The Seduction of Deckhand Jones

by lifeinahole

Most would overlook the only man in the tavern that chooses to sit in the corner instead of joining in on the raucous activities of the other patrons. But Emma notices him, despite the fact that he's trying his very best to blend in with the shadows, dressed all in black. (CS au one-shot)

Squinting her eyes in the poorly lit tavern, Emma Swan looks for some salvation to the overwhelming sense of tedium and monotony that's begun to rule her life. She scrunches her face in disdain at those that surround her, their drunken behavior mirroring every tavern she's ever set foot in, until she spots one that's unlike all the others.

Most would overlook the only man in the tavern that chooses to sit in the corner by himself, the one that doesn't order anything other than his dinner, the one who keeps his eyes cast downward instead of joining in on the raucous activities of the other patrons. But Emma notices him, despite the fact that he's trying his very best to blend in with the shadows, dressed all in black.

She's intrigued by him. It's not just the hook that catches the light and gleams when he shifts his arm. It's not that, every once in a while, he takes a pull from a flask instead of partaking of the rum and ale they serve that all the other sailors, pirates, and miscreants seem to be chugging. It does have a lot to do with the fact that, of all the men (and some women) in this whole tavern, he's the only one that hasn't muttered some lewd comment about how she's wearing pants or tried to grab her ass. He's just sitting there, squinting at the pages of a small leather-bound book as he absently finishes off the last of his supper.

It doesn't take much to coax him to talk to her. A few soft smiles and just the right questions, and he's gaping at her a little less than when she originally sat down. When he stammers and blushes, she realized how much he doesn't fit in the general image she thinks of as a pirate's life, and her curiosity grows. He's awkward and quiet, and imbibing on goat's milk in that flask of his, which has her choking back laughter because really, he's nothing like what she's used to finding in these taverns. This Killian Jones is unlike any other she's ever met, and her inquisitive nature solidifies her need to know more about him.

A little more effort goes into convincing him to go for a walk. "Just a stroll in the night," she says to him, her smile the picture of innocence as she holds out her hand to him. He takes it, hesitantly, cheeks burning a bright red even as their hands meet palm to palm. Of course, he insists on letting go right after to hold the door open for her, bowing his head and motioning her through first with his hook.

"What's your story, pirate?" she asks once they're out in the night, ambling down by the docks. The salt in the air is as calming to her as the sound of the waves butting up against the worn wood sunk into the water. Her desire for a life at sea wells up again, and she swallows it down to give her undivided attention to the mystery walking beside her.

"Not much of a story, as I'm not much of a pirate," he admits. He rubs at a spot behind his ear, which she finds just as endearing as everything else she's found about him so far. "I am little more than a deckhand on Captain Blackbeard's ship. On the off chance I have an evening ashore, I mostly spend it alone."

Killian has his own dreams about the course of his life. None of them involved being a lowly deckhand on one of the most feared pirate ships on the waters. He tells Emma about his brief life in the Royal Navy, about losing his brother, and thus losing the courage to continue despite rising through the ranks at admirable speeds. He was on the track straight to captain his own ship before Liam passed, before his cowardice won over and he abandoned the navy and ended up at Blackbeard's beck and call.

"I think you could be a captain with a little work."

"I highly doubt that. Presently though, I'm still trying to figure out how I've had the fortune to walk with such a beautiful lass, Miss Swan."

"You can call me Emma," she says, making a face at the formality. It's better than some of the alternatives that she's been called, but she can't remember a time in her life where anyone ever began her name with 'miss' and it feels wrong, even coming from him.

"Of course, Miss Swan- I mean- Emma!" She laughs at his slip, making the decision then and there to start angling them back towards her room at the inn by the harbor. She knows he'll follow where she walks because he's a gentleman, and a true gentleman will accompany a lady anywhere she leads him.

As they go along, she outlines the sad details of her life that she's willing to share. Orphan, alone, half-dreamer, half-bandit, with dreams of something more. She doesn't include the abandonment of her first love, or what she thinks was her first love. It's been so long that she's not even sure what emotions she felt for him. Instead, she sticks to safer conversation and avoids the rest. He accompanies her all the way to the door without realizing where they're heading, or what her intentions are.

"You wanna come in for a nightcap?" she asks as she unlocks the door, turning to look at him from below her lashes. He nods his head, blinking in wonder as she turns the handle and leads him in.

"I'm allergic to rum, just so you're aware," he tells her, his nerves obvious as he follows behind her into the room, fingers absentmindedly rubbing that spot behind his ear again. She shuts the door firmly behind him and the clicking of the lock echoes the audible gulp he takes.

"I think we'll be able to manage," she replies. She lights a few candles around the room, turning back to him when the last one catches flame.

Killian's still by the entrance, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. The small room is sparsely furnished. A bed takes up the majority of the area, with one chest of drawers pushed against the wall that joins to a private washroom. A bundled pack that he assumes are Emma's possessions occupies a well-worn armchair, the upholstery faded and a little threadbare from years of use.

She moves to him slowly. It's a little like working with a wild animal, and she doesn't want to spook him and chase him out the door, but his sweet naivety is setting a fire in her that no one else has ever managed to ignite. This shy deckhand, there's just something pulling her to him, like they are physically connected by something bigger than either of them can fully understand. The very thought should terrify her, tell her to run, but the intrigue wins out.

He's still marveling at his luck, mostly because he didn't think he had any. He can't believe this beautiful woman would want to talk to him, let alone share an evening walk with him. She captivated him the moment she appeared next to his table in the tavern, her beautiful blonde hair bound back in a ponytail, her curves accented by a corset, but the modesty of her blouse covering where some women openly flaunt. And the tight fit of her trousers made him swallow hard and avert his eyes until she was seated across from him.

Now he's standing in her room, but he's a little confused, because nightcaps usually mean some sort of drink, and he's yet to see her move towards anything that might quench his suddenly parched throat, what with the way she's looking at him, and slowly slinking across the room back to him. He's not so sure she was being honest about that nightcap, after all.

You're a grown man, Killian Jones, he tells himself. Surely you can figure this out. She's standing just before him, now. If he inhales deeply enough, he's sure his chest would touch hers, and he can't help the heat that spreads to his face and to his groin at just the thought of it.

"Relax," she soothes, running one hand up chest, resting it on his shoulder as if anchoring them together in a storm. Her other hand clutches the front of his shirt and drags him forward, his lips meeting hers in an uncoordinated and sloppy kiss that takes him a few moments to figure out the rhythm of. He stumbles forward with the force, but braces his hand and his hook on her waist.

The hand that was on his shoulder moves to the back of his head, her fingers gliding through his hair and tilting his head so she can deepen the kiss. The moment her tongue darts out to taste his lips, he's lost to her and he moans as he tentatively opens his mouth to allow her entrance. He's only kissed a few maidens in his time, but none with the same intensity with which Emma is kissing him. It's overwhelming, this feeling that he was born to kiss these lips and that he wants nothing more in his life but what he holds in his arms right here, right now.

Emma eases them back, gently pressing Killian against the door and she molds her body to his. He marvels at the closeness, how she fits against him like she was made to do so. She leans back slightly, keeping her lower half pressed to his and when she rolls her hips against his, he's pretty sure he sees all the stars, the entire cosmos rolled into one point of feeling. Her fingers are working at the buttons of his vest, but he cannot bring himself to move a single muscle.

There's a part of him that's terrified to discover this is all some dream, that none of it is real. He opens his eyes once he discovers that he's been clenching them shut in fear of just that. But even as he opens them, she's still there. The smile on her face is either reassuring or feral and he really couldn't care which it is when the last fastener on his vest is released.

Taking her time, Emma slides the fabric of the waistcoat from his shoulders. He drops his arms only long enough to let it fall to the floor before he's gripping her waist again. There's still yards of fabric between them but the expression on his face makes her feel like she's already bared him to her eyes. She wants the reality to match so she goes straight for the line of small buttons holding his shirt closed.

With each one undone, she exposes a new sliver of his chest. She grazes her knuckles against his skin on her way down, enjoying each change in his breathing, every tick of the muscle in his jaw. Killian's fingers dig into her hip and she's thankful that he's not pointed the hook inward because she knows it would be piercing through the tight bodice of the corset she wears, and she can't afford to replace it.

Her fingers are moving swiftly and surely downward and when she tugs the tails of the shirt from his pants, his head falls back against the door hard enough that anyone passing in the hall would hear the thunk of contact. She grins, then, because the buttons are all undone and despite his timid demeanor, he's just the right kind of muscular beneath his clothes. She runs her fingers up along his abs, watching his muscles twitch beneath the wandering digits as she glides them through the hair covering his chest.

Killian has no idea whether he's entered heaven or hell when he walked through that door because Emma's hands light fires beneath his skin. He's hot and hard, already straining against leather and she's barely touched him. He looks on in fascination as she watches the movement of her own hands, even more so when she bends to press her lips above the place where his heart is beating so hard, he's afraid it will skip out of the containment of his ribcage. Her breath flutters across his skin in warm whisps.

"You may think," she starts, her voice husky and low like the flickering flames, "that you're just a deckhand. But I assure you, by the end of the night, you'll feel like a captain." The promise of those words sparks something deep inside of him to life.

"How uh, how do you p-propose making me feel like a captain?"

Instead of answering him, Emma shifts her hands under Killian's parted shirt, brushing his nipples along the way, and is graced with a bitten off curse as she does so. Continuing upward, she lets her hands rest on the warm skin of his bare shoulders as she leans into him. She nips his collarbone before pressing kisses all the way up his neck and to his ear. "Just go with your instincts on that one." Without him even noticing, his shirt falls to his elbows and her fingers are exploring the newly exposed territory of his biceps.

"Uh… Um, love, just wait a second- oh god, I've no bloody clue what I'm doing here," he says all in one breath.

"Well, I think it's pretty clear what you're doing here." She pulls back and looks at him, expecting some kind of smile on his face. She's met with blatant confusion and she raises an eyebrow at him. "Has it been that long?"

"Try ever," he admits, his eyes turning downcast at the admission. She blinks a couple times, absorbing the information he's just given her. He's burning bright red to the tips of his ears at this point, and she's fascinated by the way the color creeps down his neck. She's not sure she's ever seen someone blush so furiously before.

"Can you even be a pirate if you're a virgin?"

"I'm only a deckhand on a pirate ship, love. Look, I can leave if you want me to, now that you know." Dejection creeps into his voice. He's used to this, the build-up and swift let-down when women find out. Sure, he could've done this long ago, but he's always wanted it to mean something. With Emma, despite barely knowing her, he thinks that it actually might. He's shocked she hasn't backed away in revulsion, and is surprised further when she next speaks.

"I'm not going to force your hand in this, but I'm still in if you are." Her fingers twirl through the chain around his neck, the charms knocking against her knuckles. The waiver in his voice was too prominent for this to be some elaborate ruse, and she finds that she genuinely wants him to stay. He considers for only a moment before fervently nodding his head.

"Good. Don't worry," Emma says. The smirk on her face can only be described as predatory. "I'll show you how to use it." She palms the length of his erection, drawing a shuddering breath from him as he attempts to become part of the door behind him. His shirt drops to the floor as his arms drop from her waist, leaving his entire upper half deliciously bare.

"So what would your pirate name be?" she asks casually even as she moves her hand away to press her hips to his again.

"Probably Hook," he manages to wheeze out, holding up the attachment in question.

"Would that be Captain Hook then?"

"Gods yes," he breathes out, his lashes fluttering as he struggles to focus instead of surrendering to his body's whims for release. He wouldn't know what to do with most of those urges, anyway. For the first time since entering her room though, he moves first, capturing her lips with his. He still hasn't fully accepted this as reality because in what world does this goddess have eyes for him?

Removing her lips from his is no easy task. She's discovering she could just as happily explore his mouth, but she manages to kiss her way across the scruff along his jaw until her lips are right against his ear. She whispers everything she has in mind for the evening, in detail, while her fingernails scrape across the nape of his neck. He shivers and blushes scarlet again, because while he's heard more than his fair share of tales, he's never, not once, done most of the things that she just mentioned , and his pants are beginning to feel almost unbearably tight.

"The first step to all of this is getting us both out of our clothes," she instructs, turning her back to him to expose the laces of her corset. "How about a little help?"

He's never even seen a woman naked before. It's bad enough he only has one hand, but how the hell is he supposed to undo the laces on this bloody corset? Slowly, he pulls the cord holding the sides together from each individual eyelet, his fingers brushing against the blouse beneath occasionally. She wants his hands on her faster, though, and she's losing the patience she was determined to hold onto.

"For the love of… Just use your hook!" she blurts out.

"My what?"

"Use your hook to rip them, Killian. I swear to god if I have to wait any longer…" The threatening words do the trick, and she feels the sudden relief of full lungs when the corset falls to the floor, the laces in tatters following it down. Those, at least, are easily replaceable. She turns back to him, salacious grin back in place, and sighs. He inhales sharply and watches in fascination as her chest rises and falls. "There. Much better."

Sparing him another moment of fumbling, she tugs the bottom hem of her blouse free, gracefully pulling it over her head and his vision swims for a minute when he realizes he's never bothered to exhale. She bites her lip to stop from laughing as she presses a hand to his chest.

"Breathe, Killian." The air leaves his lungs in one explosive whoosh and she chuckles quietly. Taking his hand, she pries him away from the door and sits him down on the edge of the bed. She reaches for the ties of his pants, but his hand comes down to cover hers, halting her movements with an almost desperate look on his face.

"If you intend to cover everything on that list of yours, lass, we better keep these on as long as possible," he explains with a pained look on his face. His voice still trembles a little, but she'll be damned if she doesn't hear a touch of Captain Hook in his voice with the suggestion.

Emma moves into the space between his knees, running her fingers through the softness of his hair and bending to kiss him. His hand moves to grip his own knee, knuckles white against the black leather. She huffs out a half exaggerated sigh and pries his fingers from his knee.

Without preamble, she places his palm against her breast and waits patiently until he regains his wits. She guides his hand, showing him how to move his fingers against her nipple, sucking in a sharp breath when he begins moving on his own and pleasure takes over all her other senses. It comes as a shock when he uses the pressure of his hook on her lower back and draws her closer, his mouth closing over her other nipple. His teeth and tongue mimic the movements of his fingers and she can only really be amazed at how quick of a study he is as his name slips from between her lips.

When the coil of desire tightens inside of her, Emma steps back from him. His hook moves to catch her by the pants, but she shifts a little further away to start unlacing her boots, throwing them to the side and stripping her stockings off before straightening again. He fixates on her toes with the most adorable expression she's ever seen and she has to shake her head as she moves back to him. With each step back to the bed, his eyes travel from her feet to where her hands effortlessly unlace her pants. She shimmies the material down her hips and steps out from it.

Killian looks like he's gazing at the sun when his eyes meet hers again. She places her knees on either side of his thighs, pushing him back with a gentle pressure to the center of his chest. With the same pressure, she urges him up and over until he's fully positioned on the mattress. Slowly, she leans over him, her breasts brushing against his chest, the sensation just as much for him as it is for her. Her hips hover just above his as she lets the rest of her body slide against his.

Still straddling him, she plants her hands on either side of his head and works on kissing her way to his lips starting at his collarbone. She nips gently at the skin there, moving on to nose against the scruff on his jaw. The gasps he emits have her slowing down, wanting to draw out his pleasure as much as she can.

And then the world suddenly flips. She isn't quite sure how she ends up on her back, but Killian is kissing his way down her body, stopping to tentatively savor each breast in turn, propped up on his left elbow while his hand attends to whichever nipple his mouth isn't currently occupying. She tries to feel upset about him taking control, but how can she when his fingers are caressing her ribs as his mouth follows. The cool drag of his necklace over her stomach raises goosebumps and she squirms a little at the contrast of heated flesh and metal.

He makes it to her navel before she stills him with a hand in his hair. "Have you ever…?" He shakes his head, his nose brushing back and forth over the skin just below her belly button before he looks up at her.

"But if I don't taste you, Emma, I may just go mad," he says earnestly. And then he's between her thighs, pulling them open a little wider with a gentle hand around her knee.

She's not sure what she's expecting from the man she found alone in a tavern, who claims he's nothing but a deckhand and not a pirate, who honestly walked into the room with her expecting a drink and nothing more, but whatever expectations she thinks she has, he blows them out of the water. Of course, she shouldn't be surprised after his performance thus far. He's either lying about being a virgin or he's the biggest fount of natural talent in the bedroom that ever existed.

Killian takes notice of every noise Emma makes, every shift of her body. Her reactions are what instruct him whether he's doing something right or wrong. His tongue flicks against a spot he's discovered makes her shiver and the resulting gasp has him closing his lips around that one spot. Thanks to the stories of the other men on ship, he has the faintest hint of what will please a woman, so he uses every scrap of knowledge he's gleaned from overheard conversations to please the woman that drowns out all of his own senses. A moment of mental triumph passes through him at finding what he believes to be the clitoris.

He slides one finger into her, the wet heat of her body enveloping the digit as he continues to flick his tongue over the nerve bundle under his mouth. Her moan is higher in pitch than the previous ones, a little louder, and one of her hands tangles in his hair to anchor him in place. He slips another finger inside, thrusting both in and out of her as her hips start pushing up. They build a rhythm together, her breathing coming out in quick succession above him. Pant, breath, moan. Gasp, breath, Killian.

Her free hand tangles in her own hair and he glances up without stopping, admiring the flush that's taken over her face, her neck, the breasts he's decided he wants to bury his face between and never surface again. Her eyes are clamped shut, her feet braced on the mattress as she rolls her hips upward, fucking his mouth without entirely realizing she's doing so.

It's intoxicating, watching her like this, and his fingers brush against a spot inside her that has her crying out sharply, frantic pleas of "Don't stop, right there, please, Killian don't-" and she cuts off when her entire body tenses up, her hand tightening in his hair to the point of pain but all it does is make him moan against her skin. That action is the final pin releasing her as she practically sobs his name. Her back arches sharply off the bed before she melts into the mattress a moment later. When her hand stops fisting the hair on the back of his head, he moves his mouth away slowly, kissing the spot right below her hipbone. He can't help but stare at her in nothing short of awe.

"Whatdyaknow, I might be a natural," he mumbles in wonder from between her thighs. The grin on his face has her smiling widely and she laughs. It's buoyant and bounces around the small room and she looks down at him again, beckoning him back to eye level with the crooking of one finger. He doesn't hesitate as he shifts back to join her, settling his body a few inches away from her, lest she accidentally touch where he's desperate for her to touch and undo him before either of them want him to.

"Give it a moment," she says breathlessly, and he's happy to oblige, instead opting to pull his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. "Oh my god, Killian, I said give me a moment," she groans out, throwing an arm over her eyes as she huffs out another laugh and her smile brightens the lodging more than the measly candles ever could.

"Sorry, love, couldn't resist. You taste divine, by the by."

"You sure you haven't done that before?"

"I wouldn't lie about such things, milady. Would be bad form to do so."

She lifts her arm from over her eyes to look at him, then, and without really meaning to she presses her hand over his cheek. The move is slightly more intimate than she intends, but his eyes flutter closed as he leans into her palm, and she can't pull away, can't look away from the peaceful happiness that rests on his face.

Pushing aside the emotions for the moment, she sets about undoing the laces of his pants, deciding it's long past time for him to join her in nudity. His breath hitches when her fingers brush over where his erection strains against its confines and she pushes him to lay flat on the bed.

"Relax," she murmurs again. "Try to think of the least arousing thing you can for a moment."

His mind wanders as he imagines Captain Blackbeard in a pair of lady's bloomers and corset, winking at him lasciviously. The imaginary Blackbeard wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion, and Killian hears Emma snickering from somewhere near his knees as his face contorts into a grimace. He's only vaguely aware of her succeeding in easing the leather off his hips and he lifts up to allow her to pull them down further. Every part of his body screams for him to take himself in hand and ease the pressure that's been building since she first kissed him, but he fists the blankets instead, adding a few other shipmates to the picture of Blackbeard in his mind.

There are six all lined up in a row by the time Emma's removed his boots, and ten by the time she divests him of the rest of his clothes. He's afraid of never being able to look at the crew the same way again when she returns to his side. His eyes blink open, focusing once more on the beautiful woman, the beautiful, very naked, woman pressed against his very naked side, and he groans when all his hard work crashes apart. That husky laugh escapes from between her lips again and she kisses the side of his mouth.

"Soon," she says, before completely fitting her mouth to his again. She maneuvers them until he's rolled on top of her, and only then does she reach between them to squeeze lightly at the base of his cock as she wraps her legs around his waist.

Killian breaks the kiss, peering between them to watch as she lines him up at her entrance. She lets go when he's right there, instead placing both her hands against his backside to pull him forward, inch by inch. His head drops to her shoulder, unable to look away as he sinks into her.

"Bloody hell," he bites out when he's fully seated inside her. He lifts his head to look at Emma, her bottom lip trapped by her teeth as she takes in the sensation of him filling her.

"Move," she whispers roughly, using her hands on his hips to pull him back out and guiding him back in. He follows the same slow pace she uses to aid him, drawing out and back in with a slow glide. Her hips buck up, trying to persuade him to move faster, but he continues with the same tempo. She waits until he's almost all of the way out again and pushes against his chest, using momentum to flip him onto his back as she settles on her knees. His expression is one of momentary confusion and she winks as she takes his cock in hand again.

The look on his face when she sinks down on him is one of tortured bliss. He clamps his eyes shut and takes as many deep, calming breaths as he can because oh god he's never felt anything this amazing before. Emma sits, her patience restored from his maddeningly slow movements now that she's in control once more. She runs her fingers through his chest hair soothingly even though her smirk belies her true feelings in the matter.

"You gonna be all right there?" she whispers against the shell of his ear. The shudder goes all the way through him and she chuckles darkly. She pushes herself up using her hands on his chest, bracing them there as she starts moving. She rises up to let him slide almost all the way out of her and drops back down quickly. His eyes open as he gasps, his hand flying up to her hip and gripping hard.

"Aye, although I'm not entirely convinced you aren't trying to kill me," he sputters. He shifts to sit with her, drawing his knees up and the change in angle causes her to gasp this time. A lick of desire burns brighter through her as he wraps her hair around his fist. He uses this leverage to tilt her head back, exposing her neck to his wayward mouth. One of her hands grips his shoulder, her nails digging in hard enough to leave marks while the other tangles into the chain around his neck once more. She starts moving again, a quicker pace than his original one, but shallow to start.

She can feel the pressure building low again, her breasts rubbing against his chest as both of their breathing comes quicker. He abandons her neck to pull her face back to his, their lips crashing together roughly. Her hips circle above his and Killian's head drops back while curses spring from his lips.

"Bloody fucking hell, Emma." His voice is nothing but a low growl vibrating against her chest and a breathy moan slips out of her as she picks up her own pace. She starts to lift a little higher on her knees, riding him in earnest as his lips find their way back to her collarbones. He's using what she's done to him as his guide, at this point. Tongue licks here, teeth graze there, all while she moves above him. Eventually, it's all he can do to bury his face against her neck, pressing his lips to whatever skin is closest as the sensations override everything else.

His left arm wraps around her waist, his hook brushing across her back and her breath catches. He leans back to see her eyes dark and pupils wide. He trails the curve of his hook up her back, entranced by the sounds she makes when the metal moves across her skin.

"Touch me," she says against his lips as she captures them once more. His hand slides across the faint sheen of sweat on her torso until he can reach with his thumb, circling and pressing right above where they're joined.

Once again, his name falls from her lips, teetering between prayer and curse as she encourages him to keep going. Her walls begin to flutter around his cock and it takes a great deal of control to not lose it before she does. He focuses on her face until her climax rolls through her moments later. He could no sooner stop his own release at that point than he could stop the tides from rising and falling.

Emma's eyes are trained on him when he comes, jaw clenched tight as his eyes slide closed, and she moves a few more times, aiding both of them in coming back down. When he's entirely spent, he collapses backwards on the mattress, dragging her down against his chest with the arm still around her back. She releases her hold on his necklace, her palm bearing indents of the charms she held captive, as she rests on top of him for a moment.

"Not bad for a first time," she manages to say, still catching her breath. The blissful smile on his face is evident, even as he tries to feign indignation.

"That was bloody brilliant, and you know it." She hums her agreement as she nips at his lips. She rolls off of him, lying next to him on the bed and they both stare at the ceiling as their bodies cool and their breathing slows to normal.

"Feeling more like a pirate now?"

"Aye, I'd say I have a bit of pirate in me now."

"I just had a whole lot of pirate in me," she says, turning her head to look at him with the smirk she just can't hide.

He still blushes. It may take a lot more time and practice to stop that reaction, but the words come unbidden to him as he locks eyes with her. "You can captain my vessel any time you wish, darling," and he winks at the end of the sentence.

She chortles, rolling to bury her face against his chest and the corresponding grin on his face will not soon be vanishing. He wraps his arm around her, smoothing his hand across her neck and shoulders, mapping out each inch of skin he comes across.

She doesn't feel the urge to rush him out, to get rid of him so she can splay across the entire bed. Instead she accepts when he tentatively lets his hand rest on the small of her back and curls against him. At least for tonight, this is fine. Besides, how much harm could it do to allow a one-handed pirate with an affinity for goat's milk to stay the night in her bed?

When he becomes the captain of his own ship, she's still right next to him at the helm. She's with him as they explore the seas, rulers of their own fates. She's above and below, and every place in between, as they crawl into their bed in the captains' quarters at the end of each day. And while it's common to hear Captain Hook at any given point on the Jolly Roger, it's likely to hear Captain Swan just as often.