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Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 01

By: jdnunyer



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Author's note

Part Ten begins the portion of the series set in Winter. At this point, it's pretty important for you to have read the first nine parts of the story.

This is primarily an incest story, but it is also sci-fi/fantasy and horror, and supernatural elements are not incidental to the plot. Additionally, many chapters will feature elements of other categories, particularly group sex.

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. I'll try to respond promptly.

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"So?" Kristen whispered excitedly as soon as the driver side door closed beside her. "Whaddaya think? He's totally your type, isn't he?"

Yvette shrugged.

"Oh, c'mon!" her roommate exclaimed, smacking her thigh. "Hell, I think he's kinda hot, and I don't usually go for the hairy, bearded ones. I mean, did you see his eyes?"

"Yes, they're blue," Yvette said, sounding to her own ear like Professor Adams, who never quite sounded like he meant it when he told a student that they'd made a good point. "That's not the only thing I care about, you know."

"Course not," came the reply, as though Kristen was perfectly aware of the point. But if she was, it was new to Yvette. Especially since she seemed to feel the need to point out every single pair of blue eyes that crossed their path, no matter how unexceptional the guy might be in all other respects. "Bet he's hiding some killer abs under that hoodie."

Probably. He looked pretty fit.

But that wasn't the point.

True, Zach didn't just have nice eyes. Though the many layers he wore made it a little hard to tell, all indications were that he was lean and muscular but not too bulky. The ropes of muscle she caught a brief glimpse of when he'd rolled up his sleeves and the round butt that filled out the seat of his pants were even a little drool-worthy. Plus, he was just the right height. A few inches taller than her, but not so tall he'd be hard to kiss. And had one of those thick, medium-length beards that drove Yvette loved to run her fingers through. Or nuzzle up against. Maybe even bite, if the guy was open-minded.

But looks weren't everything.

Take the best body in the world, put blue eyes in his head and a nice beard on his face, and that still wouldn't make up for an obnoxious personality. Which, in her experience, was about all one could expect from guys like Zach. From most guys their age, truth be told.

God, back in high school, Yvette had dreamed of college guys. How naive. It had only taken a few weeks at U-Dub for her to see that, if anything, college guys were worse. Especially ones who called their guy friends "dude" or "bro" all the time. She'd only heard Zach do so once so far, but that was enough. Even if he didn't seem to be as bad as his friend Curt. Plus, the very fact that he was friends with a guy like Curt said a lot.

Not that Kristen would have understood any of that. Particularly since she had the hots for Curt, and bad. The poor girl had absolutely no taste.

Okay, fine, Curt was tall, pretty, and incredibly fit. Too tall for Yvette's tastes, and too pretty, but she understood that some girls went for that. And, if one really need the attention of self-declared alphas to feel validated, then his excessive peacocking probably only made him seem like a good candidate for doling out such honors.

Yvette couldn't claim to be immune to that. Confidence turned her on almost as much as the next girl. But she was of the mind that quiet self-assurance said a lot more than loud braggadocio. Besides, there was something really adorable about shy guys too. They were more likely to be sweet. To treat her like more than a pair of tits and a wet hole. If Curt had ever looked at a woman and seen anything else, it would shock Yvette.

Good thing she'd agreed to spend a weekend alone in a cabin with him then.

Well, not alone. There'd be four of them there. And, with any luck, Kristen would likely occupy most of his attention. But Yvette was already wondering just how much damage it would do to her relationship with the girl she'd be sharing a dorm with for the rest of the year if she asked her to turn around and drive back to campus.

They'd only been on I-80 for an hour, after all. No big deal, right?

The truck's engine roared loudly then settled down to a throaty purr. Her friend smiled at her and shifted from park to drive. "Gonna be a fun weekend."

Yvette sighed.

She wondered how long it would take her to get used to everyone, even those with two X chromosomes, driving pickups. How long before she stopped missing Cheyenne and feeling like an outsider. It wasn't like she was a dang city girl or anything. Cheyenne wasn't Chicago. And she'd spent plenty of time outdoors on family vacations. But she still having trouble adjusting to how different life was in the rest of the state.

"But you're right not to get too worked up," her roommate said as she pulled out of the gas station parking lot. "For all we know, he's got a small dick."

"You're terrible," Yvette said, smiling in spite of herself.

She didn't want to be the kind of girl who smiled at such comments. Who really would be disappointed if a guy turned out to be too small. Or too close to average, for that matter. She didn't want to be that kind of girl...but she was.

At times, she felt like some other Yvette lived inside her. One that mostly only came out to play on weekends, but left the real Yvette bound and gagged in a locked icebox somewhere whenever she did. That Yvette liked to party. To get fucked. And wasn't afraid to go to some pretty dark and painful places along the way.

The mere thought filled her with shame. And dampened her panties at the same time.

Her friends from high school all thought her a complete nerd, the kind of girl whose favorite toy was an iPad rather than a vibrator. At U-Dub, everyone seemed to think Yvette was a metal-loving, wrist-cutting, antisocial Goth. Which was, of course, precisely what she wanted them to think. Dressing the way she did, to say nothing of the tattoos and piercings she'd picked up over the summer, ensured that the guys in her math and science classes didn't ask her for help on the homework or tell her that girls were supposed to major in English or Womyn's studies. And she'd not have it any other way. But while there was a lot about her that might surprise her current classmates, overall, their impression of her wasn't as far off the mark as that of just about everyone back in Cheyenne.

As they got back on the highway, Kristen said, "On a different note, if I might offer a piece of advice---you should try to make your voice a little higher. Guys don't like baritones."

Yvette stared at her roommate for a few moments, eyes wide. As a single child who'd mostly kept to herself in high school, keeping a fair bit of distance even from the few girls she'd considered friends, she was still adjusting to complicated rules governing interactions between women their age. Part of her knew that comments such as Kristen's weren't considered rude but constructive. But a different part of her kind of wanted to slit the girl's throat with a box cutter then step back and watch her slowly bleed to death. Or maybe-

Wow. Where had that come from?

Deep breath. Release. "Maybe Zach's not into bubbly blondes. With bleached hair."

Kristen flashed her a venomous look. Then smiled, laughed, and said, "You bitch."

Because self-deprecating humor was always the way to defuse such situations, particularly if targeting one's weight, Yvette then added, "Heck, if I'm lucky, he might even like women who couldn't have made the cheerleading team even if they wanted to because none of the uniforms were big enough to fit her."

Her roommate snorted. "Girl, those big boobs of yours are the only reason guys might talk to you after getting a good look at all your ink and chrome."

"I didn't mean my breasts," Yvette muttered to herself. How had her attempt to put herself down come across as highlighting one of Kristen's shortcomings? The girl might not be particularly well-endowed, but neither did she have reason to fear the scale. Unlike some girls riding in the front of that pickup truck.

What Yvette wouldn't give to see just two red numbers staring up at her. For that first digit to stay nice and dim. Unfortunately, the only way that was ever going to happen was if she switched the units to kilograms.

"I'll have you know," Kristen said, giving her right breast a squeeze through her pea coat, "that these little girls have served me well. Some guys aren't into suffocation."

In Yvette's experience, most actually were. The literal kind, anyway. They'd object at first. Maybe even offer some physical resistance. In porn, the guy was always closing his hand around her throat, and so naturally most young men thought it had to be that way. But Yvette always convinced them in the end that breath play was for everyone.

Of course, Kristen had meant something more metaphorical. She was trying to make Yvette feel ashamed of her breasts. And hadn't exactly failed at that.

The one aspect of her appearance that Yvette most often felt proud of was her chest. But the watermelons she had no choice but to carry around with her at all times could often be quite a burden. Either physically, like anytime she tried to get in the habit of going to the gym again, or because of the unwanted attention they brought.

In high school, Yvette had done her best to avoid girls like Kristen. Somehow, the two had been getting along reasonably well so far. She didn't want to spoil that. Not with all the horror stories she'd heard about roommates who couldn't get along.

"For the record, I dye my hair too," Yvette said.

She didn't. But everyone assumed she did. And she knew Kristen would believe her.

Kristen took her eyes off Curt's pickup, glancing sideways at the jet black sheets framing Yvette's pale face. "I wasn't gonna say it, but I figured. No one's hair is that black."

They shared an awkward smile before the task of keeping an appropriate distance between them and the other vehicle once more occupied Kristen's attention.

Yvette wondered if guys put half as much thought into managing their friendships. Somehow, she doubted it. Seemed like whenever they had problems with one another, all they had to do was hurl a few obscenities, maybe throw a couple of punches if things really got out of control, then share a few laughs over beer and it would all be forgotten.

When the silence grew uncomfortably long, she asked Kristen, "You think they're having a similar conversation?" Lest there be any doubt what she meant, she jerked her chin towards the Ford F-150 a little ways ahead of them on the otherwise empty highway. "Putting themselves down by way of paying each other compliments?"

"Dude. Bro. No way," Kristen said.

Yvette burst out laughing. She hadn't thought the other girl would notice that. Or think it anything worth mocking if she did.

"They probably are talking about your boobs, though. So we've got that in common."

"Probably," Yvette said with a snort.

"Jackasses," Kristen said, lightheartedly.

Yvette's reply was more sincere. "Seriously. Screw 'em."

Did the fact that they'd conjectured about the size of Zach's penis make her reaction a bit hypocritical? Sure. A little. But he could sit in class, taking careful notes, doing his best to keep track of all the notation on the screen, without knowing that all the girls around him were staring at his crotch. The world would never tell him that his most important attribute as a human being was the size of one particular body part. Some guys might have to live with the feelings of inadequacy that came from knowing their partners wished they were built differently, but the world at large would never judge them first and foremost by their anatomy. They could always compensate by making more money, or driving a nicer car, or being a genuinely nice person. Women didn't have that luxury.

"So remind me again, is this cabin going to have electricity?" she asked.

"Think so," her roommate replied. "Why, you planning on spending your time checking out what the geeks are talking about on Twitter?"

"Maybe," she said. "When I agreed not to go after Curt, I made no promises about keeping Zach busy." In other words, she hadn't agreed to much of anything, seeing as Curt did as much for her as bacteria samples did.

"Cuntbag," Kristen said, laughing.

Yvette shrugged. "Just sayin', you want yourself a dedicated and professional wing-woman, you've got the wrong fucking girl."

"Good to know," Kristen said, apparently thinking it a joke.

If Zach turned out to be a jerk, she was in for a rude awakening. Yvette would have no qualms about hiding out in her room, leaving an awkward third wheel around to muck things up for Kristen and Curt.

"Anyway, I wouldn't count on your phone getting reception," Kristen continued, "and there sure as shit won't be wifi. But electricity? Yeah. Think we're good on that front." She smiled broadly. "Don't worry, city girl. We ain't roughing it this weekend."

"We'll see," Yvette replied. "If Zach's lucky, things might get quite rough indeed."

"Oh, really?" her roommate asked with a laugh. "For you or for him?"

She made a point of looking out the window at the snowy plains.

"Probably should have guessed you were into that," the little blonde said.

Because, you know, girls with tattoos and piercings obviously liked pain. Duh.

Yvette knew she'd be a whole lot more justified in taking offense if she didn't have a taste for kink, but still. That was just one of the many things people thought they knew about her just because of her appearance, and she didn't fit all the stereotypes.

"It was a joke," Yvette said. "He'll be lucky if I let him kiss me."

"Ha!" When Yvette didn't react, Kristen then asked, "Wait, really? You a prude?"

Yvette kept her eyes on the plains rolling away beneath the clear blue sky, just now beginning to give way to the foothills of the Rockies. She was not at home in the more remote parts of Wyoming. Not the way her roommate, and so much of the rest of the student body, was. But she definitely recognized their beauty. Something about the majestic purple peaks looming in the distance in particular really spoke to her.

Was it wrong that she wished she wasn't driving out the mountains with a girl she sometimes thought of as a friend and sometimes a total stranger? That she wouldn't have minded at all if there'd be no guys there? Just her, her mom, and her dad?

Yes, the forecast was cloudy with a chance of handcuffs, but that was mostly because it would only take one or two drinks to bring the other Yvette out. Not because the good was all that excited about putting herself into such a situation.

"Nah," Yvette said at last. "May not be as slutty as you, but I know how to have fun."

"So I'm a slut now, am I?" Kristen asked with feigned indignation. "Just because I hooked up our first night in the dorm."

"With two different guys," Yvette said. "And let's not forget all the ones since then."

"Oh, honey, that ship has sailed. Couldn't even tell you half their names."

Yvette giggled.

#

The snow got heavier and heavier. By the time they reached their exit, Yvette was ready to bail and hit the first hotel they crossed. But Kristen was steadfast.

Driving up the mountain was no fun either. They slipped off the road and got stuck in the snow at one point, requiring the boys to come help them. Which they were all too happy to do, as it made them look all manly and helpful and capable of producing babies. Or something. Yvette might even have been impressed, if they didn't make it so obvious that they thought their odds of getting laid went up astronomically as a result. Like she and Kristen owed them sex for being somewhat decent human beings.

She became even more convinced that she'd made a big mistake agreeing to this weekend when they reached the cabin.

It wasn't the cabin itself. In fact, that much made a rather good impression. Part of her had feared a rundown old thing with rotting wood, a sagging roof, and cracked windows. What she found instead was a marvel of modern architecture. It was huge, brightly lit, and perched a few inches up off the snow on a concrete plinth. The freshly cut wood gleamed in the fading sunlight, the cedar planks still a light shade of brown that verged on yellow rather than a darker one more reminiscent of ashes. The steeply sloped roof didn't look prone to caving in, no matter how much snow fell overnight. And the second floor had floor-to-ceiling windows, meaning they'd have a positively stunning view of the valley below.

But that was part of the problem.

When they'd described it to her as a "mountainside" cabin, she hadn't pictured a structure clinging to the rocky mound like Spiderman would a dang skyscraper. Granted, she didn't think the thing would suddenly break free of its foundation and tumble down the mountain or anything, but its position sure was precarious. Yvette wasn't sure if she'd be able to take advantage of the breathtaking view or if she'd need to draw the blinds shut in order to avoid a crippling bout of vertigo.

"You okay?" Kristen asked as she put the truck in park.

"Yeah," Yvette said, though even she didn't think the way she said it sounded convincing.

"You sure?"

"Wouldn't you feel better knowing that if you fell out the window, you'd only have ten feet to go before you hit the snow, instead of, I don't know, fifty thousand?"

The blonde laughed. "We're not actually on a cliff." Which was true. They weren't. Just a frighteningly sharp incline that wasn't quite vertical.

Kristen slapped Yvette's thigh before taking the key out of the ignition. "And there's no way we're more than twelve thousand feet up."

"Oh, well, in that case."

"The time to tell me you're afraid of heights was hours and hours ago. Maybe days."

"I'm not," Yvette said. "I love the mountains, actually. Not much of a skier, but I always wished I was." She covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm freaking out. Probably isn't even the height. I just...you ever feel like something terribly bad is going to happen, and have absolutely no idea why or what?"

"Um...no. Not really."

"Forget it," Yvette said, grabbing her stuff and pushing the passenger door open.

Zach was standing behind Curt's truck, unloading a case of beer. A whole freaking case. For two nights. Did they think this was a frat party? If they expected anything to happen, wouldn't they need to be at least a tiny bit sober?

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Hey. Need help carrying anything?"

Yvette snickered, in a very ladylike fashion. "Thanks, He-Man. But my tiny little girl muscles can handle a backpack and a hand bag. Besides, I wouldn't want you to have to make a second trip for the rest of the brewskis."

For a moment, he actually looked confused as to whether there was a second case in there. She left him staring into what sure seemed to be an empty truck bed, trudging past with soft crunches as her boots plunged through the snow.

"Pretty fucking sweet, huh?" Curt called to her from the kitchen as soon as she walked through the front door.

It actually was.

Everything was light brown or white, not at all like the dark interiors one always saw in movies. There were no mounted deer busts or stuffed bears. The fireplace was white marble, rather than brick or cobblestone. The white leather sofas looked comfortable, the brown rugs soft and warm, and everything was spaced far enough apart to make the place seem larger than it was. There was something to be said for cozy, she supposed, but she wasn't at all sure yet that she was looking to get that intimate with any of these people.


Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 01



"My uncle keeps the fridge fully stocked, too," he said, kicking the door of the appliance. "Didn't even think to ask about that."

"You mean we'd have had nothing to eat if he hadn't?" she asked, blinking meaningfully at him. Not that he seemed like the sort to pick up on subtle body language.

Curt shrugged, laughed awkwardly, and scratched the back of his head. "Not that long a drive down to the nearest mini-mart."

For goodness' sake.

"Plenty of beer, though!" he said.

As if to underscore the point, Zach walked in behind her at that point, carrying the Coors Light. Kristen followed behind him, trailing a rolling suitcase behind her.

"Fuck yeah!" Zach said. "And they're already cold, after that drive."

"Toss me one then, bro," Curt said.

And, of course, Zach did. Because the time it would have taken him to put the cardboard box down on the counter first would have been unbearable. The two of them had swallowed a few mouthfuls each before they set the first glass bottle inside the vegetable bin.

"I'm gonna go get changed," Kristen announced, giving Yvette a meaningful look.

"Um, right. And I've got to, ah, powder my nose."

The guys paid them no mind. Why would they? There was beer there, and they'd hardly drank any of it. By time-honored tradition, the talking to girls part of the ritual came later.

So she followed Kristen down the hall and up the stairs without another word.

"You take this one," Kristen said, pointing to the nearest bedroom. "I'll take the other."

The other. "You said we'd all have our own room," Yvette said.

Kristen shrugged. "Must've misheard him."

Right. "Well, I hope he's not above sleeping on a couch."

"I wanna show you something," Kristen said with a gleam in her eye. Yvette could almost think the girl was going to make a pass at her. "Go put your stuff down first though."

The promise of something worth hiding from the boys did not keep her from taking a moment to inspect the room. It was every bit as gorgeous as the rest of the cabin. The color scheme was the same as in every other room, but there was a red lamp on the nightstand that really popped. And the scented candles sitting atop the dresser filled the air with a pleasant smell even though they weren't burning. Butter cream, perhaps. The bed was huge. Whether she chose to share it with Zach or not, she'd have plenty of room.

Looking out the window was a little disorienting, but not as bad as she'd feared. At least not when she stood this close to the doorway, far away from the glass. When the sun went down, she'd have to make a point of finding herself exactly where she stood now.

Yvette put her bags down, shrugged her jacket off, tossed it on the bed, and then sat down beside it to pull her boots off. She was tempted to unpack, maybe even check her makeup, but Kristen had looked about ready to pee her pants as it was. So after quickly adjusting her bra where no one could see, which she'd been waiting to do for hours, she hit the light, closed the door, and padded down the hall to the other bedroom.

"First," Kristen said, more or less the instant she walked in, "eh? Eh?" The bottle in her hands hadn't even come into view before she started prompting Yvette for a reaction.

"Um, cool?" Yvette said. "What is it?"

"Polish vodka. Over ninety-five percent alcohol. This shit'll fuck you up."

Great. "Where'd you get it?" she asked. "That's not legal in the US, is it?"

"Not most places," Kristen said, still effusive. "My brother picked up a few bottles over the summer. I've been holding onto this ever since."

"Hmm."

Apparently, it finally dawned on her that Yvette did not share her enthusiasm. She looked crestfallen. "Fine. You don't get any. Too expensive to waste on non-believers."

"Fine with me."

"You don't drink either?"

Either? Did she think Yvette a virgin? Because of the conversation they had in the car earlier? Geez, if she only knew. She'd put a few figurative notches in her lipstick case since the start of the semester too. She'd just been more discrete about it than Kristen.

Not least because one of her conquests had been her chem professor.

"Just not sure how drunk I want tonight," Yvette replied. "If you'd busted that out last Wednesday, after my Calc exam, I'd have been all about it."

"So we just need to make you do some math, then you do shots."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to take advantage of me after I pass out. Those two, I'm not so sure about," she said, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen. She thought. "You wanna see me good and drunk? Let's have a girls' night in sometime."

"Whatever," Kristen said. "What I really wanted to show you is this," she said, pulling out something silky and lacy and slutty and gorgeous. A romper, maybe? Or a teddy? She didn't really know her lingerie too well. What girl their age did? "He's going to take one look at me and die of a heart attack."

"You know what they say," Yvette replied casually. "No sex like that with a fresh corpse. Rigor mortis is better than Viagara."

"They say that?" Kristen asked. "Eww."

Yvette had no idea where she'd heard that. If she ever had. It had just come out. She blamed the other Yvette. The one who probably would handcuff Zach to the bed at some point and ride him so hard he'd be lucky if she didn't break it off.

"On second thought, maybe I'll take the couch," Yvette said, content to leave the whole necrophilia thing lying there forgotten in the snow. "You tend to get pretty loud."

"Do not!" Kristen protested. "You bitch." Then, after all but three seconds of Yvette staring flatly at her, she wilted. "Okay, I totally do. But you slept through it that one time."

"Right. That one time."

"Granted, he wasn't very good," Kristen added, as if she hadn't heard Yvette.

"So," Yvette said. "You gonna put that on now?"

"What? No! You gotta build up to these things."

"Well, you said you were going to get changed."

Kristen dropped the lingerie back into the suitcase, scooped up a case of breath mints, and let fly. It didn't come anywhere near Yvette. "Not into that," she said. And with that, she slipped her wool sweater up over her head.

Yvette turned away. It wasn't like she'd never seen the girl in nothing but a bra, which might or might not be where this was going, but she still hadn't quite gotten comfortable with her roommate's attitudes towards undressing in front of one another. When it was finally safe to look, she found Kristen wearing a tight long-sleeved T and a cute cardigan. The ensemble was relatively warm and incredibly flattering. Yvette tried not to envy her friend's narrow waist and toned abs, but failed.

Sometimes, she wished she could snap her fingers and be thinner and prettier. She hated knowing that if she could pick one supernatural power, she wouldn't go for telepathy or invisibility or the ability to fly or any of the more obvious answers, but rather the power to change her appearance. Nonetheless, that absolutely was what she'd choose.

Kristen looked her over. "You staying in that?"

"What's wrong with this?" she asked.

Okay, maybe she had a few too many layers on. But it was still cold inside the cabin. Maybe after they got a fire going, she might worry about emphasizing her curves.

Her friend shrugged. "Nothing. You look nice."

Translation---you look like a fat pig, but at least you match.

#

"Look what we found," Curt said as the girls walked into the living room.

"C'mon, put it away," Zach muttered under his breath.

At least, Yvette thought he did. There was a look of exasperation mixed with resignation on his face. Like he didn't approve of his friend's behavior, but knew better than to make any real effort to alter it because he'd failed so many times in the past.

That was interesting. There might be hope for him yet.

A different girl might have been turned off by Zach's defeatist attitude, but she found it very relatable. No one seemed to understand how draining that sort of thing was for introverts like her. And, it would seem, Zach. How simply being around people, even those they liked, could be hard work. She'd no sooner hold it against Zach that he offered a weak objection than she would judge someone who refused to stand in front of a runaway train.

"What's that?" Kristen asked, slipping past Yvette. She carried her bottle of vodka casually in one hand. "Really? A board game? I thought maybe we'd play something fun."

Yvette had been so busy reappraising Zach that she hadn't even bothered to look where Curt had pointed. Laid out atop the white coffee table was a board made to look like it was covered with blood splatters, a pair of black dice, and a deck of cards with skulls and crossbones patterned on the backs. There was a DVD case sitting by the box that looked like it might somehow be part of the game.

The rush of excitement that she felt was entirely normal. A byproduct of her wish that she was there with her parents, board game aficionados both, instead of a bunch of hormonal youths who were more interested in killing brain cells than getting some mileage out of them. Wasn't yet another sign that she was excessively morbid or anything. And any skinny little blondes who thought otherwise could go suck a duck.

Besides, the game was obviously going to be really cheesy. Way too over the top to take seriously. If she laughed her way through it, she wouldn't look as weird as she had when she'd reacted the same way to one of the final Saw flick back in high school.

"And by `fun' you mean...?" Curt said with a grin.

Smooth, Cassanova. Real smooth.

"I dunno. Like a drinking game?" Kristen said with feigned innocence. As if anyone didn't think she meant strip poker. Or Truth or Dare. Or some other juvenile shit that ought to be banned from college campuses the world over. "I brought reinforcements," she added, placing the bottle down with the label facing Curt. Coincidentally, of course.

Yvette quietly took a seat on the couch behind Zach, who sat on the floor reading the instructions for the game with a scowl on his face.

"Whoa. One-ninety-two proof? Seriously?" he looked up at Kristen with newfound respect. No, not respect. Men like Curt weren't capable of that. More like surprise that she might be just a little bit more than an object for his sexual gratification, seeing as she was capable of bringing him euphoria through another channel. "You fucking rule."

"Got any shot glasses?" Kristen asked, beaming proudly.

Look how cool I am, I got some super illegal contraband. Bask in my glory.

Yvette poked one of Zach's broad shoulders, and maybe sorta took note of how hard the body she felt underneath appeared to be. "So how's this game work?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Trying to figure that out."

"Lemme check," Curt told Kristen, which was apparently an invitation. The two blondes headed into the kitchen together, raising the average IQ in the living room by a few points.

"Looks like we take turns rolling the dice and advancing-"

"I'm familiar with the genre," Yvette cut in, smiling. "Any special wrinkles?"

Zach frowned. Or tried to. The expression quickly turned into a self-deprecating chuckle that kinda made Yvette want to jump his bones right then and there. Or at least get some of that sexy beard of his between her lips. He seemed like he might be okay with that.

"Right," he said. "Doesn't look like it. The space you land on determines whether you draw a card or not. And that tells us what scene to play from the DVD."

"And that's it?" she asked.

Candy Land had more room for strategy than that.

"Think so. There's a whole bunch of other sections, but they all seem to be referring to optional rules. Might be best to keep it simple the first time, huh?"

"With those two? Definitely."

"Yeah, well. We love 'em anyway," he said with a grin, earning him a few more brownie points. Or perhaps get-me-out-of-my-panties points.

Was it actually possible for teeth to be that white and sparkling? Outside of TV commercials? Dang. That just wasn't fair. How was she supposed to keep Bad Yvette in her cage when he went around flashing those beauties at her?

If he wasn't so damn hot, she wouldn't find every little thing he said, every facial expression he made, so charming. There was enough blood flowing to her prefrontal cortex for her to realize this. But he was. And the part of her she was finding harder and harder to control with each passing month was keenly aware of it.

There'd been a time when Yvette was a good girl. Quiet, well-behaved, and every bit as nerdy as her friends thought. Before the black nail polish, numerous piercings in all the obvious places, and flowery tattoo spread across her upper chest, all of which she'd adopted by way of camouflage. Or so she'd told herself. Her first kiss had come at sixteen, and she'd lost her virginity two years later, the night of her senior prom. But that had awakened something inside her. And whatever it was, it was getting stronger.

At first, she hadn't gone too crazy. There were a lot of guys, some of whom she didn't know, but she was learning now that most girls her age could say the same. But as summer had gone on, she'd gotten increasingly raunchy. Just before going away to school, she'd attended her father's company picnic, and ended up letting his boss and five of his coworkers run a train on her. She still wasn't sure whether he knew about it or not, since he was the type of man who'd sooner pretend not to see something than talk about it.

She still hated heavy metal. Her iTunes library was full of dance and pop music, and the plays column showed embarrassing numbers next too every One Direction song. But it was getting harder and harder to tell where Yvette ended and the disguise began.

"How'd you meet Curt, anyway?" she asked. "You said something about a former roommate earlier. The two of you didn't live together last year?"

"No, just since August," he admitted as he planted his butt on the table so he could sit facing her. When he looked directly at her, she saw how breathtaking his eyes really were. He was like Alexis Bledel's character in that crappy Sin City movie. His eyes were the only source of color in a world of black and white. Except they weren't nearly as light shade as miss Gilmore's. They were bright and intense and colorful and reminded her of glaciers. "We took a History class together. I wrote a paper for him."

Yvette smacked him. "You did not!"

He shrugged. "There ware worse ways to earn a hundred bucks."

"But not many that'll get you kicked out of school quicker."

"Only if someone tells on me," he said, staring hard at her with affected menace.

Yvette giggled as she held up her hands in protest. "Not me."

"Anyway," he said, removing the hoodie that was fast becoming unnecessary thanks to the roaring fire off to his left. The torso he thereby revealed was two or three different kinds of perfect. A thick tuft of chest hair stuck up through the collar of his T-shirt and the size of his hard muscles was apparent. As she'd figured, they were big but not too big. He was just the size Yvette liked. "He did better on it than even I expected. Better than I did on the one I turned in for myself, in fact."

"Serves you right," Yvette said, smiling.

She was really starting to feel it. Her pussy was throbbing, her cheeks felt flushed, and there were butterflies in her stomach. It was too bad she'd gone with her usual pink lipstick instead of one of the darker shades she occasionally busted out. If he was observant, he'd probably notice the rush of blood that a good black or even dark purple would have hid. of course, her pupils were probably super dilated, so it might not have mattered anyway, but most guys had a hard time looking a girl in the eye while speaking to her.

Why was his story having that effect on her, anyway?

Yes, it told her that he was intelligent, which was hugely important to her. Well, it probably meant that. It was only so hard to do well in fluff classes like history. But whatever. The more important point should have been that it also told her that Zach had no qualms about intellectual dishonesty. Which should have bothered her a lot. Not made her wonder about what other rules he was into breaking.

He shrugged. "Probably. Point is, he felt bad, like he'd somehow cheated me because he'd gotten more value out of the exchange than he'd bargained for. Which is weird. I can't imagine going back to the dealer and insisting on paying more for the car they sold me after it ended up needing little routine maintenance after five years."

"Me either."

"That's basically what he tried to do, though. And when I wouldn't take any more of his money, he started inviting me to parties that guys normally can't get into."

Yvette snorted. "Mmm. Pity. The basis of every lasting friendship."

Zach frowned and scratched at his beard nervously. "Yeah. I'm not proud of the fact that I went. But I didn't really have any friends at that point, so...," he shrugged. "Some of us have to take what we can get."

"Awwww," she said. Fortunately, it came out sounding sarcastic. Which was way more appropriate than what she'd actually meant. She really did not know him well enough to say she'd be glad to take him home and ask her parents if she could keep him. Which hadn't very nearly come out of her mouth or anything. "Figured that only happened us freaks."

"Freaks?" he asked, feigning his surprise so well she nearly kissed him.

"You may have noticed I don't look like most people," she said, pointing first at the ring in her left eyebrow then the diamond stud in her right nostril, followed by the pyramid extending from her lower lip. She almost continued on down to the tattoo her V-neck partially revealed, but then realized that might seem like she was calling attention to her cleavage. And though she wouldn't have minded knowing that he appreciated what she had to offer, Good Yvette was sufficiently in control for her to realize the lack of subtlety that would display. "Most guys avoid me like the plague. And those who don't assume I'm just dying to talk about shitty music. Or worse, vampire porn."

He chuckled. "Guys suck."

"They do," she agreed. "As do vampires." That made her blush. "Okay, that was a terrible pun. And thoroughly unintended. But you get my point."

"Don't you mean points? Plural?" he asked, tapping his two canines.

Yvette groaned.

"Okay, so who's doing the first body shot?" Curt bellowed as he and Kristen returned.

"Speaking of how guys suck," Zach whispered, making her pussy throb even worse.

"Maybe after the game," Yvette said aloud, hoping she heaped on enough sarcasm.

"Pffft," Kristen said. "Let me at least make you a mixed drink."

She stared at her friend for a time, but saw that she was determined enough to make a stink if Yvette refused. "A weak one." She ten rushed to add, "And only if there's anything decent to mix it with. You know I don't drink pop."

"There's juice."

"Cranberry?" she asked.

One of the older guys she'd hooked up with over the summer had taken her to a bar. A real one, where they ID college kids. Unless, of course, they happen to be with older guys. He'd ordered her a vodka-cranberry, and it hadn't been too bad.

"What's this look like, the Hilton?" Kristen said. "Try orange."

"Fine," Yvette said.

Curt placed a fresh beer down beside Zach, along with a tall shot glass. One with five lines on it, market Freshman, Sophomore, etc, right up through Super Senior.

"Don't," she told the guy she barely knew, as if they were close enough friends for it make sense for her to try to watch out for him. The moment the word left her mouth, she slapped a hand over her face. "Sorry. Do what you want."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 01



"You sure? He has your permission?" Curt asked.

If asked which she wanted more, to kiss Zach or punch Curt in the mouth, Yvette would have had a hard time deciding. She settled for wishing cancer upon him with her eyes.

"Sophomore'll do it for me," Zach said. "Maybe in a couple years I'll get up to the top."

"Oh, we're being literal are we?" his friend asked. "Fine. I'm only pouring up to junior. But if you don't keep pace with me-"

"You'll question my testicular fortitude, I'll shrug it off, and life will go on?"

Curt frowned. "Well, yeah, pretty much. Sounds less fun when you put it like that."

Yvette resisted the urge to pat Zach's thigh. But it wasn't easy.

Kristen returned with a red Solo cup. After handing it to Yvette, she stroked Curt's back the way a girl who'd hung out with him more than once or twice might have. "So. We playing this silly Gross the Girls out game or what?"

"It's called Choose How You Die," Zach corrected.

"Of course it is," Kristen replied.

A chill went down Yvette's spine that had nothing to do with the ice cubes her friend had put in her drink. They were deep in the woods rather than high in the mountains, surrounded by dead leaves instead of cold snow, but she suddenly had the sense that they starring in a remake of Cabin in the Woods.

Geez, how had that not occurred to her before? She must've seen that movie four or five times in the past year. It was one of her all time favorites.

They had their Virgin. Not really, but as Sigourney Weaver had said in the movie, they work with what they've got. All the ritual really called for was a shy girl who wouldn't show her boobs to the audience the first time she found herself alone in a room with a guy.

And they had their Whore. Kristen might take exception to that characterization, but then again, she might not. Especially after a few shots of her Polish vodka.

Curt couldn't have been more of a Jock. Was that just because he'd been breathing chemicals? Used hair dye that had been tampered with? Smoked some weed that had been laced with other mind-altering agents? Or was he naturally like that?

Zach could just as easily be the Scholar as the Fool. Could one person fill both roles?

Without realizing it, she started laughing awkwardly to herself.

"What?" Zach asked.

"You have to forgive her. She's a little slow," Kristen said. "Probably just now picking up on our discussion of what the game's called."

Even Curt looked at her incredulously.

"Have any of you seen Cabin in the Woods?"

Zach started laughing right away. "You're totally right," he said.

Curt snorted. "Okay, maybe this'll be fun after all." He tossed back his three fingers' worth of vodka and shook his head about violently, following that up with a fist on his chest.

Yvette couldn't stop herself from saying, "Yes, yes, we all get it. You're a manly man."

Zach laughed as he picked up his own, slightly less full shot glass. "That mean if I act like this doesn't burn, you're not gonna make fun of me?"

"Don't let that stop you," Kristen said, running a slim finger around the rim of hers. "She'll find a reason either way." Then turning to Yvette, she said, "I want to know what you were laughing about, though. Tell me you weren't trying to say that this feels like the start of some creepy movie? Because I already don't want to play."

"Too bad," Zach said after knocking back his drink.

He did indeed hide his reaction, but Yvette chose to spare him the ridicule he probably deserved. Mostly because he was handsome, had a great body, and seemed like he might be closer to housebroken than his friend. She wished those things weren't having much of an effect on her, but they were. Letting him get away with pretending the vodka hadn't burned his throat was the least of what she'd put up with as a result. No sense denying it.

"Three votes to one," Zach continued. "You lose." And with that, he got up off the coffee table and busied himself setting up the DVD.

"Eaves," Kristen said. She hardly ever called Yvette by that stupid nickname. Was she really freaked out? By a silly game?

Yvette shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. Were they alone, and if she knew her roommate better, she might have given the girl a quick hug and assured her everything would be okay. Instead, she told her, "So long as a third guy doesn't walk-"

A knock came at the door.

No one moved. Save for a few startled jumps that no one wished to acknowledge.

"Well? You gonna get that?" Zach asked Curt after an awkward moment of silence.

Curt gave his friend the middle finger before heading for the door.

Yvette tried not to snicker too loudly when his haste got the better of him and he nearly lost his balance. That sort of thing happened to her all the time, but she was no athlete.

He paused at the door, cleared his throat, and opened it smoothly. All grace. Because nothing had happened to undercut the image he was now trying to project. No, sir.

"Sorry to bother you," a voice from the other side of the doorway began.

Yvette got up and took a few steps towards the kitchen, eager to get a look at the newcomer. Who she absolutely did not expect to be carrying a bloody axe or anything. Because that would be ridiculous. She certainly didn't feel a sense of relief when she saw a poor guy having a hard time fighting back the cold, hands on his arms and warm breath misting in front of his face as he huffed and puffed. The killer who showed up in the middle of the night to hack the teens all to pieces never shivered.

Plus, killers didn't show up in the middle of the night and hack groups of teens all to pieces. Not in real life. She was just letting Kristen get to her.

Or maybe Bad Yvette.

Who sort of hoped the guy on the porch wasn't as harmless as he looked.

"This is so embarrassing," the man said. "I was on my way up to check to see if the power's working in my cabin when my snowmobile crapped out on me." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Had to leave it in the snow, about a mile back."

"Shit man," Curt said. "That sucks."

That sucks? Talk about eloquence. And empathy. "You wanna come in?" Yvette called.

She almost thought Curt would toss a glare her way. Which wouldn't have been entirely out of line, she supposed. It wasn't her cabin to be inviting people into, after all. But thankfully, he didn't. Just laughed awkwardly at himself, scratched the back of his head, and told the poor guy freezing to death before their very eyes, "Yeah. What she said."

"Thanks," the newcomer said. He stomped the snow off his boots and clothes as best he could before stepping inside, which struck Yvette as pretty thoughtful considering how frostbitten he must have been. "Just need to warm up a bit before I make the trek up to my place. It's a good ways up the mountain from yours."

"Huh," Curt said. "Thought this was the last one."

"Nope."

"Do we have coffee?" Yvette asked Curt. "Hot chocolate?"

"Water would be fine," the man said. "And a seat by the fire."

To his credit, Curt didn't even need help fetching a glass of water. It was almost like he had some idea of what hospitality looked like. Not much, perhaps, but a little.

Yvette introduced herself and the others as she offered to take the man's coat.

"Lance," he replied as he slipped free of it.

That was when Yvette started to notice how attractive he was. And wondering if he might be interested in warming up another way. Bad Yvette's disappointment that he was more wounded rabbit than rabid wolf faded instantly. He had broad shoulders and a strong back, yet a surprisingly narrow waist. That gave his torso a dramatic V-shape. Though Yvette didn't like her guys to be too big, she needed more than a little meat on the bones, and Lance definitely had that covered. More so than Zach, if she had to guess. The stubble on his face was really sexy, though it had a little ways to go before it would become a full-fledged beard. And the tuft of hair poking up out of his collar bespoke a veritable pelt waiting for some lucky lady to run her fingers through. On top of all that, he had black hair and blue eyes. Her favorite combination. Because of course he did. She'd apparently done something recently to please the powers that be, and was being rewarded handsomely.

Very, very handsomely.

To judge by the lines in his face and the slight hints of silver at the corners of his chin and around his temples, Lance was a good deal older than them. In his mid-thirties at least. Perhaps even his early forties. Which, if anything, was too young, at least so far as Bad Yvette was concerned. When she was in control of herself, Yvette never went for men all that much older than her. But, of late, she often didn't call her own shots.

He was a little taller than Zach. Inching towards too tall. But that as close to a flaw as she could identify. And it was something she could definitely work with.

She found it hard to breathe as she accepted his parka and found a place for it on the coat rack by the fire.

"Don't stop on my account," Lance said after he'd pulled a chair up to the fireplace. He sat with his back more or less to the group, open palms facing the flames, but the cold blue eyes cast over his shoulder had settled on the board game they'd been about to play. "I'll be out of your hair shortly. Promise."

"We haven't even started yet," Zach said. "You want in?"

Kristen frowned at him. "Maybe we should just put the game away?"

No one paid her any mind. Least of Yvette, who was pleased to see that Zach didn't need any prompting to show their guest a little kindness.

The tingling between her legs grew more intense, and not because of Bad Yvette. If she ended up in bed with both men at once, she might have to blame the darker side of her. But if something happened with Zach, and only Zach, she might not even feel guilty about it.

"Would I have to abandon the warmth of this nice fire?" Lance asked, rubbing his hands together as tongues of flame danced seductively before him like women at a strip club.

"You could sit on his lap," Curt said to Yvette. "You know, to keep him warm."

"Jerk," she snapped. Mostly because she ought to. And because he was. But she'd heard worse ideas in her life. To put it mildly. "Why don't you let him sit in your lap? Or better yet, you and your butt-buddy here can free up a space on the couch."

"Hey!" Zach said, with a "What did I ever do to you?" look on his face.

She offered him a half shrug. If he was as promising as she wanted to think, he'd understand that it wasn't about him. He'd just gotten caught in the crossfire. Made a convenient stone to throw at his jackass of a friend.

He rolled his eyes, snorted, and turned his attention back to the DVD.

Lance laughed. "Think I'll just watch." He looked at the screen. "Choose How You Die? Can't say I've ever heard of that game."

"Neither have we," Zach said. "We're all newbs."

"Newbs?" Lance asked.

"You have to forgive him. Sometimes he lapses into his native geekspeak, forgetting the rest of us are normal," Curt said. "Sure you don't want anything harder?" he then asked, pointing at the water Lance had mostly gulped down. "Can't promise I'm getting up again once we start." That earned him a glare from Yvette, but he didn't seem to notice. "We've got cheap beer and fancy vodka."

Lance laughed. "Maybe later."

So while their sort-of-neighbor watched, they started to play the game. Yvette soon decided it was a good thing that Zach had chosen to ignore all the optional rules. The basic version might be ridiculously straightforward, but she was having a hard time dividing her attention between it and the sexy beast by the fire. Only vaguely aware that some bad acting, worse dialogue, and cheap special effects were flashing across the screen, offering up some ripe opportunities for mockery, she lost herself in a rather explicit fantasy. One involving both Lance and Zach.

She imagined that the older man was the type to take charge, the younger one sweeter and more attentive. She'd let the one warm her up, his tongue coaxing her into letting go of all her inhibitions and insecurities. Then, once the flames were roaring inside her, the other would use her body for his pleasure, and she'd let herself get taken along for the ride no matter where it went. If she was lucky, it head straight into downtown Kink City.

What were the odds that a bit of rope was lying around the cabin somewhere? There had to at least be a roll of duct tape somewhere, didn't there?

"Yvette?" Fingers snapped in front of her face. "Yvette!"

"What?" she asked.

"It's your turn."

"Oh, right," she said, blushing. "Umm, sorry. Kinda zoned out."

"We noticed," Kristen said.

Zach gave her a patient smile as he handed the dice to her.

"How much you put in her drink?" Curt asked Kristen, who shrugged in reply.

Lance regarded her quietly out of the corner of his eyes. No expression showed on his handsome face, but she thought she felt something stir inside him. Something hot and wild and more than a little hungry. Except that was ridiculous. She couldn't feel a guy's arousal from across the room. Let alone tell what sort of action she was in for once she got him out of his clothes. Or, if she could, it wasn't because she was picking up on some unseen vibe or anything like that. Just body language. Same as any girl could, if she was astute. If it sometimes felt like something more was going on, like she could tell things about a guy that she had no way of knowing, well, that was just an overactive imagination at work.

Probably.

Yvette shook the black cubes in her hand, keenly aware that the motion she used would serve just as well for certain other tasks. If the guy sitting right beside her took any notice, he hid it well. Which was probably for the best. But the part of her that imagined she'd sensed hunger inside Lance a moment ago now thought it detected a calmer, more restrained, reaction in Zach. If the older man was ready to set her body on fire, the younger one would be more than happy to soothe her burns. One was preparing to pounce on her, the other would need to be lured out of his cave. But in the end, they'd both be hers. If she so desired.

A chill ran down her spine as she tossed the dice.

"Pfft," she said when they stopped spinning. "Three."

"Huh. Usually doesn't take you long to go all the way," Kristen said with a smug look on her face. "Looking to go slow for a change?"

"Bitch," Yvette said. "You're one to talk."

"How long'd you say your uncle has had this place?" Lance asked Curt, showing less interest in the exchange and its less than subtle implications than Yvette would have liked.

"Um...not sure," Curt said. "Why?"

"No reason. Just didn't realize anyone had finally bought the place."

"No, no, stop," Kristen said, turning to him and covering her ears. "This place has got some horrible, bloody history, hasn't it? Well, I don't want to hear about it."

Yvette's hand came to rest atop the deck of cards. "Wait, does it?" For a moment, her desperate need to feel a few too many hands grabbing at her was forgotten. Bad Yvette was still whooping and cheering, but for a different reason now. "Some guy brutally murder his wife and kids here or something?"

"You would find that exciting," Kristen said.

Zach cocked an eyebrow at her. Did he find her morbid curiosity off-putting? If so, she couldn't really blame him. But she couldn't help thinking she'd inadvertently piqued his interest. And that did more than pique hers.

Lance shrugged. "Not likely."

Curt chuckled as he poured himself another oversized shot of vodka. "Not likely, huh?" He turned to Kristen. "Don't worry. We're about to hear a campfire tale. Nothing more."

Though he was undoubtedly right, Yvette felt a grin spread across her face. The air seemed to hum with danger, and that was just fine by her. One way or another, she was going to get herself into trouble tonight. Probably just the fun kind, but who could tell?

"Probably so," the older man said with a good-natured laugh. Nimble fingers unbuttoned a plaid button-down as he talked, which didn't distract Yvette in the least. The tank top he wore beneath fit so snugly it might as well have been plastered on. And the body to which it clung so tightly was every bit as impressive as she'd guessed. And then some. "For as long as I can remember, everyone's said that this place was cursed. But the fact that no one can agree on what terrible thing happened here makes it a bit harder to take any of them seriously." He pulled his chair closer to the coffee table. "My favorite version, for what it's worth, is the one about the moose-zombies."

"Aren't enough stories about undead animals, if you ask me," Yvette said before she finally turned her card over. Revealing, quite naturally, the rotting corpse of a moose.

It lumbered through bloody snow, half-frozen entrails dangling beneath it and glowing red eyes staring out at them from the cheap plastic. Because of course it did. How could any other fate have awaited her at that point?

"That is too fucking creepy," Kristen said.

"Play the scene," Yvette told Zach, who wielded the remote, the words sounding distant to her own ears. She had no idea what was happening, but she liked it. Even though she knew her roommate's reaction was the more appropriate one.

The brief clip of shambling animal corpses laying siege to a cabin eerily similar to theirs, if a bit older and more rundown, drew more than a few laughs. The hapless souls gathered inside, five reasonably attractive twenty-somethings of course, screamed in horror as they were trampled, clubbed with antlers, and eaten alive. The coincidence should have made a bigger impression on them, perhaps, but the scene was so poorly produced that no one could take it seriously. No one but Kristen, that was.

"Not quite how I pictured it, but yeah, that's the basic idea," Lance said, smiling. "Where'd you guys find this game?"

"In the closet," Curt said with a shrug.

"Guys, something's not right," Kristen said, folding in on herself as best she could. "Now that I think about it, the previous scene right was set in the very room I put my stuff in." She shuddered. "Everything looked different, but the view out the window was exactly the same. I'm sure of it." When no one reacted, she looked at them aghast. "How can I be the only one who's not okay with this?"

"Doesn't mean any of this actually happened," Yvette said. "A couple of film majors from U-Dub could do better if we gave 'em a couple hundred bucks."

"Seriously," Zach said. "I've seen a lot of bad horror, but never anything as laughable as this. Not even from the straight-to-DVD stuff you can't find anywhere but on Netflix."

"You two are a couple of dorks," Curt said, looking from Yvette to Zach. Had he caught the way her eyes lit up as his friend's comment? Her reaction would have been hard to miss, but the big jock seemed exactly the sort to overlook such things. "Never would've thought you'd meet a girl as weird and pathetic as you."

Kristen smacked his arm reproachfully. Then she gave the TV screen an uneasy look and poured herself another stiff drink. She didn't look any happier about the images it had just shown, but she was apparently prepared to keep the thought to herself.

Zach picked up the dice and gave them a good, double-fisted shake before tossing them across the table. "Game isn't gonna last that much longer, anyway," he told Kristen as he counted out ten spaces. "Not at this rate."

"Might have to try some of the optional rules next," Yvette suggested.

"Oh, no," Kristen said. "Once is enough."

Curt put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight. "When the mutant killer woodchucks come for us, I'll protect you. Promise."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 02



"...been part of a threesome," Curt said, looking at Kristen.

The little blonde drank, of course. If she didn't, Yvette would have called her out on it. The moment she reached for her shot glass, Curt muttered "Nice" to himself in a way that wasn't at all sleazy or predictable or anything like that. As if that meant he was going to get to sleep with two girls at the same time that very night. If he thought Yvette was going to let him touch her with a ten-foot stick, he was sorely mistaken.

For that reason as much as any other, she considered cheating. Curt had no need to know that she'd checked ventured down that path herself. He was too likely to draw all the wrong conclusions from her tipping her glass back. Especially since none of her experiences with group sex had involved other women.

But she decided things would get more interesting if she was honest. So she too drank, taking a modest sip of her excessively potent screwdriver.

As she did, she spotted Lance tipping his beer back out of the corner of her eye. She almost didn't notice it, he snuck the bottle up to his lips and lowered it back to his lap again so quickly. But the furtive motion didn't quite sneak past her radar.

No one else seemed to notice, though. They were all too preoccupied, for whatever stupid reason, with the fact that she'd drank too. She supposed she should have been thankful that they thought her "above" such behavior, but the attention was unwelcome all the same.

Ignoring their collective gaze, Yvette turned to their guest. "So? Details."

Not only had she never been with another woman, she'd never wanted to either. But if that man asked her to join him and another lover of his choosing, she wouldn't hesitate to agree. She might feel a little ashamed of herself afterwards, potentially, but the answer would be yes. No matter who the other woman was or what she looked like.

"Wait, did he drink too?" Curt asked.

Lance stared back at her with the most breathtaking blue eyes she'd ever seen. They weren't so different from others, really. Yet they were. It made no sense and she didn't care.

"You first," he said.

"For real," Zach said, though he looked away when she turned her eyes towards him. "I mean, it's not like anyone needs to know. You don't have to justify anything to us or anything like that. It's just-"

"Dude. Bro. You're rambling," Curt said.

Yvette tried to hide her amusement.

Were there spots of color in his pale cheeks?

The more she thought about it, the more adorable Yvette found it that Zach was so shy. She could have an awful lot of fun with that, if she was feeling naughty enough. And even if she wasn't, she'd appreciate it for other reasons. That blush suggested that he wasn't quite aware of how desirable he was. Which itself meant that he'd be eager to please and unlikely to stray. Men like Lance, who were completely comfortable with themselves and didn't feel the need either to deflect attention or demand it, absolutely drove her crazy. Bad Yvette especially. But Zach just might be the rare sort of guy she'd actually want to date, rather than one she'd hook up with one night while her dark side was in control and refuse to look in the eye again afterwards. Not that she was getting really good at that or anything.

How did a sweet guy like Zach ever got to be friends with a jackass like Curt?

"No one has to say anything," Kristen said, pulling herself up to her full height. All sixty-three inches of it. "Only when there's just one person drinking."

"Sure, that's a rule we all agreed on," Curt said, flicking her upper arm lightly. "But nothing says you can't satisfy our curiosity."

Kristen gave him a flat look. He didn't really think that she was confused about whether a Penthouse confession would be welcomed, did he? Or was that the best pitch he and his meager powers of persuasion could drum up?

"Maybe later," the little blonde said.

Curt smiled. "That works."

"If you're lucky enough to get me alone," Kristen added.

His smile slipped a bit, then broadened as he presumably remembered what was expected of him. Nothing turned Yvette off quicker than that sort of false confidence, but Kristen had the look of a cat who'd caught a mouse by the tail.

Good for her, Yvette supposed.

"Never have I ever-" Lance began, before the strangest sound cut him off.

It began as howling wind, but grew into a moan and then a blood-curdling scream. A sound so foul, expressing such infinite pain and unfathomable suffering, that she would have gladly resorted to pulling her fingernails out with pliers if a pair had been available so that she might have something to distract her from it. No living being could produce such a sound. But neither could any other force Yvette had ever encountered.

Everyone stared blankly at the far wall of the cabin. Then, one by one, they peeled their eyes away and began to look at one another, each asking the same silent question.

"What. The fuck. Was that?" Kristen eventually said aloud.

"I have no idea," Yvette replied.

Yvette turned her attention to Lance, as did everyone else. She wasn't sure why they all expected him to know the answer, but they did. Maybe because he was older and thus presumably wiser. Or because none of the rest of them were from around there and he seemed to know something about the cabin. For her part, at least, it was mostly because she hadn't sensed the least bit of fear or surprise or anything come from his end of the coffee table. There had to be more of a reason for that than steely nerves.

"Just the wind," he said.

Kristen huffed.

As well she should.

A particularly powerful gust might make one want to cover one's ears, but the desire to mutilate oneself was not easily produced. Whatever they'd just heard was not of this world. Superstitious Yvette was not, but she could think of no natural explanation.

"Come on," Zach said. He sounded duly concerned, but nowhere near afraid.

That set Yvette's heart to beating even faster than it already was. What sort of guy got tongue-tied by a freaky girl like her yet barely flinched at a sound that had her ready to throw the scientific method under the bus?

"You trying to tell us---Wait, never have I ever heard a sound like that."

Yvette chuckled at the clever move.

But even after Lance took a gulp of his beer, he offered no further explanation. Despite the fact that he was the only one to drink.

"Come on, man," Curt said. "You had your chance to object to the rule."

Lance regarded him coolly. "Nothing much to say," he said at last. "It was the wind. Doesn't agree with the mountain sometimes. Come here often enough, you're bound to hear it sooner or later." He paused, then added, "I'm surprised your uncle didn't mention it."

If anyone believed that, Yvette had a bridge to sell them. But no one pressed him.

At that point, Kristen stood up. "Okay, fuck this shit," she announced. "I'm going to bed." She grabbed Curt by the hand. "And you're coming with me."

"Um. Okay," he said.

And so, without another word, the former cheerleader marched the onetime quarterback upstairs to hide under the covers with her. Yvette had no doubt where that would lead, but for the moment, they couldn't have looked more childlike. Zach might as well have been a stuffed animal for all the difference it would make to Kristen.

"Well," Zach said, starting to rise. "Guess the party's over."

"Why?" Yvette asked, pulling him back down. She didn't think it too unsportsmanlike to arch her back a bit as she did, making sure her girls strained against the fabric of her lycra camisole. Maybe a little underhanded, but so what? That was no worse than the fact that they too had shed most of their layers after the fire'd had a chance to warm the whole place up. She had to put up with an irresistible amount of muscle and raw sex appeal being on display. They could battle a little boob. "You saying I'm no fun?"

Both guys laughed, if a bit awkwardly. "Not at all," Zach said. "Just figured-"

"This game's stupid," she said, "but I'm not ready for bed. And you need another drink." She looked at Lance's bottle. "And so do you, by the looks of it."

Neither offered any objection.

"And now that they're gone, you're going to tell us what you really think just happened," she added, trying her best to stare him down. Whether a hard man like him would break under a little pressure from a dumb college girl like her, she had her doubts, but Yvette gave it her best. Nonetheless, she allowed some sympathy into her voice as she said, "I understand you didn't want to freak her out." That almost certainly wasn't why he'd bullshitted them, but bullshit them he had. No doubt about it. "But we're made of sterner stuff."

"Speak for yourself," Zach said. "I'm shaking like a leaf."

She smiled. They both knew that wasn't true. Though his initial reaction had been no calmer than hers, the alacrity with which he'd regained his composure had impressed her even before he'd drawn attention to it with a witty remark.

And though he'd probably hoped she wouldn't notice, he'd moved closer and closer to her the longer the scream lasted. His arm had twitched too, like his first instinct was to protect her. She liked that, even if it was a bit patronizing and regressive. A sense of chivalry wasn't high on the list of qualities she looked for in a man, but empathy and concern for others was. As was the ability to keep a level head in stressful situations.

"Well, I suppose it could be a windigo," Lance said casually. Yvette almost couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, though it pretty much had to be.

"You mean wendigo?" Zach asked.

The older man shrugged. "There's a bunch of different ways to say it, and only so much similarity between the various Native American myths and the creature of modern fantasy and horror, but, yeah. You've got the idea."

"What do you know about Native American myths?" Yvette asked. It didn't surprise her to hear that the figure had been distorted, but she couldn't have begun to describe the ways in which it had. Nor did she know anyone who could.

"Not much," he said.

She waited for the rest, but that was apparently all he intended to say. Cold eyes regarded them silently and his stubbled face was expressionless.

"Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?" she asked. "Cuz if so, they lied."

Zach snickered as he got up to grab a fresh round of drinks.

"Doesn't matter," Lance said. "They're just stories. Whatever's out there, it's not what made the people who lived here hundreds of years ago afraid of Winter."

Had he capitalized the "w" just there? Was that a Native American thing?

The rest of what he'd said sank in. "So something is out there?"

Lance didn't react to her question at all. Not even with a blink of the eye. He just stared at her with those icy blue eyes. A shiver ran down her spine and for whatever reason, Yvette felt hornier than ever before in her life. She'd barely touched her drink, but Bad Yvette was definitely coming out to play. And sooner rather than later. She wanted both men. Preferably at once, though she didn't think they'd go for that. But one way or another, she was going to get laid. And forget all about freaky sounds and mysterious men who might or might not be centuries older than they appeared.

At last, Lance said, "Nah. Like I said, it's just the wind."

"Come on. We're giving you a place to crash for the night. Least you can do is be straight with us," she said, leaning towards him. His eyes found their way to her tattoo. And the cleavage that lay just below it. As they should have. "Please?"

But he either wasn't a big fan of breasts, or a fan of big breasts, or something. Ordinarily, when Yvette went out of her way to draw attention to her twins while wearing something as revealing as her cami, she got whatever she wanted. Almost like magic, though nothing so grandiose was needed to manipulate your average man. This one, though, was different.

If he hadn't confessed to a threesome earlier, she might almost think him asexual. Could he be gay? No, he'd shown even less interest in Zach and Curt than he had her and Kristen. Perhaps she just wasn't up to his usual standards.

The thought tightened her throat and tied her stomach in knots, yet it hardened her nipples and further dampened her panties as well. She hated feeling like she wasn't good-looking enough, but that feeling always got her good and worked up. Made her want to do whatever was necessary to prove that she was plenty capable of showing guys a good time, no matter how experienced or selective they thought were.

"I am being straight with you," he said, ever so convincingly.

"Give him a break," Zach said, returning with two beers. He handed one to Lance before sitting back down, a little further from Yvette than she'd have liked.

Was she not sending the right signals? Did he think her uninterested, despite the way she'd stared right at him while confessing that she'd hooked up with one of her professors? Had he not noticed the way she licked her lips or played with her hair whenever anything sexual came up? Or was he just intimidated by the older man? She supposed she couldn't blame him if that was the case, but she kind of wanted to tell him that he all he had to do was make his move before Lance did and she'd be his.

"What do you think he's hiding, anyway?" Zach asked.

Yvette shrugged. "Flying saucer near the top of the mountain. The cave of an abominable snowman. Headstones with our names on them."

They chuckled as they started in on their beers.

"I don't know," she continued. "But he's keeping something from us."

"Okay, I admit it," Lance said, holding his free hand up in surrender. "My snowmobile's fine. I just needed something to say to get you guys to invite me in."

"Hey, I'd want to crash this party too, if I were you," Zach said. "Guys your age can only expect so many more opportunities to live it up before time runs out."

"Zach!" Yvette said.

Petty jealousy was not going to win the contest for him.

But if the comment bothered Lance in the slightest, he didn't let it show. He stepped right past it, like a pile of animal droppings. "How well do you all know each other?"

Yvette and Zach looked at each other. "Not well," she said.

"Just met, really," he added.

"Kristen and Curt have known each other for...well, I think they've hooked up before." Yvette frowned. She suddenly couldn't remember how the plans for this weekend had come together in the first place. Which should have bothered her more than it did. "Why?"

Lance said nothing.

"Can't remember the last time Curt told me there was a girl he wanted me to meet who actually turned out to be worth talking to for more than two minutes," Zach said, giving her a smile that wasn't quite as charming as he believed it to be.

"Glad I cleared that bar," she said, holding her hand down low, a few inches off the floor.

He'd been off to such a good start. Why was he working so hard to undo all of that?

"Just sayin' I'm glad you came," he mumbled into his beer.

"Oooh," Yvette said, cooing. Mostly as a joke, but also because it gave her a chance to cop a quick feel, she pressed up against him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. "I'm sowwy. Didn't mean to huwt your feewings."

He pushed her away, but there was a smile on his face as he did. And unlike some people she knew, he found it impossible not to sneak a look down her shirt. And then another, more or less right after the first. A literal double-take.

You go, girl.

"So. Who's going to be missing you tonight?" Yvette asked Lance, turning away from the one she'd already baited and trapped. "Don't tell me there's no lucky lady who's used to having you warm her bed?"

Or lucky guy?

"Pry a little, why don't you," Zach said.

Yvette tossed an elbow at him.

Her usual approach to flirting wasn't quite so bratty. But something about Zach made her feel like a kindergartner. She wasn't about to freeze him out by telling him she saw him more like a brother or anything. No, she was definitely considering sharing a bed with him, and if she did, she didn't expect to do much sleeping. But part of her did see him that way, in both the right ways and the wrong ones. It was like she'd known him forever, and thus felt an abiding affection for him, yet had very little patience for his bullshit. The way she imagined she might feel about a brother, if she actually had one. That made no sense, given that they'd only just met, as he'd pointed out not a moment ago. But there it was. More than anything, she wanted to slap some sense into him. Then cuddle up with him in earnest.

"She didn't come with me," Lance said. "This is just a quick little trip to make sure everything's in order for a little party we're planning." With a faint grimace that carried no real emotion with it, he added, "Probably got some other guy pinch hitting for me tonight."

"That's terrible," Yvette said. "Don't say that."

"You know how women are," he said with a shrug, presumably for Zach's benefit. His eyes didn't leave hers though. And that made it a little harder for Yvette to breathe. "Leave them alone for a few hours and they'll probably cheat. A whole night and you can't even get mad. At that point, it's just a foregone conclusion."

"Can't say I've ever had that problem," Zach said.

"That you know of," Yvette teased.

He frowned. "No, I mean, I was never in a position to be cheated on." Clearing his throat, he added, "So literally never had that problem."

"Wait, really?" Yvette asked. "But you drank when-"

"I just didn't want Curt to make fun of me," he confessed. "He's not under the impression that I'm any sort of pimp, but he doesn't know quite how inexperienced I am." He paused for a moment, then added, "You could count this one girl in high school, I guess. But that only lasted about a week. And we never slept together."

"Wow," Lance said.

"Yeah," Zach said, running a hand through his full head of hair.

How could a guy that hot be a virgin?

Sure, he was shy, but some girls liked that. In fact, he was sitting right next to one who did. And if he got back to playing his cards right, or heck just didn't keep mismanaging them as much as possible, he'd get the chance to go as far as he wanted with her. Could she really be the first to see what he had to offer?

"Don't look now, kid, but I think your luck's about to change," Lance said, as if he'd read Yvette's mind. Or maybe just was written plainly on her face and would have been equally obvious to Zach if he wasn't so hopeless.

With that, the older man held up his beer, apparently deciding he was through with it even though it was far from empty. He placed it on the table then went and sprawled himself out on the couch opposite Zach and Yvette, lying flat on his stomach. "I think maybe it's time for me to get some shut eye anyway," he announced as he settled in. Then, with a grin, he added, "Try not to make too much noise up there, okay?"

Zach looked at Yvette, blushing horribly. She very nearly kissed him, but for some reason hesitated. Though how Bad Yvette let her get away with that, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was because he'd started acting like a child and thereby thrown a bucket of cold water on the fire he'd spent most of the night building up.

Or maybe because she was afraid that he didn't think her worthy of being his first.

If he was a virgin, did that mean he was the type of guy who looked down his nose at girls who weren't "pure" enough? If her history wasn't a problem, might her image be? It had sounded sincere enough when he'd said that guys suck after she'd called herself a freak. But maybe he'd only been trying to be polite.




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."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 02



"Why?"

"If you don't get upstairs soon, our boy's liable to get suspicious."

Was he kidding? After what he'd just guided her through, she was supposed to want a mere boy? A virgin? How was she ever supposed to sleep with another man again?

Besides, assuming she was still interested in Zach, what was she supposed to tell him? How could she climb into bed with him and pretend she wasn't a huge slut who deserved none of the respect he had for her? Heck, he'd probably heard them. She'd made plenty of noise before the ball-gag appeared. Probably enough to be heard even in the shower.

Fuck, what was wrong with her? Why couldn't she control herself?

"Go," he said, in that deep voice of his.

She just sat there, staring at him in disbelief. And doing her best to fight back tears of shame and self-loathing. No part of her wanted to face the guy waiting for her upstairs. And if the man sitting across from her would stop looking at her ugly face, that would be pretty awesome too. Yvette wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

"I need a moment to collect myself," she said, looking away. What did he think of her stupid tattoos and piercings? Did he know how much she hated her body? How desperate she was to distract attention from all her imperfections? The clothes he'd dismissed early covered her up once again. "I'm having one of those `Did I really just do that?' moments."

"Don't make me tell you again." The tone of his voice sent a shudder down her spine. And when he grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes, Yvette let out a whimper. The worst part was that his commanding tone and firm grip had Bad Yvette stirring again. It was no fair. "I don't like repeating myself."

So Yvette nodded, kissed him quickly on the lips, and hurried toward the stairs.

#

When she got up to the room, Yvette found a fully-clothed Zach standing by the window, his back to her. But the scented candles were burning and the lights were off. Like he was trying to set the mood, but was too nervous and inexperienced to think of undressing a bit and waiting for her atop the bed. The guilt monster that climbed atop her back took that as a sign of encouragement and began to antagonize her more vigorously.

"Hi," she said softly as she eased the door closed behind her.

"Come here," he said.

It wasn't that she balked. Just that her brain froze and was thus unable to relay any messages to her limbs. It wasn't so much a conscious decision, like she refused to do as he requested, as it was a genuine inability to put herself in close proximity to him.

Why had she done it? Yes, Lance had been great. Sex that good didn't come along every day. But it wasn't like she'd known he was something more than human. That he'd please her in ways no ordinary man could, and leave her buzzing with borrowed energy afterwards. No, Bad Yvette had simply insisted that she give in to temptation, consequences be damned. And, as always, she'd surrendered. What made her think she was worthy of a guy like Zach?

He looked over his shoulder at her. "I think there's something out there."

That got her moving. She left some distance between them when she got to the window, but not so much as to arouse suspicion. Or so she hoped. Just more than she would have if she hadn't betrayed him the moment he left to take a shower.

"There," he said, extending a finger towards the glass.

All she saw was a short stretch of snow followed by a sea of black, interrupted here and there by faint lights. It didn't bother her quite as much now as it had earlier, now that she had a deity's power coursing through her veins and the dark of night blunted the contrast between the mountainside and the open air beyond, but it still wasn't a pleasant view.

"I don't see anything," she said.

"Look closer," Zach said, putting a hand on her back. "Right there."

She followed the line his finger projected.

Yvette let out a shrill squeak as she saw something move.

Then she slapped Zach's chest with the back of her hand and laughed at herself. "Probably just a deer. You jerk. Some way to seduce a girl, scaring the piss out of her."

"That's no deer," he said.

His somber tone made her look back. He was right. Whatever it was, it was nearly as white as the snow around it. Though she'd heard of white deer before, and was pretty sure she'd once read something about them playing an important role in some Native American cultures, she didn't think they were all that common. And, more importantly, when the thing had moved, it had done so with more of a feline grace. Keeping low to the ground, like it wanted to escape notice. No deer she knew of did that.

"What do you think it is?" Yvette asked.

Zach shrugged.

"An animal, though, right? A live one?"

She felt stupid. Had she thought he'd spotted the first wave of a zombie invasion? Or one of the other absurdities from their game? Just because something she couldn't quite explain had just taken place in the living room didn't mean there was anything out there with a thirst for blood. And if there was, Lance would protect them from it anyway.

Lance. The very best and yet the very worst thing that had ever happened to her.

Yvette let out a sigh. "I need to tell you something."

He looked at her with soft, understanding eyes. "If you need to get something off your chest, feel free. But don't do it on my account. Whatever it is, I promise I won't care."

She snorted.

Zach ran his fingers lightly through her hair. "I don't care about your past-"

"Stop," she said. "You're only making this harder."

He frowned. And took a small but ever-so-meaningful step back. Not that she could blame him. She was the one who'd driven a wedge between them, after all.

"I don't know how to say this," she began. And, for that very reason, she briefly considered not doing so. But she'd let Bad Yvette make her decisions for her too much already.

So, with a tight throat and a dry mouth, she started confessing. And once she got going, the words started coming a bit more readily. Telling him what she'd done wasn't easy, exactly, but neither was it as difficult as it could have been. As she'd feared it might be. And it felt good to come clean, even if tears were rolling down her cheeks by the end.

"I really I don't think he's human," Yvette repeated after she ran out of things to say. She wasn't herself sure whether that was meant to be taken as exculpatory or if she was simply making an awkward transition to a separate but equally important topic of discussion.

He took it all remarkably well. A faint look of surprise, followed by sadness, appeared on his handsome face. But he kept his emotions in check. And never once interrupted her. When she started to cry, he took her hand in his and gave it a soft squeeze.

"You don't hate me?" she asked.

"No. I don't hate you," he said, setting up a good "but" if his tone was any indication.

It didn't come though.

He just looked down at her with those beautiful blue eyes. Which, the more she thought about it, looked entirely too much like Lance's. They were the exact same shade of blue, which was not a particularly common one either. She could almost think they were two manifestations of the same person. That some supernatural entity was mocking her, dangling Zach in front of her to build her hopes up only to then throwing Lance into the mix so that she'd be forced to confront her own weakness. To see what a shitty person she was, selfish and utterly devoid of self-control. That wouldn't make a whole lot of sense, but she wasn't sure it would make any less than whatever was really happening.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Don't be," he said. "You don't owe...we just met."

His words sounded strained. But she couldn't hold that against him. He was a saint for speaking them at all. He ought to be calling her a slut and telling her to get out of his sight.

"What does that say about me though?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, probably."

Probably.

"You believe me?" she asked. "That he's not normal?"

"Oh, he's definitely weird," Zach said, getting a giggle out of her. "I know what you mean, though," he quickly added. "I'm not sure I'd have made that leap on my own, but something about him made my brain itch."

"Really?" she asked, noting his choice of words. She rarely heard other people use that phrase to describe the vague sense that they were missing something, failing to connect certain dots, but it was one of her favorites.

"Yeah," Zach said, stepping away from her and the window. He walked across the room and hit the light switch. Because why shouldn't he? Forgiving her indiscretion was one thing, wanting to hop in bed with her was quite another. The chance of that happening had disappeared the moment she kissed Lance back. "Did you notice how the fire seemed to be trying to get away from him? Like...I don't know if this makes sense, but it almost looked like cold wind was emanating from him, you know?"

Yvette stared blankly at him. She hadn't noticed that at all. And though there were many words she might use to describe his touch, cold was not among them.

Zach shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I didn't feel anything. But I'm telling you, the fire did not like him. It was weird. I thought it might be my imagination, but now that you're saying you don't think he's human...I don't know."

Man, was he sure of himself.

That was terrible. He was sweet and forgiving and handsome and really well-built. She should be cursing herself for throwing away any chance of pursuing romantic involvement with him. But she couldn't help herself. The need to avoid cognitive dissonance, to convince herself that she wasn't that terrible a person, was heightening her awareness of his flaws.

"I can't say I noticed that," Yvette said. "But I'm sure you're right."

He frowned, eyeing her skeptically. "Anyway, we should probably-"

A howl like the one they'd heard earlier drowned out the rest of his words. Drowned out Yvette's thoughts. Loud as the previous scream had been, this one was ten times worse. And it was soon joined by a second, then a third. She threw her hands over her ears and doubled over, though that didn't help much. Needles stabbed at her brain and claws raked her spine. Soon enough, her ears would bleed and her eyes boil inside their sockets. There was simply no other way for her body to react to that horrible sound.

Abruptly, it stopped.

"Seriously. What the fuck was that?" Yvette asked.

"How should I know?" he asked, a look of surprise on his face.

"Sorry," she said, both for turning him into an authority on the matter and the vehemence with which she'd made the inquiry. "I just-"

"I understand," he said. And she believed him. "The one person in this cabin who knows the answer to that, though, is downstairs."

He didn't add, "And you just got done fucking him." Nor did the look on his face suggest that any such thought had crossed his mind. But she heard the words inside her mind all the same. Though the voice speaking them was hers.

"Shall we go talk to him, then?" Yvette suggested.

"Are you okay with that?" he asked.

That was a dang good question. "I guess so."

"Think he'll be any more talkative now than before?"

She fretted at her lower lip. "Probably not."

"Well, can't hurt to try," Zach said, offering her his arm ironically. Or maybe not. She had no frigging clue anymore. He made no more sense to her than her own emotions did.

All things considered, though, she was pretty okay with that.

Whatever his intention, she looped her arm in his as they went out into the hall. And, for a moment, she almost forgot how scared she was.

Unfortunately, when they reached the living room, they found it was empty. Lance's parka stull hung from the coat rack and the boots and sweater he'd shed later were piled near the fireplace, but there was no sign of the man himself.

"Well, doesn't that figure," Zach said as he went over to the couch. For a moment, Yvette thought he might check beneath the cushions, the way one might after losing a phone, but he didn't. Just scratched his head, looked around, and said, "Fucking shit."

"Yeah," Yvette said, grabbing the chair their missing guest had occupied earlier and pulling it close to the fire. She pulled her knees up to her chest after sitting down. It wasn't all that cold in the cabin anymore. Hadn't been for hours. But the thought that they were all alone had more of an effect on her than it should have. It wasn't like there was really anything out there to be afraid anyway. "Yeah," she repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"Maybe he just went to the bathroom," Zach said before going to check. But of course he came back a few moments later and said, "Nope. So much for that."

"It's not a big deal," Yvette said, for her benefit as much as his.

"Suppose not," Zach agreed. "Gotta at least get his stuff, right?"

Right. A deity older than any government whose authority their ancestors would recognize would just be so lost without a parka and snow boots. Yvette kept the thought to herself, though. "Any beer left?" she asked.

"A few," Zach said with a snort. Of course there were. Even with the arrival of an unexpected guest, they hadn't gone through twenty four bottles. "Want one?"

"Nah, was just asking for the hell of it."

That was uncalled for. But he responded with a simple, "Right,' then he went into the kitchen to fetch two bottles. He returned shortly with the drinks and a second chair as well, which he set down beside her. Not too close, though. A nice, friendly distance separated them. As was only to be expected, at this point.

And if she wanted that to change, she probably ought to go easy on the sarcasm. But whatever. She was too exhausted, in too many ways, to modulate.

"Here," he said, handing her the bottle.

"Does any of this make any sense to you?" she asked. "You're not just humoring the crazy girl with the freaky tattoos because she's got big boobs, right?"

Zach spurted a mouthful of beer onto the fire. It landed with a sizzle, killing the flames dancing atop one corner of the nearest log. "No," he said. "No."

"Not sure I'd blame you," she said. "The things coming out of my mouth sound a little crazy even to me. Can't imagine what you must think."

"Look at the fire," he said.

Yvette regarded him silently. The look on his face couldn't have been more earnest. She sighed and turned her attention to the flames.

And noticed that they were sputtering lazily, as though a gentle wind was blowing directly on them. One coming directly from her.

"Fuck," she said.

"You said it felt like he passed something to you," Zach said.

Yvette fell silent.

He reached over and laid a hand over her wrist. "Huh. You don't feel cold."

More than anything in the world, Yvette wanted that touch to linger. To grow into something more intimate. More passionate. Wanted him to forget about how stupid she was and let go of any concerns about how he might measure up to a god and make love to her, slowly and softly. But a delirious second later, his hand fell away.

Yvette touched her own pale skin. It was white as snow, but he was right---it was as warm as ever. Whatever Lance had done to her, it had nothing to do with her body temperature.

She tipped back her beer. It tasted terrible. Like wet bread. How guys managed to acquire a taste for the stuff, she had no idea. But at least it offered a distraction. And if she could stomach one or two bottles of the stuff, her frazzled nerves might settle down.

Of course, there were other ways to get there. Some of which were far more fun.

But now. Bad Yvette was back in her cage, and there she would stay.

"You think wind can make that sound?" Yvette asked.

Zach shrugged. "Crazy shit happens up here in the mountains. At least, that's what my grandfather always says. He grew up not much more than an hour from here. I'm a plains boy myself, so I guess I've pretty much got to take his word for it."

"I hardly knew my grandparents. Any of them." She sighed and took a healthy swig of her beer. "Mom's parents died before I was born. Dad's shortly after I turned ten. Not even sure what happened. He said it was cancer, but even as a kid, I knew better than to believe they both got sick at the exact same time. To this day, he won't talk about it."

The handsome guy beside her held his breath. "Same here. Only it was my parents. Grandpa took me in after. Lived with him ever since I was six."

"Weird," Yvette said.

"Yeah," Zach agreed, raising his bottle to his lips.

"You know, I'm not normally this flaky." She cleared aa waterfall of hair from her face, wondering what he thought of her raven tresses. The piercings probably didn't do much for him. He was too straight-laced. But she had beautiful hair. Straight and shiny, strong and natural. He had to be the type who'd appreciate that, didn't he? Who'd know that she didn't dye it? "I declared myself an atheist at thirteen. Flirted with the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster in high school, just to piss off all the Jesus freaks, but I'm a big believer in science. I can't explain anything that's happening here, though. Not the weird game we played earlier, or the sounds we've been hearing, or...Lance."

Zach simply stared at the fire while he worked his bottle.

"What about you?" she asked. "You a believer?"

"In what? God?"

"I don't know. Whatever," she said. "Stuff they don't teach in science class."

"Dunno," he said. "Not enough of a non-believer to get a thrill from pissing off those who are, that's for sure," he added. "But I guess I'm pretty skeptical. About most things." His voice fell silent. "Except ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

He nodded. "I saw my mother once. After she died. Grandpa didn't believe me. Said it was just grief. That, and lack of sleep. But I don't think so."

"Why not?" Yvette asked. "How did you know it was her?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Guess I don't. I've never even told anyone, honestly. Figured I'd just get laughed at. But I can't have you thinking you're the only one whose prone to what our friends who are psych majors would call magical thinking, can I?"

Yvette forced a laugh.

So. He was just trying to commiserate. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that his grandfather was right. It was only the love for his mother that kept him from admitting it. And regard for her that made him cop to a belief he didn't really hold.

It was sweet. Enough that she might have started thinking about kissing him again, if she wasn't so busy feeling spooked. But it did nothing to convince her that they were safe.

"Maybe we should get out of here," she said. "Did Carl leave the keys out, or would you have to sneak in his room and fish them out of his pants?"

Zach frowned.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, washing her embarrassment down with beer. "I'm being a total girl. Next thing you know, one of them's gonna take a trip to the bathroom, a floorboard's gonna creak, and I'm going to scream my blood head off."

That earned her a pleasant smile. An adorable smile.

"Something might be happening," he said. "Or it might not be. Either way, you're going to look back on this night in the future and smile." His eyes returned to the fire. Yvette could see the reflection of the flames there, graceful dancers in orange leotards performing before a bright blue backdrop. "You probably won't tell your husband about the time you had sex with a Native legend, but you will your daughter. Once she's old enough."

"You think so?" Yvette asked, grinning. It was a bit presumptuous on his part. And detailed. Some girls would find it creepy. But, given the context, she found it endearing.

Mostly, she figured, he was just trying to calm her down.




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 03



The sounds coming from the second bedroom made Yvette rush towards the door. In the back of her mind, Bad Yvette was whispering that she ought to do the exact opposite. She hardly knew Kristen all that well anyway, and it wouldn't be so bad having a dorm room all to herself. There might even be some truth to the old urban legend that one got a 4.0 if one's roommate died in the middle of the semester. But Yvette refused to listen.

Once she opened the door, though, she sort of wished she had.

Three of the strangest beasts she'd ever seen paced around her friends, stopping every so often to snarl at them. They looked like white tigers, but their tails were lengths of lacquered steel chain, the last links of which were vicious white spearheads. Large racks of antlers grew out of their heads, those too made of white steel. Whenever their massive paws touched the carpet, ice crystals quickly spread out like frozen spider webs, though they began to melt as soon as the ice-steel-tiger-beasts moved.

"Help!" Kristen shouted. Or maybe it was a whimper. She had her back pressed against Curt's and tears had ruined her makeup. "They're gonna eat us. Do something!"

"Get out of here!" Curt said at the same time.

"What?" Zach asked from over her shoulder.

"`Anything you try's only gonna antagonize them," the big jock said, giving Kristen's hand a squeeze. `Look at these things! No sense going down with us."

Kristen whimpered loudly.

There were a dozen more appropriate reactions, Yvette was sure, but she found herself cocking her head to the side and studying Curt intently. Gauging his fear, which was surprisingly minimal. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. The macho man thing seemed to be more than an act. Wouldn't do Kristen much good, granted, but it still impressed Yvette.

In a small way.

"Maybe he's right," Zach whispered to her.

That, on the other hand, wasn't so impressive.

Curt probably was right. She didn't see what she and Zach could do to the unnatural beasts circling the bed besides annoy them. And since it didn't seem like they'd taken any notice of her and Zach yet, for whatever reason, that seemed like an especially bad idea.

But still. What kind of man would abandon his friend like that? How could she trust that he wouldn't do the same to her, should the situation ever arise?

"Are you kidding?" Yvette asked him, making sure to convey as much disapproval bordering on disgust as she could. Sure, the very same thought had crossed her mind, but Zach didn't know that. "We are not leaving them."

Besides, there was nowhere to go. As Zach well knew.

"Good!" Kristen said. "I know I'm not the best roommate, but-"

"Stop," Yvette said. She didn't even want to know how the girl would have finished that sentence. The desperation in her voice made Yvette's skin crawl. It also meant that anything nice she said would be pure bullshit. "No one's going to die tonight."

The nearest kitty turned to her and purred. Only that purr came out like roar. The rumble in its throat made the floor vibrate. And she was pretty sure that some of her piercings did the same. It was a wonder that she didn't wet her pants. Those jaws looked powerful enough to snap her thigh in half without so much as slowing down, and it wouldn't surprise her to learn that the beast's teeth were sharp enough to rend steel.

Why did that thrill her nearly as much as it scared her?

Was she really getting aroused by a supernatural tiger beast with a spiked chain for a tail and steel antlers that would cut through her like tissue paper?

Yes. Yes, she was.

Or, more accurately, Bad Yvette was, and she was along for the ride. The rest of her felt a heady mix of fear, disgust, confusion, and self-loathing. But none powerfully enough to crowd out the intense excitement causing her petals to unfurl.

"Ooookaaay," Zach said, pulling her back gently with an unwelcome hand on her shoulder. "What are we going to do then? Yank on their tails?"

"Good question," a strange, guttural voice asked from out in the hall. Whoever, or whatever, had spoken wasn't accustomed to doing so. Not with that set of equipment, anyway. Her father had sounded more natural the first time she'd spoken to him via Skype.

Yvette pushed Zach out of the way and got herself a good look. Though "good" was not quite the right word. Nothing about the sight before her was good.

Part man and part wolf, it stood on two legs and had to have been close to ten feet tall. Its body was covered in white fur, short enough in most places for her to admire the incredible definition on its lean muscles but thick and shaggy around the ankles, down the chest and abs, above its manhood, along the arms from elbow to wrist, and from the neck up. A bushy tail drifted lazily through the air behind it. Steak knives stretched out from the tips of its elongated fingers and its muzzle contained dozens of sharp white teeth.

If the unnatural beasts inside the bedroom filled Yvette with an awkward mix of appropriate and inappropriate reactions, the wolf might as well have been an underwear model. The fear and shame and so forth remained with her, but they slipped beneath the surface, leaving a solid layer of pure lust on top. Any moment now, rational thought would return, she was sure. But for the time being, all Yvette could think about was how badly she wanted to get fucked by that thing. How desperately her womanhood yearned to be filled by its huge spear while those claws made a mess of her back, shoulders, and hips.

Then the urge passed.

Or, rather, it ceded ground to her other emotions. The tingle between her legs remained, she still felt flushed, and her nipples hadn't stopped throbbing, but she felt enough shame in that moment that the thought of being torn limb from limb by a giant furry monster kind of held some appeal. And not of the perverse, Bad Yvette sort. She'd made a lot of bad decisions in the past year, but getting down on all fours so a werewolf could violate her while a trio of tigers devoured her friends would definitely take the fucking cake.

"What are you going to do?" the wolfman said as it took a slow step closer to Yvette and Zach with a four-toed paw that was decidedly less human than its five-fingered hands.

It bent down, so that it no longer towered over her. Big blue eyes stared into hers. They were the exact same color as Zach's. Or Lance's. For a split second, she was amused by that. Ready to ask herself what the odds were. But then she realized it was no coincidence. Couldn't be. Eyes like that were too unique. And something supercrazy was going on. Had been from the moment they'd set foot in the cabin, she suspected.

"Lance?" she asked.

"Say what?" Zach asked, as if he didn't know. "You slept with that?!"

Or maybe he didn't. Was it possible that he had no connection to the older man? Despite their obvious similarities and even more striking differences? No. There had to be some link. But that didn't necessarily mean he was aware of it.

"Well, he looked a bit different at the time," Yvette muttered.

More was the pity.

The wolf-thing smiled. At least, she thought the way its lips curled back, baring still more of its teeth, might pass for such. And, if she wasn't mistaken, one of its eyes sparkled.

"That I did," Lance said.

"Fuuuuck," Zach said.

Yvette's reaction was much the same. But a lot more complicated.

She hated herself. And wanted to tell Zach not to hate her. Yet if Lance told her he wanted another go right then and there, she wouldn't have refused. Even though part of her wanted to scream at him and tell him to get the hell out of their cabin. And take his weird pets with him. Still another part wanted to pass out and hope that it would all be over by the time she woke up. But Yvette couldn't give voice to any of those feelings, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and most of her synapses weren't firing.

"Eaves!" Kristen called from in the bedroom. "What's going on out there?"

The loud noise made one of the tigers growl.

"Shh!" Curt said. "Don't provoke them."

"Provoke them?!" Kristen shrieked. "They're going to eat us, Curt! For fuck's sake!"

"All the sooner if you don't keep quiet," he replied.

Yvette looked from Lance to Zach. She found no expression on either of their faces. In fact, neither seemed to be aware of her presence anymore. They were locked in a staring contest that already had a clear winner, though Zach had yet to throw in the towel.

"Don't you think we should take this party downstairs, love?" asked a woman whose high-pitched voice Yvette didn't recognize. "There's not much room up here."

One moment, the hallway behind Lance was empty. The next, it was not. A black-haired woman wearing a black dress with blue trim stepped out of the shadows and pressed her hands against him affectionately. Her nails and heels were the same shade of blue as the cups of her dress, as were her eyes and even her lips. Which, Yvette couldn't help but notice, were obnoxiously full. On any other woman, they'd have looked gross and fake, and not just because of the bold, unusual hue. Yvette might still have thought so, except by the standards of that incredibly fucked-up night, the woman's incredible beauty seemed almost boring. And the strange cosmetic choice struck Yvette as hauntingly beautiful.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Zach said, without conviction. Had she not heard the words but instead just the sound of his voice, Yvette might have thought he'd asked her if he could get her anything to drink. Or offered to give her a foot massage. "Neither is she," he added, a little more firmly, planting a hand on Yvette's shoulder as he did.

"Hmmm," the woman moaned throatily as she rolled her hips, filling Yvette with a hunger she'd never known before. That sound alone nearly made her cum.

The shadow lady didn't have particularly dramatic curves. It just looked like it because her waist was implausibly thin and the dress fit her so perfectly. That, and the splashes of color were strategically positioned to emphasize her best parts. Yet the hips, thighs, and breasts to which that silk clung so desperately were not nearly as impressive as they first appeared. Yvette knew that. She couldn't help desiring the woman, though. For the first time in her life, she pictured her face buried between another woman's breasts. They might be half the size of her girls, but they were still perfect. Big, but not too big.

"Why is it that I don't believe you?" the woman asked. Her words were directed at Zach, but her eyes and her body language were locked on Yvette.

"I...I...," Zach stammered.

"Yvette!" Kristen shouted.

The blue-lipped woman rolled her blue eyes. Which, Yvette noted, were also unnaturally bright and colorful. Just like Lance's. "You want to take care of that, or should I?"

"You do it," he said. "I'll escort these two down to the living room."

"Don't hurt them," Yvette said.

"Yeah," Zach said. "If you so much as-"

The woman started laughing. The sound of it was somehow both dainty and perfectly belittling. Such a light, musical laugh could only be produced by the most feminine of beings. Someone too small and too delicate to harm a fly. Yet Yvette felt her body fold in on itself in sympathy for Zach, who must have felt even less threatening himself.

"Please," he said.

That put and end to the laughter. And made her blue lips curve upward.

Yvette lost herself for a moment in the shape of them. The way they swelled in the center and the pronounced philtrum above the upper one. Thin at the edges and ultra-thick in the middle, the woman's lips reminded Yvette of a painted geisha. Her unnaturally fair skin, as white as freshly fallen snow, added to the effect. As did her jet black hair.

She could never look like that. It didn't matter that her hair and skin had more or less the same coloration. Her skin was pale and sickly, not beautiful and pure. The black curtains falling to her shoulders looked more like wool than silk. And her lips were dreadfully thin.

"Don't worry, my cute little pup," the woman said, taking long graceful strides towards Zach on her stunning blue heels. "I won't harm a hair on their heads," she added, trailing a fingertip over the back of Zach's hand and down his forearm.

The emphasis she put on the first word should have made alarm bells ring in Yvette's head. But she was too distracted by the seductive touch to notice.

Did she have any right to feel jealous? To get possessive of a man she did not possess? No. Not at all. But she did all the same. There was no way Zach would do to Yvette what she'd done to him, but if the woman tried tempting him to do so, she'd find out whether her stomach was capable of digesting a few of her teeth.

"That's your job," the woman finished.

"What are you talking about?" Zach asked.

Yvette would have pulled away and turned around, but that would have meant Zach's hand leaving her shoulder. And she figured the bitch standing beside her would be all too happy to get closer still to her "little pup." But Yvette didn't like the thought of Zach staring into those bright blue eyes instead of her pale ones.

"We'll explain in a minute," she said, sliding away from Yvette's shoulder and towards Zach's. "Go downstairs. Make yourself comfortable. Have another drink."

Then the bitch planted a kiss on his cheek. As if she had any right. As if he'd want anything to do with her if he was more in control of his own thought processes.

And that was the only reason he allowed it. Because it was no easier for Zach to ignore the charms of the strange woman than it had been for Yvette to deny Lance. The two of them were more than human, and no mere mortal could resist them. That didn't mean her sweet Zach had as few scruples as she did. Or so she chose to believe.

"Come on," Lance said, in his normal voice. Which made sense, since he was once again wearing his normal body. How he'd changed so fast without Yvette noticing, she couldn't have said, but there it was. "We'll all be happier if we do this the easy way."

Yvette hesitated. She wanted to object. To tell him he could take his easy way and shove it up his ass because they weren't going to do whatever it was he and his whore wanted them to do no matter what. But she couldn't. The mere sight of his handsome face and bare chest melted her resolve. She wasn't the least bit proud of it, but she knew there were was nothing she wouldn't do to please him. And the same went for Zach and the little blue devil.

#

"She didn't mean that, right?" Yvette asked once the three of them had gathered in the living room once more. "That it's our `job' to hurt our friends?"

Lance regarded her silently, as though she might unask the question if he made her feel awkward enough. If he felt the cold that had bothered him before, it didn't show, though he wore nothing now but a pair of thin drawstring pants. His nipples weren't even hard. Not that Yvette was looking anywhere but at his face, of course. Because there was nothing distracting about that bare chest, strong and hairy and broad and perfect as it was, anyway. No, all her attention was on the cold blue eyes telling her to unask her question.

"Who are you guys, exactly?" Zach asked. He had his back to the fire, as though its warmth might give him strength. Or maybe he just figured he looked a little more imposing bathed in an orange glow. Which, to be fair, he kinda did. And less like the man she'd thought might be another manifestation of the same entity. Though both had black hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and relatively similar physiques, one was cold and dangerous, the other warm and comforting. "And what do you want with us?"

The hard look directed at Yvette a moment ago fell upon Zach. Then Lance slowly grew more monstrous. He didn't change all the way back to the towering wolfman, but he grew a foot taller, sprouted tons of white fur, and his tight-lipped mouth turned into a snarling muzzle. The arms crossed over his chest grew freakishly long in proportion to his body.

"I'm not scared of you," Zach said. A faint quiver in his voice belied the words, but he kept his back straight and his gaze did not waver. Yvette almost believed him.

Whether Lance did was another matter though. He gave no indication one way or the other. Neither did he complete his transformation. Or reverse it, for that matter. He just stood there, staring at Zach, more man than wolf but terrifying all the same.

Had she found his monstrous form attractive not a minute ago? What was wrong with her? When he wore a man's body, Lance epitomized sex appeal. But in his other form, he became emblematic of all the reasons children asked their parents to keep a light on at night. Having managed to stomp Bad Yvette down for moment, she felt only revulsion and terror.

After a fashion, Zach said, "If you were going to kill us, you would have already."

Yvette felt like the sun had broken through the clouds. Their night might have taken a dark turn, but there was a barrier up ahead. They'd only travel so far down this road. Terror gave way to anxiety. Yes, Lance was a monster. A man to be feared rather than desired. But neither he nor his blue bitch would hurt them.

"He's got a point," she said.

Lance turned back to her. His eyes glowed more and more intensely and soon she had to look away. "We didn't come here to kill you," Lance said after she did.

"Just to make us kill our friends," Zach said.

No reply came.

"Fuck you," Yvette said, stepping closer to the man she should have chosen earlier. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, it felt right and good and familiar. As if they'd been together forever. She knew how absurd that was, but didn't much care. Nothing had made much sense since they'd gotten out of their trucks. "Get the hell out of our cabin."

"It's not your cabin," Lance replied.

"I don't really care what the white man did to your ancest-"

He actually looked confused. She was prepared for him to interrupt her with a bark of laughter. Haughty, dismissive, arrogant laughter. But confusion?

"What do you think I am?" he asked. His voice remained deep, but not as much as before. And the commanding tone was gone. If anything, there was a hint of amusement.

"How should we know?" Zach asked before she could reply. "You've hardly told us anything about you. And most of what you have told us was a lie."

By way of response, Lance finished the transition from man to monster. He reached towards them and extended his claws, the points coming to rest a few inches away from the tops of their heads. Yvette's knees buckled and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Zach's confidence that he wasn't going to hurt them suddenly made her feel as safe and protected as a shield made from cardboard and aluminum foil might have.

"Loooook innssside," the wolf snarled.

Its hands withdrew and Yvette's sense that she might find out what fruit went through on its way to becoming a smoothie lifted. But the blazing blue eyes and sharp canine teeth left no room for genuine relief. Only a slight easing of the tightness in her throat.

There was nothing sexy about the creature before them. Not in the least. As soon as this was over, she was going seek out a mental health professional. Or find some way to exorcise Bad Yvette, if that was what it took. She couldn't go through life battling the sorts of urges she'd felt that night. Not after knowing that things like Lance existed.

"The thought scares you," Lance continued. "But its truth won't be denied."

"Are we playing nice down here?" the blue bitch asked as she entered the room. Her heels clopped distinctly on the hardwood. Yvette wondered why she hadn't heard them on the stairs. "I thought we agreed I would get to be the mean one."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 03



Lance grunted.

The woman shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?" Then she snapped her fingers and Curt and Kristen appeared, sitting back to back atop the coffee table. "Do we even know if they're really attached to these two?"

They weren't conscious, but Yvette could see their chests gently rising and falling. And there was no sign of injury. Aside from being bound together with duct tape, they looked fine. They were even dressed in the clothes they'd had on earlier, rather than buck naked as they had been when Yvette had burst into the bedroom.

Yvette wished she could press pause. Give herself a minute to try to process the first dozen impossibilities of the night. Then she felt stupid for not wanting to press stop.

"We'll find out soon enough," Lance said. His eyes flicked towards Yvette and she wanted to kick him in the balls. Or bite his cock off.

His partner strode towards him like a model on a runway, each step crisp and precise and her hips rolling exaggeratedly. Under different circumstances, Yvette might have thought that cute. The woman had soft features, round cheeks, and oversized eyes. Between that and her inflated lips, to say nothing of her improbable proportions or her sugary soprano voice, she looked more like a doll than a person. Or a girl who was trying all too desperately to look like a doll, the way some Japanese girls did. It was kind of sad and kind of adorable.

Or would have been, if Yvette wasn't sure that the woman's heart was as cold and blue as her eyes and lips. Who chided their lover for not letting them "be the mean one" anyway?

"I'm sorry, sweetie," the bitch said before giving her wolfman lover a kiss on the bicep, which was all she could reach even in those killer heels. "You did great, setting all this up."

"He did?" Zach asked.

Neither Lance nor his lady paid the question any mind.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," the woman said at last, turning to face Zach and Yvette. With a lacquered blue nail nearly long enough to qualify as a claw of her own, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm Lena. Wolfboy's sister."

His sister?

On some level, that made sense. It explained the way she slipped in and out of the shadows. The not-so-cuddly pets she'd called off just in time. Her inhuman proportions and perfect face. Whatever he was, she clearly was too. As she'd have to be, if they shared the same blood. But the way the two of them looked at and spoke to each other had left Yvette with the impression that they were lovers, not siblings.

"I don't think they saw that coming," Lena said, caressing her brother's back affectionately. Perhaps too affectionately, and not just because it was covered with white fur.

Lance grunted.

"Have you fucked her already?" she asked.

Yvette sputtered indignantly, but couldn't quite get any words out.

"Maybe," Lance allowed.

"Can't blame you," Lena said, her eyes traveling up and down Yvette's body in a way that made her want to cover herself up. Or claw the bitch's eyes out. "Not quite your type physically, and I don't know about the tattoos and piercings, but she's definitely one of us."

"I think it's time for you to shut your mouth," Zach said.

Lena shrugged. "Can you not think of better uses for it?"

Yvette barely processed the quick exchange. Her head was still spinning from the claim that she was one of them. And the way Lena's words resonated with her instantly. Some part of her was still trying to figure out what sort of relationship Lance and Lena had too, whether it was possible that she'd lied about being his sister or if perhaps the sexual tension Yvette thought she sensed between them was merely an attempt to disgust her and Zach, but that was a distant concern at the moment.

"You must have so many questions for us," Lena said walking over to the far couch and settling down atop it in a most ladylike fashion. The leg she crossed atop the other was ridiculously perfect. Slender and long, at least for her height, yet given nice shape in all the right places by strong muscles. "And we'll be happy to answer them."

"But?" Zach asked.

Right. Of course there was a catch. Yvette would have picked up on that herself, were she not so busy envying the woman and her perfect body.

Lance gripped Curt's head gently between the tips of his claws, like he was about to pluck an egg out of the carton. Tilting the head back and swiveling it around, he made the unconscious man face his friend. "We'll start with his teeth."

"Excuse me?" Zach asked.

"You've heard people complain that trying to get answers out of someone was like pulling teeth, right?" Lance asked. "Well, in this case, it's literal."

Yvette nearly fainted.

But while her mind was busy conjuring up some bloody imagery to give life to Lance's words, Bad Yvette slipped free of her bonds. All of a sudden, Yvette felt incredibly turned on. Nauseous and short of breath, yes, but excited too. Her panties were dampening and her nipples hardening. A tingling sensation started in her crown and worked its way down her body, causing her to shudder pleasantly. It was the most deliciously uncomfortable feeling.

"We torture them and you answer our questions?" Yvette asked.

Lena nodded.

"Deal," she said.

"Are you crazy?" Zach asked, leaning away from her. "No fucking way!"

She started to argue with him, but there was no point. What could she say? He was right. She couldn't pretend otherwise. Even if the two innocent people sitting atop the coffee table weren't their friends, what Lance had proposed would be abhorrent. Unthinkable, even. Or should have been, if her moral compass wasn't broken.

Not to mention the two L's had already let slip a few juicy details. If they held out long enough, they'd get all their questions answered anyway. And no one would get hurt.

But Bad Yvette was back in control.

And, to her surprise, nearly as interested in the torture for its own sake as for the information it might produce. All of a sudden, she was fairly certain that she would cum while torturing Kristen, and cum hard.

She couldn't breathe, she was so shocked. Terrified too, perhaps. A little. But mostly just shocked. Her darker aspect had pushed her to explore some uninviting places. Tempted her to try rough sex with strange men and encouraged her to hurt them back in imaginative ways. But it had never advocated anything like this before.

So why was she so excited?

Zach stared at her aghast. "You're seriously going to do this?"

Rather than answering him, Yvette stepped around him and reached for the back of Kristen's head. But before her fingers found the girl's silky blonde locks, someone threw her onto the couch. Roughly. If he'd meant to follow that up properly by ripping her clothes off and using her for his pleasure, she might have climaxed right then and there.

But of course he didn't. Zach wasn't getting ready to assert his dominance over her. No, Yvette was getting another taste of the chivalry he unfortunately didn't realize was thoroughly outdated and beyond unnecessary.

"I'll do it," Zach said through gritted teeth.

"No point trying to keep these hands from getting dirty," Yvette said, showing him her palms. "I'm not pure or innocent enough for that."

"I know."

Those two little words stung worse than any slap ever could. It was great. She felt humiliated and degraded and unworthy of affection. And yet she'd never wanted Zach more desperately than she did at that moment. The look in his burning blue eyes, so disgusted and superior, made her squirm in all the right ways.

"Are you sure?" Lance asked.

Zach stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"Well hello handsome," Lena said, teasing her lower lip with a blue nail in a way that made Yvette want to pounce on her. Her eyes shifted from Zach to Yvette and she said, "Men are so hot when they're about to cut someone up, don't you think?"

She couldn't agree more, but she kept the thought to herself.

"Here," Lance said, handing Zach a pair of pliers that hadn't existed a moment ago. "Remove four teeth and you can ask your first question."

"What if he wakes up?" Zach asked.

"Oh, he'll definitely wake up. Before you finish with the first, I suspect. And that's when things will get interesting," Lance replied.

For a time, no one said anything. Yvette found herself shifting her weight, inching towards Lena. Seeking out the warmth of her body, assuming she had any to offer. Or maybe just hoping that the woman's hands might get a little adventurous. In truth, she wasn't sure what she was doing or why. And that didn't even bother her.

All she knew was that her life was about to change dramatically. The balance of power inside her mind had been permanently altered. Putting Bad Yvette back in her cage would be next to impossible after tonight. And that was just fine by her.

#

The room stank of blood, vomit, and burnt flesh. Yvette had never smelled anything quite like it, and it made her giddy, nauseous, and delirious all at once.

"I can't," Zach said, tossing the fire poker aside contemptuously.

Curt sputtered something. He might have been thanking Zach for his mercy. Or begging to be put out of his misery. With no tongue left in his mouth, it was hard to say.

"You have to," Lena said.

"No," Zach replied, vehemently. He stepped away from his friend.

"Well, then I guess you'll never know why we're here."

"Oh, fuck this," Yvette said, picking up the discarded weapon. 

Her first swing missed. Which was just as well, since it hadn't been particularly forceful. No way that would have ended it. But her second, which Zach failed to prevent thanks to the sharp claws digging into his shoulders, got the job done. The top of Curt's head, already badly burned, exploded like an overripe pumpkin.

Zach doubled over and vomited on the carpet.

Lena offered a golf clap. Aside from that and the occasional hiss of sparks inside the fire, the cabin was silent. And so it remained for some time.

"Why us?" Zach eventually asked. Between that and the way his head and shoulders hung limply, one could almost think he'd done the deed himself, rather than forcing Yvette to do it for him. "What are we to you?"

Lance offered a wolfish smile. He and Lena were enjoying even more than she herself was, and she was due for an epic bout of self-loathing in the morning. And everyday thereafter.

"You can do better than that," Lena said after removing from her mouth the fingers she'd had inside Yvette up until a moment ago. Glancing at Curt's corpse, she added, "Not really honoring your friend's memory with that one, are you? After the last answer I gave, it should be obvious enough."

It was to Yvette. Or near enough that she wouldn't have squandered the hard-earned answer by asking for confirmation when there were so many other things they didn't know.

But Zach obviously didn't see it that way. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"That's two questions now," Lance said.

Lena laughed. "Honey, don't be cruel."

Zach covered his face with both bloody hands and sobbed. The fingers slowly fell away and bloodshot eyes stared at Yvette with horror. "I can't believe you. You sat there... enjoying yourself...while I tortured my friend. Then you bashed his head in. I was so, so wrong about you."

He really was. And they'd have had to come to grips with that sooner or later.

But his words still stung. 

"What do you want me to say? That she's anything short of amazing with her fingers? That hearing him scream, beg, and whimper while you swing back and forth between reluctance and rage was anything other than an aphrodisiac? If I did, I'd be lying," she said.

And it would be real whopper too. She'd never felt anything like the pleasure she'd experienced at Lena's hand. The orgasm had been more than just an orgasm. Yvette had felt like she'd had a spiritual awakening, complete with out of body experience. For just a moment, she'd hovered above herself, watching the girl with black hair and excessive tattoos suck air. Then her consciousness had returned to its physical vessel.

On some level, she knew that Lena had done more than provide a little manual stimulation. That something more than a few slender fingers had entered her. But another part of her insisted that she was losing touch with reality. The things she'd pictured in her mind while the other woman fingered her couldn't be real.

Zach stare at her with wide eyes. Glowing eyes, if she wasn't mistaken.

But it wasn't disgust that had lit them up. She was sure of it. Or not only that. He wanted her every bit as desperately now as he had before. Maybe even more so. He hated himself for it, but there it was. Were Lance and Lena to leave the room, he'd pounce on her like a wild animal. And she'd squeal in delight.

Zach shook his head. "This is so fucking sick."

Yvette smiled. "Don't knock it til you've tried it." She wasn't herself sure whether she was referring to what she'd done to Curt or what she'd let Lena do to her. Perhaps both.

He sneered in disgust.

"She gave you the opportunity to rethink that last question," Lance said, words distorted by his wolf jaws. "Are you going to take it?"

While she waited for him to make up his mind, Yvette climbed back onto the couch, put a hand on the back of Lena's head, and pulled the other woman in for a kiss. She quickly discovered that while those blue lips might look strange, they felt better than any other pair she'd ever had the pleasure of pressing hers against. So, so soft. And not the least bit cold.

"You're immortal. But you're not gods, in the traditional sense," Zach said, as if they hadn't covered that several times already. "And whatever you are, you think we are too. At least in part." Nothing new there either, though Yvette wasn't sure why he felt the need to hedge like that. So far as Yvette was concerned, there was no question that the two of them were immortal as well. Not anymore. "You've come to show us what we really are." 

"And bring us home?" Yvette asked when she finally came up for air.

Lena gave Zach a small nod. 

Yvette then turned her face back towards her and made to rejoin their lips. Lena slipped a finger between them, however. Turning her attention back to the boy who still stood beside his dead friend, she asked, "So what's your question?"

"You just answered one," Lance said.

"Shush," Lena replied, again proving that she wasn't so good at being the mean one.

Zach shrugged. "Where's home?" 

"That, my little pup, is an excellent question," Lena replied.

Lance rolled his eyes. "No it isn't. Be better to ask-"

Lena ran her fingers across her lips as though zipping them shut. Thankfully, that silenced Lance. But Yvette still threw her head back against the couch and groaned. Something inside her hummed with anticipation and hunger. She needed more action. 

And Lance needed to stop interrupting her.

"We're from Winter," Lena said, taking them all in with a sweep of her hand. "And when I say we, I mean all four of us."

"Does it mean something that we were all born at the same time of year?" Zach asked with a look of utter confusion.

"I'm not talking about that."

Zach frowned. "Okaaaay."

"Winter is part of the Homelands," Lena said.

"The what?" Zach asked.

"That's enough," Lance said. Pointing an unnaturally long furry finger at Kristen, he added, "Have them finish this one off before you say anymore."

Zach rounded on him. "Fuck off. I just killed my friend! Which kinda seems merciful after all the other shit you made me do to him. I haven't even begun to process that, but one thing I know for sure is that it earned me a whole lot more than that."

"Um, actually, you didn't kill him," Yvette said, holding up a tentative finger like a shy student asking a stupid question of an impatient professor. "I did."

He responded with a huff.

"This world isn't real," Lena said. "It's one of Winter's Lodges. Meaning it's a mix between magic trick and computer simulation."

One of Winter's Lodges. Yvette had never heard either word used as a proper noun, something inside her stirred nonetheless. She'd never quite known what was wrong, but she'd always known that something was. Her whole life up until that point had been a lie.

Perhaps she was only reacting to Lena's claim the way she was because she wanted to believe it. To believe that she hadn't really killed a man. Or allowed another woman to pleasure her while she watched brutal acts of torture. But she didn't think it was that. No, the story they were being fed might be far-fetched and all too capable of casting their actions in a better light, but it was still true. 

Up until that moment, they'd been little more than actors in an elaborate stage production. Actors and audience both, for that matter. They'd entirely suspended their disbelief, from the moment the curtain had risen. But now it was time to exit stage left, get out of their costumes, and start being themselves.

"You expect me to believe that?" Zach asked.

Lena turned to Yvette. "Seems some people know the truth when they hear it."

Yvette's heart swelled. She wanted to forget all about Zach. Even Lance, for the time being. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to crawl atop Lena and lose herself in the woman's kiss. Feel those perfect legs wrapped around her waist cup those firm breasts in her hands. A powerful, beautiful, insanely desirable immortal, who had seen and done things she could only imagine, was making a point of flattering her. By way of insulting someone else, yes, but that didn't matter. Not if she chose to ignore it.

"Then prove it," Zach said. "Take us to to Winter."

Lena laughed. "Not so fast, my little pup."

"Why not?" Yvette asked. Judging by the look on his face, she'd beaten Zach to the punch. Only she hadn't made a demand out of it. "You can take us there, can't you?"

Lena gave her a sympathetic look and pressed a hand to her cheek. The woman's soft skin made Yvette's face tingle and her blood run hot. She wanted desperately to kiss Lena's strange blue lips again. They were so plump and beautiful.

"You're not ready yet," Lena whispered.

"What do we have to do?" Yvette asked.

"Jump through another hoop. And then another. And another," Zach said with a sneer. "Don't you get it? These sick fucks just want to see how much shit they can get us to do before we realize there is no Winter."

Yvette gave him a flat look then went right back to ignoring him. The beautiful woman sitting beside her on the couch had her undivided attention. She hoped that whatever the final task was, it involved taking her clothes off. But she had a feeling it wouldn't. 

More likely, she was going to have to kill Kristen.

But, then, the girl wasn't even alive. So it was no big deal.

Except it was. Because Bad Yvette's grip on the wheel was loosening.

Lena's blue eyes turned to unconscious girl. "Go on."

Yvette studied her roommate. Or the illusion that she'd once thought of as her roommate. Whatever she or it was. If she didn't get some medical attention soon, she'd die anyway. If Yvette had wanted her to live, she should have cauterized the wound. Instead, she'd used the girl's belt to fashion a makeshift tourniquet. But that hadn't done much for her. Her face was whiter than Yvette's and her mouth was turning blue. Not because of any strangely beautiful, dark, glistening lipstick either, but because she'd lost a lot of blood. 

"Don't do it," Zach said.

"Fuck you," Yvette replied. "You're gonna stand there and tell me to make the right choice after what you already made me kill your best friend because you didn't have the stomach to put him out of his misery after torturing him within an inch of his life? How about you take your patriarchal, condescending, bullshit and shove it up your ass."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 03



Lance chuckled. It sounded strange coming out of his wolf mouth. 

"Do that, and we'll take you to Winter," Lena said.

Yvette grabbed the meat cleaver she'd used to chop Kristen's arm off. "Well, then." 

"You really don't-" Zach began, stepping towards her. 

Before he got another word out, Lance smacked the back of his head. Casually. Halfhearted though the blow might have been, though, it still sent Zach flying across the room. He landed in a heap and didn't move.

"She's not real," Yvette whispered to herself as she raised the bloody knife. A voice in the back of her mind asked her if it would matter if she was. "She's not real," she repeated.

Dull pain shot up her arm as she made impact. The cleaver sank several inches into Kristen's skull. And then the girl opened her eyes and began screaming.

#

"Nothing?" his brother asked him the moment Nick took shape again. 

"Nothing," Nick confirmed. 

What he didn't say, as much because it would go against the ritual as anything else, was that he hadn't even been looking for Frank. Not this time. Rather, he'd been stalking a commoner girl who he thought might make an easy mark. He might have grabbed her too, if he hadn't been ambushed by a snow leopard.

Might have. He still wasn't sure. 

Nick's cloak sublimated. He looked down and studied the body he hadn't seen bare in weeks. Not that he was expecting to find any-

"Are those scars?" Eric asked.

"Huh. Yeah, they sure are," Nick said, too stunned to inject any sarcasm into his response. "She shouldn't even have been able to touch me," he muttered.

"She who?" Eric asked. "Don't tell me you ran into Daphne."

"Pffft."

His brother breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." Then he added, quite unnecessarily, "Suppose I should've figured that. You wouldn't be standing here if you had."

"Right. Because you're the only one brave enough and strong enough to go face to face with her and live to tell the tale," Nick said.

Eric held up his hands defensively. "I didn't say that."

"Whatever," Nick said. His cloak wrapped itself around him once more. "Anyway, it wasn't her. Just one of her daughters. Apparently one of the stronger ones." He snickered in spite of himself before adding, "That, or we're even more fucked than we realized."

"That's not funny."

"Kinda is, actually."

"What the fuck's happened to you?" Eric asked, staring at Nick as though seeing him for the first time. The look didn't suit him. Eric's pretty face did smug better than it did surprise. "Do you even want to make it back to Summer?"

"Of course I do," he said. "Just because I don't whine about Vee the way you do Gabby doesn't mean I miss her any less."

"So why are you being so reckless?"

He wanted to talk about reckless? The guy who wanted to kidnap one of Daphne's daughters because he was convinced she wouldn't see it as kidnapping once she saw how handsome and brave and charming he was?

"Precisely because I want to make it back to Summer," Nick said. The hopeless romantic probably still thought everything would work itself out just because they were the good guys. Probably figured Flori would knight him when they got back too. "There's no way we're getting out of here without getting our hands dirty. Even then, outlook's not too good."

"I agree. It's time to start looking for hares."

"You know, I'm really starting to wonder about that," Nick replied. "We both know that if there's no real desire involved, no new energy will be created. We'll milk her dry in no time. Buy ourselves another day or two, at best."

"Right, if there's no desire involved."

Nick sighed. He had no hope of getting through his brother's thick skull. Even if he did, there was that giant ego to grapple with.

His brother was a good-looking guy. Not irresistible, but attractive. 

What if they used each other? No kidnapping, no risk of attracting Daphne's attention. No additional mouths to feed. Just a nice, simple, elegant solution to their biggest problem.

Nick tried picturing his brother on top of him, and a shudder ran down his spine. 

It was no use. 

He could appreciate his brother's physical perfection from a distance. But the thought of letting anything other than his eyes touch the guy was just too much. He didn't like what it said about him that he'd sooner resort to kidnapping and raping an innocent woman than have sex with another man, but he couldn't reason his way into wanting his brother. And if he didn't genuinely want him, then there'd be no point. 

But, then, Nick didn't need to like it. Not so long as Eric did. His brother could produce the surplus, and pass some to Nick in his moment of ecstasy. Then they'd both be better off. All Nick had to do manipulate his brother's emotions. 

Nothing he hadn't done before. To someone he cared even more about.

And if he didn't, the two of them would be forced to do the same to someone else. So, really, it was just the lesser of two evils. 

"Quit looking at me like that," Eric said. "You're creeping me out."

"Tell me something," Nick asked. "My eyes look green to you?"

Confusion fell over his brother's face. "No. Why?"

"No reason."

It wasn't like Nick was worried that he was turning into their father or anything. No, nothing as ridiculous as that had crossed his mind. 

"Did you think you'd changed them?" Eric asked. "How can you melt into shadow day after day and still have trouble with a little thing like that?"

"Dunno," Nick replied.

Eric grunted.

Before he could overthink it, he reached inside his brother.

It was awkward, not being able to see what he was doing. And there was nothing there to work with. No latent sense of desire that his brother had been suppressing, which always helped. So it took all the skill he possessed, not to mention all his remaining energy.

But he knew right away that it had worked.

"What...what did you just do?" Eric asked, breathing heavy. His blue eyes started to glow. They were a different hue than those of Daphne's brood. Lighter. Almost colorless, at least by comparison. But for just a moment, Nick was reminded of the snow leopard that had nearly spilled his shadowy organs on the mountainside.

"Go easy on me," Nick said as his brother approached.



Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 04



"Well done," Lena said as she came up behind Yvette. A cool fingertip traced a line down Yvette's neck and across her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spin. Already hard nipples pebbled further. The 14 gauge piercings started to hurt. "Almost ready to go home."

"Almost?" Yvette asked, looking down at the bloody remains of her roommate. The grisly sight made her uneasy, but no more so than fresh roadkill would have. On some level, she was aware that she was personally responsible for the butchery. For the gallons of blood that made pooled artistically atop the coffee table and made a damp, sticky swamp of the carpet. But she couldn't react to that the way she should have. Her mind had activated a firewall, blocking any and all emotional responses to the deed. Save morbid curiosity and the slightest hint of disgust. "You said that was all we needed to do."

Lena's face came closer still. Her breath was cold. That didn't surprise Yvette, but her body still wasn't quite prepared for it. The chill was unsettling, yet remarkably arousing. Her pussy was throbbing, and she wished those frostbitten fingers would grab her breasts and squeeze. "Your brother's in no shape to travel."

Lance chuckled at that. It was the first sound he'd made in a long time.

"My brother?" Yvette asked with a hollow voice.

It wasn't that she'd expected such a revelation. Only that she utterly lacked the capacity to react appropriately to it, no matter how surprising it was. 

Though, come to think of it, she probably ought to have guessed a while ago. He and Lance looked too much alike. So much so that she'd considered the possibility that they were one and the same. And then there was the thing with the fire, all the talk of them coming from some faraway land, the fact that Lance and Lena were brother and sister, and so much else. Did the powerful connections between the four of them mean they had to be members of the same immediate family? No. Not necessarily. But it made sense.

They were all related. By blood. Not just members of the same race of immortals.

"So does that mean...," Yvette began. "Are you my mother?"

"Probably," Lance said, at the same time that Lena said, "No. Maybe. I don't know."

She needed to sit down. 

It should have occurred to her that the coffee table wasn't the best place for that, due to all of Kristen's blood and the bits of her hair and scalp, but it was right there. So she went for it. The warm, wet feel beneath her proved to be more welcoming than it should have anyway. It gave her a strange thrill.

"Was a pretty simple question," she observed.

Lance went and dragged Zach's limp form in front of the fire. For her part, Lena leaned down to pet one of her tiger beasts like it was a house cat. It purred softly as her fingers sank into its thick fur. Because of course it did. When it lashed its steel tail, the chain links clanked against the floor.

Yvette wasn't even sure she remembered its reappearance. But that was too far down her list of puzzles to let it eat up any of her mental processing power.

"No one really knows who their parents are," Lena said.

The sight of Lance petting the big cat in his towering wolfman form should have struck Yvette as absurd. Maybe even frightening. Instead, she felt her attraction to the man rise once more. It didn't even bring a tinge of guilt this time, as it had the last time she'd found herself lusting after a towering monster with claws like knives and jaws fit for biting through steel. Who could resist a man who was good with animals?

She'd lost her mind. There was no doubt about it.

"We are all her children," Lena said.

"Who's her?" Yvette asked.

"Lady Winter," came the reply. Obviously. "She didn't literally give birth to all of us, but she's still our mother. So it doesn't really matter. You should think of me as a sister. Sometimes, though, our fair queen allows her daughters to conceive. If we work hard enough to please her. And, yes, she did grant me that honor once, a few years ago."

A few years? "Umm. I'm not great at math, but...."

Lena smiled. "From what I hear, that's not really true."

Yvette blushed. And wondered how long they had been spying on her.

Was it just a fortuitous coincidence that she and Zach had gone to the same college, or had they been pulling strings all along to bring them together at just this moment?

"Time flows differently in Winter," Lance explained. "A few years there amounts to a couple of decades here." He patted the tiger's hips with an open palm, causing the animal to sit obediently. As most antlered, spike chain tailed beasts do. "The timelines matche up. But she wasn't the only one who gave birth around that time, so we can't be sure."

"And you were the father," Yvette guessed. 

Her head started spinning even before he confirmed it. Not only had she just fooled around with a woman who'd taken her own brother as a lover, but she was guilty of the same crime herself. Twice over. And if the two older immortals had waited a little longer before crashing the party, her night would have included three experiences with incest.

Incest.

The word was so powerful to so many people. But it hardly meant anything to Yvette. She'd done far worse that night. Heck, her past indiscretions included more shameful acts. What did it matter if Lance might have squirted her into Lena a few years ago? At the time she'd surrendered to him, he'd been a total stranger.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more it hit her. Sure, it was just sex. They were both consenting adults. No one had been hurt. Well, Zach had been, but no more so than he would have been if she'd humped Curt. Yet a lifetime of social conditioning had her convinced that the latter would have been far less depraved. By taking her father inside her, she'd violated some sacred law. And though she didn't believe in a higher power, there was still a part of her that trembled at the thought of what she'd done.

Yet it gave her a perverse thrill too. Now that she knew Lance and Zach and Lena were all forbidden fruit, she wanted them even more. Wanted to have a big family orgy. At her sluttiest, she'd still not done anything that would offend Bible thumpers that much.

Not sexually, anyway.

Her pants were damp, for all the wrong reasons. When she went to stand up, she'd hear a sticky sound as she pulled away from the remnants of the life she'd ended. 

"Breathe, dear," Lena said. "I know it's a lot to take in, but you're stronger than that."

Yvette inhaled, held it, then exhaled slowly. Her mother was right. No, sister. She'd said to think of her as a sister, regardless of whether it was her or Lady Winter who'd given birth to Yvette "a few years" ago. Whoever's daughter she was, she was strong. After all she'd been through that night, it was going to take more than this to get to her.

"So, what, we wait until the fire wakes him up?" she asked, looking at her brother.

Lena looked up at Lance. They held each other's gaze for a time and Yvette felt almost like she was watching a movie. Except no on-screen couple had ever had as much chemistry as those two. Shadow lady and wolfman stared at one another and all the heat went out of the room. The fire sputtered and nearly died. Yes, they were cold-blooded killers. Nightmarish monsters that belonged in any genre but romance. And yes, they were brother and sister. But the depth of their desire for one another, the strength of their love and affection, was absolutely intoxicating. Just looking on from the sidelines was giving Yvette a contact high.

"No," Lance answered at last, without taking his eyes off Lena.

"No," the woman on the couch echoed. Her hand still lazily stroked the tiger beast's fur, right between its steely antlers. "I'll do that myself." Then, without another word, she rose to her feet and strode towards the fire.

Yvette watched in silence as her mother straddled her brother's unconscious form, looking for all the world like she intended to take him back into the womb. The little black dress rode higher and higher along the woman's hips as she rocked back and forth, until the bottom of her her butt poked out beneath. Those cheeks were so perfect and round that Yvette was sorely tempted to rush over there and spank them just to see how they'd react. She was willing to bet they'd barely ripple despite their size. She was looking at solid muscle. It was too bad the softer globes at the other end of her dress hadn't worked their way free as well.

"Wakey wakey, my little pup," Lena whispered as she bent down to kiss the boy. Her hands remained on his hard chest but Yvette thought she saw the hair of her brother's beard flatten against his face, as though invisible palms were pressing softly on his cheeks.

The breath caught in Yvette's throat. She'd never watched two people kiss and envied the guy, but in that moment, she sure did. Even if he was unconscious.

"She's amazing," she whispered, perhaps to Lance and perhaps to herself.

"You've no idea," her maybe-father agreed.

Seconds ticked past, becoming minutes, and still their kiss endured. Glistening blue lips moved slowly as they flowed over and pumped against the lifeless pair below. A seed of fear took hold in the pit of Yvette's stomach, then began to grow and grow. What if Lance had hit him harder than he'd meant to? Could Zach be dead? Even though he was immortal?

No sooner had the thought occurred to her, though, than he began to stir.

In movies, when someone was awoken by a kiss, their lips parted the moment the person came to. Not so with Lena and Zach. Her brother seemed to have forgotten all about his anger and defiance. His eyes went wide for a few moments, but then he threw himself into the kiss, raising his head up off the floor as his tongue chased Lena's down her throat. Zach's hands roamed freely over her body. Innocently, at first, but it wasn't long before they abandoned back and thighs in favor of her sweet ass. And then came a smack that echoed through the cabin like a mighty thunderclap.

"Mmm," Lena moaned without removing her lips. "That felt good."

"Are they really going to...?" 

Lance nodded.

Yvette felt sick. Not because the sight wasn't arousing. It absolutely was. But because she was jealous. As jealous as she'd ever been. Of both brother and mother, but the latter especially. In that moment, she remembered the connection she and Zach had felt. How close she'd come to taking his virginity. And she resented her mother for beating her to it.

#

Lena stood up and pulled the hem of her dress back down. As she did, the room melted away like a freshly fallen snowflake caught on tip of the tongue. Though she hadn't really doubted that her mother would make good on her promise to take them to Winter, Yvette hadn't quite been prepared for that. One moment, she'd been surrounded by comfy couches and a coffee table covered with blood, two fresh corpses and a cute fireplace. The next, she stood in a cold, dark cave. It happened so quickly, she nearly fell over.

"Welcome to Winter," Lena announced with a broad sweep of her hand that Yvette almost couldn't see. Her tiger beast growled its agreement.

"Right, why would you...let a guy...catch his breath," said Zach, who was still lying flat on the ground. "Or let him put some clothes on...before you pull the rug out from under him." He hissed and muttered a few curses as he got to his feet.

"Whining won't get you very far here," Lance said. 

"I wasn't whining," Zach said. He looked down at his body and with a thought dressed himself. At least, that was how it looked to Yvette. Which was no stranger than some of the things she'd done after stealing some of Lance's energy. But it still impressed her.

That was who they were. Who they'd always been, though they'd never thought to test out their innate abilities. And while her brother had been slower to accept the truth, he was catching up now. How long before he was able to do things to her that no other man could?

He wasn't a hot as Lance. Nor as well-endowed. Or as skilled a lover. Their mother's little peep show had made that much clear. But he was still plenty nice to look at. And had gotten the job done competently enough, judging by Lena's reactions. 

In time, he might grow to be the perfect lover. If he could be talked into getting a little rough from time to time. Which she was willing to bet he could. He'd never hurt her out of anger or malice, but if she asked nicely?

"Call it what you will," their father-slash-brother replied. "Our mother doesn't tolerate weakness. If you want something, take it. Anything else will be interpreted as whining. And if I were you, I wouldn't be eager to tell her she's wrong to think so."

To Yvette's ears, that didn't sound altogether unreasonable. A bit harsh, but it created good incentives. No woman had any use for a whiny man. One who was willing to reach out and take what he desired, rather than plead or negotiate or lay guilt? 

That said, she couldn't help sympathizing with her brother. The abrupt shift had disoriented her, and given her a bit of a headache besides. And unlike Zach, she hadn't found herself lying naked atop cold, hard rock instead of a soft carpet beside a warm fire.

"I'll keep that in mind," Zach said sternly. 

Yvette drew in a sharp breath. His voice, like his spine, was iron. There was defiance there, bordering on threatened violence. The fact that their father was half again his height, at least currently, didn't seem to bother him at all. Neither did the sharp claws and teeth.

That. Was. So. Hot.

"Our mother's very busy," Lena said. "But she'll make time for you as soon as she can. There are few things our mother enjoys as much as welcoming children home."

Their mother. The queen of all that was dark and cold and fearful.

Yvette's knees buckled. Now that they finally had a moment to catch their breath, the normal people reactions she'd staved off for hours were finally setting in. 

It was like she'd been swept up in an adolescent fantasy, discovering that her real mother was the beautiful queen of a magical land where everyone, including her, had magical powers. The dull, boring life she'd led in the Lodge was over. Only hers was was a dark, twisted version of the tired old trope. One with enough sex and violence involved to earn an NC-17 rating for the film adaptation. And which seemed most unlikely to end happily for anyone.

Bad Yvette should have been exuberant. And, on some level, she could feel that impulse struggling to come to the fore. But the better part of her repelled the attack.

Her mother and father had forced her to take two innocent lives. And then they'd magicked her away to a dark nightmare, where she'd meet the icy queen of pain and fear. They'd try and turn her and Zach into monsters. Failing that, they'd torture and kill them for their own amusement. Why the heck had she been so eager to get on with that?

Her only hope was Zach. He wouldn't be seduced by the darkness so easily, nor would he let their parents---or siblings, or whatever the two L's were---hurt her. He'd protect her. Both from the rest of Winter, and from herself. If she but gave him some reason to do so.

"In the meantime," Lena continued, "let me show you to your rooms."

"How about a proper tour first?" Zach asked. He glanced at the icy walls to either side of them. "I'd like to see the rest of this beautiful place."

Yvette's heart raced. He was asking for trouble, and he knew it. But he didn't care.

"Our mother will decide how much of the palace you get to see," Lena replied.

"Whether to confine us to our rooms until the end of time, you mean," Zach said. 

"Precisely," Lance said, turning that frightening wolf head towards Zach. "What are you going to do about it? Whine some more?"

The cave was too dark for Yvette to make out exactly what happened. She thought her brother took a swing at their father. But he might just have been trying to get out of the way of Lance's bum rush. She really wasn't sure who was or wasn't acting defensively.

Regardless of how it began, though, she was quite clear on how it ended. And that was with her brother flat on his back again, this time with five sharp claws buried an inch or so in his torso and a gaping maw hovering above his face.

He let out a small whoof as the air was knocked out of his lungs. But that was it. If the steak knives biting into his chest bothered him, he didn't let it show.

"You probably think I told you to do that," Lance said. "When I told you to take what you want, I meant you that you need to be strong if you want to please our mother. The operative word, though, is be." He withdrew his claws from Zach's torso then patted his son's cheek. "Best keep your hands to yourself until you're ready to come at me for real." With a toothy grin, he added, "Not that you ever will be."

"Oh, I will. Count on it," Zach said, almost managing to deliver the line straight. 

Yvette wanted to pat him on the back. Or tell him he wasn't quite ready to play in the big leagues. One of the two. She wasn't really sure.

The laugh their father let out made him seem less wolf than hyena. 

Zach threw the monster off him as easily as he might a sack of potatoes. 

When Yvette saw that Lance was still laughing, her surprise ebbed a little. But even with him distracted, that was incredible. In his wolfman form, Lance had to weigh at least five hundred pounds. Shoving him roughly aside would have been one thing. Getting him airborne, even for a fraction of a second, was quite another.

No one else seemed impressed by the feat, though. Maybe that was just what was expected from the men of Winter.

"Come with me," Lena said, helping Zach to his feet.

"Wait," Yvette began. When her mother turned to face her, though, she found that she had no idea how to finish. 

Lance regarded her. The twin blue orbs sitting above his slavering mouth were the size of her fists. The light they gave off was faint, but sufficient to convey his intentions. She was going to get fucked by the wolfman after all. "I'll take you to your room," he said. 

That was what Bad Yvette wanted. But not what she herself wanted. 

Still, if she protested, she'd probably just end up with a few holes in the chest of her very own. Or worse. Her father was not the sort of man women said no to. 

Besides, the longer he stared at her with blue hot desire, the stronger Bad Yvette grew. She was less and less sure that she minded being left alone with the Big Bad Wolf.

"So," she said after her sister and her brother left, trailed by a strange tiger. "Looks like you've got me all to yourself for a while. Again."

"Whatever shall I do," he said. Strangely cool breath rolled over her.

"If you huff and you puff, I might blow your huge cock," Yvette said, as much out of nervousness as anything. Stuff like that sounded so stupid when other people said it, but it wasn't so bad in the heat of the moment. Until it was. 

Lance snorted.

"Have you eaten my grandmother?" Yvette immediately wished she could take the words back. She sounded so stupid. Why was she flirting with him like an unpracticed middle schooler? She was beyond that. They were beyond that. 

"As often as she'll let me," he replied. "There's no one like her."

"Not even...Lena?" Yvette asked. She'd been about to say "me" but he didn't seem too interested in playing her little game, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear a sincere reaction to that question. He had to have enjoyed their previous romp at least a little, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe she'd made it into his hall of fame. Not yet.

"Not even her," he agreed. "And she'd be the first to admit it."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 04



"If that's supposed to make it even harder for me to wait until I get to meet her, mission accomplished," Yvette said. 

She wasn't even sure if she was just playing along or actually being sincere. 

Either way, at the moment, her best bet was to pretend that she was drawn in by it all. The tips of a few fingers brushed a tuft of arm hair. When he didn't recoil, she got more adventurous. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt up the oversized killing machine. How many lives had those claws ended? How windpipes had been crushed by his jaws? 

"Am I really supposed to settle for you in the meantime?"

Without warning, he spun her around and slammed her against the wall. Hard. Maybe even too hard, though she'd been looking for just such a reaction. The wind had been knocked out of her, her back stung fiercely, and tears welled in her eyes.

The look on his face made it all worth it. There was such intensity there. And primal rage, the likes of which even his massive form could not contain. He was going to absolutely ravage her, and it would be like nothing she'd ever experienced. Part of her wanted to cry. But Bad Yvette was as excited as she'd ever been. And she couldn't help feeling that the smart thing to do was let that part of her take over until he was through with her.

"My room?" she asked breathlessly.

A wet, sloppy tongue licked her from chin to forehead. He left slobber all over her face. It was disgusting. Yet it didn't stop her pussy from aching for him.

Then, without a word, he dropped to all fours and loped off. 

His humanoid body didn't seem designed for such movement, but his arms elongated and his hands became just a little more like paws. Though she didn't think he was moving at top speed, Yvette had trouble keeping up with him.

It got a little better after they emerged from the dark, though. The labyrinthine system of passageways soon gave way to a gorgeous palace formed from pure ice rising up and out of the mountainside. Once there, Yvette had no trouble seeing. In fact, she was almost blinded by the bright sun, surrounded as she was by reflective surfaces.

The blinding light and her brother's fast pace were but two of the reasons she didn't get to take it all in as much as she'd have liked. The tower in which her room was located wasn't far from where they'd left the network of tunnels. That was too bad, because the translucent floors and walls made quite an architectural statement. To say nothing of the interior design consisting solely of ice sculptures and potted blue or white flowers.

Her queen-sized bed was neatly made, the pristine white covers drawn tight enough to bounce quarters off of. The furniture, upholstered in various shades of blue, was simple but nice. The adjoining bathroom was small and spartan. The room might have fit in any number of three star hotels, save for the floor and walls of solid ice. Well, and the lack of a TV. But that, she didn't mind nearly as much as the panoramic view of snow-covered mountains, white puffy clouds, and, more importantly, vast empty sky. 

Now that she finally had a chance to stop and put her optic nerves to good use, she wished she was back in the dark tunnels. The floor-to-ceiling window in the cabin was nothing compared to this. It felt like a hand was clasped tight around her throat.

"Quite the view," Lance said, though he wasn't referring to the stunning skyscape behind him. Was he admiring her heaving chest or the extensive tattoos decorating it? It certainly wasn't her face that he was looking at with those cold blue eyes.

"That it is," she said, following his lead. The towering monster before her was far easier on the eyes than all that open air. He was so tall and lean, all muscle and fur. And teeth. 

He was the archetypal predator. A true alpha. It didn't take much effort to convince herself that she ought to enjoy what was about to happen. Afterwards, she could try pushing Bad Yvette aside again. Remind herself that Zach was the one who might help her hold onto some small part of herself, whereas Lance offered nothing but corruption. But not until she found out what it was like to be savaged mercilessly by the magnificent beast before her.

As he stalked slowly towards her, hunched over to stare straight into her eyes, he snarled. It was a menacing sound that almost made her doubt that it was his cock he wanted to push inside her. Yvette was paralyzed with a fear and it was a wonder that she didn't piss herself.

For the longest time, they just stood there, holding each other's gaze. Deep blue eyes met pale, colorless ones. Save for the rise and fall of their chests, neither moved. 

Then he struck her. 

His backhanded slap sent her stumbling over to the bed. Yvette collapsed onto it, pressed a hand to her cheek, and hissed. The scratches he'd given her weren't too deep, but they stung. And were bleeding profusely. The tips of her fingers had acquired a deep red coat.

Just as she was about to turn over, he slammed one hand down on her back, pressing her flat against the mattress and knocking the breath out of her. The other raked down her back, tearing through skin and fabric alike. Yvette shrieked in pain and panic. But as he tore away the remnants of her top, she felt blood rush between her legs. 

When he forced himself inside her, she nearly passed out. It hurt like nothing she'd ever felt before. But she the pain was laced with pleasure and she found herself wishing he'd take things up a notch by biting her. Sinking those sharp, yellowed fangs into her bare shoulder.

After a few hard thrusts, each of which made her gasp or grunt, he did just that.

It was glorious.

She howled in pain but nonetheless forced herself to tuck her head off to the side so he could drive the knives deeper in. Which he did. She felt a rush of endorphins flood her system as blood started streaming down her back. Even as the pain intensified, so too did the sense of euphoria. She felt queasy, lightheaded, weightless, and giddy.

His teeth withdrew. That long tongue of his lapped at her blood, leaving her skin pleasantly numb. Then he leaned all the forward, his chest pressing against the back of her head and his elbows singing into the covers at either side of her shoulders. Yvette felt so small beneath him. He covered her like a blanket. A warm, furry blanket.

Then she found out just how big he was.

It felt like he was aiming for her lungs.

Yvette cried out in agony. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her jaw began to ache from the strain of biting down so hard. But the ratio of pain to pleasure crept slowly in the right direction. She grew more and more comfortable with his massive size each time he surged forward. After a while, it felt so good she begged him to fuck her harder, even if brief flash of searing pain accompanied every thrust. Her inner walls clung to him. Squeezed him. Massaged him. And she reached down to frig her clit.

She nearly blacked out a few times, but over the course of the next hour or two, her father showed her what sex was. Real sex, not the pale imitation she'd been settling for up until then. He stretched her so wide she thought her vadge might rip open, chomped down on her calves and shoulders, and raked her back and breasts with his powerful claws. Along the way, she discovered how to bisect her mind so that she both felt and yet did not feel the pain, acquired a rudimentary ability to close wounds after they began to bleed too much, and learned how to coax her lover into orgasm more or less whenever she wanted. And she herself experienced one mind-shattering climax after another. She just couldn't stop cumming for her father. Not that she wanted to, of course.

Best of all, she borrowed an insane amount of power from him. 

More than she thought she could hold, in truth. Though that barely had an effect on him. His Libido, as she learned to call the vessels within which they stored their energy, was vast. But even if what she'd siphoned off was but a drop in the bucket to him, it was enough to fill the oceans for her. When he finally rolled off her, wearing an ordinary body for the first time in a while, Yvette felt like she might explode.

"That was great," she said, looking over at him. His eyes were closed and he taking deep, slow breaths. Her wild wolf looked unbelievably peaceful now that she'd given her body to him. "Though I think we ruined my bed."

"Can't help that I shed," Lance replied.

Yvette smiled.

She meant the rips in the covers, cotton stuffing spilling out like viscera, and all the blood stains. But that was okay. Nothing she couldn't fix. Yvette snapped her fingers and the quilt repaired itself, without either of them needing to budge.

He rested the back of his hand against her abdomen. The light, casual touch wasn't remotely sensual, but it gave her chills all the same. Guys never touched her like that after using her as a cum dumpster. If they touched her at all, it was either a playful smack or perhaps attempt to initiate another round. If she was lucky. But here Lance was, creating a small connection between them just because. And he didn't look her in the eye, seeking approval, either. Her body belonged to him, in every sense of the word, and he knew it.

"The queen doesn't want anyone to know who their real parents are," he said. "When she lets her daughters give birth, she blindfolds them. Takes the baby away the moment it's born. Doesn't let the mother hold it or anything. Won't even tell her the child's sex."

"That's terrible," Yvette said.

That wasn't quite her idea of pillow talk, but she didn't mind. If that was his way of opening up to her, she'd take it for the compliment that it was.

He gave her the smallest of shrugs. "This way, we all feel connected to each other, and to her. If some of us knew that we weren't her children but merely her grandchildren, we might feel more connected to our parents. Who might, in turn, be tempted to let us get away with things they'd never tolerate from a sibling."

"I guess," she replied. It made a certain sense. But how paranoid did that make the queen? What made the queen think that a grandchild of hers would transgress in ways that those who were unsure whether she was their mother or grandmother would not?

"What I'm trying to say," Lance said, opening his eyes at long last, "is that I can't be sure I'm your father. You might be Quincy's. He's her absolute favorite. Or Brenton's, or Harold's, or who the fuck knows." A slow smile spread across his face and he tapped two fingers against his hairy chest. "But in here, I know you're mine."

"That's sweet," she said.

"Don't you feel it?" he asked.

Yvette sighed. "I don't know what I'm feeling." Her lips curved up. "But I like it."

He snorted. "Guess that'll do."

"Would I be your first?" she asked. "If I am yours?"

Lance frowned. "No."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like there was a right answer to that," Yvette said. "Besides the truth, that is. Was just curious."

"I've given the queen four children and Lena one other," he said in an apologetic tone. "Before you, that is," he added. "Assuming you really are ours."

"Could Zach be yours?" she asked. "You said the timelines matched up with me."

Lance nodded. 

"Wow," Yvette said. "Six kids. And you don't even know who they are. That's crazy."

"I haven't been around that long," Lance said. "Quincy's fathered two dozen of her children. Most of which are long dead." He shrugged. "I might be one of 'em. Who knows."

"The dead ones?"

He gave her a wan smile. Men that handsome shouldn't be allowed to do such things. Just looking at it made her heart ache painfully. "When we're around the others, you're my sister," he said. "But so far as I'm concerned, you're my daughter."

Yvette rolled onto her side and rested a hand atop his perfect chest. He had such strong pectorals, and that thick tangle of dark hair drove her wild. She wanted to bury her face in it and savor the smell. His musk was weaker now that he'd let go of the wolfman form, but it had the same character and profile. She couldn't get enough of it.

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather call Daddy."

He grabbed her wrist. Hard. The pain momentarily blinded her. If he squeezed any tighter, her bones might crack. "Don't disappoint me," he said.

"I won't," Yvette sobbed.

"You're going to be strong like Lena. A snow leopard. Otherwise, the queen will dub you a hare, and we'll hunt you down for sport. I'll kill you myself, come to that."

"I know you will," she replied.

He relaxed his grip. "You did good back at the cabin. Better than your brother. I have faith in you. But you need to know that I won't show any mercy if you go soft."

Tears welled up in her eyes. Had she thought they were sharing a moment? That there could be anything between the two them after Bad Yvette had drank her fill and retreated to some dark corner of her mind? No, her father was a monster. Like she herself would need to be, if she wanted to fit in here. The only one she could trust, could open up to, was Zach.

If even him.

For all she knew, he'd already written her off as no different than their parents. And she couldn't even blame him if so. Not after what she'd done.

She couldn't cry. Not now. Not in front of her father, who'd just finished telling her that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if he didn't think she was cut out to be a predator. Willing her eyes dry and her voice firm, she said, "Nor should you."

He regarded her skeptically for a time, then nodded.

Lest she leave him with any doubts, Yvette summoned four lengths of chain. Two anchored themselves to the wall and two to the floor by the foot of the bed. At the opposing ends were shackles that snapped shut around her father's wrists and ankles.

"Now," she said, climbing atop him, "let me show you what I expect from you."

He smiled as she guided his length inside her. Her fist in his mouth took care of that smarmy expression though. The left hook didn't quite connect with his eye socket as it should have, but it still left a nice bruise on his cheek.

He could break free of the restraints at any time. Or fight back with invisible fists. She knew that. But she also knew that he wouldn't spoil the fun. The semblance of constraint was more than enough for both of them.

"That's my girl," he said, flashing incredibly white teeth. Flecked with blood.

"Don't just lay there," Yvette said, working her hips furiously. Even wearing a man's body, he was huge. But the right kind of huge. He hardly hurt at all. "Give me that dick!"

He did. Soon enough, his cum too. And lots of energy. That time, she didn't return the favor. Not once did she cum for him. Or bleed for him. Or cry for him.

Not until he left. Then she let the tears flow freely.

"What's wrong?" a voice asked from outside her window.

Yvette leaned back from the pillow. "Zach? What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her brother stood outside the tower, where there was nothing to stand on. Or hadn't been when last she'd looked. It would only have surprised her so much if Zach had learned how to fly since she'd last seen him, but that wasn't what accounted for his presence outside her window. No, there was now an ice bridge spanning from her tower to the next one over where there'd been nothing but empty air before. And right before her eyes, the far end of it began to melt away, erasing all evidence of his misdeed. 

"Come in, come in!" she said.

He gave her a thin smile then climbed through the window. But he asked what was wrong a second time before he'd even set foot on the ice below.

Perhaps unreasonably, that bothered her. 

Maybe it was because it seemed to imply that he thought he was entitled to an explanation for every emotion she felt. Or because it sounded too much like he thought she'd dodged the question when in fact he'd hardly given her any time to answer. It might even have activated some latent fear that he was too insecure. Most men, particularly those who could have any woman they wanted, barely paid any attention to their partner's feelings. And while Yvette hardly considered such insensitivity a virtue, she couldn't help thinking that the only reason for a guy to be so thoroughly alarmed by the sight of puffy cheeks and red eyes was because he thought he was personally responsible for her happiness and feared that if he didn't bend over backwards to keep her smiling twenty-four seven, she'd lose all interest in him. She wanted a guy who was sweet and caring and thoughtful. Or wanted to want one, anyway. But she also needed one who was confident enough to know that her problems weren't always his, and who wouldn't be afraid to tell her when she was being a big baby. That she needed to be stronger if she was going to survive Winter. Someone like their father.

Except that wasn't it. What bothered her was that she wasn't sure she wanted to answer the question, and his repetition of it made clear that she was going to have to. She didn't know what the answer was, though. Didn't know how she felt. That was the whole problem.

"I...I feel like I'm at war with myself," she explained. "And I'm losing."

The look of concern on his face was painfully earnest. She wished he wouldn't do that. Wouldn't care so damn much. What made him think she was worth it anyway? Didn't he realize by now that there was a darkness inside of her? 

"Why do you say that?" he asked, moving a little closer.

She wanted to punch him. Or have him wrap his arms around her and hold her tight while she sobbed some more. She wasn't sure which.

Why did boys have to make girls feel so complicated? And why did they have to expect a girl's feelings to be so simple, rational, and easy to explain? Just because none of them had more emotional range than a block of wood didn't mean everyone else was like that.

"Part of me thinks we made a big mistake coming here," Yvette began. She took a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "But another part of me is falling madly in love with our father and would anything he asked, no matter how terrible." The words spewed out of her mouth, as though she hoped their meaning wouldn't sink in if they poured over him too quickly.

"And that scares you," he said, veering enough towards uptalk that it almost sounded like a question. The look on his face, though, said that it wasn't. That he knew what she meant, and understood completely. Perhaps even felt the same.

"We should have killed the two of them instead of our friends," he said with a playful smile. As if he'd done any of the killing. They both knew perfectly well that there was only one monster in that room, but he seemed content to pretend otherwise.

"Probably," Yvette agreed, forcing a small grin.

Her brother, who still felt like a stranger, bent down and put a hand softly on her knee. Whether it was welcome or not, Yvette couldn't even have said. The longer it lingered, though, the more she leaned towards thinking it was.

And towards thinking he deserved to know exactly how conflicted she was.

"In the past hour, I've considered asking you to help me escape; resolved---twice---to stay, but only if you're willing to help keep me on track, since you never lost it the way I did back there; and asked myself whether I could prove I belong here by...killing you."

That last part took Zach by surprise, she knew, but he recovered quickly. His eyes went a bit wide and then he shook his head as if dismissing a strange thought that had come unbidden, but that was it. His hand never left her knee. Nor did it tighten its grip.

"I'm not kidding," she said.

"I believe you," he said with an awkward chuckle.

"Help me."

"Uh, yeah, not sure about that," he replied, standing up slowly. "I think I like me better alive, all things considered. But good luck with that."




Homelands Pt. 10 Ch. 04



Yvette sighed. "Not with that."

"I know." He ran his hands through his hair. His gloriously thick, dark hair. 

He wasn't quite as handsome as Lance, but he was handsome. There was a certain boy next door quality to him, though that description didn't quite do him justice. Not with that incredible body he had. What was wrong with her? She could be happy with him. Happy enough, anyway. She didn't need the excitement, the danger, that Lance offered. She really didn't. No matter what Bad Yvette said or how often she said it.

"It's just...that's not something I hear every day."

Yvette covered her face with her hands. "I know. I'm sorry."

"This is all a bit of a shock," Zach continued. "You, him, Lena. This fucking palace. What happened back at the cabin. Everything." He blew out his breath exasperatedly. "I don't know if I can handle it. My mind was blown to smithereens a while ago, to be honest, and I'm not sure I've quite started to put the pieces back together."

"Yeah," Yvette said. "That about sums it up."

Though he left out the whole epic-battle-between-good-and-evil-raging-inside-you thing. Good to know she was the only one experiencing that. Nice and reassuring.

"On a different note," he said, with a tone that implied he intend to let that lead-in hang in the air for a while. Indeed, a few awkward seconds stretched past before he deigned to complete the thought. "You look good. I mean, not that you didn't before. But this?" He dragged his finger up and down through the air, gesturing vaguely at her body. "I approve."

Yvette looked down at the body she'd forgotten was only covered by the sheer black cami and a pair of panties she'd created after her father left. The top didn't even hide her nipples, let alone the thick piercings decorating them. At least her underwear were more opaque. Her brother might not be able to tell that her clit was pierced too. Somehow, she didn't think he'd react to that quite the way their father had. 

Blushing, she said, "I look different?"

Zach shrugged. "Didn't, um, get a great look before. Guess I could be wrong."

"No," she said, studying herself closely. "You're right." For better or worse, she still had the same basic body shape. Perhaps even more topheavy. She hadn't turned into their incredibly perfect mother or anything. But her stomach was flatter than it had ever been, even though she was hunched over and sitting down. And thighs she'd always considered too thick were now slimmer and completely free of dimpling or cellulite. She was looking at a very familiar figure, yes, but definitely the best possible version thereof. And she...didn't hate it. "I don't remember doing that. But, then, I haven't felt entirely in control of my own decision-making for...well, quite a while. So who knows."

"Since this all began?"

"Before, honestly."

He frowned at that. She thought that might take the conversation down a path she'd rather not follow, but all he said was, "I noticed a few changes myself, but nothing dramatic."

"Such as?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Their father was huge, especially in wolfman form. Too big, really, though she figured every girl ought to experience that once. Something told her Zach would be just right though.

Her brother blushed. "Well, yeah, that." He looked away awkwardly, as uncomfortable talking about his penis as a shy seventeen year old. "But I meant more the stretch marks I no longer have from when I first started lifting, or the way my body hair's still thick in some places but has magically groomed itself elsewhere. I never invested much effort in manscaping, but you wouldn't know it now." He rubbed at his tricep, pushing the sleeve of his black T-shirt up in the process to reveal a smooth upper arm. "Mom says the bodies we wore before were illusions we didn't even know we'd adopted. To help us fit in over there. In `the Lodge' or whatever we're supposed to call it."

"No need for air quotes," Yvette said. "I know what you mean."

Zach shrugged. "Just sounds weird. Still not sure I believe this world's any more real than that one, though I guess there's no reason to be so skeptical."

"You and Mom did some talking then, did you?"

"Well. Not too much," he admitted.

Yvette smiled. She wasn't sure why. Part of her was really jealous. But another part of her couldn't help thinking he was really cute when he got nervous like that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd met a guy her age who was so shy about sex.

"It's all a bit hard to resist, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Even though we know we should," she added, retreating a little further into her bed and hoping he'd take the hint to join her atop the mattress.

He did. Though he didn't sit too close, let alone try to familiarize himself with her new and improved figure. Didn't even make a move to rid himself of all the excess clothing he was encumbered by. Heck, he barely even made eye contact with her. She could almost think he was more captivated by the view outside her tower than he was with her.

"I'm not even sure we should, actually," Zach said.

"Oh?" Yvette asked. There was a part of her that was very glad to hear him express such a sentiment. But none that wasn't surprised. "Why's that?"

Her brother shrugged. "Sounds like the queen has no use for anyone with any sort of conscience," he said, almost casually. "Either we become monsters or they kill us. Might as well throw ourselves out that window. At least it would be painless."

"You think so?"

"Moment we hit bottom, wherever that is, we'd-"

"No, I mean, you really think there's no hope if we don't become like them?"

Her father had said as much. And it had certainly sounded like he'd meant it. But somehow, she couldn't quite believe it. There had to be another way. She'd tried so hard for so long to keep Bad Yvette at bay. Could she really be better off giving it? Letting herself become all that was wrong and shameful and frightening? There was something incredibly surreal about listening to Zach, the closest thing to a normal person that could apparently be found in their fucked-up family, counseling her to do so.

"I don't know." His eyes finally left the see-through walls and turned to her. "I hope I'm wrong. But Lena made it sound like we'd be the ones lying in a pool of our own blood if we hadn't done...what we did...back there in the cabin. And I think I believe her."

Again with the "we" stuff. She appreciated it, but he did know that his hands were relatively clean, didn't he? He'd done nothing to stop her, and he'd left Curt in pretty bad shape before suffering an attack of conscience, but still. 

"We'll just have to be very convincing, then, won't we?" Yvette said.

Zach gave her a faint smile. Which was probably all the flippant comment deserved. 

They were in serious trouble. Nothing indicated that their parents were gullible, and they had to assume the queen was even more savvy. There was only one surefire way to convince Winter that their hearts were every bit as frozen as they were supposed to be.

But with her brother there, looking at her with those beautiful blue eyes, so unlike their father's despite their hue, she felt sure everything would be okay. Because it just would be.

"If I creep too close to the edge of the precipice, you'll pull me back, won't you?" Yvette asked, crawling towards Zach on all fours as she did. "And if you start to dig your feet in at the wrong moment, I'll pull you along so they don't get too suspicious."

He grunted. But when she started fumbling with his jeans, he did nothing to stop her. Even though she knew he wanted to. He might have recently added "motherfucker" to his list of accomplishments, but things were still moving too fast for him. He was willing to let his little sister set the pace though. As she knew he would be. As she needed him to be.

"We'll take care of each other," she said as she pulled his magnificent cock out into the open. It was big, really big, but not quite too big. And it was so hard, for her, that she could feel it throbbing in her palm. "Let me show you."

The moan he let out as she engulfed him was to die for.

Lena might be talented. Okay, she definitely was. Yvette had seen enough to know that. But she was no neophyte herself. And her brother was about to find out what a woman with both supernatural abilities and a pierced tongue could do.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighed, stroking her hair affectionately. "I don't know how long I can-"

Not long at all, evidently. But that was okay. She was just getting started. And it turned out that he tasted even better than their father. Sweeter, which came as no surprise. There was a slight trace of peppermint in his cream that she found absolutely delightful.

"You don't have to," Zach began. As she resumed her merciless blowjob, he gasped and jerked up straight. "Um, okay. Yeah. Just keep doing that."

That attitude was exactly why Yvette was sure everything would work out.

#

Cold blue flames suddenly danced atop the torch sconces on either side of his room, heralding Lady Winter's imminent arrival. Cahill's heart started beating faster, though whether from excitement or dread he wasn't quite sure. Her visits were always the highlight of his day, but so too were they a source of crippling guilt and unending torment.

He'd expected her to be just like Titania only worse. His days should have been filled with indescribable suffering, excessive bleeding, broken bones, and the occasional bout of dismemberment. But no. Daphne was more devious than that. She'd yet to inflict any real pain. Instead, she chose to torture him by visiting the greatest of pleasures upon him. Forcing him to hate himself for enjoying her cold embrace and thereby betraying his mother. 

Bad as all that was, and it was bad, the worst part was knowing that she'd inevitably turn things around. That the horrible things he'd expected off the bat would arrive eventually, and that she'd prove far more creative than Titania when they did. And that very knowledge caused him to savor her seduction all the more. And thus hate himself all the more.

Dark smoke seeped through the bars of his cell. As it did, the room grew colder and colder, until Cahill's lips quivered and needles stabbed his fingers. Puffs of breath appeared before his eyes and his thick fur blankets ceased functioning any better than tissue paper.

"How are we feeling today?" Lady Winter asked after solidifying.

As ever, she wore black, black, and more black. Silk gloves, leather boots, and a satin dress lined with dark fur. A few sparkling diamonds offered a bit of contrast, today in the form of a belt wrapped about her ridiculously tiny waist, but there was of course not even a spot of color anywhere below her neck. Or, Cahill suspected, in her entire wardrobe. 

As in so many other ways, that made her the polar opposite of Titania. Where the Queen of Faerie was painfully direct and utterly incapable of resisting any of her impulses, Lady Winter was mysterious. There was no telling when she'd breathe life into one's worst fears. Only that she would, in time. Her patience was legendary and her temper nonexistent. There was no hope of forcing an error by getting under her skin, as one could with Titania. Nothing to do but wait for the axe to drop.

Her one concession to chromatism was her lips. They were dark blue, as they always were here in Winter. When visiting foreign lands, where the significance of that color was not understood, she favored bright red. But here, she and her favored daughters all wore blue. That was how one knew who to fear. Her kin all had black hair, unlike most of Winter's blonde denizens, but when one saw a raven mane paired with red or pink lips, one did not tremble. Only when one saw a mouth as cold as the eyes did one's blood cool.

That, and her intense eyes. His own irises were a far lighter blue. AS were Teagan's and those of countless other fey. His sister's, a deep blue that bordered on violet, were nearly as common in Faerie. But next to Daphne's, those too seemed almost colorless. Nearly black. Where he came from, no one had eyes as vibrant as Daphne's.

"Hmm?" 

Her voice too was unlike any he'd heard. It wasn't remotely masculine, but it was far deeper than that of any other woman. Even Fiona's sounded high-pitched in comparison. When she spoke, he pictured glaciers rumbling as the ice cracked. He heard cold wind howling in the night and felt its bitter kiss deep in his bones.

"Peachy," Cahill replied.

Those dark lips shifted slowly into a mocking smile. "That reminds me. I haven't been giving you enough food. And no fruit! You must be so tired of stew by now."

Cahill grunted by way of response.

He was tempted to say that he would indeed enjoy some fruit. Strawberries, to remind him of his mother. And maybe some new flowers. Ones that weren't blue. If he was feeling really bold, he might even request a musical instrument or two so that he might fill his cell with the sound of Faerie. But he knew better. For now, she was playing nice. And her visits could be very nice indeed. But she'd only carry the act so far. None of those things would feed her Libido, after all. Besides, the way he ached for her, desperately waiting for her to appear, brought shame. Reminders of home might do the same, in some small way, but they'd also genuinely lift his spirits. At least a little. And that, she couldn't have.

That she'd explained all this to him did nothing to blunt the knife's edge. He knew what game she was playing, but he didn't know when it would end. And that was more than enough uncertainty to slowly drive him mad. To make him hate sleep, knowing that each night brought him a little bit closer to the point where dream became nightmare.

"Myself, I'm having a fabulous day," she said. "One of my daughters has just brought two of my children home. I haven't met them yet, but I can't tell you how excited I am."

"Well don't let me keep you," Cahill said.

She snickered, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of her hand. As he'd hoped she would. Damn it. He hated that he couldn't bear to see her go so soon, but he couldn't.

For the billionth time since arriving in Winter just a few days ago, Cahill wished he could access his Libido. He didn't know how Daphne had done it, but somehow she'd frozen the pool inside him. The energy was still there, and when she climbed into bed with him, it would thaw. Just enough for her to take some of it away from him. But when she was gone, he was as helpless as a newborn. Powerless as a mortal. Yet cursed with the memory of what he should be able to do. How easy it ought to be for him to escape.

"Don't be silly," she said, as she crawled on top of the bed.

It would be a stretch to say the room warmed. But the biting cold retreated. His blankets felt warm again. And his naked flesh no longer feared the open air anyway. When Daphne pulled the fur back, she found him standing at full attention.

"Mmm. That's what I've been missing."

He wanted to beg her not to say such things. To tell her that it was fine to keep him prisoner and take away his power and make him fear the passing of time, but he couldn't bear her mockery. Only he knew how ridiculous that would sound. That didn't stop him from thinking it, but there was no way he'd give voice to such nonsense.

Cold fingers wrapped around his cock, sapping precious warmth. They were so soft, though. And capable. He belonged in her hands. 

"Please," he whimpered.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I need it."

The words tasted of ash and filth and shame. But he couldn't stop them from spilling out. Those full lips of hers were so close now. He feared their touch. Yet never had needed anything so desperately.

She smiled and he died. But only a little.

Tears welled in his eyes. He would cum in her surprisingly warm mouth moments after her painfully cold lips enveloped him. The ecstasy would not last. But he still craved it. And hated himself for doing so.

Two blocks of ice closed around his member, taking his breath away. Freezing his lungs. Pleasure such as he'd never known filled him a moment later, banishing all memory of the jarring cold. And of warm spring. Of music and laughter, children and family. Even his mother, whose name he no longer knew. He tried picturing her face but saw only Daphne's.

Cahill hated her, with all his being. 

But he loved her even more.