Homelands Pt. 06 Ch. 02

Even after she swallowed several gobs of it, his balls kept pumping. He pulled back, let the tip of his cock rest against her lower lip, and shot a few more spurts onto her tongue. Then he withdraw from her mouth entirely and jerked himself vigorously as he covered her from hair to navel in his sticky goo.

As each rope landed on her, Gabriela giggled. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling in the world, but neither was it the worst. And it only took a thought to clean up. More importantly, it made her feel good, powerful, sexy, to know that she could make a man cum so endlessly. It didn't matter that she knew he was only able to serve up that much spunk through supernatural intervention. That it was the energy he was drawing out of his Libido that he was coating her in as much as it was his sperm.

When he finally finished and plopped down onto the couch behind him, she sat there and led him to savor the image. Just for a few moments, though. Then she shook herself off like a dog that had just come in from the rain. What didn't go flying simply evaporated.

"Every bit as talented as I remember," Hank said.

"At cum removal?" Gabriela asked, climbing to her feet.

"You know what I mean."

"I could say the same," she replied. "But I've never had your talent for empty flattery."

"You wound me," he said, draping a hand over his heart.

"Mmm hmm," she said, straddling his hips. "I'm sure. How ever will you recover?"

He planted his hands firmly on the tops of her butt cheeks and pulled her closer to him. "I have a few ideas," he said, before pulling her in for a kiss.

When his monster cock forced its way inside her, she felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She'd have had an easier time accommodating his fist and his forearm. But after a minute or so to get used to his unnatural size, it felt good. No one filled her up like that.

And no one knew her body like he did. Hank didn't need to be told when to speed up or slow down, to give it to her faster or harder. His every touch, every kiss, every thrust, was perfectly timed and perfectly placed.

There was a small voice in the back of her mind that argued, rather insistently, that she couldn't allow herself to think such things. He was not her husband anymore, and he neither was nor ever had been the perfect lover. He was cold and distant. A master dancer going through a routine. To an outsider, his movements achieved a rare and haunting beauty. But to the artist himself, there was no life or passion involved. For him, it was little different than a child reciting their multiplication tables. Hank didn't love her. Wouldn't travel to the ends of the universe for her. Wouldn't risk his life for her.

There was only one, now, who would do that.

Her son.

Yet, with Hank inside her, his many mouths piously worshiping her, and his strong hands holding her, it wasn't hard to tune that voice out. To let herself get swept away by nostalgia and fantasy. To imagine that there was something more taking place between the two of them. That fate had brought them back together. When it was all over, she could go back to not believing in grand forces like fate. Until then, she'd cling to the illusion.

Those green eyes lied so well.

When they lit up, Gabriela told herself that it was his passion for her that was shining through. No matter that his Libido, as ever, was calm and still. His breathing remained steady and his hard body dry, his brow unmarred by sweat. As long as he looked at her like that, luminescent eyes unblinking, she could believe what she needed to believe.

After she rode him to an intense climax, they took a break for Gabriela to catch her breath and shared another drink. Their glasses were empty again before long though, and then Hank was taking her from behind.

Slowly, Gabriela regained her bearings. No longer did she feel lost at sea in the midst of a typhoon. Little by little, she brought out a few of her own tricks.

"Oh, fuck," the king panted.

His thrusts grew slower and slower. He lingered longer and longer every time he slid home. The smell of his sweat filled the air.

"What's the matter?" she asked, giving her hips a wiggle.

"Not a thing," Hank replied.

"No?" Gabriela asked.

Before he could reply, she attacked his captive member. Her womb reshaped itself, taking hold of him and massaging him from within. With his senses amplified as heavily as they were, she could only imagine what that must have felt like for him.

He gasped, grabbed hold of her hips, and shuddered. His balls danced against her body as he started to climax. Gabriela's womb quickly filled to overflowing. The king poured his royal cum into her body and his abundant energy into her Libido.

As he did, she herself gasped for air.

Everything she'd ever known or cared about suddenly seemed insignificant. With that much power in her, she could do whatever she pleased. Rule over Summer. Challenge the ancients. Walk along the shores and swim in the seas of the one true mortal realm. Men would worship her, and not just figuratively. Women would envy her and yearn for her and love her, even as they cursed her name.

It had never been like that before.

Hank had never been weak. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But getting him off had never given her such a rush. Not even just a little while ago that evening. Somehow, she'd broken through all his defenses, and discovered just how powerful he was.

And it terrified her.

It was exhilarating at first. And she couldn't help but wonder if even Nina had ever gotten him to open up quite so fully as she just had. There was a powerful ego boost in that, to be sure. But she couldn't savor it. Not now that she knew exactly how strong Hank was.

No man should be allowed to amass that much power.

The evening's activities didn't end there. But both she and Hank were considerably more reserved after that. And neither dared speak of what had happened.

#

As soon as they got inside the spare bedroom, Eric grabbed his aunt and threw her on the bed. He'd told enough himself so many times in the past that she wasn't really his type, but a few minutes of her grinding all up on him had his engine threatening to overheat.

It wasn't anything she did. If he could step back and be objective about it for a moment, he'd have had no problem saying that Liv put her to shame. His cousin could tear up a dance floor. And often did. If his aunt could as well, she hadn't done much to prove it.

But when she'd rubbed her ass against him, small and shapeless as it was, he'd felt something. Eric had lived in the Homelands long enough to know that the electricity coursing through his body had been supernatural, that Nina was putting her considerable power to use enchanting the shit out of him. But it didn't matter that he knew exactly what she was doing to him. She'd still done it, and it had still worked.

On some level, he was still Eric of House Moody, son of Hank Fisher. A proud and powerful immortal who could have any woman he desired, whose bed was warmed each night by the stunning goddess who'd given birth to him.

Yet, if only in his mind, he was something else entirely. A starved lion whose belly had been empty for so long that the poor beast had gone half-mad. There was no room for pride left in that desperate creature. No concern about the loss of dignity he'd suffer if he pounced too soon. There was only the relentless, unforgiving, gnawing hunger.

"A little eager are we?" Nina asked, giggling, as she rolled onto her back.

The smile on her face made Eric question precisely who was predator and who prey.

"You look a lot like your father, you know," she said. "Anyone ever told you that?"

Eric had been about to jump on her, wicked grin or no. But that gave him pause.

"Especially with your eyes glowing like that. Blue's not so different from green anyway."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that.

He decided not to though. That dress of hers was too intact. It was in desperate need of being ripped to shreds and scattered across the room. So, with alacrity that would have shamed the lion he almost believed he was, Eric leapt onto the bed.

Which was suddenly empty.

"Oh, you can do better than that," Nina said.

He spun around.

She stood now by the door, which they'd left open. Her brown eyes fixed on him, she raised one heel and eased it shut. Eric wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or not, but her dress seemed to have gotten even tighter. Her breasts, so much smaller than his mothers yet so much larger than made any sense for a woman of her build, might as well have been exposed. The fabric clung to her body so tightly, in fact, that he could make out where her mound was shaved bald and where she'd left a tuft of pubic hair.

"You tease," Eric said. Or perhaps snarled.

"Me?" she asked, looking off to the side and pumping her hair with an upraised palm.

He slipped out of bed, moving slowly and tentatively. One leg swung onto the floor. His weight shifted forward. As he started to rise, the other leg joined the first on the carpeted floor. Aunt Nina still hadn't disappeared again.

He rushed forward.

And ran right into the door.

"Come on," his aunt's voice called from over by the window. "This isn't even going to be fun, if you make it that easy."

"Didn't know I was supposed to be helping you enjoy torturing me," he replied.

"Well, you are," she said.

Eric split himself in two.

"Now we're talking," Nina replied.

It still took him four more tries before he wrapped his arms around his aunt's waist and pinned her against the wall. She was laughing her fool head off as he tore her dress to pretty little shreds, covering the floor with scarlet ribbons. She kept right on laughing as he guided his rock hard cock up to her womanhood.

The laughter stopped as he pushed his way inside though.

"Oh, fuck," his aunt groaned. "You really are your father's son."

"Go on," Eric said, pulling her hair tight. "Compare me to him again."

"Mmmm, I guess we know who's in charge here."

He gave her bare ass a good slap by way of confirmation.

Nina fell silent as Eric used her for his pleasure. She barely even moved. If she knew how to make her body do the things his mother always did for him, she was keeping that to herself. It was almost disappointing. She was tight, and he was burning hot for her, for a release, so it didn't take long for Eric to finish. But he'd sort of expected to feel the ground tremble, for his mind to fill with images of clouds parting and angels singing and fireworks sparkling. Expected to feel something different. Something unique.

Turned out, his aunt was just another woman. Her cunt was warm and wet and welcoming, the same as any other box he'd ever been inside. No more and no less.

"My turn," she said, after Eric pulled out.

Then he realized how wrong he'd been.

She had, of course, been playing with him. Humoring him. He'd behaved as if he was in charge, so she'd let him feel like he was. Made herself into a living doll until he finished.

Over the new few hours, his aunt rocked his world. She toyed with him, dominated him, submitted to him, chewed him up, and spit him out. They tied each other up. Decorated each other's bodies with love bites and hand prints and scratches.

It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

In part, that was because of how powerful she was. There were times where he'd been fucking something decidedly inhuman. Something much furrier, but with too many humanoid features to really be considered a tiger. They'd made love in the air, defying gravity. Hands and mouths and eyes had floated all around them, playing an important supporting role. The sights, sounds, and smells that his aunt conjured up served as a perfect complement to the physical and metaphysical pleasures his body was trying to process.

But it was also something simpler than that.

Eric had never met a woman who'd proposed trying most of the things they did that night. Had never really thought he'd be interested in them. Might not even be, after tonight. Yet, if only as a one-and-done proposition, just to see what it was like, the kinky shit she introduced him to proved quite enjoyable.

Afterwards, they lay side by side, breathing heavily and slowly healing their wounds.

"I never would have guessed you were into that stuff," Eric said.

"Maybe I'm not," she said.

"You and my father don't play tigers and dragons too often?"

She grinned faintly. "Now you want me to compare you to him?"

Eric chuckled. "Fair enough."

His aunt reached down and took hold of his semi-flaccid cock, stroking him languidly. "Just felt like something you'd go for. For some time now, you haven't been sure whether you want to fuck me or fight me. Figured I'd let you have your cake and eat it too."

There wasn't much to say to that. So he just leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"So," she said. "It's a lion, is it?"

Eric laughed. "Guess so."

"Suits you."

"Thanks," he said, a bit unsure of himself. It came out almost like a question.

"Lions and tigers sometimes mate, you know," Nina said. "The offspring are either called ligers or tions, depending on which was the mother and which the father."

Eric stared up at the ceiling, a smile on his face. "Learn something new everyday."

"Have you thought about having offspring?" she asked.

He coughed and sat up. "Are you...."

"Not with me, silly," she said. "Just making conversation."

"Not exactly `some weather we're having' or anything."

With a sigh, his aunt sat up too, crossing her slender legs beneath her. "What weather? It's always warm and sunny and perfect in Summer."

Eric ran his hand through his hair nervously. Suddenly he felt overexposed. A pair of pajama pants appeared out of nowhere, covering him up. "You know what I mean."

"It was just a question," Aunt Nina said, reaching out to place a hand on his knee.

"Your brother asked me the same thing earlier today," he said. "Forgive me if I find it hard to think that that's a coincidence."

"My brother," she said flatly.

"He is, isn't he?"

"Yes, Hank is indeed my brother," Nina replied, rolling her eyes. "That doesn't mean the sun rises in the east and sets in the west because we conspired to make it so."

"Why does he care if I have kids?"

Her hand retreated. "That you'd have to ask him. How the hell should I know?"

Eric stared into his aunt's beautiful face for a few moments. There was anger there, but pain as well. He wished he had Nick's talent for reading Libidos. Even after having gotten intimate with her, he couldn't sense much more than that she was incredibly powerful. Which he already knew. It could all be an act, and he'd have no way of knowing.

He didn't think it was though.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand in his and raising to his mouth to brush the backs of her fingers with his lips. "It's just hard to trust him."

"Because he lied about Patty and Kurt?"

"Well, there's that," Eric said. "But I was thinking more along the lines of abandoning us when we were children. So he could be with you, apparently."

"Can you blame him," she asked with a devilish grin.

Eric chuckled in spite of himself.

"I'm not him," Nina continued. "Nor am I responsible for everything he does." She took her hand from his and pressed it to his cheek. "I ask if you've thought of having children because I'd love to meet them. You'd make a great father."

"He said that too."

"Maybe because it's true," his aunt replied.

"Maybe," Eric said.

"What I need to do in order to get you to trust me?" Nina asked.

"I don't know," he replied.

A sad expression settled over her face.

Eric grabbed his aunt by the shoulders, spun her around, and pulled her against him. Her back pressed against his chest and the clean smell of her hair filled his nostrils. He rubbed her slender little shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

"He doesn't even tell me half the shit he's planning," Nina complained, her voice bordering on shrill. How that could be so cute, Eric wasn't sure, but it was. Perhaps because he liked seeing her helpless and frustrated. "Do you know how long he waited to tell me that Annie wasn't just serving him as Shadow temporarily? That even after I rejoined the court, she'd keep that title?"

"Really?" Eric asked.

"Yup," she said. "Not that I'm jealous. Better her than me, I say. The less involved I am in politics, the better. But you'd think he'd at least have told me."

"Yeah," he replied.

His aunt rolled her head against his shoulder and looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Don't do that to your mother." She paused a moment before explaining what she meant by that. "When you become king. If you don't intend to name her as your Shadow, and you'd be a fool not to, at least tell her. Straight away."

"Why are we talking about me becoming king?"

"Oh, please," she said. "We all know it's just a matter of time. Might not be soon, but the day is definitely coming."

His heart beat faster.

"Fatherhood, on the other hand...."

#

The door creaked open and footsteps creaked across the floor.

Annie did her best to lie still.

The bed shifted as he sat down on the edge of it. His breathing was steady and soft. The smell of him, that earthy musk with the slightest hint of sulfur and ashes, awakened her Libido. Her dragon, come to her in the middle of the night. But not for that. Not this time.

Suddenly, she felt like a child. And not in the good way that so often happened when she was with him. At that moment, she wasn't a little princess with a magical ability to make her daddy smile. She was naughty little Annie, the girl who'd gotten in trouble at school for beating up boys and cutting another girl's hair and talking back to the teacher. The rebellious youth who would do anything just to get a little attention.

"I know you're awake," her father said.

Of course he did. It hadn't taken Annie long to figure out that it was utterly impossible to deceive him in even the smallest of ways.

"Okay," he said, sounding more amused than upset. "I'll talk, you listen."

She adjusted her position. Rolling about in her sleep, trying to get more comfortable, perhaps. Or maybe acknowledging his proposal.

He'd know which, obviously. But she felt like she had some plausible deniability at least.

"Even judging by his version, it sounds like he deserved what he got," her father said. "So if I was there to see what really happened, I'm sure I'd think you did nothing wrong."

Interesting.

Annie considered lowering the covers, but decided to continue the charade a little longer.

"But his mother sees things differently."

There it was. There'd obviously been a "but" coming.

"I've always thought she was too soft on him," her father continued. "But we agreed long ago that I would defer to her when it came to Troy and she to me with Mike."

Perhaps that explained why they'd turned out so differently.

"So I've got to punish you."

Without so much as bothering to ask her permission, Annie's pussy started to get wet. It might be different with her actually have done something wrong, if only in Aunt Nina's mind, but she so loved it when her daddy punished her.

Annie sat up. She didn't bother feigning a yawn or rubbing the slumber from her eyes.

"Okay," she said.

Her father gave her a sad grin. "No, not like that, princess."

"Oh." Should've continued pretending to be asleep then. "Why not?"

"She insisted that Troy take part."

"Nuh uh," Annie said, shaking her head and crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

"This isn't a discussion," her father said. "I'm telling you what's going to happen."

She slammed her fists into the bed. "But Daddy!"