Chapter 12: The Beast in Me
The beast in me
Is caged by frail and fragile bars
Restless by day
And by night rants and rages at the stars
God help the beast in me
The beast in me
Has had to learn to live with pain
And how to shelter from the rain
And in the twinkling of an eye
Might have to be restrained
God help the beast in me*
The next morning, he slipped out of bed quietly, before dawn. He dressed quickly, trying not to wake her, but just as he was leaving, she stirred. Sitting down on the bed, he ran his hands lightly over her breasts and belly, hushing her and telling her to go back to sleep. He could still smell their sex on her and he leaned over to regard the dark marks he had left all over her neck and breasts. He lifted the sheet up and examined the bruises on her delicate thighs. He carefully replaced the sheet around her, satisfied. He wanted her, and anyone else, to know that she belonged to him.
Just before he left, he leaned into her ear and whispered "Are you ready to play another game, darling?"
Sleepily, she reached for him, pulling him toward her by the collar, "Are you sure you can handle it?' she asked, grinning into his mouth.
"Maybe you're the one who can't 'handle it'." he said in a suggestive tone, pinching her nipple roughly. Then he slithered away before she could respond.
She didn't see him for the rest of the day. She slept late that morning, tired from their passionate lovemaking and exhausted emotionally by their painfully honest conversation. Inspecting the marks all over her body and wincing slightly when she touched some of them, she had understood he had been angry last night, even though he tried to hide it. He was accustomed to being the master and controlling his own destiny. She could feel the terrible fear and frustration that drove the violent passion of his lovemaking last night and she ached for his pain.
After dressing, she spent most of the day on the deck, pretending to read a book but mostly thinking about how much it would hurt her to lose him, questioning the inevitability of her own decision. Could she really imagine saying good-bye to him forever? Never looking into his beautiful ocean blue eyes again? Never feel his hot kisses or his soft caresses? The thought of never feeling him inside her again or hear his voice cry out her name with passion made her heart ache and tied her stomach up in knots. She felt as empty and bereft as a person famished by hunger and thirst. The burden of responsibility seemed too unbearable suddenly and she wondered if she should simply yield to him and let him make the decisions for both of them, as he so evidently wished to do.
Later in the afternoon, Smee interrupted her tortured thoughts by telling her the Captain wanted to see her in his quarters, immediately. She suddenly realized she hadn't seen him all day, and wondered if he had been deliberately avoiding her.
She descended the stairs with a light step, entering the cabin with a smile on her face in anticipation of falling into his arms again.
But when she entered, he was bent over some maps and account books on the desk, and ignored her completely, scowling.
She walked over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Killian, I…" she began.
He stood and whirled on her, his face dark. Seizing her by the shoulders in a grip so hard and rough she knew he would leave finger-shaped bruises, he turned her around, bent her over the desk, and pushed her down firmly against the surface. Raising her hands to grip the end of the desk to steady herself, she felt his hook pressing hard into the small of her back.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, struggling against him.
He was silent, holding her there for a moment. Then, with his right hand, he raised her skirts up over her back as she lay bent over the desk. He kicked her legs apart, then, moving his hook, he ripped through her scanty undergarment in one motion. She lay entirely exposed and vulnerable, panting with fear and something else—excitement. Captain Hook was back.
His taunting words from the morning came back to her, rushing over her… She had been too sleepy to entirely comprehend he had literally intended to play games with her again. She dimly realized he was doing this to distance himself from her after their all too fraught and emotional conversation of the previous day. He was going to prove who was the Captain of this ship. Thinking quickly, she resolved that whatever happened, she would not beg or scream, but would tough it out to play and win another day. She was not going to give him that satisfaction. Trying to balance herself for whatever was coming, she began to push up on her elbows.
"Don't move," he said in a threatening hiss. Instead of attacking her, however, he sat back down and continued reading his maps and reviewing the account books, apparently totally disinterested and preoccupied. Emma lay spread out like an offering before him, and as the time ticked by, she felt more and more humiliated. Her thighs were wet with moisture and she was engorged with the want of him, with the thought of his huge cock taking her from behind while she lay helpless over the desk. The hard surface was digging into her hipbones and causing her to grimace, but every time she rose up to get some relief, she felt his hook in the small of her back, pushing her down without a word. There were no words, no threats or warnings, no filthy endearments or promises. Just silence and the rustle of papers.
At long last, after what seemed an eternity, she heard him stir, listening as he slowly unbuckled his belt and unlaced his breeches. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she bit her lip, fearful of what was coming next. He leaned over her, pressing himself against her and enveloping her in his familiar, arousing smell. For a moment Emma relaxed against him as he pulled her toward him, her hands steadying herself on the edge of the desk. Reaching around her, he ripped her shirt open with his hook and began kneading and squeezing her breasts and nipples, already sore from him last night, so roughly she couldn't help but cry out a little. Abruptly, he ceased and pushed her down again, both of them breathing hard. He spread her legs further as he lined himself up to enter her. Panting with mingled fear and excitement, she tried to relax in anticipation of stretching around him as he entered her, knowing he would want it fast and hard.
But she came close to crying out when he slammed every inch of his massive cock into her with brutal force and without preamble. As he drove his powerful cock in and out of her with relentless strokes, she shut her eyes, gritted her teeth, and refused even to whimper as he selfishly appeared to take his own pleasure, without thought of her, like a common whore. It took only a few more hard thrusts before he came with a shuddering and nearly despairing groan.
Panting, he pulled out of her, re-laced his pants, and then dismissed her with a careless wave of his hand as she stood up, smoothing down her skirts. "You can go now," he said in a disinterested voice, refusing to meet her eyes and returning to his account books.
Emma said nothing, furious and humiliated, and aching in her groin because he had deliberately left her wanting and desperate for release. She fought to maintain her composure as she tidied her hair and picked up a shawl to cover her torn bodice. Certainly he had played this particular game to teach her a lesson about who had the power and, admittedly, there was a part of her that enjoyed surrendering control to him. She liked knowing she drove him insane with the desire to possess her completely by any means necessary. She knew he wanted her to feel him physically control her as his possession, to mark her like an animal.
But teaching her a lesson wasn't his main objective. He had needed to demonstrate his mastery of her to himself. Feeling powerless to change her mind or resist the myriad outside forces that would inevitably tear them apart, Killian Jones had let Captain Hook do the necessary dirty work to reassert his sense of command.
Emma had no problem acknowledging the terrifying reality that Killian had power over her, just as she knew she would suffer for it when they parted. And Killian knew this in his heart, but unlike Emma, he refused to accept it, fighting against fate, fighting against her.
But that didn't stop her from planning a little retribution. He wasn't the only one with power here. A little game of Captain Hook- ravishing-his-whore was one thing. But leaving her unsatisfied was just mean. A slow smile spread over her facealong with a glance of pure compassion, as she regarded him on her way out of the cabin.
*Music & Lyrics by Johnny Cash
