I'm so sorry for the wait! After the last chapter, taking so long to post this was kind of cruel. I got a little sidetracked by life, but I assure you, the story has a few more twists and turns before it's over.
(I'd like to have it done by the time Once returns in September!)
Thank you for sticking with me!
XXIV.
They remained in port for two weeks, a situation that Hook outwardly maintained was for provisions and repairs to the ship. By the first night, he had heard the truth about her young brother, and with it had felt a spark of hope. Their reason for returning had in fact been nothing more than a rumor. She needn't stay to rule in Leo's place. She could visit with her family and, if she wished, return to him.
And so he had quietly stayed, hoping, only to realize with startling clarity that she wasn't coming. He wondered if perhaps she'd never loved him at all. Anger swept over him suddenly, as if trying to keep his sorrow at bay. Damn her. He was Captain Bloody Hook, not some naive boy, and she had been a great fuck, but mooning over her would do no good. She had clearly made her choice. It was time for him to act like the man he was.
He grabbed a small purse of coins and for the first time in months headed to the nearest brothel. He was done waiting for her.
One month. It had been over a month, and he still felt as raw as he'd been when he'd lost Milah, only this time, there was nobody to blame for the situation but himself. He couldn't hate Emma for leaving, and he hadn't followed her. He'd gone right back to his life like she'd been just another woman, only she hadn't been. She'd been his second chance, and he'd missed it.
He tipped his head back, taking another swig from his rum bottle as he sat in the corner of the tavern. His men were carousing around him as he tried to put on a mask and act untroubled by the princess's absence. After several hours of forcing a smile as he gambled and flirted, he eventually stumbled back to the Jolly Roger and stripped off his leathers, burying his nose in a chemise she'd left behind and inhaling her scent as he wallowed in his misery.
He'd been with plenty of women since she'd left, hoping to fuck away the raw pain of losing her, but the wound on his heart refused to heal. Keeping up appearances had become exhausting, and though he drowned his sorrows in rum or ale and buried his cock in countless whores and barmaids, he knew his most comforting hours were found in his cabin, where her memory was strongest and where he felt closest to her. He had taken none of his conquests to his bed, unwilling to profane it with the presence of any woman but her.
Pulling her tiara from a drawer in his desk and taking the chemise with him, he collapsed on the bed, closing his eyes and remembering every detail of his beautiful princess. He remembered the bright cascade of her sunlit hair and her laughing green eyes. When his thoughts turned to the rosy blush that colored her skin when she came undone under him, her image sparked the too-familiar desire for her that had gone frustratingly unsated these last months.
He began to stroke his cock as he pictured her riding him, letting his memories take over as he remembered how good she'd felt that first time, how wet she'd been for him, how she'd cried out his name as he made her come. Thinking back, he could almost feel her remarkable mouth, her perfect cunt, her hot, tight ass wrapped around him. She'd truly been everything he could have wanted.
Perhaps she missed him as well. He had been her first, and he knew most girls had a special place in their heart for their first lover. Would she touch herself thinking of him? Did she ever dream of running back to him, sailing away and never looking back? Might she have stayed forever, if things had been different?
He hated himself for feeling so pathetic; she was lost to him, and though he tried to accept it, he couldn't let her go. Not yet.
Gods, but he still loved her.
His Emma.
He came with her name whispered on his lips and an ache deep in his chest.
"Come around again!" His voice barked over the chaos as the canons of the Jolly Roger assaulted a ship bearing the seal of Prince Neal's kingdom. As the grappling lines were thrown and his men began to board the ship, he grabbed a rope from the rigging and swung onto the deck with a flourish, his sword finding it's first target easily as he waded into the crush of bodies.
He knew what the men had been whispering amongst themselves. The captain had become reckless. Mad. Obsessed. He couldn't disagree with their assessment. The thrill of battle had become another distraction, albeit a profitable one. They had spent the last weeks hunting down any ships that bore the royal arms of his homeland, Prince Neal's kingdom, or his former employers. Though he had quietly avoided harassing ships bearing the five-petaled flower of Emma's family, secretly not wanting to make her life any more difficult, his bloody rampage had been the stuff of legend.
Willing to risk it all, he had been especially merciless, boarding all who refused to yield quickly with a brutal glee that shocked even the more seasoned crew members. Let them say he was a monster, he thought. Let them hunt him. With so little to live for, he no longer feared death.
It was less than a week later when he overheard the men speaking in hushed whispers, quietly discussing something around the table where they sat drinking. The current port of call was a seedy little place, just the sort to attract people looking to hide. Their success had certainly been lucrative but had also attracted a fair bit of attention, and they needed to lay low.
Tipping an ear in his men's direction he overheard Mullins tell Billy "Yeah, but you've seen the way the captain's been. I don't think we should tell him."
"Tell me what?" He interjected, clapping a hand on Billy's shoulder.
"Umm, just some gossip, sir."
"And what exactly is this gossip?" He asked, glowering at Mullins, who had the good sense to look remorseful.
"Well, captain, rumor has it that the Sylvan Princess was married a week ago."
Married. Emma was married, already, mere months after returning home. How could that be? He knew she'd be wed eventually, but never expected it so soon. "Ah. Well, good for her. If someone wants her now that I'm through with her, who am I to judge?"
He knew his smile was probably closer to a grimace, but he didn't want to make his agony obvious. After all, what kind of respect could he command if his men saw the full effect of the devastation the news had wrought? "Now, enough about her. We're here to celebrate our most recent success." He abruptly changed the subject and raised a glass, forcing another smile on his face. "The the most dastardly group of pirates ever to set sail on the open sea!" A raucous cheer rose from the tavern's patrons, and he let the burn of his rum soothe his ragged soul.
Hours later, he was drunk and miserable, and nearly missed the beckoning of his new first mate. "Captain," the little man began, "the boys and I chipped in and got you something."
At another gesture, a blonde and a brunette approached and took hold of him, dragging him towards the rooms where they conducted their trade.
"Oh Mr. Smee, how did you know?"
He let the girls lead him upstairs, steeling himself for what was to come. He was being ridiculous. The princess was married; she was never coming back, and it was past time he got back to properly satisfying himself with whores and tavern wenches. She was probably fucking her royal husband right now, moaning under him as he enjoyed her tight cunny.
Would she enjoy it too? Would she wish it was him instead?
Pushed down on the bed, Hook forcefully shook away his musings and watched as the women slowly undressed each other, revealing more and more smooth skin as each garment hit the floor. The blonde eagerly latched onto one of the brunette's dark nipples, sucking and teasing as the other moaned. Enjoying the erotic show, he began to strip off his own clothes.
This was something he hadn't done in a while, knowing that Emma would never allow another woman in their bed, and as the girls' hands began to roam his body, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the physical sensations that came with having two women at once. There were lips on his neck, and another set kissing up his thigh. Hands swept across his chest and abdomen. He reached out, his hand finding the hip of the nearest girl and gripping it tight as the other's mouth finally wrapped around his cock. The wet warmth sent a shiver through him, and his hips pumped as she sucked and worked her hand over his length. He pushed her head down, trying to get her to take more of him when she gagged and pushed back. "Gods," she gasped. "Stop. I can't take that much."
And in that moment, against all his efforts to forget her, he thought of Emma. Of her mouth, of that incredible thing she did with her throat when she took him deep that made him nearly lose his mind with pleasure, of her sparkling eyes looking up at him as she sucked him dry. He didn't want the brunette between his legs, didn't want her friend who was currently rubbing her breasts over his chest. He wanted his princess.
And she belonged to another.
Growling in frustration, he pushed the blonde down to join her dark-haired counterpart, letting them lavish his cock with attention as he forced away the unwelcome thoughts. Emma was gone, but he had two very willing women right in front of him, and he was going to fuck the both of them until he forgot his own name, let alone hers.
The sight of so much naked skin was a feast for the eyes, and they were clearly used to putting on quite the arousing show. Whether or not his heart was in it (and it most certainly was not) his body responded without hesitation, his cock aching for their touch.
Over the next hours, he indulged his every wicked desire without restraint. He bent them over, brutally fucking their greedy cunts in turn, watching them lap up the other's arousal while he recovered before burying himself to the hilt in their asses.
Finally spent and thoroughly exhausted, he bid the whores leave with little courtesy, wanting to be alone. Physically satisfied beyond any further arousal, he felt the annoying scratch of loneliness claw up his back. With his lust slaked, his need for Emma beyond the mere physical became all the more clear. He had just enjoyed a night that would make most men green with envy, and all he could think was that it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, unless he was with her.
The pain searing through his hand was a welcome sensation, though the resulting punch to his gut less so. Gritting his teeth, Hook grabbed his young opponent by the shirt and pulled him close as the bar erupted in shouts of encouragement.
"Say it again, Peter, you little demon," he growled. "I dare you." He glared at the other man, who looked to be a mere lad of 18, though Hook knew he was quite a bit older.
"You're a one handed pirate with a drinking problem." Peter sneered as he nodded at the fresh swan tattoo, half exposed by the open collar of Hook's shirt. "And whoever she was, she must have been a filthy whore, to lay with a piece of trash like you."
He heard the hiss of shock ripple through his men as he smiled menacingly. They were both drunk, an argument over a card game escalating into rude, pointed barbs and, now, physical blows as well, but while he could allow an insult to his own honor to go unchallenged, disparaging remarks about Emma could be met in only one way.
It didn't matter that it had been over two months since they'd parted. Bruised knuckles were a small price to pay for defending her good name, and the little prick was asking for it.
The next punch knocked Peter out cold.
He wasn't sure exactly what had drawn him back to the familiar little inn, but he was glad they'd come. There was something comfortable about mourning the loss of Emma in the same place he'd mourned Liam. Maybe Red would take pity on him again, he thought with a sardonic twist of his lips. Bedding his brother's sweetheart wouldn't make him feel any better, but he wasn't sure he could feel a whole lot worse either.
"I'm about to finish my shift, captain. Another ale before I go?"
Killian turned to see the face of a pretty young barmaid, curly hair the color of chocolate falling over her shoulders. She'll do for tonight, he thought, drawing her down into his lap. "Oh, I think you have something much sweeter than ale to offer, lass."
He couldn't remember her name, but it didn't seem to matter much. Arching into his hand as he palmed her breast, she toyed with the pendants around his neck, clearly charmed by his handsome features. His gruff, detached attitude certainly wasn't about to win her over, he thought bitterly.
He didn't want her, not truly, and it was getting harder to ignore the fact that he didn't enjoy his conquests like he had in the past. All the same, he would take her upstairs and bend her over and be done with it, fucking her hard enough to release some tension before he started taking out his anger on the crew. Rising to lead the brunette upstairs, he heard an annoyed voice behind him.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"To satisfy my needs, so unless you're offering to take care of me," he leered obnoxiously at Red, causing her to wrinkle her nose in irritated disgust, "I suggest you stay out of my way."
She snorted, obviously able to see though the charade. "You're an idiot, Killian Jones. I could imagine a million ways you'd deal with the news about Emma, but running away and fucking yourself into oblivion isn't one if them."
"Leave me alone. If she wants to marry some royal git, what's it to me?"
Something on Red's face gave him pause, a subtle combination of fear and realization. "Oh gods, you didn't hear, did you? Killian, you need to sit down now."
Her tone was enough to get his full attention, if only for a few minutes. He turned to the barmaid and nodded towards his room, patting her ass in dismissal. "Go on ahead, and get yourself comfortable, lass. I won't be far behind, and I expect you to be wet and ready for me." He followed Red back to a table and sat down heavily as the tavern girl scampered upstairs. "This had better be good. What's so important?"
"It's about Emma. Obviously, you know she's married."
He felt his heart skip a beat and knew he'd blanched slightly, but nodded stoicly. "Aye, I know. She deserves to be happy."
Red looked at him fiercely, "And that's it, then? Nothing more to say? Didn't you even think to find out who it was? Gods, Killian!"
He glared angrily. He didn't want to know who she'd chosen. It hadn't been him, and that was all the knowledge he needed. "It doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?" She snapped. "Would it matter if I told you that she's married to King John?"
He froze as his mind reeled. "W-What?" It couldn't be. Why? Was she doing it to spite him? No, that was impossible, he realized. He'd never told her which king had betrayed his trust and killed Liam. It wasn't out of anger, then, but even without that motivation, he could barely believe it. She was light and joy and beauty, while John was as corrupt as they came. Why would she give herself to such a man?
"You have to go to her, Killian. It's obviously a political marriage- Gods only know what he threatened her with to secure such a union. John's wife died years ago, and he's without an heir. Her family has been in a tenuous truce with Leinster for some time now, but they have no navy to speak of and...well, you know all too well what John's navy is like. The gossip is that he essentially blockaded the port and she agreed to wed him in exchange for peace."
Suddenly it all made sense. The rumor of her young brother's illness would have spread to Leinster, as would talk of Emma's absence and activities once she returned. With her kingdom under threat, Emma would be precisely the type to offer herself in exchange for her people's lives and John certainly would have heard the rumors regarding Emma's time as sea. In addition to a lovely royal bride, he could quietly antagonize his foe, and what better way to enrage and humiliate his former officer, the great "Captain Hook," than to take his woman?
That disgusting, vicious bastard had to pay.
"He took my brother from me, and now he thinks to take her too?"
The girl in his bed was forgotten. Everything was forgotten except for his revenge and his love, and he would finally have a chance to get them both.
"Ed!" he yelled to the quartermaster lounging in a corner, "Gather up the boys and prepare to leave immediately! It seems I have a princess to rescue after all!"
"Well it's about damn time," Ed admonished, clapping him on the shoulder as he sprung into action. "I was wondering when you'd come to your senses, mate. You've been even more of an insufferable ass of late than you ever were, and that's saying something." With a wry grin, Ed disappeared into the night to round up the crew and within an hour the Jolly Roger had set sail. They made haste for Leinster, gliding over the water towards the green shores of his homeland. He would have his revenge, kill John and burn the country to the ground if need be, but she would be his again.