Homelands Pt. 11 Ch. 01

It took Yvette a moment to make the connection. To realize that her mother was saying something with that little move, not just delivering pleasure for the sake of doing so. Nothing Zach had done with his tongue had felt nearly as good as what Daphne was doing just then. To Yvette's shoulder. Not her neck, let along her stiff clitoris, but the not-altogether-sensitive part where her arm met her torso. It made no damn sense at all. Not that it needed to.

She soon experienced another orgasm.

Not a particularly modest one either.

Her mother didn't send her spiraling out of her body, the way her father had a few times, but even after she came down from her high, Yvette felt as drunk as she would have been if she'd finished not one but two chalices of that strange wine. And she knew that her Libido had surrendered more than a little of her precious energy. Had she not gotten her father off even more times than he had her, that might be a real cause for concern.

"Can we slo-"

Her mother guided her onto her back and set about undressing her. Yvette didn't bother finishing the request. Nor did she say a single word as the woman worked. She was too nervous to speak, pierced tongue frozen in her mouth.

Though part of her wanted to cover herself up, she forced herself to give her lover a good look. As much for that reason as to avoid looking timid.

"You're beautiful," Daphne said, staring up from between Yvette's legs.

The words sounded sincere. The queen of no less than three courts, Lady Winter, a woman of unnatural beauty and incredible power, thought she was beautiful. Shy, awkward Yvette. A girl so uncomfortable with her own body that she couldn't stop altering it.

She almost died.

Then her mother began pleasing her and she very nearly wished she had.

Nothing Daphne did brought greater pleasure than she'd felt with her father or even with Zach. After a certain point, it simply wasn't possible to feel better. But while those sublime moments had been fleeting with her father, and rarer still with her brother, her mother had her teetering on the edge of what her body could handle almost the entire time.

Each and every orgasm, of which there were a great many, came in at a ten out of ten. It was a wonder none of her bones cracked. That she managed to remember her name again and again, after being made to forget it so many times. Her Libido was nearly empty, but she was so deep in a cloud of euphoria that she just didn't care. If her mother hadn't stopped of her own accord, Yvette would have let the woman drain her dry. Because there was no way she was going to interrupt anything that felt that good.

"Wow," Yvette panted. "I...don't know if I can move."

Her mother smiled. "Then don't."

With that, Daphne cast her dress off. It looked like she was pulling away cobwebs, the way the fabric stubbornly clung to her body at first then came away cleanly.

She was absolutely perfect.

Some part of Yvette started to feel jealous, but quickly threw in the towel. There was no point. She couldn't compare to that. And no one would ever expect her to. Lady Winter was one of a kind. Her waist was no thicker than Zach's biceps, yet she had serious hips and huge breasts. Which were topped by thick nipples, dark blue of course, and light blue areola. Her legs were surprisingly thick, as the ass Yvette felt when she slid her hand down her mother's back was huge and soft, yet perfectly rounded and heart-shaped. Though Yvette had only gotten a brief glimpse before the woman started crawling up her body, she was pretty sure her mother was shaved bald down there. As Yvette herself was, though she hadn't expected a mature and elegant woman of Winter to submit to recent mortal trends in body grooming.

"I've never been wi-" Yvette began.

"Shh."

They kissed and for a time Yvette lost herself in her mother's lovely lips. Those blue beauties were so full and soft, and the pleasure they delivered was more than physical. But then she remembered that it was supposed to be her turn to do the pleasing. That she had to find a way to fill her Libido. To pry some energy out of her mother.

Delicately, she spread her mother's butt cheeks apart and slid a few fingers into the warm slit beyond. To Lady Winter, the young girl's movements probably felt awkward and unsure, but in Yvette's mind at least, she managed to be smooth. And the woman lying atop her started to moan into her mouth as she worked the slim digits.

But then the kiss ended abruptly. "Watch the nails, sweetie," her mother said. "A little pain can be good. But it's got to be done right. And that? That's not the way to do it."

"I didn't mean to," Yvette said.

Lady Winter smiled. The flowers in the vase by the bed wilted. The air went from crisp to frosty and Yvette could see her breath. "That's okay," her mother said. "I'll teach you."

Time fell away. At first, Yvette was painfully aware that she was the pupil being guided through the basics by a master. Only it was worse than that, because she'd always been good in school. The most difficult and technical subjects came naturally to her, whereas making love to a woman felt like breathing water, or swimming through a bed of gravel. She'd never realized how little she knew about using her body to please another. Though she'd never had trouble finishing her guys off, it hadn't occurred to her that it just wasn't that hard to get a guy to cum. But before long, the lesson stopped feeling like one. The techniques her mother taught her, from retracing her nails once her fingers were inside the other woman's body to hyper-sensitizing another's skin, were actually quite straightforward. She'd already figured out how to make her tongue as warm or as cold as she pleased, and so long as one kept their partner guessing about what they'd feel next, that was a powerful tool indeed. It took more effort to surprise her mother, to avoid falling into a predictable pattern, but every now and then she really made the other woman's eyes bulge simply by frosting her clit or closing cold lips around a hard blue nipple.

She'd have loved to keep at it for a while longer. But she could hardly handle her mother's orgasms. Every time Lady Winter let down her defenses, an avalanche crashed into Yvette. Her Libido went from nearly empty to painfully overfull in a relatively short period of time. If she got her mother off once more, she might well have exploded.

Through it all, Quincy worked his magic, fingers and bow making love to the strings with a delicacy and expertise that Yvette could only envy. His eyes lit up a few times, but not once did move to join them. Even when Yvette silently implored him to do so with her eyes. Which was probably just as well, since she found herself tapping out soon thereafter.

"That was good," her mother said afterwards, before conjuring up more blue wine. "Now that we've got a good foundation to build on, we can get into the rough stuff next time."

Yvette drank the sweet stuff with gusto. She hadn't worked up much of a sweat, but the simple task of containing all the energy she'd borrowed from her mother was exhausting.

"Sorry if I-"

The queen shook her head and Yvette swallowed the rest of her words. Then followed that up with a swig of wine. Which she realized tasted a lot like her mother's juices.

"You've nothing to apologize for," her mother said. A black nightgown appeared, covering her body. It it left a lot more of her ultra-pale skin exposed, but its rich, shiny fabric and elaborate lace trim was still fit for a queen. "I'm well pleased."

Yvette felt giddy. The most incredible woman in the world, who'd shown Yvette aspects of herself she'd never known were there, and would likely do so many more times in the coming days, was actually her mother. And was pleased with her.

Was this the life she wanted to escape? Whatever for?

"Now," her mother said, suddenly lashing out. One moment, her hand grasped a silver chalice. The next, Yvette's throat. Both their drinks were gone and so was all the air in Yvette's lungs. Cold fingers pressed hard against her skin, and sharp nails threatened to draw blood. "You like me better when I'm happy, don't you?"

She tried to respond, but could not. Not even by nodding.

"Of course you do," the queen replied. "I don't have to show you what happens when I get angry, do I?" Again, there was no way for her to answer. Not with that strong grip on her throat, rapidly sending her into oxygen deprivation. "Keep that in mind after you leave here. And make sure your brother does the same."

With that, she released Yvette. Just as spots began to dance before her eyes.

Before Yvette had quite finished recovering, her mother took her head in both hands and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Everything will be okay, as long as you do as you're told."

Tears welled in Yvette's eyes. She felt overwhelmed with fear and relief and self-loathing. A stronger person would feel defiant. Would renew their commitment to getting away from the frozen nightmare that was her mother's world. But all she wanted to do was crawl into the woman's lap and cry. And never, ever disappoint her.

That wasn't even Bad Yvette speaking.

#

As soon as he realized the shadows behind him were moving, Frank went invisible and reinforced the mask on his Libido. Then he wolfed out and prepared to show the Winter whelp that Daphne's brood weren't the only ones that had claws.

But the attack never came.

Instead, a portion of the shadow broke off and slid away across the snow. He followed it silently, flying over frozen rivers and endless fields of snow as the shadow moved up the mountainside. Eventually, the dark circle slipped inside a cave.

Frank hesitated, decided he didn't care if he was being ambushed, and went in.

This could be it. The end he'd both feared and longed for. A release from the guilt and self-loathing he'd felt ever since he'd allowed his children to die and watched the woman he loved get Devoured by his grandmother. Or, there might just be the one, out on his own, in which case Frank could safely pick him off without giving himself away. That would bring his head count up to five. Which was nowhere near enough, but he wagered it would still feel every bit as good as the first four had. No matter that there were plenty more out there.

Or it might be something altogether different.

To Frank's surprise, the man who waited by the fire had a deep bronze complexion. And his shadowy companion, once solidified, had skin like caramel. Which meant that whoever they were, they weren't Daphne's. Or from Winter at all, for that matter. Frank had yet to come across anyone in the land of snow and ice who looked like these two. They didn't all have black hair and blue eyes like Daphne, in fact most had blonde hair, but the denizens of the Wintry courts all had very fair skin. Even more so than one tended to find in Autumn.

Could they be from Summer? He'd never been there, but he recalled there being a few refugees from the island courts in the Forgotten Tower that Iva had pointed out to him. Distantly remembered though they were, the ones he had in mind were all darker complected.

Which only made sense, really.

He could definitely picture these two hanging out on a beach, soaking up rays. Surrounded by tanned women in bikinis, drinking fruity cocktails. Fuckers probably liked to surf too.

What were two guys from Summer doing here?

Well, that was a stupid question. From what he understood, Daphne's frozen fingers reached into every court. They likely had just as much reason for raiding Winter, killing as many of Daphne's monstrous offspring as they could, as he did.

But what why were they doing following him? And why hadn't they revealed themselves?

Perhaps the most important question of all was whether he wanted to reveal himself to them. He'd been doing just fine by himself. Gathering information from Daphne's terrified subjects, taking out her children whenever he found one all alone. He didn't need or want help. Besides, they might prove more of a hindrance. They obviously weren't very powerful or all that bright, or he'd never have realized he was being followed.

And what if he finally gave into that fatalistic impulse, the growing sense of nihilism he was finding harder to ignore, and wanted to go all kamikaze on the ice palace high up in the heart of the mountain range? Would they try to talk him out of it? Would he let them?

On the other hand, working together, they wouldn't need to shy away from groups of two and three. And he knew it really wasn't all that damning that he'd spotted Mister Shadow. That was a skill that could come in handy. And the bronze blonde looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He was tall, probably over six feet, and well-built. Plus, there was that badass sword strapped to his back. And the soft blue nimbus surrounding it.

All practicalities aside, though, he'd grown quite accustomed to being on his own. Making contact with others only when he needed to refuel. Frank had never really understood why people said that misery loves company. When he got into one of his darker moods, all he wanted was to be alone. The thought of talking about what had happened, why he'd decided venture deep into the heart of Winter without any backup, did not appeal to him. At. All.

"I found him," the brown one said.

So it was no coincidence. The guy hadn't just happened upon him while he was out exploring, looking for wolves to hunt. It hadn't felt like that was what had happened, but Frank supposed it was good to have it confirmed.

"Really?" the blonde said, bolting to his feet. "Where? Why are you back?"

They spoke softly, even when excited. Perhaps they had some idea what they were doing after all. Frank could have amplified his hearing, but he decided to move a little closer to them. Get a better look as well. Maybe even bask in the warmth of the fire.

He didn't have any trouble withstanding the cold, of course. None of their kind did. But he felt it. And had grown to hate it as he never had back in Autumn's echo.

"He disappeared," the shadowman replied. "Not sure how he knew I was there, or if he even did. But pretty much as soon as I happened upon him, he vanished." He held up his hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed through the cave. "Just like that."

Well, one of them was careful. The one who hadn't given them away.

"Shit," the other one said, sitting back down. "Well fucking done."

He looked funny, sitting there wearing his jeans, Timberlands, and hooded UCLA sweatshirt, like someone from the mortal world, yet with a huge ass sword on his back. The oyster shell in the pommel and the blue waves decorating the blade, which Frank hadn't been able to make out from the entrance to the cave, pretty much confirmed that he was from Summer, but some part of Frank could almost believe he was dealing with a couple of mortals who really had no fucking idea what they'd gotten themselves into.

"Yeah, well, you'll change your mind when you realize he's standing right behind us!" the first one replied, spinning around to point right at Frank.

He was too stunned to say anything. Or to get the hell out of there, as he probably should have. He just stared dumbfounded at the man dressed all in black, wondering how he could see him. Whether he'd known all along that Frank hadn't actually disappeared.

"Um," his companion said, "you sure about that?"

"Yup. Notice how the air blowing in from outside is split into two streams now? Like there's something right there in the middle? That's no stalagmite."

Huh.

That was actually pretty clever.

Frank had hidden himself from view and suppressed all smell and sound, a potentially unnecessary precaution since he never touched the ground, but he hadn't thought of other little ways he might nonetheless reveal his presence. He'd figured that as long as no one could see, smell, or hear him, or track his footprints, he basically didn't exist.

"You got me," he said, slipping out of from wolfman as he popped into view. He stayed suspended in the air, though, as he walked towards them with his hand outstretched. Because fuck it. Why not. "Frank Orwin." He gave them a moment to react to that, confirming that they knew who he was. "I'd say I'm pleased to meet you, but that would be a lie. I am, however, curious as to who the fuck you are and why you're following me around."

The one in black melted back into the shadows and the blonde looked like he might draw his sword. But he didn't. Just stared at Frank with his pale blue eyes, rose slowly to his feet, and circled around the fire to take his hand.

The fucker squeezed good and tight, so Frank threw that right back at him. To his credit, though, he barely winced. Even as Frank came really damn close to breaking some bones. He wasn't as strong as Frank, or as willing to sacrifice some precious energy in order to make what was ultimately a pretty stupid point, but he wasn't weak. Or afraid of pain.

"Eric Moody," he said through gritted teeth.

Frank let up, held the grip a little longer, then released. "And the elusive Mister Shadow?" he asked, making a point of looking around the dark cave.

No reply came at first. But eventually, the guy rematerialized. "Nick Hardt," he said. "And I'll just go ahead and stipulate that you're stronger than I am."

Frank laughed. "So you're the brains of the operation."

"Or thinks he is," Eric replied, giving Nick a sidelong glance.

The latter stared right back, and something passed between them that made Frank no longer feel like the outsider they needed to team up on. Neither spoke a word, but he sensed that their little mission hadn't exactly brought them closer together.

Had it driven them apart? Or had there never been anything but bad blood there?

"We were sent here by Flori of House Hardt, Queen of The First Court of Summer," Nick said at last, turning to face the newcomer. His eyes were dark and malevolent. Or so they seemed to Frank. Suspicious, if nothing else. "She wishes us to assist you."

"Oh, she does? And why is that?"

"You hate Daphne?" Eric asked.

"Of course. Everyone outside her family does. And many of them do too."

"Well, then, there you go," Nick replied. "The enemy of my enemy-"

"Is no one to me," Frank finished. "Maybe even tomorrow's enemy."

"But today's friend," Nick said. He took a step nearer the fire.

Though he was more or less of a height with Frank, perhaps an inch taller, and nowhere near as muscular, his advance still made Frank uncomfortable. Almost without meaning to, he floated a bit back. Then wished he hadn't when he saw the faint grin on Nick's face.

"Do the smart thing," Nick said. "Worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Because if that frozen bitch gets her way, none of may live that long anyway."

"You guys know what she's planning?"

"No. Do you?" Eric asked, putting a hand on his arm to stop his retreat. There was a hint of optimism in his voice, and Frank realized they'd pinned all their hopes on him.

Shit out of luck then.

"No," he said. A reproachful look sufficed to remove Eric's hand. "I think it has something to do with the Shackled Maiden, but I don't even know who that is."

"You mean the Unshackled Maiden," Nick said.

Frank shrugged. Having heard the term precisely once, right before making a promise to Iva that he'd broken within the hour, he figured he could be forgiven for getting mixed up.

"And she's no one, anymore," Nick continued. "Been dead since our courts came into being. Matter of fact, it was her death that allowed them to do so."

The two of them gave him a quick history lesson. He was tempted to ask how they knew so much, but that really wasn't important at the moment. Instead, when they finished telling him about the Trilateral War and the civil war the followed, Frank asked, "So you think she's trying to get back to Earth?"