Author: Some cursed lips smut, set after the boathouse confrontation in "A Curious Thing". One shot. Angsty - you have been warned.
My Kiss is Poison But My Love is True
"Swan"
His voice was a hoarse rasp, his head thrown back against the door while she trailed her lips over his neck.
The Wicked Witch could go straight to hell. She'd taken too much, and Emma would not let her have him.
His lips may be cursed, but hers weren't.
He rocked against her helplessly. He'd come to her room at Granny's, to apologize, to yell at her for believing he could be working with Zelena, Emma didn't know. He'd hammered on the door with his hook and she'd looked at the suitcase, the clothes she'd thrown into it hanging over the sides. Henry remembered. there was no point in staying here any longer. He was with Regina, the woman she had to share him with again, while she packed their things and brought them to the loft. Back with her parents, to the one place where Zelena couldn't touch them, couldn't ruin them.
She wouldn't cry. If she started crying she'd never stop, she'd flood the whole cursed town with her tears.
Maybe that would finally melt the bitch.
Emma had flung the door open and the hook had been raised up in mid-hammer, mere inches from her face. She flinched and he yanked it back, looking guilty. He'd been looking guilty and shamefaced for days and she hadn't known what was wrong but she blamed herself.
She still did.
It wasn't really his lips that were cursed.
She was the curse.
Graham was dead, Neal was dead, now Hook was slipping away from her too. Anyone who wanted to be with her, anyone who tried, she lost them.
No. Not him.
She'd hauled him into the room and slammed the door, shoving him against it and cutting off any words with the press of her lips on his skin. She kissed the scruff on his chin, the hollow of his throat, down the sliver of chest peeking through his open shirt and back up, sucking, licking, biting, leaving marks behind that branded him as hers.
"What are you doing?"
She pulled back.
"Don't," she said, "Don't ask questions."
Hook nodded, biting his lips and she stared at them, wanting nothing more than to feel them, taste them, to relive Neverland and New York, to make out like teenagers did, when nothing was more thrilling than a kiss.
Damn witch. She was going to buy The Wizard of Oz soundtrack, mount speakers on the roof of her car, and drive around Storybrooke blasting "Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead" until she came out of hiding.
Emma pulled off her shirt, watching his eyes go wide, and then she was on him again, tracing his ear with her tongue and pressing their hips together. He was hard under the leather, she could feel it, and his hook was at the small of her back, cold metal on bare skin, pulling her closer. Hook ground against her, a moan escaping him, and she wanted to kiss him so badly, she wanted to swallow his moans and feel his tongue in her mouth. His hand reached up for her breast, pulling her bra down and rolling the nipple between his fingers. A jolt of heat went right between her legs.
"She said if my lips touched yours, your magic would be taken. But I don't trust her that I can safely kiss you anywhere else, love. I want to, believe me, I want nothing more, but I won't do that to you. I won't destroy your power for her, I won't leave you defenceless against her, I'll die before I let that happen,"
She felt herself sag slightly against him. Hook wasn't lying.
No, not him too. Too much death, too much loss. There would be no kissing, no letting his lips touch her anywhere. It was too dangerous, she needed her magic, she was the Saviour, she had to save everyone.
"I came back to save you."
His hand went into her hair, pulling her head back and making her look at him. The blue eyes were narrowed and dark and she shivered under his gaze.
"When this is over and you've defeated her, I am going to spend hours, Emma, hours kissing every inch of your body. I will bloody bathe you with my tongue, your mouth, your neck, your sweet breasts."
He tapped his finger on each part he named as he spoke, leaning closer so that she could feel his breath on her face but keeping a careful distance from her lips.
"And most certainly, here."
Hook rubbed between her legs and even through the layers of clothes it felt amazing, she was wet, so wet, and she wanted it, she wanted his mouth there, right there, she wanted to grip his head with her thighs and ride his face and find out if his tongue was as talented at that as it was with quick remarks and flirty comments.
It would be, she knew it.
Emma fumbled with the clasps of his vest, popping them open while he kept talking.
"I shall start at the inside of your knee. Are you ticklish, Swan? Will you laugh when I kiss that little crease and rub my beard on your skin? Then I'll make my way up your thighs, I bet they're the colour of fresh new cream and I will drink it all in, find every freckle, until I have reached my goal, that glorious treasure that I have dreamed of possessing."
Her fingers were shaking, clumsy on the buttons of his shirt. They weren't slippery plastic like she was used to, they were metal, and caught on the fabric when she tried to maneuver them through the little holes. Her head was bent over her work and his hand was still at the apex of her thighs, his thumb pressing right where she ached the most.
She got the shirt open and Hook shoved his hand down her pants, right into her underwear without preamble and sliding fingers between lips he couldn't kiss. Had Zelena thought of those lips as well when she'd cursed him? She probably had.
Bitch.
Emma watched as he pulled his hand back out and popped his fingers into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head and the hook hit the door with a sharp thunk.
"Bloody hell, love, your taste."
She needed to taste him. Emma buried her nose in the dark hair that covered his chest and grabbed his hips. She traced his collarbones with her tongue and went down his sternum, feeling the taut muscles under his skin that went even tighter under her touch.
When she settled onto her knees and looked up at Hook, he was still licking his fingers. A thick eyebrow rose and he met her eyes.
Keeping their gazes locked, Emma went for the laces of his pants and untied the knot, tugging them open and and yanking the pants down his thighs, letting him spring free. She licked her lips and he shuddered.
Instead of taking him in her mouth, Emma kissed him instead. She kissed the full length of him, the velvet skin and the silky tip, all of him, softly, slowly, and she heard him gasp. His hips rocked forward, pressing him against her lips, and she kissed him over and over again.
"Swan...Emma...love."
She stood up, toeing off her shoes and unbuttoning her pants. Hook pushed off the door and let his coat fall to the floor, the open vest and shirt following.
His boots, her underwear, his pants, they were all removed until they were both naked save for the brace that held his hook to his arm. Emma looked at it.
"It's not a pretty sight."
They were both damaged, they were both scarred. Wounds healed, but what was underneath was never truly the same as it had been before.
When the brace came off and she lifted his wrist to her mouth, feeling the puckered and worn skin with her lips, Hook's eyes closed and she saw a single tear escape, running down his cheek. She held on to the place where his hand should be and put her arm around his neck, pulling his head down so she could kiss away the trail, tasting the path of the salty drop. She angled her head, her mouth on his cheek right next to his lips.
One brush, one press, and she wouldn't be the Saviour anymore, the one they sent away until they needed her to break a curse and bring back their happy endings. Theirs, not hers, her happy ending was gone, because it had never begun.
If she let her magic die, if she wasn't useful anymore, would they still want her then?
"Emma," Hook warned, like he knew what she was thinking, and he pulled his head back even as he pressed the rest of his body against her, his chest against her breasts, his hardness against her stomach. She throbbed with need, she needed him inside her, she needed him to make her forget, if only for those few brief moments. His fingers were back, slipping inside her, stretching her and making her drop her head to his neck, holding on with arms around his shoulders while he started to thrust.
"Don't stop!" she moaned.
"Never," he growled back, fucking her with his hand, hard and insistent, Emma wrapped her leg around his hip and he pushed her right to the edge and over it with a sureness that took her breath away. Her knees threatened to give out and he was walking her back to the bed, pushing her down onto her back and kneeling between her thighs.
Hook looked down at her and brought his hand to his mouth. He slowly dragged each finger across his lips, making them gleam with her wetness, before sliding them over his tongue. It was the sexiest thing she had ever seen and she felt her nipples tighten and a hot rush where his fingers had just been, her body getting ready for what was to come.
There should still be condoms in her toiletry bag from that weekend at the B&B upstate with Wal….
Goddammit! The tears threatened again and she would not cry! Not over him, the bastard didn't deserve it.
Fucking green-skinned witch bitch! Emma was going to get her and her little monkey minion too.
"Love?"
Concern was etched on his face and she just wanted to forget. Emma rolled off the bed and got a condom out of the bag, pushing away the memories of the large Victorian inn and the fireplace in the room and the homemade blueberry muffins they'd eaten at breakfast. A real memory with a fake man and his false love.
If Hook hadn't come for her, if she had just been kept unaware and out of the way, then what would have happened when Zelena won? Would she have called him back to her side and Emma would have just woken up one day to find him gone? It would have been like Neal or her parents all over again.
Abandoned. Left behind. The agony of never knowing why, just knowing that you weren't wanted, that you weren't enough.
Hook wanted her. He lay sprawled on the bed, his erection against his stomach and his impossibly blue eyes fixed entirely on her told her how much he wanted her. Emma ripped the foil package open and unrolled the condom onto his straining length. He arched up into her hand, his mouth falling open in surprise.
"Men wear these here so women don't get pregnant," she explained quickly.
He propped himself on his elbows and looked down.
"Then how...Henry?"
She didn't want to explain about seventeen and stupid so she just threw her leg over him and grasped him in her hand, making him fall back and look up at her with a heavy-lidded gaze. Emme felt his knees bend behind her and he surged up, pushing into her as she pushed down onto him, bracing her hands on his chest.
"So long," he mumbled, "Waited so long for this...for you."
She didn't really want to think about that either, about how long he had waited so she didn't, she just started to move, taking him as deep as she could in slow rolls, he was thick and big and he filled her, stretched her and it felt so fucking good the way nothing else had since she had drunk the potion and woken up from her year-long nap.
Emma dropped forward, her hair spreading around them as she tongued his nipple. Hook kept thrusting up into her while she sucked on his neck again, his hand on her hip, guiding their rhythm.
"Can't even kiss you properly. When she's dead I'm going to dance on her grave."
He pulled her down to his chest and rolled them, keeping them joined while he settled on top of her and wrapped her legs around his waist. Hook's breath was hot in her ear, his hips bucked against her frantically and Emma's eyes closed.
"I am going to kiss you everywhere, I am going to lick you everywhere, I am going to taste you everywhere. Do you hear me, Emma? There won't be a dry inch on you when I'm done."
She moaned helplessly at the words, running her hands up and down his back. She was getting close again, she was going to come, she needed to come and she chased the release frantically, lifting her hips to meet his, clutching his ass and making him go harder, faster. But it wasn't enough.
"Yes, love, yes. Show me how you want it."
"Harder! I need more...I need…please!"
Hook went up on his knees, hooking his arms under her legs and pulling her up his thighs. He pushed into her, the angle deep and if she wasn't so dripping wet for him it would have hurt. But it felt amazing and she touched herself while he pumped into her, flicking her fingers over the slick skin until she felt it, that burst under her skin and running through her veins, her eyes slamming shut and stars exploding behind her lids.
His groan was rough and broken as he slammed into her one final time and pulsed inside of her while she was still gripping him with the aftershocks of her own release, both shaking and sweating and finally spent.
"I need to finish packing."
She said it staring up at the ceiling, not looking at the man next to her on the bed.
He tensed, "New York?"
"My parents. We're going to stay there. Henry knows now, and it's just safer."
No place in this messed up town was really safe.
Hook's hand hesitantly stroked up and down her arm.
"It's good that the lad got his memories back. I know you didn't want that to happen, but love, why didn't you want him to remember?"
Emma blinked at that. He didn't know? The one person who she thought would understand, who usually understood her, and even he hadn't figured it out.
"Because now he remembers…everything. He remembers that I wasn't strong enough to keep him. He remembers that I gave him up."
Her own mother had blithely told her that she gave Henry the book because he was struggling to understand how he could have been left behind. The words had cut her, wounded her, she knew that struggle, she still had the scars.
Emma would have traded knowing the truth about her parents and Neal, would have gone the rest of her life believing that they had just abandoned her to her fate, if it meant sparing Henry that same pain.
But now it was too late.
Hook froze, the hand stilling on her arm. She turned her head and saw the realization dawn in his eyes.
The same look...the ones who have been left behind.
"Swan," he breathed.
Emma looked back up at the ceiling.
She wasn't going to cry.
The tears came anyway.