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The Only Rules That Matter (TheCorsair, Madame Mim)

John made little gasping and whimpering sounds as he drove himself harder into his wife, gripping her hips and breast with bruising force. "J-j-jenny!" he gasped in time with the movements of his hips. "God! Jenny! So... fucking... good!" He leaned over her, sliding his hands up her body and down her arms as he bit the nape of her neck. His hands locked with hers, pinning them to the edge of the bar as he pounded into her, sweat-slick chest and stomach pressed against her ass and back. "Fuck... Jenny," he whimpered in her ear, staring at the sight of her in the mirror.


Ben knew he should leave. He shouldn't be watching this. He shouldn't be standing on the streets of Dover, peering into the window of the Anchor and rubbing his cock through his breeches while a stranger fucked his Jenny and she writhed and postured like a whore for him. He shouldn't be imagining himself in the stranger's place, pounding her deep and hard like the slut she clearly was and listening to her beg him for more. He shouldn't feel his breath becoming short, his cock growing harder as the stranger plowed Jenny bent over like a wanton whore, and...

And... oh God... he... he shouldn't...



The orgasm caught him off guard, and his face convulsed as if in agony for a moment as the first pulse of semen flooded into her. It was too intense to cry out, leaving him able only to shudder and gasp as he spent himself into her womb. His teeth scraped the flesh of her neck and shoulders, leaving marks as the sensation of the spurts of cum he pumped into her became too intense to handle. Finally, gasping and blowing like he'd run a marathon, he slumped across her. "My God, Jenny," he whispered, clumsily finding her lips with his. "God I love you."
 
Jenny tried to keep up but she just couldn't. They were both too desperate, it had been too long. She leaned back against his chest, leaning her head on his shoulder as he rocked her body with his own. A bead of sweat formed at her neck and ran down between her breasts as they both stared at the mirror. It was incredibly sexy, being somewhat in public and watching themselves like that. Jenny gasped for air as John pounded into her harder and harder.

John's climax seemed to catch him off-guard, and it did her too. Jenny gasped in surprise as he came inside her. Finally, at long last, after so long, the joy and completion of her husband cumming inside her caused yet another, smaller orgasm to shudder throughout her body. As John slumped across her, she slumped over the bar, depending on the wood to keep her up anymore.

"I love you too, John," she whimpered back, finding his lips and pressing hers clumsily to them. "God I love you so much!" As Jenny caught her breath, she leaned against the wood of the bar and looked around. "I really wish I hadn't told Da we'd finish cleaning..." she moaned, lacing her fingers with Johns on top of the bar.
 
Every muscle in his body trembled and ached, and he thoroughly enniyed it. Slumped against Jenny's back, he laziky stroked her arms and fingers while he nuzzled her neck and gently kissed her. "I," he murmured, "am well and utterly exhausted."

"I really wish I hadn't told Da we'd finish cleaning..." was Jenny's answer.

John groaned in mock horror. "If we promised, we promised," he finally said. "Just... give me a minute. To catch my breath." He rubbed his cheek afainst her shoulder, letting her feel his stubble gently scrape and his moustache and goatee tickle her skin. Then, with a final kiss, he firced himself to stand up. "If you're ready, we should get to work."

He stood for a minute, admiring the play of lamplight and shadow over her skin and hair. Then he gave her a crooked little smile. "But... don't get dressed," he told her, licking his lips. "For I'm curious how rum would taste, if I lap it from your skin..."


She was a whore. She was nothing more than a common dockside whore.

Ben stumbled away from the Anchor, mind reeling, a telltale wet stain slreading on his crotch. Hiw could she? She... he'd thought her special. Thought she was... pure. Perfect. And he'd just watched her rutting like an animal, ass in the air and legs spread for some common ruffian.

And heaven help him, he wanted her even more. Somehow, knowing that - if he could work up the nerve- she'd suck his cock and let him fuck her for a handfull of coins just made him want her more. Made him want to hold her down, want to hear her beg him to pound her ass and her cunt and...

Lost in his thoughts, he worked his way home.
 
Jenny nodded at her husband's request. She, too, needed a minute. The room felt like it was spinning under the power of her orgasms and her shortness of breath. She giggled at the tickle of his mustache and looked over her shoulder at him. She wasn't quite certain what to think of this facial hair.

"I hope you don't plan on kissing me with that scratchy thing," she warned with a smile before gingerly turning around. "Or if you do, shave the rest first. Stubble is scratchy. The children won't even recognize their own father." She giggled against his final kiss and straightened up with a groan. "Aye..." Jenny reached for her shirt, but stopped when her husband told her to and returned his crooked smile. "Mmm...I like the way you think, John Sparrow."

Tables were wiped down, floors swept, the bar cleaned, and all but one lamp put out, which they would take with them. Jenny stepped up to her husband, pressing her bare breasts against John's and grinning. She felt drunk with the love and joy possessing her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Well well, Mr. Sparrow," she said in a husky voice, "am I allowed to put me shirt back on? Or would you make your loving, faithful wife walk home half-naked? Hm?"
 
John had, of course, helped clean the anchor more than once. But never in so delightfully distracting a way. There was something exhilarating about walking nude in a public house - he'd elected to kick his trousers off, rather than pull them up - and Jenny, of course, took pains to pose and posture in ways that nearly made him throw aside his work. But at the end, the common area was tidy and neat and ready for the next day.

When Jenny slipped up against him, pressing her half-bare body against his completely bare one, his reaction was mixed. His arms slid around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he sighed in contentment at the feel of his wife in his arms. His cock, however, twitched and hardened and announced that contentment was far from the only thing on his mind.

"Well well, Mr. Sparrow," she said in a husky voice, "am I allowed to put me shirt back on? Or would you make your loving, faithful wife walk home half-naked? Hm?"

"Oh, would you like that Ms. Sparrow?" he replied, voice lowering an octave as he spoke. "Would you like parading through Dover, bare to the world? Feeling the wind and the darkness caressing your skin like a lover, knowing I was watching you?" His hands slid over her bare back as he savored the feel of her smooth skin. "Knowing that, at any moment, I might claim my right as your husband out where anyone could see us?"
 
She grinned. "Mmm you know I'd love that," Jenny purred, closing her eyes and focusing on the feel of his calloused hands against the smooth of her back. "Out where all the world could see our love, shameless in front of God and man." She leaned her forehead against his chest. "The sea's made a poet out of you, methinks. And that's Missus Sparrow to you." She grinned again and pinched his side teasingly.

They knew it was all talk. Sure, no one was really about at this time of night except the drunkards, whores, and other such ruffians. But still if someone saw the respectable Mrs. Jenny Sparrow walking through the streets, breasts out like some streetwalker...they'd have to leave town. Maybe even the country. It would have been a nice little kink to experiment with...but England wasn't the place for exhibitionists. Hugging John around the ribs she sighed and leaned her cheek against his chest.

"The kids are safe tonight," she murmured. "Let's go home, John. Let me love you. The bed's been so cold."
 
John hugged her close, her words filling his blood with a pleasant warmth. This was what he'd missed at sea. Not just the sex, although God knew he'd missed thar, but the warm feeling of loving and being loved. "I'll always let you love me, Jenny," he sighed. "I don't know what I did to be so lucky, but I thank God daily that I am."

He held her a minute longer, unwilling to lose her closeness. Then, reluctantly, he released her. "Now then, Missus Sparrow," he chuckled, swatting her behibd playfully, "let's see if we can't find our clothes. It's a cool night out."

Really, though, finding the clothes wasn't difficult. They'd just pilrd them on a table. Soon John was dressed - tricorn on his head, vest over his loose shirt, and swordbelt buckled round his waist. He also took Jenny's panties, laughing as ne stuffed them in his bag. "I assure you, love," he told her,"you've no need for your knickers tonight."

Finally, shouldering his bag and grabbing a bottle of rum, he held out his hand. "Are you ready? Because I plan to spend our walk trying to tell you how much I love you. And I fear we've a long and sleepless night of chores ahead of us." He held a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "Because it will, I fear, take a great deal of time and effort to ensure our cold bed is warm enough for you."
 
Jenny grinned and followed John's lead, grabbing her shirt and bodice and pulling them both on. Her stomach growled somewhat loudly, having given up her dinner for the children, but she pretended not to have heard it. She'd grown somewhat leaner, less soft, in the month or so since Captain Teague had reported back to tell her that her husband was on his way home. She reached for her knickers but found them snatched from her grasp at the last second.

"Oi...!" But she couldn't help but smile when John insisted she wouldn't need them.

The walk home was far too long, but the night was longer and that was alright with Jenny. She spent it in the loving embrace of her husband, the soft sighs and moans of lovemaking audible throughout the empty cottage. By the end of the night--which had bled into the early morning just before dawn--she was breathless from their exertions and a little sore from the new positions she had managed to bend herself into. For the first time in what most certainly felt like forever, Jenny Sparrow fell asleep in the warmth of her husband's arms, in the bed they'd spent their first night together and where they would spend their last.

The sun was up when Jenny opened her eyes. Panic gripped her heart for a moment: the children needed to have been woken and fed at the very least an hour ago, and she was late for work, and...and...and last night hadn't been a dream. She took a slow deep breath as she felt John's strong arms around her and smiled. He was home! And he would stay home this time! Slowly she rolled over and kissed him gently awake.

"Good morning my love," she murmured quietly. "As much as I would love to laze about in bed all day, I'm afraid I'm late to go earn us a living. Besides, I know of four children who would love very much to see their father."
 
The rest of the night was less aggressive, but no less pleasurable. Long hours of exploration, touching and kissing and caressing that built to peaks of pleasure as the two relearned each other. Finally, exhausted, JackJohn fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Jenny. His dreams were pleasant and nothing he particularly remembered. All he could have told about them was that they were flavored with the warmth and softness of his bed and his wife.

Her first kiss, gentle and flavorful, woke him. He didn't admit he was awake until the third, however.

"Good morning my love," she murmured quietly. "As much as I would love to laze about in bed all day, I'm afraid I'm late to go earn us a living. Besides, I know of four children who would love very much to see their father."

"Morning, love," he murmured back, gently stroking her hair. The sunlight streaming through the window caught it, making gold and flame dance in the red curls. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her down gently into a slightly more ambitious kiss. "Who said we'd laze about in bed..?" he whispered with a grin.

His stomach chose that moment to rumble and gurgle audibly. Laughing, he kissed her again. "You're probably right, at that. At least, I know of a father who would very much love to see his four children."

He kissed her once more, than pushed himself upright in bed. Glancing around, he took in the sight of their clothing strewn across the floor and out into the living room. The rest of the night might not have been as aggressive as things had been in the Anchor, but that hadn't made everything gentle. "And, perhaps, we should pick up a little."
 
Jenny sat up slowly, groaning and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "John Sparrow, you'll be the death of me," she complained with a smile as she stretched. "Or at least of my back. You certainly know how to make me ache."

She grinned and giggled at the sight of their clothes strewn across the floor, trailing out into the living room. It reminded her strongly of their wedding night, of the exploration that had happened in this bed and of the loving creation of each of their beautiful children. Slowly she slid out of bed and began tugging at the sheets and blanket.

"Why don't you start breakfast and I'll make the bed," she suggested, unspeakably grateful to have a helpmate again. "Then we'll pick up our clothes, hm?" Jenny glanced up through the messy curls falling over her face and grinned at him. "And maybe wash that goop off of your face. I dunno what it is but it'll scare the babies. Anne will at least be pleased you've found such creative use for her beads, though." She reached over and teasingly tugged at his goatee, still unsure whether she liked it.

When Jenny was done making the bed she stooped and grabbed up each article of clothing as she walked out into the living room. She was still tender from the night before, causing her to walk a little stiffly, and was only half dressed by the time she sat at the table. She looked sleepy but happy, and less tired than she had in months. It was good to finally have her husband home.
 
"Oh, I plan to be the death of you, Jenny Sparrow. Lots and lots of little deaths." Grinning, John reached for her and made a show of missing and falling face-first in the bed as she slid out. When she began trying to make the bed and suggested he make breakfast, though, he dragged himself to his feet. "Sure. Let me see what we've got. And tbe goop is kohl - I use... used... it to cut the glare of the sun."

He chuckled as she tugged at his goatee. "She probably will, yes. Maybe I'll keep it for a few more days, before I decide if I'm shaving it."

Pulling on his trousers, he kissed Jenny (along with some playful groping) and wandered out into the kitchen. After getting a fire started, he poked through the pantry and frowned at how bare it was. Months without his wages had clearly made things tough on his family.

By the time Jenny joined him - fetchingly half-dressed and tousled ' he had two bowls of porridge ready. "I've got a few more days of leave," he said, joining her at the table. "And then, Monday, I'll be starting as a shipping clerk at the Company warehouse." Be reached across the table and took his wife's hands. "It won't be as much as I earned as Supercargo, but I won't have to go back to sea."

He smiled at that, and told himself that the distant sound of Tia Dalma's laughter was just his imagination.
 
Jenny had giggled at her husband's prat falls, glad that he seemed to quickly be getting back to his old self. She frowned at his explanation of the black crap around his eyes though and cocked her head to the side. "What you mean, just grab a lump out of a the stove or somethin?" she asked, her untrained ears not hearing the difference between 'kohl' and 'coal.' "Sounds like a good way to just get your face dirty to me."

Still she shrugged it off as John pulled her in for a kiss and a playful tease. Once she had finished making the bed and wandered out, half-dressed, she eased herself into a chair and smiled sleepily at him. God how she'd missed something as simple as eating breakfast with her husband! Jenny squeezed his hands as he explained the situation and she nodded. She didn't care that they wouldn't make as much; she never wanted him out at sea again!

"I don't care," she insisted. "You'll be home for supper every night and I don't have to worry about getting another letter just to know you aren't dead. The children and me, we've made do on our own the past month or two. It'll just be a blessing to have your wages in the house again." Jenny leaned forward and kissed her husband, savoring the taste of his lips again, before picking up her spoon and starting on her porridge.

The Shadow Thing had rarely followed Jack on his adventures out to sea, but now that he was home it seemed to have made itself a permanent fixture in the corner of his eye. It snickered along with Tia Dalma, knowing what was coming.
 
Days passed into weeks, and soon enough months were gone by. Slowly, John stopped reaching for his sword belt as he dressed, and got used to not smearing his eyes with kohl, and even shaved his beard and cut his hair again. The work at the warehouse was interesting, although he had to keep himself from staring out to sea and daydreaming, and being with his family again was a delight beyond description. Every evening he'd stop by the Anchor to collect his wife and children, walking home hand in hand with them. Jack Sparrow, it seemed, had finally retreated back into the shadows.

Although he couldn't seem to lose the rolling gait he'd adopted onboard ship. No matter what he did, he swayed and wobbled a little as he moved. And, upon occasion, the sound of the surf on the beach seemed to call his name.

Jack - his son - was delighted to have his father home once more. He demanded that his father take him hunting and fishing, and teach him to use a sword. Most evenings, after dinner, the sound of wood clacking against wood could be heard outside the family home as John and Jack fenced back and forth. And the meat and fish they brought home helped supplement their meals - money was tight, tighter than he'd like, but it was still worth it.

Anne sat on the sidelines as her brother and father fenced, waving a stick and mimicking their movements as best she could while unable to leave her seat. John included her in the lessons, to the dismay of his mother-in-law, but they frequently degenerated into laughter and tickling at that point. The twins seemed to find it all incomprehensible, and also resented the way he no longer had sparkling beads hanging from his facial hair. But they gurgled and cooed at him, and soon enough added cries of "Da! Da!" to their growing vocabulary.

One evening, after the children had been put to bed, JackJohn sat down in a chair next to Jenny and picked up a boot he was repairing. "I was thinking," he announced, eying the patch critically. "Halloween's coming up. Think we could talk your parents into watching the kids?" He gave her a wink. "We never did find that ghost, after all..."
 
Summer wore on and became fall and Jenny noticed John becoming his old self again. He didn't seem like he felt out of place in an actual home, or as though he'd rather be somewhere else. Every evening on his way home he stopped by the Anchor. They walked hand-in-hand, a twin each and Anne often on his shoulders, Jack bouncing happily along at their side. Although the feeling of being watched surreptitiously never faded, she still felt much safer walking home now with her husband by her side.

The only indication that he had ever left soon became that swaggering, staggering gait he'd adopted aboard the ship. Jenny often teased him about it, declaring that people were starting to call him the town drunk even though they weren't. But if that was all that was left at his time at sea, she would be more than happy to let it continue.

The children took every advantage of their father's change of profession. Jack bonded with his father quickly, idolizing him and taking every opportunity to mimick him including, Jenny had noticed, that peculiar way of walking. It made her smile, though she did make sure to correct him when he was without John. Anne and the twins, too, reveled in the sudden return of the man of the house. For the first time in years John would home for Anne's birthday and Jenny prayed each night that she would make it. The doctor had said it would be a miracle if she lived to three, and here she would be four next month even as her health gradually declined. The awful, wracking cough came back and she seemed to have a harder time lifting herself with her crutches. A kind wood carver--a friend of theirs--had made crutches for her with braces attached to strap to her legs, giving her some semblance of independence. These days, though, even that seemed too much and she often settled for her wheeled cart which was less exertion.

Still despite her failing health Anne seemed to flourish a little more under the loving gaze of her father. Jenny often sat on the sidelines with the toddlers, watching them play and smiling at how father and brother both included her in their games. She knew her mother didn't approve, but Jenny was of the personal opinion that a girl ought to at least have some idea how to defend herself. Mary was often flustered when Michael backed her up on this, having seen the way men leered at his daughter and promptly taught her what to do should one of them go too far. John clearly knew how to handle a sword now, so what was the harm in teaching Anne? Just because she couldn't walk didn't mean she should be helpless.

A week before Halloween Jenny was sitting on the sofa, darning socks and smiling as she listened to bedtime stories coming from the other room. Jack was growing up fast, but he still wasn't too old for stories. John pulled his chair up next to her and picked up his boot. She grinned at his suggestion, but the shadows cast by the fire seemed to flicker ominously.

"Johnathan Sparrow you know what happens up there," she chided playfully. "Do you want another mouth to feed?" Jenny looked up, a smile glittering in her eyes. "I'm sure they will, but if we tell them where we're going you might have to sneak me out my bedroom window again."
 
"As I recall, Jenny," John replied with a sly grin, "sneaking you out of your bedroom was the best part."

He scratched his head, and made a show of examining the boot. "Well, except for the rest of the evening. Except for, you know, when I fell down the stairs. But we know where they are, this time."

After a moment's thought, he placed the boot down next to him and then turned to face his wife. "But let's do it. I mean, how often do we get to go and do something silly and romantic?" Reaching out, he tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her ear and then let his fingertips brush down her cheek. "We can pack some food and a bottle of wine, go scare ourselves silly jumping at shadows, and then eat a late dinner in the woods overlooking the harbor."
 
Jenny returned her husband's grin at the memory of their first attempt at spotting the ghost. "Yes, now we know where they are," she agreed. "I remember quite fondly the next year when we found the same room. You know, that adventure that started our little family?" She grinned again. That castle was connected to many memories, none of them something to shiver in fear at.

When John reiterated his desire to go to the castle she nodded. "Of course, love. I'll talk to Ma and Da about it tomorrow. It's been a while since we've been out just the two of us." She leaned against his hand as his fingertips ran down her cheek. "Not that it hasn't been wonderful having you home every night," she added, catching one of his fingertips with a kiss. "I do miss it being just us two sometimes. I'm looking forward to it. Maybe with enough wine we will see the ghost." She laughed lightly and returned to darning a sock.
 
"I've been to sea, love," John laughed. "With enough wine, we can see anything." Shifting a candle to shed more light on his work, he went back to work on the sole of his boot. Out of the corner of his eye, one of the shadows seemed to shift in a way that couldn't be explained by the flickering of the candle flame. He glanced sharply towards it, eyes scanning the room. If his Shadow Thing was here, he didn't see it.

He glanced towards the doors that led to the room that Anne and the twins shared, and to Jack's little room. Did the shadows seem to shift, right over there? He wasn't sure.

Putting the boot down, he picked up the candlestick. "I'm just going to go and look in on them," John said, rising. "It's been so long since I could do that, after all." Then, crossing the room, he caught a little of the dripping wax and rolled it until it formed a tacky ball. He flattened it on the doorknob as he turned it, then used his thumbnail to impress a little cross in it as the wax clung. "Three holy kings, four holy saints," he whispered as he looked in at the sleeping figures of his daughters, "at heaven's high gate that stand, speak out to bid all evil wait and stir no foot or hand . . . "

He pulled the door shut, and repeated the ritual at Jack's door. In his mind, he seemed to hear something snarl in frustration. With a shudder, he leaned against the frame. You can't have them, he thought, angrily. Ever.
 
Jenny frowned slightly when John rose, but her features softened and she smiled when he explained that all he wanted to do was look in on them. When he opened the door one of the twins turned over in her crib. Anne coughed that loud, wracking, painful cough that made Jenny's own chest hurt in sympathy. The girl seemed so used to it by now that it rarely ever woke her, though on particularly bad nights it would wake Jenny across the house. Mrs. Sparrow heard her husband whispering, but couldn't make out what he was saying. It sounded like prayer which, knowing his previously tenuous-at-best relationship with the Mother Church, made her smile. All was right at home in the Nest.

The following week was All Hallow's Eve. Jenny's parents had no problem watching the children, though she'd been met with a disapproving look when she was truthful about where they were going. She had never been any good at lying so she no longer even tried. And besides, it was a sin. Ben Halliwell was in the pub when she started wrapping up, and she caught his confused look as she pulled off her apron.

"Gettin' off early tonight," she explained with a smile and cheeks flushed in excitement. "John's taking me back up to the castle; we're going to try to see the ghost again. I know it sound silly but...well, it's somewhat of a tradition and he's finally going to be home again this time."

Jenny had noticed Ben's attitude toward her had cooled somewhat, but only somewhat. He was still plenty friendly enough and occasionally offered to walk her home again, seeming to forget that John was home once more. It was a good relationship, she felt; one she would have expected of a proper brother-in-law. He was probably a little distant because John was home and she no longer needed someone to keep as close an eye on her now she had her husband back.
 
"I can't believe you're taking her back up to the Castle," Michael Dolan said, wiping down the counter. "Particularly tonight of all nights."

John laughed, and finished off the small beer he'd ordered while waiting for Jenny to finish up. "Seems to me, that there's no better night to do it than tonight. Of all nights."

Michael shook his head. "It's a bad night to be out, John - the devil rides out on All Hallows Eve. Better if you two stayed home."

John smiled at that. "We've done it before, and the only thing we've met is wandering cats. I'd be far more worried about isolated covered bridges than the good clean spaces of the Dour, if I were to fear meeting the devil."

His father-in-law favored him with an inquiring look. "And what d'you mean by that?"

"Nothing much," he responded, choosing not to discuss the Horseman he'd fled from a few years ago. "Just that, the Dour is wide open land. Plenty of room to watch out on." He handed his mug back. "Anyway, looks like Jenny's done. We'll see you in the morning."

He turned to join his wife, who was talking to Ben - the sight of whom sent complicated mixed emotions coursing through his veins - and a strong hand caught his arm. He turned back, and Michael pressed something into his hand. "You're still a stupid and willful boy, John Sparrow," he said. "Be safe. And keep my daughter safe, or I'll skin you."

John glanced at the object in his hand. It was a rosary, carved of stone with a little stone cross. He looked back at his father in law, and nodded. "I will, sir. I will."

Stuffing the rosary in his pocket, he came up behind Jenny and slid his arms around her waist. "Ready to go, love?"
 
Jenny grinned when she felt John's arm around her waist. It was nice to feel those small public displays of affection again. She leaned against him slightly, enjoying the lack of whispers and rumors that her husband had run off or that they'd secretly divorced.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ben," she said with a smile and a small wave, turning and taking John's hand. "So Da really let you take me up to the castle, on All Hallow's Eve, without so much as a threat?" She shook her head, disbelieving.

The night was clear and the moon was full this night. Crickets sang as they walked through the woods, though a chill ran up Jenny's spine. She often creeped herself out easily in instances like this, but that was part of the thrill. And in the light of morning it was always fun to figure out what had been real and what was her imagination.
 
The sight of Ben Halliwell was, to John, a mixture of confusing emotions. The man had been like a brother to him for the years of his apprenticeship - they'd grown up together, worked together, gotten into fights together, and helped each other out. But that fond memory was laced with the hard-edged resentment that came with the actions of Master Christopher Halliwell throwing him out on Christmas Eve. So, confused, he forced himself to smile. "Evening, Ben," he said. "I heard you were watching Jenny while I was gone."

Ben gave an odd little start. John shrugged it off, realizing that the other man was expecting that to turn into a fight. "Thanks," he said. "I... well... I have my differences with your father. But... I hope we're still friends?"

After a moment's hesitation, Ben nodded. "Sure."

"Glad to hear it!" And then Jenny turned in his arms, and took his hand. "So Da really let you take me up to the castle, on All Hallow's Eve, without so much as a threat?" She shook her head, disbelieving.[/i[

"I think it's more of a case of realizing that the only way to stop me would be to lock you up, or tie me up." John grinned, opening the door for his wife. "And look how well sending you to your room on All Hallow's Even has worked in the past."

He caught her hand again, carrying the basket of food that he'd brought in the other, and walked with her through the dark, quiet streets of Dover. Soon enough the buildings became sparser and finally gave way to rolling hills as the road wound up through a stand of trees that was too dense to be a 'copse' and not quite large enough to really be a forest. Wind blew, and the gibbous moon - nearly full - glowed like silver in the night sky.

"Of course," John said, releasing her hand to draw the rosary from his pocket, "he made me take this. For protection, I guess, against the forces of darkness. I can't say I'm really worried about that - given how many times we've seen Old Scratch out here. But..." With a chuckle, he tucked the stone cross and beads into her blouse, letting his fingers stray just a little. "If we do need protection, I'd rather see you safe."


Ben watched the tavern door close, staring and suppressing the shakes. Does he know? he thought, wildly. Does John know she's a whore? That she spread herself for some sailor the very day he came back to Dover?

He swallowed his beer. God, does he know I was watching her? That I pleasured myself while watching her? And then a new thought intruded, one that made his eyes go wide. What if... does he know? His mother was a whore! Maybe... maybe he wants her to be a whore. He's her pimp, isn't he? My god, doe he fuck her after she finishes with other men? Fuck her with their seed on spilling down her thighs and staining her clothes?

The line of thought made him suddenly hard, and he swilled down the rest of his beer.
 
Jenny grinned. She was twenty-six, but her father sometimes still seemed to have a hard time letting go. She was, after all, his only daughter. It was perfectly understandable. She nudged him gently, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Well maybe a combination of the two will do the trick," she suggested wryly. "We'll lock ourselves in my room and tie you up, see if that works." She giggled and skipped for a couple steps a they came out of the trees and into the clearing before the castle. The fresh autumn air was lovely and she felt almost like a teenager again. John pulled the rosary out of his pocket, however, and her eyebrows rose.

"Of course he made me take this. For protection, I guess, against the forces of darkness. I can't say I'm really worried about that - given how many times we've seen Old Scratch out here. But..." She made a noise as her husband tucked the rosary into her blouse, letting his fingers stray over her breasts. "If we do need protection, I'd rather see you safe."

"John!" Jenny fished the rosary from her cleavage before tucking it away in her pocket. After all, it was not jewelry to be worn. "This rosary's been in my family for six generations. My Granddad's granddad's granddad had it blessed by the Pope himself. A little respect," she chided, peering sideways at him before gaining a less stern expression. "Although, I don't expect to come across any demons either. Just careful on them stairs, hey?" She cracked a small smile, unaware that they were approaching the very place John had first met his Shadow Thing.
 
"Oh, of a certainty I'll be careful on the stairs," John grinned. "I've noyhing against a tumble, mind, but..."

Clouds sculled across the face of the gibbous moon as tgey reached the shadows of the outer wall, and the wind moaned softly as it blew in from the harbor. There really was, John new, no objectively good reason why they shoukd be doing this. None other than sentimentality, at any rate. And arguably, it was stupid - teenagers caught doing this might justget returned to their parents. Bur adults? They could be looking at arrest.

Still, maybe it was that very fact - combined with memories - that made this fun.

John boosted Jenny up the wall, taking time to get in a good grope of her rear, then swarmed up the wall after her. Both of them moved to stand in the shadows of the crenellations, reducing the chance that a casual observer on the inner wall would see them, and hecwrapped his arms around her waist.

"Look at that," he whispered, voice warm on her ear. Dover stretched out below them, lamp lights glittering in a few windows. Beyond, moonlight struck silver highlights on the waves and rippled on the expanse of the Channel.
 
Jenny gripped the wall and wedged one foot into a crack, pushing herself up. It didn't keep her husband from boosting her up and getting a good feel, of course. She grinned and nudged him once he was up on the wall, following him into the shadows. With the moon so large and bright it really wasn't the ideal night to be sneaking around up here. After all, if they got caught...well, she didn't like to think of the dressing-down they'd get from Michael. But it was for sentiment, mostly, and for a bit of fun. They deserved that after the last couple of years.

"It's beautiful." Jenny shivered at the warm breath on her ear and leaned back against John's chest. "I wish we could stay out here all night."

They couldn't, however, and they both knew it. After a while they moved into the safety of the dark room they'd found years before, confident that nobody ever came here. Jenny fished out some candles and lit them, handing one to John and holding one herself. She looked up at him eagerly.

"So where to now?" John was always the one with the plan. He always seemed to know what to do; Jenny had never been great at improvising.
 
"Where to now?" John echoed, raising a candle and looking around. Then he laughed. "Well, I know where I'd like to go..." he declared, running his gaze over Jenny's figure, "but this isn't the best place for that." A smile. "No matter what I might have thought at sixteen."

Carefully, he approached the stairs. Even now, with light in the room and knowing where they were, the memories of that long-ago tumble down the stairs sent a frission of fear through his gut. The memory of the fall, and what had happened after.

"Officially, we're here to look for a ghost. Right?" He grinned at her, teeth white in the candlelight, and extended a hand. "So, shall we look in the cellar?"
 
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