"I cannot believe you talked me into this."
"I only suggested that you sign Henry up for the course! How was I supposed to know it was designed for two people?"
Emma wanted to argue with her best friend, but she knew Mary Margaret was right. It didn't keep her from grumbling under her breath about it. Mary Margaret just chuckled over the rim of her coffee cup before she took a sip, turning back to face the bay, the sounds of her home surrounding her.
When Emma and Henry had first moved to the town more than a decade before, it had been a rough transition. Somehow, Neal had found her after she'd been released from the penitentiary, and when he'd found out about Henry, the dark side that had initially drawn her to him was suddenly to be feared. He became aggressive in a way he'd never been before, and on the night he raised a hand to her, though he never laid the blow, she knew it was only a matter of time. So she gathered up Henry and her meager belongings and fled.
She made it to the east coast, driving until the little Bug gave out and refused to drive any further, a tire blowing and sending her into road sign. She didn't believe in fate or any god, but when she heard the rumble of a motorcycle not five minutes after her car had gone careening off the side of the road, she sent up a silent thank you.
The motorcyclist pulled up and quickly jumped off the bike. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a young man with blue eyes and a kind smile. He approached her quickly, making her jerk back, an innate fear she couldn't suppress.
He immediately stilled, raising his hands, "Hi there. My name's August. Are you alright? Do you need help?"
Emma had remained silent, too aware of being a woman alone in the middle of nowhere. But then Henry had made a noise from where she'd had him swaddled and sleeping in her arms.
As soon as August realized that she was holding a child, he jerked backward. Emma couldn't help the wash of bitterness. Of course he wanted to help the damsel in distress, but as soon as he saw she had a child, then she wasn't worth saving anymore. But in the first of many surprises the town had in store for her, he'd only stepped back to give himself space to take off the leather jacket he was wearing. Once he had it off, he surprised her again.
"Please take my jacket. No child or their mother should be standing out in this cold. Would you mind if I wrapped it around your shoulders?"
It was his sincere and honest respect of her boundaries, even though she was a stranger, that got her to speak.
"Yes please," her voice was hoarse from disuse, and she didn't realize just how cold she was until he carefully stepped forward and draped the thick leather over her, making sure to tuck it tightly around Henry as well. Once he had, he stepped back, a smile on his face.
Emma nodded, "Thank you... August. And it's Emma."
His grin widened, "Nice to meet you." Then his smile fell. "I'm going to head into town and stop by the sheriff's station. They'll send the cruiser out to get you, and we can deal with your car in the morning."
She knew that he was trying to be comforting, but the words "sheriff's station" had her quickly shaking her head, "No, no it's ok. I can just walk, it fine. There's no need to get the police involved."
Her quick refusal had his brows rising, and she could tell, as his eyes flicked over the whole scene, that he was assessing everything. And for the final time, that night at least, he surprised her.
"Alright. Let me call my boyfriend, Jefferson. I'll see if he knows anyone who can come get you."
She nodded, a small smile working its way across her face in relief. It took a hushed phone call and another twenty minutes before headlights appeared around the curve in the road. A few moments later an old mini van pulled up, and a tired but cheerful looking woman hopped out.
"Hey, I'm Mary Margaret!"
In short order, the woman had both her and Henry settled in the guest portion of her home, in an upper loft area, with nothing more than a gentle smile and no questions asked.
Over the next few weeks, Emma was introduced to the small town, and the small town's kindness. She never paid for a meal, every person who came to see her insisting that they pay. And when she was introduced to the Sheriff, Graham, she found that she might actually enjoy the small town life.
She started out working at the bayside diner, Granny's, but when the tourist season began to pick up Graham reached out to her and offered her a part time position in the Sheriff's office doing paperwork and answering the phones. She'd been hesitant to accept at first, but after he made several remarks about the past being in the past, she accepted. He allowed her to have Henry there in the station and was extremely understanding when she needed to stay at the loft to care for him.
The months turned into years. She and Graham dated for a while, the mellow man managing to soothe the wounds Neal had left, but after a time they both agreed that they weren't right for each other. When Graham became interested in the newly arrived Aussie who had decided to bring her father's shipping business to the port, Emma was the first to high five him when he came in to his morning shift a half hour late and his shoes on the wrong feet.
With the flood of money that Tink's father's business brought in, suddenly there was a lot more traffic in the town and a lot more money in the budget. Henry was old enough to attend pre-school, and Mary Margaret was only too happy to play babysitter to him. So Graham offered her a full time deputy position at the station.
It took four full years for Neal to find them, and during that time, Emma found a peace and place for herself that she'd never known before. She was sitting in her usual spot at Granny's counter, the morning crowd bustling around her, when he decided to confront her. Emma wasn't chatty by nature, but enough people had pulled bits and pieces of her story from her, and because the town was essentially a hive mind, most of the town had knitted together a more or less complete picture of what had brought her to their little corner of paradise.
He had barged into the diner, "Ems! I finally found you!"
It was as if someone had poured ice down her back, and she'd turned to look at him, fear creeping down her spine. He came up, crowding her against the diner countertop and blocking her exit.
"What the hell are you doing in an old backwater like this? And where's my son? I've humored your little game, now it's time for you to come home."
He had reached for her wrist.
But his words hit something in her. Home.
She yanked her hand away, sliding to standing. "Get the fuck away from me."
Any light in his eyes went out, and his face stilled. "Don't do this Ems. Don't make me do something I don't want to."
She scoffed, "Oh you're gonna do something Neal? Here? In public?"
Neal sneered at her, "These small town idiot don't give a fuck about anyone else's business. They won't bother, especially not for some knocked up ex con whore like you." Then he reached for her again.
She was a moment away from clocking him in the face when a metallic click echoed through the diner. The very still, very silent diner. At the sound Neal froze, his eyes sliding past her, widening as he stared.
"Now you best think about your next move very carefully boy. Because you are half a mistake away from ending up with a mouthful of lead."
Neal slowly drew back from Emma, giving her the space she needed to slip out of her seat and into the open floor of the diner, taking in the scene. Every single person there was standing, all coiled tight. August and Jefferson in the corner booth, Jeff holding his daughter Grace to him and August's hand tucked into his jacket, resting where Emma knew his switchblade to reside. The Dwarves, as the local trawler crew had been nicknamed, each were holding a piece of cutlery, forks and knives. Emma's heart clenched in affection at Dopey, whose normally gentle face was scrunched up in a scowl, a spoon ready to be wielded in his hand.
The town librarian, Belle, was hidden behind her reformed thief boyfriend, Will, who's hand was also hidden in his jacket, and Emma had an inkling that it probably wasn't a switchblade he was fingering. David, the town's most eligible bachelor, Mary Margaret's life-long crush, and resident veterinarian was just finishing up rolling up his shirt sleeves. Others had their phones out, ready to call the police, and even the old crotchety pawn shop owner that she was constantly at odds with was holding his gold-capped cane less like a walking stick and more like a baseball bat.
But it was the indomitable Granny that had Neal's undivided attention. Or more specifically, the beautifully polished and well-kept double barrel Winchester rifle that was currently cocked and aimed straight between Neal's eyes.
"Now, let me explain something to you, boy.," Granny barked out, the barrel of her rifle not wavering even as she spoke. "In this here 'backwater,' we have a code of sorts. It's simple, so us 'small town idiots' can even remember it. Do you know what it is?"
She paused, obviously waiting for an answer. Neal remained silent, eyes flitting around the room, assessing the situation. This clearly did not please Granny, who's thumb slid up to pull back the hammer on the second barrel, the loud click drawing Neal's focus back to her face.
"I asked you a question, sonny boy."
Emma felt a wash of satisfaction when she could hear his very audible gulp.
"No." His voice shook.
An almost feral smile slid over Granny's face, "I didn't think you would. See the one rule we have here is this: We take care of our own. Above anything else. And if you threaten one of our own? Lets just say if someone finds pieces of a body up in the hills after the spring thaw, well…. Sheriff Graham understands that the wildlife around here can be vicious sometimes. Lots of...wolves and things."
Emma could actually see the beads of sweat as they began to roll down Neal's neck, and she felt a deep pleasure in the all consuming fear she knew he was feeling. The silence continued for several moments before she saw Neal's self preservation kick in.
He whipped up that charming smile, the one that had won her so many years before, and he opened his mouth to try and oil his way out of the tight spot he had squeezed himself into.
But before he could get out a single syllable, the door banged open and Graham thundered across the threshold. Emma had never felt a threat from Graham, in the whole time she'd known him. But as he stepped into the diner, a sinister air emanated off of him. This was the man who had led the New York City's homicide division for the four most successful years in the city's history. He was terrifying.
Quickly he pulled out handcuffs, and before Neal had time to react, Graham was slamming him forward into the counter, reciting the Miranda rights in a voice so cold that Emma actually had to double check that it was the same man who had a hard time holding a conversation without smiling.
As the cuffs ratched around his wrists, Neal finally seemed to find his voice, "Hey what the hell man I haven't done anything! What is this?"
In a move that shocked the whole diner, Graham slammed Neal's face into the white formica countertop, "I did not say that you could speak. You are under arrest for stalking, disruption of the peace, and assault."
"Assault? What the hell, I didn't even touch the bitch!"
Graham yanked Neal around to face him, "I have a diner full of witnesses who will all testify that they saw you violently attack your ex-girlfriend in the middle of a public area, with the intent to kidnap her child. It was only through the intervention of several bystanders that you were able to be subdued enough to be arrested. So I think you'll find that you did."
And without further ado, Graham hauled Neal out of the diner and out of her life. He called her later and forced her to take the next week off, and when she came back to work, the holding cells were empty. She never asked what happened to him and no one ever told her, and the only thing that was ever said on the matter was when Graham came up to her on her first day back, put a hand on her shoulder, and said quietly, "He will never bother you or your son again."
She had given him a nod, emotions running high. He pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her temple, allowing her to compose herself. Then it was over. She never heard from or about Neal again.
Life was simple for her after that. Henry grew up. Mary Margaret and David finally stopped dancing around each other and got together. The peridot ring that David gave her not six months later went really well with the smile on Mary Margaret's face. Granny's granddaughter, Ruby, came back from graduate school, her girlfriends Mulan and Dorothy in tow, happy as a perfectly balanced threesome that Granny adopted with the same gruff affection she showed all her unofficial family. The town and port prospered as Tink's father's business grew. August officially adopted Grace as his when he and Jefferson got married.
Life was good.
Except for…
Mary Margaret cleared her throat, "So…."
Emma sighed, already anticipating what was coming. That was Mary Margaret's I know you don't want to hear it but I'm going to say it anyway voice. Which could only mean that she was about to bring up a potential date idea.
It had seemed to be Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Belle's mission as of late to find Emma someone to date. And it was starting to get on her nerves.
Yes, Henry was thirteen and starting as a freshman at the local high school. And yes, get dirty looks from all the soccer moms when they were finally able to do the math. But Emma didn't need anything or anyone else but Henry. And Henry had more than enough male role models, or in the case of Victor Whale, the eccentric doctor and the occasional addition to Ruby, Mulan, and Dorothy, examples of how not to grow up to be.
"Ruby and I were talking, and she says that she has someone she wants you to meet."
"Mary Margaret, I have told you again and again, I am not interested."
Mary Margaret's face fell, "Please just see him Emma. He sounds nice!"
Emma picked up on the word choice, "Sounds nice? Have you even met him?" Mary Margaret's guilty face was answer enough. "No. I am not meeting some random dick donor that Ruby hunted out for me."
"Emma!" Mary Margaret scolded her, before something flashed across her face. Emma's eyes narrowed.
"Mary Margaret….. " the woman was suddenly very concerned with the dregs of coffee in her cup. "What did you do?"
Her shoulders slumped, before she gave in to Emma's hard stare. "Ok but please don't be mad. Ruby kind of already told him you'd meet him for drinks."
Emma was shocked at how furious she was, and not wanting to say something she'd regret, she jerked back from the table to stand. Mary Margaret seemed equally as shocked, especially when she looked up into Emma's face and saw her expression.
Emma took a deep breath, and managed to keep her fury from making her shout, but the result was a cold voice she only ever used for work. "I will meet with him once. And you will tell everyone else that I am done. Do you understand me?"
Mary Margaret gave a slow and cautious nod. Then Emma left, storming out towards the bay. She hated being mad at her friends, but she couldn't help the anger coursing through her. She understood that Mary Margaret and the others just wanted her to be happy. But was it so hard to believe that she could be happy with just herself?
She ended up storming down to the docks, seeking solace in the smell of the sea and the lapping of the water against the piers. She passed the yachts that had started taking up residence there during the summer. Her eyes were drawn to a beautiful tall-masted ship at the end of the pier though. She wander over to it, eyes tracing the lines of the hull from the dock, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun, before her mind returned to the issue that had brought her to the sea for solace.
"Fucking interfering friends…. Fucking guilt tripping me…fucking date…..fucking men," she muttered, finding a rock and hurling it into the ocean. It was pointless, but if felt good.
"Something on your mind lass?"
The low voice called from above her, and Emma jerked around to see the shadow of a man leaning against the rail of the tall masted ship. It was hard to tell but it seemed as if he was facing away from her.
"Its none of your fucking business mister," she snapped out, irritated that her brooding had been interrupted.
"Aye, apologies, I didn't mean to intrude,"came from above, and to her shock, the words were sincere and he started to move away from the railing. And immediately kindled regret in her gut. There was no need for her to take her frustrations out on a stranger.
"Hey wait, wait," she called out, shoulders slumping. The man paused in his retreat. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm just a little bit…. frustrated with some of my friends right now."
While she spoke, she was able to see his silhouette come back to the railing, and for some reason, that was heartening to her.
"No worries lass," she was able to make out a flippant hand wave. "What is it that has you all riled up?"
She huffed out a breath, and for some reason found herself saying, "Eh it's not much. Just…. a couple of my friends have been trying to set me up on blind dates, despite my telling them not too. And this morning, my friend told me that they'd already told the guy I would meet with him, without even asking me!" She realized she shouted the last part and reigned herself in. "I'm just…. I don't like being mad at them, but how can I not be when they don't respect my wishes. I don't like being backed into a corner….." her voice trailed off, realizing that she'd just dumped her emotional garbage onto a stranger she couldn't even see clearly.
"I completely understand where you are coming from. My brother is a wonderful man, but sometimes he forgets that I have a mind of my own to think with, and makes decisions that directly affect me without my consent."
Emma nodded, gesturing vaguely towards him, "Yeah exactly!" she paused, considering how personal the next question was. For some reason she got the feeling the man wouldn't mind. "How do you deal with it?"
"I remind myself it's because he loves me. He wouldn't bother if he didn't care. And those we love try to do what they think is best for us. Sometimes they're right. And sometimes, they're wrong."
His words supported what Emma had been trying to convince herself of, and she realized that a large part of her anger had ebbed away while she'd conversed with the stranger. Small town life must be getting to her, because she probably would never have spoken to someone like this a few years ago. But sharing her troubles with someone and having them reaffirm what she knew was soothing.
She sighed, suddenly realizing how ridiculous she must look, shouting to a shadow of a stranger from the dock. She should really be making her way back to the house to check in on Henry. And apologize to Mary Margaret for losing her temper. And call Graham about a week off.
She gave another sigh, running a hand through her hair. She'd decided that for Henry's birthday, she was going to give him a class. Specifically, a A Lesson in the Arts of Privateership Throughout the Ages or as she had taken to calling it in her head, Pirate Classes. But some fine print she'd somehow missed stipulated that anyone under the age of thirteen needed a parental guardian. And since the only opening she'd been able to find was the week before Henry's birthday, when she'd received a call from a one William Smee verifying that Henry would be showing up on Monday with an escort.
David and Mary Margaret were both unavailable and while she loved Ruby and Belle, she didn't trust them to resist Henry's puppy eyes. So she had assured ….Mr. Smee… that Henry would be there bright and early, his mom in tow. Mr. Smee had been delighted to hear that her son was coming with a parent.
"That just never happens anymore Miss!"
And so Emma felt like she'd been backed into another corner. But she knew that the look on Henry's face would be absolutely worth it.
"It seems as if there is still more that plagues your mind, love."
The low voice drew her from her thoughts and she flushed slightly, looking back up at the shadow.
"Ahem," she coughed slightly to cover her awkwardness, "yeah, sorry. I, umm, need to get going." She started to walk away, when the voice called out to her.
"You are more than welcome aboard lass, if you need some time away from…. How was it you put it? Ah yes… fucking interfering friends and fucking men."
Emma laughed awkwardly, "Something like that. And, um, thanks...for listening and the offer. But I do really need to get going."
"Aye. It was my pleasure lass. I'm sure I'll see you in the future. The next time the sea is calling to you, I'll bet."
Emma looked up at the railing in shock, because how could a stranger possible know that? But the shadow of the man had already vanished. So, with a sigh and one last glance over her shoulder, she made her way back home to Henry.
It took most of the afternoon, and Henry offering his support, for her to build up the nerve to call Mary Margaret to apologize. And it seemed like Mary Margaret was equally as nervous about calling to apologize to her, most specifically because Ruby refused to back down about the date and had appointed Mary Margaret as messenger of the date arrangements.
Emma managed to keep herself under control through the phone conversation, but once she hung up, she let out a growl.
"Still having you meet the dude huh?" came Henry's amused voice from the doorway to the living room. Emma turned, her scowl turning into a rueful smile at the raised eyebrow on her son's face.
"Yeah, and apparently, Ruby anticipated that I would be less than pleased about this, because she scheduled it for tonight."
Henry laughed, "She knows you too well."
Emma scoffed, "Yeah well, I guess you are gonna be on your own for tonight." Henry's eyes lit up. "But you need to make sure that you go to bed at a reasonable hour. We are going to be getting up early tomorrow, ok?"
Henry's smile melted into a pout, "But Mom it's Summer! I'm supposed to be able to sleep in and relax and …"
"Henry," she cut him off sharply. He immediately looked contrite.
"Yeah, sorry Mom. I'll be in bed at regular time."
She looked at her son, knowing that he would absolutely do as he just promised and couldn't help the soft mushy feeling that settled in her. Her son was just the best.
"Maybe not that early," she amended. His eyes lit up.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He dove forward to wrap his arms around her, and she savored the feel of his hug. She buried her nose in his hair, breathin in the smell that was unique to Henry. Ever since he was a baby, any time she was overwhelmed, she could breath him in and know that, wherever she was, she was home.
Henry allowed her several heartbeats to just hold him, before he gave her a tight squeeze and let her go. As he stepped back, he chuckled, "So how long before you have to be there?"
She snorted, "Not long enough."
And when she found herself sitting across from her date, she couldn't help but think that she'd been a little too on the nose.
Walsh was nice enough, but he was just so… average. He talked about his job, let his eyes wander past the cut of her blouse, ordered steak, mentioned his finances, talked vaguely about sports, and implied that he was well versed in stocks and investments.
There was nothing remarkable about him.
So when dessert was offered, she politely declined and made her excuses.
"Ah there's no reason to play coy," he tried for sultry but it came across as just awkward.
She gave an uncomfortable laugh, "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. But I really need to be getting home.I have an early morning tomorrow."
So she bid him good night and headed home, relieved that the date was over and more convinced than ever that she and Henry were better off without anyone else. Then she set her alarm bright and early, ready to take Henry to Pirate Camp.
When her alarm went off, she decided it was way too early. She groaned as she fumbled for her phone, viciously attacking the silence button before she slowly sat upright. But she managed to get herself moving, and after practically chugging a cup of coffee, blessing her investment in an automatic coffee maker, she was almost mentally prepared for getting her kid out of bed.
It took the bribe of hot chocolate from Granny's to get him up and going. So in short order, another cup of coffee, and one hot chocolate later, Emma and Henry ended up on the docks but the tall masted ship, bundled up against the morning breeze, several other pairs of kids and adults and some kids by themselves.
Emma check her watch as Henry turned from marvelling at the ship to look at her, "Mom….. what are we doing here?"
Emma gave him a smirk, "This, Henry, is your birthday present."
His face scrunched up, "But what is-"
"Everyone on their feet for the Captain," came a hard shout from above them, drawing everybody's eyes up to the railing of the ship.
And Emma felt her mouth drop open.
Because standing above them, lit in the morning sun, was a man dress from head to toe in black leather, a dramatic leather duster, and a vest that accentuated the trimness of his body. With the leather collar popped up and his raven black hair dancing in the slight breeze, he looked as if he'd stepped straight out of a porn film.
Silence had fallen in the wake of the demanding pronouncement, and Emma watched as the man surveyed the crowd, every bit of him commanding the attention of those below him. Emma really didn't mind the idea of being below him. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she shook it away.
Seriously? Hadn't she decided the night before that was a no no?
"That's better," his voice echoed across the docks. "Now here's how it works on my ship. I make the demands, you follow them. If you think you are worthy of sailing upon the finest ship upon seas, the Jolly Roger, then step aboard. But be warned, when learning about the pirates of the past, you may just find yourself getting lost among them along the way."
With that pronouncement, he swept dramatically away from the rail. Henry turned to her with wide eyes, "Did you get me Pirate lessons for my birthday?"
The way his whole face glowed had her laughing, "Yes I did. Now come on!"
Henry took off, and Emma followed behind him laughing. This was the best idea she'd ever had.
This had been the worst idea Emma had ever had. It was the end of last day of Pirate camp and the whole thing had been the most vicious torture. And the mastermind to her agony was one Killian Jones, Captain of the Jolly Roger and the most attractive man she's ever met. Day one, he'd strutted around the deck of his ship, winning over the kids with a few well placed tricks and his enthusiasm, while he won over the chaperones with witty banter, charming the women and laughing with the men.
He'd had the kids familiarize themselves with the ship, having them learn termanology while spinning tales of adventure on the high seas. Emma was as entranced as Henry, his mastery of storytelling, pausing in all the right places and fluctuating his tone.
But then, after the lunch break, he brought out an armful of wooden swords and it was all downhill from there. Because he slowly peeled off the leather duster and rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, exposing his forearms. She could picture those hands sliding down her body, those forearms bracing her as she rode his lithe form into ecstasy.
"Fancy a duel lass?"
His question, warm in her ear, drew her from her day dream. She felt a flush rising up in her cheeks, but met his challenge head on, taking the proffered wooden sword and squaring up against him in the middle of the deck.
The match was not long, but she counted no less than seven innuendoes that had her underwear melting off her as they spared. In a final desperate move, she dove at him,and he flipped her easily, forcing her to her back on the deck, letting his weight fall heavily on her, pinning her to the wood. His face was only inches from hers and for a moment, time seemed to stop.
His eyes flicked down to her lips. She licked her own.
But then Henry shouted and the moment was broken. He slowly stood, a wicked grin in place and an eyebrow raised playfully on his face.
And that was how the week continued. It seemed every chance he had to get close to her, breathing double entendres in her ear, he took.
Emma's dreams had been haunted by strong, rough hands and a quicksilver tongue. More than once, she's woken to find her hand sliding down her body. And more often than not, she gave in to the throbbing in her body and picture that delicious peek of chest hair rubbing along her skin, the roughness of his against her legs, the stubble of his beard scratching against her neck.
And with Henry on his way to get ice cream with some of the other kids, she had decided that enough was enough. This ended. Today.
She was able to act busy until the last of the guests left, waiting silently out of sight, waiting for Killian to head below deck. He spent another several minutes cleaning up after the class before she heard him give a satisfied sigh and head below.
So she steeled herself, hesitating for half a moment before the image of him pulling up the bottom of his linen shirt to wipe his face presented itself to her, and she decided.
She quietly made her way down to the Captain's Cabin, remembering its location from when Killian had given the introductory tour of the ship. When she heard movement inside, she gave a small smile, before stepping into the room.
He was standing with his back to her, still dressed in his captain's getup, looking at something resting on the shelves under the window, so she managed to get all the way into the room and managed to shut the door behind her.
It was only as she slid the lock into place, the deep thud of the wood reverberating around the room, that his spine snapped straight and he whirled around, an irritated look crossing his features.
But as soon as he registered that it was her standing before him, the irritation morphed into surprise and confusion.
"Did you need something Swan? Did your lad forget something?"
Emma bit her lip, enjoying when his eyes flicked downward before they darted back up to meet her own again.
"Swan?"
It was now or never.
"I was hoping that I might have a private word with the Captain…."
It took exactly eight seconds for him to understand what she was saying. But once he got there, the confusion melted off his face, a dark look taking its place. He somehow seemed to grow taller, taking up more space within the confines of the cabin.
"I see," he spoke lowly, and Emma shivered. This was the voice of the Captain. "Well then, if its the Captain you want, the Captain is who you shall get."
He paused, before an icy smile worked its way across his face.
"Then kneel before your Captain."
Another shiver worked its way up her spine as she slowly dropped to her knees.
"There's a good lass," he cooed. "Now let's see then. What is it that brings you to me, wench? Did you come down in the hopes of being ravished? Perhaps that I wouldn't even let you get all the way through the door, shoving you up against the wood and kissing you until you couldn't breathe, a thigh between your legs so that you could hump me like a bitch in heat?" Emma's thighs clenched. He began pacing around her, circling her like a predator ready to devour its prey.
"Or that I would bend you over the table and fuck you so hard that the entire bay would echo with your screams of ecstasy?" He stopped right behind her, and she could feel his eyes on her form like a physical touch.
"Or perhaps you'd hoped I'd map out every inch of your skin, laying you out like a goddess upon my bed, tracing every line of your form with my tongue while I worshiped your body, until I found the secret treasure that so many men are unable to find, that beautiful pearl that would just be pulsing and throbbing with arousal. Then using my hands to turn that throbbing into a wave of pleasure so deep that you drown in it." She wasn't sure when her eyes closed, but they jerked open when she felt his hot breath caressing her ear, "And then bring you back to the surface to make you drown again."
The moan was almost silent. But it was enough to draw dark laughter from him.
"I asked you a question lass," he purred in her ear.
"Yes," she breathed out, "God yes."
"Yes… what?"
She swallowed, "Yes… Captain…"
"Stand up."
She winced as she got to her feet, the wood floor not kind to her joints, but when he strode around her, the pain in her knees was easily forgotten in aovr of watching him slowly remove the leather jacket, tossing it to the side with a cavalier carelessness that had a throb of arousal coursing through her as she watched his hands tart to toy with the hem of his shirt.
"You like my hands don't you lass?" he chuckled, and her eyes flew back to his. "Is that how you've been satisfying yourself at night? Imagining my hands running across your skin? Pinching your nipples and rubbing your clit?"
"Oh yes Captain," she whispered, fighting the urge to touch herself. She had never been so turned on in her entire life, and they were both still clothed. He gave a hum of pleasure before he closed the distance, slamming into her, his hands gripping her face as he crushed his lips into hers.
It was perfect, the scratch of his beard better than she imagined and his hands the perfect mix of hard and soft. He nipped at her lips before he slipped his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss and making her moan.
They broke apart, panting, and Emma was thrown back to that first day, during their spar. But then his hands were roughly reaching for the bottom of her shirt, yanking the fabric up over her head, before his clever fingers quested or her bra catch, the feel of his chest hair as he pressed her to him a delightful taste of what she knew would come.
In short order, he had her bra sliding off her body, exposing her breasts to his sight. She thought that he would immediately dive in, but instead he stared at them hard for a long moment before he stepped back.
"Get on the bed," he barked, and she scrambled to obey. Once she was laid out, he came and stood over her, leering down at her. "Look at you. Nipples already flushed and aching and I haven't even laid a hand on you. Oh this is going to be so much fun."
Then he pulled his shirt up over his head, barking out, "Take those offending pants off. I need you bare."
She quickly unbuttoned and shimmied out if her pants and underwear, tossing them off to the side, all while keeping her eyes locked on the beautiful expanse of skin that he had just revealed to her.
He looked her over, still in his now extremely tight leather trousers, "Just look at you. Divine." She flushed. "Now, I want you to put your hands up above your head and keep them there. Can you do that?"
She swallowed hard, shivering at the husky tone his voice had taken on, but nodded, stretching her hands up above her head. Killian then paced over to her, standing above her, bringing a hand down to caress up her arm, sending a cascade of shivers across her skin.
"Imagine what it's going to feel like. When I start to knead your breasts with one hand while the other traces patterns across your belly, just like this," and he began trailing one fingertip across her taut skin, making her eyes roll up into her head as she clenched her thighs together against the fluttering of her muscles.
"Then I'd switch to your other breast while my hand travels lower, teasing you, your arms straining with the effort to keep still." One hand continued to caress her belly and up her sides while the other began to trace featherlight patterns across the inside of her thighs. She could feel her cunt clenching, aching to be filled.
"And then finally, my fingers would slid home inside you, filling you and stretching you. Can you feel it? How I'd scissor my fingers to get you nice and stretched before slowly thrusting them in and out of you, arching them ever so slightly so that every pass send s sparks up your cunt and across your skin?"
She couldn't control her hips as they sought the friction he was describing. She could almost feel it, the slow slide of his fingers within her as he brushed against her G-spot.
Then she felt a weight on the side of the bed and cracked her eyes open to see him sitting next to her, hands still tracing their patterns, while he leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"And then I'd tell you how beautiful you look, flushed and panting for me. I'd tell you how erotic it is to watch you get lost in the pleasure I was giving you. And then I would speed up my fingers, thrust and thrusting until you couldn't think with the pleasure pulsing through your veins, and then I'd add my tongue to the mix, licking at your clit until you were at the very edge of an orgasm. I'd hold you there, teetering until you were a sobbing mess, begging me to allow you release. And then I'd whisper….."
He paused, and she was right there, the spell he was weaving with his words and his tracing fingertips inescapable.
"Come for me Emma."
And she did, a shuddering release that rolled through her, making her whole body shake.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
It wasn't intense, but rather whetted her appetite and left her unsatisfied. And she knew what she had to do.
"Please Captain, fuck me please," she almost whimpered, her cunt still clenching in the hopes of finding something to fill it.
"With pleasure."
She felt him stand and opened her eyes to see him practically rip his pants off. Once he was bare, she licked her lips, every inch of him as delicious as she had imagined. She expected a witty comment, but it was then she noticed the almost crazed look in his eyes.
He clambered onto the bed, and she went to grab for his shoulders. BUt he caught her hands with a growl, slamming them back above her head.
"No, love, I said to leave them there."
He shifted her hands so he could press both wrists into the mattress at the same time, and without any further prompting, used his other to rub his rock hard member through her folds, making him grit his teeth.
And without warning, he slammed home. She screamed at the sensation, her whole body seizing up while above her, she could feel his whole body trembling.
"God your fucking cunt feels like heaven." He pulled back and slid in again. "So hot, so tight, like it was fucking made for me to fuck. Like your body was made for me to worship, your pleasure mine to …" his breath stuttered as he slid in again, this time with Emma tilting her hips to let him slide in that tiny extra little bit.
"Fucking hell," he breathed out.
She was able to feel the moment his control snapped, his whole body pulling taut as his hips rammed into hers again and again, driving her up the bed. His free hand came to roughly paw at her breast, the heat of his palm and the roughness of his callousess delightful against her skin.
It took no time at all for her body to return to the brink, and it seemed that he was close as well, his thrusts becoming rougher and more irregular.
Then he relased her breast in favor of dragging it down her belly and rubbing at her clit.
"Come for me Emma," he whispered.
And she did. Explosively, screaming out her pleasure into the room, her hips bucking wildly. As it began to pass, she felt him freeze up, body coiling tight as he groaned out his release.
Then his whole body went slack, pressing her into the mattress while they both tried to get a hold of her breathing. As she slowly came down from her orgasmic high, a thought occurred to her and she laughed slightly.
He drew back and she was able to appreciate just how gentle his eyes were, before he gave her a gentle smile.
"What is it, love?"
"I really have to thank Mary Margaret for talking me into this."