The Artifact (Book 2, Time Trilogy)

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Chapter Forty-Four: Coming Clean

July 2023
The Billings Farm
Redwater, Virginia

}}}-----> WAHYA <-----{{{

Wahya felt good - being outside, moving his body, and working brought renewed energy to his mind and body. Even if he wasn’t completely sure why they were digging holes - round ones, then a large square one - collecting people-things, then taking notes and drawing pictures of the holes, only to fill them in again. Surely, not to search for his missing knife, which they did not find in the end.

He understands that Morgan is a history-keeper of sorts, so she was interested in each item they found. Yet, he has to wonder just how much information about the people who discarded these items she can obtain without talking to the owners of the objects. It was all so technical, yet he didn’t really care - he felt useful for a change, instead of in the way. Not that Morgan ever made him feel like he was in her way, by any means. But he still feels like a child, unable to do much of anything for himself here in her time. And not that she’s treated him like a child either. No, he swallows, she’s treated him very much like a man with every inch of woman that she is.

He could tell Morgan wasn’t used to this work or the heat, but he had to give her credit - she kept at it. Now that they’re finishing up, he continues to put gear back in the SUV, but listens as Morgan talks on the phone - her tone sounding more stressed than usual. He recognizes the man’s voice when she puts it on speaker so Samantha can hear but can’t place the person until Morgan hangs up irritably, then begins to converse with Samantha - probably about the phone call he guesses.

“Emory, from the lab,” he recalls, remembering the irritating man who had been vying for Morgan’s attention when they’d met a few days ago. Wahya wishes he knew what she’d been talking about with Emory, and what she and Samantha are saying now. Whatever Samantha tells Morgan in the end seems to relax her drastically though, and he wonders if he should ask about it later in drawings.

By the time they get the car packed and the site cleaned up, it’s late afternoon and all three wearily climb into the vehicle. The drive back is relatively quiet, with Samantha feeling the effects of exertion and a long day out more than she’d like to admit. Wahya is simply happy to not have experienced another time warp, finding the location more pleasant this time, despite his memories of it twice before - during his fight with the Iroquois, and again last time with the stormy time warp. He rubs the gorget between his hands as they drive down the highway, sure that having it securely around his neck had everything to do with keeping the bad magic away.

James had taken a sick day to care for little Melia today, and is waiting for his wife when they arrive back at Samantha’s house. Morgan and Wahya wish her farewell and he climbs into the front seat as usual for the remaining drive to Morgan’s home. He changes the radio to his favorite station, off of the talk radio Samantha had opted for, and his thoughts wander in the comfortable silence. On their way back from the site, Morgan and Samantha had explained through drawings that tomorrow Morgan and he would be going to the lab to look at the things they collected today. Now that he understands that he’s in the future, he wants to take the opportunity to take another look at the arrowheads and other stone tools Morgan has in the cabinets there.

“I’ll bet those triangular points were from a time between my own and this one. They were unlike anything I have ever seen! I want to know more about how they were made and what they were hafted to - arrow shafts, handles...”

“If I do manage to get back to my own time, maybe I could make use of this knowledge to improve our own tools,” he thinks aloud, and Morgan turns to him, attempting to concentrate on what he’s saying.

While a couple days ago, he had thought it was weird when she’d talk to him as though he understood her every word, he’s now beginning to realize that it’s somehow easier to talk out what you want to express first. Then you can figure out how to express it differently after the fact. At the very least it feels good to get it out one way or another and talk to somebody else. And so, he continues as though he were talking to Inoli [Badger] or any of his friends and family at home.

“How much do you know all about those arrowheads in the lab?” He continues to her. “I would like to see them again tomorrow and have you tell me about them if possible. You could draw pictures to tell me things. Like when were they made? Who made them? You know, stuff like that.”

He would have tried his hand at drawing the arrowheads out, but the sketchpad is in the back again, so he continues to talk instead. It feels good to just release his thoughts for a change, and he knows Morgan isn’t going to judge him for it. She listens quietly, at least understanding his need to talk.

He continues as his thoughts bubble out. “I never really thought about the future beyond my own life - maybe my future children and grandchildren’s lives, but not this far ahead. I neverwould have imagined the world like this at all. I want to know so much more about this time. I wonder, too, if any of my family’s descendants are around. I am guessing, since I’m here now, that I wouldn’t have any descendants of my own in this time. How does that work anyways?”

The concept of time travel’s implications on his own lineage are troubling and he pauses for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what his leaving his own time period would change. Suddenly, his thoughts are broken as he hears Morgan’s voice, filled with gentle laughter. He knows she’s teasing him by the look she gives him, and he figures she probably wonders what in the world he’s going on about.

He replies with a smile in return, “Morgan, I’m just lucky that I ended up here with you. There’s no one else I’d rather be with here in the future, or in any time for that matter.”

Wahya reaches over to cup her face and Morgan’s laughing smile turns tender at the touch of his hand and she blushes. He holds his palm there for a moment before dropping his hands in his lap again. If he were to go back to his time, he wonders if the Spirits would allow her to come with him. Turning more contemplative himself, he runs his fingertip over an almost healed scab on his arm, and wonders if she would even like his time.

“Maybe she would miss all the things that make life easier for her here. And surely, she would miss her family and friends, just as I miss mine. How would she fit in with my people? She’s so different - would they all accept her? I know Grandmother and Father would.”

Upon arriving at the house, they offload Morgan’s things, leaving their muddy boots, shoes, and gear in the garage. He follows Morgan inside, the air between them still softly charged after their wordless interchange when he’d touched her face in the car. Morgan takes his hand, leading him down the hall, through the bedroom, and into the master bathroom.

“Come...,” she bids him.

}}}-----> MORGAN <-----{{{

Closing the bathroom door behind them, Morgan turns to him. Her heart pounds at the hunger in his eyes, likely mirroring her own. The vivid memory of his kisses earlier this morning excites her, and the few much more subtle, but enticingly tender moments they shared since have wilted the nerves she momentarily had at lunch today. She’s still not sure if this is love, but it’s close enough, her heart and body tells her. But right now it’s the darkened look he gives her that suddenly makes her want him to take her just as ravenously as she had him last night at the kitchen table. His silent invitation is clear, his gaze telling her that he’s ready to satiate her own and his apparent needs and desires with every morsel of his body.

In an effort to return his message, she steps closer, giving him an equally hungry look, gazing up at him expectantly. She can practically hear the blood pumping through her veins in the silence of the bathroom as he pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it to the corner, then takes Morgan’s hands and spins her around so her back is towards him. She’d fantasized about being with him in the water since his first shower here and is determined to make the fantasy a reality now. Wahya motions for her to stay put, as he steps over to the shower, turning the water on - his arm getting wet in the process. Knowing that it takes a little while to warm, he returns to her, apparently planning to spend the next few minutes warming the both of them up.

Tucking her body against him again, they both look at one another in the large mirror in front of them. The concept of watching their reflections together in passion is new and thrilling to Morgan in a most unexpected way. She smiles and gently laughs with her exhale as Wahya places one hand on her hip, then runs his now-wet thumb from her cheekbone down to her jaw, wiping away a dark streak of dirt from the day’s work. But Wahya has no intention of keeping things light, she soon learns, as he pulls at the collar of her t-shirt, dipping his head to meet the soft nape of her neck. At first, she gasps in surprise, expecting soft nuzzles, but soon gives way to soft moans instead, as his lips and teeth graze her skin, sending chills of delight down her spine.

She’s sure she must taste of salt and the earth after today’s work, yet Wahya doesn’t seem to mind. She inhales deeply, his natural sweat smell is sort of sweet, mixed with the fragrance of the earth they’d worked in all day, and the floral undertones of the soap which barely lingers from his shower this morning. His eyes dart up to the mirror again, meeting hers as she relaxes and tenses with his administrations. Dark with desire, she’s sure that if he hadn’t already started the shower, he would easily make her his right here - their reflections urging him on.

Running his hands down her sides, Wahya finds the bottom of her shirt and pulls it up, bringing the garment over her head as she raises her arms. He runs his lips along the length of her arm, from her inner elbow to her shoulder while his hands slide down her sides again and around to the front of her jeans. In a matter of seconds her pants fall to the floor, along with her panties. Still unfamiliar with the workings of yet another type of bra, Wahya hastens the process by simply pulling the sports bra up and over her head, skipping the hooks, and tossing it to the floor. The speed at which he unclothes her fills her with expectations of his need to be with her and she quivers inside.

She watches as he quickly undresses, simultaneously stepping out of the piled clothes at her feet and discarding her socks along with the rest to the side. Lastly, Wahya pulls the band from his hair, letting his raven black locks tumble over his back and shoulders, and she thinks that even the Greek gods would have difficulty competing with the toned muscles and deeply tanned and reddened complexion of the man in all his glory standing before her now.

With nothing on, save for the gorget between the both of them, Wahya takes Morgan’s hand, leading her to the now-steaming shower. She feels his eyes roam over her shapely backside as she steps in first, and she doesn’t think she could be any more turned on.

She tweaks the water temperature just a tad, then turns to face him as he steps inside, closing the glass door behind him. The water from above cascades over her body as she leans her head back, closing her eyes and running her fingers through her hair under the flow. Wahya gives her a moment to rub her face under the water, the smudges of the day easily disappearing.

But they both know what they want right now, and Morgan steps out from under the water, her lips slightly parted, silently beckoning to him.

“Oh, Walela...,” he murmurs the familiar nickname.

Bodies clash, limbs intertwine, and heat rises as the lovers meet under the warm water, drinking in one another. Soon Wahya backs Morgan against the stone tile, his muscular frame towers over her, but not for long. Reaching for her thighs from behind he pulls her legs upward, and she instantaneously wraps her knees tightly around his waist, pulling herself up and wrapping her arms around his neck - her breasts meeting his chest with the gorget tucked snugly between them. Pressing her yet again against the cool tile wall, Wahya’s erect manhood impales her willing and ready center, and Morgan calls out in ecstasy as he pushes his hips rhythmically into her. Wahya, driven by the echoes of her cries off the walls and the pounding of the water on his back, tightens his hold on her slippery thighs as he thrusts his hips harder and faster, his breathing matching the exertion.

“Wahya! Oh, Waaahya...,” she exhales breathily as he expertly strokes her insides with his hard and swollen length, sending mind-numbing waves of ecstatic joy throughout her body.

Clenching her legs even tighter to his torso and burying her head in the crook of his neck, Morgan heaves and pulsates in pleasure, diving into her climax. Her moans of pleasure reverberate all around him, and Wahya tenses as though his whole body were being consumed by her orgasm - from his shaft, deep in her well, to his exterior, warm with the rivulets of water streaming over him from above.

When his release finally comes, his exclaims join hers, as he throbs from his very core, every nerve in his body seeming to fire sparks of ecstatic electricity into her. Morgan can tell that his knees are weakening as he steadies himself, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist, while his other hand finds the wall for support.

Morgan is as spent as he is, and with no choice but to loosen her hold from around his neck, as her strength fails, she lifts her face from beneath his. Her breathing continues heavily, and her knees slowly lose their grasp around his middle. Ever so slowly, Wahya lets her gently down, withdrawing from inside her as her feet touch the shower floor. They cling to each other for a moment more, before Morgan relaxes her hold, looking up at him from under the shower of water. Her heart melts as she sees his drowsy, satisfied expression, and she softly smiles up at him. Wahya stoops to gently kiss her smile, making her melt just a bit more.

When they finally part, Morgan reaches for the loofah, pouring a good amount of body wash onto the blue mesh, then squeezing it into a generous lather. The next several minutes are spent in the pursuit of cleansing the dirt and sweat from each other’s bodies, as they take turns running the soapy loofah and their hands over one another in the most arousing bath Morgan has ever experienced.

Just as the water begins to cool, the thoroughly washed lovers coalesce once more in spasms of pleasure brought on purely by the touch and strokes of the other’s fingers and mouths in all the right places.

Wishing they could remain like this for all time, Morgan ushers from under her breath, “I think I love you, Wahya.”

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