Homelands Pt 08 Ch 02

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Author's note

Part Eight picks up where Part Seven left off, in Spring. It is not necessary for you to have read the first six parts of the story, but this may be hard to follow if you haven't read Part Seven.

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.

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Chris ran his finger down the fretted fingerboard of the new guitar he was making. He could almost hear the vibrating strings that hadn't yet come into being. This was going to be one hell of a beautiful instrument when he was done. He could just tell.

"Ty, honey, come back here," he heard his wife suddenly call after their son.

The sense of urgency she couldn't mean for the boy to hear was more than apparent to his father's ears. Hearing that tone in Karen's voice banished all thoughts of music from his mind and caused adrenaline to immediately flood his system.

He looked up from workbench and saw their child stumbling down the driveway as fast as his little legs would carry him, chasing after his big red ball, which was rolling slowly across the street. Next, Chris saw the SUV rapidly approaching. It was big and mean and flying down the road at a frightening pace, soon to pass in front of their house.

Panic swept over him.

The boy was too far away. There was no way he could get there in time. But he couldn't allow himself to think about that. All he could do was

run

. As fast as he could. As if all the world depended on it, because it basically

did

.

Things happened too fast for him to process. The ball bounced harmlessly off the road and onto the grassy bank on the other side. Ty stumbled after it, stumpy little arms outstretched. The driver of the massive SUV honked his horn. From the side of the house, he heard their youngest, Niall, crying at the top of his lungs. For a change, Karen made no attempt to quiet the infant, presumably too stunned by the tragedy unfolding before her to take notice of the wailing.

Amidst all that, Chris zipped down the driveway and out into the road, scooped his son up in his arms, and retreated safely back onto his yard.

Superman himself would've envied his alacrity.

Or so it seemed afterwards. His heart raced and his wife finally released the cry of fear that had been frozen in her throat until that point. The SUV whizzed past, screeching to a halt only after it would have been too late. The oxygen his body craved seemed to be in short supply. But just then, in the immediate aftermath of his son's brush with death, he felt sure that mere physics could not possibly account for how fast he'd moved.

The driver hopped down onto the asphalt, leaving the engine running and the door of his SUV open. "Didn't even see him until it was too late," he explained to Chris, apologizing for what hadn't even happened. "The ball came out of nowhere, and then there he was-"

"Forget about it," Chris said, smoothing his son's hair with his free hand.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Ty asked.

"Nothing," he said, setting the boy back down. "Go get your ball."

The toddler set off at top speed, blissfully unaware that he'd nearly gotten himself killed over the shiny piece of plastic his parents had paid less than ten bucks for.

"Oh my god," Karen said as she joined them. She hugged Ty to her and muffed his hair up before letting him retrieve his toy. "That was close," she told Chris.

"I'm so sorry," the driver said.

"It's really okay," Chris said.

Karen tried her best to smile at him, but the hormones that must have flooded her system apparently still had her under their sway. Little Niall had stopped crying, but he still wished to be somewhere else. Somewhere with fewer anxious grown-ups. He hugged his mother's neck as tight as he could and tried to disappear into her chest.

"Boy's lucky his father's a track star," the driver said.

Chris laughed. "Something like that," he said.

He'd never been a runner. Or any kind of athlete. Music was his one true passion. Playing it, and crafting the instruments that produced it.

Not that it would have mattered if he was. He'd covered two hundred feet or so in just a few seconds. No one could do that, whether they'd been to the Olympics or not. He couldn't begin to explain how it happened.

His wife clearly wasn't any less confused. She was staring at him in disbelief. As though she was unsure whether she was married to a man or a mythical being.

"Hell of a way to start things off," the driver said.

Chris turned back to the man. "What's that?" he asked.

"We just bought that house there," the man said pointing down to the street. The houses were too far apart here for anyone to really be considered a next-door neighbor, but he referred to the home nearest his and Karen's. "Move in Monday."

"You don't say," Chris said, feeling a bit stunned.

The man looked vaguely familiar. Had he seen that face before, or did the man simply remind him of someone he'd once known?

By the look of him, he was in his late forties or early fifties. His goatee had once been brown, but was mostly silver now. The hair atop his head had similarly lost its color, and was in the process of retreating from the field of battle. What might have once been a modest widow's peak had been become a dramatic V now that his hair had begun to recede. He had the kind of body that would lead people to reflexively say that he was in great shape "for his age," but in truth there were few of men of

any

age who wouldn't envy his fitness. Men like that tended to leave a lasting impression. But if Chris

had

met him before, he couldn't remember when or where he had done so.

"Kevin," the man said.

Did that name ring a bell? He wasn't even sure.

"Chris," he replied as he shook the outstretched hand. "This is Karen," he said, turning and gesturing towards his wife. "That's Niall there," he added, pointing at the shy infant. "And this here's Ty," he said as his older son rushed back over to them, clutching his recovered toy to his chest and beaming proudly.

"Hi, mister," Ty said, waving as best he could without loosening his grip on the huge ball. He looked up at Chris for an approving nod, proud of his own manners.

"You should probably get your car off the road," Karen said to Kevin, staring at the vehicle the way she might have a python.

Was she still trying to figure out whether he was made of flesh and blood?

If so, that made two of them. If Kevin had noticed that the sound barrier had nearly been broken, he was doing a better job of hiding his reaction than Karen was.

"Heh. Yeah, probably should," Kevin said. He nodded to Karen good-naturedly then walked back over to his tank of an automobile.

"What are you doing?" his wife asked him, her words nearly tumbling atop one another in their rush to get out of her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"Forget it," she said in a tone that suggested that she herself would do anything but that. That they would talk about it again later, when the children weren't around. "Ty, sweetie, why don't you take your ball in the back yard?"

"Okay, Mommy!" he said before throwing the ball down and chasing after it.

Chris put a hand on Karen's arm. Her beautiful brown eyes regarded him coolly. What exactly he'd done wrong, he had no idea. He'd be happy to apologize for it if he did.

Those impossibly dark irises slipped away from him and followed the SUV as it traveled a few dozen yards down the road. Kevin parked the vehicle in what would soon be his driveway before climbing back out and heading back down towards them at a leisurely pace.

"Does he look familiar to you?" Chris asked.

"He looks a lot like the guy who nearly killed our son that one time," she snapped.

"Hun," he said. "Don't be-"

"Like what, Chris? Protective?" she asked. "What's he driving so fast for anyway? Speed limit's only thirty miles per hour. He had to have been going eighty, eighty-five."

Chris frowned. He doubted the SUV had been going any faster than forty-five miles per hour. But she still had a point. If Kevin had been obeying the speed limit, it might not have been necessary for Chris to perform a miracle, or whatever it was that he did to save their son. He'd have had plenty of time to react all on his own.

On the other hand, Karen herself rarely drove thirty on that road. It was long and straight and flat. There wasn't a red light or a stop sign for miles in either direction.

"You want me to call the cops?"

"That's it, dear," she said. "Make fun of me. That's helpful."

He drew a deep breath. She hadn't stared at him with such venom since the time she'd caught the lead singer of a band he'd played played in for a little while hitting on him after a few too many drinks. Nothing had happened, nor would he have let it even if Karen hadn't been there, but she still brought it up from time to time.

"I'm sorry," he said, running his fingers through her auburn hair.

Her face softened a little. But not much.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I...honestly don't know."

And before he could explain any further, Kevin joined them once again. "I really am sorry," he said. "Shouldn't have been driving so fast."

Karen shot a look at Chris.

"No, you shouldn't have," Chris said in an understanding tone as he turned to face their future neighbor. "Bet you won't next time, though."

Behind him, his wife snorted.

Did she want him to declare a blood feud on the guy before he even moved in? What would a more confrontational tone accomplish anyway? The guy already felt bad.

"I was just coming by to take some measurements," Kevin explained, as if they were interrogating him about what he was doing visiting his house before the big move. "We had this great entertainment center in our last place. I'm not sure we'll have room for it here, but the wife will kill me if I get rid of it unnecessarily."

"Where are you moving from?" Chris asked.

"Savannah," Kevin replied. "We loved it there, but we're planning on having kids soon. Schools are much better here. Crime rate's a lot lower too."

"Funny how you start worrying more about safety after you have kids," Karen said.

"Right?" Kevin said, apparently missing the subtext.

"Is your wife younger?" Karen asked.

Chris shot his wife a reproachful look of his own.

Kevin simply laughed though. "Yeah, quite a bit," he said. "Sometimes, when we're out, people mistake her for my daughter." The look he gave Chris seemed to indicate that he expected the younger man to compliment him on a job well done.

Karen smiled sweetly, but Chris could practically feel the revulsion inside her.

After Ty was born, she'd become a little insecure about her appearance. It got worse with Niall, as he'd known that it would. But ever since she became convinced that he'd have had an affair with Annika if he hadn't left the band, she'd brought neurotic to a whole new level. She was of course still quite capable of being nice and polite to younger women. To their faces. But as soon as they were out of earshot, she'd rip them apart. The viciousness with which she criticized their clothes or their hair and makeup made Chris incredibly sad.

The truth was, she'd only grown more beautiful with each passing year.

He told her as much every chance that he got, but she apparently assumed that he was just saying that because he was her husband. Young men didn't turn their heads when she walked by as often as they used to, she said. The looks she got at the gym were of a different sort these days, and they mostly came from other women who Karen assumed were judging her for thinking she was young enough to still dress the way she did.

But he wasn't alone in thinking so. Every now and then, he got brave enough to read the things people said about his wife online. Anyone who thought a children's book author would never attract the same sort of comments as a Hollywood starlet didn't spend enough time wading through the comments sections of blogs or discussion boards. Or they underestimated the celebrity that came from selling as many books as his wife did. Much of what he found there infuriated him, but he noticed that more than a few of her male fans were of the mind that Karen was "one of those chicks who gets hotter as she gets older, like Marisa Tomei." Chris had almost shown Karen the first time he'd come across that comment, but he figured that she'd just get upset about people thinking that she was as old as Marisa Tomei.

It didn't matter that her husband still thought she was smoking hot, or that she had a legion of fans who professed a willingness to part with various pieces of their anatomy if they could be spend a single night with her. When she looked in the mirror, she found crow's feet, laugh lines, and sunken cheeks. Her breasts sagged more than they used to, even though they were a little smaller now thanks to her newfound obsession with fitness. Her legs looked better than they ever had, and her ass was flat and toned, the way one usually only found in magazines. But that wasn't good enough for her. The stretch marks on her abdomen that Chris thought of as visible signs of her success as a woman struck Karen as ugly and disfiguring. And she never got carded at the liquor store anymore.

Sometimes, he wished it was possible for his wife to read his thoughts for true, the way it sometimes seemed like she could. Maybe then she'd know how beautiful he really thought she was. That he wasn't just humoring her when he told her that he was even more attracted to her now than he had been the day he'd married her. That there wasn't a woman alive who could compare to her in his mind.

But he couldn't. And no matter how hard he tried to convince her of those things, she just kept getting more and more jealous of younger women.

Nothing could have crystalized his wife's dislike of their future neighbor more than discovering that he was married to a woman half his age. Given Kevin's incredible physique and apparent financial success, it seemed a safe bet that his wife was not just young but thin and beautiful as well.

"You'll love Marie," Kevin said.

"Not bloody likely," Chris was tempted to say.

"Everyone does," the man added.

Karen's smiled deepened, but Chris felt the air grow a little colder.

"So. You said this little guy's name is...?"

"Niall," Chris said, rubbing his baby's back. He spelled the name out for his neighbor, knowing that he'd assume it was spelled "Neil."

"That's an unusual spelling," Kevin remarked, as if that might not have occurred to them. Or perhaps fishing for an explanation. When none came, he asked, "How old is he?"

"Eleven months," Karen replied. "Ty is nearly three."

"I hear three is even worse than two," Kevin said.

"That's a terrible way to think about it," his wife replied.

Chris gave his wife a quick look. Then, as if to apologize for questioning her, he brushed her arm softly with his hand before turning back to Kevin. "Takes a lot of energy to keep up with him. But it's hard to even remember why we ever smiled before they were born."

Kevin grinned. "You're lucky to have these two for parents, little man," he told Niall, tapping the baby's back gently with the tip of one finger.

"We should go check on Ty," Karen said.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Chris told Kevin. "Let us know if you need any help on Monday. My wife's a writer and I'm a musician. We're pretty much always around."

"I'd hate to be a bother," Kevin said. "Besides, we've got movers to handle most of it." Of course they did. "Once we're settled in, maybe we'll have you over for dinner or something. We've both got boring old day jobs, so you won't see us too much during the day, but Marie loves having people over."

"You hear that?" Karen asked as they walked up the driveway. "

Marie

is a real people person. How lovely! I just know we're going to hit it off."

"I love you," Chris said, putting his hand on the small of her back.

His wife eyed him askance. "Good. I'm glad. I love you too." After a pause, she added, "Any particular reason for saying so?"

He planted a kiss on her cheek. "None at all."

"Well," she said, smiling softly. "Sorry if I wasn't very welcoming. It's just-"

"I know," Chris said. "But let's try to give them a chance, okay?"

"Okay," Karen replied.

#

That Tuesday, their new neighbors paid them a surprise visit.

"I know, the tradition goes the other way," Marie said as she handed Karen a tray of macaroni and cheese that was loaded with chunks of ham. "But Kev told me that he'd invited you over for dinner," she added, flashing her husband a disapproving look, "and I know how hard it must be to get out of the house with little kids around."

Chris could just hear his wife thinking to herself, "Do you really? You

know

what that's like, Miss So-Young-She-Still-Gets-Carded-at-the-Movie-Theater?" But thankfully, Karen kept her mask in place, smiling faintly and maintaining eye contact.

"So I figured we'd bring dinner to you," Marie finished.

"That's so sweet of you," Karen said, her words sounding a bit insincere to Chris, but apparently not to their guests. If he didn't know her so well, he'd probably have fallen for it too. "You really didn't have to do that." She peeled back one corner of the tin foil and gave the contents of the tray a quick glance. "Ty

will

love it, though."

Indeed he would. If his mother would let him, the boy would put himself on a strict diet of nothing but chicken fingers and mac and cheese. The ham would take some getting used to, but not much, Chris suspected.

He gave their neighbors a smile of his own as he took the tray from Karen and headed into the kitchen. "Can I get either of you something to drink?" he called over his shoulder.

"Sure," Kevin said. "The missus would like wine. I'll have whiskey, if you have any. Otherwise wine for me as well."

That tickled something in the back of his mind, but he wasn't sure why. "I've got bourbon," he said, though he somehow knew that his neighbor didn't consider that proper whiskey. A Tullamore Dew or the like might suit him, but nothing made from

corn

.

"Wine it is, then," Kevin said without elaboration.

There was no snark there. If he objected to the implication that the pride of Kentucky counted as whiskey, he didn't let it show. Yet Chris had known that the man would refuse. He couldn't have said how, but he'd known.

"Oh, dear, don't be so fussy," Marie said. "Honestly, I can't take him anywhere," she added, presumably for Karen's benefit.

"Hey mister!" Ty shouted, charging down the hall from his playroom. "Look at my truck. It's just like yours," He held the toy up for their guests to see. Then he noticed that there were two guests. "Oooh,

she's

pretty," he said to Chris as if no one else could hear. Then he span around, plopped down onto his knees, and raced his truck back to his room with a loud "VROOOM!"

They all laughed awkwardly at the boy's antics.

"Sorry," Chris said. "Just last week, he was still in the girls have cooties phase."

"They DO!" Ty shouted. "Most of 'em."

"Isn't he just adorable," Marie said.

Chris cringed, nearly smacking the bottle of merlot against the marble counter top. He could only imagine the patently insincere smile that must have earned her from Karen. A more modest woman would have said "It's okay," or "Boys will be boys" or something equally dismissive. Maybe even, "Glad I'm exempt. I hear cooties is the worst." But not Marie. She actually took the child's words as a compliment. Because of course it was. What male, however young or old, could look at her and think otherwise?