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Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

Marta gasped at that, briefly wondered if he knew what she were thinking, right in this moment. That, as fun as it was for Peter to streak her skin with his cum, she wished he could pump it inside her. That, more and more lately, she’d been tempted to throw caution to the wind and beg him to cum inside her. “I…I want that,” she groaned, admitted, licking Peter’s cum from his fingers, “Fuck, I want that. I want you, inside me.”

The wood was cool, but Peter was hot, sweat slick skin slithering over hers as he stroked deep into her, over and over and over again. Marta craved his heat against her, craved his cock, craved the pressure and the friction and slapping of flesh against flesh. Hunger drove her to fuck back against Peter, to take all he had to give and more. “Are you going to cum in my ass? Are you going to fill me with your lust? Please… Oh Pete, please… I want it so bad.”
***​
“I remember wanting to taste myself, on you,” Tuesday Marta purred, before gasping arching herself towards and away from Peter’s skilled and teasing tongue. “I remember craving the taste of our mingled pleasure, still clinging to your cock.”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but she positioned herself half off the couch, head hanging off the edge and near Peter’s cock. He could still tease her like this, leaning over her body to lick her clit, fingers still pumping in and out of her. The musky fragrance of sex filled her senses, and she pulled Peter closer, until she could wrap her lips around his semi-hard cock.

Her taste dripped from him, along with the last drops of his climax, and with a hungry tongue, she savored every inch of him. Every bulge and vein, from the tip of his head, where more precum leaked out, to the base of his shaft. Only her own moans and gasps stopped her, Peter refusing to relent even as she sucked him dry. Three thick fingers stroked into her, thicker than the vibrator she’d been using, and almost as thick as his cock.

“So, if you had to guess,” she cooed, slippery tongue sliding along his length, “what do you think happened next?
 
God, Marta’s mouth was magic. Between her lips and tongue in his shaft and her taste and the sounds Marta made as his future self drove into her, he was already hard again. He only wished he could position himself to see Marta getting fucked without looking away. “I remember wanting to taste myself, on you,” Tuesday Marta purred. “I remember craving the taste of our mingled pleasure, still clinging to your cock.”

Pete caressed her clit with his tongue, straining to offer more of his meat to her lips as he did. “Does it taste as good as you hoped?” he asked, lapping her juices from his fingers as they stretched her cunt and thrust back in.

“Are you going to cum in my ass?” Marta moaned, attracting his attention for a moment. Her body slid over the wood of the table with each thrust, knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. Her eyes were half closed and her mouth hung open, and an expression of ecstasy lit her features. Behind her Tuesday Pete leaned over her, pinning her hands in place as he flexed and drive into her. “Are you going to fill me with your lust? Please… Oh Pete, please… I want it so bad.”

Tuesday Pete responded by catching a handful of her hair and pulling gently, forcing her to look up. “You want that?” he teased. “Look at me there, watching me fuck you. Want me to fill your ass while I watch you take my thick dick?”

Tuesday Marta got his attention back by running her tongue up his length. “So, if you had to guess,” she cooed, “what do you think happened next?”

“Hmmm...”. Pete made a show of thinking hard, although it was spoiled by the groans that Tuesday Marta wrung from him with her mouth. “Well, I vaguely recall you promising yourself she’d like how this ends...”. With that he rose, a little reluctantly since that meant he had to pull his cock from her lips, and drew her to her feet. “So that gives me an idea...”he remarked, picking up the vibrator.

He led her back into the kitchen, positioning her so she stood before Marta. Then he pushed her a little, leaning her forward over her past self. His cock traced a damp trail on the curve of her ass, and he pressed the slick vibrator into her hand. At the sight, Tuesday Pete grinned and drove into Marta, then pulled out.

“Do you think she’ll like this?” Pete asked, gripping his cock and sliding it against Tuesday Marta’s slit. Then he slowly pushed into her, gripping and lifting so Marta could get a good look at his meat stretching and filling her. At the same time Tuesday Pete slowly fucked his cock deep into Marta’s wet slit. “I think she will,” he groaned.
 
They seemed to move at the same time, Pete inside future her, and future Pete within her. She could feel his cock fill her, while she watched it fill the other Marta’s cunt. Damn, that was hot. If she stretched and strained, she could just reach them, just enough to slid her tongue over his shaft and her clit. Just enough to taste him inside her.

Future her shuddered, slick lips gripping his thick cock like a fist. Still, Pete pushed forth, pushing in deeper, and his length disappeared inside her. Behind her, future Pete filled her, his cock twitching against her sensitive walls and driving her mad. Her hips met his, hungry for him and unable to care about anything else but pleasure.

She managed to push her tongue into future Marta’s slit, alongside Peter’s and that was what sent her over the edge. Trembling muscles clenched over both of them, liquid lust smearing her lips and chin. Was it narcissism that tasted her orgasm triggered her own? Did it matter? Neither Peter slowed their momentum, reigniting that pleasure over and over and over again, until her future self collapsed into her sweat slick skin.
 
Pete groaned, letting his head roll back at the delicious mix of sensations a Marta’s tongue joined his cock in Tuesday Marta’s cunt. It didn’t last long, sadly, as he heard the throaty sigh of Marta’s orgasm. Tuesday Marta followed a moment later, inner walls gripping hissgaft like a silken fist as she collapsed onto Marta, her hips rocking back into him to drag out the exquisite pleasure.

Across the table his own future self drive into Marta again, bouncing her against him. Then he pulled out, his slick cock sliding over Marta’s ass as he climaxed with a hoarse cry. Ropes of cum splattered across Marta’s rear and Tuesday Marta’s chest and face. Pete bit his lip at the sight, his cock thickening at the sounds of his future pleasure. God, he just wanted to fuck his lust into Marta, ear her gasped as his seed coated her insides.

Instead he pulled out and dragged Tuesday Marta up. She leaned into her Pete, letting him taste himself in her kiss as he fucked himself between her thighs for two more strokes. Then he cried out as he climaxed. He couldn’t see his Marta’s face at this angle, but his imagination filled in her expression as his cum spurted onto her.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands shaking as he clung to the sweat-slick skin of his future lover.

“Yeah,” his future self nodded. He kissed future Marta once more, then glanced at the microwave. “We, uhm, we should probably get going, though.”

Future Marta nodded, then turned and took a kiss from his lips before crouching to kiss her own past self. “Have fun cleaning up,” she grinned. Then, with a wave, their future selves walked hand in hand towards the bedroom. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as they turned towards the office, and disappeared from view.

“That,” he observed, helping Marta off the table, “was... weird. Hot, but weird.” He looked at his lover, smeared and dripping with the cum of two different versions of himself, eyes glazed with the satisfaction of multiple orgasms, and felt his cock twitch. “We should get a shower,” he said, taking her hand. “And then, probably wash the table.”
 
The weight of that afternoon didn’t full hit Marta until they were out of the shower, and lust no longer clouded her mind. While she scrubbed the clean with a damp sponge, her mind tried to make sense of the orgy, tried to make sense of the fact that she’d traveled through time. Or, at least, she would, in but a few days’ time.

After dinner, Marta got back to work for the week, grading the midterms and answering emails. Shit, 150? In one day? She tended to keep her inbox up-to-date, and got maybe fifty on a busy day. Were that many students really trying get their exam grade back?

The most recent had been sent twenty minutes ago, from fellow historian she’d collaborated with a few months back, over at Brown. Have you seen this yet?

Though you might want to know, because this pornstar looks a lot like you. Might want to get ahead of it, because student can be brutal about this stuff. (To say nothing about faculty.)

Embedded with the message was a blurry still that seemed familiar. After a moment she recognized the setting, her couch looking odd from that angle, and then blanched as she identified the tangle of limbs and bodies on that couch. It was her, and Peter, from the video they’d accidentally made.

“Pete, you didn’t show that video to anyone, right? Or send it to anyone? Right?”
 
There was a whole lot to process. Like, the fact that he and Marta had travelled (or... we’re going to travel?) through time. Which meant that his half-crazy notion was actually true! Which meant that... shit. They were about to open a whole huge can of worms. Because surely they weren’t te inly people to have figured this out? It was a sobering, and somewhat frightening, thought. As were the security implications.

The cross-time orgy was something else to think about. Did it have to happen? Could he tweak the settings, and avoid meeting his past self when he and Marta tried it? Did he want to avoid it? Did she? And what would happen if they did? Anything at all?

Shaking his head, Pete checked the crock pot and sampled the beef stew within. Then he added a little pepper. Some things, at least, were easy to deal with.

“Pete,” Marta called from the office, “you didn’t show that video to anyone, right? Or send it to anyone? Right?”

“What video?” He asked by reflex, heading back to see what she was talking about. “Wait? The video? No, why?” Peering over her shoulder, he felt his he drop. “Shit! How... what the fuck?” He stared at her, wide eyed. “No! I didn’t! I wouldn’t have!” He shook his head. “The only people who’ve seen any of it were Lena and Jeff, and I turned it off before that part!”

-*-

Ten minutes later, he wasn’t sure what was the worst part of it all - the emails from colleagues, alerting him to the video, or the emails from a few students asking him about the video, or the fact that it was trending in PornHub. At least PirnHub thought it was leaked footage from a reality porn parody of some sort, but still. “Fuck,” he breathed, staring at Marta with haunted eyes. “It has to be your sister, or her boyfriend. But why? No, better yet, how?”
 
“Lena wouldn’t do this,” Marta snapped, and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t Peter’s fault, except for possibly not deleting it already, though she understood why he kept it. Sighing deep, she tried again, “It could be Jeff. But it still begs the question of how. Did he get your phone at dinner?” She tried to remember, pushing aside his obnoxiousness. “Maybe when you went to the bathroom?”

Burying her face in her hands, she released a heavy breath. Did it even matter how or why Jeff put the video out there? She’d put in the request to have the video taken down, but now that it was on the internet, it would be there forever. And worse, if they did publish their work in regards to the portals, it would make this porn even more famous. As it stood now, it was a momentary curiosity, but would be buried under the avalanche of new videos. That was, except among people who knew her. “My reputation is ruined.”

Maybe it wasn’t that bad; The video wasn’t so explicit. It’s not as if she were splayed on a centerfold. At most a breast and half her ass were visible. Peter might have gotten the worst of it. But despite what logic told her, the humiliation pierced deep, and she were already wondering if she shouldn’t cancel her classes for Monday.

“What are we going to do?”
 
“Lena wouldn’t do this,” Marta snapped.

“I’m not accusing her!” Pete snapped back, nerves frayed by the discovery. The look on her face made him regret it immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark.”

“It could be Jeff,” she suggested. “But it still begs the question of how. Did he get your phone at dinner?”

“I... don’t know.” He scratched his head, racking his brain. “I can’t see how...”

“Maybe when you went to the bathroom?” She suggested.

“Could be,” Pete agreed carefully. “I mean, usually I remember to lock it, when I put it down. But I don’t remember.”

Marta buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily. “My reputation is ruined,” she groaned. “What are we going to do?”

After a moment, Pete rolled his chair around beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I... don’t know,” he said. “We’ll get through it, but... hell. I don’t know.”

-*-

“What are you going to do?”

Pete shifted uncomfortably, almost wishing Dr. Brown would shout instead. His department head was, instead, adopting a “concerned but fair” approach that made him even more nervous. “I... I don’t know,” he confessed.

“Tell me what happened,” Dr. Brown said, leaning back in his leather armchair.

Pete sighed. He and Marta both had been too nervous about coming in to work this morning to even eat, and she’d looked like she was going to the gallows when she’d dropped him off. He knew he didn’t feel much better, and it was hard to shake the feeling that everybody he passed in the halls had seen the video. The edited video, because most of the footage of the portal had been cut from the PornHub version. And Dr. Brown’s note on his desk had left a lead weight in his stomach.

“It, uhm, the video?” Pete asked.

“Certainly. Start there,” Dr. Brown suggested.

“It was, uhm, not intended. Certainly not to go online.” Pete bit his lip. “I was recording a discussion with Dr. Rebelo-Perez, about a peculiar apparent intersection between our respective researches, and, uhm, we, uh, sort of forgot...”

“And how did it end up online?” Dr. Brown asked.

“We think,” Pete swallowed hard. “I, uhm, showed part of it - the part about the research! - to, to someone else, who has a YouTube channel. And, and I think he airdropped it when I forgot to lock my phone.” With a groan, he buried his hands in his face. “Am I fired, or can I resign?”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Dr. Brown said, sympathetically. “I’ll have to review this case with the Dean, and with my counterpart in History and Anthropology, of course. And it is possible there will have to be an investigation.”

“My career is over,” Pete moans.

“Maybe not,” Dr. Brown remarked. “This isn’t the worst thing I’ve seen happen, believe me.” He paused, looking at Pete. “But no matter what, you’ll have to be extremely careful for a while.”
 
“Am I going to have to resign?”

Dr. Lancaster shook his head. “You have tenure. It would be one thing if you were caught sleeping with a student or a donor, but a consensual affair with a fellow professor alone isn’t going to sink your career. But it does call for a thorough investigation. So keep your head down and your nose clean, and don’t make any more videos.”

Marta nodded, covering her inward wince at the mention of sleeping with a student or donor. Those were just dreams, and she couldn’t be fired for the content of her dreams. But it did mean she was going to have to turn down Luis’ invitation to have dinner, because neither her nor Peter could afford even the appearance of impropriety at the moment. "Of course."

Her TA would take over her classes for a few days, which Marta had no complaints over. Adrienne was certainly capable, and Marta couldn’t bear the thought of facing students who may have already seen her half dressed, screaming Peter’s name as he brought her to orgasm. So she retreated to her office, and sent Peter a quick text.

Guess we figured out why you had the time to figure out that equation by Tuesday.

God, they were supposed to be celebrating. They’d time travel, or temport, as her future-self coined, tomorrow! But it wasn’t far enough back to avoid this headache, and even if it were, Peter explained they weren’t traveling to a different timeline, just a different point in time. Timeline travel was another equation altogether. Overall, it meant they had to get this right.

Marta pushed the exams aside, and pulled out her laptop, getting to work typing up her notes and outlining her paper on the Einstein-Rosen bridge equations. Doing something was far superior to waiting around for a bureaucratic decision to be made, and if her career were at risk, this might just be what saves it. Before she got too deep into it, she sent off another text to Peter.

What to meet up for lunch to discuss our research?
 
Green’s was refreshingly quiet and empty, which felt like a luxury after the tense morning he’d spent trying not to make eye contact with his colleagues. Dr. Brown had suggested that he let his TA handle classes for the next few days, and while he was sure it was meant kindly it felt like a punishment. So he’d spent the morning holed up in his office, trying to focus on writing up his research and not succeeding well, and Marta’s text had been a welcome distraction.

“So,” Pete said wryly, giving her s hug and a quick kiss when she arrived.

“Hey, prof!” Marie chirped, smiling as she approached the table. “Hi, Dr. Rebelo-Perez! You guys are in early, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” Pete countered. “I thought you had the night shift?”

She laughed. “Overtime. I don’t have classes, and Cassie’s out sick, and rent gets expensive. What can I get you?”

Pete checked his watch. “It’s eleven in the morning,” he sighed, glancing at Marta. “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Marie laughed.
 
“I am not sure showing up to campus with alcohol on our breath is going to help either of our cases. I take a seltzer water, please,” Marta said, hardly looking up from her menu, trying to ignore the pang of concern knotted int her gut. Oh, Marie was a charming and attractive young woman, no doubt, but the recent dreams brushed up again this morning’s warnings, Marta just felt awkward as hell about the situation, hating how all of this was so far out of her control. Nothing had happened, but with the threat of an ethics investigation hanging over her head, dreams too were a source of guilt. “And the chicken ceasar salad.”

Once they were alone, she reached over to squeeze Peter’s hand, “So I guess your morning went as poorly as mine?” Releasing a long sigh, she shook her head, “I might actually hurt Jeff, next time we see him. If I can’t convince Lena to dump him. At least this gives me time to dive into the Livre d’Eibon, and see if I can’t be of some use to you, in lieu of helping with the actually equations.”

Lunch arrived, and it was a welcome distraction from the gloom of this morning. Peter still picked at his, however, and so Marta found it in herself to be hopeful.

“Maybe things aren’t so bad. I mean, we already know you are on the verge of cracking the equation for the coordinates. And we’re already proven that we can travel over long distances. I bet we can show that video to the dean, to keep our jobs.” she allowed herself a small laugh and a half smirk. “It might not even come to that. Whatever happens, though, I am sure we can get through it together.”
 
“So I guess your morning went as poorly as mine?” Marta asked, squeezing his hand.

“I got a painfully sympathetic conversation about what happened,” Pete grimaced, “and a pep talk about how ethics investigations aren’t that bad and how the Dean probably won’t take any action because I’m the victim of a data breach.” He sighed and squeezed her hand sympathetically. “He’s real big on that ‘servant leader’ thing. How about you? Are you all right?”

She released a long, low sigh. “I might actually hurt Jeff, next time we see him. If I can’t convince Lena to dump him.”

Pete winced. “That good, huh?”

“At least this gives me time to dive into the Livre d’Eibon, and see if I can’t be of some use to you,” she remarked, “in lieu of helping with the actually equations.”

“Hey, no,” he protested. “No, you’ve been an enormous help! You figured out that the, the spell,” he said the word like he couldn’t quite believe it was coming out of his mouth, “from the Necronomicon was necessary to stabilize the gates.” He laughed uncomfortably. “And I still have no idea why. But I’m, well, I’m not on administrative leave. Not officially, anyway. But I’ve got a few days off, so maybe we can...”.

He let his comments trail off as Marie returned with their food. He wasn’t sure he’d actually have an appetite, and he still wasn’t as he stared at the double cheeseburger and fries he’d ordered. Suddenly, butterflies were gnawing at his stomach again.

“Maybe things aren’t so bad,” Marta suggested.

“Hm?” Pete looked up, a mayo-coated french fry halfway to his mouth. “You think?”

“I mean,” she continued, “we already know you are on the verge of cracking the equation for the coordinates. And we’re already proven that we can travel over long distances.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. “And you’re busy demonstrating that this was all known, in certain circles at least, centuries ago. That’s got to be as big a bomb as the equations themselves, in your field at least.”

“I bet we can show that video to the dean, to keep our jobs.” she allowed herself a small laugh and a half smirk. “It might not even come to that. Whatever happens, though, I am sure we can get through it together.”

“Yeah,” Pete grinned back, cheered by her comments. “Yeah, we can.” He chewed down the french fry, then dipped another in the side of mayo. “In fact, I think I’ve got the temporal axis calibrated for the portals. I’ll want to run a few simulations, but we can try some time travel, oh, tomorrow.”

He ate a few more fries, and a bite of his burger. “Drop off the newspaper, you know? And I’m pretty sure I can set it so we don’t run into ourselves.” Pausing for a drink, he continued. “I mean, not that it wasn’t wild on Sunday, but think of the implications if we avoid it.” He leaned in. “We might have met versions of ourselves from a different timeline, instead of our future.”

Leaning back, he ate another fry. “But, either way, if it works we should try a few more time travel tests. Maybe add in some travels through space at the same time.” He grinned. “You’re a historian. Where would you like to go?”
 
“In fact, I think I’ve got the temporal axis calibrated for the portals. I’ll want to run a few simulations, but we can try some time travel, oh, tomorrow.” He ate a few more fries, and a bite of his burger. “Drop off the newspaper, you know? And I’m pretty sure I can set it so we don’t run into ourselves.”

Marta laughed, “That would be interesting, if you pull it off. And if not… well, I wasn’t complaining then, so I don’t see myself complaining in the future.” That statement accompanied a squeeze of his hand a quick kiss on the cheek.

“But, either way, if it works we should try a few more time travel tests. Maybe add in some travels through space at the same time.” He grinned. “You’re a historian. Where would you like to go?”

Marta blew out a deep breath, “Well, don’t laugh, but one event I have always wished I could have seen in person is Sojourner Truth’s ‘Ain’t I a woman?' speech. It was poorly recorded and reported on in her time, but it’s one of the earliest examples at an attempt to explain intersectional feminism, before we even had a concept of feminism.” Excitement lit a fire in her blood, pumping faster, as if to keep up with fantasies playing out in her mind. She took a sip of her drink, but it failed to cool her enthusiasm.

“But, I mean, otherwise… the possibilities are nearly endless. We could see the Library of Alexandria, before it burned down. We could see a Shakespearean play, in the Globe Theatre, while the bard was alive!” She giggled, and brushed her hair back behind her ear, aware she was gushing, and unsure if she could stop herself. “Surely there must be something of history you’d love to experience firsthand?”
 
Marta’s enthusiasm was contagious, burning away the lingering bad mood that had settled over him. “I don’t know, really,” Pete laughed, sipping at his own drink. “Maybe go see Star Wars in the theatre on opening night? Or watch the casting and unveiling of Le Grand K?” He pursed his lips, thinking. “Watching the Trinity test would be fascinating, but I don’t know how we’d pull it off safely.”

“I’d want to go stand on the grassy knoll and shout ‘duck!’,” Marie said with a laugh, dropping off their check. “Need a refill, Professors?”

Pete jumped, wondering how much she’d heard. “Red Dwarf?” he temporized.

“Yeah, I love that show,” Marie commented, taking his glass. “And I heard you two playing the time travel game, so I couldn’t help myself.”

He relaxed. “Yeah. Where would you go, really?”

Marie thought a moment. “I’d want to meet Eratosthenes, and find out how he cane up with the idea of how to calculate the earth’s circumference.” She shrugged. “It seems so obvious now, but...”. Another shrug. “I’ll be right back.”

Blowing out a long, low breath, Pete slumped in his chair. “We should probably be a bit more discrete,” he remarked. “Until we’re ready to go public, anyway.”
 
“Yeah, but that was quick thinking,” Marta replied with a relieved giggle, “Thank goodness for your expansive knowledge about pop-culture.” They paid the bill and walked out hand in hand, Marta definitely feeling a lot better about everything that had happened, and excited for what was yet to happen.

Once they were out of Greens, and walking to the car, she spoke up again, “Honestly, I am glad my TA is taking over my classes for the rest of the week. I don’t think I could face students who might have seen that video. I’m sure something else will crop up sooner or later, and most people will have forgotten about this whole thing before long. Though, I am still going hurt Jeff.”

On the way back to campus, they drove by the basketball courts, and the nearby locker room. Flashing Peter a half smirk as memories returned, she added, “We are still lucky no one caught us in the locker rooms, that one time. I am pretty sure someone was in there with us, and that might have gotten us into a lot more trouble.”
 
“Honestly,” Marta remarked, “I am glad my TA is taking over my classes for the rest of the week. I don’t think I could face students who might have seen that video.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “Although was suppose you could try an aggressive offense instead.” He opened the door for her, then climbed in. “Just play it at the start of each lecture. ‘Yes. That’s me, fucking hard after opening a goddamn wormhole. What did you do with your Tuesday?’” He chuckled. “Or not. That’d probably end with a conversation with the Dean.”

Marta, it seemed, wasn’t even going to dignify that with a reply. “I’m sure something else will crop up sooner or later, and most people will have forgotten about this whole thing before long. Though, I am still going hurt Jeff.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. “Are we staging an accident, or just curb-stomping him?”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, while Pete navigated through campus. “We are still lucky no one caught us in the locker rooms, that one time,” she remarked.

“Yeah,” Pete replied, shifting a little as the memory made him harden. “Could have been awkward.”

“I am pretty sure someone was in there with us,” she added, “and that might have gotten us into a lot more trouble.”

“No kidding,” he laughed. “It’d be hard to explain away someone walking in on you on your knees like that. ‘She tripped’ really isn’t believable.”
 
Marta cocked her head and squinted her eyes, trying to figure out if she’d heard Peter right. “On my knees? What are you talking about?” Then she laughed, and shook her head, “No, I am talking about the basketball game, and how we fooled around beforehand.”

The memory warmed her more than the car’s heater or the thick sweater and coat she wore. “I almost think you were trying to get us caught, teasing me about how good I looked getting fucked by you and your thick cock.” Damn, if she couldn’t go for more of that right now.

By now he’d parked, and was giving her an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t quite the lustful leer she’d hoped for. “It was really hot, the way you pushed me against the wall and fucked me in the shower room. I might have to admit I like getting manhandled, every now and again. Honestly, I didn’t think you were going to pull and I was so horny, I almost wished you wouldn’t.” They she forced a laugh, leaning back in her seat so she could resist the urge to pull him into a kiss.
 
“Fucked you in the..?” Hot as that mental image was, Pete found himself staring curiously at Marta as she described how much she’d enjoyed being manhandled and fucked hard. In a way that had nothing to do with what they’d done.

Or... did it?

“Marta?” he asked, taking her hand as he tried to articulate his thoughts. “I... that wasn’t... wasn’t me. Not me at that point in time, then.” He bit his lip, thinking. “I’d thought I heard someone, but you’d pushed me back against a locker and sucked me off. I didn’t...”

He scratched his cheek, thinking of what had happened yesterday. “I think we, uhm, traveled through time. Again.” He shifted awkwardly, feeling himself growing even harder. “Is this, I mean, are we developing some odd new kink here?”
 
“It wasn’t you?” she repeated, her mind resisting the truth she wasn’t ready to accept. “You were there with another me? Someone else –a different you– was with me?” Marta frowned, unsure how she felt about this revelation. It wasn’t her Peter she’d fucked, but it was Peter. Did it matter if it were a future version of him? But why pretend to be hers? Why lie?

“This is pretty fucked up,” she said finally, squeezing his hand for comfort. “It’s not a kink I want to develop. I mean, clearly we are open to inter-temporal flings, but the deception… I don’t like it.” TurnIng to face him, desire cooled and disquiet built in her mind. She wanted him to hold her, to comfort her, to promise he’d never mislead her like that.

A new concern rose up in her mind then. How would she know for certain that Peter was her Peter, at any given time? Did it matter? Is he always hers, no matter whether he was from the present, or form the future? “Am I overreacting? I mean, it still you, but… you wouldn’t lie to me like that, would you? Will you?”
 
“This is pretty fucked up,” she said finally, squeezing his hand for comfort. “It’s not a kink I want to develop. I mean, clearly we are open to inter-temporal flings, but the deception… I don’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed, squeezing her hand in return. “Unsettling... I don’t know if that’s strong enough. The idea that we might lie to ourselves, just to...”. The thought trailed away as suspicion nagged at him. Did they know that their future selves were really from tomorrow? How would they check? Could it have been themselves from further in the future, or even from another timeline? He squeezed her hand tighter, suddenly feeling as if he were drowning. “Shit. This time travel business gets fucking complicated.”

She must have been thinking along the same lines. “Am I overreacting?”

“I, I don’t think so,” he swallowed.

“I mean, it still you,” she said, in a mall voice that sounds as unsettled as he felt, “but… you wouldn’t lie to me like that, would you? Will you?”

“No!” he said, anxiety making the word more forceful than he’d intended. “I, that is, no. I wouldn’t. I won’t. Ever.” He grimaced. “But, we need to figure something out. Some way to tell us from future us or past us. And avoid screwing around with our own history, until we do.” He sighed. “That means we may have to go back tomorrow, though. Just to prove it was us there.”
 
Marta nodded, “Okay, that makes sense. I don’t mind, so much, and at least we were –or I guess will be– honest.” She allowed herself a little laugh.

“As far as how to identify us? IN a way that a future us couldn’t take advantage of, by means of their knowledge?” Marta considered this for a moment, “Well, we could use a series of changing passcodes. Everyday, when we first wake up, we each pick a two-digit number, that, together, becomes the passcode. As long as we keep picking different ones each day, our future selves will be unlikely to be able to remember one from a given day.” Marta considered this for awhile and shrugged, “So long as it doesn’t get too confusing.”

Leaning back into the seat once more, almost as if she could relax again, she worked through the possibilities. “But, what we would even do if we did come upon an alternate us? I mean, I can’t imagine a version of me would want to hurt you, but I can’t imagine wanting to deceive you either, and yet some version of me did.”

With a final sigh, and a last squeeze of his hand, Marta readied herself to exit the car, “I should probably head back to my office, in any case. You still need to finish up the equations, don’t you?” She offered a kiss, a small token pf comfort and connection between them, before getting out.

And yet, as she walked back into the Humanities building, her mind filled with all the strange occurrences of the past few weeks. The shared dreams, and all the ways those dreams bled into real life. The travels through time and space. The encounters with other versions of them. And it all started with that thing, in first portal. The thing with too many eyes and no shape. Madness, manifested.

Alone in her office, Marta closed her door and blew out a long breath. Maybe they just needed to take a break from the portals and all that it involved. So they would, she decided. This weekend, once Peter figured out time travel equations, and had a couple chances to test it. Satisfied with her decision, she returned to the book she’d been reading before lunch, and tried not to be disturbed by the tall, thin, black figure she’d opened up to.
 
Pete waved as Marta headed for the Humanities building, then started the car and backed out. Thoughts chased through his mind as he drove, and as he returned to his own office, his mind whirling as he considered the problems at hand. Identification. The equations. Alternate worlds. The past. The future. And how did the dreams tie into it? And what was that thing they’d seen through the very first gate? Was it a mistake? A trap? Had Goode Brown tried to destroy her executioners, rather than escape them.

Sitting at his desk, he idly doodles on a notepad as he continued to think. Marta’s idea of a two-digit code was a good one, no, an excellent one. As long as they didn’t write the numbers down. Dice, maybe? He had plenty of polyhedral dice available, a souvenir of his ‘nerd days’, that could be used to generate random numbers. Right, then. Dice to generate the morning’s random numbers, and each of them would have to remember the other’s number as well as their own. And a coin toss to determine who offered the security handshake each day.

Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Wasn’t it? Except that he’s been blown by a different Marta, from the future or somewhen else, while some other Pete had fucked Marta. A thought that made him simultaneously hard and uncomfortable. “They could have just told us,” he muttered. “They could have...”

A knock at his office door made him jump. “Come in!”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Dr. Brown said, peering in. “And there’s a few administrative formalities we need to cover.”

“I’m, I guess I’m doing all right,” Pete sighed, watching his department head take a seat. “Distracted. I’m having a hard time concentrating, right now.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” Dr. Brown replied. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been in contact with Dr. Lancaster, the head of the history department.” He leaned back in his seat. “He says that Dr. Rebelo-Perez’ story agrees with yours, and that he also believes the two of you to be victims. That will be our joint assessment when we meet with the Dean.” He smiled at Pete’s relieved sigh. “There wil still have to be a review, of course, but I’m confident the both of you will be fine.”

“That’s good to hear,” Pete said.

“Also, Dr. Lancaster pointed out that whoever it was that posted the video could be guilty of criminal harassment,” Dr. Brown continued. “If it was part of a pattern of willful and malicious acts. Do you...”

“I, no. I don’t think it qualifies,” Pete said after a moment. “It’s a long story, but the start of the video - the part edited out of what went viral - was Marta and I having a conversation about history and quantum mechanics, and the possibility that an Arkham woman discovered some elements of quantum theory in the 17th century.” It wasn’t quite a lie. “If the person who took it was the person we think, he was trying to get that conversation for a YouTube video.”

Dr. Brown looked at him. “Well, in future... uhm, What are you sketching?”

Pete looked down at the legal pad. An image of the lean, shadowy figure from his dreams stared back.
 
The week progressed without anymore surprises. The journey back in time had proven just as bizarre as the first time around, even if they were participating in it from the other perspective, and they made it back to their time without incident. The ethics investigation cleared them of any wrongdoing, Which proved a major relief to Marta, but they still were going to want to be careful for the rest of the semester. The only surprising thing that happened was Peter agreeing to put his research away for the weekend, but Marta suspected that he too was overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they’d discovered together.

~*~​

“So, it’s an actress playing the Doctor this time around? And that got everyone up in arms?” Marta asked, placing the popcorn bowl and a drink on the table before joining him on the couch and molding her body to his. They’d passed a relaxing weekend together, with no talk of portals or equations or 17th century witches. The closest they came was Sunday evening, when Peter asked her if she’d check out Doctor Who with him. Apparently, it was a new season with a new Doctor, so it was a perfect time to jump into it.

And, as it turned out, it was pretty fun, with only superficial connections to their own experiments. “They all seemed to take the whole alien thing pretty well. I am not sure I’d go along with it so easily,” Marta decided, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth. A few moments passed in quiet serenity, Marta cuddling Peter and uninterested in moving yet.

“So, you go back to teaching tomorrow? Not nervous, or anything like that?” Her head rested on his chest, soothed by the steady rhythm of his breathing. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and then we should be able to stop using condoms.” With a giggle, she leaned into him, teasing his neck and jaw with her lips. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. To not having to worry about it, anymore.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what he thought about that, to ask him about starting a family at some point, but she stopped herself. Living together after two weeks was moving fast enough. Now wasn’t the time to talk about babies.
 
Slowly, things got better. They didn’t go back to ‘normal’, precisely, but the investigation cleared them and the time off from teaching let him catch up with some of the research he’d been neglecting. The research he had grants to perform, not the madhouse whirl of wormhole equations that haunted him everywhere he went. He and Marta traveled back to Sunday, and the event was as hot and as confusing as it had been the first time,but he tried to make himself take a break ithef than that moment.

Marta’s suggestion that they just spend the weekend relaxing was a godsend, really. Even if the equations danced before his eyes and sketched patterns of fire in his mind as he slept.

-*-

“So, it’s an actress playing the Doctor this time around?” Marta asked. “And that got everyone up in arms?”

“Yep,” Pete replied, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Because the Internet is filled with toxic basement-dwelling neckbeards.” He settles back, smiling as Marta snuggled against him. “I’m just hoping they let her save the day by doing something other than declaring she’s the Doctor and giving a speech. The last few seasons have been filled with that.”

The episode was fun, he decided. A fun romp so utterly divorced from their own experiments with time and space travel that he could lose himself in the action and the humor. “Well, if they keep that up, it’ll be a good season.”

“They all seemed to take the whole alien thing pretty well,” she observed, crunching some popcorn. “I am not sure I’d go along with it so easily,”

“It’s part of the conceit of the show,” he shrugged. “And a lot simpler than trying to figure out how we’d react to real aliens. Which would mostly, I think, be a lot of trying to figure out what the hell we’re looking at.”

“So, you go back to teaching tomorrow?” Marta asked, resting her head on his chest. “Not nervous, or anything like that?”

“A little,” he confessed. “I’m sure it’ll feel a little awkward at first, but I’m as ready as I can expect. You?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and then we should be able to stop using condoms.” The comment, delivered with a light giggle, went straight to his cock. Her trading kisses on his skin complimented the reaction. “I’ve really been looking forward to this. To not having to worry about it, anymore.”

“I’d be a lying son of a bitch if I said I wasn’t,” he laughed, shifting a little and kissing her back. “I mean, I enjoy everything we’ve been doing,” he murmured, tugging at her t-shirt so he could caress her bare skin, “but I’d like to stay in you.” His lips traced her jaw, then found her mouth again. “Stay in your arms, instead of having to rush to take care of the condom.”

There was more to it, he realized. He found himself vaguely resenting the need for the pill, even. But... he’d known her less than a month. Talking about families and children would be rushing it, right?

Pushing the thought aside, he worked her t-shirt over her head, letting her bare arms settle around his neck as he nipped at her throat. “Of course, we’ve got some of them left,” he grinned, working at the hooks of her bra. “Be a shame to waste them...”
 
“I mean, I enjoy everything we’ve been doing, but I’d like to stay in you. Stay in your arms, instead of having to rush to take care of the condom.”

Marta hummed, heat spreading over her skin at his words. “Is that so? You make it sound so sweet and romantic, while I am just thinking about how good it feels when you cum inside me.” She rose up as he pulled her shirt away, pushing hungrier kisses on to his lips.

“Of course, we’ve got some of them left. Be a shame to waste them...”

“A shame,” she agreed, the word hardly more than a hot breath on his skin. They left a trail of clothes on their way to the bedroom –she had some time tomorrow before her appointment, she could tidy up then– before she pushed him on the bed. As much as she missed his warmth (did he realize how cold 68 was when you were naked?), she didn’t follow him down, but instead opened the drawer and pulled out a condom. She made a performance of tearing it open

“Hmm, I am not sure you’re ready yet,” she teased, stroking him a few times while holding his gaze, “Looks like I am going to need to fix that.” The bed shifted as she crawled over him, positioning herself over his cock “Tell me you want to be inside me,” she exhaled, brushing lips over his hardening shaft. Her tongue darted out, circling the crown of his cock, before pulling back a touch, “Beg me to fuck you.” Then she swallowed him, saliva drooling down his shaft.
 
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