CHAPTER XI

"The profit of these dangerous dreams"

(Poem in Three Parts, John Ashbury)

Look,

Touch,

Feel.

Repeat.

After a while, Hook broke their embrace, but remained close. He seemed less frightening, more human, now that the cloud had passed. Reality seemed more pleasant than it had when she had woken up, Wendy realized.

She blinked softly as Hook kissed her jaw, and the corner of her mouth. Lingered for a little longer than he should have. Then, adding nothing, he delicately took a step away from her before heading towards the stairs at the end of the hallway. Perplexed, Wendy could not help but follow him and raise a hand to his arm, instinctively stopping him from leaving her – so soon.

Hook turned back, gathering her hand into his. And he smiled. A dark smile, filled with insidious intent, like she had observed before –, the smile of someone delighted to be the object of possessiveness and attention. And it was all directed at her.

He brought her hand to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, where Wendy's blood flowed warm and fast. It was reverential kiss, but filled with the evocation of ominous, unsaid things to come. Not letting go of her hand, he raised his blue eyes to her, and Wendy tried her best to appear composed – despite her insides screaming the contrary. Hook allowed a low chuckle escape his lips, and explained –

"You will find a bathroom upstairs, first door on the left. Feel free to join me whenever you're ready."

He let go of her hand, and carried on his way upstairs, leaving a flush and dumbfounded Wendy downstairs. How did he manage to make her feel so undone with one kiss? After all that had happened between them, he still found new ways to keep her on the edge of the knife with a mere gaze, an intonation, or – a languid kiss. She could only laugh at the absurdity of it all.

She also realized, as she turned her head to the front door – that he had given her the opportunity to leave. If he had objected to her departure this morning, he now gave her the space and the dignity to pack her things up and go, no explanation required.

That, more than anything, reassured her in her decision. This day off announced itself to be a long one, and she intended to enjoy every single minute from it.

Wendy turned away from the door and climbed upstairs.

Pushing the ajar bathroom door open, she saw Hook bent over the washbasin wiping the water off his face with a clean white towel. He hadn't heard her enter. But as he stood up, he encountered her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment he seemed earnest, open. Reassured that she had come.

"I was just freshening up," he spoke to her reflection. "But I do believe you're craving a shower as much as I am."

It was Wendy's turn to smile. He put his invitation in words she couldn't refuse if she wanted to. And she didn't wish to. She walked up to him and wrapped his arms against him, her breasts pressed to his back. Wendy glanced over his shoulder and for a moment, all they could was to contemplate each other in the mirror. Each wondering at the ease they both felt, at how normal this intimacy came to them. Finally, Wendy spoke, placing a kiss at his neck.

"You're right, I could use a shower. I'm feeling quite dirty, and a little wetness would definitely help." Hook chuckled at the clumsy innuendos, but didn't have time to reply as she sucked at his skin without warning. As he let out a hiss, she allowed her hands to roam down his body and tug at the towel wrapped around his hips. It fell on the cold tile floor, and she renewed her stinging kisses higher up his neck, while her fingers brushed along his already hardened length. Feeling emboldened by her efforts and the reaction they provoked, she grabbed him fully in her hand while the other sneaked its way up to caress his nipple… She started to move up and down, softly, to test him, but he was already on the edge… Suddenly, Hook wrapped his hand around her wrist, stopping her in her ministrations. Turning around to face her, he stepped around her and soon had her cornered against the cold marble of the sink.

"As much as it costs me to put a hold to these thrilling activities…" He said as he kissed her own neck in turn, and taking his time to suck on it, willing to mark her, bruise her – "I'd like for you to enjoy them just as much as myself." Removing her top, he allowed himself to flick his tongue against the tip of her breast, and smiled as she tried to hide her moan. Soon, she was standing naked in front of him, and taking his hands into his own, lead him into the marble-tiled Italian shower where she was unceremoniously thrust against the cool, smooth walls. It was then that Hook assailed her mouth, using every weapon at his advantage – tongue, teeth, lips, mixing at delirious rhythm, and she was more than happy to retaliate. As it looked like she would win the fight, a sudden pouring of warm water fell onto them.

Wendy let out a startled yelp; they had turned on the valve without realizing it. She laughed on for a few moments, before seeing that he looked at her with a mixture of melancholy and wonder.

"What is it?" She asked gingerly. His sudden sternness was not unusual, but this whole situation – if someone had told her, years ago, she would be standing in a shower with him… – certainly was.

"I am coming to terms with the fact that this is the first time I have seen you laugh." He didn't take his eyes off her, and the intensity they held made her understand he had not expected this to happen. That, maybe, he was not used to be something other than a villain to her eyes. Wendy smiled faintly, confounded. And placed a reassuring kiss on his lips.

Hook gave in to her sweet lips, and kissed the drops of water away from her cheeks, her eyelids, her mouth. He paused to look at her, running his hand through her drenched strands of hair, bewildered still.

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you at this moment. You look like a Naiad, emerged from the water, enticing me with your freedom… I should like to see you at sea one day; it looks like you belong there, among the sea foam and the waves."

Wendy, for once in her life, was entirely at loss for words. All she knew was that, looking at him, so open and earnest, ached her. It was an ache only he could soothe.

"Is this what you were made for?" She finally asked. "To be longed for?"

His reply was held in his kiss.

It was there that they made love, both soaked and overcome with desire, and both a little less afraid to, one day, name what passed between them.

"Shall I give you a tour?"

His house wasn't enormous – just large enough for a bachelor who had enough room left to host his family or acquaintances, should he wish or need to. But, from the look of his house and the walls devoid of photographs, it appeared he did not often welcome people in.

One painting, however, grabbed her attention. It was a simple still life, rather modern given the unusual disposition associated with most examples of the genre. A flower bouquet of forget-me-nots lay discarded on a table on the foreground, while an open window behind it revealed a seaport, and she could make out ships sailing in the distance. Seeing she had been contemplating it for a while, Hook gave a meager comment. "My mother," he said. "Made from the view of her nursing home."

"It's most uncommon. Both traditional and contemporary. But it's beautiful." She did not mention the unfinished look of it all, which seemed off. She was afraid of the explanation.

"You and your mother must be close," she continued.

"We were not." She froze at the coolness with which he spoke. "But she couldn't remember me in the end." Hook's eyes had glazed over, lost in reminiscence. Ignoring Wendy's dismayed face, he continued. "Alzheimer. There was nothing to be done. But still, I had to be there for her, everyday, being her next of kin", he added, bitterness seeping from his words.

"James, I'm sorry…"

Snapping out of his recollection, Hook turned to look at her, puzzlement painted over his features. "What do you have to be sorry for? You had no part in it."

"Perhaps, but…" She bit her lips, as she remembered how atrocious she had been, years ago, probably as his mother was still alive. "To think that when you bore this, when your mother… – And all the while, Peter, my brother and I, were harassing you, burdening you further, and we never knew…"

"You were young then," he stopped her, "and so was I. A foolish young man," he added, more to himself than to her. "You couldn't have grasped the full meaning of it, even if you had known. And either way, it wouldn't have mattered. She was a selfish woman who only left me this –" he gestured towards the painting.

She felt his anger. His pain. Before she knew it, she had placed a hand on his arm, stopping him from following a dark path. "Then if I mustn't blame myself for what happened in the past, neither should you."

"I'm not blaming myself for – " he protested, but she cut him off with a knowing look.

"It's behind you, as painful as it was. You mustn't worry yourself about it anymore."

Startled, Hook looked down at her. Seeing her in a new light.

"Where did all this kindness come from? Have you not always been a thorn in my side, working to undermine me whenever you got the chance?" She could see he wished to change the subject, and didn't mention the painting any further. She chose to play along.

"Oh, believe me, I haven't changed a bit. Actually, I'm here to make your life miserable, one amazing coitus at the time."

"My, my, you wicked thing. By all means, you must carry on with your evil plan – I wouldn't dare interfere."

"A very wise decision indeed. Let me take this as an opportunity to show you how nefarious I can be."

His sinister smile played at the corner of his lips, and he bent down to steal her own mischievous smile from her lips… But she stepped away from him, laughing, and placed her back against his bedroom door. And started removing, for the umpteenth time that day, her top, dropping it away from her. He could not take his eyes away from her, amazed at her vitality, her bravado. She blew him a kiss before waltzing into the room. Waiting next to the door for Hook to follow the bait, she ambushed him as soon as he appeared and threw him on the bed, closing the door behind them.

Clothes were discarded as quickly as they were put on, and Wendy wondered if it was normal to desire someone this much. This often. It felt like every time her skin entered in contact with his, it ignited a spark the same way a match would when scratched against its box. Her whole being was on fire. How she had wanted him, and there he was, entirely hers for a day. No secretiveness, no use in hiding from prying eyes and murmured rumors. She would make it count.

Pushing him on his back, Wendy grabbed his wrists and pinned them up, next to his head, while she started grinding herself against him. The simple fact she had him in his power, that she could do whatever she wanted to him – it all made her lightheaded. Methodically, she kept on balancing her hips along his lower torso, in a sybaritic way, but never quite touching his growing erection. One slow, lush motion, caused her to feel the tinge of the pleasure she knew so well, and allowed an uncontrolled moan to escape from her lips. Hook, so far content to watch her move her body so erotically atop of his, understanding the privilege of seeing her in such a wild state, now couldn't help but move his own hips when he heard that moan. Trying to follow her voluptuous movements.

"Oh no," Wendy teased him, her voice low and heavy. "Not yet." She raised her hips away from him for good measure, while she lowered her head to nibble his lower lip, before moving on and bite his earlobe, eliciting a few muffled cries of protest and pleasure from him. Keeping him firmly pinned down, she descended towards his chest, and paid special attention to his nipples, allowing her tongue to dance along them. So enraptured was she by this task, she lowered herself back down and mindlessly resumed her suggestive strokes against him.

It was almost too much to bear for Hook. The sensuality of it all. She denied him all he needed – and he needed contact, he needed control, he needed release. She knew exactly how to get to him, and she maddened him terribly.

Wendy felt delirious. Grinding herself harder against him, she closed her eyes and suddenly freed one of his wrists to touch herself. Despite his painful desire, Hook was transfixed, watching Wendy pleasure herself so openly over him. Seeing her, eyes closed, her mouth forming that small "o" while she completely lost sense of herself, made him want to accompany her once again, to place his mouth her fingers worked so dexterously. But as his cock twitched, he opted for his initial option and grabbed her hips, leading her to him. Wendy opened her eyes at once, but feeling the tip of his cock against her entrance made her realize how much she had craved for it. She helped him slide into her, but remained in control. Slowly, ever so slowly, inch by inch. The long, low moan of utter relief that left Hook's lips when she was fully onto him caused her stomach to flip over. It was everything.

She took his hands and placed them firmly on her hips, allowing him to guide her. She moved once, up and down, slowly. But soon, guided by his grip, she gained momentum, faster, faster, faster. Eyes closed, each pound harsher than the previous. Soon she had given him control entirely, and he was pumping into her with desperation. The sound of their flesh colliding on repetition, his pants, her moans; they were both lost.

"Yes, James – ", Wendy cried as she could only feel him, him, against her walls, "Use me, use me, use me – "

Her whole body was moved up and crushed down for his pleasure, and she loved it, and she disappeared into the sensation, she was gone, she was nothing, as he pulled her up, slammed her down; up, down, up…

Down.

She heard him cry out, an inhuman groan – she felt him, she felt his release, and that was enough to ignite her as well. She pulsed around him, so hard it was almost painful, biting her clenched fist to stifle her moan, almost a sob.

It was difficult to come down from such a high, so she remained there, atop of him, slightly shaking, out of breath, before collapsing, still not having entirely recovered her senses.

When she opened her eyes, Hook was propped up on one elbow to look at her, lost in unfaltering contemplation. She didn't have the strength to move, not yet, but smiled at him instead.

"What is it?", she asked for the second time that day.

Hook smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Nothing."

She frowned a bit, her own smile lessening. She kept her eyes locked with his for a moment, trying to read them, thoughtful, but gave up and laid back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Fine, you can remain silent. Don't worry, I won't try to coax your thoughts out of you." She looked at him once more, his eyes still unreadable. "Even though I could," she added, half-joking, half-serious.

"I do not doubt it, my dear." And softly, almost tenderly, he pushed a strand of her hair from her face. She felt him put it in place in her hair – then her hair was smoothed by long fingers. This was such a simple gesture, she thought. So why did it make her heart clench so?

Hook tried to get up, but as he saw Wendy was about to protest, he reassured her: "You must be exhausted and famished. Rest here, I will prepare something to eat, even though I do not even know whether it's time for breakfast or lunch..."

"Make it a brunch, then." At ease, Wendy laid back, settling a pillow by her head, and threw the covers over her.

"Very well," he laughed. And Wendy wondered at seeing him laugh, too. He hadn't noticed this was the first time she made him laugh as well.

Theirs was such a strange relationship. From hatred to attraction to lust to… This odd sense of homeliness. She thought she had experience, but this was uncharted territory even for her. She didn't know where to go to from there; this was nothing like she had imagined. But then again, how could she ever imagine it would come to this – waiting for him to bring her breakfast in bed. Maybe she wouldn't have to think about it, because when he came back with scrambled eggs and sandwiches, he remarked that they still hadn't completed the house tour.

And indeed, during the rest of the day, she became very well acquainted with his kitchen counter, his library floor, his office chair.

It was that time of the year were days were getting shorter, and soon – too soon – darkness came back, silently tapping at the windows. Wendy had feared what the daylight would bring, and now she feared the return of the night. It told her it was time to leave.

Under cover of darkness, Hook accompanied her to her car, allowing himself another languid kiss of which he had the secret. But then, Wendy couldn't leave without asking the lingering, overwhelming question that had made this day so bittersweet. A question that disrupted the blissful silence of the evening.

"What happens now?"

There wasn't enough light to see him properly, to see his face. But he stiffened, as though the reality of the morrow had been tossed away from his mind, and the day had been nothing but a dream.

But she needed to know. She needed to know how to act, how to prepare. How to feel about it all.

"We'll try to keep it secret," finally came his reply. "Act like we never were… intimate," he concluded, at loss for a better word. "Weren't you good at it? Playing make-believe? That's all there is to it: make-believe from now on."

"I don't know how long I will be able to keep this up, James. You must know how alluring you are, how desirable you look, when you're doing a lecture," she replied, mischievous.

"Neither do I – ", he said as he suddenly moved closer, as if she would vanish if he didn't hold her now, and he kissed passionately, making it count. His hands roaming over her body hungrily. "We'll have to be discreet with our encounters. Or people might talk. Not that I wouldn't enjoy people knowing that you are mine, and only mine, Wendy –" and she would have gladly let him take her again, right here and right there, dazzled as she was by the intensity of his possession – "but, as you so rightly pointed out, you are indeed more at risk than I."

For a while, she said nothing, keeping him close, breathing him in. She could never have known he'd be so warm against her; he had always seemed so cold, so distant.

She had hated him, and now she hated to leave. It seemed she would never have enough of him. Raising her head, she contemplated him for a while, quite grave. This was not tenderness; Wendy could see that clearly. They would never have know such intensity if tenderness had played a part in it. No, this is was something else. This was so much more.

They were endlessly, hopelessly drawn to each other, like waves crashing onto the shore, and neither of them could explain it. To part was to die a little.

"Will this impossible want ever end?"

She asked this in a whisper, and seemed concerned by this prospect. Looking full and straight at him, she understood, by the look on his face, that he did not know the answer either.

Wendy sighed.

She had to go. There was no point in delaying it any longer.

"I am leaving now, James, before it becomes impossible for me to do so. When you see me again, do your best to ignore me, or at least – when people are around. I know I didn't do such a great job at concealing my emotions as of late, but I'll find the resolve to do so." She let out a frustrated sigh before pushing away from him. "Goodbye, now – "

She had been opening the door of the car when he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around; before she knew it, his lips had crashed down upon hers.

He claimed her, hungrily, his mouth returning to hers, again and again – his hunger left her breathless.

"Something to remember me by. 'Till we meet again," he murmured against her lips.

When he let go, he was the first one to turn and leave. Not another word could be said.

It took Wendy a while to get in her car.

Driving away had never been so difficult.

Well, here's another chapter! A filler, mostly. I hope it doesn't disappoint you anyway. Next chapter is a bit more interesting - to me, at least - there's more banter between the two, and I always find a good banter pretty refreshing. But I won't say any more, and let you discover it yourselves! Until next time,

- VelvetGoldie