Chapter 18: The Bagel Reunion
Six months after the rescue in Ballymore, and a full year after Yukio's disappearance, the air in Stacy’s penthouse held a different charge. It wasn’t the anticipatory magic of old, but a thick, comfortable warmth woven from decades of shared history. The scars from the Consortium’s last assault were gone, the marble floors polished, the windows whole, but the room itself seemed to sigh with the weight of eight people who had collectively logged over three centuries of living.
Jan sat cross-legged on the enormous sectional, a contented weight in her lap. Godfrey III snored softly against her thigh, his tiny, fluffy body rising and falling. She ran a hand over her braid, her gaze soft as it traveled the circle. “I just keep thinking,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. “With all the chaos, the close calls… I’m just glad I didn’t ruin any of you with my magic back then. That I didn’t fuck up the wiring permanently.”
Mike, his shaggy hair more grey than brown now, chuckled from his spot next to Casey. He patted his softening middle. “You mean besides the occasional craving for group sex and a complete inability to be shocked by anything? Red, I might have died alone. I was a walking bundle of anxiety. Too scared to ever ask this amazing woman out.” He nudged Casey with his shoulder. “Your magic didn’t ruin me. It gave me a fucking blueprint for confidence.”
Casey, her own silver streaks gleaming in the lamplight, leaned into him. “Yeah, well, it gave me permission to be the slut I always knew I was deep down.” She grinned, the old perpetual smirk still there. “Seriously, Jan. Catholic guilt is a powerful suppressant. You performed an exorcism with orgasms. We’re good.”
Stacy, looking poised and powerful in a simple silk blouse, swirled the wine in her glass. Her eyes held a distant, fond light. “I only met the love of my life because of magic and time travel. A paradox wrapped in a miracle. If that’s ruined, I’ll take it.”
“Hear, hear,” Jason said, raising his bottle of beer. He’d grown a bit of a paunch, and his glasses were thicker, but his smile was the same. “I just adore being along for the ride. Always have.”
Amy, curled next to him, her willowy frame now softened by motherhood and comfort, nodded vigorously. “My exposure to all this… it didn’t break my brain. It gave it a new vocabulary. I write better fantasy because I’ve lived some of the weird parts. The sense of wonder never left.”
Rebecca, her blonde hair now a practical, elegant crop, smiled her kind, professor’s smile. “The assertiveness I learned that weekend… it wasn’t a spell that wore off. It was a lesson I integrated. It helped me ask for what I wanted in my career, with Charlie, with everything. It did me a world of good, Jan.”
Mara, however, pointed a finger across the coffee table, her lawyer’s glare firmly in place despite the fondness in her eyes. “Okay, but we are clear. We are crystalline. You never, ever make me a submissive again if you know what’s good for you. I still have dreams about that strap-on, and not all of them are the good kind.”
Laughter rippled through the room, easy and full.
Mike stretched, his knee giving a faint pop. “So, not to be the practical one, but Casey and I were wondering… Mai’s been a dream, really. But our guest room isn’t her permanent home. How’s Yukio’s recovery? For real?”
Jan’s smile turned gentle. “For real. The physical scars are healed. The mental ones… she sees a therapist Aisling recommended. Someone who understands magical trauma. She’s strong. She’s painting again. Not tattoos, actual canvases. She says it’s quieter than dragons.”
“Good,” Casey said, nodding. “That’s really good.”
The doorbell rang, a soft chime.
Stacy unfolded herself from her chair. “That’ll be Rick. He said he might stop by after work.” She padded to the door and opened it.
It was not Rick.
Yukio Harata stood in the hallway, holding a large paper bag and a cardboard tray holding four coffees. She wore a familiar, slightly too-tight delivery uniform jacket over a t-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair was loose, longer than it had been in Ballymore, and the vivid colors of new tattoos peeked from her collar and cuffs. Her eyes, clear and sharp, swept over Stacy and into the room beyond.
“Hey,” Yukio said, a ghost of her old wild grin playing on her lips. “Anyone order a breakfast?”
Stacy blinked, then a slow, wide smile spread across her face. She stepped back without a word.
Yukio walked in, her boots silent on the marble. Her gaze took in the circle of friends, all fully, boringly clothed. She set the bag and coffee tray carefully on the sprawling coffee table, the scent of fresh bagels and rich coffee cutting through the wine-and-nostalgia air.
She put her hands on her hips, feigning confusion. “Okay, I’m lost. Why is everyone still dressed? Did I get the address wrong? Is this a support group for the sexually retired?”
A beat of stunned silence hung in the air.
Then Jan burst out laughing, a pure, joyous sound. Godfrey III yipped in his sleep.
Mike’s mouth was open. Casey’s smirk returned, full force. Amy clapped her hands together once, gleefully.
“Oh my god,” Jason breathed.
With a collective, unspoken understanding, the room erupted into motion. Not the frenetic energy of youth, but a deliberate, joyful shedding. Belts were unbuckled. Buttons were fumbled. Zippers hissed. Mara, rolling her eyes but with a definite smile, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings. Rebecca shrugged out of her cardigan with practiced grace.
Amy, kicking off her sandals, grinned at Yukio. “I missed the start of the last one. I am so glad I’m here for this one.”
Yukio watched them, her eyes shining. Then she began her own undressing. It wasn’t a frantic strip. It was a performance, a reclaiming. She peeled off the delivery jacket, letting it fall. The t-shirt followed, revealing the map of her skin: the original rose, now surrounded by a phoenix that spread across her shoulders and down her spine, its tail feathers dissolving into intricate Celtic knots that wrapped her ribs—Aisling’s work. The scars from the despair static were faint silver lines, integrated into the artwork. She unbuttoned her jeans, pushed them and her simple cotton underwear down her hips in one motion, and stepped free, naked and unashamed.
She was thinner than she had been, muscle still rebuilding, but there was a fierce vitality in her stance that had been missing in the church.
She walked first to Jan, who was struggling with the clasp of her trousers. Yukio gently pushed her hands away and finished it for her, then tugged the fabric down. She cupped Jan’s face, her thumbs stroking the faint lines beside her green eyes.
“No more guilt,” Yukio murmured, her voice low and rough. “You brought me home twice.” She kissed her, deep and lingering, a kiss of gratitude and shared history.
Then she turned.
Casey was naked now, her body softer, fuller, beautiful in its lived-in reality. Yukio’s gaze traveled over her with open appreciation. She didn’t speak. She simply sank to her knees on the plush rug, her hands settling on Casey’s thighs.
Casey’s breath hitched. She opened her stance, a silent invitation.
Yukio leaned in, her nose nuzzling through the dark, coarse curls. She inhaled deeply, and a shudder of pure want went through her. Then her tongue found its target—a long, flat, slow lick from perineum to clit.
“Fuck,” Casey gasped, her hands flying to Yukio’s head, fingers spearing into her hair.
Yukio’s mouth opened, sealing over Casey’s cunt. Her tongue, agile and insistent, plunged inside, fucking into her with quick, shallow thrusts. Casey’s hips jerked. Yukio’s hands tightened on her thighs, holding her in place as she ate her out with a focused, hungry intensity. The wet, slick sounds filled the immediate space.
Mike, now naked, his cock already half-hard, moved behind Casey. He pressed his body against her back, his hands coming around to cup her heavy breasts, pinching her nipples. His erection nestled against the cleft of her ass.
“Jesus, Yukio,” he muttered, watching her head bob between his wife’s legs.
Stacy approached them. She was nude, her body still toned but bearing the honest marks of time. She took Mike’s right hand from Casey’s breast and guided it down between her own legs. “Remember how this works?” she said, her voice a husky command. She pressed his fingers into her slick folds, gasping as he found her clit. “You multitask.”
Mike groaned, his fingers rubbing slow circles on Stacy as he ground his cock against Casey’s ass. The sensation of Casey trembling under Yukio’s mouth while making Stacy gasp was overwhelmingly familiar.
“Switch,” Casey panted, pushing Yukio’s head back gently but firmly. Her cunt glistened under the lights. “Mike, baby, I need you in me. Now.”
Yukio released her with a wet smack, her chin slick. She looked up, her eyes dark. “Do it.”
Mike didn’t need more encouragement. He guided his cock, thick and fully hard now, to Casey’s soaked entrance. With one hand still working between Stacy’s legs, he pushed forward, sinking into his wife in a single, deep, claiming stroke.
Casey cried out, a sound of perfect satisfaction. She pushed back against him, taking him to the hilt.
Across the room, Rebecca had guided Amy onto a large floor pillow. She straddled Amy’s face, lowering her cunt onto the younger woman’s waiting tongue. Amy’s hands immediately gripped Rebecca’s ass, pulling her down. But Rebecca didn’t stay upright. She gracefully leaned forward, shifting her weight until she was in a perfect sixty-nine, her own mouth finding Amy’s wet, swollen pussy. They moved in a synchronized, hungry rhythm, a mutually devouring parenthesis of gasps and muffled moans.
Jason, watching his wife, was painfully hard. Mara, now naked, saw his look. She turned, presenting her ass to him, bracing her hands on the back of the sofa. “C’mon, accountant. Do the math.”
Jason moved behind her, his hands gripping the generous curve of her hips. He spat into his palm, slicked his cock, and drove into her in one smooth motion. Mara groaned, long and low, pushing back against him, her curls shaking with the force of his first thrusts. “Yeah,” she hissed into the leather. “Like that. No magic. Just fuck me.”
Jan watched the symphony of reconnection, her heart full. Then she crawled on her hands and knees across the rug to Yukio, who was still kneeling, watching Mike fuck Casey with a rapt, hungry expression.
Jan hooked a finger under Yukio’s chin, turning her face. She kissed her, tasting the distinct, musky-sweet flavor of Casey on Yukio’s lips and tongue. It was a taste of their shared past, a flavor of their unique bond.
“Welcome home,” Jan whispered against her mouth.
Yukio laughed, a free, unburdened sound Jan hadn’t heard in over a year. “It’s about damn time.” Then she pulled Jan down, rolling her onto her back on the rug, and covered her body with her own. She kissed her again, deeply, as Mike’ steady grunts and Casey’s encouraging cries formed the rhythm of the room, as Rebecca’s gasped “Yes, Amy, right there!” harmonized with Jason’s steady slap of skin against skin and Mara’s bitten-off curses.
Yukio’s hand slid between Jan’s thighs, finding her hot and wet. Two fingers plunged inside her, curling expertly. Jan arched, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Yukio watched her face, her own breathing ragged. “No more saving the world today, Red,” she murmured. “Just this. Just us.”
And as the morning light streamed into the clean, whole penthouse, illuminating the dust motes and the tangled pile of aging, beloved bodies, there was no magic in the air but the oldest kind—the kind forged from survival, from forgiveness, and from the simple, filthy, glorious act of being alive, together.
The light shifted, warming the skin of their piled limbs. Yukio withdrew her fingers from Jan with a soft, wet sound and rolled onto her back beside her, breathing hard. She stared at the ceiling, a wide, uncomplicated grin splitting her face.
“Why the fuck don’t we do this more often?” she laughed, the sound rich and full. “I mean, seriously. This is better than therapy. We should have a standing monthly appointment. ‘The Shit We Survived Support Group and Orgy.’”
Nearby, Casey was a study in multitasking. She had guided Mike’s glistening cock from her own soaked cunt to press against Stacy’s tight, clenching asshole. Stacy, braced on her elbows, nodded sharply. “Yeah, do it.” With a grunt and a slow, insistent push, Mike breached her, Stacy’s gasp melting into a low, approving groan.
Casey then turned, crawling on her knees toward Mara, who was still being rhythmically pounded by Jason. Casey tapped Mara’s hip. “Switch. My turn to taste you.” Mara, her face flushed, nodded eagerly. As Jason pulled out of her with a slick pop, Mara pivoted, lowering her dripping cunt over Casey’s waiting mouth. Casey’s tongue lashed out immediately, a broad swipe that made Mara shudder.
“We do,” Casey said, her voice muffled against Mara’s flesh before coming up for air. “Just… smaller. We know more people now. We’ve got jobs.Lives. And shit.” She dove back in, her hands gripping Mara’s ass.
Jan, meanwhile, had crawled to her discarded bag. She pulled out a harness and a dildo carved from dark, polished wood, veined with faint green light. “It’s always great when we can get Hank to come,” she said, strapping the harness around her hips with practiced efficiency. The enchanted wood nestled against her, a thrum of potential connecting to her nerves. “He inevitably gets flustered by something ridiculous. Last time, it was the shape of Katie’s glitter. Just stared and mumbled about ‘structural integrity of sequins’ for ten minutes.”
She walked on her knees to Rebecca and Amy, who were still entwined. Jan placed a gentle hand on Rebecca’s back. “Professor, let me in.” Rebecca, dazed and wet-mouthed from Amy’s pussy, lifted herself up. Jan positioned the carved cock at Rebecca’s entrance, slick with Amy’s saliva, and pushed forward. The magic in the wood flared, and Jan felt the exquisite, phantom pressure of being filled as she filled Rebecca, a dual sensation that drew a sharp, shared gasp from both women.
Amy whimpered, feeling suddenly empty. “I always find Fatima awe-inspiring,” she breathed, scrambling up. She spotted Yukio and lunged for her, their bodies colliding in a hungry kiss. “God, we used to do this in the dorms all the time,” Amy mumbled against Yukio’s lips, her hands cupping Yukio’s face. “After class. Before class.”
Jason, who had been watching his wife with a dazed, happy expression, felt his spent cock twitch and then stiffen again with alarming speed. He looked down, then over at Jan, who was driving into Rebecca with slow, deep rolls of her hips. “Jan,” he called out, his voice a mix of wonder and accusation. “You using a little magic here?”
Jan glanced over her shoulder, her red hair sticking to her damp neck. “Just a whisper,” she grunted, punctuating her words with a thrust that made Rebecca cry out. “Enough to keep the men hard and the women wet. Think of it as… atmospheric lubricant.”
Jason shook his head, laughing, and then his eyes landed on Yukio and Amy making out, their hands roaming. He was moving before he consciously decided to, his renewed erection leading him. He knelt behind Yukio, his hands sliding over the phoenix on her back. Amy broke the kiss, panting, and saw him. She grinned, nodding encouragement, her fingers tracing Yukio’s jawline. “Yes, Jason, fuck her. She needs it.”
Yukio, catching on, pushed up onto her hands and knees, presenting herself to Jason. He guided himself into her with one smooth, sure stroke. Yukio’s head dropped, a guttural “Fuck yes” escaping her as he began to move, his pace steady and deep.
Mara, riding Casey’s face, moaned loudly. She threaded her fingers through Casey’s dark hair, holding her in place. “You know,” Mara panted, “after all these years, I still love how Zack looks at these gatherings. Like a lost puppy dog who stumbled into a wolf den. It’s adorable.”
Mike, who was buried deep in Stacy’s ass, his movements a slow, intense grind, managed to speak. “I always get a charge,” he said, his voice strained with pleasure, “out of when Yukio joins me and Casey.”
“Aw, thanks!” Yukio called out, her voice hitching as Jason picked up his pace.
“But lately,” Mike continued, “Casey and I have had some great four-ways with Katie and Lena.”
Casey pulled her mouth from Mara with an obscenely wet sound. “Lena,” she confirmed, her lips swollen and shiny. “She’s developing this way… to tell a story with her body. The pressure of a hand, the delay of a touch. It brings out some of the best orgasms I’ve had without Mike in years.”
Mara tapped the top of Casey’s head. “Less talk. More lick.” She ground her cunt back down onto Casey’s waiting tongue.
Rebecca was shuddering, her inner muscles fluttering around Jan’s enchanted cock. “I miss Aaron and Annie,” she moaned, her fingers clawing at the rug.
Jan, sweating, grunted in response. “Can’t be helped. If people found out the governor and his wife were having group sex with some Green Moons…” She left the catastrophic political fallout unsaid, driving her hips forward to punctuate the point.
That final thrust sent Rebecca over the edge. Her climax was a silent, shaking thing for a moment before a sharp, broken cry tore loose. As the waves subsided, she reached back, gripping Jan’s thigh. “Can I… use that now?”
Jan slowed, unhooked the harness, and handed the still-thrumming strap-on to Rebecca. Rebecca took it with a scholar’s focused curiosity, then a predator’s grin. She moved toward Stacy and Mike. “My turn,” she said, tapping Mike’s shoulder.
Mike pulled out of Stacy carefully. Rebecca took his place, positioning herself, and then pushed into Stacy. Stacy’s eyes flew open, a new, surprised pleasure flooding her features. “Oh, right there, Rebecca, yes, just like that,” she breathed.
Mike stood, his cock bobbing, and walked to the sofa. He sat heavily, patted his thighs. Jan, now free of the harness, understood. She climbed onto him, her back to his chest, and guided him inside her with a low, satisfied sigh. He filled her completely, his arms wrapping around her middle, his mouth on her shoulder.
Nearby, Mara’s body went taut, a series of sharp, gasping cries signaling her climax. As she came down, she slid off Casey, who stood up, licking her lips. Casey stepped to where Jan and Mike were joined. She leaned in, capturing Jan’s mouth in a deep, searching kiss, her hands coming up to knead and pinch Jan’s heavy breasts.
Mara, still buzzing, crawled over to Amy and Yukio. Jason was pounding into Yukio with relentless focus, Amy whispering filth into Yukio’s ear. Mara hooked her arm around Amy’s waist and pulled her back. Amy yelped, but Mara just smiled, pushing Amy onto her back. She slid two fingers, slick from Casey’s mouth and her own arousal, deep into Amy’s pussy without preamble.
Amy arched off the floor, a broken scream of pleasure tearing from her throat. Mara worked her fingers in a cruel, perfect rhythm. “We should,” Mara said, her voice calm despite the predatory gleam in her eye, “at least invite the husbands next time.”
Stacy, who was meeting Rebecca’s thrusts with rising urgency, called out, “Would it be weird… oh god, right there… if Rick joined us?” Her question was directed at Mike and Casey.
Mike, nibbling Jan’s earlobe, shook his head. Jan’s internal muscles clenched around him as Casey’s thumb circled her nipple. “Wouldn’t be that weird,” Mike managed, “considering what happened in our kitchen… before we all caught that flight to Ballymore.”
Mara’s laugh was a dark, happy sound. “I remember. Rick, Beth, Calista, Mandy, Ben, Felicity… all of us.” She curled her fingers inside Amy, who sobbed. “I wouldn’t mind if Rick fucked me again. I could offer Zack to you, Stacy.”
Stacy, her hips bucking as Rebecca hammered into her, gasped, “Zack is afraid of me.”
“Zack,” Rebecca grunted, her own climax building as she drove the strap-on home, “is afraid of just about all the women in our group except for Amy.”
Amy, writhing under Mara’s relentless fingers, moaned, “People think I’m too nice!”
Rebecca’s orgasm hit her, a stiffening and a sharp cry. She slumped over Stacy for a moment. As she caught her breath, she looked over at Mike and Casey working in tandem to bring Jan to the edge. “I still think,” Rebecca said, her voice breathy, “Mike somehow turned Felicity into a sex fiend.”
Casey smirked, watching Jan’s face contort in ecstasy. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Stacy, spent and glowing, lay back on the rug. “I believe,” she said, pointing a languid finger toward the hall, “that the first time we all did this, we moved from this spot to the bathroom. Where my giant shower and hot tub await us.”
The suggestion moved through them like a slow current. They disentangled, laughing, helping each other up. Bodies glistened with sweat and other fluids in the midday sun. They gathered towels, moved as a loose, sated herd towards the master suite.
Yukio, walking beside Mike and Casey, draped an arm around each of them. “So,” she asked, her voice softer now, genuine. “How’s Mai doing? Really.”
“She’s good,” Casey said, leaning into the hug. “Really good. Determined. Takes after her mom.”
“She’s a force of nature,” Mike agreed. “A little less self-destructive, maybe. We like having her around.”
Yukio’s smile was tender, relieved. “What’s she up to tonight?”
Mike shrugged. “Said she was just inviting some friends over to the house. A quiet thing.”
“To the Horny House?” Yukio asked, a single eyebrow arching with impeccable comic timing.
Mike and Casey stopped walking. They looked at each other. The same realization dawned on their faces simultaneously. Their suburban home, empty of them, was now occupied by their children and their children’s friends. The arithmetic was undeniable.
Casey snorted. Mike shook his head, a wry grin spreading.
“Yeah,” they said in unison.
Then they shrugged, in perfect, long-married sync, and followed the others. Mike, Casey, Jan, Mara, and Rebecca piled into the enormous, multi-headed rainfall shower, the water sluicing away the afternoon’s adventures. Stacy, Amy, Jason, and Yukio sank into the steaming depths of the sunken hot tub with communal groans of pleasure.
Yukio let her head loll back against the tile, her eyes closed. “I propose a wager,” she murmured, a thread of laughter in her voice. “Whoever falls asleep first has to explain this to Cameron and Charlie tomorrow.”
The general laughter of the group was warm, tired, and deeply content. Outside the penthouse, Chicago buzzed, oblivious. Inside, in the steam and the warmth, there was only the quiet, earned peace of survivors, home.