Homelands Pt. 08 Ch. 05

What other fey woman could bring herself to do that? For fifteen years?

"So," Cahill said, "that's why her fey form is different from the rest of ours?"

How had he missed that? They all appeared as otherworldly creatures, though some were more exotic than others. None of their fey forms represented beings that had ever set foot in the mortal world, except his mother's. According to legend, druids communed with beings from other worlds, wielded magicks, performed rituals, and spoke to fey almost as equals. But whatever the truth about their abilities, they were unequivocally of the mortal realm.

"And why our neck of the woods has grown a little more mystical since I left," Aeife said, as though he had any sort of basis for comparison on that point. "Why the creatures of the forest tread a little more softly around us."

"Huh," he said.

It wasn't the most articulate response, but he really had no idea what else to say.

"Nothing wrong with that," his grandmother said. "Just not quite what I'm used to."

"Which is?" he asked. "What was Faerie like when you were in charge?"

He wasn't sure if he was asking about the lands of Clan Walker in her time as matriarch or all of Faerie when she was queen. If that even made a difference.

Aeife smiled. "Unicorns and rainbows."

"Seriously."

She shrugged. "Not so different."

"Guess I'll find out soon enough?"

His grandmother cocked an eyebrow at him. "You think I'm going to take over?" Before he could even answer, she disabused him of that notion. "Your mother is no less fit to lead than I am. And you all know her better." As though it were no more than an afterthought, she then named what he suspected was the most important reason of all. "Besides, nothing would do more to fuel the queen's paranoia."

"You're not going to fade off then, are you?"

"No, no. Not for a good while yet," she replied. "There are, ah, some interesting possibilities I'd like to explore first."

At first he thought she meant him, but then he realized she was referring to Oberon. And though he'd enjoyed the fleeting notion that his grandmother saw him as worth sticking around for, that was for the best. He didn't need or want the complication.

"It'd certainly be poetic," Cahill said, watching out of the corner of his eye for any reaction. "And the anger it would cause Titania is no less than she deserves."

"You're not gonna go writing a song about it now, are you?"

Cahill laughed. "Don't worry. I don't make music. Just the things people make music with." He offered her his hand as they climbed over a fallen tree that lay in their path. "Well, okay. I play a bit. But not well. And only things other people have composed."

"Hmmm," she said.

"What?"

"Been a while since a Walker made anything with his hands. That's nearly as fabled a talent as musicianship," she said ominously.

Cahill suddenly recalled the old tales of men crafting magical items without knowing it. In some versions, they did so for a mysterious patron who later turned out to be fey. These tended to end with a handsome reward, though that wasn't always the case. In others, the specifications would be provided by a fairy, but the finished product would be given as a gift to some noble who would suffer an ignominious fate.

If the silver flute Liadan had given to his father somehow ended up costing Arawn the Emerald Court, that would be perfectly in keeping with such tales. Too bad that seemed like something else the mortals had gotten wrong.

"Next you'll be telling me you've always been lucky," Aeife said. She sounded as though she meant to come across as amused. All Cahill heard in her voice, though, was apprehension.

He didn't reply.

"No," she said. "Don't say it."

"I might have made a fortune gambling before I decided it just didn't feel right," he said, feeling a little numb. "What does it mean?"

And why did his grandmother suddenly seem afraid?

"That you're thrice-blessed," she said. "There's power in threes, Cahill."

She didn't have to tell him that.

"But that's good, right?" he asked. "Blessings are good, right?"

His grandmother didn't respond.

"Let me guess. Those thrice-blessed are often thrice-cursed as well?"

She nodded.

Of course they were. How could it be otherwise? That was just about the most fucking fey thing he'd ever fucking heard.

Why hadn't his mother said anything? Why hadn't Fiona?

Perhaps because they had no idea that he'd ever unwittingly endowed a musical instrument with glamour. He'd tried to keep as much about Liadan a secret as he could. And he'd never told them about the way the cards were a bit too good to him. Back when that had still been a thing, he'd kept it to himself because he'd known how they'd react. How they'd insist it was a sign that he didn't belong in that world, but here in Faerie. Of course, they were right, but he hadn't been ready to hear that then. And by the time he was, he'd all but forgotten about his unearned riches.

"Curses come in all shapes and sizes," Aeife said hesitantly, "but something tells me it's your loved ones who'll suffer."

Like Aunt Oona.

He almost objected by saying they hadn't been that close. But that would not only be massively insensitive, given that the woman hadn't even begun to grieve for her daughter yet, but irrelevant. He had loved her, as he loved all his family. And that was how these things worked. The first loss wasn't so bad. The second would be worse. And the third would leave him thinking he'd be better off dead.

Suddenly, Cahill heard singing. At first, he thought it came from his grandmother, but then he saw her lips were closed.

An 'andsome boy left the Dreaming Then came he did to Auld Faerie The land of oak and ash and thorn, Whose folk are young and merry. There he found his mother true Who'd waited long for tha' day He threw his arms round her waist And this to her did say.

"Please stop," Cahill whispered.

"What's that?" Aeife asked.

"My mother's love is a blessing Such as I've ne'er known Should I e'er displease her For tha' I'll ne'er atone My mother's love is a blessing I love her more'n me heart can bear For none have lips quite so red, Eyes so bright, nor skin so fair

The words came from nowhere. He wasn't even sure they existed outside his head.

But they werena together long Afore good turned bad turned worse Her love was indeed a blessing And for tha' he also bore a curse The fates soon took her from him And cruel they are, told him why `So low we must soon lay, Those we first let fly so high.'

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Right," Cahill said.

He wondered if he'd actually heard it himself. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination. Or maybe Liadan was nearby. The last time he'd seen her, she'd sung a similarly sad song. But she'd only been trying to get his attention. To get him to wake back up, and help her brother Kearney do the same.

That had been her goal, hadn't it?

Why did it seem like she was trying to scare him then? Assuming she was responsible for the creepy tune, that was. And if not her, then who? Faerie itself?

"Are you okay, dear?" his grandmother asked.

He was supposed to be looking after her, not the other way around. She might be hiding it well, but she was weak. And hungry. She had to be, after what she'd been through. What sort of grandson would he be if he dumped his problems on her when she needed his strength to help her through her own?

"Fine," he said. "Just though I heard something."

She frowned and did her best to look down her nose at him. Though he had several inches on her even after having adjusted his height earlier, she somehow managed it.

"Don't worry about it, Grandma," he said. "Really."

"Fine. You don't have to tell me," Aeife said. "Now."

Good enough.

"I've not known you five minutes and I've already got a list of things I need to squeeze out of you later," she said. "Don't let it get too long. I'm told I can be very insistent."

"Hmmm, I don't know, sounds kinda fun," Cahill said.

She stretched out a finger, preparing to poke him in the chest. "Don't you get saucy with me," she said. Then, her slender finger tapped his chest, generating impossible force, and he fell flat on his ass.

Just as he was regaining his balance, she sat on her haunches in front of him, arms wrapped around her knees. There was scarcely enough room for her gigantic boobs. He tried not staring at them, but he might as well have decided to turn asexual.

"Now, we both know why your mother left you alone with me," his grandmother said.

"True," he said.

Was this her idea of foreplay? His involved less...getting-knocked-on-his-ass-edness.

His grandmother smiled. Rather prettily. His mother was so gorgeous it sometimes hurt to look at her for too long. His grandmother wasn't that pretty, of course. No woman was. But with that porcelain skin, that jet black hair, those green eyes, and those full lips, he would do her a grave injustice if he said she had a pleasant face.

That said, it was hard to look at her face. Just below her chin lay the most glorious twin peaks he'd ever seen. With her crouched low like that, hugging her legs, the poor things had to fight just to fit between her chest and her knees. Caronwyn's considerable cups seemed modest in comparison. Cahill had never seen breasts that big. Nevermind a handful, they were bigger than his fucking head. Yet her waist and hips were about the same size as Brittany's. If she weighed any more than his mother, it couldn't have been by much. It made no sense. Breasts shouldn't grow that big. Especially not on a woman her size.

Part of him was almost turned off. Thought they were too big, at least for her frame. But another part of him insisted that was nonsense and couldn't wait to see what they'd look like once freed from her dress.

"I'm up here," she said, putting a finger under his chin.

"S-sorry," he said.

"You find them a bit distracting?" she asked. "Most men do."

"Can't imagine why."

"Play nice and I may let you see them," she said. "But you'd better make me cum first."

Cahill chuckled. "Thought the idea was for me to get off. Pry my Libido open."

"We'll get there," his grandmother said, letting the fingertip that had been gently digging into his chin slide up to his lips. As it slid slowly across his flesh, it sent waves of intense pleasure through him, and he nearly ejaculated then and there. "But there's this old idea you really ought to learn. It's called Ladies First."

"I think I've heard of that one."

"Musicians," Aeife said with feigned disgust.

"Well, you know, I haven't had any complaints," he said.

"Have you had a woman who'd know the difference?" she asked.

He had, actually. At least, he was pretty sure that his mother at least could compare him to some men Grandma Aeife would think counted. Liadan probably had too.

But whatever. Cahill decided he'd had enough.

He grabbed the back of his grandmother's head and pulled her in for a kiss. As he pressed his lips to hers, he opened his Libido up wide and allowed his energy to gush out of him.

When he finally released her, his grandmother gasped for air. "Not sure what that was all about, but it was nice," she said between breaths. She gave him a quick kiss, then another, before adding, "You're not trying to get out of this, are you?"

"Not at all," he said. "I just want you to be able to keep up."

"Oh you are trouble," she said, a twinkle in her green eyes. For just a moment, they actually gave off light. "Mind your manners or you won't get any sugar."

He considered that for a moment. She sounded at least a little bit amused by his antics, but he wasn't getting the sense that she found extreme confidence as attractive as some women did. Might not want him to take control either. She might be more like Fiona, who preferred to be seduced methodically and affectionately.

There was one sure way to find out. But he wasn't up for it. His dick needed to be inside her. She could discover how talented he was with his tongue after he found out how good it felt to fuck his grandmother's pussy.

Cahill slipped his hands underneath his grandmother's smooth thighs, gently scooped her up, and placed her down in his lap. She made a few squeaky sounds that turned him on a lot more than they would have if most anyone else had made them.

"You trying to tell me something?" she asked.

By way of response, he took one of her little hands and guided it down between his legs.

"My," she said. "You're a big boy, aren't you?"

While she pressed her hand against the front of his pants, he turned them into smoke. Then guided his length up towards her womanhood. She could step back and take a good look at it later. For now, it had somewhere to be.

"Slow down, Cahill," she said. "Good things come to those who-" her eyes bulged as his fat head pushed past her lips. "Mmm. Wow. You're almost as thick as Richard was."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked.

He remembered the name, though his mother hardly ever mentioned her older brother. Whether his uncle was well-hung was not one of the details she'd shared with Cahill, but there were only so many ways to interpret his grandmother's words. He didn't really need an answer to his question. Just wanted Aeife to swallow her words.

She made a face at him, but then promptly started working her hips. Inch after inch disappeared inside her as her bunny hops dropped her lower and lower.

"Oh, yeah," she moaned as she took more and more of him in. "Mmmm, I think you're bigger than him," she added as she planted her hands firmly on his bare chest.

"You know what guys really like, Grandma? When you compare the size of their dicks to those of past lovers. If you could do that some more, that would be great."

He almost surprised himself by saying that. Basically, she was telling him how big he was, and what guy didn't love hearing that? But as with so many things, it was all in the delivery. Whatever else her words might have meant, they told him that he hadn't made enough of an impression on her to make her forget her late son. To convince her that, for the time being at least, he was the only man in the world.

"If you were...mmph...looking me in the...oh, yeah...eye when you said that...yeahyeahyeah," she replied. There might have been an end to that sentence, but he never heard it. Which, he supposed, meant they were headed in the right direction.

He was indeed starting at her tits again. The way they bounced was absolutely hypnotic. She wasn't even moving that fast yet, and her girls were still constrained by her tight dress. But fuck, they were glorious. She could easily suffocate him with them if she leaned a little further forward. Wouldn't even need to take her dress off to do it, in all likelihood. Did she really expect him not to notice that? Besides, they weren't having a conversation anymore. They were fucking.

"How about you shut up and let grandma focus on riding this big dick, huh?" she said, as if he'd actually spoken or something.

Cahill said not another word.

"Atta boy," she said, bouncing faster and faster.

He let his hands slide down her back, below the hem of her skirt, and then up again. He was disappointed to find that her ass was a bit small. But with how good her pussy felt, and it felt good, it almost didn't matter. He wasn't even sure he could have handled it if she'd been as well put together below the waist as she was above it.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," his grandmother panted. "Fuck, I had no idea how much I missed this."

Bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts. Neither of them wanted to go down that path. Cahill sent some more energy into his grandmother, ramping up her tactile senses. That did the trick. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she started breathing heavier and heavier.

For just a little while there, he got to feel like a real stud. His grandmother made the most delicious sounds on her way to an explosive finale, and the sheer intensity of her climax when it did arrive nearly gave him a concussion. Her Libido had unleashed a tidal wave of energy, despite being nearly empty, and her physical reaction had been no tamer.

Of course, she hadn't gotten laid in years. But he chose not to dwell on that little detail. Easier to be flattered if he didn't.

Unfortunately for Cahill, after his grandmother's first climax, she quit fooling around and got busy showing him who was in charge.

The things she did to him were fairly ordinary. But they didn't feel like it. Every time she so much as ran her fingers through his hair, he kissed death on the mouth. How he survived the rest of it, he wasn't even sure. He lost track of how many times he emptied himself into her womb and then her mouth. But somehow, she always found more for him to give. He also lost track of the number of times she changed his understanding of what pleasure was and how much of it a man could feel.

Eventually, he got her out of that dress and did his best to please her from head to toe, paying extra special attention to her breasts. But not until he'd eaten his fill of humble pie.

#

There was only one way to honor Oona's passing, Caronwyn informed them, and that was with a bit role-playing. That having been the nymph's favorite activity, she'd expect no less of them. The moment she'd said it, Cahill had known she was right. He didn't need to see her own mother give her an approving nod.

But his lingering mortal sense of propriety chafed at the idea. As did Brittany's, to judge by the look on her face. His younger sister had always enjoyed Oona's games, but the announcement drew nary a grin from her.

Wasn't it a little selfish to mark her death with a costumed orgy? Reflecting on how immortality did not grant invulnerability? Sharing their favorite memories of her?

But no. That just wasn't how the fey did things. They didn't mourn. That way lay regret, and regret was ever an unwelcome guest in Faerie.

Besides, he and his sister seemed to be the only ones experiencing any reluctance. Even Seamus and Fiona, who he knew full well had been shaken by their aunt's passing, were completely on board with their matriarch's suggestion. And Cahill knew better than to argue with his mother, nevermind Aeife.

So he soon found himself on the deck of a small schooner, dressed like a pirate captain. His ship sailed along the treetops, its oars cutting the forest canopy like water without leaving any sign of their passing. He wasn't quite sure where their destination was. That was for Reilly, his first mate, to worry about. All Cahill knew was that they'd attempt to deliver some empty barrels to a bunch of old timey mobsters, led by Finnegan, only to get busted by his grandmother and his brothers, who were playing the part of the police.

They weren't acting out any particular literary or cinematic work. The rickety skeleton of a plot his mother had come up with simply served as an excuse to get them into a bunch of different costumes. Not that it made much difference. They'd never followed the storylines too closely when Oona had them reimagine classic tales or modern movies. Still, it felt a little bit like cheating. If they were going to honor Oona in the manner of the fey, shouldn't they at least do things the way she'd always done them?

Or maybe he just didn't like dressing up like a stupid pirate.

When was it decided that nothing was sexier than men with missing teeth, limbs, and eyes, whose hygienic practices made them lucky to die of scurvy?

Fucking Johnny Depp.

Cahill wore leather boots, billowy pants, a leather vest, and a ridiculous hat. He had a silk sash tied around his waist and a freaking bandana around his forehead. A cutlass hung over one hip, a flintlock pistol over the other. Worst of all, his hair hung to his shoulders.