I don't own OUAT
Head held high. Not a hair out of place. Her parasol perched delicately over her head. Some days he's not completely sure how he resists. Then he remembers when she tears him apart. And then, with a simple glance back in her direction, he forgets again. Her Majesty is every bit the queen she made herself into. But at the same time, she is as certain an executioner as she is a noble. His lethal lady. And she is, most assuredly, his. They own each other in the night, and he loans her out to Regina for the days. While around her daughter, she doesn't let a bit of it slip. Cora pretends he is her tool. Maybe he is. Maybe he should mind. He doesn't.
His days are almost better than their nights to him. Without her permission to take out his enemy, he has nothing else to do but watch her. But he will never complain at the research time. Her composure is astounding, but her movements are simply inhuman. He infuriates her purely for the feel of her curved nails digging into his chest to touch his heart. And she knows it. It may well be the only reason he stays alive. Killing him would bring him too much pleasure. But isolating him? That would be torture for the both of them. Cora doesn't get rid of those she needs. She simply doesn't let them know her need. But he can find it in her eyes every night.
He lightly fingered her soft hand as they walked, pretending his fingers had simply brushed against hers. She would know that it was no accident, but her daughter wouldn't. He spied Regina out of the corner of his eyes. She held the royal air of her mother, and he had no doubt that she could kill him very easily. But she was not as elegant as her mother, nor could she kill as cleanly. He'd seen the younger woman kill before. Her eyes would drop down briefly, allowing herself to have a moment of guilt after the kill. Cora was as cool as though she had killed all her life. There was no hesitation, no guilt. It no doubt came from the deafening silence in her breast. It was beautiful, her lack of fear, lack of emotion. It made it all the grander when she responded to him at night.
"Mother, I'm going home. Are you coming?" Regina's voice was tentative, as it always was around her mother. She would be so easily taken advantage of with her need for approval. He could have her on her knees easily if he so wished it. But he had a far better taste for... aged wines. And his queen was the finest wine he'd tasted.
"I have more business to attend to, darling." Regina nodded meekly and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Cora turned on him, catching his hand and yanking it up. "Just what were you doing there?" He shrugged.
"Simply walking, your highness." He fought to keep a smirk from crossing his features. Her own face stayed just as cool as it had previously. Her fingers ran across his knuckles, and she was silent for a moment, thoughtful, perhaps. It was so hard to tell her response to anything with the mask she kept on so often. Strangely, he didn't mind. It was one of the most beautiful things about her.
"Is that so?" Her voice was empty of all emotion, yet filled with something. Power, perhaps, both diplomatic and physical. She could either kill a man or have him executed simply based on her mood and intention. It should terrify him, but it just made him in awe of her. Energy poured off of her constantly. The potential was always there, and he knew it more than most. When she let it loose, it did not tear through her body, making her wild, as it did to most. She controlled it, spinning the raw energy into pure power. When the energy was released, men died. And not a single hair fell out of place, or the tiniest drop of sweat formed on her brow. It was easy for her, perhaps as easy as breathing. And he could not resist that strength.
"It is." Her eyes narrowed briefly, and before he knew it, her fingers were curved around his heart. A single finger stroked his heart inside his chest, her nail lightly running across its fragile surface. He panted, both from the pain shooting through his chest and from the intensity of her personality. He broke out into a sweat. "Is there something you require from me, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, actually." Hook looked into her eyes and saw a strange light in them, one no one but for himself saw. It would seem lust is not a feeling controlled by the heart. He knew instantly what she wanted, wrapping his hook around her thigh, pulling her to him. Her fist tightened briefly on his heart, and he cried out in pain. "Music to my ears."
Her hand still in his chest, his hook around her leg, they were enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke, the light of day being traded for the darkness of his room inside his ship. She tore her hand out of his chest and pushed him back against his bed. Her power seemed to be leaking out slowly as she was consumed with lust. But she would not be submissive. He wouldn't like her that way. Her power made her beautiful and alluring. It made her into the Queen of Hearts.