"For you, Cora?" Again, Hook felt what lay between his legs stir hopefully. "How could I say no?"
Killian wasn't unintelligent: far from it. He was exceptionally clever, and he knew it. He knew that lust was on Cora's mind. It had been before; and it would be again.
He had tasted her before. After the curse had broken, more than magic had been between them as he opened his mouth to the wet, delicious heat between her thighs.
It had been a quick, easy hour to celebrate the curse being broken. They had both been elated, and willing to oblige one another.
"You'd never say no to me?" She crooned in mock-affection, and Hook was brought back to the present. "…if you truly had any idea what I'm capable of, you'd never say anything so foolish." Her hand moved down his paralyzed form to delicately cup what lay between his thighs. "I would blame your words on your youth, but we both know that you're not young at all. Your years with the lost boys were years all the same."
Too softly for her intentions to be anything but agonizing, she squeezed between his legs, and Hook would have shuddered if not for his immobile state against the wall of his cabin. Her eyes were narrowed thoughtfully; dark lashes framing her eyes; painted lips slightly parted.
Drawing in a breath, Hook strained to turn his head down, to see what her hand looked like against his trousers.
"I'm aquiver with curiosity." He breathed out, a low growl in the back of his throat, already starting to salivate.
"Curiosity? Is that all?" She droned, and suddenly Hook's body was free. It had been unexpected, and he fell to the ground, to his knees. His surprisingly intact heart thudded in his chest, and he looked up at the woman in front of him with minor unease. He could still feel her magic in the air: it emanated even more strongly from her than the air that she breathed.
He had been with plenty of women in his time, but Cora was something else. Even Milah, as much as he had loved her, had been familiar as a woman. She had been more than anything he could have imagined, but a woman she had been: and women were what he knew.
Cora was something altogether different. Whether or not it was her age or her magic, he didn't know. Maybe it was a little bit of both.
"…perhaps not." Hook admitted, making a measured and wary move to get to his feet.
"No." A hand in his hair stilled him, and the coldness in her voice made his gut clench. "I want you on your knees."
"Am I so common that you would have me kneel before you like a peasant?" He breathed out, but remained on the ground, his hand helping to support him while his hook came to rest on the very edge of her boot.
"In the eyes of any other queen, Killian, you'd be even less than that." Cora gripped his hair more tightly, and he tensed. "…you're a pirate."
"I'm a captain." He didn't break their gaze: he knew that she was stronger, but that didn't mean that he was weak.
"Yes, dear. Captain Hook. You've sailed the seven seas. You've fought the crocodile. You've pillaged and stolen, lied and cheated." She abruptly turned her wrist, strengthened by her conduct as much as her magic, and he found himself flat on his back. "…but you lack accountability. You need to learn that every action has a consequence."
"…and, pray tell, what is this a consequence for, Your Majesty?" Hook breathed out, looking up at the woman who had spared both his heart and his life on multiple occasions.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something you've done that deserves retribution." Killian couldn't tell if Cora was moving slowly, or if he was simply so caught up in the moment that his mind wasn't moving as fast as it should have been.
Kneeling behind his head, she cupped his face in a small but strong hand, her touch cool against his heated, and unshaven cheek. With her free hand, she leaned over him to undo the intricate metal clasps that kept his coat closed. Under it, he wore nothing: Killian had no hesitation about being exposed, especially to beautiful women.
For his part, he could see her chest above as him rose and fell with every breath. It was painfully covered by her dress, and with all of his might he wished it gone.
As her fingers worked over the clasps, far too slowly for his liking, she continued to speak.
"What would you do, Killian, if I were one of the women you find in coastal taverns? Would you be so careful then, or would you have already spent yourself against a willing body?"
"I've survived long enough to know better than to compare someone like you to a common whore, Cora." Hook sighed, and their eyes briefly met. "What do you take me for? A fool?"
"Maybe not a fool." She pulled one side of the garment open, exposing half of his chest. "…but I will take you."
Hook couldn't hide the shiver that went down his spine as she opened his jacket completely, and his front was bared to her.
"Oh, and look at you now, Killian." Her fingers moved to one of his nipples, nails scraping over it, the nub surprisingly hard. "I have to wonder if the rest of you is quite so…elated."
No other woman had made color rise in his cheeks so quickly: no other woman had been able to rob him of his conviction in as little as a row of undone fastenings.
"Cora." Hook moved his hand over hers, and she made no move to stop him.
"Yes, Killian?" She let the fingers of her other hand brush over his lips.
"You're being painstakingly deliberate. Why?" He asked, looking into her eyes.
"I suppose you're right. After all…" She mused, turning in a fluid movement so that she was on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips as she took his face in both hands. "…I do normally prefer to do more pleasurable things when I have a man on his back." She whispered into his ear.
His face began to burn, though with what sentiment he was unsure.
"Cora." He breathed her name again, but this time it wasn't a question, and Cora knew it. The pressure between his legs was only increasing, and he was very much regretting the tightness of his trousers. There wasn't any room, and soon the tension would become painful.
"…as mighty as you think you are, you'd do well not to forget that it was a woman who brought you into this world…and it just might be woman who will bring you into the next." Moving down slightly, she leaned over him, her skirts spread over both of their legs, and finally pressed their lips together.
There was nothing soft or chaste about Cora's kisses. They always had purpose. Hook didn't have any time to question what she wanted, all that he could do was kiss her back. A groan already building in his throat, he let her tongue pry him open, his body feeling suddenly too hot for the open sea.
One of Cora's hands was in his hair, the other giving the one of the hard, sensitive nubs on his chest a rigid pinch. That was something that no woman had ever done before, and a sound escaped Hook's mouth into the kiss. Again, his face flooded with color, embarrassed at his body for emitting such a womanly reaction.
Slowly she sat up, pulling him with her.
"Come." She whispered, and they got to their feet. Still clothed, makeup and hair looking untouched, she stood before him as if expecting something from the captain.
He looked at her questioningly for a moment, and then found himself answered as he felt his jacket fall from his shoulders, Cora's magic pulling it to the floor.
"This won't be about your pleasure, Killian." She whispered, their gazes locked as she reached forward to undo his trousers.
"Then what will it be about?" He asked, letting out a thankful sigh as some of the pressure on his erection was relieved.
"A lesson." Putting a hand against his chest, between his pectorals, Cora began to walk: to lead Hook onto the deck.
"And what will I learn?" He asked, his backward steps confident as he continued to look at her. She really was exquisite: older women didn't get enough credit for their beauty.
"If I told you now, there would be no point in doing this." Her hand moved from his chest to his throat in an instant, and Hook found himself arching back over the side of the ship, the railing pressing into his lower back.
"And what exactly are you doing?" Hook asked, stunned by the sudden change in position. He could hear water moving against the ship, and felt sea spray against the back of his head. Cora wasn't going to push him off the ship: so what was she going to do? Resolving to be in a helpless position didn't sit well with Killian: being bent over his own ship at Cora's mercy was quite different from agreeing to wait among corpses for Snow White and her brood.
"You keep asking me to spoil the surprise. Where's your sense of adventure?" Cora asked, fingers still wrapped around his throat as she leaned over him and captured his mouth in a remarkably greedy kiss.
His hands moved to her waist, and for a few moments he gave into how demanding her lips were, how they made him heat up and melt. He'd been intending to reply when she pulled away, but found all of his words lost.
Feeling teeth on his lower lip, Killian willingly opened his mouth for the Queen of Hearts, his thoughts softening into a hot, red haze as her clever fingers found his nipple again. It hurt, but that didn't mean that it pained him.
The heaviness of his cock straining against his trousers was truly uncomfortable by that point, and he reached down to draw himself out, to display his eagerness for Cora to see.
"Is that supposed to impress me?" She smirked, their lips brushing as she spoke.
"What?" Hook asked, a little bewildered as he gently gripped his arousal. "You can't possibly expect me to keep myself tucked in."
Cora just laughed and pinched his nipple even harder, causing Killian to hiss in surprise and mild discomfort as she gave her fingers a small twist.
"You're going to bruise me." He half-laughed. It wasn't something that angered him. Cora was good with her hands, and he was comfortable with his body bearing the consequences of being with a beautiful woman.
"Something to remember me by when we part ways on the coast."
Their mouths were together again, and he was sitting on the edge of the railing, Cora dangerously straddling him. A sudden movement could easily send both of them over the edge. Hungry for more, Hook tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her up to deepen the kiss.
She responded by biting down on his lip again and giving the sore nub on his chest a harsh squeeze: this was her game, not his. Frustrated, Hook settled for parting his lips and letting her ravage him. This, he decided, was a taste that he never wanted to get out of his mouth.
He moved his hand from her hair to her chest, cursing the thick fabric of her dress.
"In time." She promised into the kiss, her own voice low with arousal, its already husky undertones magnified.
"Now." It was difficult to truly be afraid of Cora when he wanted her so badly.
"Patience." She chided, glancing down to where Hook's arousal was resting between his stomach and her skirts. "I must warn you now, Captain, if you make a mess on this dress I'm afraid just might make you walk the plank."
"If you want it to keep it clean, then maybe you should take it off." Hook countered, absently rubbing his fingers over the nipple that Cora had been abusing.
"You're so clever." Rolling her eyes, Cora slid down off of Hook's thighs and stood, her hands planted firmly on his hips to keep him down.
Hook knew that he was a splendid sight: his face flushed and his pants barely holding onto his hips. Cora's attentions were keeping him hard, and his erection was out of his unlaced trousers and against his stomach, resting on the trail of hair that led down past his bellybutton.
Seeming appreciative, Cora slowly looked him up and down. "Just look what I've done to you." She said softly, the only sign of her own arousal a slight deepening in her voice and a light rise in the color of her cheeks. "You carry too much of your strength in your sword, Killian. That could very well be the end of you."
"It could be worse." He pushed his hips up into her grip, his eagerness clear and erect between his legs.
"Turn around." She pulled back, her frown deepening when he made no move to do as he was told. "I said turn around."
"Why?" Hook asked, meeting her gaze with a brazen scowl. It was a dangerous thing to question an order from the Queen of Hearts, but how could he not? There was little that they could do for one another with his back turned.
Eyebrows furrowing and her teeth becoming visible, Cora moved her hand through the air, and Killian was abruptly forced onto his stomach, the hard railing jutting painfully against his hipbones.
"Did you never learn your manners, Captain Hook?" Cora whispered, leaning over him and reaching down to squeeze his backside in a bruising grip. "When a lady speaks, you listen."
"Apparently not." He grunted, uncomfortable and irritated with the way that her weight was pressing against his back, trapping him against the railing. He could see the water below him, and it was a familiar sight. The gentle rocking of the boat caused his erection to occasionally brush against the side of the ship, and he was glad that the wood had been smoothed with good care and old age. Of all the places he didn't want a splinter, that had to be number one.
Securing her fingers in the back of his trousers, Cora pulled down and they were around his ankles a moment later, leaving him exposed to the queen.
"You've been holding out on me, Killian." She whispered, her voice dropping one octave in tone and raising two in deadliness. "That lovely coat of yours covers up some of your greatest assets, wouldn't you agree?"
In all of his years, no woman had ever done this to him: no woman had ever bent him over to see him from behind. They'd whistled as he left a room, or grabbed on to gain leverage while he fucked them, but never this. If it had been anyone but Cora, Hook would have retaliated.
But it was Cora, and he knew better than to say no.
"What are you going to do to me?" He asked, not fearful yet, only curious. He had no reason to believe that she was going to do anything too unexpected.
"Patience." Cora gave him another squeeze, her nails digging into the soft, breakable skin where his buttocks became his thighs. "Wait and see."
Hook didn't want to wait: he wanted to hike up Cora's dress and rut against her until her hair was damp and her lipstick long gone, washed away with kisses and sweat. How it had come to this: Captain Hook bent over on his own ship, he had no idea. Letting out a frustrated groan, he raised up his hand and to grip the railing, not caring to take the effort to strain his neck and watch her. Feeling her was enough.
"No one's ever seen you like this, have they?" She whispered. "…no one with my intentions, anyway." Leaning down, she idly kissed the back of his neck a few times. Hook didn't have to ask to know that she tasted sweat. "…perhaps in battle, but I'm afraid that war is one of the last things on my mind right now."
"And what are your intentions, my dear Cora?" Hook's voice was almost a growl. His arousal had gotten to the point where it was more frustrating than pleasurable. "For such a sunny day as it is, you seem to be enjoying keeping me in the dark."
Had Hook thought to look over his shoulder, he would have seen her expression darken.
"Listen to me, Killian Jones. Let me make myself abundantly clear." She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. "This isn't about your pleasure. It's about mine. The only thing you are to gain from it is wisdom."
Captain Killian Jones wasn't used to being afraid. The anguished, terrified state he'd been in while being forced to watch Milah's death had made all else pale in comparison. He wasn't pale now: his face was flushed, and his brow was damp with sweat. In a rare moment, words wouldn't come to him: he had no response for Cora, no rebuttal or clever remark.
"Don't you have anything to say to me, Captain?" She asked, breath ghosting over the side of his face as she gave his backside another squeeze. It sent a surprising wave of pleasure to his aching length, and he bit down on his lower lip to keep back a moan.
"Carry on." He murmured after another second of silence, his gaze still focused on the water. "Carry…carry on."
"Good." She whispered her approval and let go of his hair, allowing him to lower both his head and his gaze. Pulling back slightly, Cora looked down and gripped both cheeks, spreading them slightly.
"What are you doing, Cora?" Hook's voice rose slightly in both pitch and seriousness, and he gripped the railing hard, body tense. "Why are you doing that?"
"There are some things that all men should experience, Killian. You are no exception."
"That's enough." His heart was beating too fast: something was wrong. He began to turn around, willing to stop what they were doing in favor of keeping his dignity.
"Don't." The simple word came out in a snarl, and Cora's hand landed hard on his backside. Hook was too shocked to continue to move, and for a moment he went limp. That was all that Cora needed: in the next moment, he was bound with magic, his feet rooted to the deck. Once he'd stopped trying to move, her voice returned to its normal aloofness. "Don't, Killian. Don't."
She raised a hand into the air, and a small bottle that Killian would have recognized from his cabin materialized in her fingers. Delicately spreading some of its contents onto two of her fingers, she moved them down his spine, leaving a small trail of oil leading down to the curve of his backside.
For his part, Hook could only shiver in unknown anticipation. What Cora was doing troubled him. Even though he didn't want let the thought register, he knew where her fingers were going. "Cora." He said more quietly. It wasn't an objection: they both knew that he wouldn't say no.
"Don't speak unless spoken to." She murmured back, fingers moving further and further south. Hook's body clenched involuntarily as they reached their destination. "Relax." She added softly, her other hand gently splayed between his shoulder blades as she pushed the digits forward.
It felt strange. He wasn't yet sure how he felt about it, but it was new, and something that he'd never wanted. He knew better than to speak, but he couldn't help but let out a small, low sound as her fingers ventured deeper and found something wonderful.
"Yes, Hook?" She said gently, giving him permission for a more articulate response.
"F…fuck." He growled, far less eloquent than usual. He hadn't known. He'd never known. Never asked, and never told. The light pressure between his legs, Cora's touch against what he'd never felt before, was driving him insane. He needed release, but it was clear that Cora wasn't going to provide it. At the same time, though his upper half wasn't bound by magic, it seemed that he couldn't bear to move his hand from the railing. It was gripping too tightly, and he needed to be grounded.
"You've done this to women, haven't you? The particularly…wild ones." She pushed her fingers in hard, and he shuddered and clenched, trying not to push back. "Answer me, Hook."
"Yes." He admitted, the word rushed and his breathing uneven.
"Then you're no stranger to what comes next."
"But…" Brow furrowed, he glanced over his shoulder, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "You don't have—"
"But I have magic." She cut him off, and their eyes met for a brief instant before he looked away again.
A large part of Hook wanted to protest and turn away, to jump ship and swim back to Fairytaleland. The part of him that wanted to survive, to avoid Cora's wrath, kept him silent. Besides that, it did feel good. His body was willing, even if the rest of him was uncertain.
Her fingers withdrew, and Hook tensed. Yes, Cora had magic, but what did that mean? His eyes were squeezed shut, and his muscles taught. It was a few moments before anything happened.
More suddenly than he'd expected, Hook felt something between his legs. It wasn't solid: it wasn't even really physical. It was magic, and he knew it, and he didn't want to let it in. "Cora—" He let out her name again.
"Shh…" She murmured, planting a gentle kiss to the back of his neck. He felt another push forward, and he was breached. It hurt. It more than hurt. It burned. Was this what the women had felt like?
He couldn't imagine that it was all that different: this was part of the anatomy that went unchanged between the sexes, equally sensitive and equally unmade for this. Cora didn't push her magic forward until his muscle relented and began to relax. For that, Killian was incredibly grateful.
Sometimes, he had wondered what it would be like to be a woman: to be fucked. This, he realized, was the closest that he was going to get. The pressure began to pull back, and Hook realized that his legs were free as he tried to move back with it, not wanting to lose the feeling.
"Relax." Cora increased pressure on the hand between Hook's shoulders, keeping him down and keeping him in place. "Just relax."
He realized that there had been little cause for worry as he was filled again. The stretch of his muscle hurt, but he was eager for Cora's magic to find what her fingers had sought out earlier. That was worth the pain. It didn't take long for Killian to get used to what it felt like to have something (someone?) inside of him: the push and pull of Cora's magic against a place that had, up until that point, been private.
More quickly than he'd expected, Hook got his wish: in fact, it almost came as a surprise. Suddenly overcome with pleasure, he cried out and curled against the railing, the bruises that were blossoming on his hips the very least of his concerns.
"Hell!" He cried out, letting out a rare whimper and scrambling to find a hold.
"You can touch yourself." Cora murmured, her voice gentle though her magic was not, the thrusts increasing in both pace as intensity as Hook's responses became less controlled.
Taking those words as both an order and as his liberation, Hook moved his hand down and furiously started to move it over his arousal, guttural sounds ripping themselves from his throat as he fought his way to a well-deserved release.
"Say it." Cora said simply, and Hook knew exactly what she meant.
"Y…your… your…" His voice was weak: his body was weak. He'd never felt like this before.
"Yes. Yes." Though Cora's hands had stayed out of her skirts, Killian didn't doubt that there was heat between her legs.
"Your Majesty!" Hook cried out, finally reaching an orgasm as he furiously moved his hand, release hitting the deck as he trembled and moaned, moving desperately back against what was inside of him as he strove to ride out his relief full force.
Cora's magic withdrew and evaporated, and Hook slumped down to his knees, breath coming out in shattered gasps. His trousers were still around his ankles, and his back and legs were sore and tight from being bent over.
Slight but strong hands drew him up, though his knees were still shaking. The walk back to his cabin was awkward to say the least.
Laying down her captain, the Queen of Hearts sat on the edge of the cot and reached behind herself, undoing the complicated fastenings that kept her dress on her frame.
"What now?" Hook asked, watching her with exhausted curiosity.
"All magic comes with a price, my dear." She whispered, her bodice falling down to reveal her bare chest. "But for you, Killian, I am willing to pay." Taking his hand, she guided it to her bosom and leaned down.
What came after that was gentle and well deserved. It was his hands on her breasts, and his mouth seeking out what lay under the soft brown curls between her legs. After that, Cora urged him to find sleep in the final hour of their journey. He was happy to indulge, and found himself slipping out of consciousness as she was lacing up her dress.
"Killian! Put yourself together!"
Startled awake, Killian sat up and looked to Cora, his trousers still around his ankles. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the excitement in his chest: they'd arrived.
Grin positively feral, Hook swung his legs over the edge of the cot and pulled up his trousers, ignoring any protests that his body gave. On his way out, he picked up his long abandoned jacket from the floor, carelessly buckling the clasps that Cora had so tenderly undone hours before.
Grabbing his spyglass, he ran from the cabin more quickly than he should have (his knees were still weak) and joined Cora at the prow. She was holding a blackened rose: the same flower that Regina had laid in her tomb years ago.
Killian's reminder of his mission was much less fleeting: the absence of his hand was something that he couldn't put away for safekeeping.
"There it is."
"Storybrooke."
