FOUND
"Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better."
William Shakespeare, The Twelfth Night
Wendy awoke to the distinct feeling of warmth and comfort. She had, at some point in the night, groggily staggered out of bed, stripped off her dress, and climbed back under the covers next to a pirate Captain who watched her unnoticed, feigning sleep. She grumbled, half-asleep as she was, all but incoherently as she joined him in his bed, clad only in her underclothes.
"'f he bloody well thinks…comfortable best, I suppose…don't rightly care 'f 's not proper…bed…mmmm."
With that, Wendy's head hit her pillow, a soft moan falling from her pursed lips. Hook barely contained the mirthful laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. Within a few ticks of the clock he could always hear echo in his mind, Hook noted his captive had fallen back into a deep sleep. He watched, entranced, as her chest rose and fell with even breath. The urge to take her was overwhelming, but reached near-fatal proportions when she wriggled her body back against his, her form fitting so deliciously well against his own. He suppressed a groan and rubbed his temples with his left hand and right forearm. He sighed and curled his right arm around Wendy's small form, drawing her even closer to his own body and silently cursing that damned Pan for stealing his right hand. He could never feel her beneath his right palm, could never brush her tears away with his fingers…he sighed again. Having her this close and not being able to take her was exquisite torture. He counted back from one hundred, willing himself to relax. Despite the tension in his nether regions, his tactics worked and Hook joined Wendy in slumber, his hold on her never wavering.
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Wendy stared at the arm draped around her in the morning light. She knew that the hook was not an actual part of the Captain's person, but she had never imagined seeing him without it. Further, she had never imagined seeing the severed limb draped around her person as she woke up next to the pirate to which it was attached. She stared at the limb, taking its aspects in as best she could without rousing Hook. Far from the vile wound she had expected, Wendy found his arm to be well-healed and cared for, despite the welts of calloused skin that peppered his forearm, shoulder, and…Wendy daren't turn to look at his chest, more for fear of her response to his likely state of undress than any fear of waking him. Would hardly be ladylike to turn and bury herself in the broad planes of his chest as she so desired. She stole a glance at Hook's desk to draw her out of her lustful thoughts; a leather and metallic contraption lay across it, his hook set on a crimson pillow on top of the desk. It had been polished during the night; she would wager Mr. Smee was behind that. No wonder Hook's body was so calloused…the leather looked new; with how long he had been wearing his hook, he had undoubtedly gone through many of these devices, and probably some much worse, she thought with a shudder. She turned her attention back to Hook's missing appendage. The arm was stumped midway through the forearm, cutting in half what Wendy imagined to be a quite ludicrous tattoo. It appeared to be the remnants of the Eton coat of arms, cut near-perfectly in half. Wendy imagined that, prior to the "incident" which robbed Hook of his right hand, it was quite the stirring representation of pride in one's alma mater. Suddenly, Hook's last words as he had plunged into the crocodile's waiting jaws flitted back into her ears: "Floreat Etona." Of course. She tried not to dwell on the image of the man laying draped around her falling into the mouth of a raging beast.
Wendy, assured that Hook, indeed, remained asleep, and trying to focus her thoughts on something more pleasant than the Captain's devourment, took to stroking his nubbed arm gently. She willed the haunting memories he surely had to resolve, while silently bidding her own to be at rest as well. The Captain's eyes shot open at her ministrations, his pupils lost in the blood-red irises of rage. The memory of waking to another tugging at his right arm drew him out of his slumber with a start. His gaze was wild and body rigid; he flipped Wendy onto her back and sat on top of her, his left hand easily pinning her arms against the bed above her head. Wendy's lips moved, but the adrenaline and blood coursing through his body deafened his ears to her words. His body pulsed, his cock swelling in his primal state at her proximity and precarious position. She groaned as he thrust against her, his pants and her thin skirts providing a very small barrier between them. A small barrier which became even smaller when the Captain pushed the skirts of her underclothing up around her waist and thrust with even more intent at her nude lower half. He kissed her with abandon, she returned with equal fervor. When his searching lips reached the nape of her neck and his teeth grazed the pulsing softness, she moaned his name in a sweet voice. It was that self-same sweetness which broke him from his primal stupor, bringing him crashingly down to the scene of which he was most certainly a part. He blinked Wendy into view; her lips were swollen and red, her chest heaving, her hair and skirts disheveled…everything he wished she would be beneath him. But not like this. No, no, he needed to be in control of all his faculties when he had her…at least the first time. He growled as he stood and stalked away from her, turning his back to the woman on his bed in the hopes that shielding his view of her would quell his lust. When she spoke, he realized the folly in that line of thought.
"James? Have I done something dreadfully wrong?"
She scolded herself for responding too fervently to his advances…wasn't a woman meant to simply lie back and be silent until her husband had taken his pleasure? Is that why Hook…James…is that why he had gotten up so suddenly? Had she disgusted him? Wendy's eyes threatened to fill with tears. He sighed and rested his left hand on the desk, his head hanging down, the black ringlets of hair cascading around his shoulders.
"No, my dear, of course not. I…I was taken away by your charms. I fear it is quite difficult to control myself with an intoxicating woman such as yourself beneath me."
He turned to face her, his jaw set.
"I have business to attend to on deck, but I shall return for you in a few hours to take you on a tour of the ship. I shall have the men bring a bath in for you, if that is to your liking."
She nodded fervently.
"Oh, yes, please!"
"Very well…I," he trailed off as his gaze fell on his hook. "I apologize if my…handicap has put any distaste for me in your mind. I assure you, I will not subject you to the sight of it if it can be avoided."
"James, I…."
"Please, Wendy. Do not patronize me. I couldn't bear it from you."
She was silenced by his words. Did he truly think her so monstrous that she would be disgusted by his disfigurement? She certainly wasn't. If anything, it made him more alluring. She frowned as the Captain attempted to put on the harness which allowed him to wear and use his hook. Obviously he was used to an assistant and his pride would not keep her from showing him he was not in the least pitied or an object of distaste. Wendy quietly padded over to him and silently helped the Captain to strap into the leather and metallic sling of sorts. He nodded in thanks as he screwed the metal hook into place. He pulled on a white flowing shirt and his red velvet captain's jacket with a flourish. Wendy smiled at the handsome man before her. As he pulled on his boots, Wendy took his hat from its station at the foot of the bed. She handed it to him with a smile when he stood before her. He debated leaving her without kissing those still-swollen lips, but lost all input in the matter when Wendy raised herself up slightly on tiptoe and kissed him deeply. He allowed himself to be lost in the sensation for a few moments before pulling back and looking down at her. He cleared his throat and muttered what sounded like "Good day, madam," before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Wendy suppressed a giggle before falling back onto the bed, all thoughts of escape, of Peter Pan, and of England floating out of her memory as the sound of Hook's flabbergasted grumble resounded in her mind.