“I... I love your scars, Kay...”
Quinn’s sex lowered to kiss against Kailey’s mouth and at this moment, she knew heaven. Her eyes closed and her tongue lapped against her lover’s sex, tasting her warmth and her flavor. It was a fierce, almost painful tang against her tongue. Going without Quinn’s pussy meant that when Kailey went down on her – or had Quinn sitting on her face – she tasted intensely enough to bring tears to Kailey’s eyes.
She drew her mouth back, gasping for air, and reveled in the closeness of the other woman’s green thighs enclosing her head. “Gods, I went without this for too long...”
“W-We, ah, made love, ah, this morning,” Quinn said, sounding bemused – and dazed and out of breath, all at once.
Kailey found a perfect rebuttal for her university educated lover.
She leaned up and dragged down in the same movement, her rough fingers digging into the pliant, giving flesh of Quinn’s ass. Her mouth pressed to Quinn’s pussy and her tongue plunged in deeply enough that Kailey felt an ache at the base of her mouth, and it still wasn’t long enough or far enough. Her nose ground against the hard nub of Quinn’s pussy, and Quinn mewled, then wailed her pleasure out. The fact they were still in the cargo hold of an enemy ship made no never mind to her.
As her back arched and her whole body jiggled, Kailey drank the nectar that flowed liberally from her cunny.
She was almost able to not hear the sound of Thaddious’ voice.
“Cap! Cap! Cap!”
Kailey withdrew her head from between Quinn’s thighs, sitting up as Quinn burbled random, incoherent sentence fragments – things like ‘oh my that...’ and ‘well, that is, uh...’
“What!?”
“Dreller is asking why we’re not putting a prize crew on this ship,” he said. “Dreller says-”
Quinn panted, softly. “Sink it...” She breathed. “The Monodeists might have riddled this thing with who knows how many magical traps.”
Kailey nodded. She had guessed as much. She sprang to her feet, then started out of the hold. She sprang up and into the sunlight and the drying blood of the deck of the ship. “Crew! We’ve got loot and we’ve got plunder and we’ve got a bastard lot of hard work to-” she scowled. “What are you snickering at, Cian!?”
One of her human crew flushed and schooled his features. “Uh...” He gestured vaguely around his face. “Got sommit on your lip, Cap’n.”
Kailey blinked.
Three
The bedroom of Liam Vanderbilt’s palace was filled with a soundscape that beggared the imagination. Moans and cries, gasps and pants, the slick contact of flesh and tongues. The drip of arousal.
Mary gasped and threw her head back, her hair slicked to sweat strands that plastered themselves to her forehead and shoulders, dark black against her crimson skin. Her skin itself gleamed as if it had been freshly oiled – the lubrication of raw lust. Her sharp fangs hooked her lower lip as she ducked her head forward, writhing her whole body. Like a snake. The motion caused her breasts to bounce and jiggle as she ground her sex against Liam’s face and his questing, oh so experienced tongue.
Mary was a lilin – and the Hierophant of Babylon. But her normal duties in navigating the complex ecclesiastical politics of a city with almost as many gods as it had guilds were left at the door. Along with most of her official outfit.
Most of it.
Her wimple – soaked as her hair – remained on her head, though the edges that were normally flush with her cheeks were in disarray and her hair had escaped from the upper fringe with her wild bucking. Meg crooned as she watched her face. But Meg was watching through slitted eyes – as she was herself riding Liam’s cock like a pro. Her legs were spread wide and she bucked herself up and down, up and down, her breasts bouncing in a wild, fast pattern compared to the more sedate writhing of her friend and fellow lover.
Liam’s hips didn’t so much thrust up into Meg as they tried to match her excitement. His cock – still the biggest, thickest, most impressive cock on Purgatory – spread Meg’s cuntlips wide and his balls slapped against her ass with every passionate thrust.
Liam’s eyes were closed and he was mentally recounting every tiny, dry factoid he had read today. Not to keep them in his mind – he had scribes for that. No, he was trying his best to keep himself from climaxing deep inside of Meg before she had-
“Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiammmm!”
-cum at least...twice more. Liam closed his eyes and coiled his tongue up to rub against Mary’s most sensitive spot. The effort paid off with a gush of the aphrodisiac that Mary’s kind secreted when aroused. Or nearby other men. Or when they breathed. Mary shuddered and her fingers pressed against Liam’s broad, muscular chest, her fingernails digging in as she kissed Meg with the wild abandon of a woman truly lost to the orgasmic pleasure flowing through her.
The two women’s tongues met and sparred, and Meg reached up to squeeze and grip Mary’s left breast, her other hand finding Liam’s and squeezing it almost hard enough to crack bone.
The moment seemed right. With one last lick, from the base of Mary’s cunt to the very top, almost teasing against the cleft of her ass, Liam let himself go. The pleasure he had been holding back only by long, long practice surged through him and his vision turned almost white. His eyes half closed and he made a rough, animalistic noise. The noise of a beast, finally finding satiation. He shuddered and came, and felt Meg’s pussy accept his seed as she continued to moan and mewl into Mary’s mouth.
The two women kept kissing as the raw passion of sex receded in slow, quivering waves. Liam himself felt utterly drained, floating on the basking pleasure of the afterglow while Mary continued to drip-feed him her nectar. He licked it up as she casually sat on his face, gasping and panting and trying to get her own self under control. Her tail lashed from side to side as she breathed heavily, then put her still gloved hand to her crucifix.
Those two elements of her outfit had been what she had first wanted to remove.
It had been Meg who had purred: Leave ‘em on. I like remembering you’re supposed to be a Christian.
Mary had stammered theological counter arguments.
Between kisses, of course.
Slowly, the two women laid beside Liam. Each of them positively dripped with sweat as they sprawled against him and let the faint breeze of the open window steal across them. Liam felt his own heat recede against that wind. Deserts got cold rapidly, but Babylon was no longer quite the desert city it had once been. Heat from the tightly packed homes, open cookfires, the factories, all of it combined with the greener and greener hills surrounding the city to leaven out the harsh shifts in temperature that made deserts so killer.
Mary slipped a red finger along his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Her dark red lips – almost black in the dim light – kissed a bead of sweat. Meg sprawled on her belly, with her rump facing him. Her head hung over the side of the bed. Liam knew that she was testing herself. He reached out to gently caress her rump. He was here for her. Meg groaned, then growled, then jerked her head up. She gasped.
“Ah, fuck...” She made a quiet, queasy motion. “O-One second!”
She scrambled out of the bed and ran off, dripping cum on the stone floor behind her.
Mary clucked her tongue softly. “No luck on curing it?”
Liam shook his head. Meg had been injured during the final brutal battle of the war. A part of her brain, the part used to help her internal balance and flight, had been wrecked. Tethis, despite doing her best, had yet to devise a cure for something so small and deeply rooted and complex. The end result was that Meg had been without the true ability to fly for the past year. Normally? Normally, it had remarkably little to do with her day to day life.
She walked, rather than flew. Some Valks sneered at her for her ‘deformity.’ But Meg remained roughly the same cheerful girl that she had been when Liam had fallen madly in love with her. She still seduced the occasional handsome lad or pretty girl she met wh
ile traveling about town. She still adored both of his children with a fierceness that made Liv’s standoffishness with Marion seem all the more unnatural by comparison.
But then there were times like this.
Where she would test herself and find herself wanting. Liam knew that she would have two moods after a wave of nausea was dealt with. He gambled that she was in the mood to be comforted.
He had never, ever, taken the bet that she had wanted to be left alone.
It was easier to leave when unwanted, then to arrive when one was absent.
Liam came to the bathroom after Meg had finished wiping her mouth down. He did know for a fact that she hated being seen to vomit. It was just something valkyrie didn’t do. But afterwards... he stepped up behind her nude body and wrapped his arms around her belly. His hands stroked her and he nuzzled against the top of her head. It still amazed him that he was taller than her. When Meg was striding through a battlefield or a palace, in her fine clothes, with her wings folded behind her like a cape?
She seemed a giantess.
“Hey,” she said, softly.
“Hello, pretty girl,” he said, grinning. “Did you know that a wicked Christian is running around your house?” His hands stroked along her thighs, then dipped forward. He teased the light tuft of her pubic feathers. “You better get on his case. He might start converting people.”
Meg snorted, grinning at herself in the silvered mirror. Another new invention – a year before, it would have been polished bronze. As it was the only thing that reminded Liam that he wasn’t back on Earth was the lack of electric lightning and the fact that the bathroom still used a chamber pot. The palace was an old building, with thick foundations and thin walls. It would be a pain in the ass to add plumbing, while the sprawling new districts of the city were being built from ground up – he had directed the plumbing to go there.
“I may just need to find this man,” she said, turning to face him. She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
Liam took her hand, squeezed it. “When I head off to Uten-Ha, I’ll ask Anubis for any embalming records for valkyrie. Maybe those, uh, procedures will help guide Tethis.”
Meg frowned, slightly. “Do you have to go?”
“Anubis said he will come over the blinking stars – I can’t possibly ask him to come without an escort. And there are no ships better than Babylonian ships.”
Meg frowned harder. “Then can I come?”
“I need someone to-”
“Take care of the babies,” she said, sighing. Muttering under her breath. “Brax is almost old enough to take care of himself.”
Liam arched an eyebrow.
Meg smiled, shyly. “I did say almost.” She shook her head slightly – then wobbled. Liam put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing her and then enfolding her in a warm hug, his back pressing against her wings. She was so warm and soft. Her feathers were perfect. He closed his eyes and he nuzzled her hair.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be heading out...”
“Before you do,” Meg murmured. “Can you do one favor for me?”
“Sure, but I thought you were still looking for a good enough dildo,” Liam said, grinning casually.
“Not that one!” Meg laughed, then turned around. She punched his chest, gently enough to barely be felt. “No. I want you to talk to Liv and Tethis before you go. I...” she sighed. “It’s not right, this rift between Liv and Tethis and Fizit. I may have hated her guts, but she’s the mother of half of your kids! And Liv’s the mother of the other half.”
“Is that really all it took for you to forgive Fizit?” Liam murmured.
“Well, that and her amazing titties,” Meg said, cheerfully.
Liam smirked. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
In the end, he didn’t get much sleep at all, even with Mary trying to be the responsible one. She was moaning the words ‘we need to get up early tomorrow!’ even during her fourth orgasm.
***
There was a single action allowed within the long disused and now more than a bit vandalized temple of Ares. The paint was peeling and the gilt was gone, the priests having fled and taken up under new gods or goddesses - those that hadn’t been driven from the city for announcing their support for Ares’ bid for monodeism. But the temple persisted.
That action?
To cut.
Livianna of Sparta stood on the central dais and glared at a flame that danced in a brazier she had lugged through the city and planted back in its rightful place. The old brazier had been beautifully decorated. This one was the cheapest she could have gotten. She put her hand on the hilt of her sword, breathed in. In. In. She breathed in memories. Memories of love and loss, of confusion and anger. Of a cold certainty. Of a single moment where she realized just how utterly, how completely outmatched she was.
Her father was Ares.
And she was going to kill him.
With that certainty, Liv drew and slashed with her sword in a single smooth motion.
The flames did not even flicker.
Liv scowled at her sword. She slammed it back into the scabbard with a clunk, then drew it again, slashing again. She put every iota of her strength and speed into it. Elven reflexes, married to the half-divine blood flowing through her veins, it should have been enough. She had heard and read and listened to reports, delivered second hand from Fizit, about her father’s new powers. They shared no theme, no connection to his old purview.
What god of war could summon a lightning storm, or be seen in two places at once?
What god of war could heal the sick, or bless the needy, or cause crops to grow with the snap of his fingers?
Liv breathed in once more.
Drew.
And once more failed to match that blinding, impossible speed of his.
Instead, all she was getting was a sore arm, shoulder, back and head. No, not just sore. An intense migraine pounded between her temples. She growled, then drew her sword again, so sloppy that even a human might have disarmed her and run her through. Might. If he had been an exceptionally good one. Fury exploded through her and she spun away from the brazier and hurled her sword as hard as she could. The bronze tip struck the wall and smashed into stone about five inches above Liam Vanderbilt’s head.
He ducked and rolled away from the cloud of debris and the quivering hilt. He came up, his hands spread wide.
“Whoa!” he yelped.
Liv blinked at him. “Fucking knock!” she snarled.
“I did!” Liam looked at the sword, then at her. “Jesus Christ, are you okay?”
Liv snorted. Sniffled, actually. She hated that she was near to tears. She wiped at her face and shook her head. “No. The one man I ever loved is dead. He was killed by my father. You’re living with the woman who tried to get one of my friends assassinated. One of your friends. Said friend also won’t talk to me because the man I love was party to said assassination attempt.” She put her hand over face, growling. “Because of all of these myriad of amazing things going on, I’m just fucking peachy!”
Liam sighed. “Uh...” He looked like he was about to mention something, but thought better of it. If it was the something or rather someone - who Liv thought it was, then he made the right choice.
“And, worst of all.” Liv jerked her hand away from her face. “Worst? You...” She clenched her jaw, then clenched her fists, then screamed out something between pain and rage as she kicked the brazier as hard as she could. Coals and bits of flaming wood clattered across the abandoned temple floor as the brazier flew through the air and rebounded off the stern face of Ares painted on the wall. The fresco was peeling, but it was still intensely satisfying to see a spiderweb of cracks filling up what had once been Ares face.
Liam paused. “Training’s not going well, is it?”
Liv snapped her head up to glare at him.
Liam had this most annoying ability to look both hang dog and hunky enough that she both felt bad for him and wanted him to stop looking hang dog. Afte
r Brax, Liam was the man that Liv would say she... liked... the most. He had defeated her, back when she had been loyal to her father. Before she had learned that her conception had been more Hellenic than she had imagined – won not through romance or even trickery but rather through force.
The then untried, barely bloodied warrior had defeated her. And what had he done?
He had held her life in his hands, as a war-slave, and he had treated her with more compassion and gentleness than her father ever had. First, she had despised him for weakness. But…
Liv shook her head.
It took loving Brax, who had been the same mix of strong and gentle, to make Liv realize how much she had indeed liked Liam.
Not loved.
Liked.
She wasn’t ready for love again. And Liam was not Brax. He didn’t have Brax’s twisting mind, nor depth of confidence. Nor, she thought, his wild side. Brax had been as savage as she was, he had simply contained his beast. Liam was all puppy, underneath the muscle and swordsman stance. But sometimes, you needed a puppy. Liv looked up at Liam and readied herself for the hardest part of training.
“I can’t do it,” she admitted. The words came from her slowly. Painfully. Like teeth being pulled. “I...I’ve been doing nothing but training for a year. And I just. Can’t. Do it.” She put her hands over her face, rubbing her palms against it.
Liam stepped closer. His hands went to her shoulders. “You know, uh, Fizit and Tethis could help. Tethis is the finest scholar I know. And we’re dealing with new kinds of magic, things that Purgatory has never seen before.” Liv snorted, loudly, sliding her hands down just enough to see his expression. Liam made a face at her. “Fine, yes, I just want you three to see eye to eye.”
“I’d see eye to eye if they stopped being such unreasonable cunts,” Liv snarled. Her nose trickled with wetness and she hated herself for almost crying.
Liam snorted. Then his eyes widened. “Liv...”
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