Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 02

"I'm gonna go shower," he said. "You know where the extra blankets are?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Lance said. "The cold doesn't really bother me."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice insisted that Yvette should find something noteworthy in that remark. Just as she should have any number of other things about him. But she was too busy trying to figure out why she was letting Zach slip through her fingers instead, and whether she should tighten her grip.

"You're more man than I am then," Zach said, dividing his attention between Yvette and Lance. "I'm gonna need one. Especially after that fire goes out."

"Don't be ridiculous," Yvette said, deciding to just go for it. If he rejected her, to heck with him. But the chance to break free of Bad Yvette and pursue something meaningful was standing in front of her. She wasn't going to turn her back on that. "The bed's huge. Plenty of room for the two of us."

"You don't have to-"

"And if I want to?"

"Correct answer's `hell yes,' by the way," Lance whispered, making Yvette smile a bit to herself. Damn right it was.

"He's not wrong," she said without taking her eyes off Zach.

But if he didn't take the hint, she'd be happy to see what Lance had to offer. She wanted to start distancing herself from Bad Yvette. Start making better choices. But she'd thrown herself out there. If he didn't meet her halfway, whether due to some misplaced fear that he was taking advantage of her or a lack of confidence that he was experienced enough for her or what-the-fuck-ever, that was his problem. At least she'd tried.

Her breath caught as she waited for some sort of reaction. Any at all.

Of course, it was only a matter of moments. And not many of them at that. But it didn't feel that way. In her mind, an eternity passed before Zach finally smiled down at her. His hand rose away from his side and it looked like he might run his fingers through her hair or brush her cheek or something. But he didn't. He did, however, say, "Well then that's my answer." Which she figured was good enough, all things considered.

"Good," Yvette said. "Now go take that shower."

He smiled and her heart almost burst. Yet, at the same time, her brain started to itch. A deep part of her psyche insisted that something was wrong. The air was starting to feel sticky with syrup and saccharine. These sorts of moments looked nice and romantic in movies, but they didn't belong in her life. Yvette just wasn't that sort of girl.

"I mean, you're kinda ripe," she added, pinching her nose. "If I'm gonna climb into bed with you, you gotta do something about that stench."

Zach snorted. But she could tell that he wasn't entirely sure she was kidding.

Feeling a pang of guilt, she added, in a sultry voice, "I'll be waiting for you."

He hesitated a moment then planted the most awkward kiss on her cheek. Which was hella sweet and made her knees buckle, even if he did sort of falter on the delivery. Then he turned on a heel and made his way up the stairs in the awkward movements of someone who was trying very hard not to hurry but just couldn't help themselves.

"Got tired of me asking so many questions, huh?" Yvette asked Lance as she sat back down on the couch, letting him know that he wasn't off the hook yet.

"Or maybe just wanted you all to myself for a few minutes."

That didn't make much sense. How could he know that Zach would respond to a rather blatant proposition by retreating to the bathroom? That suggesting the kid make his move would place her in the palm of his hands? And what made him think she was, anyway?

And yet, Yvette knew that she was.

That one little sentence, and the cool confidence with which it was delivered, shattered the chains Bad Yvette had been struggling against all night. She could almost hear cold metal rattling against cement as they fell away. Something inside her, which had been still and quiet while she and Zach agreed to hook up, suddenly began to vibrate, humming loudly as it did. Yes, she had not a moment ago given Zach the impression that she was all his for the night. But that no longer mattered. Lance had slid off the couch and was advancing towards her with the grace of a predator. He was going to fuck her, good and hard, and she was going to enjoy it. That was that. Nothing anyone could do about it.

It felt like someone else was in control of her body. Perhaps not figuratively either.

For that matter, the complete powerlessness she suddenly felt was not the only potentially supernatural thing taking place. Lance's clothes went up in a puff of smoke. Then his appearance changed, turning a very attractive man into an absolute god.

Yvette was pretty sure it was biologically impossible for a man to be built the way Lance was. Shoulders that had been quite broad to begin with had now widened further. By a fair amount. His narrow waist had become significantly narrower. Toned six-pack abs gave way to a full eight-pack. A face she'd found spine-melting before grew unbearably attractive.

And, lest she think there was a rational explanation for those sudden changes, his eyes began to glow. Soft blue light fell over her, making her pale skin look even more ghostly.

Such headache. Many confusion.

"What-" she began, before getting cut off by a kiss.

No, the kiss. Of a lifetime.

Waves of pleasure crashed into her, rippling down from her head to her toes and out to her fingers. Ecstasy such as her vibrator seldom delivered swept over her, reaching the very core of her being. She grabbed the back of Lance's head and pulled him in deeper, trying all the while to keep from exploding. Trying, but failing.

The next thing Yvette knew, she was coming down from a high brought on by a sudden and powerful orgasm. Strong hands were grabbing at her body, which had at some point been unburdened of all clothing. Those hands mashed her breasts and pulled her legs apart to make way for an enormous cock.

"Uunngh," she grunted as he pushed inside her.

A mix of pain and pleasure overcame her. He was not just big, but bigger than any guy she'd been with before. Almost too big, though she'd have cried in protest if he dared withdraw. The tip of his cock was poking against her cervix and he wasn't even all the way inside her. Her muscles strained to make room for his girth.

Yet his size was but one of the ways in which he was different from every other guy she'd ever taken inside her. And not even the most striking. She couldn't quite describe it, but something roughly similar to the static shocks she seemed to inflict on herself constantly every winter accompanied his advance. Only they weren't the least bit painful. In fact, they seemed more like discharges of pure ecstasy than electricity.

He pressed his mouth to hers again before she could tell him how good he felt. That second kiss was less pleasurable than the first, but she didn't mind at all. The forceful nature of it only turned her on that much more.

An unreasonably attractive man, who probably wasn't a man at all but some divine being who'd once been worshipped by the land's original inhabitants, was desperate to have his way with her. His powerful need left him either unwilling or unable to slow down enough to make things pleasurable for her, and she took that as the greatest praise that had ever been offered to a woman. Nevermind that countless women before her had likely thought the exact same thing while he was on top of them.

When his lips retreated, he replaced them with a hand covering her mouth. Roughly. She could feel her lips tingle as they pressed hard against her teeth. Her nostrils flared as she tried, as best she could, to breathe. That was no easy task with his huge cock repeatedly punching her womb, but she savored the struggle. Oxygen deprivation soon made her head feel light, intensifying every sensation his incredible body delivered. There was almost no room for the pain of his fingers twisting her nipples or his shoulders pushing her legs up and back, forcing her into an uncomfortable position trapped beneath him. It was only in the back of her mind that she was aware of his musk, which was strong and sweaty and delicious and contained traces of copper. Or perhaps blood.

It was perfect.

Her second orgasm hit before he started biting her calves and slapping her breasts. By the time unseen hands began pulling her hair and squeezing her wrists and ankles so hard that her fingers and toes began to sting, a powerful hand pressed against her throat intermittently cutting off her airway all the while, she'd already decided that he was infinitely better than every other man alive. That she'd never been, and never would again be, fucked so good.

When he threw her on the ground and tied her wrists to one leg of the coffee table using rope that hadn't existed a moment ago while wedging a ball-gag between her teeth without using either of his hands, Yvette started to cry. Whether the tears were of joy or pain, she couldn't have said. Because they were one and the same. There was no room in her mind for anything but the sensations he so mercifully and mercilessly delivered. The guilt over betraying Zach, the shame of succumbing yet again to her darkest desires, the fear of whatever it was that had made that infernal sound earlier, were all temporarily forgotten.

Never in her life had Yvette wanted anything as badly as she did his cock just then. The pain of its absence was too cruel. She needed it back inside her, stat. His hands needed to be on her. All six or seven of them, or however many he'd been using a moment ago. She craved the bite of his teeth as they sank into the soft flesh of her buttocks or clamped down on her pierced nipples. But above all, she needed for him to impale her with his spear again.

"More?" he asked.

Yvette moaned as best she could.

He slapped her ass, hard, leaving pins and needles behind. "What was that?"

She backed up as much as she could, which was not much thanks to the rope, and then wiggled her hips at him. In her mind, she urged him to use her lower back tattoo as a target. To shove that glorious wonder back inside her, use her the way she deserved to be used, then paint her back even whiter than it already was.

But apparently she wasn't ready for that yet. What she got instead was another slap, this one on the other cheek. If not for the ball gag, she might have bit her tongue so hard that it bled. All she could do was bury her head against her shoulder and whimper as her teeth sank into the rubber.

Painful as the strike had been, it made her fucking cunt throb.

"I need to know that you want it," Lance said.

Yvette mumbled that she did, but thanks to her ball-gag, even she couldn't make out the words. What did he want from her then? Whatever it was, she'd gladly do it. A thousand times. Anything, to feel him inside her again.

"No?" he asked.

Before she could respond, he gave her ass another slap. One that sent her into orgasm.

That made no real sense to Yvette. She'd experimented with rough sex before, and though she found it exhilarating, but it had never worked quite like that. The appeal had more to do with the power play, the psychology of it all, the thrill from surrendering fully to another person. To the extent that she derived any physical gratification from it, it was mostly the rush of surviving an ordeal, more akin to what one experienced when watching a good horror movie or after a particularly grueling workout than climax. But all the same, Lance had gotten her off with the palm of his hand. And not by rubbing her vulva.

Still, she needed more. Much more. And not just from his hands.

On a whim, she tried guiding him into her with hands other than her own. The way he had worked her over, using too many hands to handle her both roughly and tenderly at the same time. In her mind's eye, she saw a pair of hands press against his hips. Another grab his shoulders. And two more take hold of the huge slab of meat between his legs.

"There we go," he said.

Yvette purred as he entered her slowly. Tenderly. Inch after glorious inch slid home, allowing her to slowly stretch herself out for him. With each little push, he sent shockwaves up her spine. All the right parts of her body started buzzing with excitement. A dozen times over, she reached levels of ecstasy that she'd have previously thought impossible. Tension built and built inside her, threatening to overwhelm her, then grew only more intense.

Without warning, he started working a lubricated thumb into her ass.

Yvette might have protested, if she could. She might have. But the dark side of her probably wouldn't have let her. She'd been with multiple guys at once before, but never like that. They took turns or she sucked one off while the other fucked her from behind. She'd seen double-penetration in porn, of course. It was everywhere one looked, practically. But she'd never thought to try it. Heck, she rarely let anyone inside her ass at all. It wasn't that she objected to that. Not too vigorously, anyway. The few times she'd tried it, she'd more or less enjoyed it. But it wasn't anything she ever suggested, and apparently most guys didn't either. At least not with her. But, then, Lance wasn't most guys.

A few minutes later, he had two very large cocks buried deep inside her. How that worked, she had no idea, but it was no more ridiculous than most of the other delights he'd shared with her since Zach went to go take his shower.

To say that it was intense would be to do great violence to the word. Yvette didn't enjoy it so much as endure it. But every time she found herself hoping he finished soon, he'd slow or even stop, and she'd find herself pumping her hips furiously to get more of what she needed. If he didn't fill both her holes up before finishing, she'd go crazy. Maybe even get violent with him. But the longer he made her wait for her prize, the more fully she'd belong to him. Become less an individual person with feelings and agency and so on than a possession of his to do with as he pleased. She would belong to him---mind, body, and soul.

Unfortunately, he didn't draw things out as much as he could have.

Yvette had no idea how much time passed. Part of her felt like it couldn't have been more than two or three minutes, but that might only have been because the difference between how long it lasted and how long she wanted it to last was so large. In what might or might not have been a short period of time, she worked up a heavy sweat and experienced two more orgasms. One was relatively light and fleeting, like her body hadn't been able to decide if it was willing to let go or not. The other, however, had been so potent that it had nearly crippled her. Had her spine cracked or her jaw disintegrated, it wouldn't have surprised her. Nor would it have detracted from the euphoria she felt afterwards.

She very nearly experienced a third, but before she could cross the finish line again, Lance slammed into her one last time, grunted, and began double-ejaculating like a madmen. Or maybe a busted fire hydrant. As his juice sprayed against her insides, warmth filled her. Warmth, and something else. She felt the familiar rush, the sense of accomplishment that mostly-but-not-entirely trumped the yuck factor that she thought might never go away. But more than any of that, Yvette felt empowered. And not in an abstract sense. His cum delivered far more than sperm. It carried along with it something supernatural.

A battery she never quite knew she had recharged. Supercharged.

All of a sudden, Yvette knew that she could do far more than conjure up a few extra hands with which to caress the flawless form of her lover despite being bound to the coffee table. She could do anything. Be anything, or anyone. She could turn into a fire-breathing dragon, swallow the sun and burp out a cloud of smaller stars. Conquer death.

No, that was all a bit grandiose. She was nowhere near that powerful. But she'd suddenly, temporarily, acquired the ability to do things no one else could. No one but Lance. He'd transferred some part of what he was to her. Or at least allowed her to take it from him in when the pleasure of his orgasm left him too vulnerable to man the gates. She wasn't sure how it worked, but there was no doubt in her mind that, if only while his borrowed energy was inside her, she could break all manner of inviolable laws.

The ball-gag fell away, because she wished it to. The rope tied tightly around her wrists became fragile as tissue paper. She reached down to finish herself off, furiously fingering her magic button while savoring the feel of two hard cocks still lodged deep inside her. She could have worked her hips to speed things up, but after the pounding he'd given her, what she needed most clitoral stimulation. And it didn't take much before she climaxed again.

And fed Lance some of what he'd given her.

It didn't matter, really. She needed the release so badly that she'd have done it anyway, even knowing that she'd have to relinquish some of the hard-earned energy.

"Mmm," Lanced moaned as he siphoned off some of her energy.

"I'll say," she agreed. "That was amazing."

At long last, he withdrew from her. Yvette whimpered in protest as she was simultaneously denied two sources of pleasure. Then she crawled up onto the coffee table and rolled over. Getting herself into a sitting position took more effort than it should have, especially for someone who'd not a moment ago thought herself fit to consume the oldest light source known to man. And her bottom was a bit more sore than she'd realized, until she decided it wasn't. But perhaps that was the price to pay for such power.

Lance fell onto the couch across from her, his body dangling as limply as that of a marionette. With one exception, that was. Though he had but one cock now, it remained hard as a steel shaft. If he wasn't careful, he might poke one of his eyes out, letting his shoulders slump forward and his head hang low like that.

"What are you?" Yvette asked.

He chuckled.

"A god?"

Yvette knew next to nothing about Native American myths. She wasn't even sure they had gods, per se. But that had to be what he was. Or something along those lines. Even if he did look like a white man, and a fairly pale-skinned one at that. What else was she to take away from him correcting Zach about windigos?

"No," he said, rather firmly. But then, in a softer tone, he added, "Some might say so, I suppose. But then, people put all sorts of labels on that which they do not understand."

The room had only just stopped spinning. Now it was moving again.

"What did you do to me?" she asked. "Or give me. Or whatever."

"We'll get to that later," he said, reaching out to pat her bare knee. "All of your questions will be answered, in due course."

Yvette ran a hand through her damp hair. Then it occurred to her that she needn't be any sweatier than she wanted to be. With a snap of her fingers, she freshened up. Cum stopped leaking out of her orifices, sweat stopped beading against her skin, and she had no need of a mirror to know that her hair and makeup were perfect.

Did the ability to borrow his power make her special? Was that why he was here? Or did all his lovers get a brief taste of greatness?

He had admitted that the story about the snowmobile was a lie. More or less. They'd taken the confession for a joke at the time, but perhaps it wasn't. He'd told more than his share of lies so far. About the sound they'd all heard, whether the cold bothered them, and who knew what else. But there'd been plenty of truth mixed in as well. Particularly when they'd least expected it.

"I'm really confused," she said.

Lance reached up and ran his fingers lightly through her raven tresses. "I know," he said. "But it's going to have to stay that way for a little longer."