Homelands Pt. 08 Ch. 03

No less awkwardly than before, and with no less rapt attention, Cahill watched his mother fuck Kearney. The bedroom could have caught fire, and he wouldn't have noticed. From his painfully distant position, he could see the entire room. But there was no room in his mind for dressers and closets, mirrors and plasma TVs. He was completely focused on the queen-sized bed and the queen of desire working her magic atop it.

His mother rode her little study enthusiastically, making the sorts of sounds that might lead a casual observer to think she was having the best sex of her life. Cahill knew better, but he could tell by her Libido that she was enjoying herself. Mostly only because of the way she knew she was torturing him, he hoped, but he didn't think she'd be faking an orgasm.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he saw her Libido erupt like a volcano. When her shudders and spasms passed, he noticed a distinct drop in her energy levels. Unwittingly or not, Kearney had feasted heartily off an intense climax.

"Should I stop?" Kearney asked awkwardly.

As if he was even doing anything but lying there. Well, and groping her.

"Mmmm," Caronwyn replied helpfully.

Kearney looked a question at Cahill, who simply shrugged. "She's the boss," he told his neighbor. "But she'll probably let you know when she's had enough."

"Probably?"

"Never reached that point myself," Cahill replied.

At that point, his mother took matters in her own hands. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her feet flat on the bed, so that she was sitting on Kearney rather than kneeling over him. Then she guided his hands around back to her bare ass for a little support and started bouncing up and down. Slowly, at first, but with increasing velocity.

"I could get used to this," Kearney said.

"Don't plan on it," Cahill mumbled under his breath.

The older man glanced at him briefly, but when Cahill didn't clarify himself immediately, he lost interest. His eyes returned to the beautiful redhead above him and the breasts bouncing hypnotically between her arms.

Fortunately for Cahill, the little man didn't last much longer. And even more fortuitously, his mother decided she was tired of Kearney after that. She flopped onto her back and summoned her son to bed. He stopped at her feet, knowing she expected him to attend to parts somewhat northward, and started massaging slowly.

"Please," his mother shortly after he'd moved from one foot to the other.

"Getting impatient already?" he asked, as if he didn't know the answer.

Kearney barely hid a shocked cough. Clearly, he couldn't fathom how a man could refuse her. If he ever bothered to kiss her feet, though, to caress her calves and sink his teeth gently into her big fat ass, he'd understand. His mother's body was a delicacy to be savored.

Caronwyn huffed at her son. Her head fell back against the fluffy pillow. "Can we at least do the abridged version?"

"I think not," Cahill replied.

Not after what she'd just put him through.

Of course, she enjoyed the torture as much as he did. More so, even. It just took a while for her to accept that he wasn't going to give in. That she had no choice but to enjoy the dish he'd served, even if it wasn't the one she'd ordered. By the time he made it to her hips, she'd let go of her resignation. The orgasm she experienced while he sucked on her nipples was modest enough, but the two that followed were not. And the one that came at the end of his tour of her body proved the theatrics she'd showered on Kearney for what they were.

For his part, he thoroughly enjoyed every moment. When it came to oral sex, Cahill wasn't sure whether he preferred giving or receiving. He was tempted to say the former, so long as the woman he was pleasuring was his mother. He simply couldn't get enough of her impossibly voluptuous, unbelievably luscious body.

In truth, he wished he could have spent more time worshipping her. But after her heavy eyelids finally opened again, and remained open without fluttering, Cahill moved on to the next stage. If he didn't, his mother might have attacked him.

"About time," she said lazily as he knelt between her legs and prepared to shove his huge dick into her eager pussy.

"What's that?" he asked running his head up and down her slit. "Did you say you want me to tease you a while longer?"

"Damnit, Kay," she said. "Just fuck me already!"

If Kearney noticed her use of a name he'd never heard, it didn't show. He was too busy wondering what sort of man could resist the warmth of her embrace, even for a few seconds.

Both reactions amused him.

"If you insist," he told his mother, forcing most of his length inside with a single thrust.

She let out a delicious whimper, equal parts suffering and bliss. Inside, her love canal slowly adjusted to his incredible size. Cahill wondered if it bothered her that he hadn't given her the chance to do so before he buried himself to the hilt.

He rather doubted it.

As her inner muscles slowly relaxed, turning her choke hold into a firm grip, his mother let out a sigh. Her eyes closed and her considerable chest heaved. That was not the look of a woman experiencing anything but utter bliss.

Nothing pleased him more than seeing that look on his mother's face, and knowing he was responsible for it. That their coupling brought him a great deal of pleasure as well was almost beside the point. He'd open a thousand cuts in his skin and roll around in a bed of salt if it would please her half as much as their lovemaking did.

"That's exactly what I needed," she purred.

"Not quite, but we're getting there," he said, earning a wicked smile from the painfully gorgeous redhead lying beneath him.

So, while an exhausted Kearney looked on in disbelief, Cahill fucked his mother even more furiously than he had before. He didn't quite push his body past mortal limits, but he bumped right up against them. The bed groaned in protest as it was forced to absorb the impact of his thrusts. If not for the energy he diverted to the frame and bedspring, they might well have dropped to the floor.

Of course, the need to reinforce the bed didn't slow him down in the least. Nor did it keep him from putting his powers to work in other ways. His mother could handle more than his huge cock, after all. And he was intent on giving her all that should could take. Accordingly, he summoned spectral hands and mouths again. There were limits to what he could do with them, of course, lest he allow Kearney to notice that something wasn't right. Mesmerized though the poor man might be, if Caronwyn's breasts started moving unnaturally or her nipples stretched out of as if being sucked on by a mouth that wasn't there, he just might notice. And start asking questions that were best saved for later. But even so, while Cahill stretched his mother's labia, poked her cervix, and stimulated her G-spot with his massive cock, he caressed her body with unseen hands, sucked on her swollen clitoris with a ghostly mouth, and teased her hard nipples with invisible tongues.

"Fuck, that feels good, baby," she moaned. "You're so big. Filling me up just right."

She'd made a show of pretending to enjoy Kearney's body, but she hadn't once told him that he had a big dick. That he filled her up right. No, those things she only told her son.

Cahill smiled at his mother before returning to kissing the pretty little foot he had propped up on his shoulder.

"That's it," she said, closing her eyes. "Almost there."

Apparently a bit rejuvenated, Kearney started stroking himself while he watched. The motion only registered in the back of Cahill's mind though, focused as he was on giving his mother the fucking she needed.

After several intense minutes, her body began to shake violently. A monster orgasm was setting upon her. By the end of it, she was almost motionless.

"Damn," Kearney said, staring at Cahill in awe.

He laughed awkwardly as he gently slid out of his mother's warm box.

When the beautiful goddess lying between them finally recovered her breath, the smaller man asked if he could cut in.

"No," Caronwyn replied, "but you can join in."

"Good enough," Kearney replied.

So the two of them worked in concert to tend to her many needs, finger-cuffing and double-penetrating again and again and again. For a long time.

#

"Fuuuck," Kearney said. With his fingertips pressed against his head like that, he almost looked as though he was trying to force his memories back inside their box. "That...that ... what the hell did you do?"

"Fixed you," Cahill wanted to say. But he held his tongue.

"You okay?" Caronwyn asked, a hand on the man's shoulder.

It took him a while to respond, but eventually Kearney nodded. The sudden recovery of so many missing memories could be more than a little overwhelming, after all.

He simply hung back, giving his uncle some space. His mother was better at this part anyway. Cahill's only contribution was to pour out some of the Irish and slide it across the coffee table to Kearney.

The wayward Dreamsmyth stopped the glass with the palm of his hand, acknowledged the offering with his eyes, and tipped it back. After taking a measure sip, he lowered the glass and smacked his lips. With a slow sigh, he returned the whiskey to the black marble surface of the coffee table.

For a moment, no one spoke. They just sat there, in the living room, looking at each other as if for the first time. They were all clothed now, if only partially. Of course, by fey standards, their scant attire practically counted as modest. Cahill wore black cotton drawstring pants, leaving his upper body exposed. His mother had wrapped a red silk robe around her perfect form. For his part, Kearney had donned a loose pair of satin boxers.

Cahill was surprised to note that Kearney's true form looked an awful lot like the old one. That wasn't to say he didn't look any better. He did. But Cahill had expected him to bulk up a bit more. Maybe grow a bit taller. The taut ropes of muscle had swollen up a little, and his skin had grown firmer, but he was still a pretty small guy. And though he was considerably more handsome now than he had been as Kevin, he still looked older than most of the fey. Girls who liked silver foxes would find him quite charming, especially if they like their guys nice and compact. But Kearney didn't exactly radiate youth or virility the way most men of Faerie did.

There'd been a time when Cahill had appeared a bit older himself, to be fair. But he'd never had a receding hairline or white facial hair. His skin had never born much resemblance to toughened leather. And once he'd spent some time in Faerie, the years had sloughed away. Now, he looked like he was in his twenties, the same as his brothers did.

"Thank you," Kearney told Cahill, though it wasn't clear whether he was referring to the whiskey or his memories. Perhaps both.

"No problem," he replied.

For a split second, he hoped his uncle would say more. Something that would put him in Cahill's debt. But the thought filled Cahill with guilt.

The poor man had been wronged enough by his own family. And though he might be a Dreamsmyth, Liadan was proof enough that he could use members of his father's own clan against him. Just as Teagan proved that there might be a few good apples in the bunch. He wouldn't take advantage of Kearney's weakness to claim a boon.

Cahill's mother gave him a sad look. Pleading him to get on with it.

Now that the fun had stopped, she was wracked with guilt over the decision to let her carnal desires delay their return to Faerie and thus their return to their children. Of course, with the time differential being what it was, the hours they'd wasted here had only cost them a few minutes there, but that didn't matter. With Niall and Tynan back on her mind, she wasn't thinking all that rationally.

Though he wasn't crazy about being on the wrong end of her impatience, the reason for said impatience only made Cahill love her all the more.

"Nice to have you back, Uncle Kearney," Cahill said.

"Uncle?" the man asked, as if surprised.

It took Cahill a moment to remember that he wasn't supposed to know who his father was, nor that he had sired Macha's children as well.

Sweeping that unimportant detail aside, Kearney said, "You must be Cahill." Then he turned to the beautiful redhead beside him and said, "Nice to see you again, Caronwyn."

She favored him with a terse smile.

Cahill almost expected his uncle to make some obnoxious remark about how he'd forgotten that Caronwyn was so good in bed. But he said nothing of the sort. In fact, he blushed before turning back to the nephew he'd never met.

He might not have had the look of the fey in certain respects, but there was no mistaking that this man shared Arawn's blood. He was smaller, leaner, and older, but Cahill still saw his father when he looked at Kearney.

Though he must have sensed that they were awaiting his testimony, Kearney attended to his whiskey first. He drank slowly and deliberately, like a man who didn't think he'd ever get another chance to do so.

"You hadn't yet been contacted when my brother sent me away," Kearney finally said wistfully. Suddenly, Cahill thought nothing more than an otherworldly calm was responsible for his uncle's dilatory behavior. He began his tale as though he were discussing the day he'd graduated from college rather than the day he'd been banished from Faerie with a broken mind. "I'd ask how long since you left the Dreaming, but I'm not sure I'm ready to hear it," he said with as much emotion as the coffee table over which he leaned.

"Not that long, actually," Cahill said. He failed to mention that he'd have joined his family a long time ago if he hadn't been so stubborn.

"Why'd he do it?" Caronwyn asked, her words clipped.

Kearney nodded to himself, as if that was exactly the question he'd been expecting. Unless he was daft, it undoubtedly was. Still, he apparently wasn't quite ready to answer her. Not until after he took yet another leisurely go at the whiskey.

"Because of you and your sister," he said softly, apparently mindful that his words could easily be mistaken for an accusation. "Or, more accurately, the children we had together."

Cahill coughed.

"He means my sister," Caronwyn said impatiently.

"Right," Kearney added, laughing. "Not your mother and I."

"Good to clear that up," Cahill replied.

He hadn't actually thought that his mother had born the man any children. If she had, this wouldn't be the first time Cahill would learn of it. He didn't think.

"I wanted to tell them who their real fathers were," Kearney explained. "Which is pretty silly, since they apparently found out anyway."

Caronwyn shook her head.

"No?"

"Kay knows," she said. "But the others don't." Her eyes drifted from the small man to Cahill. When she spoke, it was clear that her words were still intended for Kearney, but their was a message for her son in there as well. "He won't tell me how he managed to find out, but I can assure you that it wasn't from me. Oona and I kept our promise."

Cahill chose to ignore the subtext.

"That's all?" he asked his uncle. "Dad tried to get rid of you because you wanted your kids to know you were their father?"

His uncle shrugged. "Suppose it didn't help that I also made some noise about trying to persuade Mom that there'd be no harm in letting Clan Walker breed as they wish."

Cahill's eyes bulged. His mother's mouth hung agape.

"Yeah...," Kearney said, letting the sentence trail off. "Not my brightest idea." He took another sip of whiskey, looking for all the world like hadn't just dropped a huge bomb. "Should have gone to her myself, if anything. Wouldn't have gotten us anywhere, of course, but at least Arawn wouldn't have had any reason to do what he did. Not once the idea had already been put in her head, and dismissed out of hand."

Cahill tried to absorb the fact that his father had robbed his uncle of everything, including his self-awareness, just to keep Queen Titania from even hearing a proposal she'd have immediately denied. He tried, but he wasn't terribly successful.

How stupid was his uncle? And how unstable was his father?

"You really love her, don't you?" Caronwyn asked, a genuine smile on her face.

Kearney blushed again. "He loves you too, you know," he said after a fashion. "Has a funny way of showing it, but he does."

Caronwyn didn't reply.

"Anyway, that's all in the past," he said, convincing no one. "You've got Kay here, and I'm sure Oona's fallen for either Reilly or Finnegan by now." No one rushed to disabuse him of the notion, or to point out that she was just as fond of Gallech and Cahill. "Who knows which members of my family are going to refuse to speak to me, but whatever. That was no less true before I took my little vacation," he said with complete nonchalance.

Still more whiskey journeyed down his gullet while Cahill and his mother absorbed that.

"You sure it wasn't because he considered you a rival?" Cahill eventually asked. "My father's a bit paranoid and obsessed with power, isn't he?"

Kearney raised his glass to his nephew in salute. "That he is. But no. I don't think that was it. I'm the last person he'd worry about. Even Uillym would be a bigger threat. Or Quinn. I've never had any political ambition, and he knows that."

He said it so confidently that Cahill couldn't help but believe him. But he wasn't at all sure that his father believed it.

"I'd ask what you did to get on his bad side, but I guess it's obvious," his uncle said. "Where are the little ones anyway?"

"That happened after, actually," Caronwyn said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind a pointed ear. "We didn't even know. Thought we truly were husband and wife."

"Ha!" Kearney said. "Oh, Arawn's going to love that," he added with a smile. After another sip of whiskey, he said, "His plans always do find a way to backfire on him. I've tried telling him he should leave politics to Macha and Oberon, but he just won't listen."

Macha?

Cahill had never gotten the impression that his aunt was interested in anything but having fun. At times, he'd thought her no more mature than her daughter, which was saying something since Teagan acted as young as she looked, and she looked damn young.

"Anyway, they're in good hands," Cahill's mother continued. "And now that-"

Kearney waved away the rest of her sentence. "So what did you do?" he asked.

"No idea," Cahill said.

Apparently not content to take his nephew's word for it, Kearney turned to Caronwyn. She merely shrugged though, having no more information than her son.

"Why would your mother let him do that to you?" Cahill asked, changing the subject back to his uncle.

Kearney simply laughed.

"What?" Cahill asked.

"My mother lets her princes do just about whatever they want. To whomever they want," he said. "A few years ago, Macha Devoured Robin, who was our mother's favorite lover at the time. If he hadn't been, you can bet your ass my sister would still have her titles. But besides having to cede control of the Emerald Court to Arawn, she wasn't punished in the least. Mom just set about grooming Oberon to be Robin's replacement and that was that."

"That's...interesting," Cahill said.

Caronwyn gave him a curious look, but she didn't ask the question that was obviously on her mind. Which was just as well, since Cahill didn't have an answer for her. Not yet. The wheels were spinning, though.

"So," Kearney said before downing the remainder of his whiskey. "Shall we then?"

Cahill looked a question at his mother. It was a rather abrupt end to an enlightening conversation, but he sensed that his mother was once again eager to return to Faerie. Not that he could blame her. Their family needed them. Kearney might know something that would be of use, but Cahill didn't even know what they'd up against.