Olivia told them to stay put and pushed her bed up next to one currently occupied.

"Mm… did my man enjoy himself? And how about you, Astrid? Did he satisfy you? Doesn't matter, he's getting punished, either way."

They both still smelled heavily of the exertions with one another, but Olivia could distinctly detect Peter's essence among the feral scents.

Astrid looked at Olivia shyly and did not answer. Peter shifted himself upwards in the small bed, causing it to creak ever so slightly, a barely noticeable sound compared to the cacophony caused by the physical actions inflicted upon it earlier. Peter had been a bit louder than he had intended.

"Don't tell me you had second thoughts about this, Liv?" Peter gave Astrid a concerned look.

Olivia had no reason to ever feel jealousy because Peter gave himself completely to her when they married, so he was genuinely confused by her actions: Especially when he recalled the conversation that had led to all of this.

"Livia, pinch me. You are really asking me if I'd sleep with Astrid?"

"She needs it. It would take her stress away and make her feel more included in this… odd family unit. All I know, Peter, is that as much as I love you, sometimes I just needed you to fuck me senseless, and it made everything better. Did you ever notice that often it was my worst days when I'd jump you, and want it rough and often kinky? The worse I felt, the harder I just wanted you to bang me. It sounds kind of crude coming from me like that… but…"

"Stop, right there sweetheart, because hearing you talk like that is making me want YOU right now." His eyes travelled from hers down to the obvious mound in his jeans that had formed' he looked back up to her and flashed a wicked smirk.

"Oh, no. Don't make me have sex with the sweet, smart, and attractive assistant who I had long desperately tried to think of as merely family as a way to keep from thinking about her in that way – before you drug me back from the other side, of course… Actually, it was when you were thrown from the SUV when William Bell pulled you over to see him. At that point, when I was so afraid that you were gone, I knew I wanted you. Only you. Ugh, but now I'm confused, because I wouldn't mind playing with Astrid for a bit and making her feel good; feel loved."

Olivia loved to look at him from this new viewpoint: coming down from the high of a new lover; his hair adorably mussed, skin lightly flushed as a tell-tale sign of prior sexual exertion, and nipples acting as a gauge for the cold of the air in the lab office/makeshift bedroom.

"Jeez, chill you two… I am OK with this. Really, all we have is each other, and the world has changed so much. I prefer to open my mind to the sexual possibilities. I know where Peter's heart rests, and you have to admit; he is amazing in bed. It's not right to not share, because no other opportunities are available for the foreseeable future."

Olivia carefully brushed her husband's cheek with light touches of the back of curled fingers, looking at the small scar. He was aging well, all things considered. In her mind, and physically, he was still 37-years-old. His hair was leaning more towards his natural curly heritage, and was getting quite longish. Being close to him, she had noticed ever so few strands of grey had made their way into the mix, mostly hidden in the forest of brown locks. Fine-etched lines from years of worry were reminders of their struggles, and had their place next to his deep-sea eyes. She loved how they became more pronounced when he smiled lovingly at her, or at their daughter. Sadly, in these times, his smile or laugh was a rare occurrence.

They both had long suffered the weight of the world—of worlds—on their shoulders, and they were ever so close to shrugging. Scratch that—Peter had shrugged, damning the outside world because what he had fought so hard to have was taken from him. Their collective soul had lost its cohesion over the course of the invasion. Losing Etta not once, but in finality, was the force needed to completely tear them apart, to strip them of the essence of all that held them together. But her memory and their love for her healed that rift, and that weld was the strength that would carry them to either victory, or obliteration, together.

Times like these are often a reminder of times past. Years ago, when she first sat on a bench with Peter, drinking coffee and spilling her guts about the file-which-did-not-exist, this was the first time she really taken in by how ruggedly handsome he was – and still is. Peter has always has a rounded face and cheeks, which gave him the allusion of being a bit chunky. But he had the strong frame of swimmer or runner; muscular, but not in a ripped manner.

At one time, Olivia knew the source and story for every scar on Peter's battered body. She considered them just a part of what made him uniquely Peter—some badges of experiences, both good and bad. He never minded her slight stretch marks either – they were a sign that she had given life to their daughter. He had his battle scars, and she had hers. Each life partner kept a well-detailed mental image of the other's bodies. Every mole—every ticklish spot—every secret OMG, please keep doing that place, inside and out. Each detail was different from any other person—in both universes.

She knew the tales; everything from stupid kid stunts to a case of something that should have ended way worse than it did. Peter had once been caught by a mark that wasn't too happy about being played as a fool. Peter described to her through choked-up words, how he had been brutally beaten and raped hard by several men, only to be tossed into a muddy ditch on a rainy, country back road. He later woke up in a hospital and was arrested as soon as he was stable. This, he had never told anyone. Olivia was overcome with sadness for him, as she too had experienced some sexual trauma, due to her stepfather.

But Peter, sweet Peter, a man so sure and cocky with everyone but her, said that he deserved his torment. That SHE was innocent and deserved none of the terrible things that happened to her. She had held him against her breast and stroked the back of his head; her quivering hand ran through the soft, thick near-curls that she adored. Few people had ever seen the unsure, soft, child-like side of Peter Bishop. Olivia softly explained to her beloved that he had been caught up in bad things because of his unstable childhood—but he had received absolution due to his penitence. Peter looked up at her, catching her complete attention, his eyes glistened in the pale moonlight from weeping, and he lovingly whispered, "Only because you are my angel; the light that brought me home. I would have died without you."

Maybe that was true. He fully believed that if he had not left Iraq and gone back to Boston with her those many years ago, it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. He had reiterated her guardian status once again when she stopped him from accepting a full-on Observer conversion. But all she knew that she felt incomplete without him, and he had done his fair share of saving her, but in a different way.

Her heart had hurt for so long, especially when she found out that her alternate had literally taken him. But he DID hold on to her, gave her space to cope with her feelings, and eventually Olivia saw how much he hurt… because he truly loved HER, and wanted nothing more than a beautiful life with HER.

The first time they made love, she was sort of shy at first; for her, Peter was unexplored territory. When he removed his well-worn, soft blue jeans, which freed his constrained bulge—she had caused him to get hard within seconds of seductive kissing and groping him against the door of his bedroom—she smiled, making him grin.

"I take it that you like what you see?"

Her face lit up and she whimsically countered with a wink, "What? I don't see anything but a circus tent. Though that's quite the big-top you have there, Mr. Bishop."

He was amused as evidenced by his cute chuckle, as he lied back against the pillow propped up along the headboard of his bed, with her next to him. He had put her at ease. The soon-to-be-lover took a deep breath and carefully removed his covering boxers, never taking his intense gaze from her eyes, allowing her to see the complete package. Olivia was pleasantly surprised to find that Peter was of good size and girth, with the "tackle" to match. Like Astrid, she, too, had sometimes wondered what exactly he had, early on. Her long-neglected body was pleased to feel his more-than-enough, but not-too-much.

As cliché as it sounded, it was as if he was made for her; the most complex, interlocking two-piece puzzle ever, finally put together; on more than just the physical level. They were perfectly aligned pieces of a mental zipper, which bound their souls together. That night, all of her pain washed away with each of his kisses, each caress, each stroke; the soft, shaking call of her name as he poured into her, and his proclamation of love to her, something he swore he never said to her alternate. They both were raw and vulnerable, but after that night they were made whole again.

The next morning when they had breakfast, they laughed and talked. When he remembered the funny exchange they had before he bared all to her, her now official mate asked, "So now that you've 'seen the elephant,' what do you think?"

Olivia had given him a clearly confused look which led him to explain:

"You joked last night about only seeing the circus tent; well, during the time of the American Civil War, circuses were a big deal. They didn't happen often, and elephants were an exotic attraction that everyone wanted to see. The naïve country boys at the start of the war were anxious to get into their first battle—something they hadn't seen before and were curious about. So, the soldiers called going into battle 'seeing the elephant.' Sadly, those who survived their first battle realized that these bloody events were nothing special, much like poor, big, smelly, caged elephants."

Leave it to Peter to turn their wonderful first time into a history lesson.

She loved him even more for it; and assured him that his "circus" was more like a rocket to the moon.

Unlike some guys blessed with abundance, Peter knew exactly what to do with what he had been given – and he gave. Boy did he ever. Olivia was pretty sure that they had conceived Etta the one weekend that they had spent in Vermont, shortly after she had given in to her memories from the overwritten timeline. They acted like teenagers, or long-separated lovers—and really, being separated by non-existence and new timelines is as separated as it gets. Peter had liberally given her an overflow of his seed over the course of their many encounters that weekend. Her birth control was an abysmal failure to the assault her womb had received from his climaxes and from her own body's reactions to the intense, pleasurable euphoria that he gave her over, and over, and over, during that blissful, carefree weekend.

So, Henrietta owed her existence to one weekend of voracious, carefree sex, but when they actually tried to have another baby many months before the Observers invaded – it wouldn't happen. Peter would joke about it, but she knew it bothered him. They had talked about having two, maybe three kids; a little "tribe of Bishops."

That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, they had lost the only little Bishop they had…

Luckily, in this time, birth control was made more available than Tic-Tacs. She had a few "morning after" pills, gleaned oddly enough, from Etta's medicines, and she gave one to Astrid. It would be her damned luck that one, or even both of them, would wind up pregnant from one night of indiscretion and carefree indulgence. Olivia was NOT going to let that happen.

In times like these, they all needed to just let go.

Peter had gained confidence when he was sure his wife wanted in on this, too.

"OK, then; whatever you ladies wish, really. I'm game for anything. I'm at your service." He snickered and flashed an offering gesture over his body.

"I don't know… Maybe we should take our time. You are technically in your late fifties. Wouldn't want you to keel over." Astrid rolled her eyes as she joked.

"You were the one who straddled me like I was the prize mount at the Kentucky Derby," Peter smiled. "Not that I mind… Seeing that side of you made my early-day naughty-boy fantasies come to life."

"You fantasized about Astrid, Peter? You didn't tell me this before agreeing."

"You never asked, dear"

"Well, I can be too angry with you because I had those same thoughts, and wondered if I should have projected that willingness more. "

Peter grinned, "I never would have guessed that you're bisexual, Olivia?"

"Well… I have never been with a woman, so no. But I am open to the possibility. And I didn't exactly see you flinch when I once felt that maybe our friend Lincoln was lonely, and he could come join us."

Peter shrugged. "I have my obvious preference, but as the great Tony Curtis said in Spartacus, "I'm OK with both snails and oysters. I would have rocked Lincoln's world."

"He was meant more for me, not you," Olivia laughed.

"I want to watch you two. I've never done anything like that before." Olivia lied back on the bed, on her side, propping her head with a pillow, all the while giving Peter a mischievous smile that was always his undoing.

"Astrid, what you want? Don't be shy. Tell him."

Astrid nodded her head at Olivia and grinned, both looking at Peter like hungry wolves.

Peter gulped hard, "Why do I suddenly feel like I'm going to be incredibly tired before this night is through?"

"Go ahead." Olivia breathed heavily as she stripped. "I want you to tell Peter what you want."

"Give me a moment, to think…" Astrid put her thin arm around Peter and pulled him close with the other. Softly, slowly, kisses were up and down Peter's neck and she found one place that made him shiver with sensation, and he chuckled. Astrid's light laps soon become a full out assault of mouth, tongue and suction, Peter reached up his hand, stopping her abruptly, and proceeded to give her all of the tongue he could muster.

She cupped her hand and enjoyed the heavy feel of his balls, as she played ever so slightly with the thin layer of curly hair which covered the spongy flesh beneath, his stone prick exposed from a similarly trimmed patch. She enjoyed the velvety softness of its skin, much in contrast to how hard he was when she gave him a few good, and well-received, strokes.

Astrid caressed the light hair on his body, trailing from his groin, up his taut belly, his chest, and chin, then cupped his face in both of her small hands, and looked into his eyes for understanding. "Go down on me, Peter. I want your tongue in every crevice."

Peter pulled Astrid up by her hips as she squealed in delight, and placed her against the back of the bed. He bent down on both of his knees and held her legs back so he could gain a closer view of the pussy he just plowed shortly before. Astrid had a light coating of hair – it would be ridiculous to maintain the silly completely shaved fetish of the early 21st century. He never liked completely "bald beaver" anyway. "Mm… that's nice…" he muttered. Her pink bud was slightly visible from its surrounding robe of mocha skin, and he decided it was too shy. He delicately took his index finger around her soaked opening, getting it good and coated with her warm honey. He slowly slid it into her, and made note of her hitched breathing. It seemed to him that all women were impatient regarding this act. They loved it, and were very greedy about it. But it took time to build up, and Peter was going to take his.

Languidly, he used his finger to fuck her, and then added small long strokes from his tongue getting Astrid's lips entirely wet, as she writhed. His laps turned into meticulously placed, well-controlled strokes with the tip of his tongue and the force, speed and angle of his finger changed. At this point Astrid was babbling incoherently, and trying to toss around, but he was holding her in place.

"Fuck… Jeezus, Peter."

When he added a second finger and made his final assault, increasing the speed and intensity of his fingers while his tongue worked the center of her sexuality, she about leapt away from him, but he used his arms to hold her still, and before long, she stopped struggling only to let a loud moan escape and she flooded him with a stream of warmth that he greedily lapped up, as he loudly proclaimed how good she tasted.

Olivia felt herself become incredibly wet, and the slow heat that had been pooling in her belly was screaming for a vent. As she watched her mate do this, she played with her own soaked and jealous bud. Never mind that Peter often loved to eat her out, and she had experienced her own wet, hot orgasms as a result, every time.

Peter used his tongue and the back of his hand to wipe away the remainder of his friend's aromatic juices from his face.

"Ok, you got what you wanted; now it's my turn. Get on your hands and knees," he ordered huskily. He laughed, "Trust me. After this, you will really enjoy what's next."

Astrid did what she was told and seductively waved her rear end to Peter. Peter's tool was engorged with the pulsing force of his hot blood, and he wasted no time in giving it all to her. He grabbed her ass and spread her wide, then rubbed his hot head around her lips, entrance and clit, which created a delirious, slick friction to those parts which were already on edge from the assault of his tongue. But then she gasped abruptly as he suddenly pushed all in. He was not easy with her this time around, and gave her no time to adjust to the thick eight-inches he had reintroduced to her quivering, but still-tight body. He grabbed her hips and let loose like a hound set upon rabbits.

"I'm a naughty boy, Liv," he admitted to the air as if it were a confession.

He then bent down and growled low into Astrid's ear, "God, there were many times that I just wanted to bend you over in the lab and do this."

After a minute of hearing him grunt and listening to Astrid pant like a dog in heat, Olivia was no longer happy to just sit back and watch. She moved up behind him as he energetically pumped into the younger woman, and grew hot as she watched the ripples of her husband's back and rear muscles as they worked along his sinewy frame. She ran her hands up and down the expanse of his shoulders and then played with his tight bouncing balls, which made him quiver. He whimpered when she moved her hands to Astrid's clit, but her actions there caused the tunnel that encased him to convulse and grip him tightly. Astrid was moaning to beat all.

In the ultimate act of naughtiness, Olivia coated her fingers in the ample fluid between the two and proceeded to play with Peter's rear. She tickled the outer perimeter of his opening, and started to push a finger into him as he drove into Astrid. This made him tense, and he slowed his strokes; the rutting man growled a firm, "Olivia."

"What?" She asked innocently as if finger-fucking her husband's ass while he was busy screwing another woman was a normal occurrence. She proceeded to slide a couple of her fingers in and out of him, which caressed his prostate with each stroke.

"Fuck, Liv, please stop," Peter begged with ragged breath as he shivered and Astrid bucked hard against him.

"What? You don't like losing control?" his wife teased.

"Not… fair…" he managed to get out. "You know how to derail me, every time."

She did as he asked, but it was already too much for him. After only a couple more hard thrusts, Peter groaned profusely as he pulled out of Astrid and forcefully deposited his burning and voluminous seed onto her lower back; with firm strokes and eyes closed, he gasped for air as he were drowning. Astrid loved feeling the spurts of his thick, fiery fluid on her body, and he just… kept… coming. When he was finally through, Olivia lapped up every sticky particle from Astrid. The head of her husband's cock and its slit glistened from the viscous flow, and she captured the stray drops with her tongue and proceeded to clean him up entirely, as she made note of the mixed tastes from him and Astrid both.

Worn out, and a little shocked at his wife's actions, Peter staggered up to his feet and found that he really needed to pee. He walked out of the room stark naked, not caring as he made his way to the lab's bathroom. When he came back, he found Olivia and Astrid kissing and caressing each other. He plopped himself into an old chair and curiously watched the two women. He'd never thought in a million years he'd be watching Olivia and Astrid go at it.