Title: Immortal Beloved: Consequences
Author: Soleil Compeau
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Rating: NC17 for sex, violence, and death
Disclaimer: Jack Sparrow and other POTC characters are not mine to use for profit in any way whatsoever. I do this out of love, and for entertainment purposes only. Sarah Margita is my exclusive creation, and no one but I have rights to her.
Summary: Jack lived a life of adventure and peril, until his death. Then he was resurrected, and had a chance at a different sort of life, one no less exciting.
Author's Notes: Please remember that in this time period, the average life span was something like fifty years. You were considered quite long lived in your sixties. Also, disease was rampant, with common illnesses being cancer, severe influenza, consumption, malaria, smallpox, and syphillis. A lot of women also died in childbirth. Jack and Sarah are remarkably healthy people, particularly for pirates.
Chapter One - Leaving the Nest
"Mother, will you walk with me for awhile?" Teague smiled a full toothed smile at her and offered his arm in the same courtly manner his father did.
With a smile of contentment, Sarah put her hand in the crook of Teague's elbow and allowed him to lead her along the docks. The smell of salt and fish filled the air, and the gulls called their unceasing selfish cry. They strolled along slowly, in companionable silence, until nearing the cluster of ships at dock.
Sarah traced her fingers over the knuckles of his hand, contemplating that what was once clasped so trustingly in her own hand could now engulf it. He brought them to a halt and spoke. "Spoke to father." His voice was pitched low so no one who might be passing near could hear. Jack and Teague preferred the illusion of being half siblings when in unfamiliar territory and Jack could be quite paranoid when it came to the Cove's citizens.
"I'll be sailing soon, as captain of my own vessel!" Her son sounded so puffed up with pride and joy, Sarah glanced up at his face before casting a look at the ship he'd stopped in front of. "Captain John Teague, in partnership with Captain Jack Sparrow."
She stayed silent a moment, merely studying him. So tall he loomed over her now, just a hair taller even than his father when he stood straight. Had it been so long since he'd been the one looking up at her, asking to go pirate with his father? Now he was truly a man, one who had earned full Master's status as a woodworker, and still the sea called to his blood and drew him to her bosom.
Sarah glanced once more at the frigate. Teague followed her glance and misinterpreted the cause of her silence. "I know....she's really your ship. You captured her, I was locked in the brig of Captain Villanueva's vessel. Which is why I want your blessing to take her, mother. I...I love her, she's exactly the ship for me."
So much like Jack, she thought wryly, once again studying the planes of his face; high cheekbones, deep brown eyes, clean shaven chin. Teague wore his hair shorter than Jack's, with no locks but many braids. The shinbone stirred in the slight breeze. He was looking adoringly at the Damnation with a look Sarah recognized well. One Jack wore every time he took to the seas again after shore leave with her.
"Of course you've my blessing, little bird," she said steadily. She hid the stab of loss and dismay beneath a bright smile. "And if you're partnering with Captain Sparrow, why then it's not quite a goodbye is it? The separation is easier to bear, it'll be...gradual."
She cupped her son's chin lovingly a moment, then tore her eyes from him so he would not see her tears. Dutifully
she gazed at the ship which had clipped her little bird's wings. Sarah was being maudlin, but she couldn't seem to help it. Instead of the clean lines of the vessel, she saw all the times she'd watched the Pearl grow majestically smaller in the distance. Remembered the months of missing Jack, wondering if he would return THIS time, or if he would choose another woman in another port, or be captured and killed, or simply choose the open sea.
How difficult it was, to be cheerful and smile for him when he left. The nights she spend sleepless, or the times when her coin was low. When those around her muttered unkindly about her children's parentage or her husband's absence or her own gypsy blood and unladylike ways. Teague seemed to sense her sour mood somehow and drew her head to his shoulder, gently stroking an errant curl from her forehead. "I'll take you with me. When you're not on father's ship, you can sail on mine. Aloft, where you can fly, mother."
"Of course. Always." Sarah rested contentedly against his shoulder, a surge of pride that this child was HERS also and not just a repeat of Jack Sparrow, the genes of his free spirit thrust upon her womb to repeat. Little signs and occurences as he grew up signalled that he would follow after Jack and turn pirate. Not only did it happen, but teague proved himself gypsy as well. A restless wanderer with strong loyal ties to his family and the responsibility to care for them.
Elsewhere, say a third of the way around the docks where far fewer ships were anchored, Jack Sparrow and a young woman sat and contemplated the sunshine on the water. One hand clutched a bottle of rum, the other draped casually around her shoulders. She was wearing a cast off pair of his breeches, as her legs were getting quite long, and a gypsy blouse of Sarah's. The cropped hair that curled at the base of her neck made her look boyish, until one saw the swanlike neck and delicate features, the large vividly dark eyes.
A restless shift of position caused the coin dangling by her ear to swing and gently strike the older man's cheek. A glance at her, bathed as she was in light, and he was suddenly struck by the dreaminess in her expression. The sunlight caused a bluish gleam on her black hair and cast rosy apples on her olive skin. He'd found her absolutely beautiful since he first laid eyes on her, but suddenly it took on an urgency. Mary had grown into a very beautiful young woman.
Suddenly, every buccaneer who walked by casually was a threat, a cock aimed to attack his precious lamb. Glaring angrily at a poor young man who just happened to have been sent on an errand that way by his captain, Jack tightened his arm around Mary. The hapless lad scuttled away.
"What do you see when you look to the horizon, my lamb?" he asked, waving the rum bottle vaguely at the glowing blue curve.
Her breath caught thoughtfully as she cocked her head, Sparrow-esque, and contemplated her answer. "Firstly, I feel. The caress of salty air. Then I hear. The deep pounding below the surface...Calypso's heartbeat."
She swayed closer to the edge of the pier and Jack, entranced, passed his fifteen year old girl the rum bottle. She drank absently, making a face at the burn then looking pleased at it's warmth in her belly. "And I see, just there," her hand extended with her fingers curved as if cupping something precious, "a ship. Barely visible through the spyglass. Sails billowing. And I ask myself, 'Is she faster than the Pearl? Is she bigger? What does she hold?' I want to know."
The first time he ever took her aloft, Sarah had remained on deck, pointedly turning her face out to sea so as not to observe what was happening. She did trust him with their daughter, she'd muttered, but it was too frightening to watch. Best to keep that trust blind rather than see his movements, imagine in her mind's eye the missteps that could occur. Safely unknowing, Sarah hummed as she watched the sun play on the tranquil surface of the sea.
It was Jack who experienced terror. Jack who held his little girl's trusting body in the crook of his elbow as he climbed one handed, felt her squirm joyfully and lean out, too far. Jack who prayed for balance and strength as she waved her arms in imitation of flight and jumped up and down when her little feet were placed on the wood of the lookout. For one terrifying moment she was utterly airborne and without support of any kind, and he cursed and grabbed her to hug her close. So close she was nearly squeezed breathless.
Two days later they prepared to set forth. The Code Keeper oversaw the provisioning of both the Black Pearl and the Poseidon's Damnation. When he swaggered onto the docks and made the offer of assistance to 'Captain Sparrow,' his son merely eyed him suspiciously for a moment. Then astonished Captain Teague and moved him to absolute speechlessness by suddenly grinning, clapping him on the shoulder, and saying, "Thank you Father, I'd be much obliged. I know my ship'll be in good hands."
Bemused, Teague simply stood there, feeling the warmth of Jack's hand on his arm. A fierce and loving brightness rose in his throat, reminiscent of the first time he'd ever seen this child. Soaked to the skin, exhausted, damaged ship limping to port after a terifying typhoon and his woman unconscious and possibly bleeding out; nonetheless fear narrowed down and turned into a pulsing joy as the tiny squirming thing was laid in his embrace.
Maybe he'd not failed as utterly as he supposed with this favored boy.
"I'll just say my goodbyes to the place, then. One last toast and revelry. I happen to know your namesake is finding it difficult to tear himself from the sweetness of the wenches." He grinned and swept off in a whirl, just like the winds on the day he was born.
Jack went himself to the upper levels of Shipwreck Cove where he knew Sarah to be saying a last goodbye to the women. Rather, the pirate wives and such she was friendly with as opposed to the young unattached harlots. His feet slowed when he got closer. Few were the times he'd been in this place, already a tall young man when Teague had brought himself and his mother here from New France, the gardens had held no interest for him. The deeper levels were where he spent his time, and the decks of ships, and the topmost spires.
Sunlight filtered in the many portholes and gaps. Well tended patches of riotous flowers, climbing vines of beans, and various grasses he couldn't even guess at made a pretty maze his feet trod reluctantly. Ahead, he heard the murmur of feminine voices. Just there, where a tilting deck was strung with laundry lines and a smell wafting told him linen was drying.
"Oh aye, try it, it's well worth the effort. Careful of getting too eager for it though, it'll make you right sore if you indulge too often."
"It doesn't hurt? Even with something so big?" That was Sarah.
Ribald laughter followed this mystifying question. "Gods no, though it being Jack, he's got to go real slow till you're used to him back there. Cause he's DEFINITELY a big one. All the better to hit that sweet spot don'tcha know!" Good Lord, himself was the subject of the conversation! Jack Sparrow feared for his safety, yet curiosity drew him forward.
He made no secret of his approach, did not try even a little to be quiet, yet the knot of women still jumped when he stepped around a flowering bush and cleared his throat. They were bent over a table spread out with dried plants of all assortments, and one was busily stuffing them in pouches marked with different colored thread.
"Gods, Jack Sparrow, don't you know better than to sneak up on us like tha!" scolded Nicoletta, a favorite lover of his in pasttimes and still slender, blue eyes still snapping and hair so red it seemed aflame.
She made as if to swat him and he danced back a step, smiling as charmingly as possible. "My pardon, beautiful ladies."
"The menfold don't come here Jackie, and for good reason." Sarah was merely looking at him silently, soft eyed, and smiling as another woman crossed her arms and glared at the intruding male. "Think you'll learn our secrets? Crow to all your grimy lads how you fell into a harem of soft giggling girlflesh?"
What an interesting comment. "What an interesting suggestion," he said. "Is that the sort of thing goes on here? And if so, why not allow menfo-" his speech was cut off by a freshly laundered towel smacking him in the face and draping partially over his head.
Dragging it off, he was met with stony eyes on all faces. Except one. Eyes on her gentle smile, Jack surrendered utterly. "No intrusion meant, luvs. I simply came to fetch something I need." And he held out his hand to her, adding more softly, "We're ready to make sail, darling."
Sarah took his hand and there were murmured "awww''s" and contented sounding giggles as he swayed sinuously closer. Jack curved his arm around her shoulders and smiled softly down at her head as she tucked it demurely 'neath his chin for a moment. The other women cawed and there was much elbowing and jostling as the couple were almost magnetically drawn closer to each other. Jack offered his arm to her, and suddenly realized his manly reputaion was in tatters.
Escorting her away, he attempted a ravishing leer and reached to tweak Nicoletta's nipple. She twitched in surprise, and Sarah smartly slapped his hand. Chastened, Jack ducked his head to hide his rueful smile and led his wife away more quickly.
Chapter Two - Moving On
The Pearl and the Damnation surged through the waters together. Initially, it was Captain Sparrow who chose their targets, easy pickings, training ground for his son to find his feet and learn captaining slowly and easily. He fretted to himself that perhaps he was coddling the boy too much. Perhaps his overprotectiveness was chafing Teague, making him resentful of a father who didn't think him capable?
Jack's thought turned often to his own father. He'd often thought the elder Teague heartless and cruel but now he saw clearly how life lessons had been learned under that stern and seemingly uncaring regard. Jack struggled to let go of his son and let him 'hoist his colors' as a grown man and not a wayward pup needing correction. It was far harder than he'd ever imagined.
Jackie in particular seemed sensitive to this and tried to distract her Captain. More accomplished in the art of dance than her far wilder sister, Jackie delighted in dressing up in gypsy gowns and skipping her feet happily about the deck in the evenings when the musicians played. Well aware of her burdgening beauty, Jack prowled right behind her, glaring death at every crewmate and occasionally even grabbing her arm to stop her movements.
Ofttimes when he did so, he would bring her to the helm with him, and she would sing. At twelve her voice was a pure strong soprano. For some reason Jackie could not fathom, he always snickered when she first began to sing, but he assured her many times it was not her he was laughing about. Instead, he claimed it was an old memory about a man with a lovely singing voice.
Mary gave him trouble as well. Preferring now to be called by the Spanish form of her name, Maria, she often tried to sneak aboard the other ship. Not prone to dresses at all, Maria often was found aloft. Light and slim, she did excellently in the rigging. And while Jack deep down realized the crew that had sailed with him all these years wouldn't dream of harming either of his precious lambs, he had no such assurances about Captain's Teague's crew, handpicked by himself and the Code Keeper though they might be.
Often he had to lie in wait for Maria on the deck when they anchored for the night, to snatch her down from a line, ready to swing herself to the frigate's deck. Threatens either to have her lashed or thrown in the brig on bread and water made her eyes flash rebelliously, and he was wise enough to know soon she would call his bluff. Between his concerns over his grown son and his precocious daughters, Jack was a mass of tension.
"Women aboard ship...see now why Gibss calls it bad luck," he muttered angrily one night as he kicked off his boots to gain some well deserved rest. Jackie and Maria were bedded down at last in the outer room of the great cabin, himself and Sarah were cocooned in the alcove of the bedroom. "'M not a pirate at all, I'm a broody hen chasing after her chicks." He scrubbed his face wearily.
She didn't remind him that he was a privateer, not a pirate. Jack Sparrow knew full and well what he was. Sarah knelt behind him and rubbed his shoulders. Tension knotted him hard, she dug her fingers in deep, wringing a groan from him. He rolled his head on his shoulders and tried to relax. Sarah's hands stroked and kneaded at the muscles of his neck and back. Jack sighed and felt the worry beginning to melt from him slowly. In strong circular motions she moved down his back and rubbed over his sides.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head between his shoulderblades. Their lovemaking was slow and sweet, both of them drifted off nearly before it was complete. They made harbor in Cadiz to discover Ifrit had not been exercised in weeks, Esther was coughing in bed, and Joshua and Becky were pale faced.
Bending over the prone form of her friend, Sarah was horrified to see how bleary and unfocused her eyes were, and how her bones protruded despite the bulk of the babe, mere weeks from emerging. A quick examination showed the child was underweight. "Send for the doctor, there's a dear," she said to Maria, but Joshua shook his head.
Drawing her aside, he explained in broken sentences. The doctor had seen her already. Esther was suffering from consumption. There was a chance it would kill her before ever she could give birth, but if not she certainly wouldn't have the strength to be able to deliver it. He could ease her pain, but it would affect her sense and her ability to last until the child would be ready.
Sarah devoted herself to her friend's bedside, barely leaving it even to eat or sleep. All other concerns were left completely neglected as she tried to nurse Esther through the last few weeks of her life and save her baby. Fortunately, the girls were well able to cook, so Joshua and Jack both were able to eat. Teague spent his nights on his ship, hardly able to bear the sorrow of the house. Sometimes Jack would drag the girls to Joshamee and Lucia's house for the evening meal, just to get out. Joshua was like a ghost.
One evening Jack brought her a tray of cheese and fruit, tea and biscuits, in the hope of distracting her and having a bit of conversation. While he brushed her tangled hair back from her pale face with his fingers, Sarah murmured of how Esther and she had become friends. Her father was butler in the grandee's villa where Sarah was raised, it was natural they should play together. And later, for Esther to play maid when she was sent to Tomas Island with her aunt and uncle.
Suddenly, a coughing fit shook the woman's whole body, her bulging stomach strained and turned hard. Sarah started up so quickly her tea fell unheeded to the floor. "Her time's on her Jack. Get out, I've work to do here!" she exclaimed tersely.
Jack stared at the forlorn puddle of tea, made painstakingly just as sweet as she liked it, spread across the rug. Going out, he did his best to be cheerful for Joshua's sake. But the house did not hold the bustle and hopeful expectation normally accompanying a birth. Finally he grasped Joshua's arm. "Come on, let me take you to the Pearl. You can watch the stars while you wait for news. 'Tis not far. You'll have news in the time it takes one of the girls to run down to the docks."
The grey haired man shook his head stubbornly. As he opened his mouth to answer, a weak wavering cry came from the bedroom where Esther lay. The door swung open minutes later and Sarah emerged looking more exhausted than Jack had ever seen her. She went straight to Joshua and laid the tiny wrapped baby in his arms. "Your son," she said simply.
"Esther?" he breathed hopefully.
She merely shook her head, eyes averted.
"Did she see him? Did she see the baby before she died?" Joshua's voice was breaking as he gazed on the quiet face of the very small baby.
Sarah's hesitation was so minute only Jack caught it. "Of course. I held him up and she smiled before she closed her eyes and breathed her last."
She swallowed hard. "He'll need someone to suckle him. The doctor will know who might've lost a baby recently, a woman who still has milk. Jackie darling, be a dear and go ask him, will you?" Sarah hugged her daughter tightly for a moment, both of them shaking.
The youngest Sparrow looked somberly at the new child's face. She dropped a kiss to the small forehead and a hug to Joshua before slipping quietly out the door. Sarah stood indecisive for a few moments before suddenly turning and walking quickly outside as well, nearly running as she passed the threshold. Jack looked at the newly bereft father. Becky was cuddled up to his side now, somberly gazing at the little boy's face. Like any newborn, he yawned and waved his fists aimlessly. Jack felt useless, and sad. Teague was aboard his ship, having brought Maria for a visit. Jack was not needed here.
Sarah was in the barn, as he suspected she might be. Losing control quickly, sobs breaking loose as she slipped the bridle over her mare's head. Jack stook behind her and gently stroked his fingetips over her rigid back. At his silent comfort she told him the truth she'd denied her friend for pity's sake.
"She died unconscious, never saw her baby. Coughed so hard the child tore loose from her when he might have slipped out gracefully. As I cleaned his mother's blood from his face she choked and went still." She wept freely now. "My best friend, my companion. For years." Not bothering with a saddle, Sarah led Ifrit to the stable door and swung herself up, digging her heels in so the horse leapt forward in full gallop.
She guided the Arabian at a gallop to open fields. Crouched low over the proudly arching neck, wind whipping her thick hair back in streams, tears falling freely. She tossed her head back and whipped those tears up as an offering to the wind. Ifrit was free to gallop as she pleased, Sarah let go of the reins and her half wild horse took the bit between her teeth. The steady thrum of her hooves as she raced as fast as she liked was soothing.
Sarah grieved, welcoming the sting of the streaming mane lashing her face, the bite of her lungs as wind snatched her breath away. How many times now had she seen death? Her grandfather when she was barely a woman, her parents though she'd not seen their bodies. The men she'd battled at Jack's side. The detestable Beckett. Cotton. Esther. The women who slipped away while bringing forth life, as Esther had. Death was all around her. The stench of the grave filled her nostrils.
Jack was a hedonistic creature, and had brought forth that hidden trait in herself. Together, they reveled in the simple pleasures of life. What was there, beyond that? She questioned the Church's teaching that pleasures, such as sex and drink, had been made by Him as temptations to be resisted, to prove something to Him. So what truly lay beyond death? A judgement, a reckoning, surely. Happiness? The reward of Heaven?
He climbed up into his ship's sails, lean body questing higher until he could go no further. Tilting his head up at the twinkling heavens, he finally allowed his own sadness forth. Esther was a good woman. Quiet and proper, humble, but still with an impish twinkle in her eyes he'd noticed from the first. She was tolerant of his outlandishness, and many were the times he'd drawn a smile and a chuckle from her. She didn't deserve the death she'd been dealt.
Did anyone deserve what manner of ending what finally came for every man, woman, or child? Thoughts turned to the Locker. Had Jack deserved the manner of his death? Many thought so, and to himself he could admit he did. He'd dodged it, run from it, tried to trick it until at last there was no escape, then he'd manfully faced it down. Was anyone so different, as to try and outwit death? Jack stared up into the bare face of God, or the nearest equivalent, and drank until his arms were too tired to hold on anymore, then he went home.
She came to him deep in the night. He'd tried to stay awake for her, worrying about her state of mind, and in fact his eyes had just slipped closed when he heard her come in. She slipped beside him warm and naked, kissing his face frantically. Jack pulled her close, tightened his arms around her. Sarah burrowed beneath him, wanting to be covered and smothered in his strength. Gladly he gave her the comfort of joining with him. He needed it himself, needed to be reassured of her life and vibrancy.
Chapter Three - Sarah's Fantasy
The doctor did indeed know of a woman who'd lost a baby, very recently in fact. He brought her to the house when he came for Esther's poor broken body. Jane Wyatt was a plain woman with brown hair and large hazel eyes, plump from bearing three other children. She picked up the boy, Tobias James Whiting, and held him to her bosum with a look of melting tenderness.
Jane was a kind woman. She did not simply take Tobias and suckle him, she stayed in the house during the day so his father and much elder sister could enjoy him as well. And where Jane went, her three children went as well. A house with children in it cannot remain a sad one. Besides, the demands of a weak infant needing much care drove mourning from all their minds. Esther was not forgotten, by no means, but she was remembered and life began to go on.
With so much care, Tobias grew big and robust rather quickly. Sarah enjoyed holding him very much, and it was for her he gave his first smile. There is nothing so soothing as holding a fat contented baby who falls trustingly asleep on your shoulder. Jack enjoyed the baby as well, his own son was grown so tall and his daughters so independent, Toby reminded him of the new days of being married to Sarah. Relaxed and happy, Jack decided it was time to give Sarah something she'd wanted for a long time.
It wasn't something she pushed for, knowing how difficult it was for him to overcome his revulsion for restraints. Over time, he trusted her more and more deeply, to absolutely know she would never harm him. The issue was in him, to fight against any kind of control, to dread being held back. In many ways he submitted to her, feigned helplessness to arouse her, let himself be subdued by her passionate loving. It was good. And at those times she gently reminded him how dearly she'd like to tie him and do unspeakably wonderful things to him.
In truth, he wanted her to do it as well. But he didn't want to panic and fight her, before it got really good. As they had sailed from the Cove, Jack had plundered two bolts of fine Chinese silk, enough to make her a fine dress, and a little left over as well, cut into strips. For her birthday, he draped them on the bed in silent consent and invitation.
They began by undressing, a few paces away from each other to keep the view unhindered. Sarah's breath came faster and faster as each clothing item came off his body. She anticipated what she would do to him. They joined on the bed, Jack carefully ignoring the silk scarves. She needed to let him know it was perfectly safe to let her do this. So she kissed him, holding his face in her hands, thumbs caressing his beautiful cheekbones. His mouth went soft and loose beneath hers, his tongue making small light forays into her mouth.
Their hands could not help touching, tantalizing. Jack buried his hands in her loose hair and bunched it in his knuckles. His kiss turned anxious and hungry. Sarah trailed her fingers along his neck, causing very soft exclamations from him. "Gonna tie your ankles now, Jack," she murmured against his lips.
Worry immediately creased his brow even as he obligingly stuck out his legs. His feet were long and graceful like his hands, pampered with soft, smooth skin. He had high arches and long toes. Sarah pushed his thighs open and firmly secured each bare trusting ankle to the posts of the bed. Glancing up, she noted how he leaned back on his hands, watching her every move while biting his lip. His cock was soft and nestled in the thick black hair at his crotch, no sign of arousal yet.
She gently stroked his insteps and moved up to straddle his shins. Bending down, she kissed his knees, feeling him flinch in ticklish reaction. Sarah's hands crept up and caressed the firm muscles of his thighs. She squeezed in appreciation, then moved up to straddle his upper legs. Jack reached for her immediately and ran his hands up and down her back. She had to get him tied, quickly. A large part of this fantasy was her desire to lick every inch of him. In the past, she'd managed to achieve parts of this goal, but his hands and mouth and cock always distracted her wildly before she could finish.
She pushed back his thick hair and leaned close to kiss his ear; taking the lobe in her teeth and flicking it, then suckling it. Ran her tongue over the edge, up and down, and felt him quiver and melt beneath her. The other ear got the same treatment, and he was moaning. Then moved down to his shoulders and collarbones. Her fingers on his nipples caused those choked cries that signalled intense enjoyment. A light sheen of sweat was appearing on his skin, she licked his chest to taste it. It was so good she continued to lap at his body, tasting and licking him.
She traveled all over his torso with the flat of her tongue. Tightened stomache muscles and a tug on her hair woke her from her lust induced stupor. Jack was gasping, eyes bright and shining, hands trembling. "You're killing me! God Sarah, that feels so good!"
He reached for her breasts, and she pressed against his chest and toppled him backwards until he lay flat. Sarah loved Jack's hands on her body and just now he cupped her full breasts and kneaded them gently, sweeping his thumbs over her hard nipples so that she shuddered and mewled. A smirk twisted his lips. "Ahhh. Love that sound you make."
With an effort she pulled away one hand and grabbed another silk tie. Knotted it quickly around his wrist and pulled his arm outward. Jack resisted and quietly said, "No."
Her heart sank, was he really going to call it off? "Want to touch you!" he whined.
"You agreed...to do this...my fantasy bir...birthday." It was difficult to speak when her body was burning and throbbing with want.
"So I did," he agreed quietly, allowing her to stretch his arm upwards and tie it.
Coming back down, she grabbed his free hand and took a finger into her mouth. Jack watched with heavy lidded eyes as she fully tongued the digit and the web of skin at the bottom. Sarah did this to each finger, then traced the tip of her tongue over his palm. Jack panted harshly as she moved from his hand to the inside of his wrist, up to the inside of his elbow and then to his shoulder. Gently she bound this hand also, then sat back and looked him over slowly.
Her husband was golden all over, sleekly muscled, and wore his grace and rough scars and storied tattoos easily. The swagger most took for extreme arrogance, or drunkenness, was merely the confidence of a man who'd finally learned his exact place in the world. She never got tired of looking at him, at touching and making love with him, or even simply cuddling and snuggling with him. Jack was warm and silky and powerful, and just now, spreadeagled and helpless for her delectation. Yet, though there was no denying his aroused state, he was not enjoying himself.
Sarah draped herself fully on top of him, rubbing herself against him and offering the comfort of physical closeness. Her toes rubbed over his shins, and she absently stroked his arms. She buried her nose in his armpit and inhaled the musky scent of him which was getting stronger now. Soft hair tickled her nose and she raised her head. They kissed sweetly and lovingly, then Jack shoved his tongue deep in her mouth, raising his head to go aggressively after her. She'd tied him with enough slack for him to be able to move a bit, he raised his hips and rubbed his cock against her thigh insistently.
"Got me all tied down Sarah, I can't stop you," he purred. "What acts are you planning to perpetuate on me helpless body, eh?" He drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked it. "Tell me..."
She moaned greedily and struggled up a few inches. Taking hold of her own breasts, she shoved them into his face. "Suck them Jack. Lick them. Once I'm satisfied with that, I'm gonna dance on you, while you can't move at all, can only feel what I do, and enjoy it."
Jack quite happily obliged, opening his full lips and taking in what she offered. He employed wicked curls of his tongue as she offered him first one nipple, then the other, over and over. Sarah moaned and rubbed her body against his, feeling his rampant cock throb where it was trapped against her belly. Her pussy contracted in slick waves of desire, slow pulses as he suckled her breasts and rubbed sensually against her. Wanting more, so much more, she reluctantly pulled away.
His lips were full and pouty, eyes hazy and even darker than normal. He was a treasure chest brimming with temptation. Sarah backed up and swiveled around until she faced away from him, and slowly wiggled backwards. Jack's eyes were fixed on her dripping opening as her bottom and thighs came enticingly closer. He breathed heavily and licked his lips in anticipation. Then felt her breath on his cock.
Sarah grinned wickedly as she softly moved her mouth over his rigid erection. It pulsed upwards towards her lips, head dusky and leaking fluid at a steady rate. She deliberately kept her hind end tipped upwards so Jack could see everything but not touch at all. And indulged her desire to lick his skin, right along the extended underside of his cock, trailing hot strokes from his tip to his sac.
"Ohhhh, oh shit, yeahhhhh!" His body tensed and he raised his hips eagerly. She took the head and ran it shallowly around her lips, mouthing it. Jack stared at the swollen folds so close to his mouth, but no matter how high he raised his head, she was out of reach. "Let me taste you luv, let me kiss you right there inside...my tongue plunging. Just lower your hips a bit." Just when he didn't think he'd be able to bear any more slow foreplay without begging, Sarah lowered her body to grant him access to her ready quim.
Jack drove his tongue up into her, wishing his hands were free. He struggled a bit against the smooth bindings, fingers waggling uselessly. He loved to cup her bottom and hold her hips tight when he used his mouth on her this way. Despite that, he gave his best attention to the sweet smelling petals opening to his tongue. Jack lapped eagerly, including stiffening his tongue and applying little strokes along her clitoris as well as broad, slathering swipes along her fat shiny lips.
Sarah whimpered, tried to focus on bobbing her head smoothly up and down the excited organ beneath her face. Jack was harder than usual, the skin so taut it barely moved along his blood filled tissues. She made her lips as tight as she could and just moaned, filling her mouth and throat with him. Dear Lord, he was growling so hungrily against her highly sensitive pussy! It was overwhelming, particularly when he trapped her clitoris between his full lips and moved his tongue just so along the side, with such perfect friction. Sarah held him deeply in her mouth and made low throaty cries as the unbearable tension tightened, tightened, squeezed hard and vicious with low stabs deep in her belly, then resolved in intense waves of satisfaction.
Jack moaned as Sarah orgasmed on his face, quim tightening and spasming with wetness he swallowed eagerly. The syrupy musk was always something he'd enjoyed since his very first taste as a young man. His body ached with the need for release. So excited he could easily have released when she came, but he sensed there was more in store for him. Like himself for her, Sarah delighted in drawing out his body's responses and making it as intense as possible.
Sure enough, as soon as her bliss contractions eased, she crawled forward on his body and straddled his hips. Jack raised his head, licking his lips to get every last bit of her taste to savor again. He saw her smooth back and fine, tumbling hair, saw her spread thighs. Then he felt himself grabbed and guided inside the warmth he'd just been tasting. Jack cried out as Sarah slipped that wonderful wet muscular grip all around him. "Unhhhhh...!!!"
She took her time sliding down, until her bottom pressed against his groin and he was fully seated inside her. Took a deep quivering breath at how damn good it was to join with him. "Jack...you feel so good. Love your big thick cock up inside me....fills me up so good!" She rolled her hips as she spoke.
And proceeded to dance on him, as she said she would do. She danced up and down, and in circles, back and forth jerks. Jack moved beneath her, as hard as he could, and made noises of extreme bliss. He was really fighting the silk now with his need to grab her and possess her more. She wasn't moving nearly fast enough.
"Sarah!" he cried out. The signal she wanted, it seemed, for she immediately began to ride him very hard. Still slowly though, which drove him mad with need. "Fuck.....more, luv, more....it feels so good to come...I want to...god Sarah!"
She brought herself up, slick and tight, then slammed down hard on him. She felt it building again, like surf on a beach drawing backwards, gathering into itself, only to fling forward and crash magnificently on the sand. Jack felt her hands steadying herself on his thighs. Then felt her reach her heights again and again in powerful contracting waves rippling along his cock. "Yes, oh god yes!" she moved faster over him.
He was going to come, that was certain, but she wanted to give him the most mind blowing experience possible. If she did, perhaps he'd let her tie him again in future. Finding the little bottle of oil she'd hidden in the bedsheets earlier, Sarah coated a finger and reached down past his tightly coiled balls. Rubbed her finger firmly along his nether opening, causing Jack to hiss and grunt.
As Sarah eased her finger up into Jack's tight ass, she bounced her hips in shallow quick movements. Expertly she found the little bump within and rubbed slow circles over it. The pleasure for him was so intense he wasn't even able to make noise. Every muscle was rigid, his head tossed back, and Sarah wished she could see his face contorted in his ecstasy. Within seconds, he came in bursts of lightning and heat and heaving muscles and loud cries.
She dragged herself off of him and turned around to face him. Glistening with sweat and chest heaving, arms still pulled above his head. "My God," she muttered in a shaky voice. Her entire body felt rubbery from the force of her climaxes. "That was so fantastic!" She tenderly touched his chest, he twitched, highly sensitive after the sex.
Jack licked his lips, still panting harshly. "Ye-hes," he managed. "Let me go."
She reached up and freed his hands, massaging his shoulders and arms to relieve any strain from the powerful muscle contractions he's experienced during their encounter. Groaning happily, he snaked them around her and snuggled her close, until he tried to roll over and recalled his feet were still tied. Gently he pushed her aside and sat up to take care of it himself. Then laid his head on her chest and fell asleep warm and safe.