by Kat Quinn
Still with his digits thrusting inside me, Lin strokes under Connor’s chin until the blonde man behind me tentatively stretches forward for a kiss. Lin’s lips play a rhythm against Connor’s in time with his fingers, tongue delving between his lips with the same confidence and patience as down below. My pussy clenches hard to the same beat, the three of us making the quietest song of lovemaking that no one will ever hear. For a moment, I almost forget about the buttons, but eventually manage to slide Lin’s last clothes off, his erection springing free. The lightest sheen of pre-cum glistens at the tip as I take his hard cock in my hand, loving his stuttering breaths as I stroke to that same rhythm.
Taking back control of this slow dance, Lin uses his free hand to push against my chest, driving me down to lay squarely on top of Connor without breaking their fully engaging kiss. Feet dangling over the edge, I stifle a whimper as Lin pulls up to a stand and my pussy is suddenly emptied. I’m jerked forward on the bed until my ass is just barely supported on the mattress, stifled whimper replaced by an un-stifled gasp when Lin glides his cock deep into my slick cunt with barely a missed beat.
A wet, tangy finger is plunged into my mouth, thick with my own heady scent as it acts as a barrier against sound. Greedily, I suck that finger like the cock it could be, Lin’s dick inside me pulsing as he keeps pounding, tempo intensifying. Connor’s hands fly wildly along my flesh, one gripping tightly at a breast while the other blindly streaks across everywhere else. His hardness digs into my back, each thrust from Lin rubbing against the sensitive member, Connor’s body shuddering beneath me with every stroke.
Abandoning Connor’s wanting kiss, Lin stands up straight and slams both his hands against the top bunk, gripping the frame hard as he thrusts harder and harder into my blooming heat. Bursts of warmth expand with each motion, starting small in my center and growing until even the tips of my fingers tingle with fireworks playing against them.
My mouth can’t be trusted unsupervised, so again, I reach for the man at my back and kiss him like we’re dying and mouth-to-mouth is our only chance at salvation. It’s sloppy, neither one of us fully able to focus on staying locked together as Lin rams all three of us back and forth with force.
Eyes closed, face straining, Lin’s teeth sink into his bottom lip so hard I worry he’ll bite the thing right off and I’ll never get to kiss him again.
I’m right on the edge, no space left of me that isn’t burning up, electric and full of explosive potential. My heart thumps so hard, intergalactic tentacle beasts can hear it from their parallel dimension. When Connor’s roaming hand rubs hard against my clit, I’m done—blasted into a thousand burning pieces that flutter like ashes to the ground. Lin slams into me one more time, his eyes springing open at the same moment his head launches backwards, a strangled cry trying desperately to make itself known.
Connor still grips at my breast, kneads at my clit, writhes beneath me even after Lin’s pulled out and isn’t forcing on our friction. With weak arms, I start to try and turn over, intent on mounting my tall man and riding him like I mean it, and fuck, I’d mean it. Before I can even halfway rotate, big hands grab my waist and yank me fully off the bed.
In possibly the only moment of stealth since meeting him, Kieran appears out of nowhere and wraps my legs around him, hard cock slamming forcefully into my still pulsing pussy. Cheesy forking rice, the way he just fucking takes me is more unexpected and hot as shit than I could ever imagine. My nails dig hard into his shoulders as he bounces me on his dick, supporting both our weight while standing.
My head flings back. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lin sucking Connor’s cock, Connor’s expression just as lost in the moment as my own, one curled finger clamped tightly between his teeth to stifle any moans. Lin’s eyes are full of lust as his gaze stays focused on the euphoria melting Connor’s features, proud to be the one bringing him to the edge. Even as Kieran pounds into me mercilessly, I turn my head to watch as Connor’s stomach tenses beneath Lin’s possessive, splayed hand weighing him down. With one long, last suck, he stutters a muted cry around his clenched teeth and comes deep in Lin’s throat, not a single drop wasted as Lin greedily swallows it down.
I greedily swallow down the sight of their fucking, pussy fluttering in time with their quiet panting, Kieran’s cock thrusting through my pulsing without a hint of resistance. Fuck, I don’t know if I’ve ever been wetter than right now, watching two of my men make each other come while another pounds me hard enough that I’m really regretting not being allowed to scream. Not expecting to be even half as turned on as I am, a second orgasm explodes from my core and fizzles out the ends of my hair, taking me by surprise.
Kieran’s teeth clamp down, hard, in the crook of my neck, my pussy clamping down hard on his pulsing dick in turn. I bite my hand so roughly it nearly draws blood, the only thing I can think to do to stop from screaming my fucking brains out. Kieran bears down even harder, actually piercing the skin as a fine trickle of blood tries to trail down my chest. My mind fizzles out, completely lost in the bliss, as he pounds into me once, twice, three times more before stilling.
Despite all efforts at silence, the four of us are left blatantly panting, erratic heartbeats practically thundering in the otherwise quiet room.
Slowly, Kieran unlatches his jaw from my throat, thick tongue lapping at the prickling wounds before pecking a trail along my chin and stealing a deep, long kiss from my swollen lips. If I wasn’t already breathless, the tender way Kieran slowly lowers me back down to my feet, never letting go or breaking our kiss, may very well have taken my breath away. After such a violent and heated fucking, his gentle care afterwards means even more from its range of contrast.
Blissful, all four of us luxuriate in the post-orgasmic haze, enjoying the lingering buzz of each others’ drug.
Without warning, the door opens and Zeke steps in. “Breakfast,” he says, unfazed by the heavy scent of sex or our sweat-slicked bodies. Not bothering to turn around, Zeke walks backwards through the door and closes it once more, leaving us to drunkenly giggle as quietly as possible.
45. Monty
Luckily, despite not having an ounce of naturalism to his name, Daddy’s always been good about keeping a huge garden healthy. With the way the kids are always taught to plot the land and work the soil, he may as well be running a full-fledged farm back there. Nobody leaves here without learning how to always keep themselves fed.
Which is good, because it means they’ve got an even bigger range of goodies to choose from than I do back home, including a still-flourishing kabocha vine, which I greedily steal a few hefty squash from.
Focused on hacking away at the tough, pumpkin-like gourd, I’m jolted by the surprisingly sharp assault of a tiny foot to my shin.
“You don’t belong here. Get out, or I’ll kick you out,” a young girl says, arms crossed beneath a scowling face. Her pointed ears just barely stick out beneath a massive tangle of green and brown hair, which, despite being piled pretty high above her head, still barely puts her at my hips in height. Unless you count the dragonfly-like wings, whose tips almost reach my elbows.
Setting down the knife, I squat to her height. “Hi, I’m Monty, your big brother. I don’t think we’ve met yet,” I say, holding out my hand to shake if she wants.
She slaps it aside, stinging my palm like a honey bee with a vendetta. Her hands are tensed, like she’s ready to claw my eyes out if need be. “No you’re not, and I warned you! Get out, get out, get out!” The fiery little force of nature practically screams. Literally. Her hair goes up in an impressive tower of green flames, hot enough I can actually see the air around her head flickering like pavement at the peak of summer.
Both hands open in front of me, still squatting, I take a couple of cautionary steps back. “Hey now, hey, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. You wanna give me a chance to defend myself, or are you just going to give me the full extra-crispy without getting all the facts?” I flick a finger towards the f
ireplace mantle in the other room, “My picture’s up there, if you just want to take a look. Don’t know how long you’ve been here, but I’m their bio kid; just haven’t gotten the chance to stop by for a while, that’s all. Sorry I missed your welcome…?” I give her the chance to fill in her name.
Unfortunately, her focus on me is unflinching, and she doesn’t even pretend to glance towards the cramped collection of photographs. Instead, she pounces towards me with a roar, my only option to deflect with both forearms and hope those hands don’t claw out my eyes after all. No way I’d ever fight back against one of these kids when they mean it.
A few seconds pass, but no impact. Peeking tentatively above one arm, I see Ormaht with the feisty newcomer wildly flailing all her limbs in an attempt to escape his grip. “Stop trying to kill Monty or I’ll fling you into the sky so high you’ll have to learn how to fly the hard way. Better hope those wings are for more than show, Mirabell.” Being part ogre, Ormaht easily holds the small girl in one meaty, gray-green hand. Even if he’s comparatively small for a juvenile, he’s at least twice as tall as her and six times as wide.
Mirabell shrieks in frustration, wildly trying to free herself against her completely unmoving captor. “LET ME GO, ORMAHT!”
“Not a chance, rugrat,” he tells her. Then, to me, “Day one she sucker punched Olivia right in her eye and burned Morgan good enough that Pops had to stay home half the day.” Addressing the still-furious girl dangling by her fisted clothing, “I’m taking you to cool down until you’re ready to act decent to new people and not like a crazed wild thing.” Ormaht easily turns and heads towards the stairs, shouting over his shoulder. “Good to see you, Monty. Been too long.”
They pass Mom as she heads towards the kitchen, glancing at Zeke passed out on the couch. “Hey, kid.”Jutting her strong chin up at me in greeting as I stand, “See you met Mirabell. Real charmer, that one,” Mom says, rolling her eyes and heading right for the cups cabinet. “Looks like your friend had quite the night,” she says, eyeing one of the walls covered in a particularly dense scribble of shapes and symbols. “Had himself one heck of a party, hm?”
As if he can feel my mother’s sarcasm in his dreams, Zeke stirs, brow furrowed. “Yeah, Z can get a little… focused,” I say, picking up the knife to resume breaking down some kabocha for roasting.
Flicking the switch with a click, a big coffee pot burbles to life at Mom’s command before she leans back against the counter and crosses her bulging arms. “Mmm,” she nods, absentmindedly watching as I cut into deep green rinds, revealing vibrant orange flesh that stains the board. A few minutes pass quietly, really only punctuated by the sound of my knife cracking through tough rind, and the distant spraying of someone showering upstairs. In a house usually filled to the brim with people, the quiet is both calming and unnerving.
Mom pours herself a cup and immediately slurps the boiling hot brew, not even flinching. Her eyes close for a second as she savors the fragrant dark roast. “Don’t see any beans,” She says. “‘Bout time you spill them.”
Looking skyward, shaking my head just slightly, I root around in the cupboards for some sheet trays. “Sure, Mom, I’ll whip you up a whole bean salad. What do you want to know?”
Between roasting vegetables, toasting bagels, and making an army of omelettes, we catch up. I fill her in on Dizzy, this whole entire person she hadn’t even known about, and she fills me in about Mirabell, much the same. We talk about The Tea Kettle and Cauldron, she talks about going on a fight tour. And, as I recount David’s latest attack, she doesn’t interject; just listens and fumes. Waits for me to finish, then hounds every detail possible out of me, a burden that lessens just by sharing. At some point, Zeke wakes up and I send him off to collect everyone for breakfast, my mother brooding as she processes the threat against her children. Despite knowing she trusts Connor and myself to take care of each other, I also know she’s too fierce a protector to take any of this lying down. At least I didn’t get chewed out for holding back until now.
46. Dizzy
There’s a little green-haired girl who keeps glaring at me like an angry, drowned cat; dripping droplets all over the table as she forcefully shoves food into her mouth. A sort of blocky-looking kid keeps pointedly staring away from her every time she huddles over a bite and wordlessly dares anyone to come at her, bro.
I look around the crowded table, nobody else acknowledging the soggy terror—am I hallucinating her? Holding one hand up to my eye like it’s a telescope, I peer at her as if that’ll somehow magnify my vision to reveal the inner particles of our universe, uncovering the ultimate truth.
Nope. Just me, with my hand to my eye, looking at a wet child now snarling at my telescope hand.
“For you,” Zeke says, passing me a handful of hole-filled rocks.
“Oh. Uh. Thanks?” I accept them—don’t want to be rude, of course—but I’ve never looked at a fistful of grey pebbles and thought they were something I wanted to cherish forever and ever and ever. Which is a super long time, and even rocks break down eventually so maybe not quite that long in the end.
He holds up his arm, lined with dozens of bracelets made of tiny stones, takes one off, and peers through the hole in one of them. Giving a good gander at the goods in my grip, I realize my fistful of rocks is actually a smattering of bracelets, all made with rocks that have holes in them, separated by other shiny stones. “Hag stones,” He says. “Reveals secrets, fends off curses, and more. These are adapted to detect more of our visitors without auras.” Zeke tosses a couple of bracelets to each of us. Matching friendship bracelets for the whole family? Score!
Well, the whole family from our house, not the kids or parents or soggy hallucination in the corner. Or Kieran, who’d just lose them the first time he shifted anyway. So... like... basically all of us, with plenty of exceptions.
“They detect both life and aura.” Zeke comments, “If one is missing from the equation, the stones will rattle together to warn. Look through the holes, and you’ll see the truth.”
Just to be safe, I test that out by peeking through a rock at that damp green kid. Either this thing’s busted, or she’s real.
“She’s real,” Zeke says.
Smooth and not conspicuously at all, I turn my head upwards like I was actually just investigating the rock itself and not staring at a cranky child because everybody else was just blatantly ignoring her. Slowly, I lower my hand and slip a few bracelets on either wrist. Pretty sure I’ve got like ten of them when everyone else has one or two.
“When a hag stone absorbs a curse, it breaks. You need the most.”
I nod like I’m at an intellectual conference and the theory of everything was just explained in perfect detail. “Hmm, yes, yes, indubitably.” Throw in a ‘thinking hand on chin’ and I could practically be the queen of science!
Zeke’s lips twitch, threatening a smile but not following through on it. Holding up his own wrist, he points to a specific, completely opaque, smooth, black bead nestled amongst the rainbow of misshapen and marred others. “If needed, break this. It will send an S.O.S. to the others. The rest is mostly protection, but I also included some charms and spells.”
Rotating an arm to inspect my shiny new row of glorified charm bracelets, I’m just barely able to spot some small etching in the various colored stones; easy to miss at first because it mostly just looks like they’re erratically chipped and naturally jacked up. Turns out, it’s all just smoke and mirrors camouflage!
The only parts that don’t have any extra scratches in them are the glossy black S.O.S. beads, and the well-worn hag stones that are mostly smooth and unblemished, aside from the varying holes. If you didn’t know there was anything special about it, you’d probably think this really was some sort of middle-school craft project meant to mimic charm bracelets with bottom dollar supplies. I’ve never underestimated a bracelet before, so this is new and exciting!
“Well, that’s great and all,” Jack says, propping her chin up
on one burly fist while leaning into the table, “but that doesn’t sound to me like a plan.”
“What options do we really have here?” Monty asks, mid-bite of omelette. “Do we go back to normal life and just live in fear, anxiously waiting for the next attack like we have all month? It’s only going to drive us crazy. Aside from when he pops up and decides to wreak havoc, we don’t have a clue about where to find David or anyone he’s with.”
“We can always run,” I say. Muttering under my breath, a tiny piece of my heart chipping off and plummeting into a familiar, lonely abyss. “I could always run. He only wants me.”
“Like hell,” Kieran shouts immediately, slamming a fist down on the table, setting off a symphony of clinks and clatters.
“Love, you’ve got to stop this. You know good and well we’re quite a bit past that as a possibility.” Tilting his head down disapprovingly, Lin arches his eyebrow while speaking.
Monty holds out his hand, pinky extended. “We don’t split up. Period. You don’t run, ever.” He pauses, nose scrunching as his head weaves back and forth slightly. “Well, you don’t run because of fear or sparing us or whatever, but you can leave if you don’t want to hang out with us losers any more, your majesty.” He winks, and a tiny spark in my heart flutters, remembering the last time he and Zeke treated me like royalty—when I saved him from some jumbo-sized knives with my first ever fireball. Mmm. Sticking his arm out further, wiggling that fancy pinky, Monty waits.
