The Tears of the Stars Pt. 02

Jackson lifted her legs, her body still trapped against the wall, and he rammed his cock into her pussy with a guttural roar. Stacy had never felt him bottom out so quickly inside her, and she let out a loud grunt. He pulled back and pounded back into her again. "My slut." He growled out with such primal need.

"Uh huh." She said softly as he took ownership of her pussy. "Your slut. Pour all that power out into me. You can't hurt me. No matter how hard you fuck it." Her arms were still pinned above her by his unseen force and she reveled in the power he had.

Jackson used his power to keep her knees bent up as he attacked her cunt with his aching cock. His right hand reached out and grabbed the nape of her neck. He looked directly in her eyes while he fucked up into her tight pussy, feeling her stretched on him. She didn't flinch or look away. She took it as he drove into her with hard, forceful thrusts.

Jackson peeled her body from the wall. His rough, masculine hands gripped her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She watched the muscles in his arms bulge as he lifted her easily and then dropped her back down on his length. Stacy squeaked out those beautiful little sounds he loved so much as he lifted her up feeling every inch of him rubbing against those special places. He made her feel so small like she was nothing more than a child's doll to be thrown around and played with. Each time, she slid back down until she stopped at his root, and it was so deep that she felt the tip in her gut pressing her insides. She had those conflicting sensations of intense pleasure mixed with discomfort.

Stacy gushed as his cock plunged deep inside her. She loved feeling him take control of her this way. It felt like surrender, and as soon as she did, those amazing feelings bubbled up within her. Her little squeaks were getting louder and sultrier as the sparks of electricity started to ignite her body.

"Ohgod!" She gasped. "Take your pussy." His right hand slipped around and held her ass, squeezing it. He could feel her pussy tightening. He let his middle finger press at the puckered hole between her crack. "Oh!" She gasped at the pressure he placed on it. Then he pushed harder until it disappeared inside. "Ohno! Ohgod! Oh fuuu..." It sent her over the edge and he slammed her down watched her tremble on his full length. She rocked gently against his body as it coursed through her, breathing soft and shallow.

Jackson pumped into her a few more times and then exploded. Stream after stream of cum flooded into her pussy as his balls emptied. Stacy kept her arms wrapped around his neck as all of that power drained out of him. And then he stuck his head in the crook of her neck.

"I'm sorry." He said holding her tight.

"Shhh." She said. "It's okay. Everything is okay." She just held onto him with his cock still stuffed deep inside of her. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head. "Did you want to fuck her?" He shook his head yes. "Did you?"

Jackson pulled his head back and looked at her, his eyes a deep, soulful blue. "No." He said quietly. "But I almost did. She undid my shorts and grabbed it and started to jerk. It's like I couldn't say no."

"But you did." She replied softly. "You did say no. You stopped yourself. You're learning to control it." She smiled at him. "Just find me when it starts to happen. Until you learn to control it, take it out on your slut." She leaned in and kissed him long and hard and sweet. "Did you fix her?" She asked finally.

"I did." He said. "I think she'll be okay now. And she won't come into the barn anymore without being invited. I told her that you're working for me. It should be fine. Just tell me if you see anything unusual."

"Okay." She replied. "It was the right thing to do."

Jackson lifted her up off his length and set her down. Stacy's hand cupped her pussy as the initial flood came pouring out. He came so much since the second submersion. She looked down at her palm and brought up to her mouth and licked it clean. Then she stopped and thought about it for a minute.

"Wait!" She cried realizing what she just did. "That mind thing you did to me earlier is still working, isn't it? You didn't undo it."

"Oh!" He let out a snort of laughter. "I guess I didn't. I'm sorry. I'll fix it."

Stacy rubbed her pussy again gathering another small stream as it leaked out. She looked at it, wanting it in her mouth, practically licking her lips at the thought of it. "Don't." She said grinning. "Leave it like that for now." She licked her hand clean again. "I'm a better slut this way."

******

The air outside was cold and crisp. Jackson wore his flannel-lined jeans and navy blue, microfleece pullover. He laced his worn work boots and then grabbed a log from the wood pile sticking it into the hot embers of the pot belly stove in the bedroom. It should last a couple hours, he thought, as he closed the door on the stove and adjusted the vent. Stacy was still sound asleep.

Winter had come late. It was mid-December and the first big frost set in overnight freezing the ground. The trees were bare now, except for a few that still clung to their yellow and red leaves. All the talk of heat waves and global warming seemed silly now when the cold chilled the bones. Jackson walked down to his workshop. He'd cleared the back half of the barn for his new project. It was just waiting for everything to fall into place.

The grass was shiny and tipped with frozen dew that frosted white in the night. It crunched under the weight of his boots as he watched for Dana. He held his hands to his mouth and exhaled, rubbing them together and warming them up. Archbishop Dormer was going to be with her this morning. He'd been surprised when he got the call.

Sally cracked the sliding glass door. "Jackson!" She called. "Coffee." She held out a thermos through the cracked opening in the doorway.

Jackson ran up and took it feeling the warmth on his fingers. "Thanks, mom." He cracked the door open further and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too." She said and smiled. Everything had been different with her since he'd changed her commands. Jackson didn't think he'd been invasive about it. He hadn't made her a different person. He's simply given her a few broad notes and it was life changing for him and Stacy.

The horn honked at the top of the driveway. Jackson walked up the gravel and found the car idling. He opened the door and slipped into the soft leather seat, the warmth enveloping him.

"Man, I didn't see this cold snap coming. A long, hot summer and you forget what the cold feels like." He leaned over and gave Dana a peck on the lips. "Hey, babe. Missed you."

"Me too." She replied with a beautiful smile.

"Your Eminence." Jackson said turning in his seat to see the Archbishop behind him. "Oh, you're so casual! It looks good on you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm dying, Jackson." He replied with a funny expression. "I guess that means not well. May I ask what all the mystery is about today?"

"I'm thankful that you never pursued me in the Josh Callaway case. When I got your call I figured you changed your mind about my offer. But you haven't. You're refusing treatment." Jackson spoke with profound sadness. "You don't have much time left. And I can feel that you're in pain. So why did you call? You seemed like you wanted to ask me something on the phone."

The Archbishop looked back at him uncertain what to say. "I wanted to know. I'm going to meet God soon enough. But even a man of the cloth has questions toward the end. Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you and our conversation."

"I know." Jackson replied. "I have a lot of work to do, Your Eminence. And I've discussed it with Dana and my sister and they thought it would be alright if I was honest with you. You've been discrete so far." He paused for a moment. "We're going to see a man who's terminally ill. He's desperate for a cure."

The Archbishop looked up with surprise. "I'm going to witness a healing?" He asked.

"Yes. But this isn't like Josh Callaway. This man is very wealthy and I need money. So it's not as noble as it seems." Jackson continued. "Dana is against it if that's any solace. But I hope you'll understand when I tell you the whole story. He's flown a long way to be here and rented a cabin on the north side of the lake at my request. We'll be there soon."

The Archbishop looked out the window quietly.

"You'll miss her." Jackson said.

"Miss who?" He asked.

"Your sister. You were just thinking about your sister and how she always asked if God ever spoke to you or if you ever witnessed any miracles. And you wondered if you could finally say yes."

Dana pulled down a private dirt road. It was lined with small cottages. The lake shimmered through the bare trees. The road was pitted and bumpy as the car crept along slowly until Dana pulled over into a small turnout and parked.

"How..." The Archbishop began as they walked toward the cabin.

"How did I know about your sister? Or how did I know about those conversations, which she only had with you in private." Jackson smiled at him warmly. "Give me your hand. Let me at least ease the pain." He took the Archbishop's hand and flooded a soothing energy through him. He saw the old man's face soften.

"Praise be to God." The man whispered. "No drug has given me this kind of relief. How?"

"You have a lot of questions. I'll get to them." Jackson said. "Now, please just observe when we get inside. I wouldn't want anyone thinking the church sanctioned this. He's a textile billionaire, recently diagnosed with a rare form of degenerative brain disease. It's terminal within a year most times, Dana told me. And he's sought out every alternative option available."

"How did he find you?"

"Dana may not agree with doing this for money, Your Eminence. But she sees the bigger picture. So she reached out to other hospitals around the nation looking for people to participate in a potential new and costly form of treatment. That's what she told her colleagues at least. When the right person came up, we had to move quickly."

Dana was waiting for them at the doorway.

******

The inside of the cabin was cozy and quaint. It had the feel of a mountain retreat with rustic furnishings. The front wall of the living room had large picture windows that framed the view of the lake below. A glass door led to a large stilted deck that stretched off the cabin. Jackson saw the set of Adirondack chairs he'd sold to Jack Connors last year when he decided to turn the place into a rental.

The living room had two large brown sofas that faced each other with a driftwood coffee table in between them. There were black and white framed photos of the town and the lake from the fifties when the first pieces of property were bought up along the shore. The cabin wasn't large at all, just a living room, small kitchen, bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Maureen Johnston looked out of place. She wore a designer wool pantsuit and fur petticoat. Her face was done up in full makeup to hide her wrinkles. Dana admired the diamond teardrop earrings and the large diamond pendant that hung around her neck. She was a woman that liked her appearance, but her hair was natural gray. Dana appreciated that she hadn't dyed it to look younger.

"Mrs. Johnston?" Dana said as she walked into the living room.

"Yes. You're Doctor Monroe?" She replied.

"I am." She leaned in and gave the woman a gentle kiss on each cheek. Dana had all the social grace to handle a woman of her stature. "Let me introduce you." She added. "This is Jackson Travers and this is..."

"Timothy." The Archbishop added. He didn't want his position noted, and he was unassuming in his black slacks and his collared shirt and sweater vest. He wore none of the traditional priestly garb.

"Tea?" Maureen asked gesturing to the table. "It's been steeping just long enough."

They made themselves comfortable on the couches. Jackson and the Archbishop sat on one side and Dana and Maureen on the other.

"I appreciate you making the trip." Dana said. "I know it must be hard to travel with his condition. Tulsa isn't exactly close."

She waved her hands dismissively. "We took the plane to India a few months back to meet with a Saiva Yogi who claimed he could cure his disease through meditation." Her eyes looked sad and tired. "He'd have me try anything. I want my Peter back. His lucid moments are less frequent now. It's a gift, I suppose. At least those that suffer this disease can't understand that they have it. But for me..." The tears rolled down and she dabbed them with an embroidered handkerchief. "It's painful to watch."

"Have you prayed?" The Archbishop asked.

"I've prayed for miracles." She replied forcing a polite smile. "We've been blessed in this life. I'm not sure we're owed any favors. I've doubted my faith as well. We've been married for forty-nine years. I can't make sense of my life without Peter." She collected herself. "Oh dear, I'm certain you don't want to hear my sad story. You know, Peter would have liked this cabin. We're so used to fancy hotels now. It would've reminded him of his youth. He loved to fish."

Jackson had been noticeably quiet. He could feel the Archbishop's eyes on him as listened carefully to the woman talk about her husband.

"Well, I may be able to help." Jackson said quietly with his soulful, blue eyes. He listened to her thoughts and the doubt she had that it was true.

"Of course." She replied. "That is why we are here." She looked back to Dana. "Are we going to bring him to a hospital? How does this new procedure work?"

"No. No, hospital." She said. "Jackson will take a look at him."

"Oh?" She said with surprise. "Are you a doctor? You're so young."

Jackson walked over and crouched down in front of her taking her hands in his. His powers were stronger now, more stable. He felt her energy. "What is his health worth? If he could be completely healthy?"

"Of course, money!" Maureen replied realizing her ignorance. "It's worth everything. I'd give it all away for even a few more years." He felt the sadness and truth in her words. "Cherish your youth. Aspire to great things. Peter built an empire that he loved as much as he loved me. But in the end, money and things have no value when the people you love are gone."

Archbishop Dormer nodded approvingly at her comment. He felt the weight of the end of his life nearing. Jackson squeezed her hands in his. He could hardly look at Dana. It felt wrong taking money. "He's lucky to have such a devoted wife. Dana has a car out front. Would you let her take you for a ride and show you the town? Give me an hour alone with Peter."

"I..." Maureen looked to Dana who nodded back that it was okay. "Are you sure? I don't feel comfortable leaving him."

"I promise I won't let anything happen to him. Everything will be okay."

Maureen looked at him again. His blue eyes were soft and caring. She squeezed his hands back. "Okay." She said. "He's resting in the bedroom. He's been lucid today."

******

Jackson and Archbishop Dormer sat alone in the living room staring at each other across the driftwood table. Jackson sipped at his tea. He never usually drank tea, but he needed a moment as he looked at the dying man across from him.

"Are you sure you want to watch?" He finally asked. "Do you want answers? They may not be the answers you were hoping for."

"Yes." He said after a long pause. His faith in God was strong, but he was a man and suffered the curiosities of men. "Will it take an hour?"

"No." Jackson replied. "I'm not sure how to explain this to you. I don't want you to be afraid. I could keep you calm by holding your hand, but I'm afraid that with your condition it may heal you. So, try not to be startled by what you see."

"Okay."

Jackson set his teacup down on the saucer, and then stood up. He pulled his microfleece over his head leaving him bare chested. "I get hot." He shrugged. "It's very hard to explain everything. You'll see."

He turned back toward the bedrooms. There were two small steps up from the living room toward the rear of the cabin. He walked down the narrow hallway and stepped into the open door. It smelled of mothballs. The room had a queen size bed and old teak furniture. Jackson sat on the edge of the mattress and looked down at Peter Johnston. He stirred awake.

"Maureen?" He asked. His lips were dry and cracked. "Who are you? Where's Maureen? I'm late for work." His eyes were confused, his lucid moment gone. Archbishop Dormer crossed himself and folded his hands in silent prayer at the end of the bed.

"She'll be back soon." Jackson said softly. "You don't have to be at work. You're very ill."

Peter struggled to process the words. Some part of him knew he was ill, but he couldn't remember. His eyes looked scared and helpless and his face was weathered and tired for battling the disease. "Maureen?" He called out fearfully, searching for comfort in his confusion.

"It's okay." Jackson said softly. "Give me your hand." He lifted Peter's hand from the comforter, and eased his fear. "Relax, now." He said. "I'm going to make it all better. Just relax."

Jackson set Peter's hand back on the comforter. He held his hands up in front him, and closed his eyes calming his heart. Then he looked over at Archbishop Dormer. Jackson's eyes ignited instantly. The soulful blue pools exploding out into luminescent green nebulas, more vibrant than ever. The Archbishop stumbled back into the wall behind him at the sight of it. Jackson's hands grew hot, the skin glowing with the faintest halo of light.

The Archbishop looked at the windows as the curtains blew softly, but they were latched tightly. He thought he heard the wind. But he listened closer and it sounded as if someone was whispering. Jackson was speaking in some strange tongue. He could hear the words, but then it sounded like they came from everywhere, like thousands of people whispering along with him. Jackson placed his hand on Peter's head and another on his chest, the whispers growing louder, his hands brighter. And then the voices faded until it was silent again.

Peter looked back at him quietly. "Rest." Jackson said, the word rippling out and burrowing into Peter's head until his eyelids closed. Jackson stood up his chest and brow beaded in a light sweat. His eyes clear blue again. "I'm finished." He said softly seeing the disbelief in the Archbishop's face. "Don't be afraid. It's time to answer your questions."

******

A chill blew in off the lake and up through the trees. Jackson sat in the Adirondack chair on the deck, still shirtless. He enjoyed the cold after a hard use of his power. The Archbishop was bundled in his jacket sipping a fresh cup of hot tea.

"So it's a gift of knowledge?" The Archbishop asked. "And you're saying the thing with your eyes is because you've been genetically enhanced?" He stopped and thought. "I just witnessed something that I cannot explain. But an ancient alien species? If you could just say it was God, I think that would be easier for me."

Jackson nodded. "I understand, Your Eminence. You know I grew up in the church. I'm Catholic and I was an altar boy. I've read the bible. When this happened, I struggled with my faith. I understand faith as a human made in God's image. I understand it as trying to live a noble and humble life according to His word. When I tell you that there are literally millions of advanced species in the universe, it immediately changes the way you view your faith. But does it mean you can't believe in God?" Jackson said contemplatively. "I'm now eternal. How do you put that into a view of traditional faith?"

"Everyone is eternal, Jackson. The soul is eternal." The Archbishop said. "Are you saying this species didn't have an answer to whether God exists?"