Immortal Beloved post AWE 7 thru 12

[soleilpirate]

 Title: Immortal Beloved
Author: Soleil Compeau
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Other
Spoilers: post AWE, third in the Jack and Sarah universe
Rating: NC17 overall, cause I'm just that way when I write, some chapters will be PG
Disclaimer: These stunt doubles have just reenacted what takes place after the final cut. No copyright infringement intended, no profits or wages are being made. I do this out of deep love for the characters

Summary: What would a teenage demi-goddess want with Jackson Turner? And what might Sarah and Jack, growing old together, be able to do about it?

Warning: angst, character death both minor and major


 

Chapter Seven - Midnight Mass and Carol of the Birds

When Jack realized that his wife intended to bring his children to a midnight mass in the town cathedral, he became quite a bit put out. "Explain yourself to me, Sarah," he demanded sharply.

She sighed inwardly. Fortunately Teague and the girls were out of earshot for this one. She detested arguing in front of them. "Because it's good for them, Jack."

He sputtered. "How can it be good for them to hear about empty promises?"

She stared stonily at him. He backtracked just a tad. "You've met a goddess yourself, love. Negotiated with her, seen her weaknesses. What makes you think this god is any better than her?"

Softly she answered, "And who's to say that Calypso is not subject to the Lord of all?"

Jack waved his arms in frustration as he paced around their room. "Oh aye, Lord of wind and waves and land and mountains, sure fine! Bring 'em up to follow the superstitious, beauticious, fearful, closed minded, supercillious, empty headed, priggish.." he trailed off.

"Are you quite finished?"

He pasted a large fake smile on his lips. "I am. Take them. Let them bow their heads to the Holy of Holies, unless of course you want and desire for them to revere and honor and astound at something of value other than infants on pedestals in the finding of-"

Sarah put a finger firmly on his lips and he stoopped speaking. "Don't give me that Sparrow double talk. The more words you speak, the more likely it is that you're only telling me what you think I want to hear." She removed her finger, he stayed silent. "If you don't wish to go to the Mass, then don't. Simple." With an enigmatic smile much like his own, she turned and walked out.

Jack stood there, bemused, then grinned lopsidely and stretched out on the bed. He decided to catch up with her after the service. He knew that traditionally, a large pot of stew was served to the community afterward, a feast to make up for the fasting of the day.

When Sarah emerged from the cathedral, her tired children clinging to her skirts, a shadow separated itself from the other shadows near the door and approached her. The cadence of the steps told her exactly who it was. He grinned goldenly at her as he shifted Jackie's sleeping weight from her shoulder and took the burden of the child into his own arms. She teased him a bit. "Come to confess, Captain Sparrow?"

"I've come for the food, o' course." He looked wounded. "My sins are between myself and the sea. And a certain lass with sea green eyes."

They moved closer to the bonfire, where a few volunteers were ladling thick stew into wooden bowls and passing them out. Sarah collected two for Teague and Mary and handed them out, then two more for herself and Jack. Since he held the youngest daughter, he could not take it for himself. Sarah, therefore, fed him. She lifted spoonfuls to his open mouth in between bites of her own. He accepted the spoonfuls, gazing at her with such a soft loving look in his deep caramel eyes that she began to tremble as the bowl emptied.

His look spoke so intimately of *trust* and *openness* and *sharing* that it made her weak-kneed. Sarah was well known in this community. She visited and was visited by several married couples as well as a few single girls. Also, she had attended many births. Only a few times had she seen pairs wedded more than five years look at each other anything remotely like she and her husband still did. *Why* should such passion exist between them? Come to think of it, why should she question it instead in simply reveling in it?

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Between Navidad and New Year's Day, the town gave itself over to music and celebration. Frequently, the family wandered out into the square and simply enjoyed themselves. Some of Sarah's friends dropped by or managed to waylay their path when they ventured out. They wanted to satisfy their curiosity about Sarah's oft absent husband.

Jack was extremely charming to them all. When he was home with her, he tended to downplay his normal ferocious and bizarre appearance. He didn't line his eyes with kohl, and he used his bandanna to tie back his thick hair. His leather captain's hat remained stubbornly on his head, despite all Sarah's efforts to give him one of the more extravagant styles worn by Spanish men. But for all that, he fit in remarkably well. And told outlandish tales of his adventures, which Sarah translated for all.

In point of fact, they became rather known for their flair for such story telling. Jack's graceful and fluid gesturing, Sarah's dramatic pauses during tense moments, the melodic rise and fall of their voices. In point of fact, they became rather well respected. Jack was uncertain whether or not his piracy was known and tolerated, or if he and Sarah really were managing to pull the wool over the entire town's eyes, but it mattered not. They and the crew were made welcome here.

One night, for the moment not being pestered for a performance, Jack and Sarah stood quietly listening to some particularly good musicians. Stirring, Jack leaned towards the fiddler and made a request. They launched into a slow waltz and Jack turned to her with a wicked grin. With a courtly bow that belied that grin, he held out a hand to her. Carefully he pronounced the Spanish words. "Mi señora, vamos a bailar?" (My lady, shall we dance?)

One eyebrow threatened to rise above her hairline. Playing along, she curtsied and placed her hand in his. "Mi placer, y el señor capitán." (My pleasure, lord and captain.)To her utter surprise, Jack placed his arm correctly around her waist and swept her in a masterful circle. "Jack, you can dance?" she exclaimed in English.

"Course I can, darling. After all, you might have noticed I'm an educated man. How do you think I came by it?"

She smiled delightedly as they waltzed slowly together. The children's eyes glowed with pride at the lovely couple Mama and Papa made. Jack went on. "I've had the same proper education most English lads have. And that includes the niceties. You could even take me to tea in London, were it not for the unfortunate blemish marring me otherwise flawless skin, that is." He referred to his pirate brand.

"Why haven't I known this before?"

He swept her in another of those circles, making her heart leap. "Love is full of surprises, my darling."

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Sarah had been asked to dance one of the holidays celebratory Goigs, Carol of the Birds. These were hymms set to dance, and it was a distinctly high honor for her. She grew increasingly nervous as the time of her performance drew closer. Jack tried to calm her in the way he knew best; drinking copious amounts of rum and making wild, passionate love to her. It seemed to help.

The day of her dance arrived and she prepared herself early in the morning. It would be held just outside the cathedral. Sarah waited with poise as the crowds gathered. Jack assumed an indolent pose, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes sparkled as she began. He loved to watch her dance, and it was a rare treat for him, as she did not give public performances much anymore, being generally too busy. The singer began, and so did the dancer.

'Upon this holy night, When God's great star appears, And floods the earth with brightness. Birds' voices rise in song, And warbling all night long. Express their glad heart's lightness. Birds' voices rise in song. And warbling all night long. Express their glad heart's lightness. The Nightingale is first. To bring his song of cheer, And tell us of His glad - ness: Jesus, our Lord, is born. To free us from all sin. And banish ev'ry sadness! Jesus, our Lord is born. To free us from all sin. And banish ev'ry sadness!'

The song came to the bit about the Sparrow, and Sarah managed to fix her eyes on Jack's for a moment before going on with her movements. He smirked in response.

'The answ'ring Sparrow cries: "God comes to earth this day. Amid the angels flying." Trilling in sweetest tones, The Finch his Lord now owns: "To Him be all thanksgiving." Trilling in sweetest tones, The Finch his Lord now owns: "To Him be all thanksgiving." The Partridge adds his note: "To Bethlehem I'll fly, Where in the stall He's lying. There, near the manger blest, I'll build myself a nest, And sing my love undying. There, near the manger blest, I'll build myself a nest, And sing my love undying.'

She finished the dance and lowered into a deep curtsy. Wild applause broke out. Jack pursed his lips, turned to Joshua and Esther standing beside him, and had a few brief words with them. The crowds gathered around Sarah to congratulate her. As soon as he decently could, Jack took her arm and firmly escorted her away, towards their home. He brought her into the house, straight to the bedroom. Sarah was smiling in delight by now.

He flung himself on the sofa and looked at her. "Dance for me Sarah."

She took a deep breath. Trust Jack to be aroused by her motions in acting out a holy and sacred event! She knew what he wanted, had done it for him before. She swayed her hips while lifting her skirts high to show off her legs to him. Jack leaned his head on the back of the sofa and unlaced his trousers.

Sarah could not unlace her bodice by herself. Swaying a bit more, she then twirled and kneeled with her back to him. His fingers tugged quickly at her ties, freeing her. Rising slowly, the fabric fell from her body as she turned herself to show him. He freed his penis from his open pants and stroked himself almost absently while his dark eyes devoured her. In only a chemise she had more freedom of movement.

He continued to run his hand up and down his steadily stiffening prick. Sarah continued to undress while slowly whirling and swaying. Shortly he became impatient and undressed hastily, tossing his clothes willy nilly. Silently he crooked a finger to her in invitation. Now wearing only her last scrap of undergarments, she straddled his lap. He dove for her breasts.

Placing his hands on the outer sides of them, he pressed his face between them. His thumbs swept over her nipples while he moved his face back and forth and his tongue flicked out to taste the little hollow of her chest. He kissed over the tops of the swells, then pressed her breasts even closer together and took the taut tips both into his mouth. Sarah placed trembling hands into the rich spill of luxuriant dark hair. His tongue moved back and forth, gently licking her, arousing her to incredible heights.

Jack let go of her with one hand and reached between them, between her legs. The silk of her panties was damp with her, and he groaned at the warmth. He kneaded the material against her core with gentle fingers. Sarah's hands left his hair and she held her own breasts for him to continue suckling. When she began rocking her hips to the motion of his fingers, he could not wait anymore. "Take them off, unless you want them ruined."

Sarah stood, slid the panties off, and climbed right back into his lap. They were completely alone, the children still in the town square with her friends, and it was the middle of the afternoon. The sheer decadence of being able to partake of such delights like this was adding to the mood. Jack splayed a hand over her back and reached between them again, guiding himself into her. Sarah arched up, holding back, making his entry a long slow affair.

When she had slid perhaps only halfway down his cock, Sarah suddenly made a whining cry in the back of her throat and spasmed all over and around him. Jack clenched his teeth, groaning, struggling for control when he realized she was already coming. She thumped repeatedly against his pubic bone, mewling helplessly. He reached behind his head and grasped the material of the couch, tightly.

It was incredibly tempting to simply thrust hard in her right now and finish, spill inside her in return. But he wanted it to last, wanted more of her pleasure, wanted to hear those sounds from her lips over and over. Sarah was more than capable of coming more than once. As soon as she opened her eyes, he whispered huskily. "Use me Sarah. Take me for your own pleasure."

Given permission, Sarah took hold of his shoulders and began riding in smooth up and down motions. He kept hold of the sofa, arms up over his head, leaning back into the cushions. With the edge taken off her hunger for him, Sarah moved slowly and savored the feel and sight of him. His half lidded eyes and parted lips, his black hair tumbling free and wild, his smooth chest heaving all contributed to the sensual feast of making love to Jack Sparrow.

She leaned so her breasts pressed into his chest on each downward surge. He liked the feel of them bobbing against him. Up and down she stroked, rising up then bringing her hips down hard and heavily on him. Jack was reacting more strongly now. Hungry little noises and his eyes opening wider told her he was getting urgent. Sarah moved faster for him, a strong steady rythym. His hands went to her hips, helping her slam down on him.

His lips were stretched in a grimace, brow furrowed, breath coming hard and fast. He looked as though he were caught in a scream. Jack was arching beneath her now. She did her best to slam his hips back against the couch, but he kept lifting them for her again and again. Sarah changed her strokes from long to short and quick. Now the head of his cock struck an extremely satisfying place and she keened in a low voice. Jack's head went back, his neck making a lovely bow shape. He howled with pleasure, warmth flooding inside her in wet spurts. Sarah tightened around him one final time in response to his gorgeous show of pleasure.

He groaned deep in his chest as he finished. Wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, Jack pulled her snug against his body. "I love you, I love you, I love you!" he murmured urgently, pressing his lips to her neck. Sarah closed her eyes and melted. It was rare for him to utter such heartfelt words. Jack showed her his feelings for her, in many small ways. Yet like any woman, she craved such flowery speech. When he did give it, she treasured it all the more greatly.

Chapter Eight - Los Reyes Magos

The morning of 6th January dawned in grey mists. As predicted on such a day, the children were up far earlier than the parents were ready for. "Mama! Mama! Wake up!"

Jack flinched and squeezed his eyes shut farther. Sarah rolled over and sat up blearily. "Son, the parade doesn't start for another hour. Can't you occupy yourself for that length of time?"

A pause. Soft shuffling of feet. Mary's voice, sounding thoughtful. "We can play marbles in the cellar. Or what about the darts?"

"No darts!" Jack called after his offspring as they darted from the room. Sarah muffled snorts of laughter against his chest.

They held each other and dozed lightly, aware of the sounds of small ones playing in another room. Amazingly, they heard no shrieks of outrage or pain, no clattering of crockery, no sound of smashing objects. After awhile, the slightly more rested mother and father were ready to face the day.

"Teague, help Jacqueline put her shoes on. Mary, here's a warm cloak, sweetie. All right, you're ready now. Have fun!" Sarah stood in the doorway watching them dash off. This was a day for children. The Desfile de los Tres Reyes Magos, or the Parade of the Three Kings, was always very popular, and often quite extragavant, depending on the donations of townsfolk to the Governor that arranged it every year. It would give her plenty of time to arrange their gifts in the shoes each child had left lined up before the fire.

Jack helped her stuff the toes of the shoes with bags of candied and chocolate nuts, then oranges in the rest. Atop the shoes Sarah carefully arranged the gifts. A new dress, carefully folded, and a china doll, for each girl. For Teague, a new set of breeches and shirt, along with a new adze for his carvings. 

"I have something for you as well Jack." Sarah turned to him with a smile. Rummaging in a drawer of the cabinet in the dining room, she withdrew a slim, leather bound book. Holding it out to him, she explained. "It's a collection of poetry by John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester."

He took it hesitantly. "I don't go in much for earls and lords, love. As you well know."

She merely smiled. "Perhaps this one you will find to your liking. He was banished several times from court, among other things. Perhaps a pirate at heart?"

Rather intrigued now, Jack opened the book and took a sampling. An eyebrow raised, lips pursed, and he raised his eyes to her. Ah, his interest was piqued. Delighted, she informed him. "I particularly liked 'Return.' Reminds me of us, a bit. On page twelve."

He leafed to that page. Read the poem, and smiled softly. He turned another page and read some more. She chuckled to herself and left the room, leaving Jack engrossed. She went to the kitchen to begin preparing the feast. Esther and Joshua would arrive shortly. She worked on stuffing the turkey full of plums until their arrival.

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"Good, now try spelling the word 'brought.' It's tricky, you have to think about it." She instructed. Mary and Cotton both sat before her at the wooden table. Both bent studious heads to the task of scratching out letters on the parchment before them.

Mr. Cotton's lessons were going well. He already knew his letters when Sarah had begun instructing him. Now he was writing simple sentences. "All right, I think we're finished for today. Mary, please go fetch..that thing I purchased this morning." She grinned widely and winked at her daughter, who grinned back and scampered away.

Cotton wrote industriously, passed the results across the table. 'Family gone'

She reached over to pat his shoulder. "I know Joseph, but you have another. Jack and I, our children, are your family. You know that."

He looked at her with a tender expression and wrote again. 'Good girl"

"I'm pleased you think so!" Mary returned at that moment, carrying something large covered with a blanket. Sarah helped her set it on the table and then pulled the covering material away. It was a cage, with a parrot in it.

The old pirate looked nervously but with great excitement at the bird. Slowly he reached for the latch and coaxed the parrot to his arm. Standing on his forearm, the bird ruffled its vibrant feathers and croaked, "La vida a su cultivo!" (Life to your crop)

Cotton looked flabbergasted. Sarah sighed. The bloody bird spoke Spanish! But despite that setback, Cotton seemed grateful for her efforts. He snagged the parchment and wrote again, pushed it to her with his eyes oddly bright. 'Jools gone too'

She caught her breath. "Do you mean the diamonds?" She made her voice sound polite and not too excited.

He nodded, wrote once more. "Throo them. I too sad'

"You threw them into the water, because of your grief over what had happened to you. That's understandable." She leaned towards him. Now she couldn't quite keep the tremor of excitement out of her voice. "Mr. Cotton, do you remember...where?"

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Late that night, after the house was dark and quiet and all others were asleep, Jack and Sarah kept each other awake with both gentle and fervent sessions of lovemaking. During a quiet period of sore and sweaty treasuring of each other, she told him. "I'll sail with you Jack. Come spring, but not so far as the Orient. I would be away far too long. I cannot leave my babies for such a time, no matter who is providing for them."

He traced a ghostly dragon over her thigh, finishing with a wicked forked tongue curling towards the source of her nectar. He often liked to draw imaginary tattoos on the skin that he refused to allow to actually be inked. His chin rested on her hip as she lay on her side. "Fair enough. I know of some beautiful islands nearer to hand. Or, sail rather. Not too far from Madagascar, where we can offload our plunder."

Chapter Nine - Another happy new year

The holiday warmth pervaded the entire family. The boys were particularly boisterous, driving Elizabeth to distraction. She would frequently shoo them out of the house to shovel pathways around the house through the snow, or pile up snowballs and pelt them at each other. Willy loved such games, but Jack, being much younger and smaller, invariably came out the worse for wear and came crying into the house. Elizabeth would then cuddle him until he calmed, and set him to warm in front of the fire, often with lollies or other sweets.

She had been raised as a lady and taught things that were more ornamental than useful, and though her life since being the Pirate King had led her to learn many new skills, Elizabeth was still not comfortable in the kitchen. She could cook passingly well but did not truly enjoy it. What had been a wonderful surprise when Will and his father joined them was Bill's knowledge of cooking. Not only was he a wonderful cook, having frequently filled that function aboard the various ships he'd served on, but he had a strong affinity for it.

"Good to know I'm good for something, aside of pillaging, plundering, and fathering a fine son," he'd drawled in that soft spoken voice when he first came home with them. As he said the words, his eyes had rested on Will with a look of love and pride. No longer did he have the shadow of sadness that had always before accompanied the sight of William Turner.

The father and son often sat together, sometimes went for walks about the little seashore town, talking for hours. During thier time on the Flying Dutchman, they had dealt with questions like 'why did you leave me,' and 'what happened between you and my mother' and 'did you hate me for a long time before you decided I was worth saving.' Men handle such topics with ill grace and much averting of eyes, and clearing of throats, and long pauses to deal with the thickness of their throats. Yet eventually, a peace and camraderie and strong attachment had developed between them, and was obvious now.

That first Christmas, Will and Elizabeth had been too overcome by the fact that they were together at all to be able to concentrate on any festivites. Bill had known it, and made it his personal gift to them to handle off the cooking and decorating of the house for them. This year, he encouraged his daughter in law into the kitchen to bake sweeties with him. They began the sweet process of discovering each other. Bill treated her with reverent gentleness and fond teasing. His eyes glowed with satisfaction when he looked upon her or his grandchildren.

In fact, for a pirate, the man was quite zealous of all the little family traditions normally practiced this time of year. Very likely because he had missed so many out of his son's childhood. Caroling, decorating the Christmas tree, encouraging the boys to be good so "Papa Noel" would fill their shoes with goodies, were all things that Bill ate up and seemed to adore.

"All right Elizabeth, now we have to do the angel's haloes. Careful now...twist your wrist just so...there!" Bill looked up at Elizabeth, who was holding a pastry bag and had the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. Flour daubed her cheek. She looked rather adorable and he couldn't help chuckling at the sight.

William had taken the boys caroling, leaving his father and Elizabeth to bake the creche, the traditional nativity scene. This year, they had decided to make them out of merangue, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and nestled in a wreath of holly leves, set up on the table in the front hall. They were putting the finishing touches on now. She had found it rather difficult, but thrilling at the same time. To hold her hand perfectly steady to get just the right shape, setting the figures on a tray and sliding them into the oven to dry just so, the detail involved. Her fingers and wrists ached, but a deep sense of satisfaction and beauty for the tiny things filled her. Impulsively, she hugged Bill.

He stiffened, then relaxed and hugged back, patting one shoulder in an awkward endearing manner. "I'm glad he's got you, girl. He certainly got lucky in the love department," he said gruffly.

She drew back in surprise, glancing at the old man's face. His eyes were averted, but his lips were smiling. Occupying himself with arranging the holly branch just so, he went on. "He talked about you, you know, while he was Captain. Ne'er a fairer and more noble man, my boy. His mother did just right by him. He's got a shining bit of steel in him."

"Yes he does. He's an amazing man. I think sometimes, how I might have missed out on my life with him, for lack of courage to speak to him more plainly. Thank goodness he finally was brave enough...to tell me..he loved me." Elizabeth's voice started out strong but got faint and awed by the end. "No matter how difficult it was sometimes, I would not trade my life and my love for anything else, ever."

Bootstrap smiled again, memories glimmering in his eyes. "It's that kind of strength and tenaciousness he admired and loved so much in you. It's what he talked about when it got bad for him, missing you. He knew that you would love him until the bitter end, that you would never give up on him coming home one day. He KNEW it."

They finished placing the delicate nativity in the proper places; Joseph and Mary reverently bent over the tiny miraculous baby, shepards and Magi gathered beyond to pay awed tribute. She squeezed her father in law's arm. "I'm so glad he saved you," she said softly. "I didn't think he'd be able to, for a bit."

Her answer was a shy half smile. A few minutes later, William burst into the house with a son on each arm, all three singing at the top of their lungs. Cheeks were rosy, and smiles were huge. They finished with a grand finale, at the feet of their delighted audience. Applauding happily, she hugged her children and shooed them off to bed. Bill stepped in front of her, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let me put them to bed. Go be with him. You know you want to, Elizabeth."

He led the boys off before she could argue, and Will came up behind her and slid his arms around her. Taking full advantage of the situation, she turned, locked her arms behind his head, and pulled him down for a kiss. His cold face quickly warmed as she drew him in more passionately. Slowly he walked her backwards down the hallway to their bedroom, hands caressing her waist and tongue dominating hers.

He kicked the door shut behind them, and freed her bodice from it's laces. Pressing her down on the bed, he tugged at her gown until it was off and floating across the room. Elizabeth lay with chest heaving in her chemise while he stripped his breeches and shirt off. Coming back down to her, he kissed her again with breathtaking passion. "Elizabeth, my Elizabeth," he whispered, stroking her breasts tenderly. She felt him hot and hard against her thigh.

He was urgent tonight, which excited her dreadfully. Often, he was slow and insistently gentle until she drummed against him demanding more, harder. And laughingly, he would give in to her, making her realize that was his intention all along. Now, he skipped several teasing steps to more direct action. He was almost rough as he undressed both of them, stealing hard kisses between until she could barely catch her breath. Once they were naked, he rolled them until she was on top. "Come on Elizabeth. Give me your strength, give me your beauty."

She impaled herself on him, moaning softly, and rode up and down, looking at his face slack with bliss. She came twice, and he urged her in a rough voice to keep going, to bounce harder, until her thighs were burning and her body beaded with sweat and he yielded to her with a loud cry. Resting together in sleepy afterglow, he caught his breath and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Elizabeth my love."

Chapter Ten - Abducted

Everything had been decided, and Jack began charting their course. The Seychelle Islands off the coast of Madagascar were enchanting and beautiful and uncivilized. A perfect place to take his wife for romance and debauchery. He imagined the various activities they could partake in on the sun drenched beaches, just like the little spit where he'd found her after Barbossa marooned her before they wed. 

The most difficult part of the journey would be rounding the treacherous Cape of Good Hope. No sailor or captain, no matter how seasoned, undertook that lightly.

Sarah became rather maudlin over the children after Johsua and Esther Whiting arrived with little Becky, the apple of their eyes. She really was a handsome child, with pretty blue eyes like forget me nots. Sarah mooned about, until Jack formulated a plan that not only stirred his lusty appetite, but was sure to bring out the wicked ruthlessness he knew was hidden under Sarah's current very motherly demeanor.

He tried to understand, a mother's instincts and all that. Joshua tactfully reminded him that Jack was accustomed to taking his leave of them, but Sarah was not at all. Esther helped him put the finishing and necessary feminine touches on his plan. That night, he watched unobserved as his wife tucked in his wee babies for the last time. Teague and Mary were aquiver with excitement at the thoughts of the good times they would have with Auntie and Uncle. Jackie was nearly oblivious, aware only that Mama was going with Papa this time, and "would be back."

Sarah sighed heavily as she pushed a stray lock of black hair from the chubby toddler's face and moved from her bedside. No doubt she believed she would have another emotional, teary eyed goodbye with them over breakfast next morning. Jack accosted her in the hallway outside their own room, pushing her against the wall and bending down to kiss her senseless.

After the lovemaking that inevitably followed, she had a rather interesting suggestion. To withhold themselves from sex during the first part of the voyage, in order to best recreate their maiden sail together and build tension between them. Jack was sated, sleepy, and therefore agreeable, and they set a time span of two weeks, which was approximately the time that had passed for them between meeting and falling into bed and love together. Nonetheless, two weeks was the agreement, and Jack believed it simple enough to stick to.

Next morning, just before the sun rose, he forced himself from sleepy contentment and woke. Quickly and silently he dressed and gathered Sarah's clothes for the journey. He sneaked out of the room to give the bundle to Esther who in turn gave it to Gibbs who took it to the fully loaded Pearl. Now came the really difficult part of his task.

With silk scarves he bound Sarah's feet and hands securely, and ocvered her with not only her housecoat but a thick blanket as well, shielding her face from the light of the sun just beginning now to rise. He gathered her comfortably in his arms, murmuring sleepy sounding nonsense to her so she would be soothed and relax in his embrace. He moved carefully, slowly, shifting her weight in increments until he was seated at the side of the bed with her curled against his chest.

The crucial moment had arrived and Jack found himself nervous. She was going to be sooo angry...He stood up swiftly and fluidly, walking swiftly out the bedroom door and towards the door of their home. Sarah remained asleep, did not stir until he was clear of the house and striding towards the harbor. The cooler air was the culprit. He felt her body changing from it's cuddled position against his chest.

He felt her quiver in surprised query to find herself being carried, and gathered his strength for what was sure to be a battle. Any moment...ahh, there. He felt her stiffen as she discovered herself bound. But she surprised him.

"Jack, what's going on?" His face quirked in a smile. Trust Sarah to be curious and logical and assess the matter before acting. She wiggled to free her face from the confining blanket, succeeded after a few moments. Jack was moving as swiftly as possible now, just short of running.

She saw the ship in the distance, turned her head and saw her home receding in the early morning half light. Her home containing her sleeping children. Now her rage exploded. The screech of an indignant banshee nearly deafened him. "Jack! You insufferable cad!"

He'd expected her to struggle deliciously against his chest. Dressed as she was in only her nightgown and housecoat, Jack had anticipated a quite enjoyable friction from her body. Fantasies of himself carrying off a wiggling armful of sexy pirate lass dissipated. Raising her bound hands, Sarah clenched her fingers into a double fist and thumped him square on the forehead. He went down like a load of bricks.

He was only woozy. Sarah had struck him to free herself, not do any serious damage. When he cleared his vision a few moments later, he beheld her sitting next to him, chewing at the knots with her teeth. He moved to pick her up, and she shrieked at him, "Noo Jack!"

Wisely, he slung her over his shoulder so she could not strike him again, tossing the blanket over her to prevent his crew from getting an eyeful of her scantily clad posterior. Her undignified position did not stop her from struggling. She arched, drummed her fists on his backside, tried to kick him so that he had to clutch tight at her legs. She also blistered his ears with horrid sounding Spanish deprecations.

Her gyrations caused him to wobble a bit as he started up the gangplank. Deliberately, he shifted her rather farther down his shoulder than was stictly necessary, and exaggerated the stagger so that her head swung out over the water. She clutched at him frantically. "Careful darling," he drawled. "Wouldn't want you to end up in the drink due to me careless butter fingers." Said fingers walked suggestively up the back of one of her thighs, causing an audible indrawn breath from her.

He carried her to the great cabin, dumping her unceremoniously inside, fingers tugging expertly at the silk round her wrists so that the tie slithered loose easily. Furious eyes and a flushed face met his gaze from behind wildly tangled hair. "Make yourself comfortable my love." he said sarcastically. Waving a jewelled hand, he added, "You know where everything is." She flew at him in a rage, he skipped backwards, slammed the door and barred it.

It was later that he discovered that she had stolen his keys, which included the key to the rum stores. Seething anger filled him for a moment, but gave way to great amusement. Sarah was a true pirate bride, remembering to filch his pockets while being abducted! She had no more access to the rum than anyone else, but was no doubt availing herself of the bottles already in the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He swung open the door in the moonlight, finally ready to brave the angry lioness caged within. Squinting momentarily, he located her sprawled across the bed, with only a few candles lighting the interior. Sarah had not availed herself of the clothes he'd made sure were brought aboard for her, and the skirt of her nightgown was raised nearly to the tops of her thighs. A rum bottle was clutched in one hand. She glanced at him, almost as if disinterested, raised the bottle to her mouth and sucked the opening lewdly.

Heat flared in him and he started towards her with the single intent of removing the nightgown as quickly as possible. "Stop!" she snapped at him. Sarah was most thoroughly sussed. "We agreed, no sex for two weeks."

"Oh come now, Sarah," he wheedled, easing his way further inside the room. His eyes flashed with lustful intent. "And come later, and come again, and-"

A solid object thunked against the wood of the door just behind his head after first breezing through his hair. She was sitting up now, anger flashing out at him from those amazing eyes and her arm cocked from the throw. Ah. She hadn't forgiven him for carrying her off then. He changed tactics. "Might I persuade you to share the remaining rum, bit o'Sarah?"

"Get yer own," she slurred in response.

He cast his eyes around the room. There on his table he spotted two full onion bottles. Stepping forward and snaking out a hand to snag one, he swung his eyes back to the bed, there to stop, frozen at the lustful vision that greeted him. The hand that had thrown the book at him was now under her skirt, moving back and forth slowly. Her eyes were still fixed on him with equal parts desire, fury and drunkenness. She drank again, and raised her skirt over her hips with a sinful smile.

"Luv, what you're touching is mine. I've no objections to sharing, however," he pointed out in the most reasonable tones he could muster, which wasn't very.

"Can't have sex with me Jack. We agreed. But that doesn't mean I can't satisfy myself." She pouted sensuously at him, shifting her legs so he had a nice clear view of exactly what her fingers were doing.

Sweat broke out all over his body and his skin tingled. His breeches felt extremely constraining, so he did the sensible thing. He opened them and exposed himself to the dark warm air of his quarters. What he didn't expect was Sarah dropping her eyes to have a look at him, and moan and frig her fingers faster. "Oh God!" He wrapped a hand around himself and tugged.

Now her fingers went delving into that wet lucious crack he was fond of pumping himself. Once again he tried to go to her to relieve his sexual need, agreement be damned. Once again Sarah warned him away, pulling her hand out from between her legs and snarling at him furiously. He supported himself with one hand on the table and rubbed his fist furiously over his hard prick.

His wanton woman seemed to like that very much, for her eyes once again slid downwards to watch him, while her own hand stole back to her sticky center. She moaned quietly, nowhere near the loud shrieks she made when HE was the one touching her, he noted with some pride. He swept his thumb over the head of his cock on every upstroke. His legs became very weak, and he cursed and moaned as he touched himself. His eyes remained steadily fixed on the hypnotic sight of her fingers pumping in and out of her body, thumb sweeping in circles over the bump at the top that made her jerk and quiver.

"I want you Sarah," he said plaintively in a rough voice. He licked his lips, dry from all the air he was sucking in and out of his lungs.

Her own breathing was sharp and loud. Damnit he could *hear* the wet sounds her cunny made as she fingered herself, and it drove him over the edge. Pleasure raced white hot along his nerve endings, and he groaned in relief as his seed spilled hot over his own fingers. Looking up, he watched as Sarah arched her back, sighing his name in gasps as she quivered in her own orgasm.

He'd wanted her, and she had denied him. The anger from before rose up again. This had not been a satisfying encounter. "Two weeks Sarah? Ah, but who will break first, I wonder?" He left the cabin, unable to face the thought of sleeping there just yet. He paced the deck a long while before returning to find her soundly sleeping. She reached for him when he slid into the bed, and they curled up together, bodies forgiving in the forgetfulness of night.

Chapter Eleven - Prizes won

Once the inebriation of that first night wore off, Sarah was her normal sweeter self. Though that first day, she mostly hung off the rail gazing towards home with a mournful expression. Jack confessed to her that he simply hadn't been able to resist stealing her away like that, and reminded her that he was a pirate. She smiled at that, and said she understood. After that, the battle of lusts was on.

Jack would often hover behind Sarah, letting her feel the heat of his body without quite touching her. He would say things, things that sounded innocent but the look in his eyes and the curve of his lips gave her the double intendre. Watching him eat became near torture, for whenever he caught her looking, he would lick his lips, lick his fingers, and give little satisfied groans of enjoyment.

Not to be outdone, Sarah stole shamelessly from him. Touches and hugs mostly, she adored coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. If he was at the wheel it was even better, for she would stroke his stomach in ever lowering caresses until her fingers were just above the bulge of his trousers. At that point she would press her breasts into his back. Kisses were another thing she stole, in the cabin, under the stairs, in the galley when the crew were distracted by food. The tension was thick with lust between Jack and Sarah. In bed at night, they would often forget themselves, and wake with their hands on each other's bodies; pulling and stroking and groaning until relief was achieved.

It was not enough. By the end of a week, both of them wondered desperately why they were denying themselves. Yet the game went on, for the anticipation was delicious even while nearly unbearable. Sarah distracted herself by throwing herself into the duties of deckhand. Jack, of course, was busy being Captain. And one day, something else distracted them both.

"Sail ahoy!" she called clearly from her perch on the lookout, pointing the direction.

She climbed down while Jack called orders to give chase. She stood near him on the upper deck. Black Pearl slid through the water, humming with excitement as she drew near her prey. Sarah felt the ship's eagerness through the soles of her feet. Jack's hand trembled with excitement where it rested on his pistol butt. They came close enough for Jack to inspect through a spyglass.

He stood quite still for a long time, Sarah just to his left and behind him. Though he must have gotten a good look, what he saw clearly did not please him. At last he lowered the spyglass and sighed, but still said nothing. After a few moments, Sarah gently brushed her fingertips on the back of his hand, silently questioning, What is it?

He half turned his head, spoke two terse words. "Spanish slaver."

Generally speaking, Jack tended to avoid raiding Spanish ships. It suited him to remain on decent terms with that government, particularly since his wife and children sheltered on Spanish shores. He'd already been branded a pirate by the English, through no real fault of his own, and did not wish another king's ransom on his head. However, he loathed and detested slavers, and often went out of his way to attack them. This ship he would be pursuing. By her current position, she was bound for Havana, fresh from the African coast.

A few hours later, they were coming up close to her starboard side. Close enough to see the men aboard her preparing for battle. No easy pickings as it sometimes was for the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow. The black jack was raised, and cannons readied. The other ship fired first, making Jack growl angrily. The men all armed themselves and prepared for battle, including Sarah. He noted that, and pursed his lips thoughtfully, carefully exploring whether or not he wished her to risk her life this time. It was a question he asked himself rather more often than she suspected.

It took him only two seconds to decide that yes, she was allowed this time. He wanted her skill with a sword and a pistol at his back. The Pearl came up alongside, and shots began to be fired between the two crews. Cannon fire boomed, wood splintered. "Grappling hooks, and prepare to board!" Jack called out.

He strode through smoke, grinning madly, flashing his sword before him. Somewhere off to his right Sarah stalked, quieter and less flashy but no less deadly than himself. He noticed without distracting himself at all, that despite her boyish apparel she could never pass for a lad. Not with those breasts that she never bothered to bind, not with that luxurious hair streaming away behind her scarf. Jack grabbed a rope and swung himself over the rail of the enemy slaver ship.

The man before him on the deck was barechested, bald, and sporting gaudy hoop earrings. Jack was tempted to rip them out of his head. The sailor wielded a curved scimitar, no doubt stolen from a slave, and slashed at Jack's legs. Jack blocked his stroke, jumped down from the rail, and engaged him. The other man was heavier and managed to force him back against the rail. Next moment he was stumbling backwards with the hilt of a dagger protruding from his throat and a look of shocked outrage on his face. The Captain knew exactly who had thrown the blade with such precision, and moved further onto the deck without another glance at the dead man.

He was a bit tired when it was all over. He wondered what the captain of the slaver was thinking to not surrender. She was so obviously outgunned, yet the crew had fought with amazing vigor. They must have hoped to take down a few of the pirates with them, for there was no possible way she could have won. The ship was not large enough to be holding cargo that would be worth all their lives. Alas, he could not ask the captain why he'd done it, for he was dead, with Sarah's dagger in his neck.

The slaver's mast was taken down, and about half the crew were dead. The rest were bound hand and foot in a huddled circle. Blood made the footing slippery and the stink of spent gunpowder filled the air. The ship had oars, no need to set the survivors adrift in boats. They would limp, crippled and bereft, into the nearest port. Suddenly he realized that she was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Sarah!" he barked out.

Pintel answered him. "Mrs. Captain is below, sir. Freeing the cargo, as it were."

Jack swung on his heel and went below swiftly. Sarah and Ragetti were indeed unchaining the mass of huddled dark flesh that were suffering in the unspeakable conditions of a slaver's cargo hold. As he suspected, there were not a lot, forty all told. Still, several of them were ill to the point of insensibility. Thankfully there were no children among them. Jack well recalled the first cargo of slaves he'd ever freed. Several children had been in that bunch. Two of them had died, and he'd personally wrapped their bodies, weighted the tiny feet, and tipped the boards that sent them under himself.

"You are all free men, and women, as of this moment." He addressed the dazed slaves. "And you have a choice. You can choose to join my crew and serve aboard a pirate ship, and sign the articles acknowledging me as Captain. Or, I shall take you to Africa and put you back on your own lands. Whichever you choose, you must board my ship at this time. I will await your answer, within a day's time."

While he talked to them, Sarah was searching further back in the hold. There was a wild clucking of chickens as she set the cage aside, bleating of the lone remaining goat as she kicked it out of her way. She bent over a small cage and wrenched open it's door even as her husband moved closer to her. "What have you got, Sarah love?"

"The reason they fought so hard," she answered, intently reaching into the cage to draw forth a bundle of fur.

Jack stared in disbelief at the cub, obviously a cheetah but with black stripes running along it's back and very dark spots peppering it's sides. In all his travels he'd never seen a cat like that. "Animal like that would certainly fetch a high price. A very high price."

"We must set him free Jack," Sarah told him firmly. She held the cub protectively close to her chest. It was mewing pathetically. "Once it's cured of seasickness, and has something to eat. Poor baby's half starved!"

"He?" Jack raised an amused eyebrow at her mothering of the baby hunting cat, the fastest on earth.

"Indeed Jack. He!" With an unrepentant grin, she held up the cub so he could clearly see between it's legs and under it's tail. "And 'he' will be coming with us, to be freed with the others in Africa."

She went back up onto the deck, and moved immediately to the big bald brute she'd killed earlier. Sarah quickly stripped him of the pouch around his waist, pulled his rings off his fingers, and removed his gold hoop earrings. Jack watched her efficiency with a bemused expression. She had several piercings in her ears, she probably would wear those earrings. However, the only rings Sarah donned was the one he gave her at their wedding, a ring of emerald set in gold, and an onyx in white gold made to resemble dragon's claws holding the black jewel.

When her eyes and hands strayed possesively towards the wickedly curved sword, Jack spoke up. "Fancy the scimitar love? You sighted the ship, you get first pick of weapons, after meself and Gibbs. Pirate's Code says so. Ye want it, it's yours."

"Thank you Captain," she gave him a brilliant smile. The scabbard was splashed with blood, and Sarah removed it carefully, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She'd not made such a moue of disgust even while unfastening the chains of those wretched souls below, though the stench had been awful. But this slaver sickened her far more.

When she stepped back onto the Pearl with her feline prize, Cotton's new parrot, which had taken to perching on his head despite his best efforts to get it to stay on his shoulder, flapped it's wings mightily. The cub in Sarah's arms cringed. "Mala nina!" (Bad girl!) The bird shrieked.

Jack blinked, his lips twitched. Casting a sidelong glance at Sarah, he drawled, "I do believe that bird might be getting the hang of it after all, Mr. Cotton."

He tended to the needs of the ex-slaves while Sarah went to the galley to find scraps of meat and goat's milk for the cub. Later, he went to his cabin to fetch some charts, and found her sprawled on the bed watching the cub wash himself. The little cat scrubbed contentedly at a paw, stomach rounded out and soft purrs issuing from his throat. Sarah had washed the stink of battle from her face and arms and changed into a more feminine blouse. She looked utterly ravishing in her indolent pose, a look of soft enjoyment on her face as she watched the cub.

Jack wanted her instantly, and dammed the fact that he must wait another week before having her. He banged the door shut, causing the sleepy cat to jump in startlement. Sarah flicked lazy eyes towards him. "Careful Jack, or I'll set my pussy to you," she murmured huskily. "And this one has claws." She giggled.

Chapter Twelve - Lessons and Questions

Mother and daughter ruled the island in whatever fashion pleased them best. Currently, Calypso and Joie were in human form. The goddess resembled the form she'd been bound in for years, it being one she was comfortable with. Joie, well, Joie resembled her father, not being able to help that at all. She was learning how to be stealthy; how to turn so dim as to be near invisible, how to teleport from one place to another, how to use the surrounding waters to camaflouge herself. The little minx had vanished utterly from her mother's sight. Calypso narrowed her eyes, recalling the bored look in her daughter's eyes when they'd begun this final exercise.

Casting her voice to broadcast all over the island and in the immediate vincinity, Calypso called her child. "Why don'cha tell me when we get to da part of the lesson dat's new?"

It was a sheepish looking girl that floated up above the trees, from the lagoon. Though chronologically she was only four years old, her body was maturing at an accelerated rate, so in appearance and mental alertness she was more like an human eight year old. Levitating to her mother, she settled on the ground before her and looked abashed. Calypso crossed her arms. "Ya been knowing how to do dat already?"

Joie nodded slowly. "Been going off explorin' on your own, den? Been to see your fadder, I take it? William Turner?"

Joie nodded again, peeking up at her mother through her long blond eyelashes. "You angry with me, Mama?"

Calypso smiled, shaking her head no. "You're curious 'bout him, nothing strange about dat." She cocked her head questioningly. "What do he say 'bout it?"

Joie smiled her Turner smile, lighting up her whole face. "He says he loves me."

Her mother blinked a bit at that, a crafty smile on her face and the wheels of her mind turning. She felt kindly towards Captain Turner, he'd been an honorable and good Ferryman. Due to that, and the child they'd made together, there would always be a bond between them. But Calypso was also bound, by the agreements she'd made. "You're MY child Joie, don't be forgettin' dat! William might love you, but he gave you to me so I would let him have his own family."

Joie looked surprised. The two sat together, on the black sands of the beach, feet washed by the surf as they talked. "He said he gave me to you as a gift. Did he give those two boys to the other lady too?"

"He gave Elizabeff dose fine sons because she his true love. He would not have me, could not love me da same way."

The child nodded and looked thoughtful. "True love like Jack and Sarah have?"

Calypso was startled. "How you knowin' 'bout dose two, child?"

She shrugged, absent mindedly swirling her finger in the waters. Without realizing she was exercising her power, Joie accidentally re-animated two corpses of sailors lying several yards offshore. "I've seen them, when they sail together. Everything around them lights up."

"Witty Jack be sumpin special, all right. Born in a hurricane, touched by da finger of Poseidon himself." Calypso stared at the skeletons whose flesh was knitting around them. As soon as they had lungs to draw in air with, they began to scream in agony. It startled Joie considerably, who stopped what she was doing. The goddess waved a hand and abolished the spell, sending them back to their blessedly painless and silent watery grave. 

Her daughter looked guiltily at her. "Oops, I guess I need to grow up a little more before I do that."

She put an arm around her child and they sat merely enjoying each other's company. Calypso was fondly remembering her time with Jack, and was unprepared for the next question. Like all little ones, her curiosity was insatiable. "Am I the only gift you have, Mama?"

The immortal being twitched in surprise. It took her several moments to regain her composure enough to answer. "You da only one dat matter, Joie de Mer."

Joie caught the unspoken hint and pressed eagerly. "But there is another? Another like me?"

A tingle of very human insecurity rushed through Calypso. She didn't want to lose her precious daughter. Joie was her perfect companion. Uncertainly she answered, "Dey is, but he too much like his fadder. A quicksilver trickster."

"Where is he now?" Joie was now sculpting the sand into a miniature replica of the Black Pearl. A sand figure of Jack appeared on the top of the mainsail.

"I don't know." It was the truth, but not all of it. That tale she was not ready for.

Joie lost her interest in the conversation after that, and amused herself by tossing seashells at her sand sculpture. Calypso felt her fear recede. All was still well with her world.
 

"
 

(link to Rochester poem) http://www.daypoems.net/poems/405.html Chapters 13-16