Standard Disclaimer time: I do not own the TV show Once Upon a Time or it's characters. I make no money off of this story, or off the TV show and it's characters. This is done purely for fun and entertainment. And because I'm always having more ideas than I can possibly ever write out...X_X
-Michelle
The steps stretch out before me, hundreds upon hundreds of carved smooth stone that spiral upwards in a dizzying display. Such a sight is designed to lead one into thinking that the stairs go on for just about forever. They don't. The steps come to a landing just short of that.
The distance from the landing to the floor below it, is staggering in more ways than one. It had once taken me HOURS to climb up these steps. Now I do so in what feels like a matter of seconds, all but flying to the top of the spiraling stair case. My hook is sharp and at the ready, my arm already raised up with the intent to kill. Even before the faceless guard can ask the question he's asked before a thousand times at least, I am slashing open his throat, my good hand grabbing for the hilt of his sword. I am already turning, using my hook to catch at and block the blade that swings out at me. With the sound of the sword being dragged free of the dying guard's scabbard, I bring my stolen blade into play.
Pain then explodes in my side, my teeth baring in a feral snarl as I recognize that I was too slow. I'm almost always too slow when it comes to the second guard. I can feel the blood spilling, feel the pain hissing along the tear, but it's not life threatening. It never is. His sword has only grazed me, a mostly superficial wound that hurts more than it can ever hold hope to kill me. The same can't be said for the guard, his sword already swinging about a second time. He means to take my neck this time, but quickly I am dropping, rolling forward to come up fighting. It's my sword that cuts him open from hip to shoulder, my attack that splatters his dark red blood all over the landing's floor.
Even before the guard is done rattling out the last of his dying breath, I am leaving. Walking down a pathway that I have traversed so many times before. The door at the end of this shadowy corridor beckons me forward, the prize that is locked behind it making my blood quicken in anticipation. I all but run the last steps to it, wondering what it will be this time. The dream or the nightmare? Does it even matter, when the ending outcome is always the same?
But I still hope for the dream. Still yearn for that moment when the door is unlocked, when she stands up and looks at me, and doesn't try to run screaming from the room. The smile that I will give her then, is always one tinged with relief. Because I don't want to have to hurt her, and yet I can't always help it. Some dark, predatory part of me reacts to her fear, to the way that she tries to flee from me, relishing the feel of her struggling body squirming against mine as I drag her back into the room.
Even now there's that dark part of me that anticipates the struggle. That finds it arousing to force my kiss on her sweetly protesting lips. My hand actually shakes from the memory of it, my fingers making a clumsy go at unlocking the cell's door.
She's already lurching upright, that brilliant blue of her eyes frightened and wary, but holding a spark of defiance to them.
"The queen sent you, didn't she?" A stubborn lift of her chin, even as the woman shakes with her fear. "She wants you to kill me."
Just like I've done a thousand times before, I speak in a tone meant to be the utmost in soothing. "I'm not here to kill you, love." I am already lowering myself to one knee, my hook and my hand reaching for the thick, heavy stone shackles that weigh down her legs. "I'm here to rescue you."
It takes a concentrated effort to not sneak a peek at her as I work at opening the cuffs. The garment that she wears, bares one leg to me, a smooth expanse of pale skin that hasn't known the kiss of the sun in many a month's time. That leg is trembling in my grasp, the pointed tip of my hook working to pick open it's cuff's lock.
"Rescue me?!" I hear her loudly exclaim, and then she pauses. "Who are you?" she asks, her voice much softer this time.
I glance up from my work then, meet her eyes, as my hand reaches instinctively for the wrist she holds out to me. I hold her gaze for one long second, an almost nervous smile curving my lips, as my thumb sneaks a touch of her skin. I feel the pulse in her wrist, see the way her color brightens with the faintest sign of her blush.
"A friend." I say at last, and every part of me wants to laugh with my victory. I don't see any sign of her screaming, my words having helped to calm the worst of her trembling. The snapping free of the last of the manacles chases away the remaining fright in her eyes, the woman looking at me like I am her savior made real.
I know how this has actually gone down. Know the words that I have once spoken, the mistakes that I have once made. I don't do any of it now. I speak nothing of time, nothing of her father, and most of all, I speak nothing of HIM.
With that smile still curving my lips, I help the woman rise to her feet. She sways before me, and without even having to think about it, I find my arms around her, steadying her with my strength.
"Er...ah...thank you..." She whispers it uncertainly, glancing up at me with that lovely blue gaze.
"It's not a problem." And it's not. She's like heaven in my arms, a trembling angel made real. She's not someone I ever want to let go of, but I am still so conscious of scaring her, and of how the dream can quickly turn into the nightmare instead.
When she steps back, I let her. I watch as she does a nervous tuck of a curl of her brown hair behind one perfectly shaped ear. She's still got that faint dusting of color on her cheeks, and the woman can barely meet my eyes now.
"We uh...we should get going then." She says, trying to look past me to the open door. "Before more guards can come...before SHE can come."
"They won't be a problem. SHE won't be a problem."
"How can you be sure?" She asks me, and I hesitate.
"I just am."
But that's not good enough for her. The blue eyed beauty frowns at me, parts her lips to say something more, but my finger is there instead. I gently press it to that soft flesh, whispering to her to just trust me.
She stares at me with troubled eyes, the woman admitting that trust is not something that is easy for her to do. Especially in this kind of situation. She's been abused, her heart broken, the woman left in this tower to wither and die just like her hope has. I feel a genuine rage at the thought of just what she has been through, just what this woman has had to endure. That anger is not limited to just what others have done, but to myself as well, but I don't want to think about that right now.
Instead I give her my hand, while maintaining my smile. She stares down at it, and I all but hold my breath, waiting for her decision. Will she trust me, or will she ultimately run? The relief eases out of me when she reaches out with her shaking hand, her fingers quickly gripping hold around mine.
"You won't regret this." I tell her, gazing down into the dazzling brilliance of her eyes. She looks up at me and nods, a resolute expression clothing her face. She's being so strong, so brave. She's never more beautiful than when she trusts me, my smile widening in pleasure. I could stand there all day just staring at her, but a clearing of the woman's throat, reminds me of what I have to do.
With heat flaring on my skin, I turn and lead the woman out of the room that has been her prison cell for far too many months. The narrow passage awaits us, her body brushing against mine and it takes a new kind of strength of will not to turn and just take the kiss that I am burning for from her.
I hear a whimper behind me, turn and realize that I have gripped her fingers a little too hard as a direct result of my secret desire. Color stains my cheeks, that burning heat turning embarrassed. I mutter a quick sorry, watch as she does a quick shake of her head, the woman then dropping hold of my hand. I immediately regret the loss of her warmth, my fingers feeling lonely without her hand to grip them.
"You never told me your name." She says, as we resume walking down that narrow passageway.
"Aye, I never did." It's not the answer that she wants, and I can imagine the way she must be frowning now.
"But you're a friend?" She continues. "A friend of who? Just who sent you to find me?" A pause and then she starts to speak the one name I have never wanted to hear. "Did Rumplestiltskin..."
"I'm no friend of his!" I interrupt with a growl. I turn at her gasp, see the wide eyed look of surprise that she gives me, and it is the only thing holding me back from turning the dream into a complete nightmare. I take a calm, steadying breath, fight the words that want to come out. The words that want to damn Rumplestiltskin, and dash her ideas of claiming friendship with such a monster.
"Th...then who...?"
"Your father." I finally ground out. "Your father sent me..."
"My father? But..but how?!" She exclaims. A familiar frustration fills me, I know where this line of questioning will lead to only too well.
"He learned of your capture..."
"How?" she asks again. She reaches out with imploring fingers, touching my sleeve. I go still at that, gazing down at that small hand gripping my muscled arm.
Defeated, I sigh, the familiar words then pouring out of me. "Your father's life is in danger." I don't have to look at her face to see the effect such words will have on her. Not when I already know, having seen it countless times before, the confusion giving way to horror and then to something else. "He's being attacked by the very same monster that stole you away from your family in the first place."
"Rum...Rumplestiltskin?" She asks with a disbelieving giggle.
"He must be stopped." I close my eyes, and fight against the despair that darkens my very soul. "You spent more time with him than anyone else. There are rumors of a magical weapon...that has the power to kill him..."
"No, no, no. Let me talk to him." She says. "He's not a monster."
I know it won't matter, that my words won't change the outcome of what has already happened. And still I try, my eyes snapping open with a desperate gleam to them. With every word spoken, I in turn silently beg her to believe me, to buy into what I am saying.
"Your father's life hangs in the balance. I need to know what that weapon is and where to find it..."
She looks at me, all worry and confusion, innocently stammering that she knows of no such weapon.
"You don't?"
"No!" She exclaims, and I again close my eyes. "And even if I did, I wouldn't...I would never..."
"Then I am afraid I am NOT here to rescue you."
"Yo...you're not..." She states, that beautiful woman having already read the truth of it on my face. I hear her inhale to scream, feel her hands shove at me to knock me off balance, and for one second I actually consider letting her get away. But my arms move automatically, one catching around her waist. I haul her screaming form back against me, feel her thrash out long, supple legs in an attempt to be difficult. The sharp, pointed tip of my hook to her throat steals the worst of her fight, the woman sagging defeated in my embrace.
"I'm sorry." I whisper it against her hair, shift my hook to fit it's curve around her throat. With the firm, unyielding pressure of it, she tilts her head back at an awkward angle. Frightened, but defiant eyes stare up at me, and I am lost, drowning in the blue of them. I don't even have to think on what to do next, I just act, my mouth forcefully covering hers.
She makes a sound, a fierce whine of protest, both of her hands coming up to grab at my arm. I allow her that much, feel the dig of her fingers into the leather sleeve of my coat. She's trying to hurt me, but the beauty might as well be scratching over iron for all the damage that her nails do against my leather clad arm. She lets out another cry, an infuriated sounding hiss that is accompanied by more of her body's futile struggling.
She tries to twist out from beneath my kiss. The back of her body rubs across my front, the sensation of it setting my nerve endings on fire with a surging spike of arousal. She FEELS it, and actively tries to leap forward, but I haul her back. I do more than just pull her against me, I thrust my hips forward, let my erection press into the soft pleasing flesh of her. It's then that she gasps into my mouth, frightened by my blatant desire, by the pleasured groan that is let loose deep in my throat. This time when she makes a sound, it is a soft, frightened whimper, and I devour THAT too.
She whimpers again and tries to hold still, her head still held at that awkward angle for my kiss. I'm all force and determined heat, my mouth harsh with it's demand. I steal closer with every sound that she makes, my mouth relentless, almost brutal, my tongue plundering inside. Her knees buckle in response, her fingernails becoming more desperate. A high pitch whine accompanies those clawing movements, the words she tries to beg for mercy with, muffled under the dark greedy pressure of my lips.
But it's not enough. It's NEVER enough. Not when I am burning, lust boiling my blood, and clouding all sane thought. Around me, the dream has gone to hell, the nightmare making itself known in the frightened blue of her eyes. Then she's screaming, fighting more wildly, more desperately as I drag her back into the cell. By the time I push her down onto the cot, she is a trembling mess, tears streaking across her face. Her lower lip is trembling as she glares up at me, all tearful and afraid.
"Don't do this." She begs in a broken tone of voice. I give her a sad sort of smile, cup her cheek with my good hand.
"If only you had trusted me..." But I wonder if her trust would have been enough to keep the nightmare at bay. Maybe nothing could. Maybe I was forever doomed to this torture, to this madness, haunted by a memory of fear stricken eyes and endlessly tempted by the remembered feel of her soft, pale flesh.
To Be Continued...
Huh..I had wanted this chapter to be longer, but it just felt like I had reached the end..I know it's short, but I already have an opening line for two in my head. But it could also be I am feeling so rusty and feel like all my attempts at sexual things sucks. Please note the first 13 KB was written back in MARCH. Yes March 2016. Interesting story. Last night I was looking through my Once folder, and I have a lot of little files with notes and half formed ideas that I have never written out in story form. Well imagine my shock when I came across a note file, and a 13 KB chapter work in progress! Thank God for that note file, as it reminded me what I was trying to do with this first chapter, AND told me what story I had been aiming to tell...I'm not sure why I left the chapter half unfinished back then...it got written all the way up to the part where her knees buckled, and then stopped mid sentence. But I had completely forgotten about this idea and it's existence...
I may try to work on two tonight...I may not. I just feel like I have lost my ability to write anything sexual, sensual, and or smutty. *Cries* Right now I am in a kinda weird limbo, where I am moving from idea to idea, trying to get my groove back. I have a lot of ideas, it's just translating them into written word that has been giving me trouble this month. *Sad frustrated fact*
I guess I should put some warnings here...this is dark Hook, and will probably go non con. I mean non con beyond this dream slash nightmare slash distorted memory he is having in chapter one. And there will probably be character death, thought not of Hook or of Belle. But yeah some warnings so you can make up your mind if you want to continue with this. But I hope you still do!
I did first person POV...I hope it won't prove too draining on me to maintain a dark fic like this. Planning to do both Hook and Belle first person POV to narrate the story as it happens. Better summary will hopefully come to me...probably need a better title too, but for now I'll name this what my file was named. "Not here for the books"
-Michelle