Jessamy Beech Ch. 15: Mull

Hamnavoe looked troubled, "All Aubrey needs is an accurate set o' coordinates to input verbally and Soteria Lite'll still function, JB. It's an inconvenience for 'im... but nae bother."

Jessamy thought for a moment, "And where might he get those coordinates?"

"Google would ha' been the obvious choice thirty years ago. But now any large scale Ordnance Survey map'll do the trick."

Jessamy huffed, "So we're gonna have to get to Mull in three days to stop him," she shrugged on her jacket.

"Wait! Where are you going Jess?" Merida asked.

"I'm gonna sail up there in the Lupita. It's the only way. Over land is impossible what with the Reivers in control of the west coast. I'll sail up around John O' Groats and Cape Wrath."

"That's gotta be five or six hundred miles by sea. It'll take longer than three days Jess," Ross butted in.

"Maybe so. But I at least have to fucking try!"

Ross let out a long sigh, accepting that once Jessamy had made a decision, nothing was going to dissuade her, "Well... don't go too close in to shore until you're past Edinburgh. Our scouts have reported increased Reekie activity along the coast. They've been spotted as far south as St Abbs."

Jessamy nodded. She had no intention of tangling with the subhuman denizens of what had once been Edinburgh a second time.

"Nairn is still safe if you need to resupply," Merida continued, "Brora too. But stay clear of Wick. They had a cholera epidemic last we heard."

Jessamy nodded, "We better get going."

An hour later, Jessamy and Hamnavoe boarded the freshly provisioned Lupita - the little yacht they'd rescued from a Looe boatyard. They'd only been in Berwick Upon Tweed for a little over twelve hours. Their farewells were emotional, but out of necessity short. Merida hugged Ada close to her as Jessamy's youngest daughter bawled inconsolably. Of Phoebe Beech there was no sign.

"She never did like me going away for months at a time," Jessamy explained, "she won't want to say goodbye. When you find her, tell her I love her."

"Phoebe already knows that Jess. Just come back safe," Ross tenderly kissed Jessamy's forehead, "love you sis."

...

That had been just over a day before. With a stiff breeze filling the Lupita's patched sails, Jessamy and Hamnavoe had made excellent time. They'd sailed through the night and on through the following day, using both windpower and the boat's engine. Past the Firth of Forth, up the eastern side of Scotland past Aberdeen. Cutting across the Moray Firth where the Lupita was joined for a while by the area's resident pod of bowriding dolphins, before heading north again towards John O' Groats. Following the same route by which Jessamy had taken Hamnavoe back to Kirkwall as a prisoner months before.

"I think we can afford a couple of hours ashore," Jessamy had announced as they gazed up at the imposing black fins of Duncansby Stacks to their port side. Fulmars and Kittiwakes circled high above them in their thousands, launching themselves from nests built precariously on tiny ledges.

Hamnavoe looked puzzled, "We don't have to lass. There's food for a week and our drinking waters' gonnae last well beyond that."

Jessamy shook her head in frustration, "Angus. Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?"

"What?"

"We might be dead in a couple of days. I want my husband. On solid ground out in the fresh air, not cooped up in a tiny boat."

Hamnavoe's eye lit up, "Aah... ye want a shag JB. Ye shoulda said."

They anchored the Lupita just fifty yards off a secluded stony beach east of John O' Groats and rowed ashore in the yacht's tiny inflatable dinghy.

...

"I was expecting to at least see Pheebs waving from the town walls when we left," Jessamy began cutting slivers from the Cormorant with her multitool. Even months after the fact she still missed her Royal Marines Commando knife that Keaton's militia had stolen.

Peeping Oystercatchers, disturbed from their sleep, ambled off across the shingle in search of a more peaceful spot to spend their night.

"Och. She's probably aff somewhere wi' 'er cousin Tamsin. Ye'll see her again in a few days when we get back. Don't punish yersel' JB," Hamnavoe unfolded their sleeping bags. Though they both knew they weren't going to be doing much sleeping, it was a clear night, and cool.

A breeze blew across the turbulent swirling waters of the Pentland Firth soughing through the marram grass bordering the cove. Miles to the north lay the islands of Orkney, a few faintly twinkling lights punctuating the velvety darkness of the night. One of them could quite possibly be the inn where Jessamy had climbed, horny and frustrated, out of her hot bath to go and fuck Hamnavoe for the first time.

So much had happened since then. They'd saved the world. They'd gotten married. Jessamy had discovered her brother and dearest friend were alive and well, with their own family. And they'd witnessed her home being wiped out by a psychopathic ex convict who modelled himself on a fictional Napoleonic naval captain.

Jessamy handed Hamnavoe a few scraps of greasy meat, "Do you think this'll ever be over Angus? I mean... once we've dealt with Aubrey, what's to stop some other crazy fuck taking his place?"

"Let someone else worry aboot it lass. Ye've already gone above and beyond. One woman. And a fine, bonny one at that... has achieved all those things. And ye're still only forty."

"Am not," Jessamy scowled.

Hamnavoe quickly stuffed a piece of fishy tasting Cormorant meat in his mouth and held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Shorry, lass. Nearly forty."

"I'm nearly thirty nine. And how old are you, old man? Sixty?"

Hamnavoe waggled a hand, "Ish."

"Maybe it's time I traded you in for a younger model," Jessamy turned purposefully away, "one with a bit more stamina."

Jessamy yelped as Hamnavoe grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto the sleeping bags, "Let me prove there's nothin' wrong with my stamina."

She let herself relax as the familiar warmth of Hamnavoe's body pressed up against her, his mouth on hers, his hand delving between her legs, loosening her belt, "Whoa! Slow down. At least give a girl chance to get undressed!"

Jessamy and Hamnavoe grinned at one another as they hopped around on the stony beach, quickly removing boots, jackets and trousers. They were both physically drained after a full day's sailing but their desperate need for intimacy overcame all other concerns.

Jessamy lay back down, wriggling her thermal bottoms and panties down her legs with one hand as she wrapped one of the sleeping bags around herself.

Hamnavoe couldn't wait any longer. He seized the waistbands of both garments and impatiently pulled them off, leaving Jessamy in just a t-shirt, bra and socks, "Fuck me but you're beautiful lass. I wouldnae trade ye for all the so-called supermodels that ever lived."

Jessamy cupped her hands self consciously over her shaven crotch, "Even with the scars?"

Hamnavoe nodded, pulling off his t-shirts as he gazed down at her, "Even with the scars. Your body tells a story. It's yer imperfections that make ye perfect JB."

"Wow. That's deep."

Hamnavoe shook his head and grinned, "No' really. I saw it on a fridge magnet once."

He lay back down, fingers exploring, seeking out the places that he knew would drive her wild. His fingers settled on her centre of pleasure, teasing and pressing, making Jessamy close her eyes tight and struggle against the urge to moan, "Oh, fuck Angus!"

Hamnavoe's thumb stroked around Jessamy's clitoris, just avoiding the supersensitive tip, as he pressed himself closer to her and eased one finger inside. Her hot, wet flesh offered no resistance. Jessamy couldn't prevent herself from pushing towards his finger, wanting to feel it sliding, thrusting up inside her.

Hamnavoe immediately withdrew it.

"Don't be such a fucking tease, Angus," Jessamy gritted her teeth and tried to pretend that she wasn't turned on.

Hamnavoe grinned down at her and stroked her slippery folds, while his other hand caressed the smooth curve of her breast, "Have ye given any thought to what ye want to do if we're successful JB?"

"It's not all about me Angus. There's four of us in the equation now with Pheebs and Ada. What would you like to do?"

"I'd be perfectly happy doin' what I'm doin' right now lass. Other than that... find a wee island and settle down," Hamnavoe chose that moment to squeeze Jessamy's erect nipple between thumb and finger, gently at first, then harder. Then as she gasped he pushed two of his thick, calloused fingers into her and moved them in and out, while rubbing at her clitoris with his thumb.

The suddenness of it made Jessamy moan and jerk her hips towards her husband's hand, an orgasm already hovering close by, waiting for her to reach out and grasp it.

"Angus..." she whispered under her breath.

"What, lass?"

Jessamy lifted herself towards his hand and moaned, "Please Angus..."

Hamnavoe's fingers renewed their assault, but now touching her so lightly that it was more frustrating than satisfying, "I cannae hear ye lass. When ye get to my advanced years yer hearin' starts tae give oot."

"Please!" Jessamy hissed, pressing herself against his hand.

"What was that? Ye'll have tae speak louder!" Hamnavoe insisted. He ran the tip of one finger down her labia to her bottom, circling her asshole before returning to her clitoris.

"PLEASE!" Jessamy shouted, "make me cum."

"Aah... I think I heard ye that time. But ye may have to repeat it," Hamnavoe smirked, as his finger began to flick against her.

Jessamy moaned, letting her head fall back as his fingers worked their magic, "Please... please, please..."

The old Scot was so fucking good at this, she thought. She could put up with him being a bit of a wanker sometimes as long as he could do this to her. There was something about the way his thick fingers squirmed inside her and curled against her clitoris that she found totally irresistible.

"Please!" Jessamy wailed, letting her orgasm wash all rational thought from her mind for a blissful, shuddering few seconds.

Hamnavoe held her tightly, hugging her, caressing her until the storm had passed, "Fuckin' hell JB. I'd never grow tired o' watchin' ye when ye cum."

She sleepily held a finger to his lips, "Less talk. Get inside me."

Hamnavoe caught hold of Jessamy's legs and pushed them gently apart, climbed on top of her and without preamble pushed his cock inside. She no longer cared what he did. She was totally relaxed, basking in a fuzzy post orgasmic fog.

Hamnavoe pushed himself in to the hilt and began to thrust, jerky stabbing movements followed by long slow strokes, clutching at her breasts and kissing her all the while. Jessamy thought he would cum quickly, but he didn't. Hamnavoe put his hands under her thighs and lifted them, rolling her back until her knees were over his shoulders and she was completely open to him. A minute later she felt his cock pulse, clenched her internal muscles around him to experience every modicum of sensation as her husband filled her.

...

Half an hour later, Jessamy climbed up onto the Lupita's deck and carried their gear below into the cabin while Hamnavoe secured the dinghy. Despite the knowledge of what they were sailing into, she couldn't stop smiling. Hamnavoe had made her cum again before they'd gotten dressed and finally left the beach. Whatever happened, this sheltered little cove would always hold a special place in her heart.

Freeze dried noodles crunched underfoot as she walked through the galley. Strange. She couldn't remember spilling anything on the floor earlier but she guessed that was probably down to exhaustion. They'd be taking it in turns to man the helm while the other tried to get a few hours sleep through the rest of the night. It was now only two days until Aubrey's deadline.

"Coffee?" Hamnavoe called as he came below. They'd rescued an ancient electric kettle before leaving Looe, and connected it to an old car battery so they could at least have a hot drink whenever they needed one.

"I'll make it," Jessamy reached for the kettle, and quickly snatched her hand back. The metal was scalding hot.

Jessamy drew her Glock and looked around. They'd been ashore for the better part of two hours. The kettle was hot enough to have been boiled within the last ten minutes.

"What is it JB?" Hamnavoe asked.

"Someone's been onboard. While we've been ashore, someone's been on the Lupita."

...

Hamnavoe drew his own handgun and went back up on deck, "There's no wet footprints an' nae sign of another boat," he ducked his head back into the cabin, "chances are... they're still onboard."

Jessamy cocked her head to one side, listening. Outside, a cable tap-tapped against the mast, and wavelets sloshed rhythmically against the hull. Other than her breathing, there was no other sound, "We know you're here. Whoever you are, come on out or I start shooting. You have until the count of three. One..."

From the main cabin, two other doors led to the cramped double bedroom in the bow and to the head off to her right. A dozen storage compartments had been squeezed into any remaining space - adequate for clothes, shoes or provisions but most certainly not large enough for a person. Jessamy moved back into the galley area around the small foldaway table with its padded bench seats, "Two..."

"Maybe there was a boat after all JB..." Hamnavoe ventured.

Jessamy held up a hand for silence, "Last chance. Thr..."

The padded part of one of the benches lifted, "Okay! Okay, I'm c-coming out."

Jessamy looked stunned as a small blonde head emerged from the storage compartment under the bench and her eldest daughter Phoebe sheepishly climbed out, "PHOEBE! What the f... what are you doing here?"

Phoebe was visibly shivering. But whether from cold or apprehension as to how her mother would react Jessamy couldn't tell. She stripped out of her jacket and draped it around the girl's trembling shoulders, hugging her close, "I'm sorry mum. I just... I just got sick of saying g-goodbye to you all the time."

"So you thought you'd tag along eh? Have you been hiding under there all this time?"

Phoebe nodded, "I c-came out while you went ashore, cos I was hungry."

Jessamy glanced at Hamnavoe. It was lucky they'd gone ashore for their tryst and not stayed onboard, "We have to take you back Pheebs. Merida'll be worried sick. You can't come with us, it's far too dangerous."

"JB. We willnae have time. We've only two days to get tae Mull as it is," Hamnavoe reminded her grimly.

"I t-told Tamsin what I was doing mum," Phoebe continued, "so Aunt Merida and Uncle R-ross will know where I am."

Jessamy squeezed her eyes shut. They could return Phoebe to safety and miss the deadline, running the risk of Aubrey destroying everything they'd fought for. Or they could continue sailing west, taking her daughter into who knew what dangers.

"JB?" Hamnavoe prompted softly.

Jessamy gripped her daughter's shoulders and knelt to look her in the eye, "Where we're going is extremely dangerous Pheebs. Extremely dangerous. I appreciate that you miss mummy sometimes but you never should've come. Will you promise to do exactly as me or Angus tell you from now on?"

Phoebe nodded.

"We may have to make some difficult decisions. But we're trying to save Merida, Ross, Tamsin and all the others from being killed. You and Ada... are my world, and I'm doing this for you too. Whatever happens... mummy will always love you," Jessamy took a deep breath and turned to Hamnavoe, "weigh anchor. Let's get moving."

...

Back in Northumberland, Merida couldn't sleep. The strengthening wind howled along the alleyways and ancient back lanes of Berwick Upon Tweed, rattling loose tiles and sending litter scuttling noisily through the streets. Jessamy Beech was gone again. Merida had never considered herself to be bisexual, as such labels were now irrelevant to the day to day struggle of merely surviving. But she had to admit that despite being happily married to Jessamy's brother Ross, she genuinely loved the tattooed Cornish bounty hunter.

'Well, the thing is... Merida... I love you. You're my dearest friend and I just needed you to know that. In case I don't come back.' That was one of the last things Jessamy had said to her as they snuggled up to each other in this very bed. Merida peered over to Ross's side of their bed, watching her husband snuffle in his sleep. Before Jessamy had come along - a half starved waif on the run from a labour camp, it had been just the two of them. Merida and Ross against the world. Only back then he'd been known as Ewan, she had to remind herself.

Moody, unpredictable Ewan, whose amnesia prevented him from even recognising his own sister. Wow, that had been an interesting conversation. When they and Mrs Taber had fled the Reivers invading Threlkeld and ended up here. Fucking his own sister! Merida often wondered if Jessamy had secretly known and just decided to play along as the sex was so damn good. Even after years together, Ross was truly something else between the sheets.

Merida nuzzled into Ross and stroked his chest, playing with the silky brown hairs that covered his pectorals and continued in a line down to his groin. She knew of only one foolproof cure for insomnia. And if she couldn't have Jessamy Beech, her husband would have to suffice, "Ross? You awake?"

Silence. Except for the skirling wind and her husband's slow, heavy breathing. Merida reached under the covers and curled her fingers around his cock.

Ross murmured something in his sleep as she began to stroke him in the way he liked best. Smoothing back the skin from the glans, Merida felt a drop of fluid already oozing from the tip as his erection grew. She'd have to tell him of course, about her bathtime tryst with Jessamy. Her conscience wouldn't allow her to keep a secret like that. After what the three of them had once had together she was certain he'd understand.

"Mmm... whassgoin'on?" Ross burbled as his sleep addled brain emerged into wakefulness. Merida smiled. It didn't take much to get him aroused.

She felt the fluid brim over and trickle down over her fingers, the skin of his shaft now hot to the touch. Thick veins pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Merida captured the sticky drops on the ball of her thumb and used it to lubricate the swollen purplish glans.

Ross entwined his hand in her thick red curls as he realised what she was up to and lay back against the pillows, sighing. Content to simply enjoy the moment.

"Which of us did you prefer? Me or Jessamy?" for a while Merida worked the skin of his shaft back and forth over the rigid centre, teasing as she awaited his answer.

"What sort of question's that?" Ross whispered, his hips beginning to lift off the bed slightly.

"Do you want me to stop?" asked Merida.

Ross shook his head.

"Then answer the question," when she judged that her husband's level of arousal demanded it, Merida began to alternate her strokes. Firm then soft, firm then soft, tormenting him.

"I don't know. Y-you're both so... so different. You're my dream woman Meri. You know that. But Jess has a... a wildness about her. A d-determination that sometimes scares me."

"And sometimes excites you?"

Ross nodded.

She knew just what he meant. Ross dug the back of his head into the pillows and tensed his thigh muscles as Merida continued her ministrations, "Good answer. Hmm, I think you've earned a reward."

Continuing to move her hand back and forth, Merida moved her head up and flicked her tongue over Ross's chest where his tiny nipples stood out proud and erect.

Ross moaned, "Fuck Meri, that's good."

Merida used the edges of her teeth to nip at the firm little buds. Tremors passed through Ross's flat belly and his cock leapt in her hand. He called out, as a gush of hot, creamy liquid shot into Merida's hand.