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 Sixteen - Family Times
"Ahhh right there......oh yes..." Jack's eyes rolled back in pleasure. "Now down a little more....oooohh." He gripped the sheets in his fists and wiggled joyfully. Sarah sat astride his hips and enthusiastically scratched his back.
"Oh that feels so good!" He continued to praise her as she raked her nails over his shoulderblades repeatedly. Slowly, her scratching was gentled into rubbing, particularly along the small of his back. Jack sighed and purred and generally made sounds of enjoyment that made her smile with love for him. Afterward, she settled herself along his back, laying her head on his warm skin just between the two sea turtles.
"Jack...what will you do?"
Jack was quiet a moment, and Sarah enjoyed the muscles of his body flexing as he raised his arms to pillow his chin on his forearms. "Well....first duty is to offload the last batch of tithe to the Crown and organize the rest into selling, or for your illegal little ship for trade, if you take a fancy to any of it. And of course, settle the men. Some of them have families here, as I do. Some may eventually have families here. And a fair amount, I suppose, will sign onto new ships and sail away again." She detected the slightest bit of jealousy in his voice, though he seemed unaware of it.
"Then I'll need to meet with Wharfmaster Hawking about lifting me beautiful Pearl into the draving dock. I suppose a bit of work'll need to be done to her keel. Scrape her barnacles and whatnot. A new paint job wouldn't be amiss. And then I suppose I shall do whatever I like."
"The graving dock. And how long will the Black Pearl remain in drydock, Captain?" Deliberately she called him by his title. Jack stiffened and rolled, getting up once her weight was off him.
"That's a matter for meself and Master Hawking, luv. An arrangement as to the finances of long term storage," he answered in a haughty voice.
"You're bloody going to do this, then?" Sarah's voice began to be raised in amazement and irritation. The stupid man actually believed himself capable of giving up the sea! When he cast her a stern glance at her tone, she tried to reason sweetly with him. "Jack...you heard Lord Escamilla. The Navy and Company are held in check. We're perfectly safe, safer than we used to be when the children were small and we all sailed together!"
He looked down his nose at her. "And who took care of you all those times? The Spanish Sovereign? That dried up old prune, Salvie? No..it was I! And I'll continue to do so, in me own fashion, if it's all the same to you, Sarah!"
"You're captain of a ship. Are you prepared to give that up? More, a privateer of the Crown of Spain!"
"A retired privateer, don't forget. Not only that, but a husband! A father! Though two of my offspring are gone to sea, they'll return. And find me home, what they'd should've experienced more as younglings! Now stow it. Right now." Jack was on his feet, looking forbidding. "The decision is made."
Angry now, Sarah fixed him with her own forbidding look. "You were born of the sea, Jack. On a ship. It's in your blood." Moving close, daringly, she reached out and swept her fingers over the tattoo on his chest. "Sans Pays. No country but the sea, no kingdom but a swaying deck."
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "It's more than this recent danger, my sweet bit o'fire. 'M getting older. Gonna see sixty soon. This new charming coiffure of mine shows the grey more easily. Slower to move, stiff in the mornings of late." Off the sudden wicked gleam in her eyes he hastily amended, "In my hands and hips, me legs. Lord! Insatiable hoyden, you are!"
Somberly she answered him. "It's no matter Jack Sparrow. The sea is your true mistress, she's laid her claim to you. And she'll not give you up easily."
Her words shook him more than he cared to show, for the sea now meant Calypso, and a more capricious deity could never be found. "Then I shall run further inland, and hope the sea is less tenacious than the Kraken!" he retorted. "From which I escaped, you'll remember. Or technically, was rescued. After that, how difficult will it be to be a gentleman of leisure?"
"Mama, the post is here!" Jacqueline pranced through into the sitting room and handed some letters, and a brown parcel with exotic stamps, to her mother.
"It's from your sister!" Sarah cried, recognizing the looping scrawl. "Run and get your father, he'll want to see this."
When Jack came into the room, she'd sorted through the letters and found an envelope with a heavy texture. Opening it, she removed two slips of fine paper. The top one was dated a month ago, and held the precise handwriting of their son, John Teague.
I found her. She says she's wildly happy and wants to stay out
at sea for some time. The ship she's serving on is called The
Rogue, and she seems to be well treated. Currently serving as
deckhand, though the Cap'n knows her value aloft, and also as
lookout man. I'll keep looking after her. Want me to drag her
home? Write back at Tortgua, The Frog's Rest Inn.
The second letter was clearly Maria's, not only by her breezy style of forming letters but her directness and succintness of expression.
We took a Spanish galleon and I found this in the effects. As
soon as I saw it I knew Mother would love it. I'm well and
happy, enjoying myself and learning a lot. Papa taught me
such a lot, my captain realizes my value to his crew. Please
don't say Teague must bring me home. Father is too staid.
Love to you, Maria Sparrow
"Too staid!" Jack exclaimed, frowning thunderously. Sarah turned to the parcel and ripped it open. A beautiful cream colored shawl fell into her lap, bringing with it the scent of vanilla. Indeed, a few of the fragrant beans even were hidden among the folds. Shaking it out, she admired the exquisite and carefully knit design on the thick shawl. It was almost a work of art, yet useful too, for cool days. Sarah rubbed it briefly against her cheek, and smiled at thought of the daughter who'd remembered her when finding the treasure.
"Raiding Spanish ships," Jack went on, scowling slightly less as he read his eye's apple's words again. "Not sure I like that. Then again, pirate. Mmm, both her and Teague say she's valuable to the crew, s'pose that means she'll be well looked after."
Sarah pointed out that it likely didn't matter what they thought of Maria's career choices. If they asked Teague to bring her home, she would only run away again. Maybe it would be best to lure her with letters about home, though perhaps letters about quiet doings in Cadiz could not compare to the wild expanse of the ocean? Sarah cast a sly glance at Jack with that last comment. He ignored it.
Maybe it would turn out fine, and she was just borrowing trouble. After all, Jack had stayed with her for long periods of time before. Most notably when Jackie was born, and he'd seemed perfectly content. Of course, he never fully gave up his nautical speech; referring to the different levels of their home as topside and below, stairs as ladders, widdershins instead of counterclockwise, galley instead of kitchen. As well, during that time he'd been map making and seemed to be quite content in it. Well, only time and tide would bring them the treasure of knowledge. Sarah would not object to a good long stay ashore. Nor would she object to Jack wanting to seek that horizon again. After all, she'd vowed to always accompany him where he pointed the rudder!
She was chained first by love, but forgot one day, one set appointment. A goddess does not keep track of days. What are days but mere moments when you are ordering pods of whales, casting currents, shimmering in rainbows sprays of mist? Davy's face was always vivid in her mind, but those she saw most often were of tribes revering with worship, fear tinged awe. But love for the man, for the great sailor who dared embrace the wildness of the sea itself, held her willingly...until it became bitter. Then she was chained by the irony of forgetting a day, into numbering each weary one. Set free again, she found herself chained by loneliness.
When the child came, she found completeness for the first time. Softened by the most perfect love she'd ever known, she showed continued grace to three men; the man who freed her, the man who took the duty of Charron, and the capricious favorite who made her feel good during her captivity. Rejoicing both in her newly returned powers and in sharing the great expanses of her kingdom with someone, Calypso was content for a long long while.
When she found herself for the first time in the role of disciplinarion, it amused her greatly. Should a blessed being that emerged from her own divine loins be constrained in any way? But to keep her darling safe from folly until she attained wisdom of her own, Calypso would do anything. And in the doing, discovered that the blood that made her so winsomely human also imparted her a certain strength of character. It was purest irony that the same reason a man gave Joie to her at all also kept him from having a larger hand in raising her.
Yet Joie continued to see her father even after being denied the mate who matched her temperament completely. And was given, to teach her that which Calyspo was not inclined to, a guide who was opportunistic, grasping, self-centered, and a greedy lying rogue. Everything the wild hearted sea goddess embodied, in some ways.
Between the now lighthearted mother and the heroic blood in her veins, Joie was largely a benevolent god. Her mentor taught her to bargain ruthlessly, plot with great patience and cunning, and above all to attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. Thus armed with such sage advice and upbringing, Joie embarked on adult life.
"That one," she murmured to the older form shimmering beside her, indicating the sleek cutter.
"It's heavily laden," was the murmured response. "They will be anxious to get such pretty cargo home safely, yes?"
"Oh yes. And the men are young, not yet hardened to the cruelty of life." Joie's eyes narrowed in pleasurable anticipation. "One will surely suit my needs."
The weary crew, well satisfied after a successful voyage with excitement and little ill luck, were quick to notice the mermaids. For one, such sightings were amazing in and of themselves, but also because the creatures were making every effort to be seen and noticed. They stood on their tails, tossed their streaming hair and proudly arched as sailors lined the deck to gawk, so that the ship began to list under their weight.
Joie and Calypso swam towards them, transformed to full human shape, and climmbed the jacob's ladder to board. Calypso's smile was beautific. "There now...such worthy young men...to be presented with the bare face of the goddess you adore." She waved a gracious hand. "You may continue the adoration whenever you please."
Almost to a man, the sailors dropped to their knees. In awe, or fear, or a fierce desire to protect their lives and just possibly their sanity; the goddesses felt all these emotions and savored it, for it was the form true worship takes.
"You, pirate," Joie commanded of a certain young man. "Come here. You are indeed blessed this day."
Barbossa lay stretched out on sun-baked, black sand, trying to convince himself that he was relaxing in indolent, self serving luxury. But it felt uncomfortably like being left behind. With time on his hands now that his charge was winging, or was it swimming, away into her maturity, Barbossa's thoughts turned to analyzing his past. It was a rare indulgence indeed; Hector preferred to look forward and suffer no regrets. Ahh, but there was one, wasn't there? There always was.
A wave lapped over his feet, startling him excessively since he was significantly above the high tide line. But the water on his toes turned into a laughing young lady who stood athwart his legs with her hand on her hips and a cocky smile on her lips. "Good evening, my pet." He said politely, noting she was shading him from the rays of the setting sun. "Was your venture as wildly successful as you hoped?"
She cocked her head slightly. "Yes...and yet no, as well." Joie stretched luxuriously while Hector got to his feet. "I feel happy and satisfied right now, but it will soon fade and I will want another."
"And when will you be complete?" Barbossa realized he was asking himself the same question, and wondered if Joie would notice as well. She did.
Her deep brown eyes regarded him with concern. Long past were the days when he was remotely capable of giving a spanking to this creature. Yet his will still matched hers, one of the very few beings on earth who could claim so. Answering his question, she said thoughtfully, "When I find the one who can stay with me 'neath the sparkling seas, a'course! And yourself, my teacher?" A smile as she called him by the title she'd first known him by.
To lie effectively, one must know the truth. Barbossa was honest with himself at the very least. "My desires match your own, my sweet pet," he said smoothly, exhibiting a roguish grin. "My goal is to serve you." And reap the benfits of your delight in me, he thought happily.
Joie's eyes narrowed, she knew him well and knew that everything he gave to her served himself as well. It suited her divine nature, mortal and immortal alike shared a trait; to get the most out of life, to do what felt best to themselves. "Feeling left out, my teacher? Wish you saw more...action?" she taunted in a sweet voice.
With a self deprecating chuckle, he answered in terms couched to placate, though they both knew she would not be completely decieved. Barbossa enjoyed that they had no false pretenses between them. "If I were free to move about more, darling baby goddess, I could facilitate your search for this...companion you long for."
"Move about? Why...you are able to already!" Joie seemed surprised, then considered for a moment. "Of course, you are limited by your mortal coil, are you not? Well...how can we solve that minor problem, hmm?"
Barbossa's face softened. "Once there was a ship, the fastest in the Carribean. Not mine, not anymore and not for years....I've had many a ship in me life. But none like her. Dark, and beautiful..." He stopped, swallowed against the longing that rose up. He hadn't realized how badly he missed the Black Pearl until he spoke of her.
Chapter Seventeen - Retirement
"Where's my sweet Jacqueline?" Jack asked merrily, walking into the room where Sarah was writing letters. She'd just dipped her quill in the inkwell, and did not look at him as she answered, "Off with her friends at the Lopez house, learning contredance, I believe."
"Oh? I'd thought to take her with me to the harbor. Since she's gone though, you know what that means..." Jack's voice took on a sensuous tone.
Now she did glance at him, and the look on his face combined with him moving towards her made her hastily set her quill down, midsentence. A good thing, for once he reached her he took her elbow and led her to the sitting room sofa.
"Family duties, Sarah!" Pulling her down onto the cushions with him, Jack proceeded to tickle his wife, a very satisfying occupation. Contentedly he listened to her giggle, pinned her with his stronger body to feel her squirming beneath him. "That's it," he crooned as her ardent wiggles affected his appetite. "Let's bounce your bawdy buttocks on the couch!"
He seemed happy. Often he could be found at the wharf, talking to sailors. Before, his maps had been only of the nearer Mediterranean area, now he sought to expand by offering beautifully drawn and very accurate depictions of far flung lands he'd visited in person. In fact, this was a large reason his maps were so popular; not only were they beautifully rendered, but Jack had conducted his own surveys rather than relying on other's maps. As well, he offered maps of areas not directly under Spanish influence.
As he normally did while on shore leave, Jack took care of many of the heavier chores around the house for Sarah. Without complaint he mucked out the barn, cleaned chicken coops, and hoed the vegetable garden. In the winters, he chopped and hauled wood, not only for cooking and heating water, but for Sarah's use in drying clothes. The season was really quite mild but took a fair bit for him to get used to, accostomed as he was to the heat of the Caribbean. But by far his favorite chore was to go along with Sarah to market, and help negotiate the prices lower for her. Jack did not realize it until many years later, but Sarah was well known in that marketplace and had even picked up some glibtongued tricks from her husband. But the added assistance he felt he was providing made him feel important and useful, so Sarah never said a word in protest.
One day, an invitation came in the mail from some old acquaintances of Sarah's. A woman who once lived in the village and been widowed just before delivering her first child, had then married and moved away with a family friend of her late husband's some time later. She'd had another child but that first daughter, whom Sarah had attended, was now getting married and a ball was being held. The news was met with great enthusiasm by Sarah.
The Sparrows hired a carriage for the occasion and arranged for their daughter to stay with Joshamee and Lucia. Unfortunately, Jackie was getting to an age where balls were of great interest to her and she was very upset she would not be included. Sarah placated her child by bringing with her to dress fittings, for both herself and Jack invested in new clothes for the occasion.
She chose a fabric of rose pink and cream colored lace, with a neckline daring for a woman of her social status; that is, married with adult children and presumably awaiting a grandchild. Jack, to match her, dressed in breeches and waistcoat of deep red, almost a burgundy, grey vest, and blindingly white shirt and cravat. Disdaining the high collars favored by some of the Spanish gentlemen, he finished his toilette with stockings and black buckle shoes, then had Sarah wrap his thick hair back with a velvet thong, and donned his treasured hat.
Balls in Spain were not much like balls in England. For one, girls were not encouraged to be modest and coquettish like their English counterparts but to enjoy life and flirt if they wished, and respond to flirting. Also, while vigorous dances of the country were done, English and even French dances were also played on such occasions. Dances were a good chance to kiss your sweetheart and otherwise make your interests known to a possible beau.
Captain and Senora Sparrow enjoyed themselves greatly. Mostly they danced with each other, but there were also several steps done with multiple partners; contredance was very popular. During one of these Jack found himself face to face with a sprightly woman near his own age, with greying hair but a beautifully serene smile and lovely countenance. Later, as he and Sarah sat and enjoyed a cup of rum punch, the lady approached them and introduced herself as Georgina Wilcott. She'd been widowed for two years.
Jack danced with her. It was somewhat out of a sense of gallantry since the lady seemed so eager for a turn round the floor. He would have preferred to have a bit of quiet conversation with Sarah, instead, but figured he would have more chances for that later.
The music was somewhat sprightly, the steps requiring him to hold his partner close. Widow Georgina chattered to him of her admiration for his daring escapades and handsome face. With some amusement he realized he was being flirted with, rather boldly. His male pride was delighted in this turn of events; how long had it been since a woman new to him had flattered him so? Seeing her success with him, the lady leaned forward and planted a soft, not quite chaste kiss square on his lips!
With a wicked chuckle, Jack pulled his head back out of Georgina's reach. "Now now, pet," he murmured soothingly.
Her eyes were shining hopefully. The dance was nearly over, so he courteously swept her back to the table she'd found him at, provided her a full cup of punch, and pulled his wife into the waltz which played next. And told her, with no small amusement, of his wee adventure. Sarah was not inclined to let him out of her arms afterward. Not necessarily because she was jealous either, but because it felt so wonderful to have Jack's arm tight round her waist and his sure step guiding her over the dance floor. They did not realize that many admiring glances were cast the way of this handsome couple.
Energized by confidence, Jack requested a rather faster tempo. With a loving kiss to his one and only sweetheart, he began the steps. Sarah followed strongly. And they attracted a crowd of onlookers who admired the vigour of the dance. Afterward, applause met them as they made their way, breathing excitedly, to some empty seats. Jack rubbed at his lower back which was paining him a bit. Sarah took a fair while to fully catch her breath.
"That was beautifully done!" applauded their hostess. "Let me serve you some refreshments, you must be worn out after such exercise!" Though her words were warm, there was an undercurrent to her voice that made Jack and Sarah glance meaningfully at each other. The implication was that people as old as they were did not dance about with such abandon. It was causing jealousy and envy amongst their peers.
Despite this, and despite the other comments they heard about how tired they must be now, the Sparrows had a wonderful time. The moon was high in the sky by the time they felt the need to make their way home, and said their goodbyes to Diego and Esperanza, and her parents.
Once home, in bed and skin to skin, Jack took her chin in hand and studied her face very seriously. There were more lines by her eyes, her mouth. The serene expression was that of a contented matron, not an excitable maid. He ran a hand through her hair, still luxurious and dark. "Growing old, luv. Don't want to."
She took hold of his wrist, turned her head to kiss his palm. "You'll never be old to me, Jack."
"Am though Sarah. I ache in places I didn't before. Get tired more easily. 'N look at my face. I know the grey at my temples shows more 'n more. I know my face is starting to look like a map of Shipwreck, same as Teague's." He buried his face in her sweet smelling neck. She soothed him. "No...can't do it. Can't, Sarah. Too hard."
"Jack...you've survived so much already. These intriguing scars made a pretty story for eager young things awed by your legend." She infused her words with lightheartedness. "Surely after the youth you've had, growing old will be much easier?"
When he glanced up, she stroked his mustache greedily, as she did when she wanted his mouth. Jack chuckled ruefully. "I'd love to oblige you, but I'm too tired to move. Another indignity me ripe age is visiting upon me."
"Mmmmm, all right Jack."
"Tomorow." Now his ego was getting involved, seeking to repudate the status he held as her lover. "When I've rested some."
Simply holding him, she lulled them both to sleep.
After a pleasant interlude of making love - no, he couldn't call it that, with Calypso it was about pure physical need and pleasure only, she felt the call of the dead at sea. Murmuring sweetly to him about being back for more later, the goddess slipped away to Ferry the lost souls.
Barbossa dozed on the smooth sand, feeling the sun's bright rays warm him. Somewhere behind him in the lagoon he heard Joie, singing as she combed her hair and wove seashells into it. Some slight noise alerted him; some change in the warmth of the air and sun. Raising his head, he observed someone standing down by the waterline.
Abruptly he sat up and shaded his eyes to get a clearer look. The person stepped closer, and as his view became more detailed Barbossa realized 'person' was a poor description. In wonder he stared at the eldritch creature before him. Noted the greenish tinge to the skin, the gills along the ribcage, the fins on legs and back of what was otherwise an exceptionally beautiful boy.
"Is she here?" The amazing boy asked. The question, along with the normalacy of the tone, startled Barbossa from his close scrutiny. "I've brought her a gift."
Proudly he stood 'neath the piercing gaze of the older man facing him. Hair, sun golden and seaweed green, hung in long matted tangles down his back nearly to his legs. His nose was large, his chin stern. Blue eyes held a touch of amusement as he half turned and waved a hand behind him. Barbossa noted the webs between the fingers before managing to tear his eyes away and look where they were pointing.
A brigantine lay at anchor, lines clean and smooth, masts thrust proudly to the sky. Greed filled him at the sight of her. The sea man's voice jarred him again. "I've not brought tribute to the sea goddess in some time. She will be pleased, no?"
Barbossa's eyes shifted towards him again. "Tribute....to Calypso?"
"Yes. A son should honor his mother sometimes. At least, she told me so often enough."
He looked again at the ship. Fingers itching to command her. "Where did you get it?"
"It was given to me." A negligent shrug, causing ripples through the muscular flesh. Abruptly, Joie's singing somewhere in the distance stopped. "I've no need of it, so I give it to her. Maybe she will like it. Maybe she will forgive me." A roguish grin, somehow familiar.
He turned to go. Barbossa reached out a hand, desperate for more contact. "Wait! What's your name?"
The wild face looked back at him. "My people call me Orungan."
"Your people?" Did the merman refer to his family somehow? Were there more like him? If so, why didn't Joie and Calypso know of it?
"Yes." Orungan was losing interest. "It's as good a name as any. I will come back. To see if my gift is well used." He smiled, revealing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.
When he disappeared beneath the tranquil waters, Joie crept up quietly beside him. She'd been lurking behind him, taking in the strange exchange. She turned wondering brown eyes to Barbossa's face. "He looked like you! His eyes are like yours!"
Chapter Eighteen - An Interlude of Intimacy?
"One more thing, ma'am. A letter came to me, from your son Teague when I bespoke his ship briefly. He said it was from Maria." The younger Indian man smiled tolerantly as Sarah exclaimed in happiness and snatched the letter from him. "Teague also says he will come soon for a visit."
Sarah looked proudly at the letters on the outside of the envelope, written in her daughter's hand. Then looked back up at Swaraj, thinking he looked very little like Rajeev and far more like his gentle mother. "Thank you Swaraj. You've done such a fine job taking care of things during your fathe's illness. My condolences again on his passing."
The man took a deep breath and nodded thanks. "It was a blessing in the end, and he will be reborn even greater. Well, I'd best be getting underway, we wish to catch the evening tide." With a courteous bow, he turned towards the junk that lay at anchor, the Sarah's Swann. But paused, and nodded to something behind his employer. "Captain Sparrow."
Jack strolled up to his wife and the young captain and greeted them with a curt nod. "Fair winds to you, Captain Swaraj."
She linked arms with him, noticing his discomfort. Jack did not come to the docks anymore if he could possibly help it. He generally became very jittery. She cast a glance further down the docks as he led her away. Not far were the graving docks, where Pearl was held, chained a few feet from the water she once plowed freely through. Jack was rushing her away as quickly as he could.
"Jackie sent me to find you. Said she wants to help prepare the noon meal." Their daughter was learing more and more about the running of a household, as most young women did to prepare for marriage. Jackie also expressed interest in dancing, less inclination in midwifery. "What does Maria have to say?" nodding towards the letter she was opening.
It was bulky, and when she pulled the letter out, several small seashells fell into her hand. She handed them to her husband, who examined them and held one to his ear. "'Found these on the beach at one of the Galapagos Islands'" Sarah read. "'Thought the beautiful shade of rosy pink inside would please you.' There's more, written for you," she went on, glancing at Jack to see an odd look on his face. Sarah knew that the seashells and letter, and visit to the docks, were reminding him of what he'd given up.
Jack took the letter and perused as she steered them. They strolled back towards the house, Jack playing absently with her fingers where they lay on his wrist. That look, she'd seen before in his unguarded moments. Though he had free time in abundance to do as he pleased now, Jack had changed. Tea parties, dances, fishing with his daughter and helping in his wife's garden; none of these tested the fiber of his being and raised his mettle as being out on the open sea.
He refused to talk about it, even became angry and ordered her to shut it when she pushed the subject of taking the Pearl out again. Jack was haunted after only a year; land locked, and suffering for it, bored. They didn't couple with the inventiveness they used to. Though it was still very enjoyable, it was usually more of an afterthought just before sleep than anything else. Rarely did they explore and use their mouths as they were so fond of doing at one time. Wost of all, Jack was a quiet man, not given to much talkativeness at all anymore.
Sometimes she would get up early, wash carefully, and slip back in bed with him. More often than not, when she made such effort, her waking of him led to kissing and pleasant interludes of touching. And sometimes more. One such morning, Jack woke to the gentle sounds of her ablutions and grinned in delight. He kept still so she wouldn't realize he's discovered her, and savored the anticipation. That she makes extra effort to be appealing and fresh smelling to him makes him weak inside, like he's melted in the sun. A feeling similar to every single day when he first courted her.
When moments passed and Sarah still was not beside him, he became impatient. As quietly as he could, he tipped his head at the right angle to glimpse her, and slit his eyes open. She was dressed only in a flimsy robe, standing before the full length mirror and leaning towards it. She was doing something...he couldn't quite make out what and simultaneously opened his eyes wider and squinted harder to bring her into focus. Sarah held a pair of tweezers up to her head. She was plucking grey hairs.
Oh God. In utter shock, he watched her. The movements were practiced. She'd done this before. Slowly he sat up and she saw him in the mirror. Gasping in surprise, she dropped the tweezers and whirled to stare wide-eyed at him. "Oh, Jack!"
He had to swallow twice before he could ask her, "How long have you been doing that, luv?"
For a moment she looked as though she would deliberately misunderstand him, or lie. Then she gave a little sigh and admitted, "Since just after Maria ran off."
He kept shaking, like a palsied old man. For a year, an entire year, she'd had grey hair. Sarah tried to issue a gay little laugh, stepping closer. "What's a few grey hairs, Jack? You've got them!"
"Then why hide it from me?" With a quick movement he grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the bed. "Why keep it secret?" rising above her on his knees.
"I...didn't want you to worry."
"Not worry?" Jack's upper lip drew back in an angry snarl. "I thought you weren't aging!" His voice rose in anguish. "I thought you drank enough Youth water, just maybe, that this wouldn't happen for years and years!"
"It's been years and years," she tried to touch his cheek, he grabbed her hand and pinned it against the bed. A calculating look came into his eyes and he leaned over to the bedside table, snatching at one of her scarves there. With quick movements he bound her wrist to the headboard.
"What are you doing!" Sarah exclaimed in amazement, trying to roll over.
"Punishing you!" Jack straddled her hips and glared down into her face. "Punishing you for lying to me, for not telling me the truth! I trust you to ALWAYS open up to me!" As he lectured her he fastened her free hand so she lay stretched and vulnerable.
She felt a stab of nervousness, and struggled in her bonds. Something hot flared in Jack's eyes. Tenderly he brushed back her hair from her face, trailed his fingertips over her cheeks and down her throat. The touch was incongruously gentle, a direct contrast to his angry words, and she shivered, lifting her chin trustingly. Jack traced the lines that marked her now as older; the 'crow's feet' lines emating from her mouth and eyes, the not quite taut skin of her throat.
There was deep sadness in his eyes as he fully confronted what had been literally staring him in the face. An opportune moment for her to boldly say, "What I see in your eyes is a desire to be free."
Now instead of sadness, anger flared in his face. Swiftly he sat up and found another scarf, this time binding it around her head, covering her eyes. These scraps of fabric were gauzy; intended merely to cover her coiffures in inclement weather. She could still peer through if she wished, but her eyes automatically closed when the scarf touched them, and Jack had tied it tight. Sarah was completely blind and helpless.
The bed dipped from his weight as Jack settled back between her spread thighs, thus trapping her legs. Nervously, somewhat breathlessly, she waited to see what form this "punishment" would take. The moments seemed long, but it was actually only seconds before she felt his hands on her again; his fingertips actually, stroking the flesh of her breasts. Sarah jerked, startled, but other than a very soft and very predatory growl, he did not acknowledge her at all. Nor did he stop.
Slow circles were traced lightly around and around. Jack appeared to be in no hurry to do anything else but give these feather light strokes. Wryly she reflected that it hardly seemed a punishment, until she began to squirm in a desire for more. More pressure, more variety, simply more. He let her writhe a bit before lifting those gifted hands and moving them to her sides. Now with a slighter firmer touch Jack caressed her ribcage and stomach. Sarah began to sigh with enjoyment and relax slightly, giving herself over in complete trust. His silence was a tad worrisome, normally during such encounters he was much more vocal. But then, he'd been getting quieter and quieter the last few months.
When he realized she was giving herself over to the enjoyable sensation of his tender strokes, Jack shifted again. He settled himself across her hips again, and once more using only his fingertips, began what was truly, she understood now, a punishment. Gentle fingertips peaked her nipples to hard little points through the material of her dressing gown, until she ached for rougher contact. Groaning, she tried to raise herself further into his hands, Jack withdrew.
"Oh please, Jack!" Sarah begged sweetly. His indrawn breath was very gratifying.
"Why should I? I'll do what I please, here, and not worry about satisfying you, eh?" Yet he was pulling open her gown even as he spoke, baring her body, and her breath quickened in anticipation. Sure enough, his hands went to her breasts again, teasing her nipples with rolling strokes. It felt so good. She cried out and shuddered. His weight dipped forward, his hair swept over her shoulders just before his warm mouth enveloped one breast. He intended to torture her with pleasure.
Beyond doubt Jack was completely in control. Sarah strained every sense left to her to determine his next move, but even when she guessed it, it still left her shuddering and soon, pleading for more. His lips and mustache ghosted over her skin, rarely making enough contact to truly satisfy her. Neck, nipples, sides, navel, and pubic bone all recieved frustratingly gentle attentions. She was vividly reminded of just how patient Jack Sparrow could be in exacting his revenge. When he'd driven her to the edge of screaming frustration, Sarah's tormentor withdrew completely from the bed.
Straining her ears to catch any sound, she called to him. "Jack? Please...I need you!"
"Not near done with you, Sarah. Just you wait." Jack's voice was a low raspy growl.
She felt his weight on the bed again, down near her feet. Unbeknownst to her, he brought with him a few items to aid him in his goal. He stroked her legs, then pushed on her knees to raise them. Sarah felt rough rope around one ankle and twitched in surprise. "What..?" she tried to ask.
"Don't question me!" Jack answered harshly. "Just obey!"
Despite the harsh words, he was as usual gentle with her. With practiced motions he fastened her legs in place, knees raised and legs wide apart. Next she felt a strange feeling, like a very soft brush, sweeping over her inner thighs and the back of her knees. It was, in fact, a feather, and Jack watched with narrowed eyes to observe her response to it. It tickled a little, and she giggled while thrashing her head from side to side. He stroked it directly over her exposed quim. "Jack!" she called weakly.
There was great need in the sound of his name. Since he wasn't speaking at all, Sarah was deprived of both the sight and sound of him. Despite the pleasure, she felt disconnected from him and a little frightened. He couldn't help but respond to it instantly. "Yes love?"
"Talk to me...please...." Her voice was ragged and she was out of breath. Sweat gleamed on every inch he could see, and the womanly opening he was teasing with a feather was slick and swollen. She was absolutely the most gorgeous sight he'd ever seen.
"And what shall I say?" he replied in a sinful purr. "Shall I tell you my whole body is hard for you, and not just my cock?" His wife moaned. "It's perfectly true." The feather was abandoned in favor of his fingers speading the wetness all over her clitoris. "I can also say, quite truthfully, that I'm angry enough to spank your plump tush till it's red and quivering."
Somewhat to his shock and very much to his delight, she moaned and tried to grind her hips. "Why, Sarah bit," his voice dripping with lust and rage. "A glutton for punishment, are we?" He didn't wish to talk anymore, and was about to put his mouth to better use, when the other occupant of the house made herself known.
"Mum? Da?" Jackie's sleepy voice called through the closed bedroom door. Jack could just imagine her, wrapped up in a serape, hair loose. Usually she got up first and started the bread baking. Usually they were out and about by now.
Sliding up his wofe's body, he hissed close to her ear, "Make no sound, or I'll gag you next. Savvy?" At her nod, he nodded once, satisfied. Turned his head and called out, "Thank you Precious, your mother and I will be down in a bit. We need to talk some, in private. Carry on, love."
There was a noticable hesitation from Jacqueline before she answered, "All right Da. If you say so." She sounded disgusted and Jack wryly reflected he'd probably not fooled her one little bit. The sound of her retreating footsteps was complemented by Sarah's giggles. Jack once more put his mouth to ear, reminding her that he was going to continue punishing her, and she gasped.
He lowered himself between her helplessly inprisoned legs, and delicately moved his tongue between her sopping folds. Jack was expert by now in gauging her readiness. Easily, he brought her to the brink and kept her hovering there by stroking with gentle precision just next to her clitoris but not directly on it. She was mewling and struggling, still trying to keep silent as he'd commanded. Jack grinned wickedly and moved down from her clitoris, past her needy opening, lower.
Sarah jerked at the new sensations as Jack's tongue traveled down over the tender area of skin below her vagina. Shivered as he laved with the firm strokes she's been craving, and couldn't help crying out, "Jack! Wha..what are you..!"
"I dare you to keep silent during this," he growled, before his mouth descended again. Still lower, until he dragged the flat of his tongue over her other opening, daringly, tauntingly.
Sarah shuddered and twisted at the sensations. Her legs were melting, she felt weak. An incredible lust filled her, overwhelming all reason, as his tongue jabbed and caressed this hidden part of her body. She had to have more, have him, at any cost, and made wild sounds indicating her need. To say that he was gratified by her response was a vast understatement. In fact, he feared he would lack the control he would greatly need in order to see his plan through.
As he worked her with his mouth, he busied his hands with the small bottle of oil he'd brought earlier to the bed. "So clean! So sweet!" he moaned between licks. "Mmmm, does it feel good Sarah?"
Her reply was not what anyone would call coherent. Grabbing a pillow, he stuffed it under her hips, causing her bottom to tilt in the air and stretching her even further. Sarah could not even wiggle now. Jack poured a generous amount of oil onto her sensitive bottom. "You know what I'm going to do to you, don't you?" He asked as he stretched her with his littlest finger.
She whimpered and gasped. "Ohhh..yes yes....do it Jack!"
Shuddering, he pushed his index finger, covered with more oil, inside her and rubbed harder to prepare her. He'd teased her too long; she burst in a climax as he wiggled his finger inside her ass. Moaning frantically, Jack grabbed the bottle and dumped oil over his taut member, pumped a hand over himself to coat it well. This touch, the first one since this all started, nearly was his undoing. She was ready now, oh so ready, dark hole soft and open for him to plunder.
Covering her body, Jack took himself in hand and shoved against her anus. Wetness from her orgasm mingled with the oil, making her even slicker. As gently as he could, he pressed further inside. "Oh God....so tight!"
She was panting heavily, and nuzzled his face. He drove further in until he was deeply imbedded. Jack held still and breathed deeply, counted to twenty in Latin, thought of Davy Jones. Aything to hold back just a little longer. "So fucking tight, Sarah!" He swallowed hard, then again.
"You like it better than...?"
Now he did show her affection and love. Kissing her temple sweetly, he smiled against her face and murmured, "Course not darling. I love every inch of you, every welcoming, sweet orifice you offer me." Raising up on his hands, Jack began to move slowly and smoothly.
He knew immediately that he wouldn't last long at all. Fortunately, this being their first time doing this, Sarah wouldn't be able to bear a long session. Between the groans of passion from both of them, she was crying, "Yes Jack.....punish me...oh harder!"
Nearly shouting in response, Jack gave her what she wanted, hoping to bring her with him as he teetered on the edge. From her center pressed to his pubic bone, he felt the spasms and liquid of a second release for her, and let himself go. She was so fucking tight here, so slick and warm, so good. Anguished sounding groans came from deep within his chest as he spent hard inside her quivering bottom.
The experience was so intense, it took him a few tries before he was able to untie Sarah fully. But he managed at last and devoted himself to breathing and resting. Sarah got up after a bit, quite wobbly legged, and washed again. Dressing a bit more slowly than usual, with a few hums and winces of the aftereffects, she finally tossed the washcloth to Jack and left the bedroom to find Jackie.
< Chapters 19 and 20