Blessed Ch. 07
A battle followed by some action.

****************

This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and the actions contained herein should not be duplicated. All characters are 18 or older. It's all pretend, folks. This one even more than usual. The magical world in which this tale takes place is more than window-dressing, but it is not the driving force of the story.

*****

The morning proceeds in its usual fashion for Grace. Her anger distracts her, causes her to make small but noticeable mistakes. Her mother gives her some searching looks after each one, and Grace tries to refocus and concentrate on her duties, but she finds it difficult. Her conversation with Belle and her jealousy towards Gabby, not to mention her frustration with Kit, prey on her mind.

She takes a break, retreating to the kitchens to check on the preparations for lunch and tries to get control of her emotions. When she returns, Serana takes her aside.

"Is everything well, my dear?" her mother asks.

Grace cannot hide the blush that adorns her cheeks. "Yes, of course," she says glibly. She hesitates as her mother watches her, saying nothing. "No," Grace says at last. "I am feeling out of sorts. The day has not proceeded in the manner I expected."

"What did you expect?"

Grace sighs. "More time with Kit. Any time at all, I suppose."

Serana nods as if that was the answer she expected. "Your brother is a young man, with a young man's appetites. Gabrielle will hardly wear him out. Besides, the day is young. You may gain his attention yet."

"Thank you, mother," Grace says, but she doesn't feel much better. Strange that she would feel so much jealousy for her sister, and nothing of the sort for their mother. Perhaps because she can handle having the second place in Kit's heart, but not the third. Or, gods forbid, even lower.

"I'm not helping, am I?" Serana says softly.

Grace looks up, blushing furiously again. It is one thing to fail her, it's quite another to make her mother feel a failure. But for some reason, Serana doesn't look displeased. Merely sympathetic, and perhaps a little sorrowful. Grace would rather have her mother's anger than her pity. She forces herself to stand straighter and looks her mother in the eye.

"The afternoon session will go more smoothly, I promise."

Serana nods. She places a hand on Grace's shoulder, a rare sign of affection from her mother. Serana's skirts swirl as she turns to go. Grace takes a few deep breaths before following.

Grace is able to concentrate better during the remainder of the morning, earning no more concerned looks from Serana. The noon meal goes by quickly. Belle is still drinking, and well on her way to becoming quite drunk, while Eva dares to ask about the absence of Kit and Gabby, and seems almost relieved to learn they will not be joining the family for lunch. Serana keeps the discussion light and frivolous, and if she disapproves of Belle's drinking or Eva's relief, she does not mention it.

Grace forces herself to eat, and forces herself to take part in the conversation. She even manages to talk to Belle as if there was nothing between them, going so far as to laugh at one of her sister's drunken japes.

After the meal, Grace feels more herself. The afternoon session proceeds in more regular fashion, and it appears that things may wrap up early for the day. Courtiers are packing up and gliding out of the throne room, making ready to return to their homes, when a young page comes scurrying into the chamber and rushes directly to Grace.

"A rider approaches from Port City," she says a little breathlessly as she curtsies.

"Just one?" Grace asks.

"One rider, four horses. A great deal of luggage, I believe, ma'am." Grace smiles and thanks the girl. The new arrival can only be Fiona. Grace feels her spirits lift slightly at the news. She and Fi always get on well, and Grace has long looked forward to seeing her sister again. It has been years. Their schedules rarely synch up, especially now that Fiona has her own fleet.

Grace informs her mother and then departs the throne room. She pauses in the entry hall, recalling the day before when she welcomed Kit home after such a long absence. She lingers for a moment, thinking of his strong arms encircling her on the dance floor, his eager and nervous smile, the way his dark hair curls and flops across his brow. She shakes herself and decides to wait outside for Fiona.

The sun is high, but the cool breeze that tosses Grace's long hair and pulls at her dress softens the afternoon warmth. Grace glides down the steps into the courtyard. Her timing is excellent, as the gate is just opening to admit the rider.

Fiona rides tall in the saddle of a chestnut mare, leading a train of three other horses laden with chests and bags and packages. She is clad in breastplate, helm, greaves, and leather skirt, all dyed a forest green. The pommel of her enormous axe looms over her right shoulder, and a triangular shield emblazoned with the gold and green crest of the Daramours hangs off her saddle.

Fiona draws to a halt a few paces from Grace and smoothly dismounts. She pulls her open-faced helm off with a laugh and approaches with arms held wide. Fiona is taller than Grace, probably taller than Kit, and almost swallows her older sister in her arms.

"By the Seafarer," Fiona says, "it's good to see you!"

"It has been too long," Grace agrees. "Welcome home. Mother is eager to see you. Belle and Eva are inside as well."

"Ah, and what of the young stallion we've come to celebrate?"

Grace can't avoid the frown. "He and Gabrielle went for a ride."

Fiona shakes her head. "I sense a story. But mayhaps later. How is your family?"

"My husband doesn't want me here, and my children are too young to understand. I miss them terribly, too. You?"

Fiona puts a companionable arm around Grace's shoulder and they begin to walk up to the house. Servants rush about them, taking charge of Fiona's horses and beginning to unload her things.

"My husband fairly kicked me out of the house," Fiona says. "I think he sees this as a summer of liberation for himself, although he can barely keep up with me, so I don't know what he thinks he'll be able to get away with. The boys are of an age where they don't want to be hanging at my skirts any longer, not that I can blame them."

"And little Kara?" Grace asks, suppressing a laugh despite herself.

Fiona rolls her eyes. "Kara is not so little any more. Indeed, she is flush with power, being promoted to the lady of the house, if only for the summer. Maybe she can keep her father in check, but maybe not. I expect we'll have a few more bastards to deal with when I return, and not just what I bring home with me."

Grace shakes her head, amused by Fiona's bluntness. "I can't imagine Rik doing anything like that. I'm not sure if I would be furious or relieved if he did."

Fiona looks at Grace askance. They are climbing the steps up to the front door. She seems about to say something, when both sisters hear a cry from the direction of the gate. Both turn quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace sees Fiona reach automatically for her weapon.

Another rider comes pounding into the courtyard, astride an exhausted and foam-streaked horse. Grace realizes with a start that it is Gabby. Alone. She feels a sudden stab of fear. She rushes down the steps, shoes clattering on the cobbles of the courtyard.

Fiona is at her side as Gabby slides from the back of her horse, and is there to catch her when the younger woman stumbles. "Reavers," Gabby manages to gasp out. "Punting."

Fiona bristles. She is already looking for her horse and passing the gasping Gabby into Grace's arms. The girl is clearly distraught, and though her expression does little to calm Grace's own beating heart and mostly answers her questions, Grace gives voice to them anyway. "Gabby, where is Kit?"

"Punting," she says. "He rode off on his own. I couldn't have stopped him. I rushed as quickly as I could, but-"

Fiona and Grace share a look. Some of what Grace is feeling must show on her face, because Fiona offers her a reassuring smile before bounding wordlessly away. She vaults into the saddle of her horse in one smooth movement, scattering servants and knocking over boxes. A dagger at her hip is unsheathed, slashing through the rope that ties it to the baggage train, and within moments Fiona is thundering out of the courtyard, heading for Punting.

And their little brother.

Grace steadies Gabby. "Mother needs to know," she says. Gabby agrees, and the two of them hurry up the stairs and into the mansion. Grace tries in vain to quell her fears. Kit is a full-blooded Blessed, fresh from the Academy, but Reavers are among the deadliest creatures on the seas.

Grace feels a bone-numbing coldness descend upon her.

*

An osprey flies far overhead, wings outstretched to catch the wind, far removed from the blood and chaos on the ground. The bird floats at the edge of Kit's extended perception. All around him are larger, healthier, more robust heartbeats. Thirty Reavers in total, a little over twice that number of villagers, cowering in fear or lying in pools of their own blood, as life drips out of them.

One against thirty. Were Kit a normal man, he would be doomed. But he is Blessed, and thirty, even thirty Reavers, touched by the madness of old magic, are little match for him. He knows this in his bones. His muscles swell with power, his blood pounds in his ears, and the sword is a live thing in his hand, darting out to taste flesh.

They try to surround him at first, twisted mockeries of the human form. Scales and tentacles and bulging eyes and bits of shell and coral, bodies warped into inhuman shapes. They try to use their numbers, close him in, slow down or block his sword arm.

But he is fast and strong, burning with power, his body aglow with eldritch light. He knocks one Reaver aside, decapitates another, and cleaves the skull of a third, all in the span of heartbeats. They fall back, switching to pikes and nets, hoping to trap him or keep him at bay.

They can barely slow him. A spray of blood, hot and salty, decorates his face and chest as he separates an arm from a shoulder, spins out of the way of a falling cleaver, and drives the point of his blade up and through an attacker's ribs, killing him instantly.

Kit feels a pulse of magical energy emanating from the docks, some Reaver sorcerer or witch calling upon fell powers. He cannot let that continue. Kit pushes and slashes his way through the press of raiders and hurries down the main thoroughfare of Punting, boots slamming into the hardpacked earth beneath his feet. He sees a huge Reaver with a humped and finned back standing atop the pilings, arms outstretched, the shark-toothed mouths in his palms raised to the sky. Energy crackles over the Reaver's head.

Kit takes two steps towards the witch, sparing a glance at the horde of raiders rushing after him in his footsteps, and snaps his wrist forward. The sword flies from his hand, spinning like a coin, and shears the witch in half. The spell rebounds, unleashing a torrent of lightning and hail on the piling, shattering stone and wood.

The sword flies back into Kit's hand, slapping against his naked palm, and he is already raising his arm to parry a two-handed slash from an axe-wielding, crab-faced creature. Kit twists with practiced ease and the axe goes spinning, leaving the crab wide open. Kit cuts it down and backpedals quickly as the other Reavers swarm around him.

Kit's vision starts to get red at the edges. He is burning off a great deal of energy; first the horse, then his own reflexes and senses, and then the trick with the sword. He's never used this much all at once. He doesn't have much time before he burns his reservoir out, and then it will be hours before it can recover itself. There are still a lot of Reavers left.

He cuts down two more and throws a rack of nets down, tripping another four. He spins and races down an alley, skidding and turning to face them once more, hoping that the narrow lane will let him conserve some power.

Suddenly the sky opens up. A beam of golden light descends into the midst of the village, coalescing into the towering form of Serana Daramour, wearing a high necked green and gold dress that swirls around her legs.

Kit feels new strength surge into his limbs at the sight. He springs forward, disemboweling a Reaver and throwing another back. He presses his attack, fighting to get to Serana. The Reavers are momentarily stunned, but quickly master themselves, hefting their weapons and splitting their attention between son and mother.

They have no chance.

Skirls of green flame encircle Serana, and the Reavers poised to attack flinch backward, skin blackened by the heat. She gestures, and five of them are flung high into the sky, falling to their deaths onto the open sea. Hands of earth and stone erupt beneath the feet of others, wrapping around their legs and pulling them down to the ground, where they are viciously torn apart. Sheets of flame erupt from Serana's hand, turning Reavers to husks of carbon and ash.

Those that try to flee taste Kit's blade. He cuts them down without remorse.

When they are all dead, Serana lets her flame shield drop and strides towards the beach. In the distance, the Reaver ship is raising its sail, hoping to escape. Grimly, Serana brings up a hand, palm outward, and a green ball of light flashes from her in a straight line across the waves. When it reaches the ship, the ball explodes in a wave of green fire that encompasses the craft from stern to prow.

Serana gestures with her other hand, and enormous golden sharks appear in the water, swimming rapidly towards the flaming ship to finish off any Reaver who escaped the fire by diving into the water.

Finally, Serana turns to Kit. Her face is a cold mask, showing no emotion. "You are covered in blood."

"None of it mine," Kit says. His voice shakes but a little. He releases the power within him, feeling his limbs go weaker with both the loss of it and the adrenaline. The sword is suddenly very heavy in his hand. He is crashing. Hard.

Serana nods. "How are you at healing?"

"Fair," Kit says. He is a bit confused. He expected his mother to be warmer. Or warm at all, but she is all business, sparing little attention for him.

"There are people who need our attention. Go, clean yourself in the sea, and help me attend them. Our soldiers will be here soon, but some of the wounded may not live that long." Serana's skirts swirl as she marches past her son, calling out to the people of the village who are in hiding or worse.

Kit admires her for a moment. She is staggeringly beautiful, immensely powerful, and easily in command of any situation. But he also feels a little forgotten, a little ignored. Kit marches to the beach, beginning to fume. He uses sand and water to scrub the blood off his face and chest. The crimson stains on his pants and boots prove more resilient, but soaking the clothing in the cold sea water at least mitigates the staining somewhat.

He returns to the village, sodden and dripping, feet squelching in his boots, to find a makeshift hospital being set up in the public house. Serana holds court, directing the able bodied villagers to arrange the wounded and dying in the order of greatest need. She spares a glance at Kit as he enters the room, and with a gesture, directs him to assist those with minor wounds.

Kit sets to. He summons power, and with glowing hands begins to knit broken bones and close open wounds. From the other side of the room, he feels the flare of his mother's energy as she works similarly.

The next few hours blur together. As the shadows lengthen and the interior of the public house darkens, Kit and Serana strain to heal the stricken. It is taxing work. In the quiet moments between patients, Kit reflects that the power of the Blessed is more easily turned towards destruction than to repair. It takes greater concentration and focus, as well as knowledge of anatomy, to put together what was taken apart. He wonders why this should be, and further wonders why this is just occurring to him now.

At some point during the proceedings, Kit's sister Fiona arrives, trailed by a contingent of soldiers in Daramour livery. They set up details to dispose of the Reaver bodies, bury the dead villagers, and repair damaged property.

When Kit can do no more and the rest of the work is left to Serana, Kit slides exhausted out of the building and collapses onto a bench. Someone passes a bottle into his hand, and Kit takes it gratefully, swallowing the bitter liquid it contains with relish. Looking up to give thanks, Kit finds the smiling green eyes of his sister, Fiona.

Tall and broad shouldered, Fiona wears her armor well. Her bare arms and legs are smoothly muscled, feminine but still powerful. There are callouses on her long fingered hands that come from wielding the huge battle axe she wears across her back, but Kit has similar marks on his own hands. She has the thick eyebrows and full lips of the Daramour clan, but her light brown hair, long and piled up on top of her head to accommodate a helm, comes from their father. Her locks are sun bleached, almost blonde, and matted with sweat.

Fiona's full lips twist into a smile that quickly broadens, showing neat even teeth. "How ya doin', kid?"

"Alright, I guess," Kit says. "When did you get in?"

"I made the mansion a few hours ago, and Gabby came galloping up immediately after. I rode for Punting but got here long after all the action was over." She looks around, taking in the bodies of the Reavers that the soldiers are removing. "You acquitted yourself rather well, Kit."

Kit sips his wine. "Thanks." He grimaces, realizing how sullen his response sounds. "I'm just exhausted," he says. "Healing takes a lot out of me."

"So I'm told." Fiona settles down on the bench beside him, armor creaking. "Sometimes I'm glad I don't have the gifts that you and mother possess." She looks at the field of battle once more. "Although they do come in handy now and again."

"You've fought Reavers before?" Kit asks.

"All the time. Nasty bunch. They don't always know when they're beaten. Or killed. They're worse on ship than on land. Some kind of connection to the sea, makes them stronger and faster."

A shadow passes over the two of them. Kit looks up and into the eyes of his mother. She looks untouched by the strain of healing, save for a slight darkening around her eyes. Kit, despite himself, sits up straighter, and is suddenly conscious of the bottle of wine he is sipping.

"Fiona," Serana says, "look after things here. When you are satisfied that all is well, return to the mansion."

"Aye, ma'am," Fiona says, climbing to her feet. "And the kid?"

Serana's eyes flicker to her son. "He will come home with me." She extends her hand and despite himself, Kit takes it, allowing her to pull him to his feet. Her eyes glow green for a split second and then the world around them warps, flickering in and out of Kit's vision. Golden light washes over him, blinding him momentarily, but throughout he feels the warmth of his mother's hand.

When the light fades and vision returns, he finds himself blinking with tears, standing in the middle of Serana's apartments in the mansion. He looks up into her green eyes again. They watch him critically for a moment. Kit steps back, frowning. He hopes that she knows his tears are merely a reaction to the light, and not emotional in nature.

He is surprised as his mother's face softens, and warmth bleeds into her eyes. She reaches out and gathers him up and pulls him close to her generous bosom. "Oh my darling boy, I am so happy that you are alright," she says. Her voice trembles a bit, but her arms hold him unwaveringly. "When I saw you covered in blood, I feared the worst. But you did an admirable job against them."

Kit is momentarily at a loss. "You looked so angry with me," he manages to say. His arms have come up to wrap around his mother, holding her close.

"I'm sorry for my brusqueness. You must understand, we all have our roles to play. And out there mine was to be the provincial governor, the living representative of the Empire." She sighs, releasing him a bit so that she can look him in the eyes once more. "Only here, within this mansion, may I be your mother, your lover, your... your friend. Out there I must be your ruler."

She kisses him lightly on the lips, ignoring her verbal stumble and giving him no chance to say anything about it. "And it was very hard to do. You made me very proud today, Kit. It took all I had not to take you into my arms as soon as the fighting was done."

Kit feels his cheeks burn. "You were magnificent, mother. You handled them so easily. And then you healed all those people." Kit's heart swells in his breast. Relief, pride, and love fill him near to bursting.

"A benefit of a long life and a deep reserve of power. Gods willing, you will surpass me one day." Serana leans down and kisses him fiercely, her tongue invading his mouth, dueling with his own.

They break away, each gasping. "You are exhausted," Serana says. "I can feel the ebb of your power. You need rest. And I need to take care of a few things before I can return to you. Not least, I must assure Grace and Gabrielle that you are well." Serana gives him an appraising look. "Grace was quite stricken at the news that Gabrielle brought, and the poor girl was distraught herself."

"Let me talk to them," Kit says.

Serana's lips brush his. "Such a loving brother. But no, you are mine for the rest of the day and night." She laughs and adds, "I claim my right as your mother and your ruler. Besides, you really do need rest. Your stubborn heart will not admit it, but you are close to collapsing."

"I am fine, mother," Kit says, which earns him another tinkling laugh.

"You see?" She caresses his cheek and kisses him again. "Go. Bathe yourself, relax, use the bed. I will return shortly. I must be the ruler for a little longer, before I can be mother and lover again."

And what else? Kit wonders, but does not speak. Instead he nods, knowing that refusing Serana's wishes is a waste of breath. She clasps his hands tightly, smiling brightly, and then she is gone.

In her absence, a bone crushing weariness descends upon Kit. Perhaps she was right, he admits to himself. He shuffles over to a divan, kicks of his boots, unbelts his sword, and collapses. His muscles ache and his brain aches. He has pushed himself to his limits and beyond, and now he is paying the price. He rolls over, closes his eyes, and is soon asleep.

*

Kit awakes slowly, pulled out of slumber by the aromas of cooking meat, spices, and freshly cut citrus. He rises from the divan, shaking the fog of sleep from his mind. His hand automatically finds the hilt of his sword, but leaves the blade where it rests as he rises and crosses the room.

One of the side chambers in his mother's apartments proves to be a kitchen, with a stove and a well-stocked pantry. Serana glides around the room, throwing ingredients into bubbling pots, dicing up vegetables, checking the oven. Her long dark hair is loosely tied back from her face with a green ribbon, and she wears a modest peasant blouse and skirt, her feet unclad.

She doesn't look up from her preparations as she acknowledges his presence in the doorway. "Did you have a nice nap, dear?"

"I'm not sure," Kit says.

This pulls her attention away from the stove, brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I must still be dreaming. Or is the great Serana Daramour actually cooking her own meal?"

She flicks a slice of carrot at him, which he catches deftly and pops into his mouth. "I had a life before the mansion, you know," Serana says. "Besides, I like to cook. I always have. I still cook for myself on occasion, and tonight, I am cooking for my youngest and most ungrateful son."

"I'm not ungrateful, just surprised."

She makes a noncommittal sound, as if she doesn't really believe him. Kit shuffles into the kitchen and comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her midsection and standing on tiptoes to put his head on her shoulder. She purrs, hands busy with food preparation.

"Dinner will be ready in a while. Long enough time for you to bathe properly. You still reek of blood and salt, my sweet."

Self-conscious, Kit abruptly releases her, but she turns almost as quickly and grabs him up into a tight embrace that pushes her large breasts into his chest. "You really do take things much too seriously, Kit," she says. She kisses him fiercely, then pushes him gently away. "Go wash up."

He laughs lightly, thinks about saying something, but nothing comes to him. The pause lengthens, and before it can become too awkward, Kit gives his mother a light kiss on the lips and leaves to find the bath.

The bathing room is located just off of the bedroom, it turns out. It is much bigger than the one in Kit's suite, with a similar deep central basin, but also a secondary single person tub tucked into the corner, as well as a number of other stations and devices. Kit starts the water running in the small tub and peels off his salt-encrusted and blood stained paints. He realizes that he doesn't have any other clothing available, but figures that won't be an issue.

He releases a groan as he slides his aching body into the water. While Kit received considerable training in the healing arts, he has never before been called upon to use them so extensively and completely. He can feel the effort of it in his bones. The steaming hot water mitigates it somewhat, and a good meal will help as well. Of course, he is now aware that some good sex will boost him, too. He is particularly looking forward to that part of the evening.

As if on cue, the bathroom door opens, and Serana steps barefoot into the room. She smiles widely and glides across the tiles to the side of the tub.

"What about dinner?" Kit asks.

"It will keep," Serana says softly, kneeling beside the tub. She reaches up and brushes a curling lock across Kit's forehead. "Besides," she adds, reaching for a cloth and soap, "I like washing you."

Serana's light touch glides across Kit's muscular arms and shoulders, soaping him up, washing away grime and aches. She hums softly as she washes him, a wordless lullaby that, combined with her ministrations, lulls Kit into a comfortable daze. He rests back against the tub, laying his head down and watching her through half lidded eyes. He admires the way her heavy breasts sway and bob in her loose blouse, the way her cleavage flashes him constantly, peeking out from the low cut top.

The thick column between Kit's legs begins to harden almost immediately, climbing up into a tower of iron hard flesh by the time his mother's hands brush across his pectoral muscles. Her full lips curl up into a smirk, and Kit cannot help smiling in response. He shrugs, unapologetic.

The soapy cloth washes across Kit's well-defined abdominals. With a cheeky grin, Serana pokes his belly button with the cloth, causing him to sit up slightly. And then she drops the cloth into the tub and wraps a long-fingered hand around his hardness. She squeezes lightly and a dollop of precum appears at the tip. With a soapy hand she levers his cock straight upward, so that it stands perpendicular to his crotch, a thick throbbing slab of muscle, soft and silky to the touch, a fine tracery of veins beneath his flushed skin. The dark purple head weeps precum as his mother continues to lightly squeeze.

Serana leans over the edge of the tub, her mouth finding her son's, her tongue stabbing past his lips to duel with his. Kit groans into her kiss as he feels her strong, soapy hand begin to glide up and down his pulsing length. Kit reaches up, water sluicing off his arms, to grab her and pull her into the tub with him, but Serana demurs with a hand placed against his broad chest.

"Just lie back," she says softly. "Let me do this for you."

"Won't that be a bit of a waste," he says, breath hitching a little as his mother expertly works his cock.

"Mmm, it might be," she says, still whispering, "if you were a mortal man. But I know how quickly you can recover, and how quickly this beautiful sack of yours fills up again." Serana's hand makes schlicking sounds as it sweeps up and down the hard column of flesh, coating Kit's length in suds and precum, as she increases her speed.

"Besides," she adds with a wicked grin and a girlish giggle, "I want to see your seed as it spills from your big cock. I want to feel you pulse in the palm of my hand and start spraying. I want to watch you climax from your own mother's hand, for no other reason than that your mother wants you to feel good."

Kit's breath comes in short gasps and his hips churn the shallow water as he fucks his cock into his mother's fist. Her other hand grips him, one atop the other, holding him and sliding up and down his length, coaxing his precious spend from deep within him. Her words are almost as effective as her manual ministrations.

Kit feels the charge building at the base of his cock. "Mother," he gasps. His cock thickens between her hands, throbbing and pulsing with need, and his balls contract, tightening up against him as a thick rope of pearlescent goo erupts from the angry cockhead and shoots straight up, several feet in the air. The next rope explodes outward even as the first splatters across Serana's wrists. She moans, opening her mouth and aiming her son's erupting cock towards her. The next few pulses fire across the intervening space to splatter wetly against her chin and lips and cheeks. Serana shudders and moans, her hands still gliding up and down Kit's cock, urging more of the precious fluid from him. Semen sprays against her throat and decorates her cleavage, leaving shining trails across her blouse.

Kit lies back gasping and catching his breath. Serana watches him, a sultry smile on her full, cum-speckled lips. Her long pink tongue slides across those lips, sweeping her son's cum into her mouth. She drags her thumb across a cheek, scraping Kit's seed onto her digit, then feeds that between her lips as well. As if noticing for the first time, her eyes widen at the expanse of semen across her hands and wrists. Her agile tongue darts out to lick those deposits, scooping them into her mouth with a satisfied purr.

Kit watches and as his breathing comes back to normal, his slightly softened cock straightens back into a steel-hard column. With a growl, Kit reaches up to grab his mother once again, this time successfully pulling her into the tub with him. She shrieks but doesn't fight him, although she could easily break out of his hold.

The water splashes as she slides into the tub, soaking into her skirt and the bottom of her blouse. Serana laughs lightly, amused by her son's arousal and animal urgency. She reaches for the sodden hem of her blouse and peels it up and over her head, throwing it wetly to the floor. Her enormous tits bounce in Kit's face, pink nipples thickened and turning red as they harden.

With his hands on his mother's waist, Kit buries his face between her heaving breasts, luxuriating in the feel of her silky skin against his cheeks. Serana presses her hands against the back of his head, pushing him into her chest. Her thighs straddle him beneath her skirt, which balloons over the water, deflating gradually as it soaks.

Kit kisses her sternum, then each breast. He drags his tongue along the inner slope of her right tit, making circles around its expanse, wider at first but gradually smaller, winding down until his lips fasten onto her nipple. Serana gasps. Kit suckles gently, using lips and teeth and tongue. Serana's hips move involuntarily. Water sloshes against the side of the tub.

Serana reaches behind herself. Kit hears the tearing of fabric, and then he sees his mother pull her skirt free and toss the sodden garment to the floor. She hovers over Kit's legs, kneeling in the water. He looks down between the valley of her breasts at her smooth belly and the juncture of her thighs.

Gently she pushes him away from her breasts. Kit lies back in the cooling water without complaint, looking up admiringly at his goddess mother's flawless curves. She smiles down at him with motherly pride and lust. His cock lies against his stomach, hard and long, stretching past his belly button, the head swollen with need and already leaking again.

Serana places her long fingered hands, palm flat, upon Kit's broad chest. The V formed by her arms squeezes her enormous tits together and thrusts them prominently forward. Kit licks his lips.

Serana's hips move slowly, lowering her down onto Kit's lap. He feels her moist, flushed pussy lips touch the underside of his cock. With a grin, Serana begins to slide back and forth on her knees, causing her pussy to glide along the length of her son's massive girth. Her juices slicken his length while her lips nip at his exposed flesh. Kit flexes involuntarily as her pussy kisses his cockhead. Her lips part and Serana gasps.

"Darling boy," she whispers huskily. "How much longer can you wait?"

Kit blinks. He grabs his mother's hips and lifts her up. Laughing, she slides her hands across the hard planes of his abdomen to loop around his hardness and pull it away from his stomach. She fits the head against her weeping lips and it lets go. Serana drops completely down upon her son, swallowing his engorged prick in one smooth movement that has her loudly crying out.

Serana's hands slam down against his chest once more. Her sugar-walls contract around Kit's invading girth, tightening and caressing. Her heat and slickness surround him. With a lusty smile of his own, Kit wraps his hands around his mother's waist once more and begins to thrust up into her.

Huge breasts bouncing enticingly, Serana braces herself against the walls of the tub as her son plunders her pussy. He hammers up into her again and again, her engorged pussy lips widening as he bottoms out inside her. Her inner muscles contract, wanting to keep him still, to enjoy the fullness of him, but relenting as he retreats so that he can slam home once more.

Her hair is wild cloud of black around her shoulders. Sweat beads on her forehead. The water in the tub sloshes, coating the lovers and the floor. A heat is building between them as Serana's climax climbs and climbs. The water begins to bubble and seethe.

Serana throws her head back and cries out as a delicious, explosive warmth envelopes her. Her limbs shake and her body tightens as her son brings her to orgasm. She feels her fluids gushing out, inundating him, making her insides slicker for him, easier to penetrate, easier to hammer home.

Kit is grunting, face contorted into a lustful grimace, as he holds his mother by the hips and drives his cock up and up and up. He is almost surprised that he didn't come when she did, but he is grateful for the opportunity to bring her more pleasure. He begins to alter his speed and his angle slightly, and begins to flex his cock each time he bottoms out inside her, swelling his thickness further. It doesn't take long for Serana to convulse again as another intense climax shudders through her.

When she regains her breath, her head lolls on her beautiful shoulders, sweat dampened curls sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her hands snake out to grip his shoulders and her hips begin to move, driving downward, meeting Kit stroke for stroke.

There is not much water left in the tub. What remains begins to flow up their bodies, washing across their hammering frames and soaking into their skin. Lights begin to pulse in the room, flickering and blinking about.

Kit begins to feel that itch at the base of his cock. His fingers whiten as he grips his mother tighter and fucks up into her with redoubled speed. Serana moans and slams her hips down faster to meet him, bending over, her breasts swaying above his face. Kit finds a nipple with his lips and suckles just as he slams home and feels the pressure in his cock loose.

Kit's balls contract like fists. A torrent of thick, viscous sperm-laden semen roars up his cum tube and explodes deep inside his mother. Rope after rope is expelled from his constricting cock, filling her near to bursting as he empties his potent seed into her receptive womb. Serana shakes with each impact, mini-orgasms triggering each time her son spits out a ribbon of pearly jism into her depths. Her toes curl and her hands grip his shoulders tight enough to make his bones creak.

The remaining water turns to steam, coiling around them, leaving a fine layer of heated mist upon their naked bodies as they collapse together, momentarily sated.

Serana kisses Kit on the lips and cheeks and on his eyelids. "Darling boy," she says breathlessly.

"Mother," is all Kit can gasp.

*

They eat dinner on the balcony, at a table of glass and iron. Serana wheels the food and drink out on a cart herself, clad in a long green robe that molds to her shape admirably. Kit himself wears one in dark blue, and nothing else.

The food is good. Kit is quick to compliment his mother on her culinary skill, and surprises even himself at how much of it he devours.

Serana eats more leisurely, but clearly pleased that her efforts are being appreciated. She sips at her wine and runs her bare foot up along her son's calf. They talk, more like a mother and son catching up after a decade apart than lovers. Serana has not been to the Scarlet City in centuries, but she still knows many of the personages there and remains familiar with the neighborhoods and flavors of the city.

She reminisces about her visits to the Imperial capital and of her own time at the Academy. Not much has changed, it turns out, and Kit laughs with recognition at more than a few points.

Not for the first time, Kit realizes he has more in common with this woman than other being in the universe. He feels his heart swell as he looks at her, pealing an orange apart with delicacy, knowing that she gave him life and purpose and now shares the greatest of intimacies with him. He loves her, he realizes, more than he can articulate.

But he tries anyway. "Mother," he says, his voice catching a little, "I love you."

She looks up from her fruit and smiles widely, showing her dimples. Her eyes flash with pleasure. "Darling boy," she says, "I love you too."

Kit leans across the table and Serana meets him halfway, her full lips already parted. They kiss passionately, tongues dueling lightly, Kit's eyes closed and his hand reaching up to caress her cheek.

They part and Kit sits back, pleased with himself, while Serana's cheeks flush and her eyes flicker with light. "I think dinner is over, dear. Shall we retire to the bedchamber?"

Kit stands quickly, grinning. Serana glides to her feet and snaps her fingers. Ghostly figures manifest behind her, gliding forward to clear away the dishes and uneaten food. Serana reaches out a hand, Kit takes it, and they step inside.

*

She comes to him in white.

Kit lays across his mother's bed, the robe discarded, clad in nothing. His cock is already thickening as she enters the room.

Serana wears a filmy nightgown, knotted loosely just beneath her huge breasts, which are only partially hidden by the diaphanous material. As she moves, her tits shift and bounce, and the nightgown swirls around, showing off rather than concealing her perfect form. A strip of ruffled white fabric encircles her narrow waist, a garter belt, tied by thin ribbons to the tops of her sleek white stockings which mold to her muscular legs like a second skin. An abbreviated pair of panties, pulled tight against her mound, lies over the tapes. A pair of high platform shoes raise her considerable height slightly higher, while also throwing into definition her calves and thighs. Beneath the gown, almost hidden, is her perfect, flawless ass.

Serana glides easily on her heels, throwing a little emphasis in her hips as she approaches the foot of the bed. Kit hardens almost immediately, blood rushing to his cock, making it thicken and rise from between his legs. The head is flushed and purple, flaring and throbbing as he takes in the awesome sight of his goddess-like mother.

Serana begins a sinuous dance around the room, pirouetting on her toes, swinging her hips, causing the filmy gown to swirl around. Her pendulous breasts sway and shake with each exaggerated movement, her large pink nipples tenting the thin fabric noticeably. As she moves, her hands make patterns in the air, flickering lights announcing the formation of wards. Strategically placed candles all around the room flare to life as well, as the glowstones slowly dim, leaving the room lit only by candlelight.

Kit watches avidly, enjoying not only the graceful dance in and of itself, but the economy of her magic. The candles add a romantic light to the room, while the wards will ensure that they don't accidentally wreck everything during their love-making.

At some point, the ribbon tying her gown together is pulled, and she slowly slides the garment off her shoulders. She pauses at the foot of the bed once more, green eyes smoldering with eldritch light. With a shrug, the gown falls to the floor, revealing her magnificent breasts and gorgeous form.

Kit springs from the bed, landing lightly beside her. Serana is momentarily startled but her surprise quickly turns to delight as Kit grasps her by her slim waist and lifts her into the air. Serana shrieks like a girl as Kit throws her gently on to the bed with a growl.

He catches one muscular, silk clad leg and runs his hand along it until he reaches her ankle. With a few deft movements, he unlaces her heeled shoe and tosses it over his shoulder. She smiles at him and wiggles her dainty toes. Impulsively, Kit grips her foot and plants a kiss on her largest toe.

The other foot lands on his shoulder. Kit reaches up and repeats his earlier movement, removing the shoe and tossing it aside. He rests the remaining leg against his other shoulder and moves up onto the bed. With his hands now free, Kit reaches for the thin white panties, already showing signs of dampness. He can see the impression of her lips against the fabric, and it makes his mouth water.

His fingers reach under the waistband and tug. Serana raises her plush bottom and stretches her legs, allowing her son to pull her panties free in moments. She giggles once more like a girl and settles her stocking-clad calves on his broad shoulders once more.

Kit looks down at his mother, laid out on her bed like a banquet, and marvels once more at the fact that he has been chosen to love this woman, so intimately, so physically, so fiercely. His cock throbs with hunger, but he has another craving to satisfy first.

Kit lowers himself, feeling his mother's long legs slide along his shoulders, her stockings whispering across his skin. He catches the scent of her arousal as he draws closer, sees the moisture decorating her lips. With a salacious grin, he closes the gap, purses his lips, and blows softly across her pussy. Serana shivers beneath him. He feels a hand on the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair caressingly.

She mewls softly as Kit buries his head between her legs. His head swims, as much from her intoxicating aroma as from the fact that he is doing this with his own mother. Even after all that has come before, this fact still amazes him.

Kit's long tongue extends and he drags it across his mother's moistened gash. Her powerful thighs close around his ears, muffling her sounds, as he goes to work. He licks and nibbles and sucks. His tongue dives into her, parting her pink folds, teasing her soaking, steaming interior. His teeth nip her meaty lips. His lips tease the hot little nubbin of her clit.

His mother's fluids flood his mouth, stain his lips, and run down his chin as Kit devours her. She writhes and moans beneath him, pressing gently but firmly on the back of his head with both hands. Kit's own hands roam along his mother's legs and beneath them, to cup and knead her broad, muscular ass as it clenches and unclenches with lust. Her hips drive her needy pussy up into his face. Her hand guides him around her divine opening, urging him to attack her clit then pulling him away as it gets too sensitive, then forcing him back again when his tongue, coiling inside her, drives her wild.

In short order he is rewarded with her first orgasm. The candles flicker. Energy explodes out of her, even as her fluids gush and fill his mouth. The energy washes through Kit and into the room, rebounds off the wards, and is absorbed once again by the lovers. Kit feels strength surge through his frame, feels his cock growing thicker and harder between his legs. A river of precum weeps from the head and stains the sheets.

He grips his mother's ass cheeks in both hands and thrusts his tongue deep in her pussy hole. He slurps and sucks, swallowing her nectar like ambrosia. Serana is beginning to keen. She pulls his head away from her weeping pussy momentarily, adjusts him slightly, and then mashes herself against his lips again, this time with her clit pressed directly against his upper lip. He captures her sensitive flesh with his mouth and sucks and nibbles gently, eagerly, relentlessly.

Energy crashes into him like a wave. On the bed, Serana arches her back, thrusting her pelvis into her son's face. Her big breasts wobble on her chest, engorged nipples pointing at the ceiling. Her head is thrown backward, long hair a dark cloud around her, mouth agape in silent scream, tears of lust filling her eyes.

"Cock," she manages to spit out. Her thighs drop from Kit's head and she reaches down, almost clawing at his naked back. "Need your cock," she says, driven nearly mindless by her lust.

Kit pulls away from his mother's pussy, his lips and chin glistening with her juices, and pulls himself up and over her on his knuckles. She lies beneath him, wanton and ready. Her legs spread wide, the tapes of her garter stretched taught against her skin. His mother reaches between them to grasp the massive, throbbing member that hovers over her belly and angles him downward. She fits the big purple head against her slot. They both breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief as flesh presses against flesh, and then Kit's hips drive forward.

And like that, he is inside his mother once more. The place he belongs. His hardness swallowed by her softness, his thickness engulfed by her heat. He sinks to the hilt inside her, his heavy balls coming to rest against her full and springy ass. Her large breasts nearly flatten against is chest. He looks up into her eyes, and sees his own love and lust mirrored there.

Serana takes Kit's head in her hands and curls toward him, careful to keep his throbbing cock trapped inside her fertile pussy, pressing her lips tight against his and kissing him fiercely. "Fuck your mother, darling boy," she whispers.

Kit complies. He braces his arms beside her shoulders and pulls his hips back, driving forward once again as quickly as possible, legs and ass flexing with the movement. He slams into her again and again. He feels her open to him with each invasion, letting him drive deeper and deeper. She lifts her hips to meet his every thrust, and her thighs wrap around his midsection, as if to trap him between her legs. But there is nowhere he would rather be, not at this moment.

Her breasts shiver and bounce, hard nipples scraping against his chest, with each heaving thrust. She makes little gasps and cries, her emerald eyes half-lidded, watching her son intensely as he plunders her pussy.

"Now come for your mother," she gasps. "Fill me up, darling boy, make me yours."

Kit groans into her collarbone. He slams into her deeply, feeling her clit mashing beneath his pubis as he plumbs her depths. He hitches his hips, withdraws, drives forward again.

"Fill me, son," Serana croons.

And he does. He is on the upstroke when he feels that familiar charge building at the base of his cock and he quickly pistons his cock forward just as it swells and throbs and bucks, erupting its precious load into his mother's receptive womb. He groans with each spasm, as his cock sends thick viscous rope after thick viscous rope of virile semen spiraling into her depths. Serana's breath hitches in response, and she shares a small orgasm as her son climaxes once more inside her.

The candles around them flare briefly and energy washes over them, smashing against the wards and washing back to its point of origin.

Kit's eruption tapers off, but he remains rock hard inside her. He smiles up into his mother's flushed, bright-eyed face. He withdraws and slides home again, slowly fucking into her once more. She is slicker now, gooier, but still grips him tightly. Her inner muscles caress his length and her stocking clad legs tighten around him. "Darling boy," Serana coos. "You are so good to me."

He allows himself another lusty grin before capturing a nipple between his teeth and playfully biting. Kit saws his cock in and out of Serana's pussy, taking his time, using slow languorous movements. His cock is hot and hard, and she makes him hotter and harder, contracting her inner muscles around his length as he slowly pumps into her.

"Mother," Kit gasps as he drives into her. "Mother, Mother, Mother." He feels her contract beneath him, as her own crisis crashes into her. He continues the steady slow pumping, drawing out her orgasm. Serana's head falls back and her throat works soundlessly. Energy washes over the room, over the lovers, and Kit feels it surge within him. Feels his cock respond, thickening, growing more eager.

His pace increases. The muscles in his shoulders, back, and thighs clench and unclench with the effort. He rains kisses down upon her perfect breasts as they shake beneath him. He kisses his mother's throat and chin and finds her mouth. And when those full red petals press against his lips, he feels his own release arrive suddenly and unbidden.

Kit's hips thrust forward, his rampant, throbbing cock driving deep again, his full and ready balls bouncing off her lush ass. He feels the charge building, building, building, and then it erupts, jettisoning thick spurts of seed into his mother's core once more. She cries out as his cum impacts within her womb, pouring into her, seeking an egg, seeking to create life.

His soul sings. He feels himself pouring out through the tiny opening in his angry purple cockhead, emptying himself once more into his own mother.

When Kit regains his senses, he is stretched out naked on the bed beside his mother. Both of them soaked in sweat and coital fluids, breathing heavily. Serana has a wide grin plastered to her beautiful face. She laughs self-consciously as Kit's eyes focus on her, raising a hand to cover her mouth.

"What?" he says.

She laughs again. The hand reaches out to caress his cheek. "You are such a beautiful young man, Kit," she says. "And you make me feel very young myself."

He cups her hand and kisses her. "I assure you, Mother, you don't look a day over two hundred."

She slaps him on the chest, laughing. "Cheeky boy!"

"You are the most beautiful creature my eyes have ever beheld," he says. He kisses her again and she responds.

"Better," she murmurs. He runs a hand down her exquisite flank, reaching out to cup her full perfect buttock. As his fingers press into her yielding flesh, she adds, "Much better."

She levers her body up and over him, straddling him in one easy movement. He can feel the heat of her pussy on his abdomen, as well as feel the seed dripping out of her. She looms over him, her breasts dragging across his chest. Her lips find his again, hungry, needful.

Serana kisses his chin, his throat, his collarbone. She licks sweat from his left pectoral and sucks lightly on his right nipple. Her long dark hair whispers across his skin, tickling him slightly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Light kisses along his breastbone and across the ridges of muscle on his midsection. She licks up sweat, trailing her tongue along his skin, tasting him.

He hears her slurping, sucking up the seed that dripped from her pussy onto his skin. Her chin nudges against his pubic patch, sodden with their combined fluids. Her lips find the root of him and they go to work, along with her tongue, cleaning him up. She sucks and slurps and licks, removing the evidence of their love-making. She makes noises of appreciation, enjoying their shared taste.

Serana looks up past her son's hardness into his eyes and smiles. "So big and hard again, so quickly," she says, with admiration in her voice.

She wraps long fingers around the base of his cock and levers it upright. Tucking a lock of hair behind an ear, she swallows the broad head of his cock between her lips and begins to suck. Her eyes watch him while her mouth focuses on his pleasure. Her lips slip over the flared mushroom head, tongue undulating against his sensitive skin. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks, and gradually he begins to sink into her mouth. Inch by slow inch.

His cock, slickened by coital fluids and his mother's saliva, slides into her gullet as if oiled. Her nose nestles in his sodden pubes and her nostrils flare. She swallows, and he feels her throat constricting around him. She is squeezing him with her inner muscles once more. There is slurping and schlucking now, as she swallows his precum and her saliva drips out onto his balls.

Kit groans. It is his turn to throw his head back. His hands grab at pillows to keep from grabbing his mother's head and fucking her throat. She cups his balls and kneads them gently, trying to coax out their precious load.

The heat and tightness of Serana's throat, the undulations of her tongue and throat muscles, the hollowness of her cheeks and the slickness of her saliva, and now her teasing fingers. All too much.

Kit's breath hitches once, twice, and then his thick cock is throbbing in his mother's mouth. Ropes of viscous jism spray directly down her esophagus into her belly. She schlurks her mouth upward, until only the angry purple head lies between her lips. Kit's cock throbs and pulses, jetting an endless stream of thick, sperm-laden cum into his mother's mouth. She croons in happiness as the eruption continues, filling her mouth, causing her cheeks to bulge. Cum leaks from her lips, trailing down the length of Kit's cock.

Still holding him, Serana removes her mouth and noisily swallows her son's enormous load. She licks her lips and then kisses away the few drops of cum decorating his still rampant cock.

"Twelve Gods," she breathes, tongue swiping her full lips, "I love how hard you are for me."

"Always, Mother," Kit gasps.

"A prophecy?" she says, smiling wickedly. She crawls on all fours across her son's hard body, dragging her heavy breasts across his thighs and stomach and chest.

"A promise."

Serana lifts her hips, reaches between them, and slots the broad plum-head of her son's cock against her gooey pussy. As her hips drop, swallowing him whole in one fell swoop, she gasps and closes her eyes, enjoying the deliciousness of being full of her youngest son's cock once more.

"One that I will hold you to," she says, beginning to ride him. Her gorgeous breasts with their big, hard, pink nipples sway over his head.

Kit places a hand on either breast and squeezes them together. He admires the long line of cleavage formed for a moment before kissing each nipple in turn. He presses her nipples together and begins to suckle them both at the same time. Serana's hips increase in speed, slamming her hungry pussy into Kit's cock again and again. His own hips are not idle. He raises them up to meet her, driving his cock deeper and deeper. Heat and moisture envelop him, soak into him, and she seems to suck him deeper into her pussy. Her stockings rasp against his hips as she rocks above him.

Her clit flattens against his pubic bone and she is cumming, crying out wordlessly as pleasure overtakes her. Her sugar walls constrict around his surging penis, and her body shakes and shivers over him, her heavy breasts bouncing in his hands. "Kit! My son! My own darling boy! How you make me feel, how you make me lose control!"

She looks down at him, eyes ablaze with eldritch flame. His lips around her right nipple, fingers teasing the left, both hands full of her bouncing tits. "I'm going to climax again, very quickly," she says breathlessly. "Come with me, Kit. Fill me up once more. I want to feel you exploding inside me as I climb to the apex, as the pleasure makes me lose my mind."

Kit grins, face half-buried by his mother's breasts. His hips begin to blur, hammering into his mother's sodden pussy again and again. "Coming, Mother," he says, voice strained as his cock throbs again, so soon after the last time. Kit's dick bucks and shivers deep within Serana's core, pumping her full to bursting once more with his cum. He groans and she cries out with each throbbing burst, as stream after stream of pearly white jism erupts from his pleasure-tortured cock.

Serana shivers and moans, her own climax riding hard on the last one, and she drops her head to bury it against Kit's shoulder. Each impact of his cum against the roof of her womb makes her feel as if she is cumming herself, but no, it is just a long and intense climax being deliciously dragged out. Energy washes off the both of them, nearly shattering the wards which have already taken so much abuse. But they hold, and the energy rebounds back onto the sweating, climaxing lovers.

The darkened room momentarily blazes as bright and hot as the sun, Kit and Serana incandescent at the heart of it, but just as suddenly the light dims and mother and son lay entwined together on the bed, in the warm night, each of them momentarily sated and murmuring sweet endearments in the ears of the other.