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Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

“I have every faith in your genius,” Marta acknowledged, allowing herself to get swept up in his delight. Perhaps she really had just imagined that he was distant towards her. The little dance ended in an embrace, looking up into Peter’s eyes and letting all her concerns melt away. He was driven, dedicated to his work, but he was still hers.

“Well, you did buy us three whole hours,” Marta considered, fingers trailing around his collar, and then down the buttons of his shirt. “We could get in a great deal of celebration, and still make it back home in time to get a restful night’s sleep.” Fingers moved from teasing to demanding, opening his shirt one button at a time.

“Now, the bad news is that I don’t have any condoms here,” she announced with mock severity. Once his shirt was open, she began pealing it off him, closing the distance between them. Her lips brushed his chin, and then jaw, leaving light kisses on his cheek until she reached his ear, “But the good news is that we don’t need them. Not anymore.”

“Now, as much as I am looking forward to feeling you inside me, I’m in no rush to get there,” she cooed, taking a slow, longing kiss form his lips. Then her sweater went up over her head and onto the floor, and she craved the warmth of Peter’s body even more. “We’ve got time, tonight. We’ve got all the time in the world, now.”
 
He was tired after two long, coffee-fueled nights of coding. But he wasn’t that tired. “Time enough,” he agreed, hesitating long enough to hit the ‘Off’ button on the app and close the gate. He wasn’t sure where they were going to end up, but he didn’t want to accidentally lose body parts getting there. “As much time as we want.”

He stepped into her embrace, hands gripping her denim-clad hips as he slowly caressed her lips with his. Her body was warm against his, her breasts soft against his chest. “I’m in no hurry either,” he told her, both lying and telling the truth, because God he wanted to feel her climaxing on him as he emptied himself into her. “I’m going to have you in every room in this apartment,” he promised, sliding his hands up her back to work at the hooks of her bra.

His tongue slipped between her lips as he walked her backwards, tasting her as he tossed the bra aside. When she bumped into the table he lifted her, seating her on the hard wood. “God, you taste good,” he whispered, trailing kisses down her throat. His hips ground against hers, denim-clad cock hard. “So fucking good,” he added, hands stroking her belly as he traced the curve of her breast with his teeth.

His fingers found the button of her jeans, opening them as he teased an erect nipple with lips and tongue. The angle was awkward, but he worked one finger in to stroke her slit. “Mmm,” he groaned, tracing her other nipple with his damp finger. Then he moved his mouth, sucking her juices from her skin.

“So good,” he repeated, letting her taste herself on his tongue as he kissed her again. He leaned into her, letting her feel his weight on her as he cupped her breasts. “I want more. I want your flavor filling my mouth.”
 
“Well, I’d never deny you that,” Marta promised with a giggle, savoring her taste from his lips. The wood was cool on her back, but Peter was warm against her, and lust burned between her thighs. It was a struggle to peel down her jeans, with Peter’s weight against her, but it was delightful to squirm and writhe under him until she freed herself.

She remained clad in her panties, the lacy fabric drenched in her juices and creating a delicious friction as she ground against the erection trapped in his pants. She’d promised him hours of lovemaking, but she craved his cock, the pressure as he penetrated her, his thickness spreading her open. She craved that intimacy, of staring into his eyes as she came, of holding his gaze as she held him tight within her.

His heat receded as he traveled down her body once more, replaced by the sultry sting of his lips and teeth on her skin. Her breasts ached with his touch, swollen nipples responding to his tongue. Desire coiled within her, and her only recourse was running her hands through his hair, and gripping his shoulders. But still, he journeyed lower, and opened her thighs to his gaze. Blossoming lips dripped with need and her clit stood in stark relief. “Fuck, Peter, finger me. I want your fingers inside me… while you…” Words escaped her when he wrapped lips around her clit, and she was reduced to breathy moans as two thick fingers parted her.
 
His agonizingly slow journey down her body was paying off. He’s managed to work her jeans off, dragging her panties with them as he slid them down her legs. His lips caressed her inner thighs as his hands slid over rely bare skin before returning to stroke the outer lips of her sex. “Fuck, Peter,” she moaned as he gently spread her, inhaling the scent of her arousal, “finger me. I want your fingers inside me… while you…”

She moaned, long and low, as he gently sucked at her clit. “While I..?” he prompted with a grin, fingers stroking over slick flesh. “Finger you while I what?”

One finger slid into her, firmly stretching her inner walls. He tugged at her clit with his lips, then slowly dragged his tongue over the soft flesh as he slid his finger in and out. On the fourth stroke he added a second finger, and the agonized moan it produced made his aching cock strain against his jeans.

“You feel so fucking good on me,” he murmured, curving his fingers to massage the soft inner flesh as he stroked into her. His tongue slid over his fingers and her lips, dragging over her clit once more. “I can’t wait,” he added, before sucking on her clit. A third finger filled her, and he could feel the precum soaking his underwear. “You’re going to feel so fucking good on my cock.”

He thrust his fingers deep, circling her clit with his thumb as he stared up at her. A sly grin played over lips that were slick and shiny with her desire. “I want to fuck you,” he breathed.
 
Peter left her on the edge of climax, left her with a deep ache that could only soothed by him. Muscles in her thighs twitched and coiled, her need taking a physical toll on her. And then his words dripped like honey from his lips, sensual and filthy and piercing her to the core.

“Fuck me,” Marta murmured, watching with hunger as he licked her taste from his lips. With that, she pushed herself up, onto her elbows, and grabbed the hand that fingered her. It was her turn to hold his gaze as she brought his fingers to her lips. The musky fragrance of her desire filled her nose, her mind, and she sighed as she savored her taste on his hand. While she sucked hid fingers clean, her free hand assisted his in freeing his erection, stroking his length until she lined him up to her soaking slit. Then she pulled him into her, legs locked around his waist.

“Peter…” she moaned, sinking back onto the table. “Peter… I love you. I… I love you so much…” Slender thighs pulled him in deeper, closer, and she reveled in feeling him. All of him, with nothing between them. She reached for his hand, twining her fingers with him and moving to met his hips with her own. The table creaked in rhythm with her cries filling her apartment with the moist resonance of their passion.

“Close… so close…” she promised, begged, “Together… I want us… together…” Her bliss broke through first, holding him like a velvet fist.
 
He’d really wanted to drag things out, leave her teetering on the edge of orgasm as long as he could. But Marta had other plans it seemed, and he was finding it difficult to resist. Particularly because of the hungry look she gave him as she sucked his fingers clean and worked at his jeans. They sagged down, trapped by her thighs as she slowly pulled his shaft into her.

His eyes widened as he felt her parting around him, sliding over and gripping his unprotected length. She’d felt good through the latex, of course. But she felt so much better without it. “Peter…” she moaned, sinking back onto the table. “Peter… I love you. I… I love you so much…”

“God... Marta...” he moaned in return, leaning and stretching forward to kiss her. The movement thrust him in deeper, and she responded with a gasp and her long legs tightening around his ass. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, rocking his hips against hers. “So... damn... much...”

The table creaked and scraped as he moved within her, dragging desperate cries of pleasure from her lips that matched his own. He tried to keep the pace deliberate, tried to drag out the sensations as long as possible. But his need built, faster and faster, and his thrusts became wild and desperate as he chased his pleasure within her. “I’m... I’m close, Marta,” he gasped, bracing himself on his forearms to watch her.

“Close… so close…” she moaned in response,

“Cum... for me...” he begged, tasting his salt sweat on her lips as he kissed her, feeling her body move beneath him as he drove into her again. “I... I want...”

“Together…” she begged, “i want us… together…”


He wasn’t sure who climaxed first. He didn’t care who climaxed first. He just knew she was moaning in release as she clenched around him, and he was crying out in wordless rapture as he dove into her, spending his pleasure deep into her as they clung to one another. He was still deep within her, spent but not yet softening, when he could catch his breath. “God,” he whispered, kissing her again. “God, I love you.”

After a moment he kissed her again, then stepped back and scooped her up. She felt light in his arms as he held her to his chest, skin soft and warm against his. “Bedroom for round two?” he grinned. “Or should we get a long, hot shower?”
 
Marta leaned into Peter, smile plastered on her face, “Both sound good, really. Though, I suppose the shower should be last, or if defeats the purpose.” She reveled in his attention as he carried her to the bedroom, and giggled as they landed on the bed together, ever charmed by his playfulness. Then it was more kissing and caressing and exploring, but this time it was her hands and her mouth trailing down his body.

“Now, if we are going to get around to fucking in every room, I am going to need you hard again,” Marta declared, pinning him beneath her. Her breath ghosted over his softening cock, still moist with their union, and she shuddered in time with his eager twitching. Breathing in their musk, she swallowed most of his length, sucking and licking until he grew in her mouth. Then she fucked herself down his shaft, slathering him in saliva.

She’d tasted herself on him, many times now. And she’d tasted his pleasure, often swallowing it when they didn’t want to bother with a condom. But this was the first time she tasted them together. Well, except perhaps for a kiss from that first night, when they threw caution to the wind. Regardless, it was a new, enticing flavor, one Marta relished in. Almost as much as she relished his moans and the movements of his body, begging for more without words.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked, running her tongue over the length of his cock, “Or did you want to shoot this load down my throat?”
 
Playful kissing and touching turned teading and then sensual, and soon Pete was gasping and writhing as Marta teased his slowly stiffening cock with her lips and tongue. Then he moaned as she slowly swallowed him, arching his hips to offer her more of him. She accepted hungrily, slowly but surely bringing him back to rock hard life.

He dug his fingers into the mattress, head rocking back and forth as he struggled not to buck his hips and fuck her throat. Sometimes she enjoyed that, but right now it was clear from the pressure of her hand in his hip that she wanted to set the pace. So he lay back, and gasped for her, and enjoyed every moment of the seeet torture she inflicted.

“Are you ready for me?” she asked, running her tongue over the length of his cock, “Or did you want to shoot this load down my throat?”

“Both,” he gasped, cock twitching at the suggestion. He ran his hands through her dark, touseled hair. “Because you look so fucking good with your lips on my dick while I fuck your mouth. And when you lick my cum off your lips.” He managed to sti up, gently encouraging her to come forward to meet him. She tasted of her arousal and his cum when he kissed her.

“But I’d rather watch you ride me,” he murmured, cupping her bare breast as he kissed her again. “I want to watch you enjoying this thick dick, watch you fuck yourself on me until you milk my cum out.” Lightly, he pinched her nipple. “I want to see how fucking good you look with my cum dripping from your hot wet cunt.”
 
Marta loved listening to Peter talk. When he would expound upon physics, or gush about his favorite fictional characters. And when he talked dirty? There was an elegant simplicity to his words, straightforward and filthy. He spoke the words aloud, and the fantasy came alive in her mind. She wanted it, and more, she wanted to please him. A slow hissed left her lips as he pinched her, then she responded to his words with a smirk.

Still slick with his cum, she slid down his length Body erect, she rolled her hips over his, grinding herself on his throbbing cock. Teasing her own throbbing clit, until need drove her to bounce higher on him. “You like this?” she moaned out, head thrown back with her growing pleasure. “Tell me… how good I… I feel on you. Tell me that I… feel as good… as you do.”

The wet slap of skin on skin built, louder and faster with her own moans. “Fuck, your cock… So thick… filling me…” Her breasts swayed with her momentum, her nipples aching for his touch. Leaning forward, with her hands braced on his shoulders, she could fucked him harder, faster, more friction building as she rode his entire length.

And there was something fun about the act of holding him down, beneath her, while she took his cock. He probably could push her off, if he wanted, but she knew he wouldn’t. Especially not as her slit squeezed him, her orgasm both inevitable and sudden. Her thighs locked around his hips and she went rigid, captive to the rapture that moved in waved through her body.
 
“Fuck, yes,” Pete husked out, hands sliding over Marta’s legs as she slowly slid down his shaft. “You... feel so, so fucking good... on me.”

She rolled her hips, rising and falling on him, first cling him fast and slow, fast and slow. “You like this?” she moaned out, head thrown back with her growing pleasure.

His hands gripped her hips, fingernails biting into her skin. “You... you know I do,” he husked, arching his back to offer her more. “God... fuck me...”

“Tell me… how good I… I feel on you,” she demanded, breasts swaying as she rode him. “Tell me that I… feel as good… as you do.”

“You ... feel so... so good...” he gasped out, sliding by his hands over her thighs and ass. “So good on my cock, Marta.” He gasped as she squeezed his length. “Fuck, Marta. Fuck me. Fuck my thick dick with that tight cunt of yours.”

She leaned into him, bracing herself on his shoulders to ride him harder. He rolled his hips, meeting her with his thrusts, hands sliding between them to cup her breasts. “Fuck, your cock…” she moaned, gasping as he rolled and pinched her nipples. “So thick… filling me…”

He pushed up on her breasts, sucking and biting at one nipple and then another, thumb and finger working the one his lips abandoned. “His, Marta,” he gasped, “fuck... fuck the cum... out of... me...”. He bit a nipple, listening to her eager gasp as she fucked herself on his length. “Make... make me... fill you... with... with my... cum..,”

She cried out, thighs squeezing his hips and cunt gripping his cock as she climaxed. He grabbed a fistful of her wavy black hair, tasting the sounds of her pleasure as he dragged her lips to his. His free hand gripped her hip, working her up and down his cock. Then he cried out as well, ecstasy flooding through him as he emptied itself into her.

When he could catch his breath he wrapped his arms around her, caressing her back and rebelling in the feel of her skin on his. “Damn,” he gasped. “That was... incredible.” He kissed her gently. “You’re incredible.”

Shifting his arm a little, he tapped his smartwatch. “I’ve got an idea,” he said with a tired, wicked grin. Then he kissed her again. “A surprise, once we’re ready for that shower.”
 
Marta sagged into Peter’s embrace, sinking into the warmth of his body and their union. A pleasant exhaustion passed through her in a jaw cracking yawn, and she found it hard to believe that the clock only showed 8:15. It was nice to think they’d get a full night’s sleep after a marathon fucking session. It wasn’t the best part of the gate experiments, but it was pretty nice.

“A surprise, huh?” Marta cooed, sliding her sweaty figure against Peter’s. She took another kiss, more lips than tongue, and offered a sleepy smile. “Good, I like surprises.” She spent a few more minutes resting in his arms, her entire body still heavy in the aftermath of yet another orgasm.

Finally, she forced herself up, making her naked way through the apartment. Most of her stuff had been packed into boxes or brought over to Peter’s, since moving in a couple weeks back. They hadn’t brought everything over, mostly leaving behind the duplicate housewares that would have just taken up space at Peter’s place. It didn’t take long to find a couple towels, and she’d left a couple nearly empty bottles of body and shampoo behind, figuring it was easier just to buy new stuff to take over with her. What remained was enough for tonight.

Besides, she figured Peter wasn’t all that concerned about getting clean, in any case. Or, at least, not just about getting clean.
 
Pete ran the water, waiting for it to heat up, then checked the time. He thought about it for a moment, then hit the combination of buttons that took a screen shot. He’d want to make sure to get it right, after all. Assuming he made this work. It should work. They’d already proven that.

Steam was beginning to fog the mirror when Marta walked in, carrying towels. “I’ll be honest,” he said, taking the and tossing them in the sink, “that’s the last thing I was thinking about.” With that he pulled her into the shower with him, hands exploring her curves as he kissed her. “Maybe I should try to be more practical?”

He kissed her again, tongue parting her lips to taste her. His hands slipped over her skin, lubricated by the hot water spraying across them. Then the curtain parted, and a second pair of hands joined in. “Or maybe not,” Pete whispered into her ear, his hard body pressing against her back.

“Relax,” Pete assured her, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her again. The other Pete rested his hands on her hips, kissing her throat. “It’s me, from about two hours from now,” he said.

Pete’s hands trailed down her throat and over her shoulders. “You certainly liked the idea of two men, when we were in the hotel,” he whispered. The other Pete pulled her back against his chest, cupping her breasts. Pete lowered his mouth to them, alternating between them as he kissed and licked her nipples. “So, in about an hour,” the other Pete continued, slowly grinding his shaft against her ass, “I’ll gate back to our place, and recalibrate the gate. Then I’ll go through, and drive over.”

The other Pete’s fingers took over teasing her nipples as Pete slowly went to his knees, kissing his way down her stomach as he did. He kissed her, tongue slipping into her mouth as Pete’s tongue parted the lips of her cunt. “You have the sexiest expression,” he whispered, “when I’m eating you out.”
 
Peter’s words left Marta cognizant of her expression, with her lips parted and her eyelids heavy and half closed. Already she was sensitive enough that the heat of Peter’s breath sent shivers through her body, and she was grateful for the second Peter behind her, because when he ran his tongue over her clit her legs trembled and grew weak. “You do take such good care of me…”

One finger joined his tongue inside her, and then another, pushing open her tight walls. Her slit made a moist sucking sound as she took him. Her slippery ass grinded against the other Peter, against his stirring erection as she shifted to spread herself wider, and offer more of herself to the Peter on his knees.

However, instead of fucking her deeper and harder, Peter withdrew his fingers, and thrust his tongue deep into her channel. His fingers weren’t done, so it seemed, trailing back over her perineum to circle the firm ring of muscles of her ass. The pressure of one slick digit drew a gasp from her, using the lube of her own climaxes and Peter’s seed, he pushed it deeper and deeper in side her.

Half-way in, he retreated, just an inch or so, and pushed back into, fucking her in a slow, steady rhythm that stretched her anal walls and prepared her to take even more.

The building anticipation was nearly as hot as Peter’s ministrations, fucking her with finger and tongue, and knowing soon it would be both of them instead. Ecstasy burst from her lips in breathy rasps, “Peter… oh fuck Peter… you feel so fucking good…” She leaned into the other Peter, pleasure making her entire body heavy, and took a needy kiss from his lips, gasping again as a second finger pushed into her ass.

Bliss coiled tight in her gut, tight around his penetrating fingers and his skilled tongue and against even the thoughts in her head, transforming into a jumbled mosaic of rapture and desire. Her cries echoed off the bathroom walls, louder than the rushing stream of the shower, and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Peter!”
 
“That’s it,” Peter whispered in her ear as his past self fingered and licked her. His hands slid over her breasts, flattening them against his chest as she moaned and writhed under the attentions he remembered giving her. “God, you tasted so good.”

“Peter… “ she gasped out in a throaty rush, “oh fuck Peter… you feel so fucking good…”. A tremor wracked her as she gripped his hair and kissed him, gasping into his mouth as his past self’s finger penetrated her ass.

“You feel better,” he grinned, stroking his hard shaft against her rear, matching the pace of the tongue in her cunt and finger in her ass. “And you’re going to feel even better.” His fingers clenched on her nipples and his teeth left little half-moon marks on the back of her neck. She writhed against him, one hand gripping his hair, the other gripping his past self’s hair.

“Peter!” She shouted, crying out as she climaxed in his tongue.

He slithered up her body, letting her feel his skin sliding over his, tasting her pleasure and letting her taste her own in his tongue as he kissed her. “We’re not done,” he promised, gripping her throat as his future self tasted her irgasm as he kissed her. His hands slipped over her hips, and his future self helped lift her. Her lips slipped over his cock as the two Petes moved her into position, and he gasped as he felt her slick heat swallow his meat.

“You enjoyed the fantasy of two men, in the hotel,” he whispered against her lips. His hands slid over the curve of her ass, spreading her. “And I remember how much you enjoyed the reality,” the future Pete added, gripping his cock and pressing the head against the tight ring of muscle. He pushed slowly, letting her adjust as his head and then the rest of him filled her ass.

Both Petes slipped one of her arms around their necks, letting her support herself between them as their hands slid over her wet flesh. They took turns thrusting, pressing her body against the other with their weight, driving both cocks deep into her with each thrust. “I want to feel you cum on me again,” Pete whispered, kissing her as he drove into her. “I’m going to feel you cum on me again,” the other Pete promised, catching her lips as he pressed her back into his past self.
 
Marta hadn’t completely recovered from her orgasm before Peter pushed his thick cock back into her, and she trembled against and around him. “Pe… Peter,” she sighed, already delirious with ecstasy, and future Peter hadn’t even joined in yet.

But when he did? “Oh, oh god,” she gasped, eyes wide as he fit himself within her. Nearly painful in the best possible way, Marta swayed with their opposing motions, taking each man and offering every inch of herself to both of them.

Soon words, and even his name, was too difficult to manage, too full of cock to think of anything else. Her cries were wordless sounds of delight, filling the bathroom and echoing off the walls. The noises didn’t stop, not even as one man or the other captured her lips in a kiss, his tongue just barely muffling her passion.

Where words failed her, her body succeeded in begging for him. More of Peter, of both Peters, more of their cocks and the unbearable pressure of both men filling her, and the burning friction and the familiar clenching and trapped both men balls deep inside her. Voice now hoarse, only the deep quivering of her muscles could declare her rapture.

An eternity of clenching and rippling and fluttering over both men left her limp between them, slightly dizzy from the pleasure that didn’t seem to stop. Just when she thought –hoped– she might be done, this Peter would thrust deeper, or the other would flex against tight muscles, and her nirvana would reignite.
 
“I jerked off before I came back,” Pete whispered as he drove Marta into his past self, “remembering how fucking hot you looked between us.” He gasped as his past self gripped Marta’s hip and rocked forward, sinking his cock deeper into her ass. “I wanted to last,” he continued, cupping her breasts so his past self could feast on them as he drove into her, “so I could watch myself cum in you.”

Was it what he was saying that made her moan? Or was it the way his two cocks - past and present - filled her without mercy? Probably both, he decided. “Maybe you should watch next time,” he continued, teeth nipping at her lip as he pressed her body against his past self. “Watch me stroking myself until I cum?” His hand pulled her hair, drawing his ear to her lips as his past self left crescent-shaped bite marks on the caramel skin of her throat. “Finger yourself and wait for me to spray cum on those fine tits of yours?”

His past self gasped and arched his head, thrusting hard. From his memories and Marta’s gasps, he knew he was orgasming right now. “Fuck I look good, cumming in you,” he whispered. “Do I feel good? Does it feel good, feeling me cum?”

Gripping Marta’s hips he pushed her against himself, his meat pistoning faster and harder in her ass. “I’m close,” he said, biting her ear and watching her body slide over his. “I... want you... feeling my... my cum... dripping out.. of you. Out... of both... both holes... at... at... once... MARTA!”

His orgasm erupted painfully, his cock swelling and pulsing in her colon, flooding her ass with his seed. He rocked into her, gasping and biting at the back of her throat as he spent himself in her, watching her hungrily kiss his past self as he did. Finally, gasping for breath, he braced himself against the shower wall and helped support her.

“Oh... oh fuck...” his past self breathed. He caught another kiss, then eyed himself. “Do we ever get cleaned off?”

Pete grinned at himself. “Dunno. I guess you’ll find out in a few hours.” Slowly, he let his softening meat slip from Marta’s ass. “But help me rinse her off and pour her into bed, before you go.”
 
Utterly exhausted and perfectly content, Marta allowed her Peters to rinse her off and dress her for bed. More kisses and caresses followed, but Marta was far too sated and tired to act on any of them. But she wore a silly smile as they tucked her into bed, and she was deep asleep before Peter left to fuck her past self.

The next few weeks past without incident, as they gathered together supplies to prepare for their trip back in time. Peter had seen to the more practical supplies, survival gear incase they had to spend a few days in the past, while she took care to ensure they'd fit into the historical context. Now that everything was ready, they donned their outfits and prepared to make the jump. Both wore traditional and authentic Algonquin clothing, her in a long dress, him in top and breeches made from moose and deer hide. Since it was late October, they also both had a bear fur cloak for warmth. Frow a distance, they'd pass for Native, and Marta that would be enough.

"So," she started, nervous excitement pumping in her veins, "are we ready to go?"

***

"Marta, Peter! So glad you can join us this evening," Luis Delgado welcomed with exuberance. He kissed Marta on both cheeks, and offer Peter a hearty handshake.

"It is absolutely our honor to be here tonight," Marta intoned. Peter removed her coat for her, revealing the low cut blue dress she wore. It clung to her slender figure, leaving little to the imagination. Both Luis and Selena appraised her with approving glances.

As far as Marta was concerned, Peter looked just as good, wearing a black suit coat over a black button up, with the top few buttons undone to reveal the delectably bare skin of his smooth chest. Anticipation for tonight's affair warmed her blood, but she was in no hurry. They'd have all evening to enjoy themselves.

"I am quite eager to see this dagger in person," Marta declared, sidling up to Luis.

With a playful smirk on his face, and an arm around her shoulder, fingers stroking her bare arm, he lead her down the hallway. "Of course, right this way."

Selena leaned into Peter, her arm looped in with his, flashing her own sultry smile. With the look she was giving him, Marta half e expected her to drag him into the first empty room and suck him dry. Not that she minded those intentions, because seducing the Delgados was phase one of their plan tonight.

"This dagger you have acquired is quite the unusual relic. It is indeed a sacrificial blade, but not for the typical Aztec sacrifice. You these symbols," Marta explained, drawing Luis closer by pointing them out, "these symbols refer to a being worshipped by a small cult, an offshoot of the main religion. They served a being named Nyarlathotep, and made sacrifices in time with the phases of the moon."
 
“Am I ready?” Pete adjusted his deer hide tunic, and swallowed nervously. “I guess so. I mean, we know it’ll work.”

They’d already made two quick trips back to 1690, caching their survival gear - solar chargers for their electronics, spare phones with the gate app loaded and set, emergency food and water purification tablets, spare clothes, and a tent. Massachusetts in 1690 was in the grip of the Little Ice Age, after all, and they wanted to be prepared. Just in case.

With a quick, nervous smile at Marta, Pete tapped the gate app and activated it. Moments later the familiar circular rip in space-time manifested, revealing a view of dense forest beyond. Drawing a deep breath, he stepped through.

It was like stepping into a refrigerator.

Pete exhaled and breathed back in, getting a lungful of frosty air scented with mulch and damp leaves. “Nobody around,” he reported with some relief. Getting hanged as a witch would ruin their day. He checked the duffel bags they’d concealed beneath a fallen tree. “And everything’s still here. You ready?”

When Marta nodded, he tapped the app again. The gate winked out of existence, taking the sight of their living room with it. Despite himself, he felt a frisson of fear run through his guts. They’d come here before, but they’d never shut the gate before.

Reflexively, he checked his phone. No signal, but the charge was at 100%. His thumb hovered over the app. Then, almost forcing himself, he put in a pouch with the backup battery. “Damn,” he laughed, wiping his hands on his leggings. “This feels... exciting.”

They were, he knew, three miles west of the surveyed outskirts of 1690’s Arkham. So he checked the hiking compass he’d packed, and got his bearings. “That way,” he said, pointing, before making an unnecessary observation. “We’ll want to avoid spending a lot of time in town, though.”

Laughing nervously, he tucked the compass away. “Shall we?”

-*-

Selena wasn’t as drop-dead gorgeous as Marta, Pete decided, but she was close. Of course, he decided with a wry smile, he was perhaps a little biased. Marta wore her blue dress like it had been painted on, and she’d had to playfully slap his hands away when he’d tried to check that he could get it off her again.

Still, Seline’s black cocktail dress showed the rich man’s wife off to good advantage, and the jewelry she wore accented her cleavage and bare arms delightfully. And she was warm as she nestled in against him, and the movement of her hands on his arm and waist left no doubt where she planned the evening to go.

But for now, the dagger. Pete felt a thrill of excitement course through him as Luis donned white calfskin gloves and lifted it from the case for Marta to examine. This was the moment of truth. Was it genuine?

“This dagger you have acquired is quite the unusual relic,” Marta declared, and Pete fought to stifle his grin of delight. “It is indeed a sacrificial blade, but not for the typical Aztec sacrifice.”

“Oh?” Luis sounded puzzled and delighted. “Then What is it?”

Marta drew him closer, leaning into him as her finger hovered above the hieroglyphs. “You these symbols - these symbols refer to a being worshipped by a small cult, an offshoot of the main religion. They served a being named Nyarlathotep, and made sacrifices in time with the phases of the moon."

“A moon cult?” Seline asked, breathless. “But I thought the Aztec moon goddess was Coyolxauhqui?”

Crap, Pete thought. Time to distract her. “I’d guess,” he said, running a finger over the back of her neck and down her spine, enjoying the sensation as his touch transitioned from bare skin to the thin fabric of the dress, “that the Aztec Empire was a large and diverse nation.” She wasn’t wearing a bra, a least. “There may have been local Gods, along with the state religion.”. Possibly no panties either, he decided as his finger reached the base of her spine. “At least, I think that’s how it worked in Rome, right?”

“Right,” Luis agreed, distracted for a moment by his wife’s delighted sigh. Then he turned his attention back to the dagger. “But I’ve never heard of this, uhm, Ni-are-lat-hotep?” His tongue stumbled over the name. “It sounds... Egyptian.”

Pete rested his wandering hand on the curve of Selene’s ass, squeezing so lightly that she’d have to wonder if he really did it. “I dunno. It’s all Greek to me.”
 
“We don’t actually know what this cult group called that being. Remember, the Aztec language, Nahuatl, did not possess a phonetic alphabet until after the Spanish arrived. Before that, they used symbols, similar to hieroglyphics, as mnemonic devices in combination with a strong oral tradition.” It wasn’t hard for Marta to fall into the pattern of a lecturer, speaking with the same cadence and projection she did in her classes. “Since this cult died out before the Spanish arrived, we don’t know how they would have pronounced this being’s name. Nyarlathotep is an Egyptian name for a similarly described being.”

What the Delgados didn’t need to know what they she did indeed know the name this cult had given him. Xitlalzoh. She’d learn this when she and Peter traveled to 12th century Azatlan, and participated in a ritual. But things could get messy if she confessed that knowledge, knowledge she could only possess with access to the wormhole.

“As you already know, Aztec believed that the sun god, Tonatiuh, was in a state of constant battle against the darkness, and required human sacrifice to regain his strength. This cult took this belief a step further, and even the moon needed to feast on the blood of the innocent to regain its strength.”

“Fascinating,” Luis breathed, so close his heat radiated against her body. “So, this is a very rare piece?”

“It might be one of a kind, as far as this cult is concerned. The entirety of them died out in the late 12th century, in mass suicide on the night of a lunar eclipse.”

“They killed themselves?” Selena asked with mingled horror and intrigue in her tone. She drew closer to Peter, with a hand on his chest. “How dreadful.”

“Indeed,” Marta agreed, placing a hand on Luis’ shoulder. “So much of what they believed was lost in a single evening under the cover of darkness.”

“That certainly puts a damper on how excited I am allowed to be with find.” Luis chuckled ruefully, and placed the dagger back in the display case. “But it’s nothing that dinner can’t fix. Shall we?”

“Absolutely,” Marta purred, leaning in close to Luis again, their bodies touching. “I am positively famished. And I suppose I could eat, as well.”

***​

“Goode Brown’s cabin is on the outskirts of Arkham. Once we find it, I think our best bet is to stick around close there, and try to run into her while she’s alone.” Marta would have thought a lifetime spent in New England prepared her for the harsh winters here, but it wasn’t even winter here yet, and Marta shivered against a chill breeze. “Hopefully she’ll invite us inside.”

Pete’s calculations had gotten them close, and they found Sebelah’s cottage within an hour. And even more fortuitous, Sebelah was home, harvesting the last of her crops for the season. They remained hidden in the overgrowth of the forest, watching from a distance. Good, now all they needed was a strategy for approaching her. Marta was about to discuss that with Peter, when Sebelah turned, and she finally got a good look at her face.

It wasn’t the color of Sebelah’s skin that threw Marta off guard. The records indicated her mother was a freed slave, so Marta expected a woman with a darker complexion. What she didn’t expected was the golden ocher glow or the light hazel eyes that had been a comforting presence for so long.

She was the spitting image of Nkendi.

Marta had thought less and less of her ex as things with Peter grew more serious. She’d almost completely moved past the devasting heartbreak since she thrown herself headfirst into this new relationship and research. All of those feeling came rushing back now.

Swallowing hard, she finally managed to speak. “Maybe this was a mistake,” Marta suggested, urging herself to look away from Sebelah. “What are we even going to say? Neither of us speak Ojibwe, and if walk up speaking English, she’s probably going to see through our disguises instantly.”

Sebelah stopped what she was doing, and cocked her head. “Is someone there?”

Terror gripped Marta heart, and locked her in place. Terror, and recognition. That was Nkendi’s voice! They’d come to Sebelah brown for answer, but Marta had even more questions. The most burning of which was “What are we going to do?”
 
Pete stared at Sebelah Brown, barely registering what Marta was saying. How could he? He was staring at Chantelle, and how the hell had she gotten here? He’d never insult her intelligence, but she was working on a Fine Arts degree with a business minor! Nothing about her studies lent itself to quantum physics and Einstein-Rosen bridges!

No, no. It was a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence!

“She probably doesn’t speak Ojibwa either,” he muttered, squeezing Marta’s hand. “We’ll just claim we were taught by a missionary, and bluff.”

Sebelah hefted her sickle. “I said,” she repeated, hand tightening and loosening on the handle, “is anyone there?”

Squeezing Marta’s hand, Pete ran through what little he knew about Native Americans as he rose. “How,” he said in a deep voice, holding up his hand. “We come-um heap long distance, make-um trade.”

Chan - no, Sebelah - cocked an eyebrow at his words, making her appear even more like his old girlfriend. Then she relaxed a little, and smiled. “Oh, yes,” she said, lowering her scythe and gathering up her harvest. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

She led them around her vegetable patch and into her home, a cozy structure built half of field stone and half of timber, with a roof shingles with bark. The inside was clean and neat, with simple furniture and a shelf containing several books. Pete notes Principia Mathematica among them, along with a Bible.

“You’re no Algonquin,” she said as she fed sticks into a banked fire. “More like a Spaniard and a Chinaman.” Bending down, she scooped up a long stick. No, Pete realized, not a stick. A dark green snake that coiled up her arm and around her neck. A snake very much like the one Chan had kept in herThe hairs on his neck stood on end as it hissed into her ear.

She smiled, stroking the sleek scaled head. “And you’ve traveled far, piercing the mysteries that lie cloaked behind the spheres.” Her free hand rested meaningfully on the sickle she’d tucked into her sash. “Who are you really, and what brings you to my home?”

-*-

There was a hungry expression on Pete’s face as he watched Luis replace the dagger, and it remained as he watched Marta brush up against Luis. Enjoying the display, he offered Selina his arm. She took it and pressed against him, making sure he felt the sway of her hips as she walked. “I’m glad you accepted our invitation,” she remarked, clearly addressing both of them. “What inspired you to change your minds?”

“An appreciation for the finer things in life?” he responded, pressing back against her. She giggled. “That, and some careful review of the university Code of Ethics.”

“Hm?” Luis gave him a quick, curious glance. “What do you mean!”

“Well,” Pete replied. “We’re restricted on the kind of interactions we can have with donors and potential donors, right?” He grinned. “But we’re not here in any official university capacity. Just two private citizens on personal time.”

“Ah. I see.” Luis scowled. “Are you sure that interpretation would stand scrutiny?”

Pete shrugged. “I don’t plan to go out of my way to find out.”
 
Sebelah was sharp –as expected of the woman who formulated advanced calculus equations almost entirely on her own. She’d sussed out their nationalities at a glance, at least as far as deciding they weren’t natives. The truth was their best, and really, only option here.

“We are Marta and Peter, and yes, we traveled through the wormholes. The ‘mysteries cloaked behind the spheres’, as you called them. We are actually from the distant future, about three hundred years or so.” Marta released a nervous laugh, wondering how much Sebelah believed. Anyone, any normal person would balk at what she was describing, and it wasn’t unreasonable that a Puritan would believe them to be honest to God witches.

Sebelah cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, “You traveled through time using the… wormhole? Is that what you call the portal between spheres?”

Good, she seemed to believe them. Or, was at least open to the idea. “Yes. We came here to meet you.”

“Why me?”

“Well, it was your notes that we used to complete our equations, and eventually open up a portal that allow us to travel through spacetime.”

“Spacetime?”

Sebelah brown was a gifted mathematical mind, but she was still a product of her time, and so much of the framework of what Marta had to explain just wasn’t present for her. But she seemed to pick things up quickly. “It’s a combination of spatial dimensions, and time. Like, if we could use numbers to describe our location, we could use another number to describe our point in time.” Marta winced at the explanation. Peter would probably do a better job of illustrating it.

“So, a point in time is another variable. Interesting.” She pulled a notebook off the shelf –one Marta recognized from her studies, and jotted down some notes. “So, if movement through time is possible, there is necessarily multiple time branches, so another variable would be specific branches and–“

“Timelines. We call them timelines.”

Sebelah narrowed her eyes at that. “Why?” Marta opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it, taking a moment to consider the answer to that question. Instead of waiting, Sebelah continued, “Lines doesn’t make sense. A line is a connect between two points, defined and singular. Can time even have a beginning or end point? And if travel through time is possible, then instances would inevitably break off from one another, forming branches that deviate from central points into infinite occurrences.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, “Marta agreed with a laugh, reliving times she’d entertained Nkendi’s philosophizing and questioning. “The idea that time travel is possible is still new to us, and mostly unknown to our contemporaries. I mean, people imagine it as a possibility, and consider what the ramifications of it and…” Marta released a long breath, “I’m rambling, aren’t I? As far as Peter and I know, we are the first and only people to successfully travel through time using the portals, but I think it’s rather likely there are others who have, without anyone knowing.”

***

Dinner was delightful, a whole fried black sea bass, freshly caught according to Luis, over a tomatillo sauce. Marta sat across from Peter, with Luis and Selena on either side of her, and the meal passed with suggestive conversation and subtle touches and caresses, pleasingly reciprocated by their hosts.

“There was a fascinating paper I read, not so long ago about the function of witch burnings within the medieval and early colonial period, and how they paralleled the lynchings of the 19th and 20th century. This inspired my latest research, into how accusations of witchcraft have served to oppress the intellectual curiosity of women and their own advancements in the sciences.” She took a deep drink of the wine, “It’s not exactly a sexy field of study, unfortunately.”

“Perhaps,” Luis conceded, running his finger over her knuckles, “but I find it incredibly sexy to listen to you speak on such topics with such passion and expertise. The mind is truly the sexiest body part.”

Marta twisted her hand, so that his finger traced her palm instead. “Well, if you like intelligence, you just have to listen Peter expound upon his latest research on rectifying the antimatter problem of the big bang theory. It certainly gets me all hot and bothered.” She allowed herself a sultry giggle, and gripped Luis’ finger, dipping it in the leftover sauce and bringing it to her mouth. Stark red lips wrapped around his finger and sucked the sauce off in a way that wasn’t subtle in the slightest. “Or, perhaps we can retire to somewhere more comfortable first?”
 
“I don’t think you’re the first,” Sebelah remarked thoughtfully. “That hag Keziah has made claims like that, cackling about how the Black Man’s favor has carried her away to see ages to come. I always took it as allegory, but...”

“Black man?” Pete asked. “What would an African-American have to do with it?”

Sebelah gave him a look of blank confusion. “African American? What is...?”

“No, I mean,” Pete tried again, reminding himself that this woman wasn’t Chan and wouldn’t understand 21st century terms. “What would a negro have to do with this Keziah traveling through time?”

“Negro..?” Sebelah stared at him for a moment before comprehension dawned. Then she laughed. “No, no! I don’t know what adepts like yourselves call Him in the future, but I refer to the Black Man of the Sabbat, the Horned Lord.” She watched their reactions. “The Keeper of the Black Book? She be of the Ten Thousand Masks of the Audient Void?”

“I don’t...” Pete began.

Sebelah shook her head, astounded. “Fascinating. I must fly through time, and learn more of the distant future. But you must have studied the lore of the Emerald Tablets if you have mastered the gates. Perhaps you know Him as the Greek Hermès Trismegistus, or as the Egyptian Thoth? Or by the name He wore in the days of Nephren-Ka, before the great pyramids were reared?” Her voice fell to a reverent whisper. “Nyarlathotep?”

-*-

Luis swallowed hard as Marta sucked at his finger. “Yes,” he agreed, licking his lips. “Perhaps we should. Selina?”

Selina licked her lips as well. “Of course,” she agreed, leaning again not Pete. “We should all be more comfortable, I think.”

Luis rose, taking Marta’s hand and escorting her to the door. Pete followed suit. “The antimatter problem, of course,” he said with grave sincerity, “is one of the most vexing problems of cosmology. The theory of relativity calls for the production of matter and antimatter in equal amounts, and so the early universe should have annihilated itself fractions of a second after the Big Bang. But clearly,” he gestured around, “it didn’t.”

The room Luis led them into was a greenhouse. No, Pete corrected himself, a conservatory. The air was warm and humid, and thick with the scent of rich earth and growing plants. A narrow path led to a clearing, containing low benches and a clear view of the stars through the foliage and the glass ceiling.

“How do you resolve the problem?” Selina asked as Pete slowed his pace, falling a step behind her. She shivers delightfully as his hands slid like ghosts over her hips. Before her, Luis leaned in and whispered something to Marta.

“Parallel universes,” Pete whispered, breath warm on the name of her neck.

“Parallel universes?” She replied, voice husky. She leaned back against his chest, watching Marta take a seat next to her husband. “Like the idea that everything that could happen does happen somewhere?”

“Yes.” Pete’s hands gripped her hips, and his teeth grazed her ear. “For instance,” he murmured as Marta kissed Luis, “there’s a universe where we watch your husband fuck Marta, enjoying the sight of her taking his cock in front of us.” He ground his erection against her as Luis slowly hiked up Marta’s skirt. “And another where...”

“Where..?” She prompted.

His hands skimmed up her body, easing the dress from her shoulders. “Where I fuck you at the same time, trying to make both of them jealous.” He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples as he nipped her earlobe. “Which universe is this, I wonder?”
 
Luis’ hand skimmed her bare thighs, while his lips skimmed her jaw up to her ear. “Are they watching us?”

Marta leaned back, catching Peter’s gaze as he cupped Selena’s pert breasts. “Oh, they’re watching. And rather enjoying themselves, I do believe.” Selena’s moan gave truth to Marta’s words.

“Good.” Luis’ finger trailed over her knee, and slide back up the inside of her thighs. In response, she spread herself wider, inviting his touch. Questing fingers discovered she wore nothing beneath her dress, nothing but her frank desire. Luis hummed in approval, and traced her dripping lips, “We’ve both wanted you for some time.”

Marta pulled Luis closer, teasing his lips with hers, until he opened his mouth to her tongue, “Was I worth the wait?”

“I hope so.” He pushed into then, pushing his tongue into her mouth at the same time.

~*~

“Nyarlathotep isn’t real,” Marta argued with a nervous laugh. But nightmares of the Black Sabbath roared back to the forefront of her mind, about the strange ritual where her sister carved into her own hand, and bid Marta to do the same. “It’s some sort of myth, isn’t it?”

“The Black Man is no myth,” Sebelah insisted, dark eyes narrowed. “You’ve had the dreams, haven’t you?”

“They’re just dreams,” Marta insisted, for her own sanity more than anything.

“The dreams told me you would come,” Sebelah challenged, smiling that triumph smile Nkendi always gave her when she made a good point. “And here you are.”

“The dreams told us to come,” Marta admitted, despite herself.

“And here you are.”
 
Selina bit her lip, eyes heavy-lidded at Pete’s touch and the sight of her husband’s fingers working beneath Marta’s skirt. “Awfully confident, aren’t you?” She whispered, lacing her fingers with Pete’s as he squeezed her breasts.

“I am,” Pete replied, scraping his teeth over her throat and smiling as she shivered. “Because I know a secret.”

“What secret?” She whispered back.

“I know,” he whispered, pulling his hands from her grasp and sliding them over her stomach, “that Marta came here intending to fuck your husband.” He gripped the fabric of her gown, taking a moment to savor the sight of Marta’s body arching against Luis’ lips and probing fingers. Then he tugged, letting it pool around her ankles. “And she asked me to fuck you at the same time, so she can taste me in you.”

Selina gasped as he bent his knees, giving him room to trace her slick lips with his fingers. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Selina groaned.

“Taking my cock while your husband fucks another woman in front of you?” Pete whispered, biting her earlobe. “Feeling another man cum in you while Marta takes your husband’s cock?”

“Yes,” she groaned.

“Beg me,” he demanded, lightly pinching her clit. “Beg me to fuck you, so your husband can hear.”

-*-

“Now hold on,” Pete interrupted. “We decided to come. As a proof of concept for the wormholes.”

“Worm... holes?” Sebelah repeated the term hesitantly, with the quizzical expression Char had always worn when he started getting technical.

“The gates,” he clarified. “When I worked out that they could be used for time travel, we decided to come meet you.”

“But you have had the dreams,” Sebelah countered, with Char’s smug know-it-all tone. “The dreams calling you to the Sabbat.” She hesitated. “But... why me?”

“Because we stumbled onto your work,” he said, trying to avoid discussing the eerie, erotic dreams. “It inspired our own research, and we wanted to meet you.”

“Really?” She clapped her hands in delight. “That bitch Keziah will eat her heart out over this!” A grin. “Well... what do you think?”

“To be honest,” Pete replied, “we expected someone... older.”
 
Sebelah simpered, dark eyes gleaming in mischievous glee, “Sound like you made a mistake, then. After all, you travelled through time, and picked this date as your destination. For all you know of me, surely you could have figured out how old I’d be now?”

“Perhaps older isn’t quite the right term. More mature perhaps?” Marta shrugged, and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Some of that is because of the complexity and intricacy of your work, but some of it is likely do to our own understanding of Puritan culture. It’s far different from our culture, in our time.”

“What’s it like?” Sebelah asked, shin in her palm.

Marta blew out a long breath, “I am not even sure where to begin answering that one.” With a nervous laugh, she spared Peter a glance. “I suppose the biggest difference that would make sense to you is that these colonies band together to demand independence from England, and manage to win it.”

“These little colonies manage to defeat England?” Somehow, this fact seemed more incredulous to her than the original statement that they traveled through time.

“With significant help from the French.” Marta laughed, feeling herself fall back into familiar and comforting patterns. But guilt accompanied those feelings, because Peter was right there, and he was her lover now, and he hadn’t left her after they’d built a life together.

Besides, Sebelah wasn’t Nkendi. She just looked like her and sounded like her and acted like her.

Clearing her throat, Marta changed the subject, “So, how did you come up with these equations? I’ve read through your notes, but they don’t really explain the thought process behind them.”

~*~

Marta didn’t hide her pleasure, her moans ghosting over Luis’s lips as he worked a single, thick finger in and out of her. She hadn’t expected the billionaire to actually what he was doing in bed –or, in the courtyard, as they were, currently– but was delighted to be mistaken in this case. That would make the evening all the more enjoyable.

One arm wrapped around Luis’ shoulders, and the other worked herself out of her gown. It wasn’t easy, not while getting fingered, but it was delicious to rub herself against Luis in the process. Once she was nude, she lay on her back, spreading herself wider to take another finger, while Luis explored her neck and breasts with his mouth.

“Fuck me.” Selena’s voice rang out behind them, her tone sharp, needy. “Please fuck me.” Luis glanced over, groaning at the sight of her wife, naked beneath moonlight, sagged against Peter. “I want your cock inside me.”

Marta drew his attention back to her by grabbing his hand, the one soaked in her lust, and bringing it to her mouth, sucking her flavor from the digit. His eyes never left hers, and he ground against her, clearly imagining her using that mouth elsewhere. But as soon as she pulled off, he devoured her mouth, greedily seeking the traces of her lust from her lips and tongue. While the kiss consumed him, she began working on the buttons of his shirt, peeling away his clothes, layer by layer.
 
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