HeVan & Earth

by Lucy Kelly

  Jo had only gotten through the basics, when her stomach growled. Grace checked the time. Justyn, Margan, and Trake had not come back for dinner. Pulling out her com-link, she tried to reach Justyn. When he didn’t answer, she tried Jett and Jalen. They didn’t answer either, even as Jo pulled out her own link and tried to reach Margan and Trake. Her luck was no better than Grace’s. Grace was starting to get worried. She then contacted Addie

  “Addie, what’s up? I can’t reach my Ankida. They were supposed to have dinner with Agent March and me,” Grace said.

  “Hasn’t anyone come and told you?” Addie said. “Four of the remaining ex-council members decided to fight alongside Hend. Justyn had to call up his seconds. Grace…two of the ex-council members are women. I don’t know if the men will be able to fight them. They revere women. Justyn, Margan, and Trake need two additional fighters. Jett and Jalen have offered, but Justyn hasn’t accepted yet,” Addie explained. She was angry that Grace’s Ankida had kept this from her sister.

  Jo, listening in, was just as angry as Grace.

  How dare they do that?

  “Addie, do you know where they are?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, they’re still at the battleground,” Addie said.

  “I want you to send Jo and me there, right away,” said Grace, looking over at Jo and getting a definite nod in return.

  “You got it, hon. They made me promise not to contact you. I didn’t promise not to tell you everything if you asked. Give ‘em hell, Gracie,” said Addie.

  Then to Jo’s astonishment, from one moment to the next, things changed. They were no longer sitting in comfortable chairs. Instead, they found themselves sitting on air and then falling on their asses.

  “What the hell?” Jo exclaimed, looking around.

  “Sorry about that,” Grace answered as she picked herself up and dusted off the back of her jeans. “I can only transport to places where I’ve been. Addie can just send you. However, with everything going on, I forgot to tell you to stand up. When you go, you’re in the same position as when you left. We were sitting in chairs, then we were sitting on air.”

  “Forget the how-it-works. I want to know how a chick from Chicago freakin’ moves people in a blink like this,” said Jo.

  “Long story—I’ll explain later. For now, let’s take a good look around, and then find our men,” said Grace.

  The floor was packed earth in the shape of an oval about the size of a basketball court, perhaps a little larger. Sheer walls of stone, at least twenty feet high, ran around the perimeter. The area above the walls was dark but there was a sense of depth. Jo thought there could be seating up there. The ceiling was so high that in the low light, they couldn’t see it. At either end were arched doorways. They decided to walk through the closest one.

  It turned out to be the right one. A little way in, the torch-lit corridor curved, as if it were following the edge of the arena. At a point where Jo figured they had walked halfway along, another corridor branched off to the right.

  “I think if we go straight, we’ll end up at the other archway to the battleground,” said Jo.

  “I think you’re correct. Let’s try this one,” Grace said, gesturing to the right.

  When they heard voices up ahead, Jo had her weapon out of the holster before she even thought about it. Grace noticed, and wished she still had her own service weapon. Seeing a light up ahead from a doorway off to the right, the two women crept up silently, acting as a team.

  Jo swung into the doorway, arms extended, in a crouch. Grace stood just behind her, looking over her shoulder. Even as Grace told her she could stand down, Jo was already lowering her gun. She had recognized Justyn. Margan and Trake must be out of her line of sight. The two of them stepped into the room. Jett and Jalen were sitting on a bench in the middle. Justyn was sitting on another bench opposite them. As the women stepped in, they noticed Margan and Trake by the far right wall. Justyn, Margan, and Trake were all bare-chested. They had obviously been training. All the men looked shocked to see the two women in the doorway.

  Grace took a sweeping look at the men’s faces and then looked at Jo. Jo was looking back at her with the same fierce expression. Jo gave Grace an imperceptible nod. Grace turned back to her Ankida.

  “We understand you need two additional fighters on your team. We also understand two of the former councilwomen have entered the challenge. Jo and I will take the last two positions,” said Grace in a flat voice.

  The men instantly protested. As the argument heated, Margan and Trake’s wings burst through their skin. In the confined space, Jo felt an instant rush of arousal. She needed to bring this meeting to a close. Taking out her weapon, she fired a round into the floor.

  “Now that I have your attention, you can argue all you want, this is the way it’s going to be. We have plans to make and not a lot of time to do so. As I understand the rules, Armus gets to choose the weapon he and Justyn will be using. However, as the others then challenged Justyn’s seconds in return, the remaining weapons become our choice. Further, if any of us defeats our matched opponent, we may then aid our team.”

  She was starting to pant. Her nipples had tightened into tight buds and her womb was contracting. She was also feeling a need to swallow and a sensation of liquid dripped from her ass.

  “I have my Glock. I don’t know if that’s an allowable weapon. I could definitely take out all five of them in a matter of seconds. I’m also good with a staff or a bokken. So if we’re going for primitive, I’ll use a sword. Jett and Jalen will have to decide my weapon. Between now and the time of the fight, I’m going to be a little busy,” she said as she handed off her gun to Grace. Almost involuntarily, she walked over to where Margan and Trake were standing.

  “Come on, fellas,” she said, taking them both by the hand, and leading them from the room.

  Grace watched them leave, and then turned back to Justyn. “Are Jalen and Jett allowed to stay with us tonight?” she asked him.

  If she were going to face a battle to the death in the morning, she wanted to have sex with her Ankida—all her Ankida.

  “Yes, since we are joined, it is allowed,” Justyn said. “I’ll show you to our quarters. I would rather not transport there and advertise your abilities to the guards in the hallways. I’m not sure if our opponents are aware of it or not,” he explained at her look.

  “I wish I could use it in the battle. It would be helpful to get out of the way or come up behind an opponent. But I still feel a moment of disorientation when I transport. In battle, a moment’s hesitation could have deadly consequences,” she said as they left the weapons room and walked down the corridor.

  She got the feeling they were underground, with the stone walls lit by torches and dirt packed floors.

  “How old is this place?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure—at least fifty thousand years,” he said.

  Grace thought of the many people who had likely come before her to ask for final justice on the battleground. They had to succeed come the dawn—she would not lose all she had found!

  *****

  Jo led Margan and Trake back to the arena; it was the only other place she knew of where they would be alone. As they walked, she wondered why they didn’t say anything. She wasn’t saying anything either, though. Perhaps they all felt the weight of the choices they were making. When they re-entered the battleground of the arena, she let go of their hands and began removing her clothes. They were feeling very tight on her body all of a sudden. She’d just removed her jacket and blouse, when Grace appeared in the center of the arena holding a blanket.

  “I’m leaving. I just thought you might need this,” she said, slapping one hand over her eyes, dropping a blanket on the ground, and then disappearing again.

  “How does she do that?” Jo muttered under her breath.

  “She has been blessed by the Goddess Ashnin, and joined with HeVan. She is the arbiter for HeVan, and was thus granted certain gifts,” explained Margan. />
  He and Trake stood before her. They had also removed their remaining clothing. She was sitting on the blanket, taking off her shit-kicker boots. Looking up at them, she froze. A little voice in her head was saying, “What the hell are you doing?” She didn’t listen. Shaking off the shock and awe of two gorgeous men standing in front of her in the buff with wings, she went back to removing her boots.

  “I’m not nearly as good looking as you two. I hope you’re not disappointed,” she said.

  “We have been attracted to you from the first. You are very beautiful,” said Margan, and Trake was quick to agree.

  “Will you watch us fly?” they both asked formally.

  “Yes, I will,” Jo answered.

  The two men continued to waft their wings back and forth, as they dried enough to fly. The released pheromones increased Jo’s arousal. She felt a small orgasm roll through her body. She hadn’t taken her pants off yet.

  I’ll have to wash out these panties before I put them on again, she thought.

  She wiggled and pulled off her remaining clothes. Going up on her knees, she crooked a finger at them.

  “Come here,” she said.

  As they came closer, she could see their cocks grow even more. They bobbed just a little as the two men strode forward.

  Jo took them both in her hands and urged them closer. Running her tongue up the length of Margan’s cock, she took him into her mouth even as she stroked Trake with her other hand. After giving Margan a few minutes of attention with her mouth, she switched over to Trake and took his cock in next. Every few minutes, as she felt them getting close, she would switch off.

  Margan and Trake put their arms over each other’s shoulders with their free hands on Josephine’s, so they wouldn’t fall as their knees weakened.

  “Take us deep, Josephine. You are Nephilim, your second airway will open. Please, deeper, take all of me,” Margan begged.

  Fascinated by the idea, she decided to try. Taking a deep breath for insurance, she swallowed when she felt him hit the back of her throat. The sensation was amazing and shocking. She let out her air and took a breath without thinking. His member was stroking a spot deep in her throat, and she felt as if he were stroking her clit.

  God, it felt good!

  Wrapping her arm around his hip, she tilted her head back to open her throat all the way, and invited him to thrust with a squeeze of his ass.

  “That’s it, take it all,” he said, as he began thrusting in and out. Without realizing it, Jo was squeezing Trake harder. He pried her hand away and held on to her as he watched the two of them, giving each of them support. Jo could tell Margan felt whatever it was in her throat that gave her such pleasure. He would angle his thrusts to give her the most gratification. He made sure they both came together. As she swallowed, he slowly pulled away. She slumped against his hip, breathing in his essence. She felt her arousal building again. She wanted more.

  Looking up at Trake, she said, “I’m sorry, I sort of neglected you.”

  “I didn’t feel neglected, it was beautiful,” he said.

  “Still, I’m not done. Come closer,” she said.

  This time, she knew what delights were coming for them both. She took him deep right away and, once again, was swept away by the sensations she felt. She learned to use a swallowing motion to squeeze him and increase his pleasure. It didn’t take long before they were both reaching their peak.

  She was weak from the force of the orgasms. The men lay her down on the blanket. Then shouting a word in ancient Nephilim, lights came on, lighting the heights of the arena.

  Raising their arms, they leapt into the air.

  Jo quickly found out the best way to watch was flat on her back. It was beautiful, the way they wove in and out. She assumed there must be a pattern, but her brain was too fried to discern it. Each beat of their wings forced the scent of their pheromones down to her. Her body shook as she experienced a grouping of mini-peaks. The first orgasms also increased her arousal. Her hips were moving up and down, urging and enticing the men.

  Watching them, she spread her legs wide and moved one hand down. Her fingers were quickly soaked in her own juices. She stroked her clit as she squeezed her breast with the other hand. She wanted them to stop flying and come down to finish what they had started. She needed them!

  As if they could sense she was on the edge, they spiraled down to where she lay, folding their wings as they landed. Margan went down on his knees between her legs. He was desperate to taste her. Holding her folds open with his hands, he put his tongue to her clit.

  “As good as that feels, I really, really, need you inside me. You can have a snack later,” said Jo, pulling on his hair.

  Margan didn’t laugh, but he did smile. Giving her a last lick and a small nip, sending her over again, he moved up her body. Before she got her breath back, he thrust home. It felt like home; this joining was joyous. Two more thrusts and he held still as he rolled them over. Pulling her to him, he took her mouth, while Trake moved himself into position behind her.

  Her previous orgasms had lubricated her well, her third sweet spot was coated and prepared her for penetration. Spreading her butt cheeks, Trake could see her juices dripping. Just before he was going to push in, he looked down to where his brother was buried deep.

  One of the few genetic traits passed down to the human Nephilim women was their ability to have and enjoy more than one lover, feeling only pleasure and no pain. Still, Trake took his time entering, he would take no risk in tearing or bruising her delicate tissues. Margan held still, waiting for his brother to be fully seated in her ass before moving.

  Jo kept swallowing, her throat ready to take a third that wasn’t present. A shudder went through her body. Trake halted, worried, he was about to stop when she moved, slightly back against him. Grasping her hips, he entered her completely. “Ooh! This feels so good!” she moaned out.

  The three of them began moving in a pattern as old as time. Margan pulled her head down so he could take her mouth. Jo concentrated on the feelings and emotions coursing through her body. She could actually feel a bond or cord binding and joining the three of them together. Pulling her mouth from Margan’s, she shouted her way through another peak. Through her spasms, the two men kept up the motion of their bodies, keeping their pace even. Jo didn’t know how much more she could take. It felt like her cells were about to implode.

  The three of them were climbing a mountain of pleasure. Since he was on top, Trake set the pattern of thrusts in and out in counterpoint to his brother. Exchanging a look with Margan over her shoulder, they sped up a little.

  “Do you like this, Jo? Do you want more?” asked Trake.

  Jo wrenched her mouth away from Margan’s and squeezed all of her internal muscles as hard as she could. Reaching for Trake, she arched her back, which tightened her ass. It was Trake’s turn to groan. He looped his arms under hers and over her shoulders, cupping them backwards. Braced, he began pounding in and out with hard fast strokes. Margan held on to her hips and worked her up and down on his cock along with his brother’s movements. He freed one hand to pluck at her clit over and over again.

  Jo didn’t know how much more she could take. The peaks were coming one on top of another. She’d lost count; not that she was counting or anything. The speed and strength of movements of the two men increased again. She didn’t try to move with them anymore, she was just enjoying the ride. She was shouting, screaming her releases, and barely aware of it. Finally, both Margan and Trake shouted. Holding deep within her, their arms like steel bands around her body, they found their own release.

  She wasn’t aware when they gently pulled away. She had passed out. Rolling to the side, they lay together nestled around her body to keep in the warmth. Margan’s wings had come loose during their lovemaking. When he sat up, they were detached.

  He helped Trake detach his wings. Then, wrapping Jo in the blanket, Trake picked her up. Margan gathered their wings and clothes and they left th
e arena. There were rooms set aside for the combatants. Neither of them was happy about Josephine insisting on fighting with them. They both understood if they hadn’t given in to her demand, they would have lost her. She needed to stand with them and they recognized her bone-deep resolution.

  Entering the room they would share until morning, Trake laid her on the bed. After they put their clothes in the receptacle, they picked Josephine up again and walked into the bathroom. She woke as they were bathing her.

  “Ooh, that feels really good,” she said as they massaged her limbs. She opened her eyes and looked up at them. They were lying in a large tub filled with hot water.

  “As much as I’d like to spend what’s left of the night acquainting myself with your bodies, I’m too pooped to play,” she said. “We need to conserve our strength for the morning.”

  “We agree. Tomorrow afternoon is a different proposition,” said Margan. “You promised me a snack,” he reminded her.

  “So I did. I always keep my promises.”

  Trake got out of the tub and dried off. Then he helped Josephine get out and began drying her as Margan toweled off. Picking her up, they went back to the bedroom and put her under the covers. Josephine was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Double checking the room was secure and they wouldn’t be disturbed, the two of them got into bed beside her. She had rolled on to her right side. Margan pulled her against his chest and Trake spooned her from behind.

  As he closed his eyes, Trake whispered to Margan. “How did she taste?” he asked.

  “Better than the best Seraphian brandy—like ambrosia,” he answered.

  With that, Josephine March’s Ankida followed her into sleep.

  *****

  Jo was warm and comfortable. Someone was shaking her shoulder and wanted her to wake. She didn’t want to; she hated mornings. Her feeble, sleep-filled brain was trying to think of who could be trying to wake her. She decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. She pulled away and curled into a ball, wrapping the blanket over her head.