Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

“I have a hard time imagining we had as much fun as you two,” Marta teased, casting her gaze over towards the pile of note books on the coffee table. “But I hope you worked up an appetite.”

Dinner was spent comparing and contrasting pop culture, as a diversion from the science and math talk. Though, towards the end of the meal, the other Marta detailed a brief timeline from the colonial period through the revolution, and Marta lost herself taking notes of all the differences. The opened a second bottle of wine, but Marta seriously considered putting on a pot of coffee instead.

The other Marta nearly had to drag her Peter out of the cabin after dinner, and only after they made plans to share more notes and discussion the next day. Once they finished washing the dinner dishes, Marta joined Peter on the couch with a glass of wine.

“I think I like it here. I don’t know if we want to stay here permanently –apparently sexism targets men here? But it’s so nice to have a pair of like-minded allies. A version of us that aren’t terrifying, psychotic murderers.” With a sigh, she took a deep drink of her wine.

“Don’t tell the other you, but… well, she’s planning on proposing.” Marta giggled, and snuggled in closer to Peter. She was quiet for a time, letting him respond to that thought, and just letting it roll around her own mind for a few heartbeats, before speaking up again.

“Can I admit to being a little jealous that they are building a future together that I wished we could have had? You know, if the Circle hadn’t infiltrated our lives.” She clung a little closer then, reliving the betrayal of the other Peter pulling a knife on her in bed. Remembering the stomach-churning sight of her own corpse.

“I hope they’re happy together. Assuming you don’t steal all of his focus with the equations and the theories and the possibilities.”

Her expression hardened, and turned serious. “But we can’t let them open a gate. Not too soon, anyways. Not if that’s what attracts the attention of the circle. Not until we have a plan, first.”
 
“The lack of psychotic murder is nice,” Pete agreed, wrapping an arm around Marta. “I was beginning to worry that the only us-es we’d meet that didn’t want to kill us were our own future selves.” He sipped his wine. “And that still sounds crazy when I say it out loud. But, we’ll, I’m glad we ran into them. They seem... normal.”

“Don’t tell the other you, but… well, she’s planning on proposing.” Marta giggled, snuggling in closer.

The statement sent a thrill of guilt and shock through him. He hadn’t really thought of proposing. Well, no, he had. But they’d been together, what? Three months? That seemed like moving awfully fast. “I... that’s nice,” he managed, lamely. “Must be nice, still having a normal life.”

“Can I admit to being a little jealous that they are building a future together that I wished we could have had? You know, if the Circle hadn’t infiltrated our lives.” She clung a little closer then, shivering a little.

He held her tighter. “Yeah. Who knew that meeting ourselves would screw everything up so badly?”

“I hope they’re happy together.” She gave him a hard look. “Assuming you don’t steal all of his focus with the equations and the theories and the possibilities. But we can’t let them open a gate. Not too soon, anyways. Not if that’s what attracts the attention of the circle. Not until we have a plan, first.”

“No. We can’t do that to them,” he agreed, stroking her shoulder. “We don’t need to inflict that on them. But...”. He sighed. “We’ll need to warn them, somehow. Because he’s a lot like me, and can you imagine how I’d react? If another me showed up, explaining that math could open gates to another world?”

-*-

“This is incredible!” Pete gushed, closing the cabin door behind them and locking it. “I mean, versions of us from another universe? And they’re willing to show us how it works?”

He hung his coat up, then took Marta’s. “And it’s not just parallel universes, Marta. The gates allow time travel! We could jump back to... hell, anywhere! The implications are...”

Marta’s response was to grab his shirt and kiss him, shutting off his enthusiastic monologue with a warm and insistent tongue. He melted into her, hands exploring her body through her sweater. And then beneath her sweater, gliding over smooth warm skin as she tugged at his belt and worked his jeans down over his hips.

They tumbled onto the couch, hungrily discarding clothes that got in the way. Pete had a moment for a crazy, guilty-feeling though about whether the other Marta would look as good naked. And then she was sliding down him, and rational thought slipped away.

-*-

Pete woke up to sunlight streaming through a window, and the warmth of Marta’s body snuggled against him. The “queen-sized bed” advertised for the cabin was more of a double, but they’d made it work. Before they’d slept, as well as after. Sleep had been mercifully dreamless.

Mercifully. Because the image of Marta with a knife buried in her belly, the hardwood covered with a pool of her blood, still haunted him.

“Morning,” he whispered into her ear as he felt her stir. One hand slid over her bare hip, and he smiled as he mobbed her earlobe. “Did you and your counterpart plan out our day already? Or are you in a mood to just relax a little?”
 
“Relax? I believe I’ve forgotten how to relax,” Marta murmured, pressing her rear against his crotch. “Does it involve staying in bed all morning until we wear ourselves out once again?”

“I know they –well, she, specifically– wanted some alone time today. And I think it would be nice, as well, to just spend some time together. Just us, no alts and no surprises. But we did want to meet up for a bit, too. She wanted to see the Aklo notes I was trying to translate, and I figured a second set of eyes couldn’t hurt. Besides, you found something to investigate with your counterpart, didn’t you?”

Marta turned, and rose up over Peter. “So, why don’t we spend the morning together, and catch up with them after lunch?” She pressed a deep, hungry kiss against his lips. For a moment or two longer, she explored him, lingering over their kiss while her thighs wrapped around his. Then, without warning she pulled away with a smirk.

“For now, however, I think I am craving pancakes…”



Marta supposed she wasn’t surprised to find Peter already up and taking on his phone when she opened her eyes. He might not have slept if she hadn’t spent half the night fucking him. His passion and excitement were intoxicating, but also exhausting at times. But he was still in bed with her, and his bare skin was still warm and inviting. “Did you manage to sleep at all?”

She sat up enough to read the notes he’d taken on his phone, but could hardly make heads or tails of the complex equations on the screen. Instead, her mind wandered to the ring box, that still sat in her jacket pocket. Should she try to propose now? Or had she missed her chance?

Planting a kiss on Peter’s cheek, she forced herself up, and wrapped a robe around herself. “Why don’t I get us started on some breakfast. Any requests?”
 
“Sleep? Uhm, yeah.” He wondered if he sounded as guilty and defensive as he felt in that moment. He really had gotten some sleep. Eventually. Once he and Marta had been too utterly exhausted to move, anyway. But he’d forgotten to shut off his reminder to get up and exercise, and so his wrist had buzzed at him at 5:30 in the morning. And then he’d thought about the files the other Pete had airdropped to his phone, and...

And why did their phones have compatible OSes? Or, for that matter, any similarities at all? Was it a side effect of their universes being ‘close’?

A warm pressure of lips on his cheek brought him back from his thoughts, providing another stab of guilt as he felt Marta getting out of bed. “Why don’t I get us started on some breakfast. Any requests?”

It was an effort of will to put his phone down. “How about an omelette?” Throwing the covers aside, he pulled on a pair of sweats. “I’ll chop the peppers and onions.”

-*-

Pete dug into the pancakes with relish. “Have I told you before,” he asked, swallowing a bite, “that you make the best pancakes? The little dusting of cinnamon you put in the mix is amazing.”

Grinning, he ate another bite. “And I’ve been thinking about what you said. Let’s take the day off from the gate research. Just, I dunno. Go for a walk. See who’s worse at identifying trees, or something. Because we could really use a little break after everything that’s happened.” He ate another bite. “I could, anyway.”

He ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the food and listening to Marta. “But I like the idea of meeting up with them after lunch. Talk about translations and math until dinner and then cut it off for the night. Maybe we could make a dinner party out of it, and we could cook this time since they dug into their food last night?”

-*-

Pete whistled off-key, trying to produce the tune to Doctor Who as he washed the last of the dishes. Plastic clacked as he set the plate in the rack. “Want to hike up Sentinel Hill this morning?” he asked, drying his hands. “Check out that so-called Indian Stonehenge” at the top?”

He chuckled at that. The park’s website used a picture of the standing stones as a banner image, but also explained that - despite what the New Agey people thought - the stones were an 18th-century fraud. “New England’s own Georgia Guidestones,” he chuckled. “But it might be fun to see them. Unless you had other ideas? And should we invite the others? Get to know them a little better?”
 
“Because we could really use a little break after everything that’s happened.” He ate another bite. “I could, anyway.”

“A break sounds amazing,” Marta admitted with an exhausted laugh. “Though, I am just as partial to lighting a fire and cuddling on the couch. Are there any non sci-fi movies we could watch?”

And at least this was about as far away from a night spent at the Arkham Hilton as possible. But that thought brought back the image of Peter with a knife in his hand, leaning over her. The image Peter dead on the floor, betrayal etched on his unmoving features. A shudder passed through Marta as she brought the dishes over to the sink, and tried in vain to wash away the memories yet again.

“But no, A walk would be nice. The foliage really is gorgeous this time of year.”


“But it might be fun to see them. Unless you had other ideas? And should we invite the others? Get to know them a little better?”

“Maybe we can catch up with them later. I brought you out here, to an isolated cabin in the wood, to get you all to myself.” Marta waited a beat before wincing, “Which makes me sound like a serial killer, huh?” Awkward laughter barely covered the awkwardness she felt as she put her jacket back on, and noted the weight in her right pocket. “Why don’t we catch up with them later?

Autumn was in full swing, trees displaying leaves in such vibrant yellows and oranges and red, they seemed painted on. With the sun bathing the trail in faint light, it reached a pleasant 58 degrees. A beautiful fall day. Despite the brisk temperature, her palms got clammy, and she kept them shoved in her jacket pockets. Peter looped his arm with hers, flashing her a smile as they made the trek up Sentinel Hill.

The Guidestones had been arranged in a circular pattern, with larger monoliths at each of the cardinal directions. Within were smaller stones, more easily moved about to create patterns within the circle. Often shaped into a constellation, in conjunction with astrological movements. Or so the stories went. “It was too bad someone had tried to pass it off as ancient native mythology, because it could have been an interesting exhibit on its own merits.” Marta took a deep breath, brushed her hair out of her face and grabbed Peter’s hand.

“The stars have always been important, to nearly every culture that’s ever lived on Earth. They used the stars to explain the world around them, to create the myths and legends that would shape their worldviews. They used the stars as guideposts, to figure where they were going, or what the future would hold.” The words wouldn’t come as her mouth dried up and her mind went blank. Dammit, this speech would have made so much more sense last night! Clearing her throat, Marta pushed forward.

“Pete, You are my stars. You’re the future I want to have. To be together, that is, I mean. I, uh… I love you,” she blurted out. When the word once again failed her, she pulled out the ring box and opened it up. “Marry… marry me?”
 
“Non sci-fi movies?” Pete echoes, comedic horror filling his voice. “Is there such a thing?” As he said it he was pulling out his phone. “Hm, let me see. I didn’t actually pack any when we left, but... a-ha! Netflix exists in this universe!” He tapped at the app. “And my duplicate uses the same password! So...”

He scrolled through the list of recommended shows. “Wow. This is weird. Like, Sherlock looks the same from the trailer. But it’s The Queen’s Speech. And He-Man and the Princes of Power. But... it’s still The Dragon Prince.” Scratching his head, he set the bone back on the table. “So, societal gender roles aren’t completely flipped, I guess?”

A sudden feeling of just how far they were from home swept over him, making him shiver with a combination of dread and homesickness. It must have hit Marta as well, from the way she started scrubbing harder at the dishes. “But no, A walk would be nice. The foliage really is gorgeous this time of year.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We could hike up the hill, get a really good view.” Using, he grabbed a hand towel. “I’ll dry, and we can get going.”

-*-

Pete stood, speechless and aware that he should say something as the syllables of Marta’s question seemed to echo off the Guidestones. “I...” he managed, feeling like his heart was hammering away so hard it would burst. “I... I mean...”

A sudden laugh escaped him and he grinned like a fool, throwing his arms around her. “Yes! Oh, God yes!” Her arms tightened around him for a moment, and then he was eagerly giving her his hand so she could slide the ring on his finger. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed, turning his hand so he could see it from different angles. And then he kissed her, deep and enthusiastic. “You’re beautiful. And I’m a lucky guy.”

He kissed her again, then grinned. “God. Wait until I tell my mother. She’s been asking when you’d be making an honest man out of me for months - tongue in cheek, of course. But she’s been hinting around about grandkids since she found out we were living together. And my dad..?” He laughed. “He’ll huff and gruff about the matriarchy and all that, but he’ll be thrilled. Both of them think you’re great, and I’m babbling. Aren’t I? Babbling, I mean. I’m just so, so...”

He kissed her again, then smiled as he rested his forehead against hers. “Shouldn’t you be shutting me up about now?” he teased.

-*-

It was the second time in two days they’d run into their duplicates on a trail. And, from the look of things, it was the second time they’d interrupted - or nearly interrupted them. He peered around the bulk of a second growth oak, looking up the trail at the happy, embracing duo. “Seems we’re even more alike than we expected,” he whispered. “We even think to go to the same places. We should leave them alone, though.”

Carefully, holding Marta’s hand, the two of them retraced their path until a switchback obscured the peak of Sentinel Hill. Several times, he started to say something and then stopped. His heart was in his throat, and finally he slowed to a stop. “Marta...” he began, then cleared his throat nervously.

“I.. uhm,” he tried again. “I... I’m glad you, that you’re here. With me. Not that I really wanted to be here,”he added quickly, nervously. “Not like this, not running for our lives. But, I... I’m glad that, if I had to run, that...”

He swallowed, then laughed. “I’m making a mess of this. I don’t have anything to give you, not yet, but... would, Would you... marry me?”
 
“Why would I shut you up? I love hearing about how thrilled you are to be my husband.” Marta laughed, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. She’d been so nervous, but the sight of his excitement and enthusiasm washed that all away.

“Are you planning to call your parents up tonight? Or should we save this news for Thanksgiving? I’d say we could get working on that grandchild for your mom, but we probably wouldn’t even know ourselves in time for Thanksgiving.”

“I already told Lena I was planning to propose, so naturally she’s probably wondering how it went. And likely blowing up my phone, because I thought I was going to ask last night. You know, in case my stars speech didn’t make that obvious.”


The other Peter must have said yes, she realized, watching the other couple hug and kiss and ooze exhilaration. And she too shared their enthusiasm, even if she also felt jealous as well. Would they even get to have a normal life again?

Peter, on the other hand, didn’t seem jealous. Nervous, more like. She didn’t say anything, even when he tried to cover his attempts as conversation by coughing or clearing his throat, until finally he spoke up.

“I’m making a mess of this. I don’t have anything to give you, not yet, but... would, Would you... marry me?”

“Peter… Of course, I would marry you.” Marta laughed, despite herself, despite everything, and threw herself into his arms. “But I am glad you asked, because after Nkendi turned me down, I am not sure I could have built up confidence to ask again.”

For just a moment, she’d been so happy, she’d almost forgotten everything they’d gone through. Everything they’d run form. Everything they’d survived. But this wasn’t something she could share with Lena. She wasn’t going to get to meet Peter’s family, and hope they liked her.

But, she wasn’t going to dwell on that. Instead she squeezed Peter’s hands and leaned in close. “Are you sure you would want to get married here, though? As I understand it, you’d have to take my last name. Which, I guess would be Rebelo here.”
 
“Rebellion, hm? It might not be a bad idea. We could have a Star Wars theme wedding!” Pete gave her a goofy grin. “Because my name would be Rebello-Ahn!” He looked at her expectantly. “Rebello-Ahn? Rebellion?”

The laughter died away in a sudden surge of emotion, and he pulled her into his arms. “I just wish...”. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Couldn’t say how much he wished he could tell his parents. Or see Lena’s reaction. Or punch Jeff in the nose for all the grief he’d caused. God. What must they all be going through right now?

“Hey,” he finally said. “Why don’t we head back? Spend some time drooling at rings on Google, and thinking about where we want to get married?” He managed a smile. “I mean, we could have the ceremony anywhere, right?”

-*-

“Well, yeah. Of course you should tell Lena.” Pete nestled into Marta’s arms. “I mean, if you told her and then don’t give her the good news, she’ll just drive out here and beat down the door.” He hesitated. “Worse, she might beat down the wrong door. And then things go crazy. But, as to my parents..?”

Pete thought a moment, then shrugged. “I should probably tell them. I mean, it might be fun to wait until Thanksgiving, but my mom would be twelve shades of pissed off that I sat on the news for three weeks.” He nudged her head with his. “Not at you, mind. She’ll think you walk on water. But I’ll be banished to the kids table, or something.”

He made no effort to move, though. He just stood, content and staring out over the flame-colored trees in the valley below. “But... maybe not right now. Not just yet.”
 
“Well, I can’t have my fiancé at the kid’s table now.” Marta took another kiss, lingering over his taste and her unrestrained joy. “Why don’t we Facetime them, together? I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when we deliver the news.”

“We might have to make some plans, though, since you know they are going ask. Like, do we have a date in mind yet, or where are we planning on holding the wedding. Do we want something traditional, or maybe a fun theme?”



“A Star Wars wedding?” Marta laughed, and leaned into Peter as they walked back down the path. “What the hell, that actually sounds fun. We could have a lightsaber battle instead of a first dance.”

They spent the rest of the walk back to the cabin exchanging ideas, and somehow, Marta found herself in the mood to watch the movies. Which lead to a hunt of how to stream it, which led to the realization that this reality’s Peter already owned digital versions of all the movies. But even as she tried to settle into some mindless entertainment, Marta was struck by the differences in these versions.

“Man Star Wars is weird in this reality.” The original trilogy resembled the one from their home reality, except with the major inclusion of a prominent redhead that Marta eventually identified as Geena Davis. This version of the trilogy followed Mara Jade instead of Luke, progressing in a similar manner to the plot she remembered, despite all the changes.

“And prequel trilogy is nothing like the movies from our reality. Though, some of the references and background events happen to line up with it. It’s a lot darker too, more mature. Like a sci-fi spy thriller.”

By now Peter joined her on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, and she cuddled up beside him. “Should we start with those? Since they are the biggest departure, it will feel more like a fresh movie, than a rehash of something we’ve already seen. Or should we skip them all, and preserve our precious childhoods for another day?”
 
Slowly, arm in arm, they picked their way back down the trail. “We could do a colonial theme wedding,” he suggested. “Everyone dresses as Puritans, and we rent someplace like the Asbury House to give it the right look. Sort of a way to celebrate Goode Brown bringing us together.”

A thought struck him, making him laugh. “Maybe we should invite our duplicates? I mean I don’t know how long they’re staying, but they could always come back. Speaking of which, what time were we going to have them over?”

-*-

In the end, they settled on watching the first of the prequel movies, which bore the same title as the one he was familiar with. But the story? “That... was different,” Pete said as the credits rolled. “I mean, it was like the cliff notes version of Phantom Menace, with a spy thriller B-plot that never connected to the Naboo story. And Jesus, I can’t believe they killed Kaydia off at the end.”

His hand hesitated over the remote, and he checked his watch. “Much as I really want to see what The Shadow War is about, though, we probably need to start getting ready. Especially if we’re taking dinner this time. It should be something fancy, because we’re celebrating two engagements!”

-*-

“She did!” Peggy gushed, moving her phone with a rapidity that made the screen blur. “Did you hear that, Dan? Our baby boy’s getting married!”

Pete groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Mom...”

His dad was clearly having a similar reaction. “Stop embarrassing him,” he heard. “PJ’s not a baby boy any more.”

“He’s still my little boy,” his mom insisted with a laugh, before turning back to the camera. “I’m so happy for you both! When is the wedding?”

“We haven’t decided, mom,” Pete laughed in reply. “It’s only been a couple of hours.”

-*-

“As long as they have similar tastes, this should go just fine,” Pete said, grabbing both baskets from the back seat of the new (stolen) SUV. “I mean, I know I like this stuff.”

‘This stuff’ was homemade chicken cordon bleu, and herbed potatoes, and a tossed salad. And they’d made a run back into Arkham to buy a bottle of champagne and a bottle of red wine to go with it. Fortunately, nobody looked twice at their extremely out of state credit card.

“Should I be this nervous?” he asked as they knocked. “I mean, we know them pretty well.”
 
“Well, I mean we do want them to like us,” Marta murmured before the door opened. Thought want was more like need because this couple was their best hope for an alliance right now. But she pushed that thought out of her head as the door opened, and she caught sight of the engagement ring on the other Peter’s hand. Tonight was for celebrating, not for worrying.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” the other Marta said, moving aside to let them in. With a roaring blaze in the fireplace, the room was toasty and inviting. “And whatever you brought smells amazing.”

“Chicken cordon bleu, with sides and merlot. Another experiment, I must admit, to see if our favorites corresponded across realities.” Marta unpacked the dishes and arranged them upon the table. The other Marta grabbed plates and glasses, while the peters arranged addition seating. After all, most of these cabins were furnished with couples in mind.

“Well, this experiment can be recorded as successful, because that sounds divine. We can start with wine, but we will have to finish the night with champagne, because well…” She grabbed her Peter’s hand and leaned in close. “He said yes! Peter and I are getting married.”

Marta hugged her counterpart, and then the other Peter as well. “I’m so happy for you two! We have also decided to get engaged.”

The other Marta laughed, “Well, then we might need to bring out the second bottle of champagne! Congrats to you both.” Once they had each gotten a chance to congratulate the other, she motioned towards the table. “Well then, shall we eat?”
 
“So you said yes too?” laughed the other Pete, clapping him on the shoulder. “No surprise there, you seem like a smart guy.”

“Actually,” Pete replied. “I asked her. But I probably only beat...”

“You asked her?” Alt-Pete sounded impressed. “Damn, that’s bold. But hell, we’re both tough enough to make it in a woman’s field, right?”

“Uhm... right?” Pete blinked, trying to make sense of that. Fortunately, Alt-Marta came to the rescue by calling them all to the table. Alt-Pete served up the food, while Oete struggled with the champagne bottle. “Never.... quite managed... to get the hang...” he mumbled as the cork stubbornly resisted him. Then there was a pop, and it shot across the room to ounce off a wall.

“A toast,” he suggested, pouring sparkling wine into the four cheap champagne flutes they’d bought. “To all of us. The luckiest, happiest couples on two worlds.”

“To us!” everyone agreed, taking a healthy drink and then tucking in to the meal.

“So,” Pete asked after a couple of minutes. “Have you two set a date yet?”

Alt-Pete glanced at his Marta, then shook his head. “Not yet, although we’re thinking about the spring. Maybe during Oestre Break.”

“Spring Break,” Alt-Marta corrected with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alt-Pete agreed, then grinned sheepishly at Pete and Marta. “Sorry. You know how it is, right? Or is your mom not as staunchly Nordic Orthodox?”
 
“Nordic Orthodox?” Marta repeated each word carefully, trying to piece together what they meant in context. Religion, it seemed, had evolved much differently in this reality.

“I know, but I don’t mind indulging his mom on that. It might have been an issue if my parents were still around but, uh… “ Alt-Marta shrugged, and kiss her Pete on the cheek. Spanning her gaze back upon them, she smiled. “I imagine you were raised Roman Mithraic, as well?”

Marta shook her head. “Mithraic? No, that’s… that’s not really a religion in our reality.”

“Oh.”

Conversation died down for a time, the gulf of differences widening between them. It was almost hard to believe how similar they had ended up, given how far things had drifted apart. Maybe that was better? Maybe a world not so similar to their original would be less jarring. But, could she even get work here? Her history degree was worthless in a reality with different historical facts.

At least physics was the same. Pete would be fine, except for the institutional sexism.

“So, what are the other versions of us like?” Alt Marta finally asked, before bringing a chuck of chicken to her mouth.

The question caught Marta off guard, bringing back horrific memories of the dead alts who had seduced them. “What other versions?”

“You been to another alternate universe before ours, haven’t you?”
 
“Uhm...” Pete temporized by taking a bite of chicken and chewing, trying to look calm as his thoughts raced. What the hell coukd they say? We killed them in self defense would be, at best, awkward.

“We, uhm, didn’t change the parameters very much, the first time,” he said slowly. Which was sort of true. The universe their murderous alts cane from had been shifted by a thousandth. “As a result, the world we were in was difficult to distinguish from our own.”

“Really?” The other Pete leaned in, curious. “What kind of differences?”

“We didn’t do an exhaustive survey,” Pete replied. “We only stayed a couple of days. It was like, uhm,” he gestured, thinking. “Like... the same president. The same pop culture, the same basic history. Just a few different details, like a different actor in a movie role.”

“But what about that world’s version of you?” The other Pete asked.

Pete swallowed. “Very similar,” he said. “Difficult to tell apart from us.” He tried not to think of the alt-Marta enthusiastically fucking him in the couch, letting him think she was his Marta. “But, for instance, that world’s Marta was... pregnant.”

“A bit different,” the other Pete nodded. “Speaking of which, what’s your world like? I mean..” Now he gestured aimlessly as he thought. “Heck. You’re not familiar with Mithraism, so what did Constantine unify stone under?”

“Christianity,” Pete replied.

“What now?” The other Pete asked.
 
Marta held her breath as Peter answered, noting the careful way he framed his answers without outright lying. They’d tell them the truth, eventually, but it was too soon, now. Marta took a sip of champagne, and it almost drowned out the voice of worry in her mind.

It couldn’t wash away the memory of that Peter seducing her, nor the horror of him hovering over her with a knife in hand, however. Not unless she drank a lot more, a thought that inspired her to refill her glass. Conversation continued around her, getting back to the topic of religion.

“Heck. You’re not familiar with Mithraism, so what did Constantine unify stone under?”

“Christianity,” Pete replied.

“What now?” The other Pete asked.

It was her alt who spoke up first. “I think it was a cult from the Middle Roman era. An off-shoot of Judaism, if I am remembering correctly.”

“More or less,” Marta acknowledged, cutting into her chicken, “It went on to absorb many pagan rituals and belief systems as it became the dominant religion in Europe.”

“Yeah, that seems about the same,” Alt Marta agreed. “Different, but not so different in the end. Did you bring any history books from your world? I’d love to read more.”

“I will have to see what I have on my laptop. If nothing else, I should be able to email you a couple of my manuscripts.”

“Sounds good.” She cleared her plate, and finished off her champagne before standing and collecting everyone’s finished plates. “If you two aren’t in a hurry to get back, we could all take a dip in the hot tub and finish off this other bottle of champagne,” Alt-Marta offered. “I mean, how often are we going to get engaged?”

“Hopefully just the once,” Marta agreed with a laugh. She shot a glance over toward Peter, giving him a chance to object, and when he didn’t, and laughed again. “The hot tub does sound tempting, but, well, we didn’t bring bathing suits with us, or anything.”

“Yeah, well, I am almost tipsy enough not to care,” Alt-Marta teased, topping off their glasses with the last of the champagne, while Alt Peter opened the second bottle. “What about you two?”

Marta giggled, and threw back her flute, “Fuck it. I’m down.”
 
Pete drained his flute, glad of the distraction. Glad of anything that turned the conversation away from the murderous, other alternates. “I dunno,” he said, holding holding his other glass out so the other Pete could fill it. “I’m not sure I’m drunk enough.”

“Easy to fix,” the other Pete grinned, filling the glass. “How drunk do you think you need to be?”

“Drunk enough to not think about how cold Massachusetts winter evenings are.”

“It’s only fall,” the other Pete replied, filling his own glass. “And besides: they’re called hot tubs for a reason.”

Pete sipped his wine, and watched the two Martas talk. “Sure. Why the hell not?” he decided, standing up and reaching for the bottle. The other Pete let him take it, opting to dig another bottle of wine out of a cabinet. “Don’t we have enough?”

“It’s cold out, remember?” the other Pete laughed.

Shrugging lightly in acceptance of the logic, Pete followed the two Martas out into the deck. It had a commanding view of the flame-colored foliage on the slopes of Sentinel Hill and the bare stone-crowned peak, all of which was washed and greeted by the setting sun. Draining his glass, he stripped down and slid into the tub between the two Martas, hissing a little as hot water slid over skin chilled by the cool air. Then he crossed his legs, awkwardly trying to hide the growing erection caused by the sight of the two naked women. Not that he thought Marta would be offended, but because it felt uncomfortable to be erect in mixed company.

There was a small splash as the other Petr joined them, slumping in a similarly awkward way. Pete looked st him, then did a double-take. “Holy shit. You got that?”

That was a barbed wire tribal traffic around his left bicep. The other Pete shrugged. “You didn’t?”

“Nah,” Pete replied, remembering. “I thought about it, but Chan didn’t like it.”

“Chan?” The other Pete looked confused.

“My girlfriend, when I was working on my Masters.” And a 16th century witch, he didn’t add.

“Hm. Another difference.” The other Pete smiled. “I was dating Molly, and she encouraged the tattoo.”
 
“Give my thanks to Molly,” Alt Marta cooed, squeezing his arm. “I think it’s sexy as hell.”

Marta cocked her head and bit her lip, before she could admit she liked it too. A sip of wine covered for her as she decided how to respond, diplomatically. “If you ever reconsider getting a tattoo, you have my full support.” Swooping in with a kiss to soften the blow, she leaned into Pete, “It could be fun to get matching tattoos, to celebrate our engagement?”

“What would you get?” Alt Marta asked. She crawled over her Peter to get to the wine bottle, and squealed as he nipped at her shoulder.

“I’m not sure,” she started, trailing her fingers down Peter’s shoulder and arm, and then walking them up his back. “Maybe we could pick out a quote, or something like it?” Her fingers trailed down his chest again, beneath the water and down his abs. The other Marta watched the journey her hands took, and licked her lips, encouraging Marta. Fingertips brushed against his hardening cock, and she hummed in approval.

“And where would you get it?” Alt Marta asked, voice husky and eyes dark. Her hands, too, were under the water, and Marta wasn’t sure if she were stroking her Peter’s thigh, or jerking him off. And the way he sighed and closed his eyes didn’t answer that question.

Marta shrugged, sending ripples through the tub at the movement of her breasts, “Arm or wrist is an obvious choice, or maybe ankle? I guess it would depend on where we want to have our tattoos on the same place on our bodies.” Her hand slid back up Peter’s body now, and teased his erect nipple, “But I bet you would look good with something right here…”

“Maybe you should get it on your lower back, to Pete can admire it every time he bends you over to take you from behind.”
 
Pete sighed, a sound that came out very much like a purr as Marta’s wet hand slid over his chest. “Just one problem with that,” he replied, catching her hand and turning it so he could nip at her wrist. “She’d have to get a tattoo on her stomach, too.”

“Oh?” the other Pete asked, voice strained and husky. Whatever the other Marta was doing with her hand, it was clearly distracting him. “Why?”

“Well,” Pete replied, running the fingers of his free hand over Marta’s thigh. “I like taking Marta in all kinds of ways.” His teeth worked lower down her arm, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. “So I know I’d want something to admire while I’ve got her flat on her back.”

As he said it he opened her lips with two fingers, exploring her slit with a third. The feel of her, slick and ready, brought a groan to his lips. A groan that he let her taste as he found her mouth with his, his tongue insistently filling her mouth as his finger stroked deeper into her channel.

-*-

“That... that’s a good point...” Pete groaned, rocking his hips into Marta’s fist as her palm stroked over his sensitive, aching head. He tried not to stare at the otherworldly version of themselves as the other him half straddled the other Marta, hungrily kissing her. The movement of his arm beneath the water, and the response of his Marta, left no doubt about what he was doing. But his Marta reclaimed his attention by softly squeezing his shaft as she slid her hand back down.

“Oh fuck, Marta,” he breathed, grabbing her shoulders and dragging her into a hungry kiss of his own. She refused to relinquish her grip on his dick, but added the feel of her slick skin and soft breasts on his body to the teasing movements. “God, you feel good on me.”

He let his lips drift along her jaw and down her throat, gently nipping at her skin. One hand combed through her dark hair, tugging to arch her throat and allow him to taste more of her. The other explored her back and buttocks, nails tracing lazy designs. “Maybe one of Goode Brown’s circles?” he suggested, arching his back to fuck into her grip.
 
Marta lost track of the conversation, losing herself to Peter’s touch and the pleasure it brought. Her legs spread for him, inviting his fingers to stroke harder, deeper inside her, and begging him in whimpering moans.

“Make her cum,” her alt demanded, bare breasts peaking above the surface of the water as she arched her back further. The other Peter caught one of her nipples between his lips, and she stared hungrily as he sucked. Stared hungrily as he released it, pink and throbbing from his attention, and sucked on the other as well. Fuck, that was hot.

“Peter… oh fuck, Pete…” His hard cock ground into her thigh as he pinned hard against the side of the hot tub, making her take his fingers inside her. Still thrusting as her slit quivered and her eyes rolled back into her head.

“Damn,” the other Marta gasped, “I do look hot when I cum.” She kissed her Peter, and his cry of release could be heard even over the joining of their lips. One cum covered hand emerged from the water, and Marta licked a pearly string from her finger.

“Maybe I’m, not done yet,” she insisted, fighting against the protest of shaky legs. She stood, water beading on her bare skin, and leaned against her back into Peter’s chest. Still trembling muscles parted against the iron bar of his cock, before taking him with just the hint of resistance. Now, sitting backwards on his lap, the water didn’t cover her breasts, but splashed them as she slid down his shaft. “Maybe I want to see your O face next.”
 
Pete’s hands slipped and slid over Marta’s slick hips, helping her as she slid herself down his aching shaft. He’d been wrong, it seemed. The heat of the water was nothing to the heat of her slick inner walls as she gripped him. “Maybe I want to see your O face next,” she husked, and he couldn’t help but see the hungry way she stared at their duplicates.

“So do I,” he added, watching the other Marta suck the other Pete’s cum from her fingers. Then he leaned back, lifting his hips to drive Marta deeper into his shaft. “I want to watch you cum while my fiancée fucks herself on my dick.”

As he spoke he fumbled with the bottle the other Pete had brought out, concentrating on pouring a glass of wine as Marta’s ass flexed against his belly. One hand cupped her firm breast, drawing her back against his chest. “Fuck yourself on me,” he breathed, sipping his wine and rolling a taut nipple between his fingers. “Fuck the cum out of me, while they watch.”

-*-

Pete gasped with the after-effects of his orgasm, torn between the delicious sight of Marta cleaning his cum from her fingers and the erotic display of the other Marta straddling the other Pete’s meat. “Maybe I want to see your O face next,” she gushed, eyes narrowing and lips parting as she took her fiancée in front of them.

“I think he should,” he agreed, dragging Marta into a hungry kiss. His cum was salty on her lips and tongue, mingled with the fruity aftertaste of her wine. He turned Marta, pulling her onto his lap as he kissed her. “Because fuck, you taste good.”

His semihard shaft pulled against her stomach as he gripped her hips, and her hands slipped on his shoulders as he leaned her back, capturing a taut nipple with his teeth. He bit, just hard enough to draw a gasp from her. “Fucking good,” he breathed, swirling his tongue over the nipple.

Behind her the other Pete held the wine glass to his Marta’s mouth, then thrust upwards as she tried to drink. Her gasp let wine trickled from her lips, running in rivulets down her skin. He watched, hungrily, as the other Pete sucked crimson liquid from her skin. “I want to taste more of you,” he husked.

His shifting position left his Marta leaning back against her otherworldly duplicate as he shifted her legs, hooking her knees over his shoulders. She gasped in shock, then gasped again as his hands gripped her ass, squeezing and supporting the slick, smooth flesh. “More of you,” he repeated, sliding his tongue over her shaven lips.
 
It was a strange sensation, to float on her back while Peter ran his tongue over her sensitive, dripping lips. The chill air clashed with heat of his tongue, drawing a full body shudder from her. She dug her heels into his back, writhing against his mouth, into his attention and away as her pleasure built.

This was insane. All of it was insane, fucking like mad in front of another couple, watching them fuck each other in turn. Oh, and they were alternate versions of themselves, who had bent the rules of physics to travel between realities.

However, those thoughts – and all other thoughts, really– slipped her mind as Peter slid his tongue deep inside her. All that mattered was the heat of the tub, and the heat of his mouth, and the heat of the other couple fucking for their pleasure. She struggled to keep herself afloat as bliss drew her body rigid.



Marta made a performance of fucking Peter, and her alt made a performance of her ecstasy, gasping and moaning and begging her Peter for more. Enticed by the show, and perhaps a bit competitive as well, Marta moved harder on Peter, faster, taking him even deeper. Small waves splashed against her heaving breasts and stomach.

Her greedy cunt swallowed his shaft, again and again, clenching tight as she rose up once more. It was too bad the water obscured their view, because Marta bet it was pretty fucking hot to see her pink lips wrapped around his thick cock, or to watch it disappear into her hungry depths. It felt so fucking good , that delicious pressure and friction inspiring her.

“Take it,” she snarled, rapture heavy in her mind, “Take this fucking pussy. Give me all that thick cock. Give me all your cum.”

The other Marta came, body twisting and splashing water all over. Marta laughed, triumphant and slammed her ass back into Peter’s abs. “Fuck, oh fuck that’s hot. Almost… almost as hot as…” Words failed her, her mind solely dedicated to pursuing her pleasure on Peter’s cock.
 
His empty flute was floating, bobbing in the waves generated by Marta’s eager rhythm as she fucked herself on him. By the waves generated by the other Marta’s eager writhing as the other Pete ate her out. He’d abandoned the glass, too eager to fill his hands with his lover - her hips, her thighs, her breasts. Anything that let him feel more of her. “God I love fucking you,” he groaned, one hand sliding up Her throat.

Take it,” she snarled, eyes locked on the other Marta, on her eager cries as the other Pete’s tongue filled her.

“Take what?” he growled, squeezing her throat gently and biting her shoulder. His hips rolled, meeting her thrusts with his own.

“Take this fucking pussy,” she snarled, one hand gripping his hair for leverage.

“This pussy?” he repeated, thrusting up hard enough to send water splashing over their alternates.

“Give me all that thick cock. Give me all your cum.”

The other Marta came with a cry, sending more water sloshing across them and over the sides of the tub. “Fuck, oh fuck that’s hot,” Marta gasped out.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Pete agreed. His hand were sliding over her breasts now, gripping them hard as he drove into his lover.

“Almost… almost as hot as…” her words collapsed into gasps as she fucked him harder. His cries echoed hers, rising in speed and desperation until his aching cock couldn’t take it anymore. He threw his head back with a hoarse shout as he climaxed, emptying spurts of hot cum deep into her.

-*-

He must be drunker than he thought. Because he was certain he didn’t have an exhibitionist streak. But here he was, dating Marta’s orgasm while watching another couple - duplicates from another world - wildly fuck.

Water dropped from his face and hair as Marta gasped for breath. With a grin he flowed up her body, skin lubricated by warm water, pressing her into the side of the tub as he kissed her. “You taste amazing,” he husked, gripping a fistful of soaked hair as he rubbed his iron-hard shaft against her belly. “I’ll bet you feel better.”

Her legs parted, opening herself for him. Kissing her again, he gripped his cock with his free hand and slid the head against her open slit. “Take it,” he breathed, echoing the other Marta’s words. “Take this fucking dick.”

The other couple cried out in ecstasy, sending water splashing over them. As they did he drove into her with a long, smooth stroke that drew a cry from Marta. “You like that thick cock, don’t you?” he demanded, tugging her hair and slamming into her. “Tell me you want my cum in you.” He slammed into her again. “Beg me to cum in you.”
 
Still trembling walls parted before Peter’s iron length, reigniting Marta’s ecstasy with every stroke. It was too much, too good to think or even that there was another couple with them. She tightened around Peter, trying to hold him still within her until nirvana passed through her, but her slippery slit proved to be little resistance against his momentum. He made her take it, take him, take the maddening pleasure that coursed through sensitive nerves.

“Peter!” she sobbed, whimpered digging her nails into his slick flesh as bliss overcame her. The splashing water denied her a grip on his skin, but she could still feel the flexing muscles in his back bulge with the effort of fucking her.

“Tell me you want my cum in you.” He slammed into her again. “Beg me to cum in you.”

“Please… please!” Her back arched, to take more of him, to feel his body against her own. “Please, cum in me. Deep inside me… Oh fuck, please…”
 
Pete groped blindly for the wine bottle, not taking his eyes off the couple fucking in front of them. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he whispered into Marta’s ear. She was still astride him, slumped back against his chest, his softened cock still in her. “Are you enjoying this? Enjoying watching us fuck?”

His champagne flute was still bobbing around the tub, so he took a swig directly from the bottle. “You like me fucking you that hard?” he murmured, exploring her taut stomach with his fingers. “Like begging me to fuck my cum into you?” He touched the bottle to her lips. “Or would you rather have her spread open, tasting him in her?”

-*-

The sound of splashing water nearly drowned out the sound of skin on skin, but it didn’t drown out Marta’s desperate cries. “Please… please!” Her back arched, letting him thrust deeper into her. “Please, cum in me. Deep inside me… Oh fuck, please…”

“That’s right,” he gasped, nails digging into her hips as his hands slipped over wet flesh. “I’m going to fill you with cum.” He pushed forward, sliding her back up the seat until her body pressed against his. “You’re gonna feel me in you,” he groaned, hips driving harder. “Feel me... hot in you...”. His mouth found hers, and her groaned as her nails bit into his shoulders. “Feel my cum, filling... filling...”

“Or would you rather have her spread open,” he heard his own voice whisper, “tasting him in her?”

The question shattered his control. His teeth but into her lip briefly, then his head rolled back as he gasped out an incoherent sound of pleasure. Water splashed as his hips slammed into hers, his cock pulsing and his balls tightening as his seed sprayed her inner walls.
 
Marta melted into Peter’s touch, into his filthy words and the soothing warmth of his presence. This moment, in the heavy, sated moments after mutual orgasms, was the best. And the show put on by the other couple was an added bonus, tempting her with another round wrapped around Peter.

“Or would you rather have her spread open, tasting him in her?”

This comment drew a shuddered gasp from her, as well as the explosive orgasm from their counterparts. Fuck, that did sound hot. And it had been hot, when she’d indulged in previous encounters.

But that thought turned to other alts, who had drawn them into an orgy before springing child sacrifice upon them. Alts who had seduced them both under false pretenses, who had chased them from their original reality with threats of murder. Those memories sobered her up some, her fear and disgust at odds with her arousal.

“We should get going…” she murmured, suddenly unaccountably shy. Standing became an instant regret, as the air chilled her nude figure.

The alts were still kissing, gasping and heaving from the force of their climax together. “Wait…” her alt breathed, still tangled up with her Pete, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. We’ve intruded enough on you guys, and your celebration. I um…” Thanks? Sorry? It was difficult to find the right word as she picked out her discard clothes from the floor.

“Are you even sober enough to drive back?”

That was a legit concern. It was maybe 500 feet to reach their cabin, but the road was dark, and twisty, and cold enough that ice was a possibility. “Uh, maybe?”

“Do you really want to take that risk on a maybe? If you two got in an accident, that would be hugely problematic for us.” Alt Marta stood, and donned a thick, fluffy robe, “Let me make some coffee, at least, so you two sober up a touch.”
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom