn’t much appreciate the pressure her father had put on her regarding Aunt Nina and her sons, there was a perverse pleasure to seeing the woman’s face buried between her legs. That Nina didn’t mind eating pussy, enjoyed it even, detracted from her pleasure a little, but not too much. It still felt good to make her service Annie orally.



She’d done her best to keep her distance from Troy, favoring Mike instead. Part of her felt guilty for that, as though she were stealing the good one from Patty. But that was nonsense. Their kind didn’t do monogamy. Mike didn’t owe it to Patty to keep away from other women any more than she did other men. And just because he made the family orgy a little more enjoyable for Annie didn’t mean he loved their sister any less.



In the end, Annie enjoyed herself more than she’d expected to. Perhaps even more than she’d wanted to, though it felt strange to think of the intense orgasm Mike and Aunt Nina had given given her as anything other than a welcome gift.



Once they were finished, Nina dismissed the boys. Troy gave her a strange, lingering look. It wasn’t affectionate, yet neither was it menacing. At least, if she found it so, that was on her. In truth, it was expressionless. For his part, Mike gave her a soft hug, pecked her on the cheek, and thanked her for a lovely afternoon.



Though the boy had ceased to be a dragon, Annie found him ever more attractive. Not so much so that she was jealous of her sister, mind. But enough that she was almost glad, on balance, that Aunt Nina and her two sons had joined the court. Troy still struck her as an asshole, but he’d been more or less behaving himself of late. Being around him was still awkward, but Annie was finding that she was more disgusted by him than afraid of him. His perpetually composed brother, who took after their father more than he seemed to believe, given his change in appearance, more than made up for Troy’s creepiness.



If she could send just one of them away, she’d opt for Aunt Nina.



Without hesitation.



“I can see why you seem set to replace me,” her aunt said when the two of them were alone. Her brown eyes were on her swollen pussy, which her green nails were teasing lightly. “To be perfectly honest, when I first met you, I was convinced that you’d never offer any real competition. Figured my brother had just found a new plaything to keep him occupied until I could rejoin the court. But you continue to impress me.”



Annie said nothing.



She had no idea what she’d done to impress the woman, nor did she much care. All she wanted was for her aunt to leave. To be spared the need to parse her aunt’s every word in hopes of guessing the woman’s true intent. To be allowed to bask of her orgasm without being mocked or teased or insulted or damned with faint praise.



“Everything was right up near the surface with you,” her aunt continued. “When I first met you. But you’re getting good at not only hiding keeping your emotions out of your facial expressions, but masking your Libido besides. I wonder if you even realize you’re doing it.”



Her breath caught.



“As I thought,” Nina said with a bemused smile.



Annie didn’t reply. She didn’t even know it was possible to mask her Libido. And something told her that her father would never have any trouble reading her.



A hand covered her stomach. “Your child will be a force to be reckoned with.”



She wanted to tell her aunt to withdraw her hand, but instead she forced herself to smile.



“Do you ever dream of him? Picture his face?”



Of course she did. Constantly. The woman undoubtedly knew that. Was she looking for details? Did she believe Annie’s dreams might be prophetic?



“Sometimes,” Annie replied, covering her aunt’s hand with one of her own.



Nina gave her a slow smile. At last, she cleaned up the sweat and cum, restoring her hair to its natural wonder from its current damp and messy state. Her makeup refreshed itself and the stench of sex lifted from the air.



“You will bear him a son,” Nina said. “I’m not alone in sensing that.”



She shook her head. No harm in conceding that much.



What she didn’t tell her aunt, wouldn’t tell her, was that the unborn son growing within her, who’d yet to stretch her belly, would one day slay his aunt. Not in anger, and not violently, but in cold-blood, while the two made love. His mouth covering her vulva, as though he were performing cunnilingus, he’d consume her. Swallow her whole.



If her dreams were to be believed, anyway.



Until this very conversation, Annie hadn’t even been sure that her dream had meant anything. But now that her aunt was trying to get her to talk about her dreams, she felt sure that they did. If she could mask her Libido without realizing it, how hard was it to believe that her dreams foretold the future?



“You’re not,” Annie said at last.



Her aunt’s hand slid slowly down her abdomen, towards her crotch. Annie laid still and let it happen. Though she didn’t care for her aunt, there were few people who knew how to pleasure a woman the way Nina did. Her father was one of them, and so was Nick, but even so, she couldn’t bring herself to object. Not when she knew what pleasures awaited her.



Fingers became tongues, and soon Annie felt the most exquisite sensations. Her clitoris, labia, and G-spot came under assault all at once.



“Tell me,” Nina said. “What does the future hold for him?”



“I…don’t know,” Annie said.



Suddenly, she felt everything more intensely. Much more intensely. Rarely had Annie ever felt such incredible wonders.



“Please,” she said, laying a hand over her aunt’s wrist. Her hips writhed, trying to squirm away from the onslaught. It felt soooo good. She couldn’t handle it.



Her aunt sat up, keeping her hand inside Annie. “You’ve had dreams,” she said, dark brown eyes drilling into her niece. “The kind that stay with you.”



“No,” Annie said.



“No?”



“Nothing…like that,” she said.



Fuck. She wanted to resist. To get away. But it felt so good that part of her insisted that the very last thing she should do was escape her aunt. A deep tension grew within her, building slowly towards climax. The kind of climax that few women were ever fortunate enough to experience. The kind that changed lives.



“Really?”



Annie threw her head back on the pillow and focused on her breathing. In and out, slow and steady. She was close. Very close. If she wasn’t careful, she might get swept away by the ecstasy. Might lose all sense of self. But she wasn’t about to let that happen.



“It’s okay,” Aunt Nina said. “You can tell me.”



Nothing but desperate moans escaped Annie’s lips.



She should…fight back. But she couldn’t. The pleasure was so intense, she could barely think. Waves of pure euphoria rolled over her, again and again and again.



“Nothing…to tell.”



“No?”



“No.”



It was unbearable. If she didn’t climax soon, she might cry. Never before had she felt anything like it. Her aunt knew exactly where to lick her. How fast. How hard.



“They’re just dreams, dear,” Nina said.



“Don’t…ungh, fuck…remember.”



How long that continued, Annie couldn’t have said. She hovered on the brink of orgasm so long that it was a miracle that her mind didn’t snap. But throughout it all, she defied her aunt. Refused to tell her what she wanted to hear. And, eventually, her aunt gave her the release she craved. Annie came hard, ejaculating all over the place.



But Nina never got what she was after.



#



“Sounds like you had a rather different experience than either of us did,” Nick told Patty as he came back over the couch. He climbed over the back and sat down beside Veronica, wrapping an arm around her. “Can’t say the Temple made much of an impression on me one way or the other. How ’bout you, Vee?”



She shrugged. “Not really, no.”



Nick frowned. He’d expected her to mention the staring contest between their grandmother and Zoey, or the veiled threats she’d thought the High Priestess had made towards Veronica’s unborn child. But if she didn’t feel like sharing any of that with their sister, he wasn’t going to push. Perhaps she thought that Patty still had some feelings for Kurt, that she’d take issue with any badmouthing of the boy’s mother.



To Nick, it seemed clear as could be that Patty was afraid of Kurt. Ashamed of having wanted him inside her again. And she no more thought of Zoey as family than she did Flori Hardt. True, you’d never guess that just by listening to her recount the details of her visit. But this was Patty. She didn’t speak ill of anyone. It didn’t matter that she had nothing unkind to say about either her cousin or his mother. The truth was in her Libido.



Their sister sat on the obsidian coffee table, hands tucked under her thighs. “I guess.” Patty stared at her cute little feet. “They were never really family to you guys, though.”



“Nor are they yours, anymore,” Nick said.



Veronica gave him a glance before turning back to the adorable blonde sitting across from them. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”



“Yeah,” Patty said without looking up. It was like she’d barely heard Veronica.



The spacious quarters Nick and Veronica shared would have made a penthouse apartment look cramped. Veronica thought the spartan decor gave it an empty, lonely feel. It didn’t help that everything was black or silver. But it was that coffee table that bothered her most of all. Even after he’d agreed to let her introduce some color in the form of a few red throw pillows, a vase of roses on the nightstand, and a painting of the setting sun hung above the fireplace, she still hadn’t quite forgiven him for it.

Seeing how small his sister looked perched atop it, how dark and sinister the glassy black surface an its red veins looked in contrast to Patty’s white floral print dress, he finally resolved to replace it. He’d liked the way it gave their quarters a sense of gravitas, but suddenly that seemed comical and pretentious.



Or maybe he only felt embarrassed about their interior design because of Patty. What right did he have to take himself so seriously? No wars had been fought on his behalf, no uncles had given their lives to rescue him from danger he’d never been in to begin with. He didn’t hate himself for realizing that he was afraid of someone he’d once thought he’d loved, someone he’d nonetheless been more than happy to sleep with one last time.



“Care for a drink?” he asked her.



She finally looked up, her cold blue eyes meeting his. “Sure.”



A shiver ran down Nick’s spine. As far back as he could remember, those eyes had been bright and shining, filled with joy. Some of that had gone away after they’d discovered the Homelands, but it had seemed to come back since she’d met Mike. One afternoon with Kurt, though, and it was like the Patty he knew and loved was gone.



Nick conjured up a round of drinks and handed them to his sisters.



As Veronica sipped the frozen concoction through her plastic straw, she studied him. Her dark eyes were like a weight on his shoulders. Nick could almost hear her words as she asked herself what he was thinking.



“Well, even if we can’t all expect to be treated to orgies when we go to worship,” Nick said, meeting his sister’s gaze, “it doesn’t seem like it’ll be so bad having them here.”



“Not at all,” Patty said, almost sounding like she meant it.



Veronica gave Nick the faintest of smiles.



For a moment, he forgot all about the Temple of the Sun and the Eternal Garden. There was no room in his mind for any thoughts save those pertaining to how incredibly sexy his sister looked in her ruby red heels, sheer black thigh highs and lacy garter, silk panties, and a black corset covered with silver embroidery.



“I just don’t understand what they get out of all this,” Veronica said.



Nick shrugged. “Me either.”



“The pleasure of our company,” Patty said.



Nick snorted. “I’m sure that’s it.”



“What?” his sister asked. “I, for one, am quite pleasant to be around.”



“That you are,” Veronica said, offering Patty a warm smile.



When she replied with the cutest blush, it almost seemed like everything was okay. Nick almost wished he couldn’t read Patty’s Libido. Wished he could believe that she wasn’t putting on a show for their benefit, playing the part everyone expected her to play. Wished he didn’t see that she knew some awful truth that she refused to share with them.



No, that wasn’t fair. If she really knew something, she wouldn’t keep it to herself. The dark pall hung over her because she feared that she’d discovered something that afternoon, but she wasn’t yet certain that she had.



Hiding an amused smirk behind her cocktail glass, Patty added, “Why they’d insist on making you two visit the temple, though, is beyond me.”



Veronica made an indignant noise as she took the lime wedge out of her margarita and tossing it at Patty. Their sister laughed as she held up a hand reflexively. There’d been no need, though. Equally reflexively, she plucked the projectile out of the air. Nick felt the tiniest ripple in Patty’s Libido a split second before the lime ceased to exist.



The girl had always been more talented than either he or Veronica with that sort of thing. Even so, Nick found himself marveling at the feat. It hadn’t taken any more effort, or energy, for her to dismiss the lime than it had for him to conjure it, along with their drinks, in the first place. But he couldn’t have done it so quickly, so instinctively.



“So,” Veronica said, apparently less impressed than Nick was with their sister’s command of their abilities, “on a different note, how’s Mike?”



A grin spread across Patty’s face and she let out a sigh that warmed Nick’s heart. A little twinge of jealousy followed it, but as quickly as it came, he crushed it.



“Would it be obnoxious to say he’s perfect?” Patty asked.



Veronica laughed. “Why would that be obnoxious?”



Patty gave Nick a flat look.



“Oh, him?” Veronica said, waving the thought away dismissively. “Please. He knows he’s not even in the running for that title.”



“Excuse me?” Nick said, pinching his sister’s upper arm with the arm wrapped about her shoulder. “Guess someone doesn’t want any head tonight.”



“As if,” Vee shot back. “You enjoy going down on me almost as much as I enjoy having you do so. All I have to do is lay back, spread ‘em, let my kitty purr a little, and you’ll dive between my legs.” Then she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “That’s one of the reasons I keep you around.”



“Yeah, yeah,” Nick said, trying hard not to smirk.



She did have a point. He loved pleasuring her every which way, but he was especially fond of performing oral sex. If, for some strange reason, she were to stop asking to eat her pussy, he’d probably request that she let him do so, as a favor to him.



Anyway,” Patty said, smiling at them. “I realize it can’t last. Any day now, the high will start to fade. We’ll get comfortable with each other ad start being ourselves. I’ll see all the stuff that I’m too mesmerized to notice right now.”



Nick frowned. When had his sister ceased being the type of girl that Veronica described, affectionately, as charmingly idealistic?



“But, for now,” Patty continued, “it couldn’t be better.”



“That’s great,” Veronica said wistfully. “If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”



“S’pose so,” Patty said, tipping back her drink.



“Now you’ve gone and embarrassed her,” Nick said.



“Are you talking?” Veronica said, looking him in the eye. “Did I authorize that?”



Nick made a face at her, then kissed her on the tip of her nose.



“Gosh, you two are cute,” Patty said.



Veronica smiled at Nick by way of response to their sister. He sensed her Libido abruptly begin to swell, and his own followed suit.



Her smooth, caramel skin could not have been more gorgeous. If her eyes were any darker, they’d be chips of onyx. Lips that full and red ought to be classified as weapons. She had exquisite bone structure. A perfect set of cheekbones. Her eyelashes were long, full, and dark, and her lush brows complemented them perfectly. Even without any makeup, her eyes would take a man’s breath away. Framed by lashes and brows such as those, and the perfect amount of eye shadow and mascara to boot, it almost hurt to look her in the eye. And if any woman alive had thicker, healthier hair than his Veronica, it was news to Nick. Her raven tresses cried out to him, longing for his fingers to slide through them.



Even the thick black frames on the glasses she didn’t need looked perfect on her. None of them suffered from impaired vision any more than they did any other malady or ailment, but his sister had believed she’d needed them growing up, and thus actually had needed them while still in her mortal guise. They’d become a part of who she was, and so she continued to wear them, which was just fine with Nick. He almost couldn’t imagine her without them.



Technically, there were prettier women around. Nick was not at all sure that he personally could say that he considered any other woman’s face to be more pleasant to look upon than Veronica’s, but he was aware that most men would have said as much. They’d say it of Nina, and of Annie. So too would they say it of Zoey and Olivia, he forced himself to remember. For a while, he’d forgotten about them, but they could not be ignored any more. Still, neither the sunlit women nor any of Summer’s children set Nick’s heart to racing the way his sister did.



“How do you do that?” she asked him, breathlessly, pulling him out of his trance.



“Do what?” he asked.



He hadn’t even realized that the hand that had been on her shoulder had obeyed the command issued by her hair. Those beautiful black locks felt so silky and soft, so thick and strong. A shiver down his spine as he let her hair pour through his fingers like water.



His sister sighed and pressed her cheek against the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, she said, “Make me feel like that, and with nothing but your eyes.”



“Dunno,” he said, thinking to himself that he could ask her much the same.



Veronica whimpered by way of response.



Slowly, he bent her head towards him. First he planted a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. Then another, lighter and more fleeting. Rolling his wrist, he tilted her head back before giving her a quick peck on the nose. Finally, he let his lips meet hers. Only the barest touch at first, but with each kiss, he grew more insistent. When they kissed, he became a little less incomplete. The warm, soft touch of her pillowy lips against his sent electricity through his body and made the energy deep within his Libido sing.



Veronica moaned and began to kiss him back more and more vigorously. One hand anchored itself on his meaty shoulder, the other slid down his hard abs, towards his crotch. Through the fabric of his cotton drawstring pants, she massaged and caressed his manhood. He loved the way she touched him. However much she might pretend to be on the fence about him, when they started to get physical, her body told the truth. She found him every bit as irresistible as he did her. She couldn’t keep her hands off his hard muscles, his slender waist, his thick hair and smooth face, or, most of all, his fat cock.



Even now, years after discovering his true self, Nick was of two minds about his appearance. He’d grown up thinking himself moderately attractive at best, and now lived inside a body that put his former one to shame. But he’d always been a little more jealous of Eric than he cared to admit, and that hadn’t gone away after they’d discovered who they were.



Except when he was with Veronica.



In her arms, he could forget all about how he sometimes wished he was taller, stronger, and prettier. If his sister found any fault with his appearance, it was mostly just because of his youth. When he aged himself for her, she went crazy. Not once had she said a word about his height or his muscles or anything like that. Perhaps she thought such things, but if so, it didn’t show. Not even in her Libido.



Just then, Patty started moaning too, and Nick remembered that he and his beautiful, gorgeous, sex goddess of a sister were not alone.



He and Veronica looked to the coffee table as one. They found their sister sitting more or less as she had been, only with her legs spread apart, the hem of her dress hiked up to her waist, and a cute little hand furiously twitching between her legs. Her eyes were closed and her cute face was all scrunched up. Some might say that Patty had a baby face. Her cheeks were round, soft with baby fat, her chin dimpled and her eyes oversized. Her round nose was very much like a button. Her eyebrows were sparse and there wasn’t even a hint of maturity at the corners of her eyes or her mouth. But with her face contorted in ecstasy like that, she could not be mistaken for anything but a full grown woman. One who knew precisely what a woman’s body was for.



A hungry look spread across Veronica’s face. Nick dismissed their drinks, lest they spill them on the carpet, and told his sister, “Go to her.”



His sister stared at him for a moment, dark eyes unwavering. Then, with the barest of nods, she slipped off the couch and went over to Patty. Dark hands pushed the curvy little blonde flat onto her back. Veronica dropped to her haunches, hesitating but a moment before proceeding to bury her face between her sister’s meaty thighs.



There was nothing sexier than watching the two of them together. Though Veronica wasn’t particularly into women, there was a powerful chemistry between the two sisters, and when they started going at it, the air grew heavy with lust.



It took a lot of willpower to refrain from joining in. But Nick did just that. He watched, blood pounding and lungs pumping like bellows, as Vee slowly guided Patty through a brief orgasm, then helped the girl to her feet and out of her dress before launching into an instant encore. He watched, breathless and hard as a rock, as Patty convulsed through a second, more intense orgasm, after which she stood on wobbly legs and slid her sister’s panties off. He watched, paralyzed and deeply aroused, as his blonde sister gestured for the brunette to take her place on the coffee table before giving her a lesson in how to truly please a woman.



After Veronica thrashed her away through an orgasm so intense that it was almost indistinguishable from a seizure, Nick tapped Patty on the shoulder and asked if he could cut in. She nodded and shuffled out of the way. A soft hand trailed down his shoulder and arm before Patty took a seat on the couch.



He knelt before his sister, waiting for the aftereffects of her climax to die down. Her vulva sometimes grew so sensitive after an orgasm that she could barely stand even the lightest of touches. This looked to be one of those times. Her labia was glistening and swollen, so dark that it would be no fairer to call them red than brown.



Only after her little lady turned first red then pink did Nick begin.



“Go easy on me, okay?” his sister asked, running her palm over his head.



“You got it,” he said.



And he did just that. Normally, he teased the hell out of her, building the tension ever so slowly. Yet compared to the treatment his sister received just then, his ordinary routine was rushed and merciless. His hands groped at her heavy breasts through the thick fabric of her corset while he tailed his lower lip over her vulva, dragged the tip of his tongue along her outer labia, and licked her perineum. He kissed her inner thighs and sucked on her hips. Every now and then, he’d stiffen his tongue and throw a quick flick against her inner labia or furtively jab at her clitoral hood. He delighted in the smell of her and the look of her, the feel of her soft mounds in his hands and the sound of her moaning in his ears.



An eternity of bliss passed.



“Please,” Veronica begged. Her hips were writhing and the hand on the top of his head gripped tight. “That’s enough.”



Nick sat back. “We’re done?”



She groaned.



Behind him, Patty giggled to herself.



“No, we most definitely are not,” Vee said. “I just meant that I can’t take any more teasing. If you don’t kick it into high gear soon, I might explode.”



“If I do kick it into high gear, you’ll explode,” he said.



“True, but in a good way.”



Nick smiled and descended once more.



“Yes, yes, just like that,” his sister panted. “Fuck, you’re good.”



Gradually, Nick introduced all the flourishes. Three separate tongues assaulted her magic button, slid inside her womb to caress her G-spot, and traced concentric circles over her brown bud. He freed her glorious breasts from the corset and grew mouths in his palms so as to suck on her swollen nipples while groping her love pillows.



“That’s it, don’t stop,” Veronica demanded. “Ooooh, fuck, sooooooo goooood!”



Sensing what was coming, Nick leaned back. His hands left her breasts, and one went between her legs to pick back up where his tongues had left off. As he finger fucked her box, steadily applying light pressure to her G-spot, she began to ejaculate. Warm fluid sprayed out from between her legs, hitting Nick in the chest and chin.



That only spurred him on.



After the squirting stopped, Nick knelt back between his sister’s legs, grew a few extra tongues again, and finished her off properly. The orgasm his sister experienced then was every bit as intense as the one she’d still been recovering from when he’d switched places with Patty. A deluge of energy poured into Nick’s Libido. His sister flopped about limply, like a dying fish, before growing completely still. She looked completely dead to the world, save for the goofy grin spread across her lips and the slow rise and fall of her chest.



“That was hot,” Patty said.



Nick turned and stared intently at her, as a wolf might eye its prey.



His sister let out a nervous laugh. “Hungry for more, are we?”



He pounced on her.



She laughed as she rained faint slaps down in front of her, most of which missed their mark. Her thick thighs managed to clamp down on his head, and for a moment his mind filled with images of grapes and melons bursting.



“You beast!” she said. Yet even as she did, she smiled and her powerful thighs eased up enough for him to breathe.



Nick wrapped his arms around Patty’s legs and let his fingers sink into her smooth skin. Her thighs were powerful and shapely, girded by thick muscle, yet wrapped in a delightful layer of soft padding. She wasn’t as pretty as Veronica, and his sister had the most amazing breasts in the world. But Patty had a lower body that was almost without peer. No nicer, perhaps, than his mother’s. But certainly no worse either.



Their eyes met and Nick felt his cock twitch at the lust he found there.



“You’re something else, you know that?” Patty said.



He gave one of her thighs a soft kiss.



Patty sighed and let her head fall back against the armrest. “Do with me what you will.”



Nick chuckled. “Giving in that easily? A moment ago, you were on jerk of the hips away from snapping my head right off my shoulders.”



“Then there’d be no one to help make the swelling go down.”



He snickered at that. “Do seem to have a real problem here, don’t we?” he said, looking at her engorged labia. “Let’s see what we can do.”



As worked up as Patty already was, he couldn’t have put her through the same slow build as he had Veronica. Not unless he wanted to see if she really could rip his head off after all. Though Nick tried to savor every moment as best he could, he didn’t take nearly as much time to work his way up to his full court press. It was too bad, really. While he preferred Veronica’s taste, and his body responded more deeply to the brunette’s husky voice than his blonde sister’s cute higher pitch, it was more than a little pleasurable to pleasure Patty.



By the time he finished, Veronica had just about recovered from her threepeat performance. Her hair was a bit of a mess and her eyes were unfocused, but she was sitting more or less upright and didn’t seem likely to topple over any time soon.



For her part, Patty was more than a little winded, but apparently hadn’t found his services quite as debilitating as Veronica had.



“So,” the littlest Moody said, “what now?”



“Not quite enough to go around,” Vee said, climbing into Nick’s lap, straddling his hips.



“Beg to differ,” he said, splitting himself in two.



Of course, by saying there wasn’t enough of him to go around, his sister had been suggesting that he should do precisely that. As witty responses went, his fell a bit short.



It wasn’t his wit that his sister was interested in just then though.



So before long, he had one sister riding him cowgirl, bouncing wildly on his cock, and the other bent over the side of the couch while he took her from behind.



Nick held Veronica in place with a hand on the small of her back, the other fondling her perfect breasts. He alternated between kissing her soft lips, nibbling at her neck and ears, and sucking on the other massive tit. Her thick, dark nipples were irresistible. They just cried out for attention. That they were attached to the most wondrous, soft mounds he’d ever seen certainly didn’t hurt anything either.



Her warm pussy enveloped him, massaging his member and slowly but inevitably leading him towards climax. Nothing felt quite so good as being inside his sister. They belonged together, and not just in the abstract sense.



The physicality of their lovemaking was overwhelming. But it was only one small part of the blissful experience. Whether he was gazing into her dark eyes, drinking in the look of pure pleasure on her beautiful face, or staring in utter captivation at her glorious endowment, he found himself visually stimulated every bit as much as he was physically so.

######################



Author’s note



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



########################




“It’s gonna be a girl,” Mike said, wrapping his arms around Patty from behind. His warm palms rested flat atop her swollen belly. “Can’t you just feel it?”



Patty smiled. She’d dreamt of her little girl many times. But other nights, it was a boy. He’d grow up to be the Patriarch of Summer. Or she’d steal Mike away when she came of age. Or he’d be the greatest lover she’d ever had. One way or another, their child would be the most beautiful the Homelands had ever known. That, she knew for a certainty.



The only question was whether she’d get to raise her own child.



It had been more than a month since they’d learned the true price of the Eternal Garden’s support. The weekly trips to the temple were bad enough. If she never had to see Kurt again, that would be just fine with Patty. He’d grown increasingly nasty of late. But of course it didn’t stop there. One of them would have their child ripped from their breast. Taken away and raised by strangers, brainwashed, and returned to them as a zealot.



Most of the time, she simply tried not to think about it. Other times, Patty found herself hoping that it was Annie’s child. Or Veronica’s or her mother’s. As long as it wasn’t hers.



Those thoughts made her sick.



It wasn’t a fate she’d want anyone to suffer. And if it ended up being someone else, she’d probably only blame herself for jinxing them, ridiculous as that was. She just couldn’t help herself. There was no easy way to cope with the grim knowledge.



Veronica’s strategy was to punish Nick. Ostensibly, her goal was to convince him that they couldn’t let their father force them to accept the terms he’d negotiated with the Eternal Garden. To goad her brother into rebelling against the king, rather than risk having their child taken away from them. But Patty rather suspected that her sister understood as well as the rest of them did that it would be futile to oppose their father. She was just looking for someone to take her frustration out on, and Nick was gracious enough to let her do so.



The poor guy. Sometimes she envied the two of them. Other times, she wondered why Nick put up with her.



“You think a boy?” her brother asked.



“Hmm?” Patty murmured. “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I do. You’re probably right though. She doesn’t kick hard enough to be a boy.”



“Any thoughts about what to name her?”



Patty drew a deep breath.



“Everything okay?” Mike asked.



She patted his hand. “Yeah.”



A cool breeze picked up, stirring the hem of her gauzy white dress. The smell of salt and sea filled her nostrils. Sometimes, it was easy to forget all the bullshit, to see Summer as the paradise that it should be. But those moments were far too few.



“It won’t be us,” Mike said. He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “I promise.”



Patty looked out from the gazebo, down to the shore, and imagined two little children playing in the sand. Shrieking as the waves crashed and laughing as they ran away from them. A little boy and a little girl.



That was absurd, of course. Even if they didn’t have to hand their child over to the Eternal Garden, they wouldn’t raise them here in Summer. They’d take them back to the Playground, as their parents had done with them. As had always been their people’s custom. The Homelands were no place for children.



Still, she could just see her little boy splashing salt water at his sister. Could imagine how she’d scold him, all the while thinking him the cutest thing alive.



“Don’t do that,” she said at last, voice small. “I’d prefer to think you’re the type of guy who keeps his promises.”



Her brother didn’t respond.



“You should convince Troy to knock your mother up,” she said.



Mike snorted.



“Improve our odds of dodging the bullet,” Patty continued.



“He wouldn’t need any convincing,” her brother said. “But Mom’s not in any hurry to get pregnant again.” His voice grew softer. “You’d think we were some terrible burden.”



“Maybe one of you was,” she replied.



That earned her another kiss.



“I’m sorry I’ve been kinda distant lately,” Patty said. “It’s just…I don’t know how you guys can take it so lightly. Every danged one of you.” A flash of anger hit her, but she did her best to suppress it. She didn’t want to become Veronica. It wasn’t Mike’s fault that he wasn’t as emotional as she was. That his body wasn’t pumped full of hormones. That he could barely sleep at night, between the aches and pains and cramps and bloating, the bleeding and the food cravings, the random bouts of sickness and, worse of all, the crippling fear. “Guess it’s true what they say. A woman becomes a mother the moment she conceives, but a man doesn’t become a father until he holds his child in his arms.”



Silence reigned.



“Guess it is,” Mike said, after a fashion. His tone was somewhere between apologetic and wounded. Closer to the latter, really.



“I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said. “I know it’s real to you too.”



“Forget it,” he said, smoothing her hair. “I understand.”



Patty sighed. Maybe she wasn’t all that different from her sister after all.



“You’ve been gr-”



Just then, she saw him.



Kurt was strolling across the beach, holding a pair of sandals in his hands. As ever, he had a white tunic on and wore his weight in gold. To judge by his relaxed posture, his ambling gait, you’d think he was just out for a walk. Not a care in the world. Nor any particular reason for being here, on this particular stretch of beach.



As if he hadn’t all but denounced House Moody. As if the island that had been his father’s every bit as much as it was her mother’s still belonged to him.



“What’s he doing here?” Mike asked.



For a moment, Patty remembered the dragon he’d been when she’d met him. His skin remained fair and smooth, covered lightly with dark hair rather than metallic scales.



But there was a trace of it in his voice. Fire in his breath.



“Oh, hey Pattycakes,” Kurt called out. “Didn’t realize anyone was here.”



Right. Of course he hadn’t.



Mike’s arms left her. He stepped into the entrance to the gazebo, filling the empty space. “Illuminated One,” he said with just a little bit of an edge to his otherwise reverent tone. “Pleasure to see you outside the temple.”



“I’m sure it is,” Kurt said with an amicable smile.



Patty curtsied to her cousin, trying to remember the kind, modest boy she’d once fallen in love with rather than simply seeing the cold-hearted, self-important man he’d become.



“Not interrupting anything, am I?” her cousin asked.



Neither she nor Mike replied.



Kurt laughed to himself as he stepped nearer the gazebo. His facial expression was relaxed, but Patty could see the tension in his body. Or feel it in his Libido.



She wasn’t even sure which.



“Not at all,” Mike said at last.



Patty laid a hand on her brother’s shoulder. His skin was warm. Past warm. A fire burned within him. His skin felt like a stone that had been taken out of the fireplace and had only just begun to cool off. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.



“So,” Kurt said, eying Mike up and down. “This is really the guy you left me for?”



“Kurt,” Patty said. “Don’t.”



“What?” he asked, looking innocent as you please. “Just a little surprised is all.”



Mike cleared his throat but otherwise ignored the bait.



“You left Summer,” Patty said. “I’d have been glad to see you return with me.”



“Sure you would have,” he said. “That explains why you waited a whole two days to let some other guy squirt a child into your belly.”



Patty grabbed Mike’s hand. “We should go.”



“What’s the hurry?” Kurt asked, propping a hand up on the rail of the gazebo.



Her cousin’s glowing, golden eyes locked onto the silver orbs of her brother. Patty wished he’d direct that stare at her. Wished he’d leave Mike out of it. Whatever problems he had with her, there was no reason to take it out on her brother. He’d never even met Kurt until after Patty had told him that she wanted to have his children.



“Please,” Patty said. “What do you want from me?”



Finally, he looked at her. It wasn’t easy to meet his gaze, what with the light radiating from his sockets, but she forced herself to do so. “Nothing at all,” he said. “If I expected anything more than that from you, I’d be sorely disappointed, wouldn’t I?”



“I think you should go now,” Mike said, inching closer to the sunlit creep.



“Don’t even think about it,” Kurt said softly, without so much as bothering to look at Mike. His eyes remained locked on Patty.



“You’re upsetting her,” Mike said.



“She can handle herself,” Kurt said. “Doesn’t need you to play knight in scaly armor.”



“Mike,” Patty said, squeezing his shoulder more tightly.



He was going to do something stupid. She could sense it. Was there any way to stop him, without hurting or embarrassing him? She didn’t want to emasculate him in front of Kurt. But neither did she want to see him get hurt. Or start something they couldn’t finish.



To her surprise, she felt his skin cool.



“See you in temple,” Mike told Kurt. Then, with that, he gave Patty’s hand a gentle squeeze and took them back to her family’s villa.



“Thank you,” she said, hugging him as tightly as she could now that her abdomen looked like a watermelon. “That could’ve got ugly.”



Mike smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry he’s being such a jerk. And sorry we can’t do anything about it because of his mother.”



“Forget it,” Patty said. “Doesn’t matter.”



She only wished she believed her own words.



#



“Yes, yes, YES!” Gabby screamed as Eric slammed into her faster and faster and faster. Her nails dug deep into his biceps and the legs wrapped around his waist squeezed so tight that he feared she might cut him in half. Her womb held him in a vice grip, almost as if her body refused to give him enough leeway to slide in and out of her, however much she claimed to want him to do so. “Fuck me! Fuck me hard, baby. Mommy needs that dick!”



Until his mother had begun to swell with their child, Eric had never found the idea of having sex with a pregnant woman to be remotely appealing. But each and every day, he found himself stunned at how irresistible he found his mother. If anything, he found her more attractive than ever. The thought that the purebred son grew within her, not far from where his fat cock was currently poking, drove him insane with lust.



His mother’s eyes rolled back in her head and her eyelids began fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. The words coming out of her mouth became a incoherent, replaced by a stream of moans and sighs. Her upper body went limp, her hands falling away from his shoulders. Whatever energy this freed up was redirected into the intense, violent spasms that were taking place below the waist.



Her floodgates opened, and energy rushed into him. Wave after wave crashed against his inner self, threatening to drag him under and carry him away. It was all he could do to stand there and absorb it. To drink in his mother’s potent energy.



When Eric regained control of his senses, he saw his mother quickly drifting off to sleep, a goofy grin on her face.



“I love you, Mom,” he said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.



“Mmmmee doo,” she mumbled in response.



Eric laughed, kissed her again, then covered her with the blanket. For a few moments, he studied his mother, lying there so peacefully. He felt warm and happy. Nothing could be more beautiful. With a contented sigh, he turned out the light and left their bedroom.



With Patty and Mike down by the beach, the villa was as good as empty. Of late, Eric found that stranger and stranger.



When he lay awake in bed at night, listening to his mother breath, he heard the sounds of their baby cooing, or little feet padding down the hallway. When he closed his eyes, he saw their son playing happily with his toys, spittle running down his cute little chin.



It was strange. He hadn’t thought it would feel so real to him this soon. Their child had yet to be born, yet Eric felt as though little James had been a part of their lives forever.



He didn’t care what he’d told Nick. If the Eternal Garden tried taking his son, there would be war. Against his father, against his aunt, against all the ancients and their heavenly hosts if need be. No one, not no one, was going to take James away from him and Gabby.



“Eric?” a soft voice whispered as he came down the stairs.



He almost jumped at that.



“Sorry,” Olivia said, coming into view. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”



“You didn’t,” he said.



His cousin gave him a sad smile. “Can we talk?”



Why were her eyes watery? Was she shaking, or was that just his imagination turning the quivers in her Libido into something more physical?



“Of course,” he said.



Liv nodded, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and led him into the kitchen, where her half-empty mug of coffee and half-full ashtray awaiting her return. She poured some of the tepid stuff into another mug and handed it to him, but she didn’t offer him a smoke as she lit one up for herself.



Eric wasn’t interested in either anyway. “What is it?” he asked. “If that little shit has hurt you-”



“No, no, nothing like that,” she said. Her blue eyes avoided his.



That was when he noticed what she was wearing. Loose-fitting pastel blue pajama pants and a tight pink tank top. The kind of thing she might have worn back in the Playground. Not the white and gold attire of the Illuminated. She looked more like a frightened little girl than a majestic, angelic being of pure beauty.



“Who then?” Eric asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.



“Oh, it’s him alright,” she said. “But it’s not what he’s done to me. It’s what he’s planning to do to you. Or one of you, anyway.”



Eric’s jaw clenched tight.



“I overheard him and Mom talking,” Liv continued. “They didn’t think I was there. At least, I assume they didn’t. They’d never tell me that they were planning something like this. Think I’m too soft. Not committed to helping our family move up in the world.”



He was tempted to point out that he was her family. That whatever had driven her to come here and warn him, it wasn’t a lack of concern for her family. But he could reassure her that she’d done the right thing later. For now, he’d just let her say what she had to say. To judge by her trembling lower lip, nervous eyes, and all the coffee and cigarettes she’d apparently gone through while waiting for him, it wasn’t going to be easy for her.



“They’re not just going to take one of your children to be raised in the sunlit fashion,” she said. “They’re going to kidnap the child, fake its death, and give it over to grandpa.”



“Why?” Eric asked. “Can’t you have children of your own?”



“Yeah, they…we can,” she said, sounding a little hurt at the implication that she belonged in the same category as her brother, mother, and grandfather. “But Grandpa couldn’t, wouldn’t, use any children my mother or I have the same way he will one of yours. He’d be too attached. Our children would be family.”



A queasy feeling came over Eric. “What does he plan to do?”



Liv toked heavily on her cig then looked him in the eye, at last. Silence reigned for a moment, then his cousin said, “Produce a Guardian of the Gate.”



“A what?”



The smoke billowed out her nostrils. “A castrated, mindless warrior to stand watch over the entrance to the innermost circles of Solopolis.”



Eric covered his forehead. “What for?”



“Does it matter?” Olivia asked.



He hesitated a moment before shaking his head.



He got the picture. Their family’s standing in the Eternal Garden would rise, for some reason or other, if they trained one of these Guardians. They wouldn’t do that to their own, but a child of Summer? A lesser immortal? Totally different story.



“We can’t let that happen,” he said.



“Course not,” Liv replied.



For just a moment, he wondered if he could trust her. If she was capable of feeding him a bullshit story to bait him into falling for some trap of her brother’s. But he didn’t think she was. Not because she cared more for him than for her brother. She wasn’t choosing him over Kurt. Undoubtedly, she knew that he was in love with his mother, and that she couldn’t get in the way of that. No, it was just that his cousin wasn’t the type of person to assist in a plan to kidnap and castrate a child, to raise it like a guard dog, no matter what feelings she might previously have had for the person asking her to do so.



“Thank you,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.



Liv gave him a nervous smile as she puffed away at her smoke. “So. Now what?”



“We demand that the king sever his alliance with the Eternal Garden and inform your mother that she is no longer welcome here,” Eric said.



“And if he refuses?” his cousin asked.



If Olivia had noticed that he’d only singled out her mother, she didn’t give any indication. “Then I guess it’ll be time for a new king.”



The others would back his play this time. They’d have to. Their unborn children were at risk too. But even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t change anything. He was tired of living in fear. Tired of seeing the effect it was having on his mother and his sister.



“I’ll go back to the temple,” his cousin said, her voice suddenly firm. “Be more use to you inside. Should it come to that.”



Eric nodded. He ran his hands through her hair and stared into her golden orbs. The intensity he found there almost frightened him.



If the sunlit delegation refused to leave peacefully, his cousin would indeed be a great asset. Fierce, powerful, and perfectly positioned to take them from behind.



“You wouldn’t have a problem with that?” he asked, knowing the answer.



Liv hesitated only a moment before saying, “No.” A heavy sigh came before the rest of her answer. “Fuck. It hurts to say that.” She fretted at her lower lip. “I love the kid, you know? I don’t know how he got so screwed up. When he first started changing, I liked the new Kurt. Seemed like he’d finally grown some backbone. But now he scares me as often as not.” She closed her eyes. “And Mom. Geez. I don’t know how stable I’d be, after going through what she did. After being raised by her father.”



“I miss him too,” Eric said in response to her unspoken words.



Olivia looked at him flatly.



“Not as much as you do, though,” he added.



A wan smile.



“He was a good man.”



“Everything fell to shit after he left,” she said.



After he left? Had her father’s death hit her so hard that she couldn’t even say aloud what had happened to him?



“I just wish it could all go back to the way it was,” his cousin continued. “Kurt would be a lovable little goof again. Mom would be a little neurotic, but not batshit crazy. And I could lie in Daddy’s arms, without a care in the world.”



Eric didn’t know what to say to that. So he simply kissed the top of his cousin’s head.



“If they…if we have to…what’s going to happen to me?”



“There’d be a place for you here,” he said.



What more could he say? She didn’t expect him to tell her that they’d be together, did she? He had real feelings for her, but nothing like the ones he had for his mother.



His cousin gave no reply. Just leaned her head against his chest.



#



Her father came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.



Annie jerked forward, out of his hands. The magazine she’d been pretending to read fell to the floor as she twisted around to look back at him. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” he asked with a hint of amusement in his deep voice. “Sorry if I startled you. I was only going to give you a massage.”



Ever since Mike had told her what he’d heard from Eric, Annie had been seething. She tried everything to get her mind off it, knowing that there was nothing she could do until her father returned home from court. A swim in the pool, a workout in her room, a favorite movie on the big TV in the family room, trashy celebrity gossip from a glossy magazine. Nothing had worked. All she could think about was those sunlit fucks taking her son from her. Golden hands ripping her babe from her breast, whisking him away to another world, cutting him, and making a freak out of him.



“Don’t lie to me, Daddy. Please.”



He sighed and took his vest off. The black silk had so many emeralds attached to it that it had to have weighed as much as a suit of armor. He draped it across the back of the couch and rolled his shoulders.



“Well?” Annie demanded, surprised and pleased with herself for not being more distracted by his gorgeous body.



Whenever he didn’t want to talk about something, he’d do this. Slowly, casually, undress in front of her. Rub the aches and pains out of his hard, smooth muscles, allowing her to watch as the steel cables rippled and flowed beneath his lightly bronzed skin. It usually worked. The graceful movements of his body were positively hypnotic. But this time, somehow, she more or less resisted their allure.



“Is it true?” she repeated.



Dull, green eyes bore into her, the light that they usually emitted strangely absent.



“Yes,” he said at last.



Just like that.



He didn’t bother to explain himself. Didn’t tell her that it was necessary, that it was the true price they had to be pay for breaking the only rule their kind respected. He simply owned up to it and, with that dull, hard stare of his, dared her to question him.



“You can’t,” she said. “They’re going to kidnap-”



“No one’s kidnapping anyone,” her father said. “Let’s not get dramatic. It’ll only-”



“NO,” she said, raising her voice as much as she dared.



His eyes lit up at last. But Annie found, to her surprise, that their eerily beautiful glow no longer had the paralyzing effect on her they had once had. If she’d been a different mood, they’d still make her knees wobble. When she wanted them to make her melt, they delivered. Just now, though, with a steely determination, she resisted their power.



“Olivia went to Eric,” she continued. “Told him that Kurt and Zoey are planning to use the arrangement to their own benefit. To dupe both you and their own court.”



To her surprise, her father listened carefully as she told him the rest of what Mike had said. When Annie finished speaking, her father didn’t say a word about the fact that she’d practically yelled at him. Nor did he ask how they knew that Eric hadn’t made it all up. He feared his eldest son, Annie knew. It had taken her a while to see that. He hid it well. But it was definitely there. Her father was no less convinced than Gabriela was that Eric would be king one day. So it wouldn’t have surprised her in the least if her father had seen a conspiracy to overthrow him in the story. He didn’t though.



All he said was, “It won’t be our child.”



“Excuse me?”



“The lottery won’t be random,” he said. “I was always going to rig it. Even before I knew about this. What does it matter if whosever child is taken suffers a worse fate than we’d realized? Better that than-”



“Stop,” Annie said, covering her ears. “Just stop.”



Here she was, thinking he was going to prove himself to her. Convince her that he wasn’t the man she laid awake at night fearing him to be, the man Aunt Nina tried to convince her that he was. That the father of her dreams and the man she lived with were in fact one and the same, no matter how many signs there were pointing to a darker truth. That it hadn’t been wishful thinking when she’d seen flashes of nobility in him.



How could he say such a thing? Even if he didn’t care in the least about the others, he had to know that she loved her brothers and sisters. That she would be horrified if one of her nieces or nephews was kidnapped. Did he expect her to just turn a blind eye to that, grateful that it wasn’t their child?



“Sweetheart,” he said, stepping over the back of the couch to sit beside her. He put a hand on her thigh. Annie wanted to recoil, but she wanted so badly to believe that he would make it all okay, and his reassuring touch seemed to promise that he would. “I know you’re upset. That you care about your brothers and sisters.”



There was a “but” coming. She braced herself.



“But you’ll never love them as much as you do your own child,” her father added. “And believe me when I say that-”



“I don’t want to hear it,” Annie said, turning away so that her father wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “If you don’t tell them that they have to leave, that no child of Summer will be sent away to the Eternal Garden, it’ll be our child.” Her voice grew stronger as she continued. “Fuck the lottery. I’ll offer up our baby voluntarily.”



“You wouldn’t,” he said.



Annie stared into those beautiful green eyes and didn’t so much as flinch. “I would.”



“I won’t let you,” he said. His voice was calm. Not the least bit threatening, for all that he clearly was issuing a threat.



“Stop me then,” she spat. “Give your little princess a reminder that she’s one of your subjects too, and that she oughtta be every bit as afraid of you as the rest of them are. Prove to me that all of your sweet words were just lies.”



Her father hung his head, looking away.



Annie pressed a hand against his cheek. “You’re not a monster, Daddy,” she said.



“You said Eric told Mike these things?” he asked, without looking up at her. His tone was flat. Detached.



“Yeah,” she said, her intonation rising as though it were a question.



He wasn’t going to go there after all, was he? Insist that it was all some ruse, a pretense to overthrow him?



He father stood up. “We have to go.”



“Why?”



“He’ll be here soon.”



“Who will?”



“Your brother,” he said. “Well, both of them, probably, for all that it matters. And whoever else they can talk into backing them up.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper as she said, slowly, “Flori too, probably.”



Annie struggled to her feet. Her son would not arrive for another six weeks or so, and yet he already made the simplest of tasks difficult. “What do you mean?”



“They’re not going to want to talk, baby,” her father said, his voice trembling. That was probably supposed to be the beginnings of a laugh, but if so, it was one born of hysteria. “And I don’t want to kill any of them,” he added, sounding a little calmer. Almost like his usual self. “You’d never forgive me.”



Her head was spinning. “Then don’t! Just explain to them-”



He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Annie, honey, have you ever tried talking sense into Eric when his blood was running hot?”



She fell silent.



It wouldn’t be like that, though. It didn’t have to be, anyway. Her brother had changed a great deal over the past months. He wasn’t the same stupid jock she’d grown up with. He’d listen. They could even work together to protect the court from whomever sought to punish their sins. What need was there of the Eternal Garden, if they stood as one against the rest of the Homelands?



Yet there was someone who couldn’t be reasoned with.



Her father.



She’d never seen such fear before. Not in him, anyway. Compared to any other man, her father was a tower of iron and stone even as he trembled inside. If she couldn’t read his Libido, she’d easily think it a passing reaction.



Was it for her sake? That of their child? Surely such a reaction was not caused by Eric. It was no secret that her brother had been training hard, growing ever stronger and deadlier, nor that his mother intended to see him sit the throne. But strong and ambitious though he might be, he still couldn’t hold a candle to their father.



No, it was’t her brother. The way he’d said her grandmother’s name had said it all.



Her father feared her brother, yes. His son coveted his throne, and that worried him. But the abject terror she saw deep within her father’s Libido was for her grandmother. The sweet little old lady with breasts the size of her head and hair shorter than most men’s. The woman who’d come out of retirement when Annie had moved in with her father, apparently as a warning to him that he’d better not hurt her, yet who’d done relatively little since then besides eat her daughter’s pussy morning, noon, and night. Annie had never seen her grandmother darken the sky, blocking out the sun with her claw and tail and wing. Had never even seen any indication that the woman was capable of harming a fly.



But, even so, she knew that Grandma Flori was powerful. That she’d seen more of the Homelands than the rest of them had, and learned much in her travels. That her name was still spoken in fear and awe by those old enough to remember.



She knew these things. They didn’t necessarily make much sense though. Powerful and dangerous as her grandmother was supposed to be, how could anyone frighten her father so? He was fiery death made flesh. Destruction incarnate. A living war machine. He’d swallowed the previous king whole, and done worse since ascending the throne so as to ensure that everyone knew exactly who they were dealing with. They spoke his name in fear and awe as well. Many of his subjects refused to look him in the eye.



“I’ve got to warn Nina,” her father said. All the emotion had left his voice, but not his emerald green eyes, nor his Libido.



“Let me talk to them,” Annie said. “They’ll listen to me.”



Her father looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. With a nod, he said, “Yeah. That’s a good idea. You stay here and tell them that I’ve abdicated the throne. That I don’t want any bloodshed. They won’t hurt you.”



“What do you mean, `stay here’?”



“When you’re done, come find me,” he said, as if that was an acceptable answer.



Annie pressed her hands against her temples. Everything needed to slow down.



“We’ll leave Summer together,” her father continued. “You, me, Nina, and Troy.” He paused for a moment. “Mike will want to stay here with Patty, I suspect. As he should.”



What had happened to her fierce dragon? Who was this man who wanted to turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble?



But his Libido had changed already, Annie realized. The fear was gone. Or at least buried deep. He had no desire to stand his ground, believing that a fight with her grandmother was coming. But this wasn’t a panicked response. He really was prepared to walk away from it all. To give up the throne he’d gone to such lengths to acquire.



So long as they could be together.



Annie’s knees buckled. It wasn’t anything like the dreams she’d continued to have even after she’d moved in with him. But it was still the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. As close to a storybook ending as she could hope for. Though she very much hoped that it was not, in fact, an ending.



In a way, it was even better than her stupid, girlish fantasies. No one would get hurt. Yet there would be a noble sacrifice before they rode off into the sunset together. Well, she’d ride. He’d fly, of course. But that was close enough.



What had happened to her dragon? She’d tamed him.



“You won’t leave without me?” she asked slowly, breathlessly.



“No, sweetie.” He hugged her tight, burying his face in her hair and savoring the smell before planting a kiss atop her head. “I’ll wait for you. Until the end of time, if I have to.”



Annie breathed a sigh of relief.



She hadn’t really doubted him, of course. There was nothing in his Libido that would give her cause to. It was just that, somewhere deep inside her, there was still the insecure little girl whose father had walked out on her. Had left her and her mothers and the rest of them so that he could be with his other family. Now he was going to go off somewhere to wait for her, and he’d be with his sister and their son. The very family that had made him leave before. A girl could find ways to be uncomfortable with that, if she was so inclined.



There was no need though. He said he would wait for her, and she believed him.



“I love you, Daddy.”



“Love you too, princess,” he said, kissing the top of her head again. Then he tilted her neck back and kissed her properly. As a man kisses a woman.



“We really have to leave Summer?” she asked after their lips parted.



He gave her a forlorn smile as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Haven’t got a backup plan, let alone any insurance.”



Right. Didn’t matter that it might be possible to avoid bloodshed. And it was. He’d tacitly admitted as much. But if he stayed, he’d be taking a chance. And everyone knew her father didn’t take chances.



“Okay,” she said. “Go. I’ll take care of it.”



“I know you will,” he said.



They stared into each other’s eyes for a time. Annie tried not to let her father see how nervous she was. Tried not to let herself be nervous. It would all work out. Without anyone getting hurt. No reason to be anything but clam.



Her father kissed her again, long and deep. Annie’s lips tingled, her head spun, and gravity forgot that she existed. For a few brief minutes, all was right with the world.



#



“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Grandma Flori said, wiping the flour from her hands off with her apron.



“War,” Veronica said.



Nick gave her a look that was just a hair shy of reproachful. Then, turning to their grandmother, he said, “We realize that he’s unlikely to give in.”



“And is Eric aware of that?” their mother asked, looking up from the cutting board.



No matter how long she lived in the Homelands, Veronica wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to things like that. They were inside a dark and imposing castle that rested atop high cliffs, overlooking the sea. Yet, inside, it looked like they were in a modern, comfortably appointed, typical American home. Their mother and grandmother looked like inhumanly proportioned twenty-something sexpots. But they were going about making dinner, homemade pizzas, the same as they ever had. And on the other other hand, they were discussing the violent overthrow of a king who just so happened to be a dragon, and also just so happened to be her father. The incongruence of it all made her head spin.



“Yes, he is,” Nick said almost defensively.



You’d think their mother had been questioning his grasp of the situation rather than that of their brother. Granted, Eric hadn’t needed any convincing, and their mother shouldn’t have needed to ask. But Veronica disliked the way her brother reacted. He was altogether too worked up about the whole situation. Nick made his best decisions when he was calm, cool, and collected. He was not the sort of guy who did well under pressure.



“Well,” their grandmother said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose we’ve any other option.”



That took Veronica by surprise. They’d been convinced that they’d have to argue.



“If anyone can think of any, I’d love to hear them,” Nick said.



Veronica ran a hand down his back. The thick muscles felt good, even with the fabric of his shirt standing between them and her fingers. She wished they didn’t feel so tense though.



“We knew this day would come,” Grandpa Randy said. He sat at the kitchen table, smoking his pipe. “From the moment he took the throne, we knew.”



Grandma Flori nodded her agreement. Then her clothes changed abruptly. Her grandmother hadn’t snapped her fingers or flicked her wrist or anything. Of course, any one of them could do the same. The little flourishes didn’t really serve any purpose other than helping them believe that they were exerting supernatural influence over the world. Well, that, and helping others see it too. So it took Veronica by surprise to see the sundress and apron wink out of existence so suddenly, replaced by black cargo pants, combat boots, and a tight black T-shirt. Her grandmother looked like she was going to audition for a prominent role in a cheesy action movie. The kind where you’re supposed to be so distracted by the heroine’s big boobs that you don’t realize how ridiculous the plot is.



“I think it’s best if you all stay behind,” the would-be action star said.



“Grams,” Nick protested.



“Why should you go alone?” Veronica asked. “It’s our children’s lives that are at stake.”



“And do you suppose they’ll be any safer in a fight with a fire-breathing dragon?” her mother snapped. “Your grandmother knows what she’s doing, Vee.”



“I won’t be alone,” her grandmother said. “I’ll bring Eric. From what I understand, that boy has learned a thing or two in the past few months.”



Nick’s eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.



Veronica knew right away what her brother was thinking. She wanted to hold him, too pull him to her breast and tell him that he was man enough the way he was, that there was no reason for him to be jealous of Eric. But now was not the time.



“I can’t let you do that,” Nick said.



“Don’t be a hero, son,” their grandfather said. “Your unborn child needs a father a whole lot more than your grandmother needs backup in a fight. Against the likes of your father and that sister of his, you won’t be any help anyway.” He blew out a puff of smoke. As if to underscore his point, it took the form of a dragon, right down to the wings. “I wouldn’t be either, of course. Ain’t no shame in that.”



He was right, of course. But her brother didn’t want to hear it.



She wished he would listen though. Images flashed through Veronica’s mind. Shadows coming to life and ripping men apart. Knives and axes flying through the air, as fast as bullets. Men in uniforms spraying gunfire everywhere. Men in business suits wielding swords and snapping jaws. And, most of all, a ceiling caving in atop her brother as he stared at the bloody stumps that passed for his legs.



“Nick,” she said. “We had enough trouble with those Bravo kids.”



The wounded look he gave her then made her want to cry. Like she’d utterly betrayed him. Emasculated him in front of their mother and grandparents then held his bloody testicles up high for all to see.



“Have you ever shot a gun?” their grandmother asked.



“Can’t say I have,” Nick said, giving her a puzzled look. “Why?” As their grandmother’s shadow rose up from the ground, he started to say, “There are other-”



Her shadow was suddenly a mere shadow once more.



“Against your father, you’ll need more than parlor tricks,” Grandma Flori said. “So happens I’ve got something you can use though. If you really insist on joining us.”



“Mom,” Nick and Veronica’s mother said. “Is that wise?”



“Don’t worry, dear,” Grandma Flori said without taking her eyes of her grandson. “I won’t let anything happen to your baby boy.” Then, speaking to Nick as well as looking at him, she said, “I’ve only got the one weapon though.” Her eyes drifted over to Veronica. “So only one of you is coming, if either of you are.”



Nick turned to her too, asking her permission without speaking a word.



Veronica nodded.



She might hate herself for it later, if she had to watch him grow new limbs again, or worse. But she couldn’t bear the thought of having him look at her again the way he had just a moment ago. He had to know that she believed in him.



Men and their fragile egos.



“Understood,” he told their grandmother.



She studied him silently for a few moments before nodding to herself. “This way,” she said, jerking her head towards the living room.



Veronica followed Nick, and their mother and grandfather trailed after her.



Time seemed to slow down. A storm of emotions raged within Veronica. Until recently, she’d been angry with Nick. She’d turned to their grandfather whenever she needed to get off, lest she allow her brother to believe even for a moment that she’d forgiven him. All because he hadn’t been proactive enough in defense of their unborn child. Now he was preparing to slay a dragon for her, quite literally, and she wished he would just stay back and hold her in his arms while Eric and their grandmother did what needed to be done. It didn’t make any sense, she knew. But she couldn’t help feeling that way all the same.

“This is a family heirloom,” their grandmother said as she took a wooden box down from the bookshelves, where it had sat beside crystal figurines and antique salt shakers and other knickknacks. “Your sister wore it once, but not a person in this room has ever fired it.”



“Not even you?” Nick asked.



Their grandmother shook her head as she opened the box. Everyone fell silent. A soft creak filled the room as rusted old hinges did a job they were not often asked to perform. All the eyes in the room focused on the weapon House Hardt’s matron produced.



It was beautiful.



But it didn’t look, to Veronica’s untrained eyes, any different than any other antique six-shooter. The grip was wooden and dull, the barrel black and shiny. There were no special decorations. No jewels. No rare metals. It was just an old pistol.



“By the time it was handed down to me, I had no use for it,” Grandma Flori said.



“It is more than just a gun, right?” Nick asked.



Their mother let out a choked sob.



Grandma Flori shot her a look. When Grandpa Randy wrapped an arm around their daughter, she turned her attention back to Nick. “Yes. It’s more than a gun, and it fires more than mere bullets. In the right hands, that’s the least of its ammunition.”



“I’m to pour my energy into it then?” Nick asked.



Their grandmother nodded. “Whatever you put in, two to three times that will come out the other end. So be careful.”



“And this will…stop a dragon?”



“Maybe not stop,” she replied. “But with enough juice behind it, you’ll certainly get his attention. To say the least.” Then, in a somber voice, she added, “But if you don’t power it up, if its not firing anything but ordinary bullets, it might as well be a water gun as far as your father will be concerned.”



A shudder ran down Veronica’s spine.



Of course, she didn’t think that her brother would be foolish enough to make the mistake of firing at their father without lending some of his own power to the attack. But the reminder that their father was as tough as he was made her feel queasy. Sure, few of their kind were ever likely to be taken out by ordinary firearms. She herself saw bullets as more of a nuisance than a threat. But that was because she didn’t let them touch her. Their father probably wouldn’t even notice if Nick did manage to tag him with that six-shooter, though. That was a different matter entirely.



“You sure you want to do this?” their grandmother asked, handing the pistol to Nick. She held it by the barrel, allowing him to take hold of the butt. “As Vee tried pointing out, your father’s going to make those Bravo whelps seem no more dangerous than kittens.”



“His sister’s a force to be reckoned with too,” their mother added.



“Shh, Jenny, stay out of it,” Grandpa Randy said, smoothing his daughter’s hair.



“She isn’t,” Grandma Flori confirmed, albeit in a tone that did less to imply that only a fool would consider going up against her. “But Hank’s definitely the one to worry about.”



“I’ll keep an eye on her too,” Nick said.



The casual way he said it, like he was assuring his mother that he’d remember to put on his sunscreen before going to the beach, made Veronica’s throat go tight. If she demanded that he remain behind, he’d forgive her eventually, wouldn’t he?



No. She couldn’t do that to him. Besides, if their grandmother wasn’t confident that she could keep him safe, she wouldn’t allow him to go. She’d seen the hurt in Veronica’s eyes, as well as her daughter’s, when Nick lay in her cabin, convalescing. And, powerful as her grandmother was, he might hardly be in any danger at all.



Surely he understood how serious this all was far better than he was letting on too. He was probably just acting overconfident because he felt that the women in his life questioned his masculinity. But when push came to shove, and fire began raining down from the sky, he’d start thinking with his head again.



“So,” Grandma Flori said, looking from Nick to her then back to her brother. “Guess this is the part where you kiss the mother of your child goodbye.”



“And his own mother, too,” said a forgotten voice from the couch. “Let’s not forget her.”



Veronica chuckled in spite of herself at that. Suddenly, she wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her nearly as badly as she did her brother’s. No one else would understand the fear she’d feel in the pit of her stomach each and every second that Nick was gone.



“Actually, Eric asked for some time to prepare,” Nick said, scratching the back of his head. “I think that’s another way of saying he wants to make love to Gabriela one more time. Which, knowing him, means we’ve got plenty of time to kill.”



That made Veronica’s pussy quiver.



But then, knowing their grandmother, she’d insist that they use any spare time they had to target practice. Probably blindfolded. No sense getting her hopes up then.



“I see,” their grandmother said. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to take in as much energy as you can bear to hold before we leave. Last thing you want is to find yourself in the middle of a gunfight with an empty Libido.”



A huge sigh of relief passed through Veronica’s lips before she even realized it. That earned a bemused grin from her grandmother.



“Empty Libido?” Nick asked, oblivious to the exchange his sister and grandmother had shared. “Do I even need to bring real bullets?”



“Wouldn’t hurt,” Grandma Flori said. “Though once you get the hang of it, they do more to help guide your focus than anything else.” As she said that, she changed her clothes again. Her SWAT team getup faded into a translucent black babydoll, lacy garter, sheer black thigh highs, and fuck-me red leather heels. Turning to her daughter, she said, “Whaddaya say, Jenny? Think you can help me and your son top off before we go?”



Veronica looked to her mother eagerly.



“Sure,” her mother said dryly. “Why the fuck not. Might be the last chance I ever get.”



“Don’t say that,” Grandpa Randy said. “The boy’ll be fine.”



“Yeah, Mom,” Nick said. “I’ll be fine.” Then, with a grin, he added, “Besides, if I lose a few limbs, at least I know a good doctor.”



“That is not funny, young man,” their mother said.



Veronica had to agree. She slapped her brother’s ass to let him know that. Of course, that only amused him more. The big jerk.



So she decided to punish him properly.



As her grandfather unbuttoned her mother’s silk blouse and her grandmother knelt between her daughter’s legs, Veronica grabbed Nick’s cock through his athletic shorts and squeezed it tightly enough that the tiniest bit of additional pressure would take them past the realm of mildly uncomfortable and into deeply painful.



“Careful, Vee,” he said. “The goal is to avoid losing limbs, right?”



She gave him a sarcastic smirk. “On your back.”



“If you’ll let go of me,” he said, looking ready to start sweating.



So Veronica released her brother.



With an awkward smile, he put the gun down on the coffee table, slowly undressed, and got down on the floor. There, as instructed, he laid flat on his back.



For a moment, Veronica marveled at how her brother’s skin was nearly as dark as the stained wood beneath him. No darker than her own flesh, of course, but in her mind, the Hardt complexion looked much better on him.



Her eyes drank in his sleek yet masculine form. His muscles weren’t nearly as developed as those of their grandfather, but he had incredible definition. Legs like that were too beautiful not to command respect, even if his quads could have afforded to be a bit bigger. And she’d never seen a nicer set of abs. The valleys between the eight hard peaks were ridiculously deep. She also liked that he wasn’t as hairy as their grandfather. There was enough of the dark, curly stuff on him that she knew she was with a man when she was with her brother, but no one would ever mistake his happy trail for a pelt.



Best of all, he had an absolutely beautiful cock. The kind they ought to pattern sex toys after. His bulbous head always made the first few moments intensely pleasurable, almost unbearably so. The rest of him was the perfect thickness.



“You want me to put on a show for you?” he asked, stroking himself lazily. His one hand barely covered a third of his length. “Or are you going to join me?”



It was tempting to go with the former. Not only because she found it fascinating to watch her brother pleasure himself, but because the look of hunger in his eyes made it clear that he hoped her answer would be the opposite. And he deserved to suffer.



But she wanted to have him inside her every bit as much as he wanted to be there. Her body ached for him. Seeing him laid out before her reminded Veronica of how deeply attracted to her brother she was.



So she wasted no time in stripping out of her maternity dress. Taking a page from her grandmother’s book, she willed the garment away, but didn’t so much as bat an eye to assist her concentration. There, not there, just like that.



“God, you’re beautiful,” her brother said straight away. And his eyes focused on her stomach as he said it. Not the breasts she knew he loved, or the warm hole he was about to invade. But her baby bulge.



Blood rushed to Veronica’s cheeks.



He told her that all the time. No less so of late than in the past, even though her stomach seemed more and more akin to a swollen watermelon with each passing day. Even though they’d been fighting and she rebuffed his every advance. And though part of her knew that he’d meant it every single time he’d said it, another part couldn’t help thinking that he only said it to try to earn his way back into her good graces.



She certainly didn’t feel beautiful lately. All she could think about most of the time was whether she’d be the first woman of their kind to develop stretch marks, or how fat she looked even in her maternity clothes.



But this time, she knew right away, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her brother’s words were utterly sincere. Whether it was the look in his eyes, the breathless tone of voice, the swell of his Libido, or the way he’d blurted it out before he could possibly have had time to think about it, she just knew. And that almost, almost made her feel as good as she apparently looked in Nick’s eyes.



She straddled her brother’s hips slowly, feeling nervous and aroused and sad and excited at the same time. Why did this have to feel like it was going to be their last time? Why couldn’t she just think of it as their first in a while? It was that too, after all.



“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” he told her as she descended. His hands went to her belly the way they once would have her breasts.



That sent shivers down her spine.



Her grandfather seemed to find her attractive in spite of the child visibly growing within her. With her brother, it wasn’t quite the opposite, because he’d always found her attractive. It wouldn’t make sense to say that he found her attractive because she was showing. But he did seem to find it appealing, and she liked that.



“And you’re going to be a great father,” she said, resting her hands on his hard chest. His pecs weren’t the biggest ever, but they were like slabs of concrete. Solid as can be. That was almost as hot as the way he was looking at her. “So you’d better come back.”



“I will,” he said. “If I don’t, you have my permission to paddle my bottom raw.”



“Asshat,” she said, tweaking one his nipples.



He laughed even as he shrieked in pain and surprise.



Finally, she guided his member to her inviting hole. As his thick helmet parted her lips and pressed against her inner muscles, she gasped. Her walls opened slowly and inch after glorious inch of her brother’s divine rod slid inside her womb.



“Oooh, fuck, Nick,” she said. “I’ve missed this.”



He raised an eyebrow. “Um, you have?” he said.



She smiled wickedly at him.



Once he was all the way in, his pubic hair brushing her labia and clitoral hood, Veronica drew a deep breath and let out a contented sigh. It was fun, riding their grandfather. No doubt about it. He was a skilled lover and nicer to look at than any man had a right to be. He was also selfless and caring and handsome and just generally great.



But this, this was what she needed.



It was like everything else she experienced in between sessions with her brother was just a dream. Nothing was real but the fleeting moments spent with his manhood inside her. Those were the only times she experienced anything real.



“I love you so much,” he whispered, letting his hands slide slowly over her distended abdomen, up to her swollen breasts. Tender though they were, they welcomed his touch. “We’re going to spend eternity together.”



“We’d better,” she said, slowly beginning to rock her hips.



“We will. I prom-”



“Shh,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t promise me. Prove it to me.”



He sucked gently on the tip of her finger, as though it were a nipple. Giggling, she took it away, sliding her hand across his face to run through his short hair.



Veronica closed her eyes and drank in the feel of her brother. His body was so hard. His scruffy hair brushed her fingers and his stiff cock stretched her pussy. He drained all the soreness from her breasts. In his hands, she felt no pain, no discomfort, only pure bliss. No one compared to Nick. It was like her mother had somehow crafted the perfect lover for Veronica before she’d even come into existence herself.



She might sometimes find him all kinds of infuriating, but all in all, she couldn’t hope for a better lover. Not without setting herself up for disappointment.



Her first orgasm arrived soon after they began. But it was a modest little affair. Like a warmup more than a true climax. A tiny reminder of what it felt like to have her brother get her off. An aperitif.



“Gonna take more than that to prepare me for Dad,” he said.



“Hush up your face,” she said, covering his mouth, nose, and eyes with splayed fingers. “Can’t a girl get some peace and quiet?”



Her brother laughed then reached back to give her bottom a playful smack.



The touch sent waves of pleasure through her body. She loved when he smacked her ass, whether it was playfully or forcefully. Any time he paid attention to her backside, really, she got excited. It was the part of her body he liked the least. Not, perhaps, the one she did. That would be either her stomach or her inner thighs. But she knew that her brother wished her ass was bigger, rounder, firmer and yet fatter too. That made no real sense to her, but she supposed it meant that he wished her backside looked more like their mother’s. Or Patty’s. He did his best to hide it, but his best wasn’t very good. So whenever he behaved as if he couldn’t keep his hands off it, her juices started flowing freely.



“That’s it,” her brother said, his voice muffled by the palm that was still pressed against his face. “Ride me good. Use me as a fuck-stick. Make me your flesh-and-blood dildo.”



His words took her breath away.



On the one hand, she wanted to insist that she’d do no such thing. That she’d never see him as a mere object. On the other, the very idea of him asking her to do so, giving her permission to reduce him to a living sex toy, was a huge ego trip. She felt powerful. Desirable. In control. He was so hot for her, she could get him to agree to anything. Did it matter that she couldn’t think of anything she wanted from him that he wouldn’t enjoy himself? Not in the least. If only as a symbolic gesture, his submission did more to speed the arrival of her second climax than anything he could do to her physically might have.



In fact, with that in mind, she went out on a limb and pictured a ball gag in her brother’s mouth. And a moment later, there it was. A red ball held stretched his jaws wide. The leather cord attached to it looked like it belonged in a mechanic’s garage.



Nick’s eyes opened in surprise, but then Veronica felt an entirely different reaction in his Libido, and she knew that he approved.



Emboldened by that, she started to go wild. Her hips worked furiously. She impaled herself on her brother’s huge dick, retreated, then immediately slid back down his pole. Meanwhile, she groped him, dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders or wrists or upper arms, and occasionally rained slaps down on his hard chest, abusing him the way she’d ordinarily abuse their mattress. If her swollen abdomen hadn’t prevented it, she’d have leaned down and bit his neck. Hard. As it was, she spent most of her time leaning back, relieving her poor muscles of the task of supporting her child’s weight.



All the while, Nick’s hands made love to her body. His touch was tender. He cupped and caressed more often than he squeezed or slapped. Though he did enough of that to remind her that she had a real, live man beneath her, however much she was using him like a toy. A man who burned with desire for her. Who couldn’t get enough of her.



Her second orgasm was one of the most enjoyable she’d ever experienced.



It left her breathless and dizzy for several minutes afterwards. And, of course, the metaphysical emptiness that came from half the contents of her Libido draining into her brother didn’t even go away then. But she wouldn’t take it back if she could.



Nick smiled up at her, his hands slowly and lazily sliding over her breasts and stomach. If it bothered him that she still hadn’t removed the ball gag, he didn’t let on in any way.



Then her brother’s eyes focused on something above and behind her.



Veronica started to turn around even before he tapped her on the shoulder.



“May I?” her grandfather asked.



She grinned naughtily. “Please do.”



A tap of her finger freed her brother’s mouth. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”



Though he was now free to speak, Nick answered her question with a simple shake of his head. He worked his jaw back and forth silently, as if fighting a cramp. Or trying to remember what it felt like to have freedom of movement there.



It was as good a DP as she’d ever enjoyed. And she’d come to enjoy them a great deal. Her brother filled her pussy perfectly, as if she was a lock and he was the key. Her grandfather was the only man Veronica had ever met who was nearly as considerate a lover as her brother. He didn’t go any easier on her than she wanted. When she really started to get into it and demanded that he give it to her good, he did just that. But early on, when she was still trying to get comfortable, he was perfect. Didn’t push too hard, and slowed down the moment she started to tense up even a little, without needing her to ask him to do so. His thick cock, just a little slimmer than her brother’s, was the perfect size for her back door. So it was that Veronica reached her third, and most intense, climax while riding her brother and getting fucked in the ass by her grandfather.



That left her completely drained. After the three of them disentangled themselves, she and her grandfather retreated to the couch. At that point, her mother and grandmother, who had been sixty-nining, got up and went to join Nick. Veronica had her grandfather sit down while she laid on her side with her head in his lap and slowly sucked on the tip of his cock like it was a lollipop. He even took a few inches off its length so it would be easier for her to get it in her mouth without having to lift her head up out of his lap. She fellated him without urgency, focusing more on keeping him constantly aroused, hovering just below the brink of an orgasm, than actually trying to get him off.



All the while, they watched as first one, then two, then three Nicks made sweet love to his mother and grandmother.



Veronica had never seen a man wearing three bodies at once. Her grandmother had told her it was possible, and she suspected that someone like her father could do it, but she’d never have thought to see that from her brother. It made her wish she had the energy to get down there and join them. Or hog all three of him to herself.

Still, if she was forced to sit on the sidelines, it was hard to imagine what could be more enjoyable to watch than the three of them.



The chemistry between their mother and grandmother was obvious. They were not sharing Nick. They were allowing him to take part in an expression of true love and affection between the two of them. At least, that was how it started out. By the time there were three Nicks, there wasn’t much interaction between the two women. Initially, though, he was little more than an accessory.



The two women looked so alike, yet so different, that Veronica thought she might have gotten pretty worked up just watching the two of them, even if her brother wasn’t in the mix. They had the same color skin and hair and eyes. They weren’t far apart in height. As they approached climax, they moved the same way, made the same sounds. Yet one had a soft body, with huge breasts and a generous ass. The other was more hard-bodied, with breasts that deserved to be described as full yet looked modest in comparison to the other woman’s and an ass that was no smaller in size but clearly consisted primarily of muscle. Her grandmother was top-heavy and her mother slightly pear-shaped. Though her mother was leaner and more fit, she had the broader hips. It was surreal. Like watching two versions of the same woman, each distorted by different mirrors in a funhouse, make love to herself.



Before long, though Veronica had no energy left, she got so horny that she just had to get fucked again. So she mounted her grandfather reverse cowgirl and rode his cock, continuing to take in the unnatural display of depravity unfolding before her.



Eventually, she, her mother, and her grandfather were all completely drained. Physically and otherwise. The three of them collapsed on the couch, sucking air, needing water, and unable to muster the energy to drink it. Meanwhile, Nick and Grandma Flori, each glowing like the sun, embraced. Veronica thought she now knew what it would be like to watch fusion. When the two of them finally broke apart, they were lit up even brighter than before.



Veronica almost pitied her father.



#



“Let who down easy?”



Gabriela blinked the dreams away from her eyes. She tried to sit up, then remembered the baby in her belly and fell flat on her back.



Wait, was that her son’s voice?



She lifted her head back up and looked down past her hump to the foot of the bed. Her son knelt before her, wearing nothing but his boxers. His chin was slick with…her juices?



An image of a boisterous child sitting in his highchair and babbling to himself while spittle dribble down his chin came to her. Even as it did, she found herself thinking that Eric looked more like a man with every passing day. That strong jawline, faint hint of stubble, and strong features did not belong on a mere boy. He was young, in his prime, as he would be for the rest of time, but he was undoubtedly a man.



“Well, good morning to you too, my little stud-muffin,” she said, ruffling his blonde hair.



He smiled back at her. “You were talking in your sleep.”



She tried to remember her dream. To remember something other than what her son had been doing to her both in that world and this one, that is. Like what she’d been saying to him as he eagerly licked at her pussy.



“You were asking me to let someone down easy,” he prompted.



“Oh, right,” she said, as it came back to her. “Our daughter. Debbie.”



“Is that what we’re going to name her?” he asked.



He didn’t ask her how she knew that it was a girl. She liked that. He was more invested at this point than most first time fathers would be, not only willing to participate in discussions about what color to paint the nursery and where to send their child to school, but often expressing strong opinions. That was a mixed blessing, of course, given that his judgement in such matters, as yet, left something to be desired. But at least he was excited about welcoming their child into the world. About being a father. And, particulary when it mattered most, he’d defer to her judgment. Trust her motherly intuition, recognizing that she’d been down this road before, with both him and his sister.



“It is,” Gabriela replied.



“When did we decide that?” he asked, giving her thigh a playful pinch.



While she’d slept, truth be told.



Gabriela’s dream had been incredibly vivid. And not just that last part, when her son had been calling her back to the world of the living with his expert tongue. Of course her subconscious hadn’t had any difficulty making that seem real. No, even before that, her dream had been decidedly un-dreamlike. Vivid, colorful, and strangely logical. The setting and cast hadn’t fluctuated every few moments, the way they always do in dreams, though we never seem to notice at the time.



Gabriela had only had two such dreams in her life, and she knew not to question them.



Especially after the second had come true just a few weeks ago.



“Just now,” she said.



Her son gave her a flat look. Unfortunately for him, he looked entirely too good for that to have any effect. Whereas she should have been noticing his expression and the sentiment it conveyed, all she could do was marvel at his beauty. Of late, his hair had turned platinum blonde from all the time he spent in the sun, training. His skin had turned an even deeper bronze. Both changes suited him quite well.



“She’s going to be stunning,” Gabriela said. “Throughout the Homelands, she will be recognized as one of the most beautiful, most desirable, women ever to draw breath. And she’s going to have the biggest crush on you. But you’ll still only have eyes for me.”



“You’re sure about that, huh?”



Gabriela kicked him in the shoulder.



Her son laughed, taking her foot in his hands and setting in on a deeply relaxing massage. His hands were strong and powerful, like everything else about him, but he could be surprisingly gentle, when it suited him. “Of course I will,” he said. “No one could ever take me away from you. I don’t care what she looks like.”



“So you don’t think she’ll be so hot after all?” Gabriela asked, baiting him.



“Course she will be,” he replied without missing a beat. “Coming from such great stock, how could there be any doubt?”



She couldn’t help but smirk at that.



“But that’s not the point. She still won’t be you.”



Gabriela smirked. “Good answer.”



The image of her fully grown daughter flickered across her mind’s eye again. Debbie was of a height with Patty, yet she had her mother’s body. Only better, she had to admit. Debbie’s breasts would be slightly smaller and her hips would be a little slimmer, yet there’d be small enough difference in either department. Despite that, she’d have a considerably thinner waist. And her face was so beautiful that it hurt Gabriela to think about it, even half-remembered from a dream that had just ended. She envied Debbie more than a little, and the girl hadn’t even been born yet. But when Eric chose her over their gorgeous, powerful, purebred daughter, she would feel like the most desirable woman in the world.



And the day would come when he would choose her. Just as her her daughter had taken a dragon to bed, and her son would one day be king. The former hadn’t turned out to mean what she’d always feared that it would, but her dream had still come true. She was still waiting for the latter one to do so, but there was no doubt in her mind that it would.



“Well, I’ll be sure to explain to her that it’s nothing against her,” Eric said. “And if she’s gonna be that hot, she won’t have any trouble finding someone better anyway.”



Gabriela purred. “Impossible.”



Her son smiled at that. “Well, someone better for her.”



“Perhaps we’ll have to make a few more babies then,” Gabriela said. “Make sure she’s got herself an insanely handsome little brother.”



“Um, wow,” Eric said, frowning. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Mom,” he continued, tilting his head away and watching her out of the corner of his eye. “I like you and all. I really do. It’s just-”



She kicked him again.



“Of course we will,” he said. “Our little girl’s going to need someone to keep her smiling. Who better than her her own brother?”



Gabriela gave her son an emphatic nod in approval. Then, sliding a hand between her legs to spread her lips for him, she said, “Now how ’bout you quit rubbing my feet and finish what you started, hmm?”



In a grave voice, Eric said, “There’s actually something we need to talk about.”



Another joke?



“Am I gonna have to kick you again?” she asked.



But then she realized that he was serious this time. There was genuine nervousness in his Libido. Her heart raced and it suddenly became very hard to breathe.



Without even acknowledging her question, he launched into his tale.



It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Yet it, somehow, it was worse. He wasn’t in love with another woman, which was where her mind had immediately gone. But that cunt who’d once been her sister-in-law, and the rotten son of hers who’d never been good enough for Patty to begin with, weren’t just planning on brainwashing whosever child they ended up taking. They were going to steal the child and make a mindless drone out of it. Train him to be some sort of super-soldier, so that he could stand in front of a damned gate for all eternity and keep lesser angels from mingling with the holier counterparts.



After an initial panic attack, Gabriela remembered her dream. That meant it couldn’t happen. Not to their little girl, anyway. Debbie’s fate had been revealed to her. Part of it, anyway. Their daughter would not guard some stupid gate in Solopolis.



Come to think of it, the sunlit shits didn’t sound interested in girls at all. But that wasn’t the point. Relief over the realization quickly gave way to worry again. Their Debbie might be safe, but that was no consolation to Patty. Or Annie or Veronica.



“We have to stop them,” she said.



“I know,” Eric replied.



A sense of calm settled over her immediately.



He’d said it so smoothly. That wasn’t overconfidence in her son’s voice though, the way there might have been not too long ago.



Eric knew full well what they’d be up against, and he knew that he could come out on top. Not because he was invincible. Not because his cause was righteous. Because he was prepared for this. Had been preparing for it every single day since his father had taken the throne. The look on his face, in his Libido, was unlike any she’d ever seen, from him or any one else. Wes would have been more nervous. Hank would be no less convinced that he could succeed, but would also be determined to find a way to do so that involved less risk. As would Nick, who’d lack his father’s confidence, and probably appropriately so.



“There’s just one thing,” he said.



“What’s that?”



“You said `we’ have to stop them. But `we’ will do no such thing.”



“Eric,” she said.



He gave her a stern look that brooked no argument. Placing a hand over her belly, he said, “You have to think about our daughter. About Debbie.”



“You can’t do this alone,” she said.



“Nor will I.”



The joy she’d felt just a few moments ago died. This wasn’t right. Her son needed her by his side. The way she had been the last time he’d deposed a king.



“Nick isn’t going to be much help,” she mumbled, knowing that it would take a whole lot more than that to convince him to change his mind about her.



“Probably not, no,” he said. “But that grandmother of his will be. And he seemed pretty sure that she’d back us up.”



Gabriela fell silent. It was true, Flori was a force to be reckoned with. Her brother had stressed that over and over again when seeking to convince her to join House Moody to House Hardt by entering a joint marriage with Hank Fisher. Wes had never been wrong about such things. He’d absorbed every bit of wisdom their parents had to impart and more.



Suddenly, though, she found herself wondering whether her dream of Eric sitting the throne, or of Debbie as a grown woman, really meant that she didn’t have to worry. Maybe the future was secure for them only because she helped to make it so here, now, in the present. Could she really sit back and let her son confront his father on his own?



Yes. Yes, she could.



“It’ll be fine, ma,” he said, taking her hand in his. His skin was warm. It sent calming waves through her, soothing her nerves and settling her Libido. “I’m ready for this.”



“I know you are, honey,” she replied.



As ready as he’d ever be.



If it was Phil rather than Hank who sat atop that throne, she wouldn’t have doubted him for a second. Powerful as the former king had been, and as close as he’d come to killing them, Eric was a different man today than he had been then. He was more than a match for the best that House Bravo had to offer.



Why did it have to be his father?



Gabriela had loved Hank Fisher, and she had hated Hank Fisher. She had feared him and longed for him, cursed his name and whispered under her breath as he brought her to climax. She’d trusted him and doubted him. But one thing that had remained constant throughout, since the very day she’d met him, was her belief that he was the most powerful and most dangerous man Summer had ever known.



“You’ll need your strength,” she said. “Can’t go in there unprepared.”



Her son smiled at her. “I know.”



And, with that, he lowered his head between her legs.



There had been a time, not so very long ago, when she’d thought that her son could afford to learn a few things about eating pussy. That whatever other virtues he might possess, and he’d always possessed more than a few, his talents in this one department fell a bit short. If she’d wanted to get fucked, well and thoroughly, she could always count on her son. But if the mood struck her to be serviced orally, she’d be better off turning to Wes or Nick.



It was almost impossible to remember why she’d ever thought so.



Her stud knew exactly how to please her. How to tease her. How to bring her right up to the brink and then back away. To make her head spin and her body melt and leave her begging for more. He never came on too strong, but neither did he give her much chance to breathe. From the first instant his lips made contact with hers, Gabriela was treated to delights such as no mortal woman had ever imagined.



With long, slow strokes, he dragged his soft tongue up over her perineum, along her labia, and over her clitoral hood. Like he was licking an ice cream cone. She shuddered intensely with each masterful lap of his magical tongue. Then he began nibbling on her moist folds, using his lips to massage her womanhood. By the time he hardened his tongue and flicked it back and forth over her little love button, Gabriela was ready to explode. Not that he was about to let her, of course. She would have to wait, enduring the sweetest torture.



His tongue was circling around her stiff clitoris and his fingers tapping against her G-spot when she finally burst. How much time had passed, she couldn’t have said. Nor did she care. It could have been an eternity and the experience would still have been too brief.



The look her son gave her when he finished was to die for. He was pleased to see her pleased, glad to have played a part in bringing her a moment of pure bliss. Yet he was also disappointed that she’d finished so soon, for he’d been enjoying himself nearly as much as she’d been. Now that she’d gotten off, though, she’d want him to take the next step. To fill her womb with his glorious young cock.



Gabriela ruffled his hair and told him, “Again.”



He grinned from ear to ear.



It wasn’t the first time she’d asked for a repeat performance, but there still weren’t too many precedents for the request. Seeing the look of delight on his face when she asked him to go down on her again made her feel warm and happy and beautiful.



Her son took his time lifting her back up into the heavens. Eric did not just make love to her. He made music fit to shame Mozart. And she was his instrument.



If Gabriela had ever truly let herself go so completely, releasing all her pain and fear and attachments until there was nothing but the overpowering, reality-distorting, mind-numbing ecstasy, she couldn’t remember it. But with Eric between her legs, giving her the performance of a lifetime, and enjoying every moment of it himself, she had no other choice. For the rest of time, any man who sought to please her would be judged against this lofty standard. And if any but her son ever succeeded again, she would be amazed.



After her second orgasm, Gabriela felt too weak to move. Her bones were jelly and her limbs made of lead. Every now and then, her muscles would twitch erratically. No thoughts drifted across her mind. All she could do was smile.



“Not so fast,” her son said.



Out of nowhere, a rush of energy poured into her. She looked down and saw her son holding her big toe, the way she’d held his so many times when he was an infant. His skin was glowing, but the faint nimbus faded as he transferred more and more of himself into her.



Gabriela gasped for air.



Draining her completely then filling her back up only to do the same again wasn’t going to help her son much. In the end, he’d be slightly better off than if he’d just drained her the once and left it at that. But she realized that wasn’t the point. He needed to be at his strongest before facing Hank, yes. That was not simply a pretext to make love to her one last time. But he was obviously bound and determined to make the most of it all the same.



And that was just fine by her.



“I love you so much, Mom,” he said as he climbed up into bed beside her.



She pressed a hand to his cheek. “I love you too, baby.”



They kissed deeply and the world ended. At least, it felt like it should have. Gabriela could have gladly lain there in bed with her son for the rest of time. If there was an afterlife, and it involved anything other than this right here, she wanted no part of it.



Staring into her son’s blue, blue eyes as he took a heavy breast in his hand and began massaging it, Gabriela smiled to herself.



The Homelands had not always been kind to her. As a child, she’d hardly dreamed of marrying a man who’d leave her for his sister, nor of raising five kids together with another woman. If she could have just five minutes with her brother again, or any of her lost family members, she’d gladly give up her immortality and her strange powers. But for all the suffering she’d endured, her path had taken her to a paradise beyond comprehension. The one thing she would not give up, ever, for any reason, was her glorious son.



Eric leaned down and sucked her fat breast into his hungry mouth. She moaned in pleasure. Oxytocin flooded her system as he worried at her nipple. Milk began to leak out. Slowly at first, then with increasing velocity. It felt good to relieve the pressure in her mammary glands. They were so swollen lately. But the best part was the way her son responded. His Libido soared and he moaned enthusiastically. He might not need her milk to survive anymore, to grow strong and healthy, but he yearned for it every bit as much as he had as a child, simply because it came from her.



“God, Eric,” she moaned, trailing her fingers lightly through his silky hair. “You have no idea how good that feels.”



He didn’t reply, of course. Just kept right on sucking.



Her pussy was starting to ache though. Much as she loved having her son lavish attention on her like this, she was getting to the point that she need to feel him inside her. There was a hole in her existence, and only her son’s cock could fill it.



“Baby, Mommy needs you,” she said.



“I’m right here,” he said, taking his warm mouth from her nipple.



“-inside me,” she finished. “Need you inside me. Now.”

######################



Author’s note



This concludes Part Seven. Part Eight and Part Nine will continue the story of Clan Walker. Part Ten will take us to Winter, and begin to tie all the threads together.



This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex and anal.



All sexual acts are consensual and involve parties who are at least eighteen years of age.



As ever, if you have questions feel free to email me or leave a comment. Either way, I’ll try to respond in a timely manner.



########################




Chin in his palm, sitting atop a mossy log in a remote corner of Clan Walker’s lands, Cahill grappled with some heavy questions. Unfortunately, he wasn’t thinking any deep thoughts. Mostly, he just kept asking himself over and over again what he was going to do.



Assuming Fiona was right about their mother, what reason could his sister have had for making him work so hard to get an answer out of her? To ensure that he interpreted her words as properly meaningful?



If so, it had worked.



It wasn’t as though he’d have taken it lightly if she’d come right out and said it the first time he’d asked. But the build-up made the situation seem graver still.



He had to convince his mother that it wasn’t worth it. That she’d be crazy to take on the queen. But how was he to do that? Was he supposed to pretend he wouldn’t be interested in getting her pregnant if they were free to do so? How could he expect her to believe that?



“There he is,” a voice said.



Cahill bolted upright.



As his father stepped out of the shadows, the cloven hooves of his goat legs crunched dead twigs and dried leaves. “Been looking all over for you.”



There was a smile on the prince’s face, but it didn’t touch his green eyes. “Have you been hiding from me? Using glamour?” that look seemed to ask.



In satyr form, there was no telling exactly how tall Arawn was. His double-jointed legs had wicked curvature, far more dramatic than found in goats or other four-legged creatures. If he drew himself up to his full height, perhaps he’d tower over Cahill. At present, though, he barely reached his son’s nose. Not counting his horns, of course.



But Cahill most certainly did not look down on his father.



“Been around,” he said meekly. Which was true enough.



His father smiled, almost good-naturedly. Then clapped his son on the shoulder.



Cahill glanced down at the hand. At the thick hair covering it, running along the back and down his knuckles, stopping just short of his father’s fingernails.



Few men in Faerie had much body hair. Perhaps including the prince. In this form though, he had a thick pelt running from navel to collarbone and down his arms. The hair wasn’t as thick or curly as the fur on his legs, but it created a greater sense of continuity between the man parts and goat parts than there might otherwise have been.



It made him seem a little more masculine, a little wilder, than the other fey men.



“I haven’t thanked you properly for this yet,” he said, producing the silver flute from nowhere. He held it in his free hand, tapping it against his own shoulder, while still holding his son’s with the other hand. “You have no idea how useful it’s proving to be.”



“Glad to hear it,” Cahill said, eyeing his handiwork nervously.



He never should have given it to Liadan. Not without….



“So you’ve come to offer me a boon in return, right?” Cahill said.



His father’s eyes narrowed.



“I’m new to Faerie, so if I’ve misunderstood, please forgive me. But that’s how these things work isn’t it?”



“It was a gift freely given,” his father said cautiously.



That didn’t really mean much. Depending on the circumstances, that could mean that Cahill was entitled to a greater boon than he could have expected to negotiate for if he hadn’t given the flute as a gift. But in other cases, it would have meant that he wasn’t entitled to any recompense at all. The precise difference between the two situations remained somewhat mysterious to Cahill. But he knew enough to know that this was one of those cases where, by accepting the flute, his father had indebted himself.



“I’ve already granted my sister a major boon,” the prince continued. “Perhaps you ought not have used a middleman.”



That, however, he hadn’t considered.



How could he have not? What did he think, that Liadan was just going to hand the flute over to Arawn out of the goodness of her heart? She was the Lady of Mischief, not Benevolence. He might be entitled to a boon from her, but not his father.



Still, he could work with that.



“Hmm, good point,” Cahill said. “Yes, next time, I’ll do that. Just give my flutes directly to all of your brothers and sisters, without asking anyone else to deliver them for me.”



The prince’s hand fell away from his son’s shoulder.



Cahill could have threatened to give one to his mother. Or to craft one for himself. But that was tantamount to declaring Clan Walker’s intention to challenge the Dreamsmyths. Nothing to be gained by doing that. On the other hand, he could leverage his father’s fear of his own family against him, and do so without fear of invoking the queen’s wrath.



“Suppose I was feeling generous,” his father said.



“I just might be dissuaded from making any such gifts,” Cahill finished for him.



Green eyes glowered at him. Cahill could almost hear his father contemplating whether it would be easy to remove all of Cahill’s memories of his life in the Dreaming, and the knowledge of how to craft flutes along with it. But, of course, he didn’t need to give the others flutes in order to threaten his father’s hold on power. And he knew that.



Silence reigned for a few intense moments before the prince said, “Perhaps I do owe you a boon.” He tapped the flute against his shoulder again. “Mighty fine handiwork, after all.”



“A major one,” Cahill said.



His father drew a deep breath. “Naturally.”



“Thanks, Dad,” Cahill said. “You’re alright, no matter what your mom says about you.”



No response came. The Prince of the Emerald Court, Lord of Remembrance, and Piper of Dawn, stared coldly at his youngest son.



Cahill hadn’t expected his father to laugh at that stupid joke, but that expression still made him wish that he hadn’t made it.



Without another word, his father gave him a nod and disappeared without a trace.



“Well,” Cahill said to himself. But he didn’t finish the thought, having no idea how to feel about what had just happened.



#



The part of the woods his mother usually inhabited was empty. Cahill searched all around for her but there was no sign of the red goddess. Eventually, he let his Libido guide him to her. Opening himself up, he called to mind her smile and her smell, her beautiful auburn hair and her impossibly proportioned figure.



He found her in the big clearing near the center of Clan Walker’s territory, where they held official gatherings on those rare occasions where such were called for. Which they hadn’t since the day they’d acted out their retelling of Alice in Wonderland for Brittany.



It appeared his aunt had something similar in mind for that morning.



When he saw everyone gathered there, Cahill had muttered a string of profanities under his breath. He wasn’t in the mood for one of Oona’s games, fun as they could be. Family orgies were never a bad time, of course, but he wanted nothing more just at that moment than to be alone with his mother. He wasn’t sure yet whether to tell her about his encounter with his father. She didn’t know about the flute, and he’d have to tell her about that to tell her about the boon. But either way, he wanted to be with her. Where he belonged.



Before he could say a word though, the busty nymph spotted him, waved, and called out, “Hey you! Thought we were going to have to start without you.”



His mother shot him a sympathetic look over her sister’s shoulder. She mouthed “sorry” as Oona rushed over to talk to him.



“Caron told us not to look for you,” his aunt explained as she approached him, using a nickname his mother disliked even more than he did Kay.



He’d called her that once himself, but the frown she’d given him had been enough to ensure that there was never a second time. There was a story there, no doubt, but his mother hadn’t yet seen fit to share it with him.



“Needed some time alone,” he said. “But I’m here now.”



It didn’t surprise Cahill that his mother had known not to disturb him. The connection between the two of them was powerful, and growing more so. She often knew how he was feeling before he himself did. Why should a little physical distance negate that?



“Well, there aren’t a lot of options left, kiddo,” Oona said, glancing around the clearing with a poorly hidden smirk. “Maybe you can be…Toto?”



Cahill snorted derisively.



But she was right that there weren’t many options left. They were going for an Oz theme, as they hadn’t for some years.



Well, for Cahill, it had been years since the last time they’d last re-imagined that classic American fairy tale. But that would only have been a few months for the other members of Clan Walker, given the differences in how time flowed here in Faerie as compared to the Dreaming. He was still getting used to that. Hard as it was to believe, his mother had recently informed him that she’d only given birth to him less than two years ago.



This time, Fiona was to play Dorothy. It had been Oona when last they’d done the whole Oz thing, but his aunt was currently opting for a part they’d previously neglected, casting herself as the Wicked Witch of the West. Much to Cahill’s amusement, Gallech and Reilly had accordingly taken on the guises of two figures likely to spend a lot of time with the Wicked Witch — a winged monkey and a green-skinned winkie guard, respectively. His younger sister would serve as the Tin Man, as her beloved Finnie had the last time. Finnegan was dressed up as Scarecrow and Seamus had claimed the Cowardly Lion.



As was only fitting, his mother would again be the Good Witch.



With red patent-leather pumps that were thickly encrusted with glittering rubies, white knee-high stockings, a skimpy blue jumper and frilly white blouse, Fi looked a good deal like the iconic character, even if hers was a decidedly more grown-up take. His sister even wore her dark brown hair in pig-tails, just the way Judy Garland had.



Of course, that Dorothy hadn’t shown quite so much skin.



His sister’s apple bottom was slightly visible beneath the hem of her dress. Without the white petticoats, her outfit would have granted an almost unobstructed view of that treasure. The bodice of the jumper didn’t cover half of his sister’s considerable bust, and the blouse only covered up a little more. That left an impressive amount of cleavage on display.



Oona’s skin was green and her nose was longer than usual. Thick eyebrows had grown thicker, and acquired a wicked arch. Her lips were black as pitch, the same as her eyes. She wore a wide-brimmed black hat with a pointy tip. A black cape stretched from her shoulders down to her ankles. The similarities mostly ended there, though. At least, no version of the witch Cahill had ever seen had worn a fishnet body stocking, leather boots with six inch heels, or a black leather corset. Though Cahill could imagine some creative uses of the infamous broomstick, his aunt hadn’t bothered to incorporate it.



As the Tin Man, Brittany wore stiletto heels, tight leather pants, a silk corset worn over a long-sleeved shirt, a choker, leather gloves, and a little funnel worn off to one side of her head. All of which, of course, were silver of one shade or another. She carried a woodsman’s axe whose shaft was of a piece with its dull blade. Somehow, her getup managed to make her look both more imposing than usual and sexy as hell. If not for the axe and the funnel, it would have been hard to tell who she was supposed to be. But that didn’t matter. Cahill would never again think that the Tin Man should be played by a man, even if there was a certain symbolism to seeing his quiet and eerily detached cousin dress up as a character who’d famously been in search of a heart. Her outfit wasn’t nearly as skimpy as Fiona’s. The only place any skin was visible was from the neck up and the ankle down. But, to his surprise, Cahill found that he rather liked the way the outfit complemented Brittany’s body, suggesting more than it revealed.



Of course, no one could compare to his mother.



Caronwyn wore bright pink heels and white stockings with pink rainbows at the center of their elastic bands. Her full hips seemed even broader with her short but wide bright pink skirt. The soft pink overskirt that lay atop it only added to the effect. Her white corset had soft pink stripes and cups and a bright pink ribbon at the center. Soft pink epaulets covered her shoulders and she wore long pink gloves that reached past her elbows. Bright pink rainbows adorned the wrists. To bring it all together, she carried a star-tipped wand and wore a tall, thin silver crown atop her pile of red-brown curls.



Never had a woman looked so good. Never.



Of course, even at her worst, his mother put every other woman to shame. If it could even be said that she had a “worst,” come to think of it. But the costume fit her so perfectly, in both the literal and metaphorical senses, that Cahill was surprised he didn’t explode the instant he laid eyes on her. Her costume wasn’t as modest as Brittany’s nor as skimpy as Fiona’s or Oona’s, and he liked that very much. Her getup struck the exact right balance. No man could gaze upon her and doubt that she had an ultra-feminine form, nor without feeling a painful need to see more of that biologically impossible figure. His sisters looked good, to be sure. As did his aunt. But the redhead looked amazing. And then some. She was not only the best-looking to begin with, but hers was the best costume as well.



In fairness, even Gallech and Reilly looked a lot better than the characters they were depicting. Cahill didn’t spend much time admiring their appearances, the way he did the women of his family, but he had to admit that they’d managed to eke more sex appeal out of the Wicked Witch’s henchmen than one might expect.



Gallech’s skin had turned light blue, and he’d grown a good deal of dark blue body hair, but he didn’t actually look like a monkey at all. He still had the same handsome face that bordered on beautiful. The body hair that he’d grown was too sparse, too absent from unwanted places, to be mistaken for fur. It really only made him look more masculine, Cahill had to admit. The same way his father’s pelt did when he was in satyr form. The blue vest with red and white trim, matching hat, prehensile tail, and feathery wings all made it quite clear who and what his brother was supposed to be, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that a woman with a sufficiently open mind would still find him more than a little appealing.



Like his mother, Reilly had gone green. He carried a nasty polearm just like the ones in the film and wore more or less the same uniform. The one difference was the absence of thick plates of steel that should have covered him from neck to waist. Though armor covered his upper arms and all the other details were as they should have been, his torso was unprotected, and he wore his coat open so as to reveal his hard chest and chiseled abs.



If Gallech and Reilly rose above the limitations of their costumes, Finnegan and Seamus transformed their characters into veritable sex symbols.



Finnegan wore loose brown drawstring pants, a tight blue vest, a burlap sack over his head with a hole cut out for his face, and a broad-brimmed black hat. Straw hung out from the bottom of his pants and encircled his wrists and throat. His face had changed color to match that of the sack, save for his nose, which was brown. While Finnegan didn’t have his brother’s pecs or biceps, Cahill thought that his cousin looked at least as good in his loose but tiny vest as Gallech did in his tighter one. Of course, it helped that he wasn’t blue and that his washboard abs weren’t hidden beneath a thick layer of hair.



As for Seamus, well, he almost made Cahill wish he swung that way. He’d grown a tail, leonine ears, and a thick golden mane. But aside from that, he’d basically just thrown on a leather loincloth, made his skin golden-brown, and allowed some body hair to grow out. Not nearly as much as their oldest brother though. He hadn’t bothered to adopt a feline nose or whiskers, nor to turn his hands and feet into paws. There really wasn’t much difference between this Cowardly Lion and ordinary old Seamus. But his brother’s best qualities were on full display, from abs any man could envy to long thighs that were powerful but not overdeveloped, and the animal likeness made his typically restrained brother seem wild and dangerous in a way that Cahill could only imagine would drive Fiona and the others crazy.



“So,” Oona said, tapping a slender finger against her mouth. Even with her skin green and both her her fingernails and lips jet black, he found her incredibly beautiful. Not nearly as beautiful as his mother, of course, but there was no denying that his aunt was gorgeous. “Toto. Think you can make that work? Or are we all going to have to laugh at you?”



Part of him wanted to say that he had no time for the silly exercise. That he’d come looking for his mother, and he didn’t care what the rest of them did, so long as they let him talk to her. But he’d only end up piquing everyone’s interest, guaranteeing that he and his mother would get no privacy, if he said as much. Besides, the news would wait.



So. Toto.



“I…guess,” he said.



Oona snickered. “You’re too cute, Kay,” she said, reaching out to pinch his cheek, the way his mortal aunts often had back in the Dreaming.



He took a page from Seamus’ book, opting for a very minimal costume. He grew a short, bushy tail and donned a knit hat that depicted the face of a terrier. His goatee grew thicker and took on a lighter tint. His hands and feet turned dark gray, nearing black, but did not turn into paws or grow any hair. Aside from a gray furry loincloth and his hat, he wore no other clothes. His well-muscled body was almost fully exposed.



Yet, he knew before the snickers began that he didn’t look as good as Seamus.



A man could liken himself to a lion and add to his sex appeal. But a terrier? Not a chance. It didn’t matter that Cahill had an enviable body, a sharply v-shaped torso, long legs, and a huge dick that his loincloth could barely contain. His biceps and calves might look like baseballs, and his abs might have been almost as perfect as Seamus’, but with his cute puppy dog cap and his waggly tail, he was a big joke.



“Awwww,” Oona tried to say, though she was failing so miserably at stifling her laughter that it didn’t quite come out that way. Pressing a hand to his hard abs, she said, “Don’t you just look….” Whatever she’d intended to say turned into a mix of snorts and snickers.



“Thanks,” Cahill said, infusing the word with as much sarcasm as he could.



“Oh, you’re adorable, sweetie,” his aunt said, sounding now almost as though she meant it. She went up on tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips, helping his shame to recede a little further. “And you know it.” The hand that had been pressed against his abs fell a little lower and rubbed his manhood through his skimpy undergarment. “Dorothy better keep her eyes on you. This Wicked Witch isn’t all that interested in girls from Kansas, but her little dog? Him, we’d very much like to get our hands on.”



Cahill kissed his aunt back. Deeply. And gave her ass a firm squeeze before letting go.

She didn’t have the backside his older sister or his mother had. Even Brittany’s bottom was more to his liking. But she liked it when he paid attention to her modest little cheeks.



“Now,” his aunt proclaimed after she settled back to her heels, “let’s get started!” She turned her back to him, taking in the rest of the clan. Seamus pressed up against Fi from behind, wrapping his lean arms around her waist and nestling his chin in against her neck. Everyone else offered Oona their undivided attention. “Everyone ready?”



A few heads nodded. Lacking any objections, his aunt took that for consent enough. She clapped her hands, and they were all transported far away.



Of the Wicked Witch and her henchman, there was no sign. The same went for Caronwyn the Good Witch, much to Cahill’s disappointment. The rest of them, Dorothy and Toto and her three loyal companions, found themselves on a yellow brick road in the middle of the familiar forests of Faerie.



“So,” Fiona said, looking to her left and right. “Should we see where this goes?” she asked, flicking her wrist to take in the road before them.



“Might as well,” Cahill said to his sister.



But Seamus was already nibbling at their sister’s ear and groping at her full breasts through her clothes. Clearly, he at least had no interest in finding the Emerald City. Or whatever else the road might lead to.



And, in his brother’s shoes, Cahill would have probably reacted the same way. But the idea of staying where they were and descending into an orgy there and then didn’t interest him much. Not when their mother was out there somewhere, waiting for him.



Just as he was considering leaving , his little sister grabbed him and pulled him down for a kiss. The jolts of ecstasy Brittany sent flooding through his body made it impossible to tear himself away. Instead, he reached down and cupped her ass in his hands.



As he did, he marveled at how large it was. How much softer it was than made any sense, given her athletic build. A girl her size and shape shouldn’t have had so much to offer back there. One of these days, the fact that little Brit has such a sweet ass would penetrate his thick skull and he’d ceased being amazed by it. But until then, each and every time Cahill planted his hands on her bubble butt, he would feel a rush of surprise and excitement.



“Let’s just set that aside,” Finnegan said.



Cahill glanced up for a second, though his lips never left his sister’s. His cousin had stepped up behind Brittany and was gently slipping the silver axe out of her grip. Once it was securely in his hand, he tossed it aside. Then he grabbed Cahill’s wrists and tugged upward, presumably hoping to let his own hands explore the wonder of Brittany’s ass. Cahill considered resisting, but decided to play nice. His hands slip up to his sister’s firm back.



They stayed like that for a time, Cahill and Brittany locking lips while Finnegan fondled her backside from behind. His sister came close to being a bit too eager, too aggressive, for Cahill’s taste. He preferred to take the lead, as Fiona and Caronwyn always allowed him to. But the girl definitely knew what she was doing, and Cahill had only met two women in his entire life who had lips as nice and full as his kid sister’s.



Before too long, though, the heat level started rising. Finnegan and Cahill took turns stripping Brittany of various articles of clothing while she kissed one or the other, and she’d occasionally stop long enough to tear something off one of them. Whether by ordinary means or supernatural, parts of their costumes slowly fell away. They didn’t take everything off, though. Brittany kept her heels, gloves, choker and, somehow, the funnel atop her head. Finnegan retained most of his getup, having shed nothing but his pants. Only Cahill ended up naked as the day he was born. If his sister had gotten her way, he’d have kept the stupid hat on, but he’d been only too happy to be rid of it.



Lying flat on his back, Cahill helped his sister mount him. The girl still had a little trouble getting his huge dick inside her little hole. For his part, Cahill wished it didn’t feel like he was ripping her open. Like he was forcing her to endure some great agony. True, the look on her face told him that agony was the furthest thing from what Brittany was feeling just then. So did the moans and sighs, the fluttering of her eyelids and the way her teeth pressed against her lower lip. But even so, he was reluctant to fondle her breasts or cup her ass, or even to caress her pretty little feet. He longed to feel her, to explore the wonders of her body, but he just wasn’t sure she could handle any additional stimulation.



“Oh…fuck…Kay,” she said once she had him all the way inside. A goofy smile spread across her face. “That feels…goooood.”



Finnegan cleared his throat loudly. Both Cahill and Brittany pretended not to notice.



His sister’s hands started exploring, undulating over his abs and sliding across the smooth plains of his chest. He took that as his cue to let his own hands go to work. They started with her sharp ankles and worked their way up her long legs towards that inappropriately wonderful ass. Her calves were tight and hard, her thighs slender and lightly curved.



“Probably never fantasized about doing the Tin Man before, huh?” Brittany asked as she started to slowly bounce up and down on his thick cock. “How’s it feel?”



“Wrong,” Cahill said. “All the right kinds of wrong.”



She smiled and leaned down to give him a quick kiss. “Good answer,” she said before drawing herself back up.



Finnegan had apparently had enough. He ran a hand through his cousin’s hair, stopping when he reached the funnel, and pulled her towards his eagerly waiting cock.



The girl teased him mercilessly for a while. She’d slowly, gently, close those luscious lips of hers over the very tip of his dick and then slide them quickly off. Then she’d lightly flick her tongue against his glans or lick the pre-cum from his slit. But just as he was starting to whimper, Brittany suddenly engulfed him completely and immediately went to work giving Finnegan a very enthusiastic blowjob.



Cahill let his sister set her own pace, which was slow, until she got their cousin off. Then he went to work, using his hips to drive his monster cock up into her. The gilded paving stones beneath him felt cool, but the rest of him was on fire. His sister’s Libido was a raging inferno, and he was bathing in its heat. It didn’t take long to bring her to climax.



After that, Finnegan knelt behind them and slowly worked his dick into Brittany’s tight little ass hole. The poor girl truly did seem to be suffering this time, but only at first. Shortly after her cousin buried himself in her bowels, she gradually worked herself up to a frantic pace, using her two men for her own pleasure, and loving every second of it.



For his part, Cahill was glad to be used. His hands remained gently cupped over her breasts, but otherwise, he simply lay there and let her do what she would with him. The look of pure ecstasy on his sister’s face was a wonder to behold. She was no slave to her passions, but the master of them, and that had Cahill utterly in awe of her. He stared up at her slack-jawed, honored to take part in her quest for satisfaction.



“Oh, fuuuuuck,” his sister moaned as a powerful orgasm swept over her. Violent spasms wracked her body. Or would have, if she wasn’t sandwiched so tightly between Finnegan and Cahill. “Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, hips writhing and fingernails doing their best to bite into Cahill’s skin. Were it not for her leather gloves, she’d likely have drawn blood.



While her energy was still pouring rapidly into both Cahill and Finnegan, Brittany leaned forward and covered her brother’s mouth in hers, kissing him hungrily. For a moment, he thought she might suck him dry, pulling all the energy he was taking from her and more out through his mouth. But all she stole was his oxygen.



“Damn, that was good,” she panted after releasing him.



“You’re insatiable,” Finnegan said. He gave Brittany’s ass a smack before pulling out.



“We’re not jealous, are we?” Brittany asked playfully as she dismounted Cahill. She stood, went up on tiptoes, wrapped her arms around her cousin, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “You’ll get your turn to be the focus of my attention, you know.” Another kiss. “Just have to wait your turn.”



On that note, Cahill left the two lovebirds alone.



Seamus was on his knees, giving it to Fiona from behind. He looked up from their sister’s heavenly ass and gave Cahill a smile. Now that they all knew that Cahill wasn’t interested in stealing Fi away, Seamus was apparently done pretending to resent Cahill.



It was a strange sight, and not just because of their costumes. All of a sudden, Cahill was keenly aware of what he all too often forgot. He was about to join his brother in a threesome with their sister. That he and his cousin had just finished double-penetrating his other sister. That they were engaged in a family orgy.



There was a world in such behavior would be considered monstrous. He’d spent most of his life there. Here, in Faerie, all anyone ever did was have sex with their blood relatives. Not only wasn’t there an incest taboo, but it was almost, almost, as if there was a taboo against any other kind of sex. But back in the Dreaming, a world he’d once considered the real world, families did not behave this way.



He felt strangely numb. The sudden realization of how depraved their actions were ought to have filled with disgust and shame. Or perhaps he should have felt a thrill at the thought of defying such a powerful norm. Yet he felt neither of those things. As he watched Fiona drive her incredible ass back against Seamus, and as the impact of their bodies slapping together set her great white orbs to dancing, all Cahill felt was arousal. Not because it was wrong for his brother and sister to fornicate with one another and he got off on watching their wicked act. No, simply because Fiona was a damn good-looking woman with an amazing body. If Cahill felt any differently about witnessing their carnal acts than he would have any other couple, it was only in the sense that he loved the two of them, as any man would love his brother and sister, and seeing them please one another brought a smile to his face. He knew that ought to have felt otherwise, but he was incapable of doing so.



“I won’t…mphh…bite,” Fiona told him.



Cahill chuckled to himself before going and kneeling before his older sister, presenting his hard cock to her the way one might offer a child a lollipop. And she engulfed him no less eagerly than a toddler might have a piece of candy.



Seamus grinned at him again before devoting all his attention to servicing their sister properly. He redoubled his efforts to send her to her happy place and she began to lose her focus, moaning against Cahill more than fellating him. But the vibrations in her throat felt too good for Cahill to be disappointed by that.



It soon became clear that something had come over all of them, much the way Dorothy and her friends had all suddenly fallen asleep in the poppy fields. Only it wasn’t sleepiness that fell upon them, but a powerful, unrelenting lust. One that knew no loyalties.



Once more, Cahill forgot that incest was forbidden in most people’s minds. Forgot that there was anything unusual about their leisure activities. All he knew was the he couldn’t get enough of his two sexy sisters.



Eventually, a voice in the back of his mind told him to forget about the two of them and go find his mother. But that voice was weak and distant. Drowned out by the one that urged him to give everything he had to Fiona, just as he had Brittany a little earlier.



After the busty version of Dorothy collapsed in an intense orgasm, she announced that she wanted both of them at once. And so it was that the ruby-slipped beauty was soon sandwiched between the Cowardly Lion and her little dog too. Then Cahill did his best to fulfill his older sister’s needs all by himself after Seamus joined Finnegan and Brittany. He slipped back into a supporting role when Finnegan finally peeled himself away from the Tin Woman. After a while, Cahill left his cousin with Fiona and went to help Seamus try, in vain, to satisfy Brittany’s endless need for cock. Round and round they went, changing partners and positions frequently but never once stopping for even the briefest break.



Time slid past. There was no telling how long he’d been under the influence of the glamour, but his sense slowly returned to him. And once they did, Cahill knew for certain that there had indeed been a glamour involved. His sisters were certainly desirable, but no one besides his mother had ever previously made him feel like it would be better to die than to pause for so much as a second.



Whatever had allowed him to regain control of his mental faculties hadn’t reached the others, though. Seamus and Brittany were doing the reverse spoon. Finnegan and Fiona were in the cobra position. Both guys were completely naked. The women wore nothing but their shiny heels, silver and ruby.



Cahill almost considered diving back in. Free of the glamour he might be, but he was still susceptible to ordinary desire. And the four of them made quite a sight.



But it was long past time to find his mother.



#



Cahill jogged down the yellow brick road, wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and nothing else. Gone were the tail and knit cap. His facial hair was once again neatly trimmed length and his body had returned to its usual coloration. He was done playing Toto. The others could keep up the game if they wanted. That was no skin off his nose. But it was as Cahill that he would make Caronwyn his. As a man, not a cute little puppy dog.



“Where you off to in such a hurry?” asked a voice whose pitch left no doubt as to the identity of the speaker.



Cahill sighed and looked over his shoulder.



Sure enough, there was Oona. She stood atop an abandoned cottage, the way the Wicked Witch had in that scene where she threw a fireball at Scarecrow. Only his aunt wasn’t carrying a broom, and the only fire to be seen lay behind his aunt’s dark eyes. As she drank in his bare chest and toned abs, her dark irises gleamed and her Libido pulsed. It was not with hatred or malice that she stared so intently at him, but hunger.



“Where are your lackies?” he asked.



“Serving the Good Witch,” she replied.



Cahill’s stomach churned.



That was ridiculous, he knew. If there was any sense in which he and his mother were in a relationship, it certainly wasn’t a monogamous one. Even when they weren’t acting out one of Oona’s little dramas, both he and Caronwyn took other lovers. And they did so quite frequently. After all, their whole clan was highly promiscuous. All the fey were. That was just how things worked differently in Faerie, and indeed throughout all the Homelands.



He knew those things. But he was having trouble accepting them.



He didn’t care how many worlds full of immortals with loose sexual mores there were. His mother belonged to him. She might have the right to take other lovers from time to time, and he’d never try to stop her from exercising that right, but he’d never really be entirely okay with it. He’d always feel a little pang of jealousy upon hearing that she was with another man, let alone two of them.



The Wicked Witch floated down off the top of the cottage, her cape billowing up around her. She landed on the grass without impact and immediately started advancing towards Cahill. Her black eyes locked on his, paralyzing him.



On some level, Cahill was aware that his aunt was using glamour. Her Libido was glowing. He could even sense it slowly depleting. But those thoughts felt like the remnants of a dream. He was hypnotized by her dark eyes and her swaying hips, her bouncing breasts and her full lips, every bit as much as he was by any supernatural influence. He simply stood there, staring with wide eyes at the scantily-clad witch.



“Does that bother you?” his aunt asked. “Would you like to chase them off?”



He nodded.



Oona laughed. The sound of it was nothing like the cackle for which the Wicked Witch was so well-known. In truth, it was musical and pleasant and maybe even a little sexy.



Nonetheless, it sent a shiver down his spine. Perhaps precisely because it wasn’t the least bit wicked. Had it been, he’d have had an easier time convincing himself that he had to resist her. That his mother awaited him, and he couldn’t get distracted by lesser women.



“I’m not trying to keep you from her,” his aunt said, stepping onto the yellow brick road. Her heels clacked sharply with each step now. “At least, not for long.” She laid a hand on his chest so softly he could almost think that she was afraid of getting burned. “I just want to have a little fun with you before I send you on your way. That’s not so terrible, is it?”



The long lashes that batted up at him almost made him forget her green skin and elongated nose. Somehow, his aunt managed to be painfully gorgeous and appropriately garish at the same time. He wanted to be repulsed by her, or at least immune to her charm if nothing else. But the warmth of her hand on his skin, the feel of her soft palm gently rubbing back and forth, had his cock hardening. It didn’t help that the pure, unadulterated lust in her Libido was so powerfully contagious. Nor that those dark, dark eyes, beautifully framed by long lashes and thick eyeliner, were such a sight to behold.



Their lips met, and Cahill instantly achieved climax.



“I know I should be happy for her,” Oona said as he stumbled back, gasping for air. “That I should say I’m glad my sweet sister has found someone who appreciates her as much as you evidently do.” She fumbled at the clasp of her cape for a moment, found purchase, and freed herself of it. The garment fell to the floor with all the urgency of a feather or a dry leaf. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. No one’s ever felt for me what you feel for her. No one. Not even my own sons.”



That wasn’t true. It couldn’t have been. Reilly would do anything for her, and Finnegan had been the same way before Brittany had arrived. And though Cahill had never met his uncle Kearney, the little that he knew about him suggested that he was as smitten with Oona as any Dreamsmyth could be with a woman from Clan Walker.



Yet, at the same time, Cahill didn’t doubt his aunt’s words.



His cousins were attracted to their mother. Possessive of her, even. But she was only an object to them. A toy they didn’t like sharing. Of course they didn’t feel for her what he felt for his mother. And how could they, anyway? No man ever had felt for any woman what Cahill felt for Caronwyn.



Countless men before him had thought the same thing to themselves, he was sure. And, logically, that meant they’d all been wrong. It was absurd and pretentious and cliche to think his passion for his mother was so unique. But it didn’t matter to Cahill that it couldn’t possibly be true. Because it just didn’t.



Perhaps, then, he should have felt bad for his aunt. Pitied her for never knowing a connection as pure and as powerful as the one binding him to his mother. And, perhaps, part of him did. But he was too busy resenting his inability to take his eyes off her, and the sense of betrayal said inability made him feel, to bother.



Going up on tiptoes, his aunt kissed him again. This time, Cahill managed not to ejaculate, but it was a close thing.



The sad part was that she hadn’t infused that last kiss with much supernatural punch. Without really trying, his aunt had nearly gotten him to cum in his pants for a second time.



She was just that good, her desire for him that intense.



Cahill looked down at his aunt. She wasn’t bewitching him. Not anymore. Energy was no longer draining from her Libido like a candle slowly burning down. The desire he felt for her was not the product of undue influence. His thoughts and feelings were his own.

There was therefore no one to blame but himself for what came next.



His fingers brushed her corset and it shattered like glass. A thousand shards of shadow fell away harmlessly, leaving her in nothing but her boots and the fishnet body stocking. That, he’d rip holes in where necessary, but otherwise, he hoped she’d keep. It looked good on her. Maybe even more so now that her skin was green.



They kissed for a third time, and the rush that went through Cahill’s body was only slightly less intense than it had been the last time. His hands roamed across her body, delighting in her feminine curves. The color of her skin might have changed, but it was no less soft or pleasant to touch. Her hips could have been fuller, her ass larger, but there was no denying that was put together quite nicely.



“Lost your costume, huh?” his aunt asked after they finally came up for air.



“You just noticed?”



Her fingers slowly traveled over his abs. “Nooo. But I-”



He didn’t let her finish. By the time their lips parted, he had her on her back and his clothes had ceased to exist.



“Yes, yes, give it to me, Kay,” Oona panted, wrapping her thighs around him.



And he did just that.



Though Cahill didn’t let his aunt distract him for quite as long as his sisters had, neither did he rush things. After fucking her fast and hard, he slowed things down a lot. Her beautiful pussy got all the attention it deserved from his mouth and fingers, as did her big breasts and her tight little balloon knot. He guided her through several orgasms before letting her feel his thick dick inside her again. And again, and again.



#



After walking the yellow brick road alone for a good ten minutes, Cahill came across Reilly. His cousin still had his costume on.



Or had donned it once again. After getting busy with Caronwyn.



He suppressed a shutter at the thought.



“Where’s your hat?” Reilly asked by way of greeting.



Cahill grunted. He looked the redheaded brute up and down. The outfit ought to have made him look intimidating, but he actually looked pretty ridiculous.



“Your mother’s looking for you,” he said.



“Funny. Yours too,” Reilly said, a wicked grin splitting his green skin. “Actually…no, she’s not. Seems to be enjoying herself just fine without you, in fact.”



It took some effort not to break his cousin’s nose.



Reilly laughed and clapped Cahill on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll tire of Gallech eventually. Or maybe your brother will remember that he’s more interested in women who are actually attractive.”



“Fuck you,” Cahill said. He jabbed an elbow into the guy’s bare ribs, but not too hard. Just enough to convince him to stop with the taunts without provoking him to make something of it. “If your mother was half as hot, you’d never leave her side.”



Of course, he hardly ever did, and Cahill was well aware of it. But he didn’t believe for a second that his cousin didn’t find his aunt Caronwyn attractive. No man with even the slightest interest in women could resist her.



“So I see we’ve dispensed with the notion that you’re only interested in your sisters?” Reilly asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I wonder how our prince would react if he knew where you were headed.”



Time seemed to slow down. Cahill’s senses grew sharper. He became keenly aware of the soft breeze stirring the leaves all around them and the warmth of the sun reflected off the golden brick below them. The smell of sweat and sex on his cousin made him nauseous, as did the pompous look on Reilly’s green face.



“Why would he care?” Cahill asked slowly.



“Riiight,” Reilly replied with a knowing smile. “Anyway, have fun. My lips are sealed,” he added before heading off down the road.



Cahill stood there, seething. His cousin hadn’t come right out and said it, but he might as well have confessed that Gallech had gone to their father to tell him how much time Cahill was spending with their mother. That had been the real reason for the sudden visit the night before. That Cahill had come away from the exchange owed a major boon didn’t change the fact that his brother had betrayed him. Gallech couldn’t have known it would go down like that. He didn’t know about the flute, after all. Not even their mother did. No, his brother had fully expected the prince to punish Cahill. Or at least to threaten to do so, should Cahill refuse to keep his distance from Caronwyn.



The little shit.



With violent determination, Cahill resumed his journey. Only this time, he didn’t jog, but moved at a full sprint. The ground fell away behind him, brick after brick of gold whizzing past in the blink of an eye.



A few minutes later, he caught sight of them. They were on the grass just off to the side of the road. His brother was lying atop their mother, pumping his pathetic little manhood in and out of her gleefully. When he heard the footfalls approaching, Gallech looked up. Brown eyes went wide with panic and he rolled off Caronwyn. He only sat flat on his ass for a moment before clambering to his feet and bolting off in the opposite direction.



Somehow, Cahill found a way to pick up his pace. He’d thought he was been running as fast as he could already. But the sight of his brother fleeing from him, thereby providing all the admission of guilt Cahill could require, helped him to discover new limits.



“Wait! Kay!” their mother called as Cahill whizzed past her.



He hoped that would be the last time he ever ignored her like that. But no part of him so much as considered slowing down. Short as his older brother was, the fucker could move. Cahill was gaining ground on him fast, but even so, it looked like Gallech might get away.



As luck would have it, his brother remembered that he was still transformed. That he could fly. Feathery wings began pumping furiously, and Gallech’s feet left the ground.



Cahill leapt into the air.



For a split second, he thought it might be too late. His brother was climbing higher by the second, and he was pretty far ahead of Cahill. But his hands wrapped around his brother’s ankles and a sense of triumph swelled within him.



And then they hit the ground.



The air went out of Cahill’s lungs. Everything went black for a moment, and when his vision returned, it was filled with spots. He gasped and coughed, forgetting all about his brother as pain temporarily became the entirety of his existence.



Slowly, though, his faculties returned. And, fortunately enough, his brother was a little slower to recover. Cahill climbed atop Gallech’s back, kneeling on his wings, and put his older brother in a headlock.



“Geh la fug offa me,” Gallech managed through gritted teeth.



“You went to him,” Cahill said. “You petty fuck. Why?”



“Fuck you!”



Cahill arched his back, bending his brother’s neck in an unnatural way as he did. A pained groan escaped Gallech’s lips. “WHY?”



His brother didn’t reply. Just fought to break free of the headlock. He failed, but it was a valiant effort. Tall, Gallech wasn’t, but he was strong.



Suddenly, the struggle stopped.



“Let me up,” Gallech said in a voice that was almost calm.



Cahill hesitated. The sudden change was disarming. Perhaps he saw the futility of trying to escape. Then again, it could just as easily be a ploy. He’d never known his brother to be particularly cunning, but the guy’s head wasn’t exactly filled with rocks either.



“I won’t run,” Gallech added.



“Course not,” Cahill replied. “Why do that when you can fly?”



“I mean I won’t go anywhere, you dumb fuck.”



Despite himself, Cahill laughed at that. So headstrong was his brother that he couldn’t even bring himself to beg properly.



He didn’t trust the prick, but he didn’t need to keep sitting on him either. With a flick of his wrists, Cahill bound his brother’s wrists and ankles in shackles. Thick chains tethered the irons to steel rungs in the road. Certain that Gallech wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry, Cahill climbed off his brother’s back and rose to his feet.



With pure hatred in his eyes, Gallech looked up at Cahill. Slowly, he too rose to his feet. He gave his chains a rattle, but the feeble gesture was more symbolic than anything.



“What are you going to do with me?” his older brother asked.



Cahill sighed. “Just answer my fucking question. Why’d you do it?”



“Because fuck you. That’s why.”



“You can’t make her love you,” Cahill said.



“Love?” his brother asked, filling the word with contempt and disgust. “Who said anything about love? Don’t tell me that’s what you’re after? You know that’s not how it works here. You’re not in the Dreaming anymore, little brother.”



Cahill didn’t reply.



“What did he threaten you with, anyway?” Gallech asked, with a hint of something very much like sympathy in his voice. He was probably only asking out of curiosity, but he feigned the rest remarkably well. “Our father?”



“Nothing.”



“Fine. Don’t tell me,” Gallech replied.



“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” Cahill said. The chains and irons disappeared. “Get out of my sight.”



His brother stared back at him, looking uncharacteristically meek. Then, without another word, he turned and leapt to the sky.



#



“I should probably be flattered,” his mother said when he returned to her. “But that little display wasn’t nearly as endearing as you might have thought it was.”



Cahill drew a deep breath. Though she wore her full costume once more, he didn’t see Caronwyn the Good Witch when he looked at her. The bright pink heels and layered pink skirts weren’t registering. Nor were her white stockings or striped corset. The wand and crown, gloves and epaulets, all of it, might as well not have existed. All he saw was a woman lying flat on her back, buck naked, getting reamed by his brother.



And absolutely loving it.



“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, because it felt like he should.



She looked him up and down, frowning. “What am I going to do with you, Kay?”



He shrugged.



“Come here,” she said, beckoning him forth with a jerk of her head. When he drew up near her, she hugged him tight, resting her cheek against his chest. “I love you, sweetie.”



Cahill froze.



“Just as I love all my boys,” she added.



The world fell to pieces.



But she couldn’t have meant it. She was looking him dead in the eye now, and the look on her face said she was as serious as could be, but her Libido told a very different story. Had been doing so for some time. They weren’t supposed to say such things aloud. She wouldn’t allow herself to tell him the truth. That was all it was. There was no way she had the very same feelings for him that she did for Gallech.



Again, the sight of her full thighs wrapped around his brother’s back flashed across his mind’s eye. He saw her red nails digging into his brother’s blue flesh. Heard her sighing and moaning. Saw her full red lips nibbling at his ears.



And it excited him.



That wasn’t all it did. Mostly, it made him feel nauseous. But little Cahill was stirring at the memory. No question about it.



Having her huge, soft breasts pressed against him wasn’t the reason either. Nor was the smell of her hair or the buzz in her Libido. It was the thought of Gallech giving it to her good, and the fear that she’d enjoyed it thoroughly.



“You want me to say that he forced himself on me? That I don’t enjoy it?” she asked.



Cahill’s powerful muscles tensed for a brief moment. He forced himself to release the tension as quickly as he noticed the involuntary reaction. But he didn’t do so quickly enough. Another woman might not have noticed, but his mother’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly in disapproval of his jealousy.



“We fuck so much lately, baby. Besides Oona, your brother doesn’t fuck anyone else. He wants it all the time. And you know what? I’d be lying if I said I had a problem with that.”



That time, he didn’t react. Not physically, anyway. She’d notice the way his Libido went still as a frozen pond, of course. He couldn’t help that. But Cahill was proud of the fact that his body, at least, did not betray him.



“Are you going to tell me that I’m the only one you’re interested in?” she continued. “That you had such a hard time feigning interest in your sisters?”



“I get it,” Cahill said.



“Do you?”



“Yeah, I do,” he said. Stroking her beautiful red hair, he added, “Things work differently here. I’m not in the Dreaming anymore.”



“No, you’re not,” his mother said.



“We’re not…you and I don’t…,” he tried to finish the thought, but to even say that certain things weren’t true was to admit that the possibility had occurred to him.



His mother nodded.



And yet, the air didn’t crackle with energy when he stood in Fiona’s presence. Oona’s Libido didn’t pulse in time with his. Brittany didn’t look as though she had to remind herself to breathe whenever Cahill was around, nor did she cause his lungs to cease functioning.



“Doesn’t mean that what we have isn’t special,” she said, as if reading his thoughts.



“Of course not,” Cahill said, as if he hadn’t thought his mother was saying precisely that.



She gave him a knowing smile. Then, taking his hand in hers, she lead him over to the side of the road. The fattest, juiciest, ripest strawberries he’d ever seen grew there. His mother plucked one off a runner.



Turning back to him, she slowly raised the fruit to her red, red lips. Brown eyes held regarded him flatly, unblinking, noting his sharp intake of breath. Cahill’s body tensed up as his mother’s plump lips parted and the strawberry slid past them. Just as he was sure she was going to bite it in half, the fruit retreated. The tip of her tongue appeared and worked tip of the strawberry a few times, the way it did when she licked away his pre-cum. That made Cahill shudder. And when his mother finally did sink her impossibly white teeth into the red fruit, his shudder turned into a spasm.



“Here,” she said, wedging the other half of the fruit into his mouth.



Before he could bite down, she pressed her mouth to his. They finished the strawberry together, their lips coming together in a soft kiss as they did.



Never in his life had Cahill tasted anything so sweet.



And the fruit was pretty good too.



When their lips parted, he gasped for air. His whole body tingled. It took him a moment to remember that he was standing on solid ground rather than floating on thin air.



“The other day, he asked me if I plan on having any more children,” his mother said casually, as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted by the most magical of kisses.



It took Cahill a few moments to remember what they were talking about. Who they were talking about.



“He what?”



“I know!” his mother said. “Obviously he couldn’t have meant that, but still.”



Gallech wanted…no, his mother was right. That couldn’t have been what his brother had meant. Not with her. More likely, he’d known that their mother would tell Cahill about it, and how his younger brother would react to the news.



Even so, it made his blood boil.



“What did you say?” Cahill asked, trying to sound disinterested.



His mother gave him a sly grin. “What do you think I said?” Before he could answer what was apparently a rhetorical question, she added, “Of course not. Soon enough, you all will be making a grandmother out of me. Why would I want any more children of my own?”



Why indeed.



“Besides,” she said, snatching up another strawberry, “it’s not like your father has been dying to get back between my legs.”



Right. His father. The good prince. Who else?



Her pearly whites rent the glistening flesh. Then, as before, she offered him the rest. This time, though, she popped it into his mouth without pressing her luscious lips to his. Which probably should have kept him from swooning. Still, a shiver ran down his spine.



He’d never realized how tantalizing it could be to watch his mother eat fruit. To have her share her strawberry with him in a literal sense.



“I do find other women attractive,” Cahill said after he swallowed the remnants of the strawberry. “But not the way I do you.” Her lips tightened and she started to protest. Before she could, he pulled her against him. He gave his mother’s fat ass a good squeeze, silencing her. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t play by the rules.”



“No?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. “So what are you saying?”



“I don’t know,” Cahill replied.



“Hmm,” his mother said. One slender finger ran up his sternum. “So you don’t think Mommy’s breasts are too big?”



Cahill snorted derisively.



“My red hair doesn’t bother you?”



“Are you kidding?” he asked. “It’s beautiful.”



Her finger made its way to his face. The light-as-a-feather touch could not have been more titillating. “But you must think my ass is too big? My thighs too full? Right?”



“If your sister had a lower body like yours, she might have had a shot at convincing me to join her fan club,” Cahill replied. “Probably not, but it wouldn’t have hurt her chances.”



As his mother’s one finger raked across his scalp, bolts of ecstasy shot through his body. He wanted nothing more than to rip all of her clothes off and prove to her just how much he cherished every inch of her divine form, but he sensed that she wasn’t done yet.



“Speaking of fan clubs,” his mother said playfully, “no one seems to mind that she’s got such a tight little ass or such long, slender legs.”



“And some men like men,” Cahill said. “Nothing wrong with that. But it ain’t for me.”



“What if your mother’s pussy lips were a little more modest? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And I know you wouldn’t complain if I went bald.”



The hand on his mother’s ass slid down, beneath the hem of her skirts, and slipped past a soft buttock to her womanhood. The tips of his fingers brushed her swollen labia. Now it was her turn to take a deep breath and shudder softly.



“Not at all.” His hand retreated, pausing to give her soft ass a good squeeze before withdrawing entirely and allowing her skirts to fall back into place. “Women who remind me of little girls don’t do a whole lot for me.”



“I always wanted green eyes,” his mother said. She teased the nape of his neck lightly with her fingernail. “Don’t you think Fiona’s are gorgeous?”



“They suit her, since she’s a brunette,” he said.



“What’s that got to do with it?” his mother asked.



“Brunettes tend to have brown eyes,” Cahill replied. “Redheads lighter ones. If she had your eyes, or you hers, it’d be predictable. Boring.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got to say, though, Fiona gives amazing head.”



The hand resting on his neck delivered a swift smack. But the smile on his mother’s lips told him that she recognized the joke for what it was.



Not that what he said wasn’t true. But the implication that Fiona’s oral skills were any better than their mother’s was pure jest.



“Perhaps you can give me a few pointers then?” she asked, going to her knees. “Let me know what your sister would do differently?”



“Suppose so,” he said, running his fingers through her silky hair.



With that, his mother made his clothes vanish. When his swollen cock sprang into view, her beautiful brown eyes went wide and she involuntarily licked her luscious lips. Cahill would never tire of seeing that reaction. It was stupid and vain and thoroughly Oedipal, but nothing gave him the same sense of validation as the way his mother’s mouth watered at the sight of his swollen manhood. If every other woman alive thought him small, that alone would be more than enough to make up for it. That no woman ever had did nothing to detract from the pleasure of seeing his mother’s reaction either.



Once she engulfed him, it took her no time at all to make him forget all about his plans to continue teasing her. His mother was a true master of her craft, and Cahill was in a receptive mood. If she’d have let him, he’d have filled her mouth with his warm seed almost straight away. But she seemed intent on proving that she could mimic the abilities of her sister, rather than his. She brought him to the brink, eased off, then pushed him to the edge again. And again. And again. Her tongue did unspeakable things to his member, and she gently caressed his balls with her fingers as she worked. Tears formed in Cahill’s eyes, but still his mother didn’t let him cum. She waited the longest time before granting him his sweet release. When it finally arrived, he cried out at the top of his lungs. Then his knees buckled, and Cahill fell to the grass in a motionless heap.

“So, I’ve got a lot to work on then, huh?” his mother asked as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Still on her knees, she shuffled over towards him and climbed atop him, showering kisses on his forehead and nose and lips. “I did my best, you know.”



Cahill tried to laugh. It came out more like a cough though.



“It’s too bad I can’t compare to those other girls,” his mother said.



He managed to give her ass a limp slap. Even that nearly took more effort than he could muster. She’d drained the life right out of him, in the best possible way.



But then, as his weary eyes rested for but a moment, he saw her with Gallech again. Not even as he’d found them, this time. His mind conjured up all sorts of depraved images, imagining the various acts that might have taken place before he’d arrived on the scene.



Reinvigorated by his jealousy, Cahill grabbed his mother by the bottoms of her buttocks and guided down onto his hard cock. As his thick member pushed past her folds, she let out a whimper. Her walls fought him at first, but they surrendered quickly.



“Oh, Kay,” she moaned against his chest, her head apparently too heavy all of a sudden to hold up. “That feels…mmmmm.” If she’d intended to complete the thought with anything other than a contented moan, she’d apparently changed her mind somewhere along the way.



Or maybe he just hadn’t heard her.



It felt so good to be back inside his mother, where he belonged, that he couldn’t really focus on anything else. Her pussy was warm and tight, but that was only the beginning of it. After all, what woman wasn’t? When he slid inside her, though, he felt something more than mere physical perfection. The weight of the world lifted, all his worry and jealousy and anxiety fading away. Infinite bliss filled the void left behind.



“That’s it, sweetie,” his mother whispered, starting to work her hips. A soft clap rang out each time her body smacked against his. “Give it to Mommy, the way only you can.”



Yes. The way only he could. Fuck Gallech.



Cahill slowly stripped his mother of her costume. Most of it, at any rate. The stockings, heels, and gloves remained. He liked the way she looked in them. But he needed unfettered access to the rest of her body. More hands than he could count soon appeared, only a few of which were attached to anything. Some were his, some his mother’s, he slowly realized. She pressed her palms softly against his toned abs, squeezed his hard pecs, dug her nails into his meaty shoulders, and gripped his biceps like railings. All while holding his hands in hers sweetly. For his part, Cahill was holding his mother’s perfectly curved calves, caressing her soft thighs, kneading her fat ass like dough, gripping her hips firmly, fondling her huge breasts, and running his fingers through her radiant hair.



They stared intently into one another’s eyes. Neither spoke a word for the longest time. There was no need to. Their bodies were doing all the talking.



She hadn’t actually said that he meant no more to her than Gallech. She’d strongly implied it, but no more than that. Nor could she have said as much. He was sure of that now, if he’d ever really had cause to doubt it.



When his mother pressed yet another strawberry to his lips, he couldn’t help but taste her. If he hadn’t felt as though he might lose his hold on reality at any moment, he’d perhaps have stopped to consider the possibility that the strawberries hadn’t been there before. That they’d been conjured up by his mother precisely because she knew that they would remind him of her juices. But that thought would come later. Just at the moment, it was all he could do to keep his sense of self, his awareness of who and where and what he was, from being swept away in a tidal wave of ecstasy.



Every little sound excited him, from the slap of her thighs against his to the wet sound of their lovemaking and the whimpers and sighs escaping his mother’s throat. Each time he drew a breath, his nose was treated to the pleasure of his mother’s scent. It lurked beneath the smell of their sweat and that of the land around them, but it was unmistakeable all the same. He was too finely attuned to that delightful aroma for it to escape his notice.



“Kay,” his mother said at last, the sound of urgency in her voice.



“Don’t stop,” he said.



Nor did she. In fact, she sped up. And a few bounces later, she erupted into orgasm, sweeping him along with her. Their bodies convulsed as one and their Libidos fused together. His energy didn’t flow into her any more than hers did him. For a time, at least, there simply was no distinction between what was his and what was hers. They were afloat together, weightless, in a vast galaxy of pure contentment.



Ever so slowly, his consciousness squeezed itself back into the confines of his corporeal form, and he became aware of the physical effects his massive orgasm. Endorphins coursed through his blood. Every muscle relaxed to the fullest, save for those needed to breathe.



“Wow,” he said at last.



“Yeah,” his mother agreed, resting her head against his shoulder.



At first, they simply lay there in peace and quiet. As the beautiful numb left by their mutual climax faded, they started to get a little frisky again. Their hands explored one another’s bodies, and their lips were drawn to each other like magnets. Just as Cahill felt that they were on the brink of another round of intercourse, he abruptly rolled his mother off him and onto her back.



“Oof,” she said, exaggeratedly, as if he’d let her hit the ground with any real force. “What are you doing, baby? Don’t you want to keep going?”



“Very much so,” he said as he sat up. “But first, there’s something I need to do.”



“And what’s that?” she asked, a hint of anxiety in her voice.



By way of response, he slipped her shoes off, turned her stockings into smoke, and began making love to her feet. She cooed softly as his hands went to work giving her the best massage possible. When he took her toes in his mouth, she moaned the way no mother should for her son. Had it been her stiff little clitoris he was was sucking on instead, she could hardly have responded more delightfully.



“I love your pretty little toes,” Cahill said as he pulled back from one of them. “And this beautiful arch,” he added, planting kisses along one sole. “You have the sexiest ankles,” he continued, before swirling his tongue around the sharp protrusion.



“Go on,” his mother said, giggling.



And he did. In just that manner, he worked his way up her shapely legs to her magical hips. It made no sense for a woman with a waist as slender as hers to have such wide hips, but that only made Cahill desire her that much more. They were easily twice as wide as her waist. More so. The exaggerated hourglass shape to her figure drove him insane with lust. Addicted as he was to her hips, he didn’t allow himself to linger too long. Her bountiful bosom called to him, and he was not about to refuse.



“Ooooh, Kay,” his mother moaned throatily.



Her nipples were swollen and stiff, nearer to red than pink. He went easy on them at first, delivering the lightest flicks with his tongue and brushes with his fingers. But he gradually worked his way up to sucking on them vigorously, giving her the occasional gentle love bite. And it didn’t take long before that brought her to climax. Not that he stopped after it did, of course. Not until the third nipplegasm. Her perfect breasts demanded lots of attention, and he was more than happy to provide it.



“Please, baby,” she said after that, her hips writhing beneath him. “I need you so bad. My insides are on fire. There’s an ache from my cunt to my navel. Only that big dick of yours will make the pain go away.”



“Sounds like a personal problem,” he said as he rolled her onto her stomach. She didn’t offer any resistance, though she did let out a groan or protest. “Maybe I’ll get around to it eventually,” he added, before setting to work on her back and shoulders.



Despite his words, though, her pleas had not fallen on deaf ears. He could feel her longing for him. Her Libido was humming. So he moved quickly through the rest of his ritual. The taut ropes of muscles framing her spine’s ridge of lovely little bumps didn’t get much attention. Nor did take the time to properly admire the gentle V of her tailbone. He didn’t work his way back down her perfect thighs to her lovely feet either. He played with the beautiful white cheeks of her big, round ass for a bit, slapping and squeezing and kissing and biting them, but he transitioned pretty quickly into performing analingus. And he didn’t take his time with the rim job as he might have if her need to feel him inside her wasn’t so palpable. The smooth pink flesh of her little rosebud was nearly as enjoyable to pleasure as her vagina was, but Cahill knew that his mother wasn’t in the mood for the most torturously slow and methodical version of this routine.



She grew a little less impatient when he instructed her to roll onto her back again. But he could still feel her need bearing down on him. He didn’t tease her…much. The time from his first slow lollipop lick to when he cupped her clitoris with his lips and sucked on it while his fingers went to war with her G-spot was relatively minimal.



After she burst, spraying ejaculate like a fountain, he put his mother’s suffering to an end. He desperately wanted to savor her taste some more. Eating her pussy was a delight unlike any other. But it was time to give her what she needed.



What they both needed.



They started off with her on her back. Cahill picked his mother’s legs up and propped them on his shoulders. He drove into her so hard that her hips rolled back and her knees came within a few inches of her face. If her breasts weren’t so big, the two might even have made contact, even though she was pushing against his biceps as hard as she was.



From that angle, he could penetrate her deeply and effortlessly. And with a slight adjustment to his shape, every thrust not only stimulated her cervix, but her G-spot as well.



But what was really called for was doggy style.



After bringing his mother to the brink of orgasm, he withdrew and told her to turn around. With a twinkle in her eye, she did as he bid her.



For a moment or two, Cahill just stood and stared at his mother’s incredible backside. He sometimes forgot how impossibly proportioned she was. How big her ass was, despite the fact that her waist was thinner than one of his biceps. It wasn’t just big, either. It was perfectly shaped, each half looking like an inverted tear drop from this angle.



Then she gave her hips a shake, forcing him out of his reverie. His eyes traveled a little further south, taking note of the fruit she was offering him and the juices glistening at the juncture of her thighs. Her labia were swollen and moist, beckoning him to come home.



Taking hold of her broad hips, he did just that.



“Ooooh,” they sighed in unison as he slid his dick into her warm hole.



Cahill took a moment to accommodate himself. To absorb the wonders of her body. To wrap his head around the fact that he was taking his mother from behind, like an animal.



Even now, after having committed incest on a daily basis for fifteen years, there were still times when the depravity of it came out of nowhere and smacked him upside the head. He wasn’t just having sex with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.



This was the woman who’d brought him into the world. He was balls deep inside the very womb in which his life had begun. Nothing could be more wrong.



Or more rewarding.



Such thoughts occupied his mind for a few brief instants, but no longer. All his quiet composure disappeared. Like a man possessed, he started slamming into her, pumping away at his mother’s pussy furiously.



“Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck me baby,” his mother panted.



Inside, she was milking him for all she was worth. Her muscles contracted around him every time he pushed forward, then relaxed to allow him to pull back again. Energy was flowing out of her too, heightening his sensitivity. He wasn’t going to be able to last long.



But then, neither was she.



“You’re so big,” she moaned, head hanging low. “Fuck. I can’t handle how good this feels. It’s…ungh, oh yeah…mmmph, Mommy’s gonna cum, baby.”



Soon thereafter, her words became as indecipherable as the grunts escaping his own mouth. They picked up the pace, frantically chasing the big O they knew to be just ahead. Ever faster and ever harder, they fucked each other mercilessly. A primal hunger had taken them both over. They were no longer in control of their own bodies, but slaves to their lust.



And then it hit.



As before, they achieved climax at the same time. Cahill felt their Libidos come together as one. Not literally, of course. If such was even possible, no one had seen fit to tell him. But it might as well have been true, so powerful was their shared sense of intimacy.



To all outward appearances, his mother was paralyzed by the ecstasy. The strong muscles in her back were taut and still. Her held was tipped slightly back, her radiant red hair fanned out across her pale flesh, as though she were emitting a silent scream. Her beautiful hips ceased their rocking, and her gorgeous ass no longer rippled hypnotically. But for a few light trembles and twitches, her body was perfectly still. On the outside. Inside, her walls were spasming wildly, coaxing his strong seed out of him.



His cock was shooting ropes of cum inside his mother’s womb. He was bleeding energy and filling her with his jizz at the same time. If his mother really wanted to, she could take it all. Take everything he had to offer. His cum, his energy, even his life. She’d never do that, of course, but in that moment, she had the power to. He was helpless before her, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. His balls fought hard to meet the endless demand, but seeking to satisfy their insatiable master was a Sisyphian task. Not that Cahill would wish to free them of their duty. No woman could make him cum so much, and there was no woman for whom Cahill would so eagerly allow himself to be thoroughly drained.



Gradually, the sensation of being drained fell away. He was still dimly aware of it, but he was swept away by a powerful sense of euphoria. He almost felt as though he was watching from a distance as his body struggled in vain to give his mother what she wanted. And from outside his body, he saw that he too had gone still as a statue, save for a few twitches here and there, and for the frantic hopping of his poor, overworked testicles.



Once the out-of-body experience that came from such intense orgasms ended, Cahill collapsed atop Caronwyn. He didn’t even bother to pull out.



“Mmm. You know, we might just make a decent lover out of you yet,” his mother said.



“Some day,” Cahill agreed, still too deep in a state of euphoria to bother feigning offense. Besides, he knew the truth. His mother had never had a lover like him. She didn’t need to say it for him to know, for an absolute certainty, that it was true.



“I love you,” he said before planting a kiss on her cheek.



His mother’s body tensed up.



“I love you too, sweetie,” she said back, in a voice so calm he might even have believed that his words hadn’t freaked her out, were it not for the way her body and her Libido reacted. “You know that.”



“No,” Cahill said. “I love you. Not as a boy loves his mother, but as a man loves a woman. And I don’t care if we’re not supposed to say such things, or if we can’t be together like a normal couple. I’ve never loved anyone but you. On some level, I think every girl I dated back in the Dreaming knew it. That’s why they all left me. They didn’t know it was my mother, but they knew my heart belonged to another.”



No response came.



For a moment, he feared that she might scream for him to get off her, or try to fight her way free. But she didn’t. His mother just lay there in silence, still as a statue.



“Mom?”



“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words,” she said. Her words were strained, like she was fighting back tears. “But we can’t do this, baby. I want to. I want to so bad. But it’s just not how things-”



“Fuck that,” Cahill said. “I’m tired of hearing about how things work. You know what I think? They work however you want them to, as long as there’s no one to tell you otherwise.”



“But there is! Your father-”



“Won’t say anything,” Cahill said.



His mother laughed hysterically. “Honey, that’s sweet and all, but-”



So, at long last, Cahill told his mother about the boon his father now owed him. He left Liadan out of the tale, as he’d promised his aunt that he would. Telling the tale without any outright lies was a hard thing, and deceiving his mother hurt more than words could describe, but he was physically incapable of discussing the role his aunt had played in bringing him to Faerie.



If she thought it as foolish for him to have handed the flute over as he’d long expected her to, she did a good job of hiding it.



“And that’s all he said?” she asked when he finished his tale.



“Yeah,” Cahill replied.



He could almost hear her thinking that there had to be a catch. It was only natural that she’d expect there to be. It did seem too good to be true.



But what could the prince do?



“It’s really that simple,” Cahill told her. “We can be together. No matter what the rules are. As long as Dad’s the Prince of the Emerald Court, and I can’t imagine that anyone’s going to be challenging his rule now that he’s got the power to feast on mass numbers of mortals all at once, we can do as we please.”



“Oh, baby,” his mother said, sounding sad.



Cahill didn’t reply.



“It’s never that simple. He’ll find a way to make you waste that boon. Put you in a terrible position just so you can have him get you out of it, thereby repaying the debt in full. You can’t just hold this over his head forever.”



She was right, of course. His mother was always right. There was a reason she’d been chosen to serve as Clan Matriarch. He shouldn’t have needed her to explain any of that anyway, though. The old tales were all pretty clear about such things. The fey were devious creatures. Sure, they always honored their promises, strictly speaking. Just as they never lied. But that only counted for so much.



“They.” Why was he still thinking in those terms? Time to admit that he was fey too.



“We’ll figure something out,” Cahill said. “Besides, that’s not the point. You can’t just choose not to feel something. I’m madly in love with you. And I know you feel the same. We can’t stop loving each other just because it might get us into trouble.”



“No,” his mother said, in a small voice. “We can’t.”



“So say it back. Like you mean it.”



She drew a deep breath. “I love you, Cahill. With all my heart.”



They shared a long, deep kiss. While their lips were still locked, his mother started gently pumping her hips. At first, he thought she was just being playful. But before long, it became clear that they were going at it again. As befitted the lazy doggy position, their movements were slow and sensual.



“Mmm, fuck, I just can’t get enough of you,” Cahill panted.



“That’s not the worst problem to have,” his mother said back.



Cahill chuckled at that.



But soon enough, they each grew silent. Every little thrust filled him with unbearable pleasure, and simply processing it all took everything he had. The same was true for his mother, to judge by the reactions of her Libido. They hadn’t intentionally amplified one another’s sensitivity, but it was if they had.



From this angle, his every thrust reached deep inside her. Big as he was, some women would have struggled to enjoy that, even given the slow tempo. But his mother’s body accommodated itself to him perfectly. The fit was tight, but not unpleasantly so.

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