Homelands Pt 08 Ch 03

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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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Caronwyn walked into the kitchen, holding up one of Niall's pacifiers. "Look what we forgot," she said so sorrowfully he could almost imagine that she was mocking herself.

She should just go ahead and change out of her jeans and cropped top into a black dress with a veil covering her face. Otherwise, there'd be a teeny little sliver of a chance that the world would fail to recognize that she was in mourning.

He missed their sons too. The thought of having to wait nearly a year to see them again hurt. So did knowing that he'd miss the rest of their childhood. He'd miss Ty's excited screams and inappropriate comments to strangers. He'd miss the infinite happiness infusing little Niall's gurgling laugher. But they had no choice. And they'd see them again.

Soon, he hoped.

With a faint but sympathetic frown, Cahill put a hand on the small of his mother's back and drew her to his chest. "They'll be okay."

"You don't know that," his mother said in the voice of a pouty child. As she did, she smacked him with the pacifier, using all the force necessary to smash through balsa wood.

"But I do," he replied. "And so do you."

They hadn't chosen new families for their sons as carefully as they might have if they'd had all the time in the world, of course, but they

had

chosen carefully. Niall had replaced the only child of a couple near Nashville, while Ty would grow up just outside of Austin with an older sister and a younger brother that did not share his blood. Their youngest son would be raised by a successful record producer while the woman their firstborn would call "Mom" was the lead singer in a neo-traditional folk band. Cahill would have preferred to teach them about music himself, naturally, but at least they'd be exposed. If they'd inherited the gift

his

father had passed on to

him

, they'd have the chance to nourish it. To enter Faerie in possession of a gift valued most heavily by the fey. And that was the least of what their mortal families would give them. The parents would never even know that they weren't raising their own sons. They'd shower them with all the love and affection they would have the children who'd been taken away from them.

The glamours he and Caronwyn had cast over them would see to that.

His mother offered nary a word of protest. Just stared at him as she put the pacifier on the counter in a manner that suggested she thought that the very presence of the toy made her point for her. As if she hadn't already played that card.

Cahill sighed and kissed her forehead.

"What if they're mean?" she asked, as she already had a hundred times before that. "What if they don't love them?"

"They won't be," he said.

His mother's questions were merely rhetorical. Born of a guilty conscience. Cahill had made each of the parents play a bit of music for him, using instruments he'd crafted with his own hands. He'd always felt a deep connection to music, but now that his aunt had restored his memories he was constantly discovering new ways that talent manifested itself. One of those was that anyone who played any of his instruments would inadvertently lay their souls bare to him as surely as they would if he seduced them and drank of their Libidos. Perhaps even more so. He felt as confident as could be that their boys were with good, kind folk. Salt of the earth, as Mary Donovan would have said.

"You've done this before," he said to Caronwyn. "Several times."

She looked up at him with an expression he probably should have found a lot more humbling and a lot less endearing. "Point being?" she asked.

"Doesn't it get easier?"

"Not in the least," she replied. Then, before he could react to that, she added, "Well, maybe a little. But you're still gonna have to deal with a lot of moping. Got that?"

He gave her a small smile.

And tried to pretend that he couldn't hear Niall cooing from the other room, or the little thuds of Ty bouncing around his room while fighting invisible ninja zombies from Mars.

It wasn't going to be easy. His mother was right about that, at least. There might not be any reason to doubt that they were in good hands, but they were still in the

wrong

hands.

"If we didn't have another one on the way, I'm not sure I could've gone through with it," his mother said, taking a hand off his shoulder and placing it over her abdomen.

They'd have to give her up too, though. Not long after they welcomed her into the world.

Fairy tales might be fit for children, but the world of Faerie was not. His mother could give birth to their daughter there, as she'd had him and Fiona and all of the other children Arawn had given her. But their daughter could not dwell long amongst the fey. By the time she was old enough to form lasting memories, she'd need to be in the Dreaming. Best not to keep her even that long, if they could help it.

Actually, it would be best to place her with a mortal family before the queen ever learned of her existence. The last thing they needed was for Titania to discover that Clan Walker now counted purebred children among its number. They might not be able to hide that from her as it was, but they had to at least try.

All that was for another day, though. For now, he'd let her dream her dreams and believe that the pain she felt wouldn't return almost as soon as it left.

"What's she like?" he asked, not for the first time.

"You'll see," his mother replied.

Previous attempts had gotten a little more than that out of her, but not much. All she'd said so far was that they'd name her Wynne and that their little girl would be closer to one of her brothers than the other. Not that she'd bothered to say which one.

That his yet-to-be-born daughter might form a strong bond with one of her brothers hardly came as much of a revelation. Though Cahill hadn't spent much time among the fey yet, he already knew that it was common for their kind to pair up, despite all the talk of sharing their love equally. What he wanted to know was who she'd fall for, and whether their son would return those feelings. Whether she'd be lighthearted like Oona and Brittany or responsible like Fiona and Caronwyn.

How happy she'd be.

The look on his mother's face, though, made it clear that he'd get no more from her.

She hadn't said that he was to blame for her feeling so down. Doubtless, she'd be happy enough enough to concede that the plan had been as much hers as his. Which it

had

been. But her Libido told a very simple story. He was the bad guy in this. She knew that it wasn't fair of her to feel as though it was all his fault, and she was trying not to let herself feel the way she did, but she felt it all the same.

"What would it hurt if I got to raise my own children, just this once?" she asked, as though he were the spokesperson for Queen Titania.

"I don't know," Cahill replied.

They both knew that there was no grand conspiracy to keep her away from Niall and Tynan. They weren't returning to Faerie because of a royal decree that they part ways with their children, but because their family needed them. Clan Walker was in trouble.

His mother knew that, of course. But she wasn't in the mood to be reasonable. If he pointed out that she was being unreasonable, though, he'd only make matters worse.

It probably didn't help that the source of the message had been who it had been. His mother was triply suspicious of Liadan. Not only was she the Lady of Mischief, but the queen's own daughter, and a rival for her son's affections to boot.

At least, that was how she saw it. No woman could steal him from his mother. She had to know that. But, that said, Cahill couldn't deny that he felt a powerful attraction to the dark-skinned beauty. Though she might be a Dreamsmyth, and the Puck, she was also his aunt. His blood. And she'd done nothing that led him to harm so far.

In fact, she'd been more than a little helpful.

If not for her, he'd never have awoken from the Dreaming. Nor would his father have owed him a boon. Granted, she'd set him on the right path for her own reasons. There could be no doubt about that. He was but a pawn in the game of chess she played against the rest of Clan Dreamsmyth. But even so. All things considered, Cahill didn't consider Liadan to be half as nefarious as his mother and sister did.

And surely Caronwyn knew

that

too.

He'd been smart enough to leave out the fact that he'd fucked Liadan silly before getting around to asking her to clarify her cryptic messages, of course, but his mother knew more than enough about his first interaction with her. And his mother must have seen some painful things in his Libido when he'd mentioned his aunt's name. Try as he might, Cahill couldn't keep from feeling a little rush of excitement as her lovely name rolled off his lips.

For that matter, suspect as the

harbinger

herself was, the

words

she'd spoken had been so vague that Caronwyn likely would have discounted them even if they'd come from her own mother. Truthfully, they had no idea what trouble Clan Walker was in. And that meant that it was almost,

almost

, like they weren't really in trouble at all. What significance could his mother attach to a nebulous warning delivered by an untrustworthy source? Why should that get in the way of the pain she felt?

Cahill smiled faintly at his mother before leaning down and kissing the top of her head. The brief contact brought a pleasant tingle to his lips. He lingered a bit, allowing the strawberry smell of her hair to tease his nostrils.

"We'll come back," he said. "After this is all over. We'll be the first Walkers to enter the Dreaming freely, and to raise our children here."

His mother's eyes lit up. "You promise?"

Cahill hesitated.

His father still owed him a boon. Like as not, the Lord of Remembrance had hoped his son would remain lost in the Dreaming forever, forgetting all about the debt he was owed. But with a little help from the man's own sister, Cahill had regained his memories. There'd be no denying him his due now. And what better way to use such an asset?

Yet there was no telling when "this" would be over. Or whether he'd be in any position to make demands from his father, or his father in any position to grant them, when it was.

"It's okay," she said sadly before he could answer. "I understand." Her lips formed the faintest of smiles, a reflection of an echo of a facsimile. "You'll do your best," she added before brushing her fingers lightly through his hair.

A stab of pain pierced his heart. He couldn't bear to see that look on her face, or hear that disappointment in her voice. But the last thing he wanted to do was make a promise he couldn't keep. Not just because breaking a promise to his mother would cause him more than just a stab of pain, but also because he felt sure that promises had power among their kind. It likely wouldn't go well for him if he made her a promise he never fulfilled.

He'd read stories as a child of men and women outwitting the fey, forcing them into a Catch-22. The fey had always died or gone insane. He didn't know how much truth there was to the tales, but he wasn't about to put that particular hypothesis to the test.

"Really," she said, in a voice that was better suited to consoling him than it was asking him to do the same for her, "it's okay."

He nodded.

"Bout time we go see what all the fuss is all about, wouldn't you say?" she asked.

The emotion she injected into her voice as she spoke those words was so very opposite from what he sensed in her Libido that he almost laughed.

"Still one last thing we need to do before we leave," Cahill replied softly.

"I know," his mother replied with feigned resignation. "I just hope he doesn't bring Candy. Or Mandy. Whatever her name is."

She knew full well that Kearney's current toy was named Brandy, but Cahill didn't bother to correct her. It was nice to see her channeling her energy into disapproving of their neighbor's love life rather than their children. Besides, even he found it a bit disconcerting that Kearney had lately been changing wives nearly as often as most men did their socks. Especially since every one of them seemed to believe they'd been with him for years. Of course, Kearney had been under the same impression, but he couldn't quite blame his mother for seeing a sad old man cycling through one pretty little thing after another. That each one was younger and dumber than the last didn't help anything either. She knew who and what the man was now, and that his true identity had been hidden from him the same way theirs had been from them, but one thing his ignorance couldn't explain away was his taste.

Still, he wondered if his mother appreciated that their neighbor might be starting to remember who he was, if only on a subconscious level. That, as a Dreamsmyth, he had greater control over this world than either of them did. It was only natural that the parts of the Dreaming with which he interacted behave according to dream logic. And better men than him had done things in their dreams that they'd disavow upon waking.

Cahill was almost surprised that his mother hadn't proposed leaving the queen's son stranded in the Dreaming. Good thing she hadn't, since Cahill hadn't seen fit to tell her that helping Kearney would honor a boon he owed to Liadan.

"I'll be sure to pass that on," he told her.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" his mother said, as he'd known she would. She smacked his arm for emphasis, though not hard enough to cause any pain. "If she tags along, we'll just find an excuse to get rid of her. Not like he'll miss her or anything."

She hadn't meant it that way. Couldn't have. Even if she had, mortals who died in the Dreaming didn't die. They just sort of moved on. But after what they'd done to two innocent mortal children just that morning, his mother's words sent a chill down his spine.

"We can run out of wine, for example," his mother said. "Send her out to the store. That'll give us almost an hour. Won't need more than that, will we?"

"That should do it," Cahill said, trying to hide his relief.

A solid minute or two would plenty, if need be. But Kearney would have questions for them, as they would him. How had one of the queen's own sons had come to suffer such a fate? Why Titania had allowed it to happen?

"Or you could just tell him that she's not invited," Caronwyn added.

"Stop," Cahill said, giving her bottom a playful pinch.

"They're not even gonna be together much longer," she continued.

That was true enough. But "Kevin" didn't know that, and he'd be somewhat less inclined to accept their invitation if they bluntly told him that his wife wasn't welcome.

"You keep this up and you might not get any more kisses," Cahill said.

She stared at him flatly.

"Try me," he said.

He was bluffing, of course. The power to resist his mother was one he neither possessed nor ever hoped to. But he hadn't

actually

said the he'd withhold his lips. Just implied it. His mother slid a hand down between his legs and caressed his rapidly hardening cock through the fabric of his jeans. "I think someone begs to differ."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Cahill said. "Not like you're completely and utterly irresistible or anything."

"Mmm-hmm," she said, accusing him of bullshit in that polite way that mothers have.

If he'd have let her, she'd have gone up on tiptoes and started nibbling his ear. But he was having none of that. Not just yet. Cahill grabbed the phone from the counter, pushed it towards her, and said, "Call and invite

the two of them

over for dinner. Then we can play."

She studied him quietly for a few moments before saying, "You got yourself a deal."

On some level, he was aware that most women didn't go from a deep state of melancholy to one of forced pleasantness to absolute prurience in such a short time. That a mortal wouldn't be able to take her mind off the children she'd given up just that very morning.

But the fey were different.

Ever since Cahill had restored his mother's memories a few days ago, they'd been indulging in their true natures every chance they got. Granted, with two small children in the house, such chances had been few and far between. But the change had still been noticeable. Even so, she suddenly hungered for him as powerfully as any woman ever had for any man. Almost as if she hadn't felt his touch in months.

The look in her eyes clearly indicated that the world would burn if she didn't get what she wanted

soon

. And that made his dick twitch in excitement.

Of the many things he loved about his mother, and there were a great many, the way she looked at him like that figured prominently. No amount of loving was ever enough for her, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

While eye-fucking him so hard he nearly creamed in his pants, his mother took the phone from him and dialed their neighbor's number.

Cahill felt more anxious than he ever had with a mortal woman. Yes, they'd been living together as man and wife for years, and they'd made love countless times before that. But that didn't matter. His desire for her only grew stronger with time. He knew

precisely

what wonders awaited him, and that did nothing at all to soothe him.

"I'm good, thanks," his mother said into the phone as she started unfastening his belt with her free hand. "And you?"

Cahill allowed his hand to drop down from the small of his mother's back to the swell of her perfect ass. The soft cotton of her green dress felt good, but he could only curse its existence as he gave one big buttock a firm squeeze.

A look of sympathy swept across his mother's face as she said, "Sorry to hear that," into the phone. "Is her mother going to be alright?"

The hand on her ass stopped kneading it.

"That's good at least," Caronwyn said a bit later.

With that, Cahill resumed fondling her incredible backside. His mother didn't pick back up where she'd left off with his jeans, but she did give him a naughty grin and mouth, "You're bad." That was permission enough.

He'd missed this body. Every word of praise he'd ever lavished on "Karen" had been sincere. His mother looked

damn

good even when she did her best to pass as a mortal. But in this, her true form, she was beyond sexy. Her beauty was blinding, her curves exaggerated, and her skin impossibly smooth and fair.

No woman could be more perfect.

Cahill hiked the hem of her dress up, allowing him delight in the touch of her bare skin. He nearly climaxed as his fingers gripped her ass tight and little bolts of ecstasy raced up through his fingers and palms. As he squeezed, she clenched her cheeks together, reminding him of the thick steel undergirding her pillowy mounds.

"Well, we were going to invite the two of you over for dinner," she told their neighbor, allowing her glutes to relax as she did. The abrupt shift from firm back to soft and supple took his breath away. "Nothing you can do for her there. Might as well come over."

"Tell him we've got Tullamore Dew," Cahill said.