Back to the Future (Sequel to Outlander Reversed)

Two

November, 2014

The next Morn, the first one of November, everything seemed more than a lil surreal to Jamie when he first registered the Sunlight starting to stream through the blinds and cracked open his eyes. He’d to gently run his hands up and down his beautiful wife’s side and front–particularly her midriff–just to be sure he hadn’t been Dreaming. Watching one’s spouse be run through with a sword was a living nightmare, but it was an injury no one shoulda been able to survive.

        Luckily, Summer was still every bit as real as she’d been all–well, Summer and for roughly half the Spring. A soft moan drifted from her lips as his hand made it back to the underside of her breast, which pressed into his palm as she arched her back. Her hips ground backward to snugly seat the length of his cock in the crack of her ass, and he’d to bite back a groan.

        Unfortunately, it wasn’t long afterward that they heard a soft thump, which told them that at least Ian’d risen for the Morn. That made the ginger man let go of her so he could go meet him–or Jenny, if she happened to emerge first–in the downstairs hallway. After all, as far as he kent, neither of them’d been shown the bathroom and how to use the plumbing contained in it the Night previous. Doubtless they were under the impression they’d need to find a chamber pot or locate the outhouse before they could relieve themselves.

        “Morn, brother,” his sister yawned, obliviousta the state of his crotch since she was still mostly asleep. “Care to show me where the outhouse is? There’s no a chamber pot in there.”

        “Neither of those’re necessary,” Jamie chuckled, gently grabbing her arm.

        “But where are we–” she started, cutting herself off with a surprised yelp as he gently shoved her into a Dark room.

        “Push down on the lil handle on the square box when ye’re done,” the ginger man laughed, pulling the door shut behind him after turning the Light on for her. “That’ll get rid of the mess for ye, unlike a chamber pot.”

        “Och, a marvelous invention!” Jenny through the door. “Why didna we’ve these in the eighteenth Century?”

        “I dinna ken, but you’re no the only one who Wishes we did,” he answered, peeking into the downstairs bedroom. “Need any help, brother?”

        “Only whatever facilities she’s using once she’s done,” Ian answered, his crossed legs speaking to his urgency. “But since she almost clawed me flesh off so I’d let go of her, I figured it best to wait me turn.”

        “No doubt for the best,” the ginger man agreed, scooping his nephew up when he reached up to him with a whine. “Dinna fash, laddie–we’ll get you cleaned up, too.”

        “As long as I can figure out this new-fangled clout, that is,” his sister said as she rejoined them. “Summer showed me last Night, but I dinna ken that I remember.”

        “Long as Jamie can manage not to burn our breakfast, I can show ya again,” the wife in question chuckled after his brother-in-law’d excused himself.

        “Och, I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at cooking on these new appliances!” Jamie retorted, laying his nephew down on the bed. “Still need some practiceta get as good at it as you, though, I’ll admit.”

        “Just follow your nose and remember what I toldja about not dripping grease on the burners, and I’m sure you’ll do fine, rakkaus,” she said, shooing him off with a pat to his rump.

        “What does that last word mean?” the brunette woman queried curiously as they turned their attention to changing Young Jamie. “Ye keep calling him that, and it makes me wonder if ’tis an insult.”

        Laughing as they settled on the edge of what was now hers and Ian’s bed, Summer was more than glad to translate it for her. The word literally meant Love in Finnish, which was one of her most commonly-spoken languages. Even though she coulda given him a pet name in Gaelic like he’d done for her, the use of that or Elvin–which was technically her mother tongue–always felt more right to her.

        Jenny’s brows rose in surprise as she continued by saying that when he didn’t call her mo chridhe, the ginger man usually called her kultaseni. But she thought it was sweet once told that that word literally translated to sweetheart, a smile crossing her face at the Thought. She damn sure wasn’t surprised that her brother’d wanna learn more, though–he’d a gift with picking up languages quickly, and he’d undoubtedly wanna know what his wife was saying to or about him, no matter what language she said it in.